Being A Mom

I followed a Global Voices link to a cool idea. A mother in Canada proposed asking women all over the world to write about what they like or don't like about being a mom. I need a life-affirming task right now and think I want to play. Granted, as a mom, I'm sort of a retiree, but only sort of. My kids are in their mid-twenties, have careers of their own and live on another continent, but that's my family and in fact it's been like that from Day One, though at first it was the kids and me on one continent and my husband on the other.

When I was in grad school I was buddies with a clinical grad student for a lot of departmental activities. Someone somewhere figured out that we could be counted on to help out with almost anything. Her nickname was Doc and mine was Mom. I was a few years older than most of the students, but unmarried and certainly not a mom. I did, however, really, really want to have kids someday and finally achieving a son and a daughter thrilled me to death. I was lucky enough to be able to afford to be a full-time mom since my husband traveled so much, but there were things that I loved and things that I definitely did not love.

Loves:

Watching my kids expand and explore their world, that light going on when they suddenly figure out a new idea and share it.

Bedtime stories. I got to read a lot of good literature over the years.

The odd sms appearing out of the blue on my phone to tell me that everything is fine and I'm loved.

Baking Christmas cookies that manage to get red, green and white frosting ALL over the kitchen.

The Muppet Show...it didn't count in their TV allotment when they were little because we all loved it.

The fact that you never really get to stop being a mom.




Not Loves:

Those late, late nights with a sick kid when all your eyes want to do is close.

Having to accept the fact that there are days when they just aren't going to like you.

Trying to get them to clean their own rooms...finally gave up and made a deal that I wouldn't criticise but I wouldn't help them find anything either.

Taking a deep breath and stilling the panic in the heart when something goes wrong...even when it's homework that was "forgotten" the night before. Sometimes it is their problem, not mine.

Not giving advice when I'd so like to do so but recognise that sometimes kids have to figure it out for themselves.

The fact that you never really get to stop being a mom.

copyright 2009 Maryanne Stroud Gabbani

Having To Say Good-bye

I've known Omar Abdel Salam for over fifteen years. He's still a young man, about 45 years old, father of a number of children, the youngest of whom is about eleven. Happily, all the older ones are married, many of them with young children of their own. When I first met him, he was a groom at Sakkara Country Club, one of the best. But he wanted more from his life and as our ancient farrier at the Club was losing his sight, Omar convinced Am Yaseen to take him on as an apprentice blacksmith. It wasn't the optimal arrangement since Yaseen was in his late 80's and almost blind, but Omar learned all that he could from the old man.

A while later, an American farrier came to do some work at the breeding farms and a group of us arranged for Omar to work with her to learn more about his craft. He was less than thrilled at the idea but watching Sara turn an iron bar into a perfect eggbar shoe in about 15 minutes convinced him that she had something to teach him. In the following years, Omar took on two apprentices, one of his sons and another young man, and he taught them much of what he knew, having realised from his own experience that waiting until he was too old wasn't a good plan for anyone.

Omar and his boys have been taking care of my horses' feet for about 10 years now and he's more than just my farrier. Omar is a friend, someone whose company I always looked forward to when it came time to shoe and trim my horses. Sara still comes occasionally and she always makes it a point to bring something interesting in terms of tools for Omar. Farriers' tools are not in plentiful supply here and for the past few years he's been working against a tool account with me. I keep track of his tab and order rasps, cutters, nippers and so on for him and his boys.

The last time Omar came to me in February he was complaining of dizziness that was driving him nuts. He'd been to doctors who had been treating him for an inner ear infection, but he was still dizzy. He had Shaban do most of the trimming and nailing of shoes, but when we needed to shape a new horseshoe, he got out his anvil, seated himself in front of it and set to work. He was going to see a neurologist the next day, having felt that he'd exhausted the ear possibilities. The next thing I heard was that Omar was in the hospital. When his son and Shaban came to do my horses just recently, they told me that he was diagnosed with brain cancer. The doctors had done a biopsy removing part of one tumor that was pressing on the nerves that were making him dizzy, but there were five more that they couldn't really touch as they were mixed up with his optical nerves and other rather important items. Damn.

