My 10-year-old niece was killed by an Israeli bomb. Before she died, she decided to write a will.
Asem Alnabih
Ten-year-old children are supposed to be busy playing with toys, doodling and hanging out with their friends, not writing a will in case they die.
“My will, if I become a martyr or pass away: Please do not cry for me, because your tears cause me pain. I hope my clothes will be given to those in need. My accessories should be shared between Rahaf, Sara, Judy, Lana, and Batool. My bead kits should go to Ahmed and Rahaf. My monthly allowance, 50 shekels, 25 to Rahaf and 25 to Ahmed. My stories and notebooks to Rahaf. My toys to Batool. And please, do not yell at my brother Ahmed, please follow these wishes.”
a sheet of paper with writing in Arabic in red colour
No one in the family knew anything about a will from my 10-year-old niece Rasha, not until after we buried her in the same grave as her brother, Ahmed, aged 11, with half their faces gone as a result of an Israeli air strike on their home on September 30. This happened exactly 24 years to the day when 12-year-old Muhammad al-Durrah was killed in Gaza.
It seems as though Israel was reminding us of its longstanding track record of killing defenceless children.
It is hard to forget the horror of standing in front of the destroyed building, let alone the terror that enveloped the parents as they rushed to the lifeless bodies of their young children.
The building had been bombed once already a few months earlier, on June 10. Israel had dropped two missiles that day, one for each child as they quipped after we managed to pull the whole family out of the rubble with minor injuries. There was no reason to bomb it then like there was no reason to bomb it on September 30.
