Amid the death, an incredible new life in Gaza
Updated on 19 January 2009
When our Gaza stringer Safwat al-Kahlout stopped answering his mobile phone last week, we feared the worst. But when he resurfaced, he had only good news. He picks up the story.
When my grandmother gave birth to my father, she gave him the name "Harbi", which means "The Warrior."
It was 1948, and my grandmother was fleeing with millions of other Palestinians from their lands, because the Jewish people were establishing their state. They used great force and the Palestinian people were obliged to leave and evacuate their homes.
Nine months ago, when my wife told me she was pregnant, we sat together and - like parents anywhere in the world - started planning for the future of our baby, number six in our growing family.
My wife and I didn't agree on a name, so we decided to discuss it later.
Two months ago, before the war on Gaza started, my wife and I visited a surgeon in the southern part of the Gaza Strip, who was supposed to do the cesarean section. We agreed on the 20 January as the date of the operation.
Suddenly, the Israelis began their war in Gaza, bombing every street in every neighborhood, from aircraft, navy, tanks, and artillery. Life in Gaza became an impossible hell.
The surgeon called me to cancel the date that we had set, saying it was too dangerous for him to come to Jabalia. He said, "Already five people got killed in front of the hospital by the Israeli rockets" He advised me to find an alternative place nearer my home.
My wife became so worried about her baby. Hospitals in Gaza City where I live are full of war casualties, moving around outside is dangerous and all the surgeons are so busy.
"What shall we do?" said my wife, Iman.
Hospitals in Gaza City where I live are full of war casualties, moving around outside is dangerous and all the surgeons are so busy.
Last Tuesday I found a private doctor to carry out the surgery. I took Iman, and after we made all the checks needed, he said the surgery must be done as soon as possible. We decided it should be Saturday.
My wife was so afraid. We had to beg her to agree, because she didn't want to leave her other five children alone in such a war, but the doctor and I managed to convince her.
Last Thursday, the Israeli tanks stormed Gaza City with a lot of gunfire from artillery and aircraft and they bombed UNRWA headquarters, and one of the Gaza hospitals.
Immediately in the morning the doctor called me saying, "Look! The situation is deteriorating and we have to do the operation tomorrow. Today we can move but afterwards I don't know what might happen!"
During the pregnancy period we had decided to name the baby "Mohammmed".
Because of the war atmosphere, many of my friends advised me to give him the name Harbi "The Warrior " like his grandfather, but we didn't like the idea because we wanted something to bring hope and peace rather than war. We decided to keep the name Mohammed but to give him the nickname "Abu Harbi".
My wife entered the operating theatre, and after half an hour "Abu Harbi" was delivered, crying and crying.
With these cries, hope started to find its way into my heart that was broken because of the children and others who had been killed as a result of the Israeli war on Gaza.
I wished at that time that all the children who were victims of wars, both Palestinians and Israelis, could come and join us in the celebration of the birth of Mohammed.
The fear that my wife and I experienced during the war disappeared when Mohammed began crying. I prayed to God that the birth of Mohammed could also be the birth of peace, that the war would stop and that Mohammed would grow up in a peaceful atmosphere.
I wanted him to play without any discrimination with kids from all over the world, including Israelis because they are the nearest children to him.
I know that these are difficult dreams to achieve because Mohammed's rights and his land have been confiscated, but at least it's not impossible.
Soon after the birth, we heard about some under-the-table agreements to stop the war on Gaza. Then I understood that the cries of Mohammed "Abu Harbi" were really carrying hope with them.