I went to visit Omar today. He's been released from hospital and is back at home in the midst of his family, but has been going into the hospital for radiation therapy, I believe. My Arabic vocabulary gets a little shaky in these technical things. His wife told me that there are two more sessions and then they will do an MRI to compare it with the earlier one. My father died of brain cancer and I remember all too well the progression of his illness. My bet is that Omar will not be with us much longer. He seems at least twenty years older than he was last month and he tires easily, has trouble speaking and his eyes don't track very well. This is a very aggressive cancer, something that his son confirms to me. His family asked what they could do, would there be medications abroad that might help him. I had to say that I thought that it was most important to keep him happy, comfortable, and as pain-free as possible. The doctors have told them the same. My friends and neighbours who are all his clients have all sent word that if the family needs any help they are just to say so and we will be there in force. If only we could just bring Omar back.
copyright 2009 Maryanne Stroud Gabbani

The View From The Top Of The Hill

I enjoyed my 60th birthday a week or so ago and today is my blog's 6th birthday. I don't know if blogs use dog years or something else, but six years isn't such a bad lifespan for a blog. The birthday would have been more fun if I hadn't had knee surgery less than a week before necessitating a day in a chair or on crutches. My idea of a perfect 60th birthday would surely have begun with a long ride in the desert and the countryside with my sidekick Dory (who is a young 23 herself), but that was not to be. Realising that I was not going to be in the best shape, I sent out an email inviting everyone to the farm on Friday March 13 for an open house/barbecue with a potluck menu. Guests began arriving around 11 am and wandered in until about 6 pm, by which time the birthday girl was ready to relax and put her feet up on the sofa.

We had a lovely array of people on hand, some of my steady clients, old friends from 20 years ago when we lived in Alexandria, neighbours, some high school students who had been guests here at their Week Without Walls visit, every age, though I think I had it on everyone in that category. The relaxing thing about a gathering at the farm is that the entertainment is provided by our denizens. I had the grooms tack up a couple of the horses to give pony rides to youngsters, one of the high school kids decided to try riding our donkey George, and plenty of people had a great time cuddling the goat kids. My staff manned the barbecue and grilled all sorts of things for visitors and then had to find space for the various sweets and cakes. It was a most satisfying birthday.

When my calendar reminded me this morning that it was my blog's 6th birthday, I got to thinking in general about birthdays and their meaning. I remember waiting excitedly for my birthday with its attendant festivities when I was young...somehow the anticipation decreased as I grew older. Turning 30 was a milestone for me much as it probably was for many other young women. For myself, it was the signal that no matter what I was doing as a grad student, it was time to reassess things because I'd decided (why I can't recall) that at 30 it was time to finish school. Oddly enough, I did just that.

Turning 40 is a milestone for most of us, especially women. Until you are forty, you are still a "young woman" but somehow at forty, one becomes simply a woman, a mature woman. Hmm, scary thought. What was I doing at forty? I'd just moved to Egypt and my darling husband decided to celebrate this birthday by getting me a hot new car so that I could drive my kids to school in Alexandria listening to The Police at mind-boggling decibels with the sunroof open. This was a man who knew what a forty year old housewife needed. At the same time this decade also demanded some evaluation of where my life was going. While at 30 I'd decided that I'd given enough of my life to education, at 40 I found myself wondering if I was using that education, a graduate degree in social psychology, wisely. Examining my current life, what was I doing? I was a mother, a housewife...for this I spent about 8 years in university? On the other hand, as I reflected I realised that my educational background was an enormous assistance in my efforts to help my family maintain an even keel in this cultural sea that we were sailing. All my studies on language development, ethics, my classes on communications and conflict resolution...it all fed into my efforts to help my children find their way as multicultural citizens. Talking to other women friends, I've found that sometime around 39/40 a major sense of dissatisfaction or questioning set in and most of us took some time to decide how happy we were with our lives. I'm sure that this process took its toll on our husbands.

