“Rage, Rage, Rage!”
More great kids’ TV from Hamas. This one is about an American Palestinian kid whose eyes get opened on a trip to the old country. It’s kind of like an episode of Farouk, Achmed and Ali, only a lot longer, a little more didactic. With computer-generated animation, without pratfalls. Hey, I wonder where I can get a cheap computer-generated animation program and start knocking out the Farouk, Achmed and Ali episodes, sell them to Hamas TV. Could be good.
Back to “The Martyr of the World, Mohammed al-Durra.” I like this part, after Omar’s been through a lot of heavy radicalizing experiences:
Amjad: “What’s wrong, Omar? You look scared. Are you afraid that you will end up like one of the children of Palestine who were martyred defending the Al-Aqsa Mosque?”
Omar: “No, but I’m comparing between what is happening here to the children of Palestine and between the rights American children enjoy. Would you believe, Amjad, that before I came here, my cat got stuck in the elevator because of the power outage. Then, a fire engine, an ambulance, dozens of policemen and paramedics, doctors and cameramen – all came to save the cat’s life, and protect its health and mental state. The lives of people, children, and animals are very important in America and they must be protected. So how come children are killed here in scores with no mercy? Do you know, my friend, that when I was in America I was thinking only of myself. But now, I see I have a duty towards the children of Palestine. I will join you now in confronting the soldiers, and in America, I have a computer connected to the internet. I will tell the whole world what is going on in Palestine. Trust me, cousin, I will tell the whole world what is happening to the sons of Palestine.”
Amjad: “Do you still think you came at an inappropriate time?”
Omar: “I came at a very appropriate time. Now, I understand the meaning of occupation, of Intifada, and the meaning of participation of children in the defense of the homeland. Only now do I understand how the martyrdom of a child moves my conscience and the conscience of the whole world.”
As inspiring as this is, Omar clearly got the wrong message: A society that encourages children to die meaninglessly is a society that is very disturbed. A society that dispatches police, firefighters and paramedics to rescue a cat from an elevator and see to its psychological well-being is a society whose police, firefighters and paramedics aren’t busy throwing people off rooftops, firing missiles at their neighbors, or executing rivals in hospital wards, and also appears to have the expectation that its elevators will work. The cat obsession is a little ridiculous, but suggests a very high standard of living. Omar should get the heck out of Society No. 1 and get back to Society No. 2.
Omar has of course developed other priorities. To take him and us, the viewers, to that point, the story takes Omar through a number of rather predictable scenarios.
Omar: “What’s going on here? Why are those soldiers shooting at those guys? I’m afraid that one of them might get hit.”
Taxi driver: “This is the Intifada, the Al-Aqsa Intifada. These guys are waging resistance against the occupation. Haven’t you been following the news?”
Omar: “What news? I’m here as a tourist. What kind of welcome is this?”
Taxi driver: “A tourist? The situation here is very tense, may Allah help us. Where’d you say you’re from again, kid?”
Omar: “America. New York. … I hope that everything will be okay. Everything is strange. What is going on here?”
Taxi driver: “New York? No kidding. I have a cousin in Cincinnati! Maybe you know him? Mohammed. He has a gas station. I would like to go work for him and get out of this hellhole, but because of my history as a social worker for Hamas, I can’t get a visa!”
Omar: “Social worker! That must have been very interesting. What did you do?”
Taxi driver: “Mainly settlement work. Firing missiles at Zionist ones. But I was briefly involved in working with the mentally handicapped. I helped them get jobs.”
Omar: “That is so wonderful. You must have a great deal of patience.”
Taxi driver: “I’ll say. It’s hard enough getting those retards into a martyrdom vest, let alone getting them to set off the bomb at the right time.”
OK, I made that part up. But I didn’t make this up:
Chorus in the background: “Rage, rage, rage, rage, rage – and it explodes. Rage, rage, rage, rage, rage – and it explodes. The rage explodes and it hurls stones Come back, Omar (Ibn Al-Khattab) Come back, Sallah (Al-Din al-Ayubi). We are believers and we will not be humiliated. We are believers and we will not be humiliated. Our country will never be a playing field. You have buried our past and burnt our sun. You have buried our past and burnt our sun. Know, our sun, that victory is coming.”
