Diaries of Hope and Hate

(5 of 6)

The sun rises to begin a new day. Its golden beams mix with the breeze, which makes the tree's branches move. The sound of wind blowing against the tree's leaves is beautiful. I have a feeling of serenity. I woke up at 6 a.m. to welcome a new day, a quiet day, a happy day, unlike the other days. But, in my opinion, it will not be a happy day. We will get the same sad news. I picked up my bag and went to school. I don't have a strong desire to study. I expect to die at any moment by a stray bullet from an Israeli soldier. I looked at my house. I gazed at all the spots I used to sit on or play, as it is my last time to see them. It is a terrible feeling.

A schoolmate called me. We discussed our cause on our way to school. Everything was the same at the school: the same teachers, the same students, the textbooks, the chalkboards. We started our day by reciting poems for Palestine. The bell rang for the first class, a science lesson. The teacher entered. She began talking. I was not listening. I thought about our martyrs and wounded. I thought of the 13-year-old child who fell a martyr. How sad is his mother? I am proud of him. He was from my region. He was killed on his way back home. What is the use of what he had learned? He was killed. Did he know that he should not prepare his homework because a bullet would kill him? It is an evil bullet fired by a wicked soldier. I gazed at our teacher. I am one of her best students. But now I do not care about the lesson. Study is no longer important in our life.

After we finished our study, we went to visit the family of a martyr, to provide support. As we marched we chanted, "Rest, martyr, in your grave; we will continue the struggle. We sacrifice our soul and blood for the martyr and for Palestine." That martyr was shot by a high-velocity bullet. It penetrated his chest. Another bullet penetrated his arm. He was 18. His mother was sitting on the ground. She was crying. Her wrinkled face was furious. I kissed her face and hands.

Atara Triestman
I try not to imagine the worst, although sometimes it seems I am surrounded by people who can't help being afraid. My husband Yoni is afraid. He sees Arab politicians and Muslim clergy inciting Muslims everywhere against Jews, saying that Jews deserve violence and accepting that killing Jews is a heroic mission. Today he says he sees the jihad spreading and that he cannot look into the eyes of an Arab without wondering if he could act like the mob in Ramallah that lynched the soldiers.

Friday
QAIS ADWAN IS THE CHAIRMAN OF THE STUDENT UNION AT AN-NAJAH UNIVERSITY IN NABLUS. HE IS A MEMBER OF HAMAS, A MILITANT ISLAMIC PALESTINIAN ORGANIZATION.

Before sunrise, the youths in the dormitory have readied themselves for the dawn prayer. Some go back to bed, others begin to study until 7 a.m. I went to the campus to do the usual things that I do every day. I am mandated by God to help the students. But on this typical day, I am thinking of a day two weeks ago, still. It was a special day in my life, a unique one. I was under a special premonition of fear and portent. We had decided to organize a march to protest the entrance of the criminal [Ariel] Sharon to al-Aqsa Mosque. After dawn, I started reading the Koran. The sun's rays were weaving a special dress of martyrdom. The sun's told us, "You have a date with martyrdom." The Muslim believes in fate. God decides death and life. I read the verses that deal with martyrdom. My heart was brimful with a special feeling. It is very great to fall a martyr. The martyr has a high ranking in heaven.