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Gheula Canarutto Nemni

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Letter of a baby killed by the silence of the world

Bye Mum,

Shalom Dad,

I have seen you only for a few instants but my time has arrived.

I love you so much, I cannot believe I will never see you again.

I was  ready to come to the world in two months, I was already imagining how I would taste my mother’s milk, I was wondering how it feels to open your eyes and find out what is around.

But none of these things will never happen in my life.

I felt the shootings going through the womb, I heard the screams of fear and terror through the amniotic liquid and I understood that something was wrong.

My hearbeat that until that moment was beating at a perfect rythm, started slowing down.

I am not able to explain why everything happened, why a man, whom I have never seen before, wanted to shoot my mum and me.

I heard people saying that all this happened because we were waiting for the bus on a disputed piece of land, that the cause that moves these murderous hands lies in the land itself.

Eighty years ago when this land was only sand, babies, infants and children who did not have time to learn how to talk and walk, were brought to the slaughter house with the same charge: Jude.

Bye grandma and grandpa,

it was an honor to be part of a family that teaches to love while our enemies go on inciting to kill.

Though I was born on the seventh month of pregnancy, though I could breath only for a few days, I can affirm with no doubts that the content of Universal Declaration of Human Rights about the right for life, freedom and safety, is not universally true.

It is not true that every child has the right to a home, a mother and father.

It’s a lie. The world does not try hard to protect every child from cruelty as the U.N Declaration on Youth Rights states.

People who were raised in hate and intolerance made me leave this world with a name, Amiad Yisrael, a name that was never called but only engraved on my gravestone.

The book of my life was closed by democratic societies and mass media that consider the death of a Jew on his land less worthy of the death of other men.

 

My dear love,

let me kiss for the last time the shroud that wraps your tiny life.

Let me say goodbye to your tiny hand and foot, to you heart that bumped inside my body for the last seven months.

Ask in Heaven why all this is happening to us. And please don’t move until you don’t get an answer.

You have been a child for a few instants before the hate of men transformed you in an angel.

Send me a kiss, my little love, a big kiss like that one I would have asked you in a few months if the incitement to violence, if the education to death, did not tear your soul away from me and from this world.

Gheula Canarutto NemniSchermata 2018-12-13 alle 12.39.29

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Why Condé Nast and Vogue do not respect Jews

An open letter to Robert A. Sauerberg, president and CEO of Condé Nast.

On October 4, 2018, Vogue Arabia published a letter by Ahed Tamimi, the Palestinian teenager who is becoming an icon, despite the culture she represents.

My name is Raya Schijveschuurder. Today I would be 31 years old.

I would be probably married and I would have my own children.

They would be the same age of my little brothers who were 2 and 4 years old when they were killed together with my parents and me, inside a pizza store in Jerusalem, seventeen years ago.

We were a happy family until 2 pm of August 9th 2001. We were eight children, four girls and four boys, the perfect balance. My parents were still young, 43 and 41 years old.

But that day we were hungry.

And we wished for a pizza and some Coke.

And my parents decided to take us to Sbarro, one of the most famous pizza stores of Jerusalem.

I chose a pizza with mushroom and olives topping.

And my mother asked me: are you sure you will like it?

These were the last words I heard from her.

A few minutes Ahlam Tamimi brought Izzadin al Masri until the entrance of Sbarro.

Tamimi knew perfectly the store would be packed at that hour. She had been studying that place for a long time.

Al Masri had a guitar with him, but from that guitar no music note would have been played.

As he entered the store that guitar played a death music, throwing 20 pounds of nails, screws and explosives in men, women and children bodies.

We have just washed our hands as Jews use to do before eating the bread.

But I never ate that pizza.

I was blown up and killed by nails that pierced my heart, my liver, my vital organs.

In a few seconds my parents, my brothers, Shoshana Greenbaum, a pregnant woman, other ten people and me, were transformed in shreds of meat.

My grandparents were Dutch.

During the war they were deported from Holland to concentration camps.

