The Children of Gaza
A Call to Grandmothers, Kuia, Abuelas, Crones, Tutus and Lolas: One Voice for the Children of Gaza
I chose to spend my day of rest facing the brutal reality for children in Gaza. I completed my yoga, meditation, prayers, and writing outside where a lotus has just bloomed in the pond by my house. The fish are fat and golden, playfully interacting with each other, secure that they will be fed regularly.
I ate a modest breakfast, attended to matters that demanded my attention and did some housework. Then I realized I was hungry, so I ate a nice lunch, after which I attended to some necessary research for the book I am writing, before I tackled what I had committed myself to: the children of Gaza.
Feeling the beauty around me, breathing in the soft, toxin free air, listening to the gurgling of the waterfall by one of the ponds, I took a deep breath. In all my comfort, knowing I had enough food and that I could choose what I wanted to eat, sitting in the peaceful natural environment that supports me to be my best self, in all of this privilege, during which I could select to open my eyes to the children of Gaza, there was yet no possibility of peace.
The unrelenting threats to children, the war that is stealing their childhood out from under them— every threat to them is a threat to me, despite the appearance of my ease and safety. In all my freedom to eat, to sit, to breathe the clean air, I could not avoid this horror. It was there in everything that I did to escape it.
That more than 14,000 innocent children have died in Gaza, and many more by the time you read this, threatens my life and your life. How can we live in our comfort knowing that with every cycle of breath , a child has been lost to traumatic repetition?
70% of those being massacred in Gaza are children and women. There is no justification for this excessive violence, despite the horrors of the attacks on Israelis on October 7. I say this as a Jewish woman and mother.
So-called world leadership seems puerile in their bickering and leveraging in the face of this barbarism, apartheid, and war crimes against defenseless, vulnerable people who are now starving. Gaza has been made into a death camp.
Searching desperately for some model of true leadership, I stumbled upon The Elders (www.theelders.org). Launched in 2007 by Nelson Mandela, The Elders are now led by Mary Robinson, the first woman President of Ireland who represents and champions ethical leadership and the innovative leadership of women.
Joined by a council of former world leaders like Graca Machel, Ellen Johnson Sirleaf and Hina Jilani, Mandela established a council of true leaders. At the inauguration of The Elders people like Archbishop Desmond Tutu and Jimmy Carter accompanied Mandela in addressing the African concept of Ubuntu, true compassionate action as a universal humanity.
Mandela identified The Elders not by age but by their embodiment of collective wisdom, without political preferences. “True Elders,” Mandela said, “Are free to follow paths they deem right even if they are unpopular.” He anointed The Elders to be a council to problem solve the crushing issues of our times through means of unification and non-competitive, long-range, socially just and equitable solutions. Mary Robinson, as President of The Elders, has gone on to identify women as the most prepared for this kind of leadership. On this basis, she has, on behalf of The Elders, called for a cease fire in Gaza, stating the wisdom of The Elders: “You have to make peace with your enemies.”
“This is an enormous task, “ Mandela declared when he created The Elders. “The only possible solutions to our existential crises are collaborative. It will seem impossible until it is done,” he concluded, reiterating one of his famous phrases of hope and inspiration.
I call on Crones, Kuia, Lolas, Abuelas, Grandmothers, Bubbes everywhere to reiterate the call for a cease fire in Gaza, and to speak loudly in whatever language, whether it be art, poetry, protest, dance or music, to forbid the loss of one more innocent life.
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The Shroud of the Miraculous
For the 14,000 Children Massacred in Gaza
It is made of finely woven linen
So that the soul’s breath of the dead
Is visible, to those who can see.
The shroud moves up and down
Like a cotton kaftan on a grieving woman,
Standing at the edge of the sea at sunset
On a summer night.
Silence fills the universe.
I am starving to hold these babies,
All 14,000 of them,
In my mother’s arms.
I know every one of their names.
As they saw the last explosion
Before the darkness,
So do my eyes burn with the
Acrid poison of their sentencing.
These are now the holy hours that have descended upon us.
Souls fall into the healing waters and then instantaneously
Rise up again,
Ascending momentarily like the green flash
Everyone wants to see.
Each one of these children is a relation to one of us,
So that all our family lines are now haunted.
We will never forget.
This vow is
Enshrined in our collective memory.
We live to redeem you,
You, the l4,000,
And all who come after you.
None are abandoned.
We are The Elders.
—Stephanie Mines
March 2024
“Something in your writing moves me toward activism. There seems to be an activist seed planted between the lines or perhaps between the words.”
~Cherionna Menzam-Sills, Author of Spirit Into Form