Anyway, the vid’s here. Some pretty decent inspirational Arab tunes, if you go for that kind of thing. The little intifada scene at the beginning is worth checking out though the rest runs on a bit. Here’s MEMRI’s excerpted translation:
Narrator: “We continue to march with little Amjad. We continue to march with little Amjad.”
Children singing in the background: “We are not afraid of the soldiers, we are all steadfast. We are not afraid of the soldiers; we are all steadfast in this land… in this land… We demand our right, and we carry our school bags, We demand our right, and we carry our school bags. On our way we take the risk, and hide stones next to notebooks.”
Girl child singing in background: “My little brothers, how long will we continue to let the occupier us by hunger and siege?”
Chorus: “By hunger and by siege…”
Girl: “By killing and destruction…”
Chorus: “No to the oppression and to the occupation, oh child killer. No to the oppression and to the occupation, oh child killer. The army of immorality will not defeat the stone. The army of immorality will not defeat the stone no matter how much you shoot.”
Girl singing in the background: “We will continue to follow the footsteps of the martyr. In the battlefield of freedom, our determination is strong and resolute. By hatred and harm, the tragedy will be buried.”
Chorus: “Don’t kill the innocence of children, oh invaders.”
Girl singing in the background: “By hatred and harm, the tragedy will be buried.”
Chorus: “Don’t kill the innocence of children, oh invaders.”
Girl singing in the background: “Don’t kill the innocence of children, oh invaders.”
Chorus: “Don’t kill the innocence of children, oh invaders.”
Chorus and girl singing: “Don’t kill the innocence of children, oh invaders. But you are evil.”
[…]
Boy playing on computer: “Hello, yes, hi Dad. What are you saying, father? You bought me a ticket to Jerusalem? Great! Great! Mama, my father bought me tickets to Jerusalem next Thursday. Mama, I can visit my cousin Amjad. Get my clothes ready, mother. Quickly, get my clothes ready. I can’t believe it.”
Mother: “Fine, my son, I will pack your bag. I will take it out from the storage in the garage. I am happy for you Omar. I hope that you have a nice vacation. I hope that you have a pleasant, useful stay with your cousin.”
[…]
Boy on the plane: “It is so beautiful. I really like traveling.”
[…]
Girl singing in the background: “‘Who are these… Who are these?’ Why are there so many guards?”
Guard: “Hey kid, what’s your name?”
Omar: “I don’t understand.”
Guard: “What is your name?”
Omar: “Omar.”
Guard: “Your passport…”
Omar: “There you go…”
Guard: “Are you an American or an Arab?”
Omar: “American. I have an American passport.”
Guard: “Of course, American. Omar Mukhammad Akhmad. Who are you visiting? Do you have relatives here? Speak up.”
Omar: “I am visiting my uncle.”
Guard: “Is this your bag?”
Omar: “Yes.”
Guard: “Let’s see what you have in it. My dear American Omar… Who is this for?”
Omar: “Why did you take its head off? It’s just a toy. It’s a present to my little cousin. It is not right.”
Guard: (In Hebrew) “Go away.”
Omar: “What cruelty. I would like to go to this address. Do you know where it is?”
Taxi Driver: “Yes.”
Omar: “How strange? What is this? Did a war break out?”
Singing in the background: “Oh, the voice of pride within us, raise the banner of our lands. Oh, the voice of pride within us, raise the banner of our lands. With our bare hands and our stones we will protect the greenness of our fields.”
Omar: “What’s going on here? Why are those soldiers shooting at those guys? I’m afraid that one of them might get hit.”
Taxi driver: “This is the Intifada, the Al-Aqsa Intifada. These guys are waging resistance against the occupation. Haven’t you been following the news?”
Omar: “What news? I’m here as a tourist. What kind of welcome is this?”
Taxi driver: “A tourist? The situation here is very tense, may Allah help us.”
Omar: “I hope that everything will be okay. Everything is strange. What is going on here?”
