“Last night I dreamt that a soldier was arresting Mohammed. He was on the street in the middle of the village and he was crying as the soldier was trying to take him and I was saying, ‘why, why, take my son?’ but the soldier took him away. This morning when he went to school I told him to be careful because of my dream. They arrest them at school, on the way to school, on the way home fro school, at the demonstration, everywhere.” I am sitting in the home of my dear friend, Tasaheel, having breakfast. She is a mother of five children. Mohammed, her middle child, is 13, only a year younger than my son, Elijah. “A mother,” she says “is tired all the time every day from taking care of her children, and it only takes a moment for a soldier to kill them”.
The day before I arrived in the village of Bil’in, Mohammed’s 15-year-old brother, Abdul Khaliq, had been shot with a new kind of rubber bullet at the village’s weekly demonstration. It is a large bullet covered with blue foam. Abdul Khaliq says the purpose of it is hit a larger area of your body. A year and a half ago, Majd, the oldest child, was shot with live ammunition in his leg. It severed a nerve and he no longer can feel anything in his foot.
Tashaheel told me when I arrived that every night she dreams of soldiers and every morning she wakes up afraid that another of her children, will be shot like Majd and become disabled or killed. She told me that she wakes up every morning in fear for all the children in Palestine. Tears well up in her eyes. I want to tell something to soothe her, I want to tell her that it will be ok, but there is nothing I can say, except to sit with her in witness.
At night I sit outside with Majd and we talk about his hopes for his future. He tells me about his favorite moves and shows he things he has written, what music videos he likes. He wants to become a nerve surgeon because when he was shot there was no nerve surgeon available at the hospital in Ramallah where he was first taken. I ask if I can interview him about the shooting. He tells that if a nerve surgeon had been available (or if he could have easily been taken to the hospital in Jerusalem right away) he might not have permanently lost the feeling in his foot.