The day Diana died was a sad day. The day she died will forever be a sad day, a day that brings bad tidings. I did not know Diana and yet I was sad, very sad when she was killed. We were all sad that day. I had no idea that her death will remain forever with me as the prelude to more death. Who knew that just a few days later that phone call would come from my mother. That she would tell me there was an explosion in Jerusalem, even as I was watching the horror live on CNN. That those words: “there was an explosion and we can’t find Smadari” will forever ring in my ears when the day of Diana’s death approaches. That hours later it would be confirmed, that I would be on my way to Jerusalem, the plane stopping over in London on the day of Diana’s funeral, on my way to our funeral.
No one warned me that I would see those words in the morning paper in Jerusalem as I arrived from the airport: “The granddaughter of peace activist, ret. General Matti Peled…” It was still dawn. I still don’t know what to say on this day or what to think as September 4 approaches. That day I would cry in my sisters arms like a baby, and would feel that way over and over again, each year, even now ten years later.
Who knew that we would hear Elton John’s song as we drove away from the grave site, that my sister would never forgive herself for leaving her baby girl alone buried in the dirt; that for seven days and six nights, the house where I was born, and where she lived would see so many faces. That the door of the Jerusalem apartment through which Generals and diplomats once entered and on which now the words FREE PALESTINE were written, would be open for people who sought to find light at the end of their darkened lives.
It has been ten years and I am still afraid to see the sun rise on the 4th of September. This is a difficult time. 7000 others have died since from the same preventable cause – Israeli terrorism (also called the occupation). Last January Bassam’s little girl Abir was killed, she was 10, born the year Smadari was killed, how symbolic. I met her father a year and a half or so earlier for the first time. And like everyone else I saw in him a brave man and a leader. Now he too has that unmistakable look in his eyes and an even more burning desire to see it all end.
Among those who came to pay respects were two who are now conducting this orchestra of mass killing. Ehud Olmert who was then the mayor of Jerusalem, and who I did not see, and Ehud Barak. The General, decorated soldier and now Israel’s “defense” minister – personally responsible for the death of thousands of innocent Israelis and Palestinians, at the time he was the head of the Labor party. Barak tried to sell his BS of how to make peace without making it look like he wants peace so that he does not loose votes for being a peacemaker. Hard to believe; I remember asking him why bother, why not tell the truth, that the occupation is to blame for it all and end the occupation. All I received was a cold look, and a cold shoulder when he made the rounds of hand shakes among those present. I also received a lecture from one of his cronies for not understanding politics and being naïve.
Well, today Olmert is an impotent Prime Minister going through the motions of peace negotiations, and Barak is the all powerful “Defense” minister standing at the head of Israel’s unstoppable war machine – placing the full weight of the mammoth he leads so that death shall have dominion.
The new slogan for Diana is “let her die”. Well each year I try and each year I fail, and it has nothing to to with Diana. It is just that the day she died always brings back September 4.










































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