Taxi driver: “We must stop it’s a regular thing.”
Israeli Guard: “Your ID card.”
Taxi driver: “Here you go.”
Omar: “What’s going on? Is there any problem?”
Taxi driver: “It’s a regular thing considering the siege. The occupation soldiers stop us dozens of times a day.”
Israeli Guard: “And you, where is your ID?”
Omar: “There you go.”
Israeli Guard: “American… He has an American passport. Move. Go away from here.”
Taxi Driver: “May Allah relieve us of them. It’s here. That’s the address. Pass through there, go to the right, until you reach the street that leads to Damascus Gate.”
Omar: “I’m supposed to get off here, and pass through the clashes? Impossible. I cannot walk between the bullets.”
Taxi Driver: “You will pass like everybody else. Or it is difficult for you?”
Omar: ‘Help me, I’m not from here. Please, help me.”
Taxi driver: “Okay, my son.”
Chorus in the background: “Rage, rage, rage, rage, rage – and it explodes. Rage, rage, rage, rage, rage – and it explodes. The rage explodes and it hurls stones Come back, Omar (Ibn Al-Khattab) Come back, Sallah (Al-Din al-Ayubi). We are believers and we will not be humiliated. We are believers and we will not be humiliated. Our country will never be a playing field. You have buried our past and burnt our sun. You have buried our past and burnt our sun. Know, our sun, that victory is coming.”
Taxi driver: “My God… Omar, come with me. Run… come on…”
Omar: “My God, what’s that?”
Taxi Driver: “Allah Akbar.”
Chorus in background: “Who are these? Why are they killing the innocent?”
Taxi Driver: “Help him guys.”
Chorus in the background: “Who are these? Why are they arresting the innocent? Who are these? Why are they oppressing the innocent?”
Omar: “Poor guy…”
Chorus in the background: “Who are these? Why are they terrorizing the innocent?”
Omar: “They gave him severe beatings. Why did they beat him?”
Taxi Driver: ‘They wanted to take him with them. To hell with them.”
Omar: “Why did they want to take him? What did he do?”
Taxi Driver: “These barbarians wanted to arrest him after beating him. Thank God, we saved him. Many young men are held in the occupation jails. May Allah bring about their release. This is the house.”
Omar: “The place seems quiet. Do you think they are at home?”
Taxi Driver: “God knows, let’s check.”
Omar’s Aunt: “Who is it at the door?”
Taxi Driver: “This boy came from America, and he says he is Amjad’s cousin. I came to help him find the address. Is this the right address, sister?”
Omar’s Aunt: “From America? Who? Is it Omar? Welcome…”
Taxi Driver: “Thank you, but where is Amjad?”
Omar’s Aunt: “With his friends at Al-Aqsa Mosque.”
Taxi Driver: “But it is not prayer time.”
Omar’s Aunt: “They went to prevent the occupation soldiers from entering the Al-Aqsa Mosque and desecrating it.”
Omar: “But we made plans to meet and travel together. How unfortunate. Does this mean I have to postpone my trip…”
Omar’s Aunt: “A touristic trip? If only. Things have changed, son. Who is it? My son? Oh my God…”
Omar: “What’s going on in this city? I can’t believe it.”
Omar’s Aunt: “Jihad, my dear son. What has happened to you? Answer me.”
Amjad: “Don’t worry, Mom. My brother is only lightly injured. Get him into the house. Who is this? Omar, my cousin, I can’t believe it. Why did you come here on this day? Welcome, you have come at the right time.”
Omar: “You consider this a proper welcome?”
Amjad: “Let’s go, we have a lot to talk about.”
[…]
Amjad: “This is the best time for me to tell you about Jerusalem.”
Omar: “What about your wounded brother? Where are the ambulance and the doctor?”
Amjad: “Don’t worry. These are not serious injuries. We are used to this.”
Omar’s Aunt: “I apologize for this welcome, but the occupation soldiers entered the Al-Aqsa Mosque, and this heated the situation.”
Omar: “They mercilessly kill the children and the elderly, and arrest the young men.”