By the time I turned 50, we'd moved to Cairo. My children were now teenagers in high school. With them very occupied by studies, theatre, sports, art, drama and their own social lives and my husband totally engulfed with his own career and factory building program, I'd found myself with some time on my hands. I'd been teaching at the American school as a substitute for a few years and also working with a close friend writing and editing for a monthly magazine. I also had become intrigued with a rather unusual equestrian sport, endurance riding, that involved hours of riding conditioning one's horse for competitive sport that involved many miles in a single competition. The sport didn't exist in Egypt, but that didn't really bother me. I was trying to understand the principles of conditioning nevertheless. I had an independent income from my work, a hobby, and a happy busy family...life was looking pretty good. I was amazed to find that at 50 I had so much more energy than I felt that I'd had at any time in my life. A couple of my friends had found turning 50 pretty traumatic. Let's face it, at 50 one becomes a middle-aged woman. Gravity begins having its way with the body, those interesting hormonal changes give the word "warmth" a new meaning...a lot of the physical aspects are not that terrific to be sure. But at the same time, I was feeling a new sureness in myself, a new comfort, and an interest in exploring new horizons.

A year later my feet were utterly knocked out from under me when my husband died in a totally unexpected accident, but the energy that I'd felt earlier certainly came in handy. The last decade was not my best in terms of enjoyment, but I have to say that it definitely taught me a lot. I've learned what I can and can't do, to trust my gut feelings, and that no matter how horrible things may be, they usually won't kill you unfortunately.

And since the conventional wisdom is that turning 60 is the sign that you are over the hill, how's the view from the top? Pretty damn good, even if the knees are exactly up to par anymore. I don't have the energy that I had at 30, 40, or 50. That's too bad but I can live with it. I've done a good job of teaching my horses to be nice to old ladies and novice riders, so I figure that I'm probably good for another 20 years of riding, even if my orthopedic surgeon thinks I'm certifiable. I look in the mirror and don't really recognise the physical individual that looks back at me sometimes but I suspect that I have a lot of company there. I have enough plans and possibilities to keep me busy for at least two lifetimes and I have enough friends to give me the energy and support to try to do at least some of them. Egypt is a good place to be an old lady, I always tell people. The culture instills a respect for old women such that most of us with enough nerve can get away with murder. Hopefully it won't come to that.
copyright 2009 Maryanne Stroud Gabbani

Calling Out

One of the things that I miss the most when I travel is the call to prayer that I hear five times a day here. After over twenty years of marking the days I find that, like the villagers around me, I have begun to tell time by the call to prayer. Due to the advent of electronics, the times of prayer have had their problems. I recall our first rented house in Alexandria that turned into a tunnel of sound every Friday. My dear husband had rented it before we arrived and he hadn't checked to see that there was a small mosque next to each of the four walls of the garden so we got the full benefit of the calls to prayer and during the Friday sermons the cacophony was unbearable as each sheikh vied with the other to make himself heard over the loudspeakers. Luckily, we were usually out on Friday afternoons.

The next house that we rented had a major mosque only a few blocks away and not too many rivals nearby. The three years we spent there were a joy as the muezzin (the man who called out for the prayers) had a marvelous voice and it was a real pleasure to hear. Lately, as the article from the New York Times (that you can reach if you click the title here) mentions the government has decided that the way to eliminate the competing mosques is to broadcast the call to prayer from a central location and eliminate the local muezzins.

