Of Rainbows and Death

By Mike Odetalla

As I sit writing this, I can clearly see outside my office window, a brilliant rainbow arched across the morning sky. The spectrum of colors decorating the horizon, belie the fact that last night, we had unusually severe thunderstorms and there was even tornado warnings. It is indeed an idyllic and peaceful setting today, the sun is shining, and thus, the very presence of the rainbow, in fact signals the end of nature’s destructive storms. The sight of the rainbow is indeed a welcome one.

As a child growing up in Palestine, where my village was surrounded by hills, and where most of the inhabitants were Fellaheen (farmers/people who worked the land), the life giving rains were eagerly welcomed, especially in spring time. The rains helped transform the surrounding hills green as the dormant plants came back to life and eagerly displayed their flowery blooms, providing a kaleidoscope of color and beauty that is truly an awesome sight to behold. I spent many days as youth running around the hills that surrounded my village, playing and exploring, the way that only a child can. Spring was by far my favorite time of the year for it signaled a renewal of life in all of its forms and glory.

To my mother’s dismay, I would intentionally “get caught” in the rain if I had happened to be out and about. There was and never will be a feeling quite like the one’s that I experienced as I ran through the blossom covered orchards or in the hills during the gentle rains that poured down from the heavens. Sometimes, I would run home, while at other time I would seek shelter in a cave and wait for the rains to subside. I would at times make sure that I was in my favorite cave, which was near the top of the highest hill that dominated the village landscape, as I waited for the rains to stop, knowing full well that a beautiful rainbow would appear.

From my vantage point in the mouth of the cave, I was in position to see and experience a rainbow in a way that cannot be fully described by mere words. The rainbow would stretch across the horizon, as if it were a multi-colored bridge spanning from one hilltop to the next. The sight of these rainbows, their awe inspiring beauty, never ceased to amaze and instill wonder in me at God’s creative beauty.

I used to wonder sometimes what Noah was thinking when he finally caught a glimpse of a rainbow after those many days on unrelenting rains. I am sure that a smile must have across his face when he looked up at the heavens…

I could not look at a rainbow and not think about my childhood, my village, and the beauty of Palestine. The rainbow has always symbolized peace and goodness for me.

That is, till the last few days.

It now seems that the image of the rainbow has been hi-jacked by the Zionists and the commanders of the Israeli Defense Forces in their campaign of death, destruction, and unfettered brutality towards the Palestinian population of Rafah and the rest of Gaza. The criminal attack and invasion of Rafah and Gaza, in a cruel and twisted irony, has been given the unlikely name of “Operation Rainbow” by the Israelis.

How cruel is it that the image of the rainbow and all that it symbolizes are now connected with murder and wanton destruction of the Palestinian people, homes, and lands?

Here in America, they like to tell the kids that at the end of a “rainbow” there is a pot of gold, BUT for Palestine’s brutalized children, it seems that only death and destruction await them at the end of the “Israeli Rainbow”…

Sad to say, I will never be able to look at a rainbow the same way ever again. I will always associate the sight of a rainbow with the gruesome and inhumane scenes that are coming out of Rafah.

Even now that I live far away from the scenes of carnage in Palestine, the Zionists are still destroying and affecting my memories… “Operation Rainbow” indeed…There is no rainbow in Rafah today!