I don’t care anymore.
I don’t care about the policies, about the right and wrong, about the history. I don’t care about the land. Really, believe me, I don’t care about the land. I don’t care about the Green Line or the rockets. I don’t care whether you call it “Gaza and the West Bank” or Judea and Samaria. Call it the Land of the Flying Spaghetti monster for all I care.
See, I have a little boy. He’s 3, and he’s brilliant. He’s so full of life and mischief and he lightens up the room when he walks in.
I have a little boy. But several families don’t – not anymore.
And one of these children? She was a one year old. Her name was Sara. She had beautiful chubby cheeks, gorgeous curly brown hair, and a smile that could melt ice.
She died sheltering in a UN school. Her mum, Meena, had taken there, hoping she would be safe. They died together, wrapped in each others arms.
And I don’t think you care.
Because you’re so busy scoring points in this war that the terrible life toll is deemed acceptable.
Little Sara didn’t die a matyr to the cause of Gaza. She died because those governing her made stupid decisions. And she didn’t die at “necessary collateral” either – an inevitable casualty in a strategic operation. She died a little girl, who should have been safe, but wasn’t.
I don’t know what the answer is. I’m raw and I’m hurting, because Meena and Sara were dear to me, and now they’re gone, and it seems so senseless. An entire family ripped apart. For no real reason. The world has stopped, but the rockets and the war carries on.
All I know is this. Please, please take a look out the window. Look at the people you’re affecting. The traumatised Israeli school kids living in constant fear of the bomb siren going off. The terrified Gazan’s not sure where they’re going to find the next meal, let alone whether they’ll survive the night – or even, in the terrible situation they face, whether they want to.
Look into their eyes. Because they aren’t the other. They’re part of you. And they’re bleeding and hurting and dying and you can stop it.
For Meena. And most especially, for the little girl who will never see her second birthday. Stop it for Sara. Please.