This morning, perhaps in the wake of unfolding news from the a fresh explosion of violence in the Middle East, I awake thinking of Hind Rakab. For many, her story will come to represent the true meaning of these wars of revenge and colonalism. In case you don’t know what happened, read on (but you should be warned, This is bleak.)
On January 29, 2024 a five-and-a-half-year-old girl named Hind Rajab was murdered in the Tel al Hawa district of Gaza by the Israeli Defence Forces (IDF). Hind, her aunt, her uncle, and three cousins were fleeing in an automobile after being ordered to evacuate only to be targeted by an Israeli tank. Her fifteen year old cousin Layan Hamala phoned the Palestine Red Crescent Society (because that is what you do when your family have all been injured and lie dying all around you.) and was shot dead by a nearby tank during the phone call. An ambulance was sent to the site with permission given by the Israeli military who, nonetheless, bombed the ambulance killing two paramedics. Hind, wounded and pleading for help, spent over three hours on the telephone before the line went out of service. The whole thing was recorded on the Red Crescent telephone system. A little girl’s last moments.
Twelve days later the car was found destroyed with all of its inhabitants dead inside. According to later forensic analysis, 335 bullets were fired at the car. Some of the corpses had apparently begun to decompose.
Today we read that one hundred of boys and girls – perhaps some also called Hind – were killed in the American strikes on Iran. Perhap more were killed by the retaliation. These are not games. Not for girls like Hind.
As agents of the Kingdom of God we dance to the Spirit of peace. What might that mean for you today as you consume the news? At very least, may it bring rage. May it make us long for justice and a time when we look back and remember Hind and al the other little Hinds who died at the hands of powerful men.
The fruit of the Spirit is Peace
After the rain squalling
And the bombs falling
After the back stabbing
And the tongue lashing
After love is betrayed
And dreams disarrayed
When the knife cuts and slashes
After sackcloth and ashes
Comes the peaceAfter the tumours
And cruel vicious rumours
After bodies broken
And evil words spoken
After guns cease their shooting
Troops no longer jack-booting
With the grave trodden down
And the trees now turned brown
Comes peaceEven after the failure
Of life-long labour
And after deadlines missed
After the getting pissed
When the pressure’s done mounting
And it’s all over-even the shouting
When the race has been run
In the setting of sun
Comes the peaceWhen anger burns out
After faith turns to doubt
When we give up on walking
And wolf packs are stalking
When the money is spent
Safety curtains are rent
At the end of all coping
Even Polyanna’s done hopingEven then
Will fall
My peaceChris Goan, from ‘Listing’