The play produced in Germany about the muezzins talks about this rather unknown job and the men who do it. It certainly isn't a path to fame and fortune, but a good muezzin is worth his weight in gold, in my humble opinion, having lived near a great one for three years. I'd much rather see the government ban the loudspeakers on the mosques and take the entire experience back to a more personal one. When the power happens to fail at the time of the call to prayer and you hear the intermingling of the various voices in the neighbourhood without the dubious benefit of loudspeakers, it is a lovely event.
copyright 2009 Maryanne Stroud Gabbani

A Spot of Politics

I have a quick scan each morning of the online papers that mention Egypt, Giza, and Cairo just to see what's being covered and every so often something strikes my fancy. This morning Andrew Sullivan wrote about Egypt's military importance to the US:

"1) Egypt controls the Suez Canal, which makes it considerably easier to control traffic of ships between the Red Sea and Mediterranean and was crucial for the buildup in both US-led Iraq wars; 2) Egypt is a key counter-terrorism ally and played a major role in the Clinton-Bush rendition program; 3) Egyptian air bases play an important logistical role in the ongoing occupation of Iraq; 4) Egypt has played a crucial diplomatic role supporting US efforts in various recent regional crises. If anything, Washington is getting a great bargain for its $1.3bn a year, and those who are paying the real price are the Egyptian people who are seeing the Mubarak dictatorship maintained by America.

Finally, the military aid program to Egypt is also a subsidy for the US defense industry and a mechanism to grease the palms of the corrupt Egyptian military establishment, whose senior officers get kickbacks on the weapons deals."

My late husband used AID funding to help to purchase equipment for some of his companies and I'm always astonished at how little the American people understand about how this works. In the first place, most AID funding is in the form of low-interest loans that must be used to purchase US-made goods. No one is GIVEN anything. If you qualify, you can get better interest rates for the purchase of equipment or whatever, but the money must be spent in the US. This is of enormous benefit to the US producers who might otherwise not be picked to supply the equipment. When Egypt is given aid to buy military equipment, the same stricture holds true. The equipment, the maintenance, and the training all come from the US, providing employment and sales for US suppliers. Whether the aid comes in the form of low interest loans or outright gift, I don't know in the case of military aid, but people should understand that this "assistance" is not without its payoffs for the giver as well as the receiver.



copyright 2009 Maryanne Stroud Gabbani

Circumnavigation

I've had visitors this winter, as I do most winters, and we've had some unseasonably warm clear days to explore the Cairo area. Of course, one of the required visits is to the Giza plateau and on one of my visits there I took a series of photos as we walked around the Great Pyramid so that I could share the experience. The imagination soars with the mention of the Pyramids of Giza and most people who haven't visited Egypt visualise three lonely silhouettes in the desert against a blue sky, a view of them that must be achieved from a distance. The reality of the pyramids is quite different, a reality that some people find disappointing but one that I find never fails to engage me.

To approach the Giza plateau, one drives up an asphalt road from Pyramids Road dodging young men who run out into the road to try to convince the drivers of incoming cars that the ONLY way to see the pyramids is by following them to an area below the plateau where visitors will be mounted on camels, horses, or carriages (sometimes at great expense if the touts are lucky) in the stables opposite the Mena House Hotel and transported up the hill. Their claims are utter rubbish and it is quite possible, and in my mind preferable, to drive up to the entrance, buy tickets for the visitors and the car and then drive on in. There is a parking lot that overlooks the camel stables opposite the Mena House which provides a good spot from which to foray out to explore the pyramids.

As we walk across the stone to the Great Pyramid on a Friday morning, the sheer size of the pyramid never fails to strike. From a distance tiny figures gather along the eastern face of Khufu's pyramid facing the Nile Valley, crawling part way up the stones...as we approach it becomes clear that these are people who are climbing the staircase that has been cut into the enormous stones so that they might enter the tiny cramped passage that leads up to the chamber in the center with the enormous sarcophagus. The impressive weight of the stones, the size of each one, the effort that must have been expended to pile all of them up, is stupifying...but still the passages are extremely uncomfortable and visits inside pyramids are highly overrated in my mind.

