How I hate weeks that start out like this! It's only Monday, the day to submit this column, and I don't know what to write. I could come out looking like a total idiot on Friday when my piece is published. Just try to guess how a week that begins like this will end. Granted, this isn't a political column and I could ignore everything that's happening in the big, wide world and relate some amusing family tale, but it would be dangerous to do that this week.
Maybe by Friday there will no longer be such a thing as Gaza, and what a jerk I'll be; the morning that the whole world is talking about what used to be Gaza and I'm the only one talking about some quarrel with my wife or another trip to the mall. Not to mention that nothing interesting has happened at home lately that I could tell you about, except maybe that I got stung. By a spider, I think. My leg swelled up like a balloon and I couldn't move. It's a whole long saga, but not really appropriate for weeks like this.
So just to be on the safe side in case, heaven forbid, that Gaza is no more, or that the Israel Defense Forces has wiped out half of it or even just invaded and taken out a few dozen people by Friday, I'll write as follows: The chief of staff, defense minister and prime minister should be tried for war crimes. The entire IDF, from top to bottom, is guilty. The whole country is guilty. The international community must intervene immediately in order to halt the slaughter of the Palestinians and to provide protection to the innocent Palestinian civilian.
Ju
Just so you understand, I was bitten in a very sensitive spot, and the whole area within a five-centimeter radius swelled up and turned a scorching red, and the redness and swelling spread also to the surrounding veins and it was a most dreadful sight, let me tell you. 'You have to go to a doctor,' my wife yelled at me when she saw that I'd started to limp.
And let's say, heaven forbid, that the Israeli assault on Gaza isn't launched by Friday, that the IDF exercises restraint and tries to reach agreement with the Palestinians through diplomatic channels on the conditions for the release of the captured soldier. Let's say, heaven forbid, that only on Thursday evening, or Friday morning, they realize that there is no chance for a release agreement and the green light is given for a combat unit to raid the hiding place where, according to intelligence sources, the soldier is being held.
Let's say that the operation does not end the way the military top brass hoped it would and that the Israeli tragedy becomes even greater than it was at the beginning of the week. Then you, dear readers, if you are so inclined to peruse the words of a terrorist-journalist who has the gall to ramble on about his spider bite and his swollen leg, will regret that I didn't die because of the bite. And you'll hope that the next time an especially venomous viper will slither down all the way from south Mount Hebron to bite me in the heart and cause me a slow and painful death. And you'll hope that the snake won't stop there, but will go on to bite the whole neighborhood and then move on to Beit Lahia and wipe out the whole refugee camp.
In case this is the scenario that opens the Friday news, then I will proclaim the following: great sorrow, a terrible tragedy. This is not the way of Islam. Every Muslim child knows how careful our religion and our prophet, may he rest in peace, are about prisoners of war. Even if the Palestinians felt they were in danger, they should first of all have endangered themselves and absolutely not sacrificed the life of the soldier, for whose life they and they alone were responsible. One can only hope that, in the upcoming reprisal action, the IDF and the leaders of this country will show restraint and think twice before embarking on any action that could lead to loss of life among the innocent population of Gaza. (It's impossible to hope for no casualties at all, but at least they ought to be kept to a reasonable minimum, if possible. With a thank you in advance to the IDF.)
The pain intensified and this morning I couldn't move the leg anymore. 'You could end up with gangrene,' my wife said. 'You need a doctor.' It pleased me a little that she was so worried about my leg and I even thanked her for her concern. She said that she didn't care about my leg; the problem was that the gangrene could spread upward. Because of the location of the bite(the upper thigh) I'm not rushing to a doctor since I hate the idea of getting undressed because of a little bite. I'm sure it will clear up on its own. 'Wear boxers,' she said, and left for work.
What will happen by Friday? What do you write in a week that starts this way? Maybe I'm just being pessimistic, like usual. Maybe the negotiations between the Israelis and Palestinians over the soldier will be terrific. Perhaps the commander from the Israeli side and his Palestinian counterpart will discover that they have a lot of things in common. They'll drink coffee together, they'll laugh. They'll invite some more friends to join them, they'll get the soldier released. And since the Palestinians turned out to be such good guys about the whole thing, then as a gesture of appreciation, Israel will go ahead and release about 1,000 prisoners, or maybe even all of them. And the soldier, maybe at the press conference following his release, will actually say that he joked around with his jailers, that they took good care of him and that he ate the best hummus in the world.
Maybe by Friday both sides will understand that it is possible to talk; maybe they'll realize that the targeted assassinations are ridiculous, and the shellings even more so; and Hamas will apologize for the Qassams and Sderot Mayor Eli Moyal will forgive them and declare Dir al-Balah and Sderot sister cities. Mahmoud Darwish will write a song for Kobi Oz and it will be a hit, a hymn of peace. If this all happens by Friday, I'd feel free to tell you about how I got bitten last Saturday night and how my leg swelled up.