Inside Fallujah:
One Familys
Diary Of Terror
By Dahr Jamail
15 November, 2004
Sundayherald
She
weeps while telling the story. The abaya (tunic) she wears cannot hide
the shaking of her body as waves of grief roll through her. I
cannot get the image out of my mind of her foetus being blown out of
her body.
Muna Salims
sister, Artica, was seven months pregnant when two rockets from
US warplanes struck her home in Fallujah on November 1. My sister
Selma and I only survived because we were staying at our neighbours
house that night, Muna continued, unable to reconcile her survival
while eight members of her family perished during the pre-assault bombing
of Fallujah that had dragged on for weeks.
Khalid, one of their
brothers who was also killed in the attack, has left behind a wife and
five young children.
There were
no fighters in our area, so I dont know why they bombed our home,
said Muna. When it began there were full assaults from the air
and tanks attacking the city, so we left from the eastern side of Fallujah
and came to Baghdad.
Selma, Munas
41-year-old sister, told of horrific scenes in the city which has become
the centre of resistance in Iraq over the last few months. She described
houses that had been razed by countless US air strikes, where the stench
of decaying bodies swirled around the city on the dry, dusty winds.
The bombed
houses had collapsed and covered the bodies, and nobody could get to
them because people were too afraid to drive a bulldozer, she
explained, throwing her hands into the air in despair.
Even for people
to walk out of their houses is impossible in Fallujah because of the
snipers.
Both sisters described
a nightmarish existence inside the city where fighters controlled many
areas, food and medicine were often in short supply, and the thumping
concussions of US bombs had become a daily reality.
Water also was often
in short supply, and electricity a rarity. Like many families cowered
down inside Fallujah they ran a small generator when they could afford
the fuel.
Even when
the bombs were far away, glasses would fall off our shelves and break,
said Muna. None of us could sleep as during the night it was worse.
While going to the
market in the middle of the day to find food, the sisters said they
felt terrorised by US warplanes, which often roared over the sprawling
city. The jets flew over so much, said Selma, but
we never knew when they would strike the city.
The women described
a scene of closed shops, mostly empty streets, and terrorised residents
wandering around the city not knowing what to do.
Fallujah was
like a ghost town most of the time, described Muna. Most
families stayed inside their houses all the time, only going out for
food when they had to.
Tanks often attacked
the outskirts of the city in skirmishes with resistance fighters, adding
to the chaos and unrest. Attack helicopters rattling low over the desert
were especially terrifying, criss-crossing over the city and firing
rockets into the centre.
While recounting
their familys traumatic experiences over the last few weeks, from
their uncles home in Baghdad, each of the sisters often paused,
staring at the ground as if lost in the images before adding more detail.
Their 65-year-old mother, Hadima, was killed in the bombing, as was
their brother Khalid, who was an Iraqi police captain. Their sister
Kaahla and her 22-year-old son also died.
Our situation
was like so many in Fallujah, said Selma, continuing, her voice
now almost emotionless and matter of fact. The months of living in terror
are etched on her face.
So many people
could not leave because they had nowhere to go, and no money.
Adhraa, another
of their sisters, and Samr, Articas husband, were also among the
victims. Samr had a PhD in religious studies. Artica and Samr had a
four-year-old son, Amorad, who died with his parents and his unborn
brother or sister.
The two sisters
managed to flee the city from the eastern side, carefully making their
way through the US military cordon which, for the most part, encircled
the area. As they left, they witnessed a scene that was full assaults
on their city from US warplanes and tanks .
Why was our
family bombed? pleaded Muna, tears streaming down her cheeks,
There were never any fighters in our area.
Dahr Jamail
is one of those very few independent journalists in Iraq. His travel
and reporting expenses are covered by the donations he receives from
his readers. You can help Dahr continue his crucial work by making donations.
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