Qumsiyeh: A Human Rights Web

Hiam's story

Hiam before and after the Prosthetic eye

Hiam's first day in the US

Dear friends:

It was 5:15 AM Monday morning at Newark Airport when my son Dany and I had a glimpse of Hiam, her mother, and Aida (a travel  companion continuing on to Houston).  They were in the luggage area and I could see they are being delayed.  They had two pieces of small luggage and I thought they must have lost their luggage because of the length of the time they were at the counter.

Finally, they came out and my first reaction on seeing two girls each with a big white batch over their eyes is to lower my gaze. Introductions and the usual niceties followed some recompose.  Aida is 16 years old and is heading to Houston for follow-up treatment.  Hiam is 8 year old and was coming to Connecticut for initial treatment.

We learned that it was not the luggage delay but a language delay.  Only Aida speaks little English and this caused them significant delay inside the terminal. I left Hiam and her mother with Dany and took Aida to another terminal for her flight to Houston.  In the 15-20 minutes Aida talked along the way, she appeared intelligent and personable. She had intentionally let her hair dangle in front of her face on the left side, in what I thought was a futile attempt to cover the eye patch.
Wishing Aida good luck in her treatment, I went back to pick up Hiam, her mother, and Dany.

She cried when saying good-bye to Aida, they became close in the long 14 hour flight.  Both identifying with each other more than any of us can imagine.  After that separation, it was striking how close Hiam clung to her mother, terrified, and silent. Her mother trying to reassure her that this is for the best, that it is OK.  We had a 2 hour drive back home to New Haven so much information was exchanged with the mother. Attempted conversations with Hiam were not successful initially except when we crossed the Washington Bridge and pointing out the river and the boats, a traffic helicopter, and bridge structure.  A smile and very few words came unexpectedly and seemed to fade away quickly and back into silence in her mothers arms.

In these conversations with Um Yahya (the mother) in the car, I learned that she has 15 children, that Hiam was a twin (Abir was the name of her sister).  I learned that the father is now unemployed (Israeli blockades) and they depend on the goodness of others to survive.  I learned that the youngest are also twins 5 year old. I learned that Hiam lost her eye to an Israeli bullet when she was trying to head home and walking across another street that appeared quiet.  Two kids nearby, said that she rounded the corner towards her home when she collapsed and blood was shooting out of her eyes socket.  They called her mother who held her screaming.  Some young men arrived and snatched the girl from her arms and ran her to the hospital.

  I learned that this is not the first loss for this particular family. That a nephew was struck by a bullet in the head and went into deep coma.  He was later transported to Saudi Arabia but Um Yahya (his aunt) stated "haqiqatan shaheed maskeen" (= he is really an unfortunate martyr). I learned from Um Yahya that both sides of the family are refugees (the father's side from a village near Lydda and the mother's from near Ashdod).  I learned that while Um Yahya was born in the refugee camp, that her parents and others told them about the horrors of the Nakba (catastrophe of 1948) and how her husband's parents left under gunfire but also told them about the peaceful life they had in the old villages.

Um Yahya is a very religious women.  She puts her faith in God.  She says all of these things in a very matter-of-fact way.   But occasionally you glimpse a few tears that she tries to suppress. For the last 10 minutes of the drive, we are silent.

Calling Gaza to tell her family she arrived, Um Yahya talks and listens, then hands the phone to Hiam.  Hiam talks to her  father, the first I heard her say complete sentences, but suddenly she hands the phone to her mother and breaks into uncontrollable crying.

We make some food but they are both tired and only Um Yahya takes a few meager bites and they both retire to sleep for three hours.

Phone calls were made to confirm one appointment (Wednesday at Yale) and to schedule anther appointment (Friday at Marino Ocular Prosthetics).  Other phone calls were made including to staff at Palestine Children Relief Fund and to local activists who were eager to help.

In the evening dinner, Hiam ate better (she especially liked cashew nuts but hated potatoes) and we discussed the program for the next few days.  The community response in Connecticut (& even beyond, we told Hiam that she will also get to visit New York soon) was great and everyone wants to come and help.  This family is very grateful.

We are all grateful to Hiam for enriching our life and we will keep you informed.

Mazin B. Qumsiyeh, Ph.D.
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An eye for an eye: Hiam's story updated

Today was a momentous day for Hiam in New Haven.  She is finally finished with all medical check-ups and procedures and is scheduled to go back to Gaza soon.  She will be able to celebrate her 8th birthday next month with her 14 siblings and many friends.  She is laughing and wants to look at herself in the mirror a lot.  She even was joking that she can see through her  new prosthetic eye.  It has been an arduous journey filled with triumphs and tragedies and most of all with new experiences for a smart and very curious little girl as well as all who came to know her.   Hiam weathered it all and she has grown significantly from the frightened little girl I first met almost three weeks ago. Maturing well beyond her age and adapting better than any of us have expected.    I would like to share with you this experience of Hiam.  What I describe, while uncomfortable, was not physically painful to Hiam.  However, you can skip this next paragraph of describing her experience and go to the third paragraph.

