By Nashat Halawi, activist
Somewhere in the hills near the Hizme checkpoint, January 3 – We have to get going, Ahmad. It’s almost time for those school buses to pass by on the road down the hill, and we have resistance to maintain. These firebombs ain’t gonna throw themselves at those Jewish kids.
I know you’re tire this morning; I’m tired too. It’s par for the course among those who ceaselessly fight the occupier. You think the occupation soldiers care that we’re tired? You think the driver of that school bus we hope to set alight, killing as many Jewish children as possible, cares how tired we are? Then neither should we. We can rest once we finish pushing the Jews into the sea, or after we’re martyred trying to push the Jews into the sea. In the meantime, we have enemy children to burn. But that’s up to us – these Molotov cocktails, as I need not inform you, lack the ability to achieve independent flight toward infidel motorists and passengers.
We spent all this time preparing them, you and I. I get that you got only a few hours of sleep last night; I did, as well, because we were both cheering on the gunman who opened fire at occupation soldiers, and then got killed by return fire. The injustice burns! But not as bad as these firebombs will burn those Jews – if we actually go about hurling at those buses, that is. It’s not going to happen without our effort. Firebombs don’t hurl themselves.
I appreciate Palestinian ingenuity and resourcefulness as much as the next mujahid, Ahmad. I, too, never thought we’d see in the Palestinian arsenal rockets that can go from Gaza to Jerusalem, but that which we couldn’t construct in Gaza from repurposed sewer pipes, we smuggled from Iran via Egypt. One day, then, perhaps, we will have at our disposal Molotov cocktails that can throw themselves at Jewish kids, but until then, the throwing part remains our job. As some of our American allies are fond of quoting some ancient text, if not now, when? Who will burn those Jewish schoolchildren if we do not make it our mission, our sacred duty? Martyrs make themselves, unlike firebombs.
Come on, Ahmad. Do I have to ask Azmi to go instead of you? You’d love that, having him get the glory in Janna for roasting a Jewish fourth-grader to death in her bus seat. She won’t burn herself, you know. Lets go already!
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