As we make our way along the face, we pass Egyptian families out for a day in the open air. Fathers photograph offspring with mobile phone cameras while mothers sit comfortably on the lowest layer of stones dispensing sandwiches and chips. The children are all over the place. Most families in Cairo live in apartments, so to be out in this much space with virtually nothing breakable at hand induces a state of exhilaration in the younger set that is only matched perhaps by watching a set of goat kids bouncing madly around ricocheting off each other and any other object in their immediate vicinity.

As we round the southern side of the pyramid we find ourselves in the area where iron railings protect some of the more active albeit less observant of the young visitors from pitching headlong into the pits that once held the solar boats, beautiful graceful craft made of Lebanese cedar and held together with palm fiber rope. The best preserved of these is in the Solar Boat Museum on the western side of the pyramid, an odd rather banana-shaped structure that provides a climate controlled environment to preserve the reconstructed boat.

The new regulations restrict the camel and horse men who offer the services of their sometimes rather dubious mounts to the south side of the Great Pyramid, the area around the parking lot by the middle pyramid, and the panoramic view point out in the desert where it is still possible to photograph the pyramids in their lonely majesty. After glancing around quickly to determine that a collision with one of the plateau's four footed denizens was not imminent, we had to look up and admire the view of the stones reaching up into the sky. We are so physically lazy in our lives now that it seems quite impossible that these massive boulders should have been moved simply by muscle power, but in those days there were four months during the summer when most of the population of Egypt was available for labour such as this while they waited for the Nile flood to recede. Four months is a long time to go fishing and it makes the concept of the masses of labourers much more understandable.

Rounding the southwest corner of the pyramid we could see the middle pyramid with its limestone sheath still intact at the tip and the oddly shaped Solar Boat Museum next to our pyramid. The middle pyramid always looks larger than the Great Pyramid but this apparently is because it is built on a higher platform of rock. Just before the museum a pair of female visitors were debating with some camel handlers for a ride. As we wandered past we were regaled with squeals and laughter as they experienced the seesaw action of a camel rising to its feet and starting off.

As we headed back towards the parking lot along the north face of the pyramid, we were reminded of the winter winds that we had avoided on the west face. Other visitors were coming towards us with pauses for photographs as they wandered along. At Giza, photographing photographers is inevitable. Some young men tried to look tough and strong while surreptitiously zipping up jackets against the chill of the wind whenever the sun crept behind a cloud, and later we assisted a pair of newlyweds from the Delta with a photo on a mobile phone against the background of the middle pyramid of Khafre.

As we approached our starting point on the east face of Khufu's pyramid, we noticed that the crowds were getting thicker as more and more visitors arrived. Some of them were visiting the nobles' tombs at the northeastern corner while others were making their ways in carriages, on foot, on horseback or camelback towards the smaller pyramids or the panoramic view point out in the desert.

Once back on the eastern face of the pyramid we wandered over to admire the view over the valley. My friend had last been in Cairo in 1971 and remembered how the area before the Giza plateau had been green fields. Now it is so built up as to be unrecognisable to early visitors, but the pollution had been blown away by the winds and we had a clear view of the Citadel across the valley. When we turned to the pyramid again and saw it as a backdrop to the cars in the parking lot, we were definitely brought back to reality and present day.
copyright 2009 Maryanne Stroud Gabbani

Very Bad Math

Following the news on Gaza has been disturbing. The Gazan death toll has been rising steadily but while there have been some reports of rocket attacks, reports of Israeli deaths have been lacking. The one report I could find regarding the Israeli deaths reported 12 deaths as of a week ago. One would imagine that the Israelis were suffering under heavy attack to justify the killing of so many in Gaza.
ًًً
This was passed to me by a friend and is from Al Jazeera's English edition:


"At least 300 children are among the more than 1,000 Palestinians who have died since Israel began to bombard the Gaza Strip on December 27.
Al Jazeera has obtained the names of 210 of the young victims, 44 of whom were under five years old. (The names are given and then the gender and the age.)