Our appointments were split between an ocularist in Wallingford (there are only a couple of hundred such guys that specialize in making prosthetic eyes in the US) and ophthalmologists at Yale. Hiam had already had surgery in Gaza to remove the eye, an operation that entails placing an implant and tying the muscles around this implant. The ophthalmologists checked her vision in the other eye and checked the implant which, while receding, appeared to be adequate.  They offered that maybe in two to three years, a new surgery would be needed to fix the implant.  The ocularist initial exam gave us the bad news that a conformer should have been placed in the eye to keep the empty socket from collapsing. This was not done and thus, we were delayed one week for adding this conformer and allowing the empty space to take shape.    This was not a painful procedure but a bit uncomfortable and Hiam seemed to handle it very well. The next Friday (March 2), we returned to do the mold for the eye (custom-shaped to the socket).  This time and for the last time in a procedure, both Hiam and her mother cried. The ocularist had to make the prosthetic in crude form and a much longer appointment was needed on Monday to do the fitting, the shaping of the outer size and the coloring.  Monday if you recall was the first day of the Eid Al-Adha, an important Islamic holiday.  I could not help but think of Muslim children celebrating throughout the world while Hiam (and all Palestinian children) have to endure pain and suffering.  Removing and inserting the prosthetic many times that day was a bit unnerving to Hiam.  The size of the artificial pupil was not quite right and it was adjusted slowly by removing some of the clear plastic in the front.  But this made the shape look flat.  Only Hiam seemed satisfied with the final "product." I guess she just wanted it over with and she saw it as a significant improvement over the patch.   The ocularist volunteered to try again and make a new eye and we were to return Thursday (today) for another long appointment beginning at noon.  In the morning, we stopped by the Yale eye center for a final check before we headed out to the ocularist.  Hiam was finally ready for the afternoon.  This time, things went smoothly and the new prosthetic eye is in place and we were out the door by 3:30 PM.  Both Hiam and her mother were thrilled.  At a friend's house we called Gaza and they spoke at length with their family.  It is difficult now to distinguish if the tears were of joy or of sadness.

Lest you think we spent all our time in clinics, rest assured that Hiam and her mother were kept busy in other ways.  The community of both Arabic speaking and non-Arabic speaking people rallied to this like no other cause in the community.   Adults provided hospitality, friendship, support, tours (even to New York), lots of gifts and even money. Children offered their usual unconditional love, playfulness, and even occasionally (miraculously?) some of their toys. This made Hiam feel at home even while being homesick. Almost every day or two, they met some new family or visited a new place. Middle Eastern restaurants refused to take money for the food when they ate outside. Who helped: Syrian American, Lebanese Americans, Palestinian Americans, non-Arab Americans, people of all religions and persuasions, students and busy families with lots of kids, total strangers who send in cards or a few gifts. But the family was most grateful for the real gift to Hiam: a new image of self-confidence and a big, tremendous smile today. Invariably, all involved indicated we are grateful to this family for enriching our own lives here in America.   In short, for us in Connecticut, Hiam was a breath of fresh air who touched the lives of so many and made us far better than we were three weeks ago.  None of us find it easy to say good-bye to the brave little girl who came across the ocean to get a new eye.  So we will say to her Sunday "Ila Alliqaa'" (till we meet again) and we WILL meet again.  Hiam now has a second home.  Next time, we hope she comes in far happier circumstances.

Let me give you my own reflections now including lessons I learned. I reflected that the bullet that hit Hiam was likely made in this country (as are most Israeli ammunition) and it was paid for by our tax dollars. Yale issued a press release and the media interviewed Hiam and her mother as well as the doctors.  I also reflected that even after specifically and repeatedly being asked about the circumstances of Hiam's injury (according to the mother on a quit street while walking with her mother to a friend's house), we were dismayed that some editors insisted on using words such as "caught in the crossfire." According to one reporter, someone "higher-up" wanted it this way (you wonder who).  But some reporters were brave to simply make no value judgment and let the story speak for itself.  It is also worth reflecting that Hiam is very lucky to be one of those selected by the Palestine Children's Relief Fund to come to the US. The ironies of this journey are not going to be forgotten.  But hundreds of Palestinian children are with various needs, medical or otherwise will go without.  The most recent brutality is a process of "Ghettoization": Israeli forces as we speak continue to dig trenches to completely encircle Palestinian towns and villages.    This blockage and siege prevents hundreds of thousands of Palestinians from traveling to work, schools, universities, shops, or houses of worship. It is intended as collective punishment to break the will of the Palestinians who have already suffered too much.  With Sharon in power, one wonders if he will outdo Barak's record of the past five months (420 Palestinians killed, 17,000 injured).  So who will be the next Hiam and what is she/he doing now in Gaza or the West Bank. Will they be killed, injured or starved. Maybe this brutality is calculated to make Hiam's family and all other refugees forget about going back to their villages from which they were expelled in 1948. Maybe we will see more widespread ethnic cleansing by this government that for the first time includes a cabinet minister who openly advocates expelling Palestinians.  These are not questions that Hiam and her mother are now worried about but we in America should be.  If the politics doesn't concern you, why not at least help one Palestinian family in need.*  The rewards can be immeasurable.  Today, our largest award is a big grin on a little girl's face and on the faces of all who met her.  Thank you Hiam.

