This is a story I got from a of a friend of mine accounting the experience of a professor of sociology at Birzeit University, Majdi al-Malki. The Interview was completed by mobile phone, under curfew by my friend in Ramallah - Rita.
Yehudith Harel

On Thursday March 30th, 2002, we left our house, located close to
the governorate of Ramallah at around 5 pm. We were expecting a
concentrated attack on President Arafat's compound. The
compound is barely a 100 meters away from our house. We
thought we had to leave our house to protect our children,
especially our eight year old child who terribly fears the awful
noises of war, as she had previously been sensitized to them. And
so we went to the center of town to my mother's, thinking it would
be safer.

At about 4.30 the next morning, Friday, we began to hear loud
explosions coming from the area of the President's compound. By
seven in the morning, we tried to call our neighbors, but the lines
were already cut. During the first 48 hours of this onslaught, we
could not reach anyone in our area at all.

On that Friday at around 2 p.m., Israeli tanks and armored vehicles
entered the middle of town, and the first battle in the downtown
area began to rage right by Rukab’s Icecream Parlor, that
landmark of Ramallah's downtown. It so happened that my
mother's house is located in the same building, on the third floor.
Suddenly, we found ourselves right in the middle of the battle that
we were trying to avoid by leaving our house. And so we hid in one
of the rooms that we thought was relatively safe. We heard many
explosions, and Dalia, our eight year old began to cry and cry and
cry. We held her and tried as you can imagine, to comfort her. This
lasted about half an hour. Once it quieted down, I took a look out
and discovered that shells had entered in shops and buildings right
around us.

When it quieted down, we thought that the battle was over. And so
I began to assure Dalia, and tell her that she would not go through
this again. By night-time, she discovered that our sitting area,
located right in the middle of all the rooms was the safest place, so
she decided to sleep there, and insisted that I sleep with her on the
floor, on a mattress. At about 2 am Saturday morning, once again,
we began to hear shelling and shooting even heavier than before. I
estimated that all this came from down below our house, but had
no idea where it was directed. Dalia of course woke up and sat on
my lap in great fear. After a long half hour of shelling, suddenly the
neon light fell, the house shook; it was as if we were in the midst of
an earthquake, glass broke, we had no idea where, it sounded like
everywhere, and Dalia was stunned with fear. Everyone else
crawled, including Reem, my one year old, into our hiding area.
This battle went on and on and on till 6 am in the morning. Those
were the longest 4 hours in Dalia's and certainly my life.

By 6 am, we began to hear loudspeakers calling on the Palestinian
fighters to surrender. And then it quieted down till 11 am, we just
heard the bad noises of tanks roaming around. Then our phone
rang. These were the neighbors, the only ones who remained in our
building. They told us that they had been held for two days in their
house, but all locked in one room, without access to phones or
people or anything, even the electricity was cut off. They also told
us that they were able to call us now because the army has left the
house and released them. They also told us that our house was
used during these two days as a dormitory by the Israeli army,
specifically, one of the Golani Brigades. Those that stayed in our
house were an unbelievable 70 soldiers in a space of about 200
meters. When the army left, our house was left in total disarray,
they had used everything as if they never saw homes before. We
were told that they even used the ordinary floors, carpeted, in lieu
of toilets.

My wife Nadia freaked out and began to cry. I did not what to do
nor what to think. But by then, battles started raging all over again
where we were, and we had to pay attention to our safety and
forget the disaster at our house for a while. And then, Dalia began
to throw up, and would no longer eat, and I began to seriously
worry about her health. I called friends and sought assistance via
ambulance for my child. It is a long story, but finally the ambulance
came, and we were taken to a safer place, my sister's house.
Once we got to what we thought was safety, Dalia began to cry,
and everyone else as well, old and young. Personally, I cried when
I stepped out and saw the destruction in the street. In the course of
this dangerous trip, we were able to carry with us bread for all
those on that other side who had none. Once people saw the
ambulance a large number from different homes all came out
calling on us to give them bread, some had not eaten for days.

Four days later, we were able to get back to our house, when the
curfew was lifted so that people could obtain basic provisions.
First, we were shocked by our stairs, so dirty, leftover food, leftover
urine, leftover everything. As we entered, the entire door was
broken and out of place completely. We went in, there was
unbelievable dirt around, all over, everything thrown to the floor. In
the bedroom, all was on the floor, and then we began to discover
what they had stolen: all my wife's gold, my children's jewelery,
even the little gold bracelets and ear-rings of our one year old
Reem that people usually give here at the birth of a girl ; They also
stole my sunglasses, my cell phone charger, there was no money
in the house that I left, but they had stolen our Dalia's pocket
money, around 50 shekels that were in her piggyback. They tore
the curtains. The kitchen utensils were on the floor, our provision,
like rice and lentils were on the floor, and the bathroom, I will not
speak about the bathroom. Even Dalia's storybooks and toys were
torn and on the floor. And they also tore out Dalia's drawing of
tanks as well as her notebook of stories. They even stepped on
and soiled Reem's bed covers for a reason I just cannot
understand. All the other neighbor's homes were destroyed in the
same way.

I just cannot understand. I can see that they wanted to use the
house to sleep and rest, but I cannot fathom why they would
destroy and steal this way. I feel bitter, very bitter.