Date: Fri, 12 Apr 2002 05:51:52 +0100 (BST)
From: =?iso-8859-1?q?eldorra=20mitchell?= <manynotone-AT-yahoo.co.in>
Subject: yaya Viva 


 Boyo, anyone who agrees with me disagrees with me.
Down with Arab tyrants and long live the Cananite
people and the Philistine people of FIlastine.
Polytheism is antityrannnical. Show me an arab regime
that is remotely democratic or near in measure to a
Nelson Mandela and I will bow out and admit I am
wrong.
In any event please read this article. You might learn
also about the Israeli democratic tyranny -- another
western style invention.
Yours. Iam for and not. 
P.S. Boyo When I say arabs I mean their leaders none
of whom you see lifting a finger to aid their
so-called brothers, the Palestinians; that is because
really the Palestinians are atheist and secular and a
thousand times more educated than the rest of them.
Viva Palestine. P.P.S. One thing that I love about
these Palestinians is their sense of humour, it shames
the rest of the so-called 'arab nation.'
Ramallah Diary: No words are said, just smiles because
we are alive
By Hakam Kanafari 12 April 2002
ARIL *I WENT out of my house today, for the first time
in four days. The Israelis allowed us to buy food but
we can only be on the streets for two hours. The city
is destroyed. Cars on the side of the road crushed
flat like pizza. Tanks rolled over them. Trees lay
broken and dead, shops destroyed, streets dug out,
buildings burning and yet the snipers are still on the
rooftops looking for prey. I wave a victory sign to
all Palestinians walking down the streets of Ramallah.
They smile back with a victory sign. Somebody asks me
to honk my horn to prove we are alive. Beeb Beeb Beeb.
All the car drivers are now honking the horns. The
Israeli soldiers are watching and wondering what is
going on here? They thought they killed us all, but
we're still alive. Two doctors are walking, dressed
for an operation. I offer a lift, and they step in my
car. They both smile. No words are said, just an
exchange of smiles. We're alive.4 APRIL*Still under
siege. We remain in high spirits. We were not allowed
out of the houses again today. The Israeli army
declared Ramallah a war zone. Funny, I thought this
was a vacation of some sort. I am glad the Israelis
clarified the situation. All these dead bodies, all
this destruction needed an explanation. Limited water
supply. No bread, electricity is on and off, and the
Israeli army is moving from one house to the next
looking for terrorists. God, with three million
Palestinian-terrorists still alive, the job is
difficult to conclude. Two of my terrorist neighbours
(one is three years old) are gingerly looking outside
through their window. The mother (she is a pregnant
terrorist) is asking them to move away from the
window.5 APRIL*We were out today for the second time
in nine days. Two hours allowed to get food, drink and
other necessary under siege goods. I drive my car to
the nearest supermarket. Nothing. Only honey and
cornflakes (no milk). I drive to the city centre
searching for more food. The glass from the stores and
shops is scattered everywhere. Trees are destroyed
(technically killed). The buildings are black from the
smoke, all burnt from the fire. The walls are more
holes than walls. The Israeli army is on every street
corner, next to their tanks and armoured vehicles.
They seem surprised. You see, people are not crying
and pleading. Palestinians are congratulating each
other for just staying alive. Everyone is smiling and
everyone is avidly telling their story to anyone they
see on the streets. Ramallah city centre is filled
with people now. "Hamdallah al-Salama, Hakam, park
your car and come down for a drink of arak with me."
It's my friend George with a group of men talking amid
the rubble. "Hi George, we're alive," I shout through
the passenger window. I drive for a few metres to the
car park. My God, there are at least 30 cars that are
as flat as a loaf of Palestinian bread.
Every shop has a crowd of people in front of it
seeking food and water. The rule here is: mothers with
babies buy first. That really doesn't help organise
anything, since every Palestinian woman has a few
babies.
I need a camera. This is too much. The main square in
Ramallah, the Manara Square, is an army barrack. At
least 30 tanks and hundreds of soldiers are stationed
in the square, in my town. My town. I look at my
favourite falafel store on the road parallel to Manara
Square. It's completely destroyed. All traffic signs,
lamp-posts, statues, plants, billboards are, like my
favourite falafel store, completely destroyed.
8 APRIL Hey Sharon, I saw you on TV giving your
victory speech in the Knesset. I had to turn up the
volume, the noise coming from your tanks was so loud.
As you continue your Oscar-calibre performance, I can
see from my window two tanks and an armoured personnel
carrier bombing a house on a hill. The house is only
half a kilometre away from my window. This is
Betounia, Sharon. A town destroyed by your peace
efforts. As I listen to you describing how you will
un-occupy Palestine, your tanks conclude their
shelling of the house. Eight soldiers run out of the
armoured vehicle towards the house. They start to fire
their machine guns. No fire is returned from the
house. It takes them about 15 minutes to wrap up their
firing frenzy. The soldiers wave to the armoured
vehicle. Three new soldiers are convinced the job
remains incomplete. So, they start firing. Again. Now,
all the soldiers are in a competition.Finally, it's
quiet again. But, your soldiers are still implementing
your peace plan. They storm the house. They are inside
now. I hear the familiar squeak of an ambulance. It
cruises down the hill on the road leading to the
house. An Israeli Jeep blocks the ambulance's path. As
I look again, I see the soldiers have raised an
Israeli flag on the house. I am dazed at the sight of
the Israeli flag in my back yard.
        The writer is general manager of the
Palestinian mobile phone telephone network Jawwal.


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