Mazin Qumsiyeh, Ph.D.
3/8/01
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These Kids Need Help And Smiles
By AMY PAGNOZZI
The Hartford Courant, February 23, 2001

We'd expected she'd be frightened out of her wits.

It would have been natural. Most kids bawl at the sight of needles, never mind doctors and hospitals.

But 7 1/2-year-old Hiam gamely hopped up on the examining chair at Yale-New Haven Hospital - a gritty grin on her puss as Dr. Zachary G. Klett pushed and pulled the eyelid over her empty right socket.

The fresh pink flesh shining beneath his flashlight eased our fears, even before his words confirmed that the wound "has healed incredibly well."

"The surgeon did very good job," the doctor enthused.

Hiam's mother, Um Yahya, a stray tear betraying her resolute stoicism, untensed visibly, even though she and Hiam speak only Arabic.

Humans communicate with hearts as well as tongues. Better sometimes.

Klett's relief was palpable as he picked up a pamphlet, pointing out a diagram of a molar-tooth-shaped silicone implant he'd determined was already inside Hiam's socket.

The implant the surgeons at Nasser Hospital in Gaza had inserted kept the wound from turning into a tight scar that might have required more surgery before Hiam could have a prosthesis.

"It's amazing the hospital should have such supplies with the blockades in Israel," exclaimed Mazin Qumsiyeh, a Yale professor of genetics, who was translating a mile a minute into Arabic.

"Thank you for what you are doing for them," the doctor told Qumsiyeh, who smiled and shook his head. "To be able to do this is a blessing for me and my family," Qumsiyeh said.

His glee took me aback.

About two weeks ago, the professor was bereft when the village of Beit Sahur, which sits beside Bethlehem, was bombed again by Israeli forces.

It is the village where Qumsiyeh was born and where much of his family still lives. A bullet pierced a relative's window on Feb. 13, hitting his cousin in the shoulder.

Last weekend, Qumsiyeh was sadder still.

Some person unknown wrote to him expressing regret that his cousin had not been killed, wishing death upon all Palestinians, adding, "Your children are also good targets for Israeli sharpshooters, who need to practice their aim when firing specifically at the eyes and the knees."

It was some nut, obviously, purporting to be a member of the Jewish Defense League, a hate group that committed terrorist acts in the `80s.

The FBI is investigating the threat, which Qumsiyeh, who has a wife and son, took seriously.

But at the hospital on Wednesday, he said, "That's unimportant."

All that mattered was the dainty girl in the examining chair - a little girl who wouldn't be here had another stranger not also written to Qumsiyeh about the Palestine Children's Relief Fund in Kent, Ohio.  (http://www.wolfenet.com/{tilde}pcrf/ or 330-678-2645)

The relief fund is an American nonprofit organization, which arranged the financing for Hiam's medical care and transportation here.

Qumsiyeh and his family are providing a host home and getting Hiam and her mother to and from the doctors.

Since a writer covering the last Palestinian uprising in Jerusalem founded PCRF in 1989, it has provided specialized medical care otherwise unavailable to injured and sick kids, expanding to include children from Lebanon and other Mideast areas.

Hiam arrived here with her mom on Monday via Newark airport, traveling with a 16-year-old girl named Aida also sponsored by PCRF. Hiam and Aida each lost an eye in the occupied territories to a sniper's bullet. Aida caught a connecting flight to a hospital in Houston.

In Hiam's case, she was injured steps away from her family's home as she walked with her mother to visit a neighbor who was leaving for an Islamic pilgrimage.

We know such terrible things happen, but they are hard to envisage -harder when you meet one of these kids and she looks just like yours.

Apart from her eye patch, Hiam looked like your average Connecticut first-grader in her Pokemon sweat suit and sneakers. After she returned to consciousness at the hospital in Gaza, before the extent of her injury was known, her mother calmed her by telling her that however long she lived,
she'd surely go to heaven, being the good girl she is.

"Ever since, she talks about heaven as if it was her private party - who she's going to take with her and who isn't going to be invited," her mother said in Arabic, which Qumsiyeh translated.

Still pretty despite the deformity wrought upon her by this ugly war, Hiam is also a lucky child, who will be fitted this week for a prosthetic eye.

She'll obviously never see through it - but to others she'll look as she did before the bullet stole it from her on Dec. 30.

Better a child should be smiled upon than regarded with pity and averted gazes. More smiles are needed. And we all have one to offer, even if we can't all afford to make a donation or be a host.

Anyhow, I set up an e-mail account, beakidspal@hotmail.com where we could "meet." (That's the opposite of confidential). Maybe Muslims, Jews and Christians could hook up to help these kids and end up smiling at each other as well.

Who knows?

http://www.ctnow.com/scripts/editorial.dll?bfromind=1481&eeid=4054841&eetype=article&render=y&ck=&ver=2.5