This is a story never reported in any media. That of the ones being attacked. The attackers, however, have no problem getting their story into the media,
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Imagine what it is like….
to be stabbed. Most of you probably can’t.
I can. Because I have. 13 times. With a machete.
Firstly, the word
“stabbed” does not do the experience justice. In Hebrew it is even worse,
because “stabbed” is the same word לדקור that one uses when being “pricked” by a
needle.
Let’s start with what it
feels like. In my case, it felt like a hot poker being bored into my flesh and
each time he tugged out the serrated knife, I had the sensation that my bare
skin was being raked over with razors. Maybe it would be easier for you to
understand if I said it was a pain that felt like my finger nails were being
ripped off, over and over again.
Then there is the
adrenalin. This makes a body tremble, yet conversely it makes it heavy. It’s
rather like the moment when we only just escape being in a car wreck or the
sensation you feel when you are looking down from the edge of a cliff. It’s
like that. Your stomach turns and your blood drains from your head. It feels
like this is happening, over and over again.
When the “stabbing” is
over, there is the cold, the biting cold – due to shock. I remember even the
warm December sun felt like ice on my flesh. Every “stabbing” survivor will
have felt the cold of death.
Then there is the
beating. He was hitting, smashing, pummeling, thumping me so hard. He broke
over 30 bones. Many “stabbing” survivors have broken bones because of the force
with which the attacker plunges the knife into their prey.
Then there are the
visuals. In my case, I watched for half an hour two sadistic men, (who were
once little boys) waving their machetes in the air, teasing us by putting it
across their own throats. I remember the sun glinting off the knife, sparkling,
flashing in the forest. I remember his dark eyes, dead eyes, indifferent with
the sheer boredom of the up-and-coming execution of two innocent, defenseless
women. Most of the recent victims did not face their attackers for half and
hour, but even a second is enough – seeing that madness on their face, seeing
that knife coming towards them – it’s enough; believe me, it’s enough. And
watching someone being murdered, is a “sacred” experience, in the sense that
you are seeing something that we were not born to see. This is the hardest
emotion to even begin to describe. It will take me the rest of my life to
articulate what it does to a person.
Then there is the taste.
A dry mouth: an instant reaction that comes with shock. In my case when he
knocked me to the ground, I landed on my face so there was blood in my mouth.
There was also bile – one often throws up under extreme fear. I can guarantee
that the “stabbing” survivors all had a dry mouth and some may have tasted
bile.
Then there are the
sounds: I heard my bones crunch. I heard my flesh rip. I heard him grunt and
pant as he tried to beat me to death and hack me up with his meat cleaver. I
heard them scream Allah HuAkbar, I heard myself say “Shema Israel,” and I heard
my Christian friend whimper “Jesus help me.” It is terrible to be so helpless
and hear someone you love, pray, scream and beg for their lives. It is a
terrible thing to hear yourself do the same. Many of the latest “stabbing”
survivors have also had the horror of helplessly watching those that they love
be murdered in front of their eyes. Many have experienced the loss of
self-dignity that comes with begging for your life.
There is more to being
“stabbed” than meets the eye. I am sharing what it is like, not to invoke
sympathy for myself, but rather arouse compassion and a desire to help the
growing, daily number of Jewish people who are experiencing to some degree what
I did. These are people whose lives will never be the same again, no matter how
lightly, moderately or seriously wounded they are.
This is terrorism.
And this, for the
survivor, is only the beginning…..
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