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In The Face of Lifelong Terror, Gaza Speaks Truth To Power

A Palestinian asks how many deaths will be enough

I1985, when I was a first-grader, I was awakened by a hustle and bustle of noise downstairs.

  • Refaat Alareer
  • In These Times

It was pitch dark. I could hear my mom sobbing. There were women comforting her. I had never heard Mom weep before.

When I snuck downstairs to see what was going on, I found that my dad’s old mahogany Peugeot 404 had its front and rear windshields shattered, the passenger door was wide open and blood was all over the place.

My father had been coming back home that night from work, and it was his business partner’s turn to drive.

As they passed the Nahal Oz military crossing from Israel into the…

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