Omar’s Aunt: “Allah be praised, this is our lot. We must wage resistance against the occupation until it leaves.”
Omar: “So we cannot carry out the trip we planned?”
Amjad: “When things calm down, we will go on our trip as planned. You will visit Nablus, Ramallah, Gaza, and all the other Palestinian cities.”
[…]
Chorus in the background: “Oh heaven on earth, when will we return? Oh heaven on earth, when will we return?”
[…]
Amjad: “Come on, cousin. Don’t be so lazy. Didn’t we agree on visiting the Al-Aqsa Mosque?”
Omar: “I should go there with you? What, now?”
Amjad: “Yes, now. We will go and fill the Al-Aqsa Mosque with our very bodies, so the soldiers won’t be able to enter again.”
Amjad’s Brother: “I wish I could go with you. Be well.”
Omar’s Aunt: “Take care of him, Amjad. It’s the first time he’s going to the Al-Aqsa Mosque.”
Chorus in the background: “Our sad Jerusalem, don’t shed tears. At night, oh imprisoned one, don’t extinguish the candles. I long to see you in order to meet your God. My hope to sacrifice myself for you is burning within me.”
Amjad: “You see, Omar. This is the Dome of the Rock. This is, of course, the first of the two Qiblas, the Al-Aqsa Mosque.”
Chorus in the background: “I long to worship in prayer. Our beloved Jerusalem our imprisoned land. Soon, the masses will march again. Our beloved Jerusalem our imprisoned land. Soon, the masses will march again.”
Omar: “My God, I’m afraid. What is this?”
Amjad: “Omar, give me your hand and don’t be afraid. Try to get close to this pillar. Come on, get up.”
Omar: “I’m afraid. I don’t want to stay here. I want to go away.”
Amjad: “Grab my hand.”
Omar: “I want to go back home, back to America. I’m an American. I have an American passport. I want to go back, I want to go back.”
Amjad: “Don’t worry, Omar. You are an Arab, even if you have an American passport. You are a Muslim Arab. Even if you get wounded, or, God forbid, killed, you will die as a martyr for the sake of Allah.”
Omar: “But I don’t want to die away from my family. I never imagined all this would happen in Palestine.”
Amjad: “Don’t worry, we will get back home soon.”
Girls singing in the background: “Don’t be sad, Jerusalem. Tomorrow the sun will rise.”
Omar’s Aunt: “That’s our reality. Since I was born, we’ve been defending this land, our homes, and our mosques. The occupation is abominable, my sons. We must wage resistance against it with all our might. We must sacrifice everything that is dear to us, until we regain our country. We believe that, like the Prophet Muhammad told us, this is the land of mobilization. We will continue to defend the Prophet’s first qibla and the place of his ascension until we liberate it from the Jews, the murderers of the prophets and messengers.”
[…]
Omar: “I’m so happy. Finally, we are going on our trip, beginning with this cave.”
Amjad: “This is not just any cave.”
Omar: “What do you mean?”
Amjad: “Wait and see.”
Omar: “What is this?”
Amjad: “These are children who were martyred during the blessed Al-Aqsa Intifada. I and a group of friends have cleaned this cave to make it fitting for the Intifada’s child martyrs. Here, we honor the memory of the martyrs in our own way. All these children sacrificed (their lives) for the sake of Allah, in order to liberate their country. The homes of some were toppled on top of them when they were asleep, and others were martyred when they faced tanks with stones. Each martyr has a story of his own.”
Omar: “All these children were martyred during the Intifada? My God.”
Amjad: “Yes, my friend. The Zionist enemy is merciless, and does not distinguish between old people and children.”
Omar: “My God, this picture is so vivid. Who is this martyr?”
Amjad: “He is the martyr Muhammad Al-Durra, who gained the honor of martyrdom last month, in full view of the entire world. Some journalist risked his life in order to film his martyrdom. This is why we called him ‘the Martyr of the World.’”
Omar: “Would you tell me the story of his martyrdom?”
Amjad: “Muhammad Al-Durra lived with his family in the Al-Bureij refugee camp in Gaza, just like all the other refugee families that had moved to camps within the homeland.”
