By E. Yaghi

How did we fall? Can we get up at all?

A place in the Middle East, written on Valentine's Day. - As I looked out the window over the ancient graceful hills, so similar to those of Jerusalem, I thought of what Valentine's Day meant to me.

When I was a child growing up in my native America, Valentine's Day was fun because my mother had to go out and buy for me cards to give to each kid in my class. It was a school ritual, passing out and receiving valentines from fellow classmates. The gathered cards became my pile of treasures, hoarded and cherished by me until I tired of them. Eventually such treasures, diamonds turned tin, ended up in the trash bin and became fuel for some remote incinerator that would puff out into the winter sky, the remnants of Valentine memories. I was not old enough then to receive from a dashing admirer, a box of chocolates or a red rose as a symbol of what life was supposed to be all about.

Since my carefree childhood days, many Valentine seasons have come and gone. What mattered to me then is of little significance to me now. Valentine's Day is just another day to me, nothing special. I see it for what it is, a day that passes, a day that other people may or may not express their feelings of love for another human being.

What puzzles me though, is that while American tax dollars provide the most sophisticated weapons to Israel, the army-state, to shoot, to bomb, to massacre, to carry out ethnic cleansing, to demolish homes, to uproot trees, and to assassinate those that the Israelis deem fit to die, Arabs in surrounding countries are worried about emulating a day celebrated mostly by those who encourage or financially support the slaughter of unarmed Palestinian civilians.

In Arabic newspapers, poetic expressions splash across pages and pages of verbosity, advertising the perfect Valentine's gift or that special cozy dinner for two at the best restaurants in the respective town where the publications are distributed.

Radios all over the Arab world blast out songs of celebration and messages of love and exchanges of gifts while not so far away, in the streets of Palestine, little Palestinian Davids are shot down by Israeli Goliath sharpshooters, and other little Palestinians are orphaned by Israeli hit squads.

On Valentine's Day, Mossud Ayyad, 50, a man close to Palestinian President Yasser Arafat, was buried. He was slain when an Israeli helicopter gunship fired a volley of rockets at his car north of Gaza the day before.

Not long after Ayyad was assinated, Bilal Ramadan, 13, was shot in the chest and killed when he was walking home from school. Just before he was buried, Bilal's little sister Sausan bent down to plant on her brother's forehead, a final farewell kiss. No one told little Sausan that today was Valentine's Day. No one told her that it was a day of love and red roses. No one told her that she and other Palestinians had to bear their pain, suffering and deaths alone while Arabs in happier countries celebrated a day that meant nothing to her.

South of Gaza, near the Jewish settlement of Gush Kitif, Palestinian children who were playing in the street near their homes ran for cover in Khan Younis refugee camp from shelling by Israeli soldiers.

Also in Khan Younis, the Israeli army not only shelled civilian targets, but also threw tear gas tainted with nerve gas at the civilian occupants of the camp. More than 40 people were treated for gas-related injuries and another 50 were hurt by flying bullets and shrapnel when the area was under the Israeli bombardment.

While the Palestinians continue to die, Arab foreign ministers met in Jordan, just before Valentine's Day, to "prepare" for next month's Arab summit. Naturally, nothing was accomplished but empty words, more verbosity and a lot of rhetoric. It is like a wimpy person with a wimpier dog, telling his dog to attack the thief who is trying to rob him. Because the dog is wimpy, just like his owner, he barks a faint, "bow wow." The thief pays no heed to the dog or his owner because he knows neither poses a threat to him.

The majority of Arab leaders care only about preserving their power and securing their authority. They pay lip service to the Intifida and cry crocodile tears at the Palestinian casualties, but they love the status quo, you know, "keeping the Palestinians in their place." An example of this is when the Bahraini prince, Sheikh Hamad, asked his people to decide by voting whether he should declare himself a king or remain a prince. What people seem to be missing here is that it makes no difference what his title is, he takes it all anyway regardless of what people call him.

Israel knows that the Arab leaders are like foam on water. They are useless, greedy, selfish, and could care less who dies wherever in the world as long as it is not them or their families. Israel knows that these leaders are encouraged and supported by the American government to remain tyrants, to discourage freedom and democracy and to keep things just the way they are. If one Arab country was genuine about cutting ties with America and helping the Palestinians and encouraged other Arab countries to do the same, Palestine would no longer be a killing ground for the most oppressive army-state in modern history.

The blood of these innocent Palestinians stains all our hands, for in our silence; we are accessories to all the crimes committed against the indigenous inhabitants of Palestine. We are mute as we watch like spectators in a Roman theater, Palestinians led to the slaughter. We witness and do nothing about the Palestinian Holocaust. How did we fall? Can we get up at all?

Happy Valentine's Day.

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