By Ina'am Obeidi

Alumni Spotlight Ina'am Obeidi

Sound Bites Are Terrible

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Yesterday at 12 midnight, my bell rang continuously. I am not sure how many seconds or minutes it took me to realize that it was not a nightmare that I was having, nor was it a silly visitor coming to me during my well-earned rest. That was because the rings started being accompanied with hard knocks on the door.
Before heading to the door of my apartment, I looked at my mother who was sleeping like a baby in the other room. She had just arrived back from Jordan after spending two months there. You can imagine what she went through: the regulations for crossing the bridge, the waiting, the investigations. Then she jogged her way through several Israeli checkpoints with her suitcase.
I looked through the secret eye in the apartment door. I saw my neighbor, who is around 50 years old and his son, 18 years old, standing and facing the wall. Four soldiers were standing in front of my door directly but there were some other soldiers who were busy with I know not what. At that moment, the knocks on the door became so strong that I thought they were about to break in.
The second I opened the door I was unable to see anything. I saw only more than five or six guns pointed at me. These guns had small spotlights on them. For me, it was like a scene in a movie. Now I do not know why I was not able to see those who were holding these guns. However, their greenish uniforms and their helmets were clear in my mind. A short young ugly one who was the closer to the door when I opened it, shouted at me in his horrible Arabic "In one minute go inside and call everyone, everyone, children, women, and oldies to come out, quickly." My eyes contacted with the eyes of my neighbor. I felt so worried about him and his son when they were bowing on the floor. I said to the ugly one, "But why you are doing it this way?" He shouted at me again, "Yalla. Go bring every one out or I'll shoot," pointing the gun at my head.
I went inside told my mother, not to worry, but she should go out. I changed the pants of my pajamas, and put my jeans on instead, while I could still hear him shouting Yalla. When I went out, I found that they had allowed the son of my neighbor to bring a chair from their apartment, which faces mine. I went out. There were the man and his son in the same position on the floor, and my old mother, 84 years old, shivering on the chair. One soldier came up from the bottom floor and another two came from the upper one. One was copying the details of the ID's of my neighbors on papers he was holding. The ugly one asked me, "So there is no one inside?" I replied, "No, no one." He said, "Not women, children, oldies." I looked him in the eye and shouted, "I already said NO, and I said it once again. Can't you get it?" My neighbor whispered to me please, "Calm down." At that moment
I felt it was a duty to be calm. The same ugly one addressed himself to me and asked me about the third apartment in the same floor. Firmly I replied, "I do not know." The son said that there was no one living there.
They talked in Hebrew, and like in a circus formed a certain shape and broke into my neighbor's apartment. The scene made me smile. They looked so ridiculous. They came out. Again, they made that funny shape pointing the guns in different directions, and went into my apartment in twos. The last two soldiers who went in were walking backwards. Their movements were jumpy. Again, I was furious, but at the same time I thought that they were so ugly, stupid, and pathetic. When they came out from my apartment, they told my mother and me that we could go in. The first ugly spokesman was again very close to my door. He looked me in the eye, and I did the same. This time he said in English; "How did you like it?" I looked at my neighbor who was still on the floor. I said nothing, but I went into my apartment and slammed the door with all my strength.
The rest of the story is predictable; they did the same in every floor in the faculty building where I live. They moved to other buildings and did the same.
Friends, if you think what happened in my neighbor hood is horrible, you are completely ignorant of what many Palestinians experience every day. The problem is that my people are not good at telling the story of their feelings and pain, especially when a TV reporter wants a ten second reaction. My story sound bite would be, "Yes, they came at midnight and left." Would that tell my story??
P.s.: The events described above took place on Oct. 13th 2003.

Sleep tight.

By Ina'am Obeidi