27/12/2008
Ibtihal Kechko Girl age 10
Ahmed Riad Mohammed Al-Sinwar Boy age 3
Ahmed Al-Homs Boy age 18
Ahmed Rasmi Abu Jazar Boy age 16
Ahmed Sameeh Al-Halabi Boy age 18
Tamer Hassan Al-Akhrass Boy age 5
Hassan Ali Al-Akhrass Boy age 3
Haneen Wael Mohammed Daban Girl age 15
Khaled Sami Al-Astal Boy age 15
Talaat Mokhless Bassal Boy age 18
Aaed Imad Kheera Boy age 14
Abdullah Al-Rayess Boy age 17
Odai Hakeem Al-Mansi Boy age 4
Allam Nehrou Idriss Boy age 18
Ali Marwan Abu Rabih Boy age 18
Anan Saber Atiyah Boy age 13
Camelia Al-Bardini Girl age 10
Lama Talal Hamdan Girl age 10
Mohammed Jaber Howeij Boy age 17
Nimr Mustafa Amoom Boy age 10

29/12/2008
Ismail Talal Hamdan Boy age 10
Ahmed Ziad Al-Absi Boy age 14
Ahmed Youssef Khello Boy age 18
Ikram Anwar Baaloosha Girl age 14
Tahrier Anwar Baaloosha Girl age 17
Jihad Saleh Ghobn Boy age 10
Jawaher Anwar Baaloosha Girl age 8
Dina Anwar Baaloosha Girl age 7
Samar Anwar Baaloosha Girl age 6
Shady Youssef Ghobn Boy age 12
Sudqi Ziad Al-Absi Boy age 3
Imad Nabeel Abou Khater Boy age 16
Lina Anwar Baaloosha Girl age 7
Mohammed Basseel Madi Boy age 17
Mohammed Jalal Abou Tair Boy age 18
Mohammed Ziad Al-Absi Boy age 14
Mahmoud Nabeel Ghabayen Boy age 15
Moaz Yasser Abou Tair Boy age 6
Wissam Akram Eid Girl age 14

30/12/2008
Haya Talal Hamdan Girl age 8

31/12/2008
Ahmed Kanouh Boy age 10
Ameen Al-Zarbatlee Boy age 10
Mohammed Nafez Mohaissen Boy age 10
Mustafa Abou Ghanimah Boy age 16
Yehya Awnee Mohaissen Boy age 10
Ossman Bin Zaid Nizar Rayyan Boy age 3
Assaad Nizar Rayyan Boy age 2
Moaz-Uldeen Allah Al-Nasla Boy age 5
Aya Nizar Rayyan Girl age 12
Halima Nizar Rayyan Girl age 5
Reem Nizar Rayyan Boy age 4
Aicha Nizar Rayyan Girl age 3
Abdul Rahman Nizar Rayyan Boy age 6
Abdul Qader Nizar Rayyan Boy age 12
Oyoon Jihad Al-Nasla Girl age 16
Mahmoud Mustafa Ashour Boy age 13
Maryam Nizar Rayyan Girl age 5

01/01/2009
Hamada Ibrahim Mousabbah Boy age 10
Zeinab Nizar Rayyan Girl age 12
Sujud Mahmoud Al-Derdesawi Girl age 10
Abdul Sattar Waleed Al-Astal Boy age 12
Abed Rabbo Iyyad Abed Rabbo Al-Astal Boy age 10
Ghassan Nizar Rayyan Boy age 15
Christine Wadih El-Turk Boy age 6
Mohammed Mousabbah Boy age 14
Mohammed Iyad Abed Rabbo Al-Astal Boy age 13
Mahmoud Samsoom Boy age 16
Ahmed Tobail Boy age 16
Ahmed Sameeh Al-Kafarneh Boy age 17
Hassan Hejjo Boy age 14
Rajeh Ziadeh Boy age 18
Shareef Abdul Mota Armeelat Boy age 15
Mohammed Moussa Al-Silawi Boy age 10
Mahmoud Majed Mahmoud Abou Nahel Boy age 16
Mohannad Al-Tatnaneeh Boy age 18
Hani Mohammed Al-Silawi Boy age 10

