Arab Warrior´s Daughter Tells Her Tale
Daughter of an Arab Warrior Tells Her Tale
By Nonie Darwish
12/30/02
I hope that my story will shed light on the truth
in the Middle East to every American, especially
to those who subscribe to the erroneous idea that
US policy in that region must have caused Islamic
and Arab hatred of the West.
My father, who was not a Palestinian, was a very
prominent military officer in the Middle East, I
will not mention the country for personal reasons.
His job was to mobilize Palestinian forces into
Israeli territory and cause as much death and
damage to Israel as possible. As a small child
in the 50´s, I remember the horror of being told
not to take any candy or fruit from any stranger
since it could have a bomb in it. Our house was
surrounded with security, a couple of times our
train trip was cancelled because the train tracks
were bombed. I remember sleeping nights under the
bed fearing the sound of bombs and explosions.
I remember going to a Palestinian preschool and
kindergarten and the word "Jew" instilled terror
and dread into the core of my very being. A Jewish
person was portrayed like less than human, a dog,
an evil alien from outer space who was about to
destroy the world. Jews, they said, had no home
because they were cursed by God and the main
mission of Islam was to get rid of Jews. As a
small child I remember once, at a Palestinian
school, asking "why?" The response was that I was
a traitor for asking this question and would go to
hell, and for the rest of the day the girls in the
school did not talk to me. The education was
mainly political, teaching kids the hatred of
Israel. Arabic poetry was recited daily, with
tears in Palestinian children´s eyes, on how
Palestine was taken from them and how they will
retaliate and even die to get it back.
In spite of this atmosphere, my own family which
was not Palestinian, did not discuss this hatred.
To my mother, and I think also to my father, whom
I hardly remember, his job was his duty, nothing
more and nothing less, and I don´t think he really
liked it. ...[].... Two weeks before leaving his
post he was killed by the Israelis in retaliation.
My loving father died at age 35 and never saw his
children grow, let alone his grandchildren. He
was robbed of his life and for that I blame the
Middle Eastern Islamic culture and the propaganda
of hatred taught to children from birth.
Immediately after my father´s death many people
congratulated (!!!) us as the children of a hero
and a shahid "Martyr". I remember I spent many
nights crying alone wishing he did not have a
cause to die for and I resented the idea of
martyrdom. It never made sense to my young mind
then since, why should God want us to die for a
cause when he gave us life?! I was told that my
dad was in heaven now since he died as martyr and
schools and streets were named after him. I was
shocked to know that almost 90% of streets in the
Middle East are named after martyrs. As I
walked in my neighborhood I found street after
street with men´s names who gave their lives to
martyrdom! What a disaster to many families and
children, but we were taught only to be proud and
retaliate! I dreamed my father would probably come
back home from heaven since we needed him more
than heaven....""
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