A cry for the Ummah


Daybreak. As the sun rises and light begins to fall, the horror of what has occurred begins to rear its ugly face. Where once stood buildings, there is rubble. Where once the laughter of children playing bellowed filled the town, there is silence. Where once brothers used to mingle is the litter of rotting corpses. The streets are empty, save for the dead and their murderers.

These past weeks have seen some of the most horrific crimes committed against any people, yet the whole world stood by and watched, with some utterances of condemnation, but really nothing else. The world stood by and watched whilst Palestinian homes were bulldozed down, where men irrespective of age or ability were branded terrorists and either summarily executed, taken away never to be seen again, or used as human shields, whilst children who would ‘dare’ to break the curfew in order to buy some bread to eat were shot, where sewage had to be drunk because no clean water was available, where hospitals and ambulances were used as target practice, where pregnant mothers were forced to give birth at checkpoints, where the dead were prohibited from being buried. These acts of savagery have shown the that for the Jews it is not enough to exterminate the Palestinians, they must humiliate their dead as well. !

For many of us, these atrocities committed in Palestine is nothing but a soap- opera in which we turn on and tune in every day for the latest installment, to get our daily fix in order to appease ourselves that ‘at least we care’. But then there are some who go further and actually do something, be it a march, petition, or boycotting goods: however in all honesty these are merely transient remedies for a much deeper wound. And then there are those who decide to take the brave step, who realize that the most precious possession they have to give, more than their time, money and status is their blood. They are the few of the few.

There are harrowing echoes of Bosnia, accounts of an elderly woman in a wheelchair stranded in a open field whilst IDF soldiers just watched and laughed at her helplessness and reveled in their power, and then of the mothers who risk their lives by breaking the curfew because they have no milk to feed their babies, or accounts of the elderly being forced to walk to in front of the Jewish tanks….these stories are not fables of a bygone age of oppression, something from the stone age where men were savages, no, these are eye witnessed accounts of the brutality which our brothers and sisters of Palestine have suffered by the Jews. This, is the New World Order. However, these are the stories that the Ummah will never forget, these are the stories which will inspire a new generation of Mujahideen, these are the stories which will be fuel for the fire which, by the help of Allah, will soon engulf the Jews.

A Billion strong? Rather they call us the nation of a Billion cowards. When once they would only dare to whisper it amongst themselves, now they proclaim it openly, boasting that the Muslims will do nothing to help each other. Indeed the weight of evidence is on their side, for during the early days of the Afghanistan war there was much outrage in the Muslim Ummah, yet they continued undeterred, they even dared to kill our brothers and sisters in the month of Ramadan whilst we stood by and did nothing. Ask yourself why they are so confident?

Look outside your window, quiet isn’t it? Now imagine that there are Apache Helicopters and American F-16 fighter jets circling menacingly above you, now begins the onslaught; one after another, relentlessly rockets are fired into your town, into your house, at your family. This is precisely what has happened in Palestine. They say this is a war on ‘Terrorism’, and civilians are being spared, funny, I didn’t know a rocket could differentiate between a father and his son, funny I didn’t know a rocket could differentiate between a mother and her daughter. Quite obviously my lack of education has brought about this ignorance, how uncivilized of me.

When you sleep tonight, look around your house, nice isn’t it? Then think of the old mother who was at one moment sitting in her home much the same as you and I, in her sanctuary, and then in the blink of an eye found herself under a pile of rubble. This elderly mother had been buried alive by Israeli bulldozers as they tore through the streets. Imagine the depth of darkness she must have felt whilst being trapped beneath all that rubble, shouting but to no reply, crying but to no consolation she lay there starving, not knowing which would kill her first, starvation or uffocation. Then almost as angels the sons and daughters of Palestine rescue her. Imagine her unrestrained joy. Then she is taken to the hospital only to be told that eight other members of her family had been killed.

The victims of the IDF genocide are many and varied. Take Sami Abda who lived in Bethlehem, but is now a prisoner of the IDF. He was sitting in his home when the IDF started firing into his home even though they had been forewarned that women and children were in it, but did they care? Then, almost inevitably Sami’s mother and brother were shot and before him, before his own eyes. What does that do to a man? What would that do to you? Sami said:

“They hit my mother, Sumaya, and my brother Jacoub. My mother was 64, my brother was 37. They both fell to the floor. I called everyone I could to take them to the hospital. But there was no one to help us. They were dying. When an ambulance came, an Israeli officer refused permission for it to enter our street. So for 30 hours, we have lived with their bodies. We put the children into the bathroom so they could not see the corpses. Help us, please.” “My mother ran for help. A soldier shot her in the head”

His is not an isolated case. In Jenin, the town of the slaughtered, Abdullah Washai watched his 17 year old brother bleed to death in his arms after being shot by circling helicopters made and paid for by the USA. His mother not being able to simply watch her son whom she had carried in her womb, the son whom she had fed when he couldn’t feed himself, the son whom she had cleaned when he couldn’t clean himself, she could not just stand by and watch him die. A brave warrior she ran out into the street, with no care for her personal safety screaming for help, but none came. Only a bullet from Jewish terrorists into her head.

So please tell the little girl in Jenin who is forced to drink sewage because no clean water is available, who is sobbing because her mother has been taken away whilst her father was murdered, tell her not to worry because a petition is coming, tell her not to worry because you went on a rally with thousands of others around the world but then returned to your every day life, tell her not to worry because you have written to your local Member of Parliament and he is really sorry so many people are dying. Tell her not to worry because when you finish your studies you are going to be successful and more recognized in the community and then when you talk people will listen. But then she says I need you now. And whilst you wait, dithering, deliberating, about how much more useful to Islam you will be as a Doctor, or as a Banker, or as Lawyer, whilst you sit there and convince yourself of these lies, yet another Israeli tank rolls into another street, yet another Israeli bulldozer ruthlessly crushes another house burying the family alive, yet another Israeli soldier slaughters our innocent brothers and sisters, and whilst we wait yet another Ayesha cries out for her brother to come and help her now. But then she stops crying, because she realizes, that her brothers in the Ummah have love for this Dunya and a hatred for the death. And then you pause momentarily as you reflect, and you feel sad for a while, but then you just turn the TV on shrugging your shoulders muttering to yourself ‘What can I do about it?’

Sleep well tonight, as the tears of Jenin echoes through your heart.

May Allah forgive us for allowing our brothers and sisters to have been slaughtered, may Allah forgive us for standing idly by whilst our fathers have been slaughtered, may Allah forgive us for allowing our mothers to have been slaughtered, and may Allah forgive us for allowing our children to have been slaughtered.

No more tears. Let these four walls bear witness to the last burning tear drop trickle down my face, no more tears, the time for action is upon us. ‘There is only one death, so why not make it for the sake of Allah?’