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Time for action
Daybreak. As the sun rises and light begins to fall, the horror of what
has occurred begins to rear its ugly face. Where once stood buildings, there is
rubble. Where once the laughter of children playing bellowed filled the town,
there is silence. Where once brothers used to mingle is the litter of rotting
corpses. The streets are empty, save for the dead and their murderers.
These past weeks have seen some of the most horrific crimes committedagainst any
people, yet the whole world stood by and watched, with some utterances of
condemnation, but really nothing else. The worldstood by and watched whilst
Palestinian homes were bulldozed down,where men irrespective of age or ability
were branded terrorists andeither summarily executed, taken away never to be
seen again, or used as human shields, whilst children who would `dare' to break
the curfew in order to buy some bread to eat were shot, where sewage had to be
drunk because no clean water was available, where hospitals and ambulances were
used as target practice, where pregnant mothers were forced to give birth at
checkpoints, where the dead were prohibited from being buried. These acts of
savagery have shown the that for the Jews it is not enough to exterminate the
Palestinians, they must humiliate their dead as well.
For many of us, these atrocities committed in Palestine is nothing but a soap-
opera in which we turn on and tune in every day for the latest installment, to
get our daily fix in order to appease ourselves that `at least we care'. But
then there are some who go further and actually do something, be it a march,
petition, or boycotting goods:
however in all honesty these are merely transient remedies for a much deeper
wound. And then there are those who decide to take the brave step, who realize
that the most precious possession they have to give, more than their time, money
and status is their blood. They are the
few of the few.
There are harrowing echoes of Bosnia, accounts of an elderly woman in a
wheelchair stranded in a open field whilst IDF soldiers just watched and laughed
at her helplessness and revelled in their power, and then of the mothers who
risk their lives by breaking the curfew because they have no milk to feed their
babies, or accounts of the elderly being forced to walk to in front of the
Jewish tanks..….these stories
are not fables of a bygone age of oppression, something from the stone age where
men were savages, no, these are eye witnessed accounts of the brutality which
our brothers and sisters of Palestine have suffered by the Jews. This, is the
New World Order. However, these are the stories that the Ummah will never
forget, these are the stories which will inspire a new generation of Mujahideen,
these are the
stories which will be fuel for the fire which, by the help of Allah, will soon
engulf the Jews.
A Billion strong? Rather they call us the nation of a Billion cowards.
When once they would only dare to whisper it amongst themselves, nowthey
proclaim it openly, boasting that the Muslims will do nothing to help each
other. Indeed the weight of evidence is on their side, for during the early days
of the Afghanistan war there was much outrage in the Muslim Ummah, yet they
continued undeterred, they even dared to
kill our brothers and sisters in the month of Ramadan whilst we stood by and did
nothing. Ask yourself why they are so confident?
Look outside your window, quiet isn't it? Now imagine that there are Apache
Helicopters and American F-16 fighter jets circling menacingly
above you, now begins the onslaught; one after another, relentlessly rockets are
fired into your town, into your house, at your family.
This is precisely what has happened in Palestine. They say this is a war on
`Terrorism', and civilians are being spared, funny, I didn't know a rocket could
differentiate between a father and his son, funny
I didn't know a rocket could differentiate between a mother and her daughter.
Quite obviously my lack of education has brought about this ignorance, how
uncivilized of me.
When you sleep tonight, look around your house, nice isn't it? Then think of the
old mother who was at one moment sitting in her home much the same as you and I,
in her sanctuary, and then in the blink of an eye found herself under a pile of
rubble. This elderly mother had been buried alive by Israeli bulldozers as they
tore through the streets.
Imagine the depth of darkness she must have felt whilst being trapped beneath
all that rubble, shouting but to no reply, crying but to no consolation she lay
there starving, not knowing which would kill her first, starvation or
suffocation. Then almost as angels the sons and
daughters of Palestine rescue her. Imagine her unrestrained joy. Then she is
taken to the hospital only to be told that eight other members of her family had
been killed.
The victims of the IDF genocide are many and varied. Take Sami Abda who lived in
Bethelehem, but is now a prisoner of the IDF. He was sitting in his home when
the IDF started firing into his home even though they had been forewarned that
women and children were in it, but did they care? Then, almost inevitably Sami's
mother and brother were shot and before him, before his own eyes. What does that
do to a man? What would that do to you? Sami said:
" They hit my mother, Sumaya, and my brother Jacoub. My mother was 64, my
brother was 37. They both fell to the floor. I called everyone I could to take
them to the hospital. But there was no one to help us.
They were dying. When an ambulance came, an Israeli officer refused permission
for it to enter our street. So for 30 hours, we have lived with their bodies. We
put the children into the bathroom so they could not see the corpses. Help us,
please.''
"My mother ran for help. A soldier shot her in the head"
His is not an isolated case. In Jenin, the town of the slaughtered, Abdullah
Washai watched his 17 year old brother bleed to death in his arms after being
shot by circling helicopters made and paid for by the USA. His mother not being
able to simply watch her son whom she had carried in her womb, the son whom she
had fed when he couldn't feed himself, the son whom she had cleaned when he
couldn't clean himself,
she could not just stand by and watch him die. A brave warrior she ran out into
the street, with no care for her personal safety screaming for help, but none
came. Only a bullet from Jewish terrorists into her head.
So please tell the little girl in Jenin who is forced to drink sewage because no
clean water is available, who is sobbing because her mother has been taken away
whilst her father was mudered, tell her not to worry because a petition is
coming, tell her not to worry because you went on a rally with thousands of
others around the world but then returned to your every day life, tell her not
to worry because you
have written to your local Member of Parliament and he is really sorry so many
people are dying. Tell her not to worry because when you finish your studies you
are going to be successful and more recognized in the community and then when
you talk people will listen. But then she says I need you now. And whilst you
wait, dithering, deliberating,
about how much more useful to Islam you will be as a Doctor, or as a Banker, or
as Lawyer, whilst you sit there and convince yourself of these lies, yet another
Israeli tank rolls into another street, yet another Israeli bulldozer ruthlessly
crushes another house burying the family alive, yet another Israeli soldier
slaughters our innocent brothers and sisters, and whilst we wait yet another
Ayesha cries out
for her brother to come and help her now. But then she stops crying,because she
realizes, that her brothers in the Ummah have love for this Dunya and a hatred
for the death. And then you pause momentarily as you reflect, and you feel sad
for a while, but then you just turn the TV on shrugging your shoulders muttering
to yourself `What can I do about it?'
Sleep well tonight, as the tears of Jenin echoes through your heart.
May Allah forgive us for allowing our brothers and sisters to have been
slaughtered, may Allah forgive us for standing idly by whilst our fathers have
been slaughtered, may Allah forgive us for allowing our mothers to have been
slaughtered, and may Allah forgive us for allowing our children to have been
slaughtered.
No more tears. Let these four walls bear witness to the last burning tear drop
trickle down my face, no more tears, the time for action isupon us. `There is
only one death, so why not make it for the sake of Allah?'
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