01/01/2009
Ahmed Al-Meshharawi Boy age 16
Ahmed Khodair Sobaih Boy age 17
Ahmed Sameeh Al-Kafarneh Boy age 18
Asraa Kossai Al-Habash Girl age 10
Assad Khaled Al-Meshharawi Boy age 17
Asmaa Ibrahim Afana Girl age 12
Ismail Abdullah Abou Sneima Boy age 4
Akram Ziad Al-Nemr Boy age 18
Aya Ziad Al-Nemr Girl age 8
Ahmed Mohammed Al-Adham Boy age 1
Akram Ziad Al-Nemr Boy age 13
Hamza Zuhair Tantish Boy age 12
Khalil Mohammed Mokdad Boy age 18
Ruba Mohammed Fadl Abou-Rass Girl age 13
Ziad Mohammed Salma Abou Sneima Boy age 9
Shaza Al-Abed Al-Habash Girl age 16
Abed Ziad Al-Nemr Boy age 12
Attia Rushdi Al-Khawli Boy age 16
Luay Yahya Abou Haleema Boy age 17
Mohammed Akram Abou Harbeed Boy age 18
Mohammed Abed Berbekh Boy age 18
Mohammed Faraj Hassouna Boy age 16
Mahmoud Khalil Al-Mashharawi Boy age 12
Mahmoud Zahir Tantish Boy age 17
Mahmoud Sami Assliya Boy age 3
Moussa Youssef Berbekh Boy age 16
Wi'am Jamal Al-Kafarneh Girl age 2
Wadih Ayman Omar Boy age 4
Youssef Abed Berbekh Boy age 10

05/01/2009
Ibrahim Rouhee Akl Boy age 17
Ibrahim Abdullah Merjan Boy age 13
Ahmed Attiyah Al-Semouni Boy age 4
Aya Youssef Al-Defdah Girl age 13
Aya Al-Sersawi Girl age 5
Ahmed Amer Abou Eisha Boy age 5
Ameen Attiyah Al-Semouni Boy age 4
Hazem Alewa Boy age 8
Khalil Mohammed Helless Boy age 12
Diana Mosbah Saad Girl age 17
Raya Al-Sersawi Girl age 5
Rahma Mohammed Al-Semouni Girl age 18
Ramadan Ali Felfel Boy age 14
Rahaf Ahmed Saeed Al-Azaar Girl age 4
Shahad Mohammed Hijjih Girl age 3
Arafat Mohammed Abdul Dayem Boy age 10
Omar Mahmoud Al-Baradei Boy age 12
Ghaydaa Amer Abou Eisha Girl age 6
Fathiyya Ayman Al-Dabari Girl age 4
Faraj Ammar Al-Helou Boy age 2
Moumen Alewah Boy age 9
Moumen Mahmoud Talal Alaw Boy age 10
Mohammed Amer Abu Eisha Boy age 8
Mahmoud Mohammed Abu Kamar Boy age 15
Marwan Hein Kodeih Girl age 6
Montasser Alewah Boy age 12
Naji Nidal Al-Hamlawi Boy age 16
Nada Redwan Mardi Girl age 5
Hanadi Bassem Khaleefa Girl age 13

