Oggi c'è una furiosa tempesta di sabbia. Pensavo che questo fermasse le bombe: mi sbagliavo. E forse al di là della presunta precisione, forse a chi attacca importa solo distruggere.
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Grazie
The Bombs are still exploding
Bettejo Passalaqua, Iraq Peace Team
25 March 2003
There was heavy bombing last night. Unbelievably, I slept through most of it.
For the most part I stayed in the hotel today taking care of paper work. I did go out in search of coffee - open stores are few and far between and we covered much ground and 6 stores before we could find a supply of coffee. I only mention this excursion so to note that life does go on. In lesser numbers, but nonethless present, are cars in the streets, people walking about people buying and selling, friends sharing hot cups of tea, and all the while bombs are exploding near and far.
Today there is a tremendous sandstorm. I would have thought that this would have stopped the bombing, as it seems it would be difficult to guide the missiles and planes with any precision, but apparently it is not a problem for guidance, or the military
just isn't too concerned if mistakes are made.
The hospitals are receiving numerous civilian casualties. Members of our team have been going to the emergency rooms. We try to keep our numbers small in these visits so as not to get in the way or give the sense of sensationalizing these tragedies.
Eight year old Dema - one of the children here at the hotel whom I believe I have mentioned before - just came up to see what I was doing. She seemed disappointed that I was "busy." She wants to teach me Arabic. Unfortunately, she hasn't started learning
English yet, so communication is a little difficult. However, this fact doesn't hinder her one bit. She talks her pretty little head off to me though I understand little. We are teaching each other by drawing pictures of various objects and then writing the words for the pictures in Arabic and English. Next year she will begin learning English in school.
Last night a few members of our team went to a hospital trauma center near here. A family was brought in while they were there. This family had fled Baghdad and were staying at a farm outside the city, being under the assumption it would be safer. The farm was bombed. Several of the members were seriously injured. An eight year old, Fatehah, was killed. Her body was still buried under the rubble of the house when the other family members were brought to the hospital. Fatehah's chance to learn English in school next year, to play the word games Dema plays, is gone. Her
existence has been stolen by this war.
The glass of the front door of the hotel just shattered from the wind. And the bombs are still exploding. I will go now and play some word games with Dema.
Page last updated: 25 March 2003, 16:51 CST
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