They survived to all their families and tried to build a normal life in that same country that offered them death.

They pushed their children to go and live in Israel, the only place in the world where Jews would never be discriminated for their religion.

My parents tried to build a new life in that tiny country.

But Ahlam Tamimi decided that even there Jews do not have the right to live.

When they announced in the radio there had been a martyrdom attack at the Sbarro restaurant and that three people were killed, I admit I was a little bit disappointed because I had hoped for a larger toll’, she tells in an interview.

‘Have you ever thought about the families, the children, who were victims of this attack?’ Tamimi smiles ‘No’.

Ahed Tamimi, the seventeen years old teenager who became the symbol of ‘Palestinian resistance’ was brought up in these values. Ahlam Tamimi is her aunt. Her family was defined by international media as an ‘activist family’

Vogue Arabia, a magazine that belongs to Conde Nast group, has just published Ahed Tamimi letter.

In this letter Tamimi writes: I wanted to become a football player but I don’t play here because there is no time. Instead, I have been involved in demonstrations and confrontations with the Israeli army since I was a child.

 

I went on Conde Nast code of Ethics, where you can find the following words:

Reaching more than 270 million consumers across Europe, the Middle East, Asia and Latin America, we are committed to delivering beautiful, influential content and brand experiences for individuals who demand to be inspired.

And I asked myself:

Does Conde Nast think Ahed Tamimi words should inspire  its readers?

Does Conde Nast agree that children, instead of becoming football players, should be raised in the dream to become martyrs one day?

“I hope that everyone will take part in the demonstrations as this is the only means to achieve the result. Whether it is stabbings or martyrdom operations or throwing stones, everyone must do his part and we must unite in order for our message to be heard that we want to liberate Palestine”

These are the words that Tamimi says on Facebook to her followers. 

We pride ourselves in respecting the individual no matter what gender, race, religion or orientation. We are committed to doing business in an ethical way, with honesty, integrity and humanity.

This is the message you can find on Conde Nast website.

Dear Conde Nast, mr. Robert A. Sauerberg,

you have proved to be committed to doing business.

But with this article that celebrates a teenager who was raised in death and martyrdom values, a girl whose aunt helped killing more than 15 human beings guilty of being Jews, you have not only lost many Jewish readers..

You have lost your commitment to integrity and humanity.

Gheula Canarutto Nemni

Why the world is so afraid to use the word ‘terrorist’

Why the world is so afraid to use the word ‘terrorist’

By Gheula Canarutto Nemni

Dear world, did you really think pedestrians would be over run by cars only in Jerusalem’s streets?

Did you really hope knives would strike only those who walk on disputed sidewalks?

Dear world do you realize you let yourself be deceived by media headlines and geopolitical assumptions, which describe the Middle East as a very distant, universe?

You hid your head in the sand to avoid feeling the first signals of an internal war. You closed your eyes when faced with the 2017 Jewish European exodus, in front of the terror attacks that killed men, women and children at the Jewish school gates, at the cashiers of the Hyper Casher.

Europe was not born as a U.N resolution. It was not settled by nations which were coming back home. European legitimacy was never discussed by politicians, actors and boycott movements.

So why do car rampages and terror attacks happen in London, Nice, Paris, Berlin, and Bruxelles too?

Why does all this also happen so far from Israel?

What ideology do they share, those individuals who go around looking for a victim in Israeli streets and those who kill in front of the British Parliament?

Dear world, the time has come for you to open your eyes and understand who is standing in front of you. The time has come to wake up and shake yourself from your pacifist dullness nourished with free tolerance.

This is the only way you can say, one day, I really did something to save my children’s future.

They want to deprive you of those values you fought so hard for. They are using your efforts for integration to bring you towards disintegration.

They hate your culture, your democracy. They hate your dances, your music, your diversity.

Dear world, the time has come to be brave and define that person who runs into a crowd of people who are watching the fireworks on the Boulevard des Anglais as a terrorist. The individual who runs with his car into people who are looking for a Christmas present in Berlin is a terrorist.

