Bereaved families in Israel and Palestine

"It was September 4th 1997, a Thursday at 3pm I was driving on my way to the airport to pick up my mother in law, when I heard the news on the radio saying that there had been a bomb in Jerusalem. Ok, I thought. Later my wife called to say that someone had seen Smadar (my 14-year old daughter) going down the mall near where the bomb had exploded.

At first in the depths of your heart you hope that the terrible finger won't point at you this time. You find yourself running crazily through the streets, going from one police station to the next, one hospital to the next, until eventually, much later in that long accursed night, you find yourself in the morgue and this terrible finger is right between your eyes and you see a sight that you will never, ever, be able to blot out…"

Rami Elchanan is a 57-year old graphic designer from Jerusalem. He is one of the thousands of Israeli's that have lost loved ones to suicide bombings. That day he describes two suicide bombers blew themselves up, one after another, near the Atara cafe in Ben Yehuda, a street always crowded at mid-afternoon. Four other by-standers along with Smader were killed. Smadar and her friends went to the Ben Yehuda Street that day to buy books for the new school year.

Rami speaks of the thousands of people who gave their support sympathy for the seven days following the funeral. "On the eighth day suddenly everyone disappears and you remain alone, now you must marshal your strength, get up, face yourself in the mirror and decide: what's next?"

Rami describes a decision making process that few family members of those killed in the conflict are able to see.

"When someone murders your 14-year old little daughter, the one and only thing you have in your head is unlimited anger and an urge for revenge that is stronger than death. This is a natural feeling, it's only human."

"However we have a head on our shoulders and inside that head we have a brain and when the first madness of anger passes, you begin to ask yourself penetrating questions: if I kill someone in revenge, will that bring my baby back to me? And if I cause someone pain, will that ease my own pain? And the answer is absolutely 'No'. Then, during a long and slow, difficult and painful process you gradually reach the other road, and you try to understand: what occurred here? What can drive someone to such anger and despair as to be willing to blow himself up together with little girls? And most important: what can you, personally, do to prevent this intolerable suffering from others..."

Some months after Rami met a man called Yitzchak Frankenthal. Frankenthal's son Arik had been kidnapped and murdered by Hamas in 1994 and he had established an organization of people who lost children in the conflict but nevertheless want Peace. Rami was initially angry and skeptical about Frankenthal's suggestion that he should come to one of their meetings. Nevertheless he went and he was shocked and overwhelmed by what he experienced and not just from fellow Israelis who had suffered in similar ways to him:

"And then I saw an amazing spectacle! Something that was completely new to me. I saw Arabs getting off the buses, bereaved Palestinian families: men, women and children, coming towards me, greeting me for peace, hugging me and crying with me... And I distinctly remember, a respectable elderly woman dressed in black from tip to toe and on her breast a locket with a picture of a kid, about six years old..." 

Rami describes that first meeting with the Parents Circle as a key turning point in his life:    

"There is a division of society, both socialise young children to sacrifice themselves at a young age. I was also one of those kids. I had never met a Palestinian as a human being - simply because they are hidden in a very sophisticated way. 

I was very shocked and overwhelmed by Palestinians who were also grieving and shaking my hand. It was a turning point. This meeting was the end of 1998, I was 47 years of age.

Since that day on I have dedicated my life to one thing only: to go from ear to ear and from person to person and to shout in a loud voice, to all who are prepared to listen, and also to those whose ears are blocked: This is not our destiny! It is not a decree of fate that cannot be changed! Nowhere is it written that we must continue dying and sacrificing our children forever and forever in this difficult horrible holy land. We can and once and for all must stop this crazy vicious circle of violence, murder and retaliation revenge and punishment."

Rami is one of 60 Israeli and Palestinian members of the Parents Circle that tour secondary schools in Palestine and Israel and talk about their experiences and their different views on being a victim of the conflict. Of course what is most powerful is that these talks are not done alone - an Israeli and Palestinian stand side by side and share their stories. Rami explains that an Israeli and a Palestinian sharing in such a way together is something that is quite surprising for many children. School talks are just one of the many activities of the Parents Circle.

On prospects for peace Rami comments: 

"One must be able to listen to the others pain and then you can expect yours to be heard. I have no faith in the politicans. We need to look above the politicans and create the mood that politicans will respond to. The process is too slow, maybe its too late but it can happen."

Parents Circle - Families Forum (PCFF) is a grassroots organisation of bereaved Palestinians and Israelis. The PCFF promotes reconciliation as an alternative to hatred and revenge. For more information see http://theparentscircle.org/

See Rami and his Palestinian colleague Mazen on a TV interview: 

http://www.pbs.org/wnet/religionandethics/episodes/june-26-2009/parents-circle/3376/