“They’re so young!” exclaimed Christian, a German man working as an accompanier in the Territories, as we stopped at our third checkpoint of the trip, one manned by what looked like a junior varsity basketball team.
A few weeks back, when my sister Karin was visiting, we spent an afternoon in Bethlehem’s Ayda Refugee Camp, where a friend was staying with her charming host family. We drank tea in the living room, taking pictures of and feeding snacks to Rueida, their rambunctious and oh-so-cute three-year-old.
The living room’s wall of windows looked out on what used to be a stunning view of Rachel’s Tomb. Now it faces the snaking cement of the Separation Wall and a watchtower with slit windows.
It was from the small windows of this watchtower that the family’s nephew was shot a few months back. Twelve-years-old and playing on the balcony with a toy gun, this boy was apparently perceived as a security threat by a soldier sitting 100 yards away in this tower. This soldier had a few things to think about before firing the shot: are handguns readily accessible to Palestinians? No. If this is a real handgun, would this twelve-year-old have the aim to get a bullet through one of these Pez-dispenser windows? Probably not. Is he surrounded by several young children? Yes. Sitting in a well-protected tower you would think a soldier would take the time to ask these questions before firing a shot to a crowded balcony of children. But the shot was fired, the nephew got a bullet in his leg (but survived), and the children of the camp now stay off their balconies and duck as they pass by windows in their homes.
“They’re so young” is so true. True of both the Palestinian kids who are traumatized by this Occupation and the soldiers who are given the job of carrying it out.
The boys of Ayda Camp.
