His room is ready; the walls
have fresh paint and my kids prepared a basket of chocolates and other
treats to place beside his bed. They hung a poster on his door that
has been decorated with colored pens and glitter that says "Welcome
Shobhi!" I have taught them that "Sobhi" actually means the "morning
light", and that during his visit, he will not be treated as a visitor,
but as a brother. They have compiled a list of fun places to visit,
parks, the beach and maybe a ferry ride.
Two weeks ago, my family, after
months of anticipation, were scheduled to be the host family for a very
special and unusual exchange program for kids from Gaza to visit the
US. Our host child, Sobhi was schedule to arrive on May 30th.
My family was excited and a
little nervous, I noticed my wife taking every opportunity to share
the news of the arrival of our special visitor. We call Sobhi's family
from time to time, realizing that sending a child off to a foreign land
to live with a strange family can be unsettling for a parent. But I
think our occasional conversations are putting everyone at ease.
As time has progressed, we
have learned more news of Sobhi's life and family in Gaza, and through
the weeks, news has changed and altered. We first thought he was 11
years old, and then learned that he is actually fifteen. We originally
thought his family lived in the town of Khan Yunis, but then learned
that he is from the northern town of Beit Lahia. We thought that he
was maimed when his house was demolished in the Israeli attack of January
2009, but then later learned that his leg was actually blown off by
an Israeli tank shell when the army opened fire on his family while
they were farming their land. So, day by day, we are learning more about
this fine young boy's tragic lot.
Like Sobhi, disgracefully growing
numbers of children forever maimed, dismembered and killed by Israel
are not only somehow disregarded by the world media and therefore the
world's conscience - but to add insult to injury - they are even denied
access to healthcare.
Sobhi is one of many Gazan
children that have been taken under the wing of the Palestinian Children's
Relief Fund, a non-profit, US based organization that organizes medical
exchange programs, sending injured children abroad for treatment when
it is inaccessible in Palestine, as well as sending medical teams to
Palestine for short-term medical missions.
While I cannot express my admiration
and gratefulness for the tireless work of the staff of PCRF, in anticipation
of Sobhi's arrival, the irony fails to escape me, that of this innocent
and unassuming son of a Gazan farmer, whose life is forever altered
by a tank shell propelled by Israel and subsidized by the US, to venture
alone across the world to be the recipient of another US manufactured
implement; a plastic leg.
And now, as if things could
get any worse, even the possibility of getting Sobhi here seems grim.
Coming from Gaza, Sobhi must
cross the Rafah border to begin his journey from Cairo. But Egypt is
refusing to grant Sobhi entry. It is the predicament that so many Gazans
face following the January massacres: hospitals lay in ruins, medicine
scarce, embargos on everything from medical equipment to medical teams
that have flocked to Rafah's border in droves from all over the world.
When Obama spoke in Cairo on
January 4, the closest major city was Gaza, where children flooded the
border, imploring the US leader to exert some pressure on Israel to
open the border and end the blockade that has imprisoned the entire
population for nearly two years. Children held banners with slogans
like, "a light of hope for Gaza children", and "Gaza children
appeal for help". Sahar Abu Foul, a nine-year-old girl who attended
the rally, said that the children in Gaza want Obama's help "to
secure a life like all other children." But considering his rigorous
schedule, Obama couldn't pencil in a visit to the border to address
this young crowd. However, just before his arrival, Congress invested
further money into fortifying the border area, allocating an addition
50 million dollars to secure the Rafah border, making Sobhi's crossing
all the more unlikely.
So the days pass. I telephone
Sobhi, who speaks with such maturity and courtesy on the phone, inquiring
about my health, the health of my family, and asking that God will grant
us lives of good health and other mercies. His medical charts say that
he is overcoming his depression and simply wants to join his father
in the fields again. He has uncomplicated aspirations and a seemingly
simple request; an artificial leg. His father, soft-spoken and a bit
shy seems to be resigned to the unfortunate possibility of his son not
coming to the US after all. I continue to encourage him, but I myself
also feel that this special and unusual exchange may have been too good
to be true. Sobhi says that he hopes that he will be able to help with
the olive harvest this year. But sometimes having hope in a place like
Gaza becomes more of a liability than a lifeline.