My dear friends, my HUMAN friends, I’m asking you to listen to two people: Kay Wilson, an Israeli Jewish survivor of a brutal terror attack, and me, Muawia Kabha.
Both of us lay in this pool of blood of unnecessary hatred and believe me, it’s not worth it !!! Not for us, not for them, not for you. We are doomed and damned if we do not bury the hatred, because right now this hatred is burying us!
As someone who’s seen so much death in his life, as someone who’s seen so much dying, as someone who’s had so many people die in his hands, I’m begging you: ENOUGH ! ENOUGH ! ENOUGH !
I cannot get this scene out of my mind: THAT Friday night, exactly four years ago, when I entered the home of the Fogel family.
You go into the first room and see death. You enter the second room and see more death. The third room – even more death.
You stand silently, pause and then this question pops up in your brain, a question that I’m still contemplating about to this day: Can angels die?
And the answer is yes. The hatred kills everybody. The hatred kills both the body and soul.
My dear friends, Perhaps I’m hallucinating so help me out here: Why is it that whenever I hug my little girl, my precious angel, I keep seeing the father of the Fogel family, Udi, hugging HIS baby, in his bed, and both of them are dead?
Is this right? Is this fair? Is this the way it should be? Help me out here.
So please, I’m asking, humans: You almost killed Kay Wilson’s body and damaged her soul and you ruined my soul as well. Enough !!! This world does not need more damaged people like us.
Let people live in peace. Let fathers and mothers live with their kids and enjoy them. Let them hug their children and think of hope, not death (unlike me).
One last thing, my dear friends: On that Friday evening, when I got out of the Fogel family’s home, choking on my tears, my eyes met those of a little girl, who still hadn’t yet had her Bat Mitzva (not even 12 years old). And from her penetrating gaze, filled with shock and disbelief, I understood that she was the eldest daughter, the eldest sibling of the family.
To this day, my mind refuses to forget that gaze. It’s engraved in my brain wherever I go.
My eyes were telling her: I’m sorry, my little girl, I’m sorry, my little angel. Life is cursed. Life is not fair. Hatred is stronger than us and you’re paying its price. Hatred has just caused you to continue life without your mom and dad, without a brother, another brother and a sister.
My, oh my — we can’t let this girl walk through life without ever finding hope.
I would like to ask anyone who reads these words and can help me meet this girl: I need this for my soul, I need some sort of a closure in order to be able to tell her all the things I couldn’t four years ago.
Please share these words so that I may be able to meet the Fogel family’s eldest daughter, to apologize to her for not being able to save her family.