06/01/2009
Ibrahim Ahmed Maarouf Boy age 14
Ahmed Shaher Khodeir Boy age 14
Ismail Adnan Hweilah Boy age 15
Aseel Moeen Deeb Boy age 17
Adam Mamoun Al-Kurdee Boy age 3
Alaa Iyad Al-Daya Girl age 8
Areej Mohammed Al-Daya Girl age 3 months
Amani Mohammed Al-Daya Girl age 4
Baraa Ramez Al-Daya Girl age 2
Bilal Hamza Obaid Boy age 15
Thaer Shaker Karmout Boy age 17
Hozaifa Jihad Al-Kahloot Boy age 17
Khitam Iyad Al-Daya Girl age 9
Rafik Abdul Basset Al-Khodari Boy age 15
Raneen Abdullah saleh Girl age 12
Zakariya Yahya Al-Taweel Boy age 5
Sahar Hatem Dawood Girl age 10
Salsabeel Ramez Al-Daya Girl age 6 months
Sharafuldeen Iyad Al-Daya Boy age 7
Doha Mohammed Al-Daya Girl age 5
Ahed Iyad Kodas Boy age 15
Abdullah Mohammed Abdullah Boy age 10
Issam Sameer Deeb Boy age 12
Alaa Ismail Ismail Boy age 18
Ali Iyad Al-Daya Boy age 10
Imad Abu Askar Boy age 18
Filasteen Al-Daya Girl age 5
Kamar Mohammed Al-Daya Boy age 3
Lina Abdul Menem Hassan Girl age 10
Unidentified Boy age 9
Unidentified Boy age 15
Mohammed Iyad Al-Daya Boy age 6
Mohammed Bassem Shakoura Boy age 10
Mohammed Bassem Eid Boy age 18
Mohammed Deeb Boy age 17
Mohammed Eid Boy age 18
Mustafa Moeen Deeb Boy age 12
Noor Moeen Deeb Boy age 2
Youssef Saad Al-Kahloot Boy age 17
Youssef Mohammed Al-Daya Boy age 1

07/01/2009
Ibrahim Kamal Awaja Boy age 9
Ahmed Jaber Howeij Boy age 7
Ahmed Fawzi Labad Boy age 18
Ayman Al-Bayed Boy age 16
Amal Khaled Abed Rabbo Girl age 3
Toufic Khaled Al-Khahloot Boy age 10
Habeeb Khaled Al-Khahloot Boy age 12
Houssam Raed Sobeh Boy age 12
Hassan Rateb Semaan Boy age 18
Hassan Ata Hassan Azzam Boy age 2
Redwan Mohammed Ashoor Boy age 10
Suad Khaled Abed Rabbo Girl age 6
Samar Khaled Abed Rabbo Girl age 2
Abdul Rahman Mohammmed Ashoor Boy age 12
Fareed Ata Hassan Azzam Boy age 13
Mohammed Khaled Al-Kahloot Boy age 15
Mohammed Samir Hijji Boy age 16
Mohammed Fareed Al-Maasawabi Boy age 16
Mohammed Moeen Deeb Boy age 17
Mohammed Nasseem Salama Saba Boy age 16
Mahmoud Hameed Boy age 17
Hamam Issa Boy age 1

08/01/2009
Anas Arif Abou Baraka Boy age 7
Ibrahim Akram Abou Dakkka Boy age 12
Ibrahim Moeen Jiha Boy age 15
Baraa Iyad Shalha Girl age 6
Basma Yasser Al-Jeblawi Girl age 5
Shahd Saad Abou Haleema Girl age 15
Azmi Diab Boy age 16
Mohammed Akram Abou Dakka Boy age 14
Mohammed Hikmat Abou Haleema Boy age 17
Ibrahim Moeen Jiha Boy age 15
Matar Saad Abou Haleema Boy age 17

09/01/2009
Ahmed Ibrahim Abou Kleik Boy age 17
Ismail Ayman Yasseen Boy age 18
Alaa Ahmed Jaber Girl age 11
Baha-Uldeen Fayez Salha Girl age 5
Rana Fayez Salha Girl age 12
Rola Fayez Salha Girl age 13
Diyaa-Uldeen Fayez Salah Boy age 14
Ghanima Sultan Halawa Girl age 11
Fatima Raed Jadullah Girl age 10
Mohammed Atef Abou Al-Hussna Boy age 15

It took me a few hours to get all of these names into a format for the blog.
These names are only some of the children who have died in Gaza through no fault of their own. At least do take the time to read them and recognise their lives.




copyright 2009 Maryanne Stroud Gabbani