Yay! Back to school today after a long break for eid. And miss 6 started her first day at school after a long year of homeschooling. With two at school and two still homeschooling i am still feeling the pressure. I felt it was going to be a long day. Nerves kicked in when i kissed my school kids goodbye and sent them off. Miss 6 so excited. Her brand new Dora schoolbag carried high on her back and holding tightly to her brother mister 10s hand i could tell she was nervouse. I made sure to give them the stranger danger talk last night. And warned them to behave in class. Her brother started a few months ago so he agreed to look after her and show her around. That was a comfort to me. Today was the day i had to convince myself that it will all end well. Many days here dont end well. I did my research. I enrolled them in the safest schools in our area. Protected by many. A safe haven for our children. My heart should have felt ease today but it didnt. I set up the schooling for miss 12 and 8 as i normally would and went into the kitchen to start cooking. I turned on the radio as the power was out so no t.v. I always keep the local news program playing in the house to keep us informed of what is going on. Bombings of houses parks and schools were becoming too common. It was something we know too well. But not this school. This school was special. It is a UN school. No one would dare attack or bomb it. Right? I convince myself that day that it would be ok. But it wasnt. I sat and listened to the radio. I dropped to my knees at the news that the UN school had been accidently hit by a stray missile. I sat still with my head in my hands trying not to scream so as not to allert the other kids. I mean they cant all be dead right? there must be survivers. MY children must have survived. I give myself hope. I tell my kids to stay home and wait for me. They see my tears and begg me to tell then what is wrong. I just tell them to stay put and lock the door. I run out and head towards the street of the school. It is surrounded by ambulance and news crews and aid workers runing back and forth. Many children screaming in fear. Running around looking for someone to hold them and comfort them and tell them they are ok. I cant see my kids anywhere. I gather up the few kids that i find running from the smoke. No injuries on them. Just faces full of dust and debree mixed with tears. I held them tight. I held them all three of them. Kids i had never seen before but they gained comfort in holding onto me. A mother. Not their mother but a mother. I look over to see the aid workers gathering up the survivers in a building nearby. I gather the kids around me and i take then over to join the others. Mothers and fathers are running through the crowds each hoping to find their children amongst the survivers. A difficult task as the children were all covered in dust and some even blood it was difficult to recognise them from a distance. All of them screaming and crying in fear. All of them just wanting to be be held in the arms of their mothers and fathers. I stood on a chair and scanned the kids but didnt find my babies. At that point my heart froze. A thought came to me but i ignored it. I brushed it off. I refused to listen to it. My head was telling me to go back outside and search through the pile of bodies. That had grown since i had last walked past it. I didnt take a second look at it before as i couldnt bare it. No! I refused to look at it. My children survived. I kow they did. But why cant i find them. Why are they not in my arms right now? i scanned the crowed again and fell to the ground sobbing. I couldnt find them. I sat and watched as the many mothers and fathers were reunited with theit terrified children. Watched their faces go from terrified to slight comfort as they ran and hid beneath ther mum and dads arms. Safe. I tried again to spot my children calling to them hoping they would hear me through the loud thunder caused by the emergency sirens ,the screaming kids and the desperate parents. I waited. More childre were walked in by rescuers. But not my kids. I gave up hope. I went out to search.amongst the dead bodies. Students and teachers. Almost 30 bodies lay in a row waiting for their mummies and daddies to hug them and protect them. As i walked past where they lay i watched the mothers sitting over and some laying on their childrens bodies crying and screaming at the reality that their child will no longer be able to hug them or kiss them or tell them they are hungry or tell them they love them. I could almost see the hearts these mothers being ripped into shreds like the explosion had hit their chest and not the school. I froze at the sight of my neighbour sitting over her son sceaming wake up my son wake up I watched as she gripped her sons arms tightly shaking him as if trying to wake him from a deep sleep. And then she began to scream eaven louder when she realised her child was not going to wake up. He would never wake up. I ran to her and tried to confort her. I told her He is shaheed inshaAllah and will wait for her in junnah. it seemed to do little to sooth her heart as she got up and ran to find her daughter. I forced myself to look at each dead childs face hoping and praying none of them were mine. A slight relief hit when i didnt find my children amongst the dead but more were being pulled out of the rubble so it was shortlived. I searched and searched and searched as did hundereds of other parents. The injured were being treated in a few tents set up by volunteers i ran through them and saw children with such horrific injuries i could not bare to look at them to see if any one of them were my babies. My heart couldnt take anymore. It was getting dark now. My heart was heavy. I knew that my girls at home would be terrified alone with no power if it gets dark so i made the difficult decision to run home and let them know i am ok. Our house was only a few blocks away and they would probably be hearing all the noise anyway so they needed me too. With a heavy heart i left the scene. I left the devistated mothers. The broken fathers.The horrified children. I felt the need to go home. I ran home. Faster than i have ever run in my life. As i got to the door i stopped. I didnt knock. I sat on the step and thought to myslef what will i tell my girls about their sister and brother. I wasnt sure what to say. I wasnt sure where they were. What was i to say? it was dark now. I could not see a thing. I knocked on the door and i heard tremmbling voices ask who is it. I said it is ummi. I was in such a daze that i didnt realise the voice on the other side of the door was my sons. He opened the door and dropped into my arms. He was alive they were both alive. They were safe. He said when the bomb hit the school it was playtime. He was showing his sister off to his friends when it hit. He held onto her hand and didnt let go. He ran her all the way home. And they have been waiting for me to arrive. I gathered them all up in my arms. I just held them in the dark. My son spoke of his fear and the things that he saw. I was one of the lucky mums today. i have my kids safe in my arms today. But i couldnt get the imige of my neighbour out of my head, shaking her dead son to wake him.The image of the volunteer carrying what remained of the body of a child not older than 6 when it all got too much for him and he collapsed to the ground and beat his head in the ground hoping to wake up out of the nightmare. The images of the scores of kids with injuries most people can only imagine in their sickest of minds. I cuddled my kids. I held them. their bodies shaking and all of them crying. It should have been a happy moment but it wasnt, it just meant that we get to live another day of fear in this place of oppression. When will the world wake up and help us? #mumsofGaza
Posted on: Thu, 31 Jul 2014 00:57:07 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015