From the Newsroom -- Tony Dodero

Last I heard from my friend Husein Mashni, the Daily Pilot’s former

education reporter turned Christian missionary in the Middle East, he was

aghast by the horror of Sept. 11.

As a resident of Jerusalem, typically it is Husein who lives with

terrorism or its threat every day. In fact, on his last visit here during

the summer, he and I were in my office when we saw the news on the wires

that a suicide bomber had blown up the Sbarro pizza restaurant in

Jerusalem.

“I eat there all the time,” Husein said, shaking his head in

disbelief. For me, it was just another terrorist act on distant shores.

So when terror hit our shores and anti-Arabic sentiments were running

dangerously high, I asked Husein to share his feelings after seeing his

homeland of America targeted by suicide hijackers.

My hope was his words could dispel at least some of the anger toward

those of Middle-Eastern descent and give our readers a perspective from

someone who lives with the horror all the time.

Of course, it wasn’t long before Israel and Palestine returned to days

of bloodshed and terror, and with more news of suicide bombers in Israel,

I and others who know Husein here returned to worrying about the safety

of our beloved former colleague.

Then, late last week, nearly four months after our nation’s tragedy,

my e-mail beeped with another message from Husein. It’s but a small

anecdote of the death and tragedy and poverty he experiences now.

Now being a journalist isn’t exactly what I’d call a cushy job, but

trading it for his life now can only be described as an act of

unselfishness and compassion. You’ll see what I mean after reading the

following e-mail I received from Husein:

o7 The Bedouin Village is located within eyeshot of the Israel/Gaza

Strip border. It is made up of gray, cinder-block and corrugated steel

homes. Think Calcutta.

It is built around a beautiful looking body of water that just might

make living here worth it, were it not for the fact that it is a sewage

pond for the surrounding communities including Gaza to the south. It

reeks, but ducks still float on it.

Since the Palestinian uprising began 15 months ago, the main

breadwinner in most of these homes, the fathers, have been unable to get

to their jobs in Israel. Fearing further terrorist attacks, Israel has

sealed off the Gaza Strip.

The families here were able to improvise for a long time with the help

of friends and family, but things have dragged on too long and things are

now desperate.

I heard about 150 families who had no source of income and were

hungry. I wrote to some friends in America and asked if some money could

be raised to help some of the families.

f7 I got about $500, which I converted to 2,000 New Israeli Shekels,

which I proceededo7 , with the advice and assistance of some of the

Village elders, to distribute to some of the “neediest” families.

My friend and I did this on a Sunday afternoon after church. I gave

100 NIS (about $25) to 20 families as a holiday gift.

I winced a little as we walked to various homes. The first was a

two-story concrete apartment building. It is divided into two homes in

which 13 families live.

The family we were visiting had a 12-year-old child who had a rare

disease that kept her from growing. She looked like she was five years

old. There were nine other children, too.

Outside, another man, unaware that I had the money, was joking with my

friend about his financial situation. I know him well. He works 12 hour

days for about 900 shekels ($225) a month. Very typical for the Gaza

Strip.

f7 Good natured, he laughed as he showed us what was left over for

the rest of the month -- o7 nine shekels ($2.25) for a family of seven.

I know well the proverb about teaching a man to fish and all, but this

man is fishing real hard and catching very little.

I shook his hand with a 100 Shekel note in it. He felt it and then

tried to give it back. We told him it was a gift from the Lord. His eyes

welled up with tears as he accepted it.

“Buy something for your daughters,” my friend said.

Another family we visited had several preteen boys. The father was

killed in the uprising earlier in the year.

It was a wee bit much for an easy Sunday afternoon and I don’t think

the 2,000 NIS will do much to alleviate the suffering in the Village, but

I had to do something. Hopefully we can do more in the future.

But what really hurt and what inspired me to write this column was

what happened a few f7 hours after we left the village.

o7 It was reported on television that a few of the young men from the

tiny, impoverished Bedouin Village were attempting to infiltrate a

settlement to the north and were shot to death.

It was just too close. Too soon after I’d been there. So many times in

the last year and a half, I or my friends have had close calls.

One student at a school I worked at was severely injured after some

young men, mistaking her family car for Israeli, threw a huge rock

through one of the car windows.

Another friend’s cousin was killed at the Temple Mount at the

beginninf7 go7 of the uprising. Others had their homes destroyed.

A group of my American friends were only meters away when a suicide

bomber claimed the lives of 14 teenage Israeli boys a few weeks ago.

Thank God none of [my friends ] was hurt.

There’s so many more stories. I could keep it inside and I’m sure I’ll

be fine, but maybe, maybe it’s better to talk about it.

I don’t know any of the young men from the Bedouin Village who were

killed. But for a few minutes, I visited the hell they live in.

In some reports, the young men were described as armed for an attack.

In others, they were just trying to infiltrate into Israel.

Pray for the Peace of Jerusalem, Gaza and the Bedouin Village.

f7

* TONY DODERO is the editor. His column appears on Mondays. If you

have story ideas or concerns about news coverage, please send messages

either via e-mail to o7 tony.dodero@latimes.comf7 or by phone at

949-574-4258.