[…]
Muhammad: “My God, who killed it? Every day we eat rice with lentils?! Didn’t you promise to buy us fish today?”
Muhammad’s mother: “I went to buy fish, but the market was closed. All the stores were shut.”
Muhammad: “I saw lots of youth marching in demonstrations in the main streets.’
Muhammad’s mother: “These are demonstrations to protest against the occupation soldiers who entered and desecrated the Al-Aqsa Mosque in Jerusalem.”
Abu Muhammad: “The Intifada is everywhere – in Jerusalem and in many of the Arab cities in Palestine. The Jews desecrated the Al-Aqsa Mosque by entering it. So the youth, tehe elderly, and the children rose to defend their Al-Aqsa Mosque. They faced the bullets of the occupation soldiers with their bodies. Many innocent martyrs have fallen.”
Neighbor #1: “Abu Muhammad…Abu Muhmmad…The Jews want to demolish the house of Abu Ismail, may Allah thwart them…”
Soldier: “In 10 minutes we will demolish this house. Evacuate the place quickly.”
Neighbor #2: “Be patient, Abu Ismail. Come on guys, help your brother.”
[…]
Muhammad’s mother: “How many times have I told you, my dear, to stay away from the clashes when you go to and from school? The Jews show no mercy to any adult or child.”
Muhammad: “Father, my little sister should not go to school. The road is not safe.”
Abu Muhammad: “Is it conceivable for us to keep your sister out of school? Life in our city must continue despite all the troubles. We pray to Allah for relief and for a victory soon.”
[…]
Muhammad: “I don’t like those occupiers.”
[…]
Muhammad: “No…”
Abu Muhammad: “In the name of Allah, the Compassionate, the Merciful. Calm down, Muhammad. You have a fever. Try to sleep. I will take you to the doctor tomorrow.”
[…]
Abu Muhammad: “Allah be praised, you look better. Muhammad, come, my dear. You murderers…”
Girls singing in the background: “Our martyr, Al-Durra. We long for martyrdom. Our martyr, Al-Durra. We long for martyrdom. Our country is free and our death is happiness. Our martyr, Al-Durra. We long for martyrdom.”
[…]
Amjad: “What’s wrong, Omar? You look scared. Are you afraid that you will end up like one of the children of Palestine who were martyred defending the Al-Aqsa Mosque?”
Omar: “No, but I’m comparing between what is happening here to the children of Palestine and between the rights American children enjoy. Would you believe, Amjad, that before I came here, my cat got stuck in the elevator because of the power outage. Then, a fire engine, an ambulance, dozens of policemen and paramedics, doctors and cameramen – all came to save the cat’s life, and protect its health and mental state. The lives of people, children, and animals are very important in America and they must be protected. So how come children are killed here in scores with no mercy? Do you know, my friend, that when I was in America I was thinking only of myself. But now, I see I have a duty towards the children of Palestine. I will join you now in confronting the soldiers, and in America, I have a computer connected to the internet. I will tell the whole world what is going on in Palestine. Trust me, cousin, I will tell the whole world what is happening to the sons of Palestine.”
Amjad: “Do you still think you came at an inappropriate time?”
Omar: “I came at a very appropriate time. Now, I understand the meaning of occupation, of Intifada, and the meaning of participation of children in the defense of the homeland. Only now do I understand how the martyrdom of a child moves my conscience and the conscience of the whole world.”
[…]
Omar: “Mother, tell me. Is what I am doing sufficient to participate in the defense of Palestine?”
Omar’s mother: “It is enough.”
Omar: “It may be sufficient for now, as you say, but…”
Topics: media, Palestinians
Posted by Jules Crittenden at 11:42 pm on Monday, October 15, 2007
3 Responses to ““Rage, Rage, Rage!””
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October 16th, 2007 at 1:08 am
It is easy to see who are the true child-killers. Evil. And so crudely done. Who pays for it?
October 16th, 2007 at 11:02 am
Saltydog:
We might be through US AID.
October 16th, 2007 at 11:17 am
Palestinian culture is pathological. There’s no other way to describe it.