The Contribution of Women to Peace and Reconciliation
The Contribution of Women to Peace and Reconciliation
The Contribution of Women to Peace and Reconciliation
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A very hard experience with war was in 1980, when we moved <strong>to</strong> Beirut,<br />
<strong>to</strong>gether with my father. <strong>The</strong>re, we experienced the civil war. We<br />
lived in West Beirut, surrounded by PLO militants <strong>and</strong> by Lebanese military.<br />
But life was also normal: we went swimming in the sea <strong>and</strong> had<br />
love s<strong>to</strong>ries. I was only a teenager, but I clearly unders<strong>to</strong>od the situation<br />
in which we found ourselves. I participated in first aid <strong>and</strong> civil aid train -<br />
ing courses. My father insisted on that, arguing that although we attend -<br />
ed school <strong>and</strong> lived normal lives, we should be able <strong>to</strong> help ourselves<br />
<strong>and</strong> others.<br />
<strong>The</strong> first time I saw clashes was in Lebanon in 1981. We are three sisters;<br />
I was fifteen at that time, I’m the eldest. We returned from school.<br />
It usually <strong>to</strong>ok twenty minutes <strong>to</strong> get home. As we approached our<br />
house, we heard the Kalashnikovs. We s<strong>to</strong>pped <strong>and</strong> observed the roads<br />
for some minutes; we couldn’t see anything particular, <strong>and</strong> decided <strong>to</strong><br />
continue on our way home. As we walked down the hill <strong>to</strong>ward a square,<br />
the sounds <strong>of</strong> the Kalashnikovs got stronger <strong>and</strong> we saw the fighting. I<br />
have no idea why we didn’t realize that earlier. I remember hiding behind<br />
a Mercedes Benz, but that’s all; from there on, my memories s<strong>to</strong>p. How<br />
we got home. I don’t remember. We never talked about how we got<br />
home. But I remember that the same night, as we slept, all three sisters<br />
in the same room, the shooting started again, <strong>and</strong> we woke up. We<br />
heard shooting <strong>and</strong> saw muzzle flashes. We kept awake listening <strong>to</strong> the<br />
sounds <strong>of</strong> the shooting. We stayed in our beds, <strong>and</strong> didn’t go <strong>to</strong> our fa -<br />
ther’s room. <strong>The</strong> following morning, we talked about it with him. He<br />
said, “Don’t worry, go <strong>to</strong> school, I will go <strong>to</strong> work”, <strong>and</strong> we continued<br />
with our lives, we went <strong>to</strong> school, on the same route as always.<br />
<strong>The</strong> first time I saw injured people was in 1981, when Israeli airplanes<br />
bombed two buildings <strong>of</strong> the famous Arab University area, which was<br />
then the headquarters <strong>of</strong> all Palestinian organizations. <strong>The</strong> two high build -<br />
ings exploded <strong>and</strong> many injured <strong>and</strong> dead people were lying on the floor.<br />
A young journalist, a friend <strong>of</strong> ours, came <strong>and</strong> asked me <strong>to</strong> follow him <strong>to</strong><br />
the place, <strong>and</strong> we smelled the smoke <strong>and</strong> burned meat. I always remember<br />
this smell. I was sad, but I was holding back <strong>and</strong> did not show emotions;<br />
at the time I felt strong <strong>and</strong> proud about that, thinking: “Whatever<br />
they do, we keep on fighting”.<br />
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