They are not drunk, they are not lonely wolves. They don’t suffer from depression or behaviour issues. They are terrorists who are killing innocent people whether on British, French, German or Jewish soil.

They are not only fighting to bring the borders back to before ’67. They don’t want only a part of Israeli territory. They want all Israel. And Europe. They want the whole world.

Truth, honesty and consistency are powerful weapons. Please world, start to use them before it is too late.

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Dear Pope Francis, desperation has never been a justification for Jews

We have been brought through Rome’s streets in chains while our Sanctuary in Jerusalem was burning in flames. We have been thrown in amphitheaters where hungry lions and spectators were waiting for our blood.
We have been burnt in autodafé, we have been called marranos, our candle lighting and prayers in our ancestors’ language were banned.

We have been sent away from Spain. We have been wandering around through countries looking for a new home.

We have been massacred in pogroms, our synagogues destroyed, our children enlisted in armies from which they never came back.

We have been deprived of our right to work, to own, to vote, to speak. We have been robbed of that dignity which every human being should enjoy by right when he was born. Our golden teeth were torn from our mouths and our arms were branded as if we were animals in the slaughterhouse.

We have been told for centuries ‘go back to your homeland’ and now that we are home they tell us ‘get away from there’.

We, Jews, are an indissoluble part of the historical fabric of our world.

The Jewish presence is the common denominator in most of the atlas.

In every place on the earth where we had arrived, we generated poets, matematicians, physicists, writers, polticians, scientists, doctors, inventors.

Even when we have been closed in ghettos we have never stopped writing, thinking, discussing, producing good.

We have never put our lives in standby, not even for a little while.

We did not cover our heads with ashes for thousands of years.

We have been sent away, we have been robbed, we have been deprived, massacred and killed.

We loaded up our destiny on our shoulders and our ancestors’ heritage in our hearts and we went to search for a new place where we could start breathing again.

There is neither time nor will to cry for yourself, if you have been taught that every instant on this earth is the biggest richness you own, and that life is the most precious gift you received when you were born.

And there is no space for resentment.

We went back without our parents, our brothers, our children and wives to Germany, Italy and France. We stood under the windows of our homes looking at strangers living in places which belonged to us before the war.

We rolled up our sleeves, uncovering numbers stamped with fire on our arms, and we started everything again from scratch.

Countries interested in migration waves should study the Jewish history and our integration model.

Every new place where we arrived we had our golden rule.

Never slide on your tears.

We have not waited for compassion from the countries that opened their borders for us. Since the first instant we tried to integrate ourselves in the social fabric of the place which was hosting us. And while thanking them, we donated our talents to development and advancement. Ours and theirs.

There are those who use desperation as a justification for murdering innocents.

And there are those who put aside desperation, closing it in the memory drawer, and try to climb back to the top, concentrating on the new opportunities.

Dear Pope Francis, Hillary Clinton, John Kerry and hundreds of world influencers who are seeking for a reason, for a motif, behind the transformation of individuals into lethal splinters.

Even if you found out the personal, tragic life of these killers (though in most cases they have a life at a standard perfectly alligned to the society where they live), even if it was really like this, nothing, NOTHING, can justify a blind violence against another human being. Nothing, nothing, can give the right to an individual to deprive another of his tomorrow.

Looking for justifications means only one thing: Preparing the soil for the next brutal act, G-d forbids.

There has never been a nation mistreated by history more than the Jewish one.

But everywhere the hate wind has transported us, we integrated, we learned the local language, repeating by heart Whitman, Eliot and Dickinson, we invented the parve cheesecake. Integration is something you have to want and work on every single day. We have never asked the place which hosted us to adapt itself to our rules.

“Dina demalchuta dina, the law of the place must become your law too,” says the Talmud.

The real integration, even for the most desperate people, can be realized. But it depends on the first instance, on values transmitted by religion, families and teachers of those who have just arrived.

And it depends on the will to become part of the society in a constructive and positive way.

Gheula Canarutto Nemni

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