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From rense.com... From An American Mother In Bethlehem Dear friends, Alison, her husband and three small girls sometimes attend our church. They would come more often, but, her Palestinian husband George is rarely permitted by the IDF through the Bethlehem/Jerusalem check-point. Below is her account of yesterday as reported from 2 different news channels. I guarantee, you will never see this reported in the US mainstream media. Your witness in Jerusalem, Paul From Alison Nassar 15 March 15, 2002 Day Seven I watched the Hebrew news in English last night and I heard all their pretty justifications for what they are doing. They're "withholding the full extent of their military power". They're "acting with restraint out of concern for minimizing civilian casualties". They're "disabling weapons factories". They're "dismantling the terrorist infrastructure". Their purpose is "to establish a cease-fire and return to negotiations". Their "highest priority is peace". All this must sound so pacifying to the ears of the West. So proper. So civilized. So sterile. So believable from a distance. And then we switched the channel and came back to reality, up close and oh, so personal. As the local cameramen made their way from house to house, street to street, and camp to camp, we watched in horrified numbness. No words could possibly describe what the camera was showing us. The young woman with the baby on her hip just shook her head, speechless, gesturing to the rubble of the home behind her with tears slipping down her cheeks. The old man gazed uncomprehendingly at what remained of his home, his face seeming to collapse in on itself. The old woman, standing amid splinters of furniture, tore at her headscarf shouting, "What can I say? What should I say?? What is there to say???" What can and must be said is that heavily armed Israeli soldiers, accompanied by tanks, bulldozers, and helicopters, entered the miserable homes of some of the most impoverished and wretched souls on the face of this earth and vandalized everything in sight. They broke furniture, slashed clothing and bedding, shattered dishes and tvs, stole what money and valuables they could find, and then knocked down the walls themselves, leaving nothing. Leaving people who were already refugees homeless once again. They entered shops and vandalized the merchandise. They entered sewing workshops and vandalized the sewing machines. They entered computer clubs and vandalized the computers. They entered printing shops and vandalized the typesetting equipment. They entered a small appliance repair shop and what was left was not even recognizable. Words are truly inadequate to describe the destruction. It must be seen to be believed, and it must be believed because it is the ugly reality behind the pretty words. Next we saw the hundreds of "captured terrorists", blindfolded, bound at the wrists, and squatting in the sun, being processed for arrest. Some wore only pajamas and slippers. Some were just a few years older than Mathilda. Some were the age of George. Some we even knew. I looked at their faces, my heart thudding, wondering how I would feel to see my husband among them. And for the 1000th time in 10 years, feeling thankful not to have sons. The cameraman wandered among the "shabab" (young men), asking them to describe their capture. "We were hiding in our bedroom, trying to keep the children calm. There was no shooting, no resistance. Just the sound of the tanks and bulldozers. People screaming and crying nearby. Suddenly the walls began to shake like an earthquake and our door fell in. Twenty or thirty soldiers came running in. Some surrounded us and some went to work smashing up the house with sledgehammers. They pointed to me and my brother and told us to put our hands up. I asked why. They told us we were "wanted". I said we hadn't done anything, we were only hiding from the tanks. They pointed their guns at our heads and said we had to go with them. When we left they were still tearing up the house. My mother and sisters and baby brother were hysterical. When we got here, we saw all of our neighbors, lined up and waiting to be arrested. None of us knows what will happen." Those factories that were vandalized were not manufacturing rockets. Those men that were arrested are not gun-toting activists. Those families whose houses were destroyed were not terrorists. At least not yet. When my eyes and ears had had enough, I turned away and went to attend to my children's calls. Nadine looked into my face and said, mom, are you crying? Yes, Nadine. Somebody has to. Forget foreign policy and national borders. These are our brothers and sisters. Peace.

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