Was left to bleed to death

Please take 10 minutes out of your time to watch this short interview clip of Amer Shurrab, who lost two of his brothers in the same day during the recent war on Gaza.

I’m not sure why the person who uploaded this video started off with that segment of it but here is what is missing from the video.

AMY GOODMAN: We return to a story we first heard yesterday on Democracy Now! It’s the heart-wrenching tale of Amer Shurrab. He lost two of his brothers on the same day in an Israeli attack in Gaza. Amer is a Palestinian from Khan Yunis living in the United States. He just graduated from Middlebury College in Vermont.

On Friday, his dad and two brothers were fleeing their village when their vehicle came under Israeli fire. His brother, twenty-eight-year-old Kassab, died in a hail of bullets trying to flee the vehicle. His other brother, eighteen years old, Ibrahim, survived the initial attack, but Israeli troops refused to allow an ambulance to reach him and his father until twenty hours later. By then, it was too late. Ibrahim had bled to death in front of his father.

Amer Shurrab joins us today again from Washington, D.C. to continue with the story he began yesterday. Juan and I welcome you to Democracy Now!, Amer.

AMER SHURRAB: I got the call from my big brother, who lives in Saudi Arabia. He watched my dad’s plea on air on Al Jazeera.

Amer’s father was trapped in between a car and an Israeli patrol while his son was bleeding to death no more than 1 km from a hospital.  The soldiers would not let them move, his father began calling everyone he knew who could help including friends and relatives outside Gaza.

AMER SHURRAB: Well, my dad was asking for help from everyone who could help. What I did with a group of friends, we started contacting everyone we could know who could—might be able to provide them help. I contacted the Seeds of Peace, whom I am a member of. I contacted Middlebury College. I contacted my host parents. I contacted the International Red Cross. I tried to contact the media, the BBC, the CNN. I contacted the Israeli journalist, Amira Hass. And I tried to get in touch with everyone I could think of.

And my network, we contacted my fellow UW—United World College students, who also tried to contact everyone they could think of who could influence the Israeli army or send the word out. Maybe it will influence the Israeli army, and they will allow help.

And throughout the night, we were in contact with Al-Haq, which is an NGO based in Ramallah, who were following the story. We were talking with a Middlebury alumni. She’s interning with Al-Haq, and she was following the story with us.

JUAN GONZALEZ: And from what you have heard from your family there, what kind of response from the pressure on the Israeli army or the Israeli government—what was the reaction of the Israeli army to all the people that were trying to contact them to let them let an ambulance get through?

AMER SHURRAB: Well, they didn’t get any positive response, and the army said, “We can’t. We have to fully explore the situation. We have to evaluate the situation and see how it will affect the operations in the area.” And at some point, they informed Physicians for Human Rights, another aid group that was contacting them, that there’s an explanation for not sending the ambulance, but they said they wouldn’t provide the explanation.

AMY GOODMAN: Amer, your father and brother Ibrahim are on one side of the road on one side of the car that was shot at, and Ibrahim is lying there, your father calling on the cell phone, trying to get help. On the other side of the car, the passenger side, was your other brother, Kassab, who had been shot dead at the beginning of this attack, Israeli forces from a house. Was your father able to get to his body just on the other side of the car?

AMER SHURRAB: He wasn’t able to get to his body until about seven hours later, because any—

AMY GOODMAN: What was stopping him?

AMER SHURRAB: If he tries to move, the troops would tell him, “Don’t move, or we are going to shoot you.” And if he actually attempts to move, they fire in the air or around him. But around 8:00 p.m. or so on Friday, he saw some cats, some wild cats, starting to circle around Kassab’s body, so he couldn’t take it anymore. And he moved the two or three feet that separated him from Kassab’s body just to make sure the cats wouldn’t get to his body.

JUAN GONZALEZ: But he wasn’t able to actually bring the body back to where he was or move it in any way.

AMER SHURRAB: No, all he could do is just turn him on his back and cover his face with his coat.

AMY GOODMAN: Amer, Ibrahim—tell us what was happening with him through the day, your eighteen-year-old brother, who your father was with. Where was he shot?

AMER SHURRAB: He was shot in his leg just under the knee. And while he was getting out of the car, upon the orders of the soldiers, he got shot, and he screamed, “I have been injured!” And he tried to call the ambulance, but the soldiers ordered him to drop the phone, or they would shoot him.

But they would allow my father to use a cell phone. My father tried to call the emergency number several times. And Ibrahim would tell him, every five minutes, “I’m hurt. I’m injured. I’m in pain. Call an ambulance.” And he was bleeding all the time. And after sunset, he started shivering and trembling, telling my dad he was cold.

And after my dad found out that Kassab was dead, Ibrahim asked my dad, “Were you pleased with him, Daddy?” And he said, “Yes, I’m pleased with him.” And then Ibrahim, around 9:00, Ibrahim told my dad he was still shivering from cold, and he told my dad, “I’m so cold.” So my dad told him, “OK, stand up, and I will help you to get in the car. Maybe it will be warmer there.”

So, as they stood up, the soldier said, “Don’t move, or we will shoot you.” But my dad screamed back. He was like, “You killed my son! If you want to shoot us, shoot us! I don’t care!” And he helped him into the car. He—my dad took off his coat and covered Ibrahim with it. And they had some laundry piled in the back of the car, so he covered Ibrahim with it, trying to—just trying to provide him with some warmth. And he asked him, “Ibrahim, are you warm?” He said, “I’m warm, Daddy, but I’m in pain. Call an ambulance. Call 101.” And he would repeat that every five minutes. “Call an ambulance. Call 101.”

And all that time, my dad was receiving calls from the media, from human rights groups, and he was repeating his appeal and telling them, “My son was killed, and the other one is bleeding, and he’s in pain. Send us help.” And help was nowhere to be seen.

And around midnight, he got a call from Al Jazeera, and they told him, “You are on air. Please tell us where you are. What’s happening?” So he broadcasted his plea on air. And once he was done, he couldn’t hear the breath of Ibrahim. He thought he fell asleep. He talked to him; he wouldn’t respond. He placed his hand on his forehead. It was still warm, but he wasn’t breathing anymore, and he had no pulse.

JUAN GONZALEZ: Amer, could you tell—in all of the twenty hours that your father was there, those soldiers who did the shooting never came out to even come near them or to try to, in one way or another, find out the results of what they had done?

AMER SHURRAB: No, no. He asked them for help several times, but they didn’t care.

AMY GOODMAN: Now, Amer, your father, your family, you, are all well known there. You have a farm on the border. Did you know Israeli soldiers as you were growing up? Your farm right in the suburb of Khan Yunis.

AMER SHURRAB: Well, our farm is about 500 meters away from the borders. In several occasions, when there are incursions, the troops would come by, like, pass him, storm by him and continue. They wouldn’t come near him. They knew he has nothing to do with anything. He has no political or military affiliations…(rest continued in the video)