from Franklin P. Lamb

"How I envy those of you who were there when my loved ones died. Did they
die thirsty? Or were you merciful enough to give them a drink?"

Dearest Franklin,

Thank you very much for forwarding this to me. It is very difficult but I recall every single event the night of 17 Sept 1982 when Mounir was brought into the Gaza Hospital emergency room by his friends. All he could say was Israelis, Haddads, Kataebs and then passed out. He was the last patent I operated on before we were ordered out of our basement operating theater by militiamen. He was shot 3 times and bled alot- his hemoglobin dropped to 4 gms
(normal 12-13 gms).

Mounir like others, lived months in the same house in Shatilla where his family was murdered, reliving the nightmares until finally they managed to get his brother and him to the USA to start a new life. I met up with Mounir many times, and even now, he would ask me to look at his scars.

Out of respect, I changed his name in my book, but last year he told me he felt stronger and I can tell his story - that of a little 11 year old. I also printed pictures of his grandmother and grandfather in my book, and the lamentation of his grandmother.

Perhaps it is about time the lamentation of his late grandmother who walked 20 kilometers from South Lebanon to Shatilla is heard in Lebanon and world-wide.. She arrived in Shatilla that September day to find 27 members of her family killed - there is only Mounir and Nabil left.

She said:

" Our doves are still here. Our carnations give fragrance.The sparrows sing their usual songs. Yet Abu Zuhair is nowhere to be found.

Beirut you took all I had. You took my last spark in life and my heart dies dead on your streets.

Abu Zuhair, the tall young tree was cruelly snapped off his roots on your soil

May the blood of whoever murdered you mingle with yours. May his mother suffer the same agony.

Who dug your grave, Abu Zuhair? Who brought this disaster onto us? What can I say in your memory?

My heart is full of reproach towards this unfeeling world. Not even a hundred ships, or two hundred stallions, would be enough to carry the load of pain in my heart

What can I say? "Mother" you tell me, "go visit our graves and pray for those they engulf"

I go to the graves and tenderly embrace its stones. I tell it " Please let your stones warmly embrace the bodies of my loved ones within, take care of them, I have entrusted them to you.

I mourn your youth and mourn for all the young girls who never knew a moment of happiness or contentment.. They went to meet life so hopeful and eager, only to be trampled and torn by its ferocity.

Oh God I cannot go on. He was the handsomest of men and the strongest of youths. He used to pave the way for others, to facilitate their path.

Your young body mingled with the sand too soon, your eyes filled with the sand.

What else can I give to my country? My heart is full of agony and reproach to life.

How I envy those of you who were there when my loved ones died. Did they die thirsty? Or were you merciful enough to give them a drink?

I implore every passing bird to carry my anxiety and love to you, then to come back with news of my loved ones.

My child, your body is strewn with bullets. Who sent you to me, crow of ill omen? Why do you inflict disasters on me all at once? Spare them a bit Oh God.. God - wait at least a year, then thy will be done.

I implore you, bearers of coffins, move slowly. Do not hurry. Let me see my loved ones once more.

I go to the graves, and roam listlessly around. I call Abu Zuhair, then I call Um Walid (his sister). My call remains unanswered. They are not there. They followed Um Zuhair (Abu Zuhair's wife) and the young ones. They all left one night by the moonlight - all my loved ones.

My child you are near me no more. Mountains of distance are between us.....

Nabil ( Abu Zuhair's nephew) calls his mother. " Mother", he says, "to whom have you left me?"

Zahra answers" I have left you to your uncles. They should tell you of me and take you to my grave so my eyes can look at you and my heart reach out to you" But Abu Zuhair is gone and he cannot carry out Zahra's will.

Zuhair ( Abu Zuhair's son) asks his father " To whom have you entrusted me?"

"your grandfather will come for you. You are the continuation of his life"

But life, what life is left to us? Our hearts have died. Our tears have dried for all the young men and women who died.

Where can I turn to? Where are my children?

My child, may God show you the holy path, and may my love and care be a lantern to accompany you along the way.

Almighty God, give me patience. Young men, please stay away: you renew my wounds, and I am so weary. What can I say"

The Lamentation of Hadja Hassan Mohammed, October 1982. (Pagse 84.85,86 of From Beirut to Jerusalem.)

Please circulate this - from a Palestinian grandmother to her family, murdered in the Sabra and Shatilla massacre- I have kept her words and read them to all who care to hear for 28 years.

Swee

--
Palestine Civil Rights Campaign-Lebanon

PLEASE SIGN HERE!

http://www.petitiononline.com/ssfpcrc/petition.html

“Failure is not an option for the Palestine Civil Rights Campaign, our only choice is success”

15 year old Hiba Hajj, PCRC volunteer, Ein el Helwe Palestinian Camp, Saida, Lebanon

Please check our website for UPDATES:
www.palestinecivilrightscampaign.org

Franklin P. Lamb, LLM,PhD
Director, Americans Concerned for
Middle East Peace, Wash.DC-Beirut

Board Member, The Sabra Shatila Foundation and the Palestine Civil Rights Campaign, Beirut-Washington DC
Shatila Palestinian Refugee Camp
fplamb@palestinecivilrightscampaign.org