The Israeli airforce bombed Gaza yesterday.  I read about how cleverly they chose their targets.  What about their timing?  Palestinian children were making their way home from school all over the Gaza when it happened.  I also read that after a target was hit once, a bomber returned to hit it again, while rescue workers were attempting to assist anyone who had survived.

Before I continue, may I remind you that the people of Gaza have been illegally occupied by the state of Israel since 1967 – denied peace, economy, energy, food, medicine, (etc!). Babies have been born, grown, terrorized, imprisoned, beaten, bombed and murdered in Gaza for over forty years.  This is a wide open human wound.  Please don’t look away; look closer.

U.S. funded Israeli military forces took to the air over Gaza again today while I spent my afternoon with a big crowd of lovely people with a purpose.

This was interesting … “…THEY are TAUGHT TO KILL.”.  Who isn’t these days? It is important to point out that this is the only evidence I could find in my photo journal of the tiny gaggle of pro-killing-children-in-defense-of-Israel (a.k.a. COUNTER) protesters.

Let me put this another way: if you can’t have your beloved state of Israel without turning millions of people into refugees (on their own land) and/or displacing / bombing / starving / torturing / murdering them, indiscriminately, beyond disproportionately, then you should consider that it isn’t worth having, such as it is. (Canadians – take note: think about the Indian Act … now think again.)

We were gathered in front of the Israeli consulate, 180 Bloor Street West, Toronto, Canada… For whatever reason, the crowd I had joined kept growing while the one across the street remained a small, angry, static clot/mob which suddenly exited stage west – cold feet?  The ever increasing crowd of supporters of the people of Gaza suddenly overflowed their banks, occupying both sides of the street.  It was a beautiful, subtle, colourful bit of human poetry…

One gentleman I spoke to told me that as far as he knows, the consulate is on the seventh floor – he told me that the building’s elevators don’t stop on the seventh floor without special prearrangement.

We marched south, to the U.S. consulate …

I had met a precious young woman called Dua.  Her name means ‘prayer’ in Arabic.  We handed out leaflets together, moved with the crowd, smiled, discussed the mystery of hate and the miracle of love.  She sang to me. Go with God, Dua.  Peace be upon you and your family and everyone you love.

I fell in love with this guy instantly.  How could you not?!

He, possibly inspired by recent events at a press conference which needs no link, inspired others …

My toes have never been so warm on the concrete in December…

“Thank you, sweetheart.”
Ma’ salaam.