The Census

– part 2-

Salaam aleikum va rahmatu Llahi va barakatuh.
I finally managed to calm myself down a bit so I will now proceed to tell you the second part of my story.
I left my previous tale at the morning when a sudden noise woke up the entire camp, as a large number of trucks and soldiers enters through the gates. I don’t remember the brand of the trucks, but I can describe them even all these years. Strong trucks, that reminded me of tanks. Big trucks, with big guns installed on them. The soldiers proceeded to divide the camp in four sectors, and surrounded each sector with barbed wire. Moreover, on the main roads inside the camp, a lot of soldiers were standing guards, one every 2 meters or so. And, of course, the trucks were there to intimidate us even more. The census lasted for 4 days. During all this time, the water trucks did not enter the camp, the market was closed, even the “shops” inside the camp that were set up by some of the Muslim sisters, were closed. We were only allowed to exit our tents to go use the toilet. Those who ventured to exist the tent risked, at best, to be beaten up by the soldiers and, at worst, to be arrested or even killed. Even if you were arrested, the chances of returning to the camp were very slim, if none at all. The worst was during the night. We all stayed awake in a perpetual state of fear, as we knew that the soldiers, mostly men, could enter our tents at any time, as they pleased. Alhamdulillah (Blessed be Allah), this did not happen during the census, at least not to me or my closest Muslim Sisters inside the camp.
Another thing we constantly feared were the fires. The soldiers smoked a lot, and they threw their cigarette buds everywhere, as they pleased. We feared that the tents could catch fire from one of those cigarette buds and, as they were set up so close from one another, the risk of a major fire was very high. Moreover, as the roads were closed and blocked by soldiers and trucks, the water trucks could not enter the camp in time to stop a potential fire. As each minute, each day passed, the tensions rose, and the feeling of fear was taking over all residents of the camp.
And so, the census started in the first sector of the camp. Very early one morning, a large number of soldiers entered the sector and removed everyone from their tents. They thoroughly searched the tents, to make sure no one was left or hiding inside. They then took us to the main building in the other camp that was across the road from ours, the one where they kept the Arab prisoners. We were ordered to stand on a row, we were searched and then we were taken to a series of small booths nearby. Each of us was photographed in such a way as to see all of our facial features clearly, we were taken our fingerprints and our personal data was written down. I felt humiliated during that whole process I was afraid and, at the same time, I was feeling angry and resentful that I was being treated in such a disrespectful manner, as if I was a common criminal.
During the time of the census I am writing about, my son was still little and the soldiers paid no attention to him, but the Muslim Mothers who had older boys were living a constant state of panic. They tried to save them and hide them as best they could from the soldiers. The boys tried to run away from one sector to another, from the sectors were the checks were going on to the sector in which the checks were already finished. Some of them tried to hide inside the tents, under the sheets of the made up bed, while others tried to pretend they were girls, dressing up in women’s clothing and applying a little bit of make up on their faces. In order to better protect their boys, some of the Muslim Sisters also applied a bit of make up on their faces as well.
The problems did not end with the census alone. After we were allowed to return to our tents, we were simply shocked of what we found. Some of us found their tents shredded to pieces, others found their kerosene all spilled on the floor or, even worse, spilled over the cereals we used for cooking and making food. Many of us found their tents slightly burned by cigarette buds, as the soldiers used our tents as their ashtrays. The camp was in chaos. Not one tent remained intact after the soldiers finished their searches. There were even cases when some of the Muslim Sisters found that their entire reserve of kerosene and cereals was taken away by the soldiers.
Not to say of the families that did not return to the camp after the census. Some of them, we heard, were taken to another camp, with stricter rules and security. Mostly, this was the case of the European Muslim Sisters. The truth is, no one really knows where some of them were actually taken. We assumed they were taken to prison or even worse. Chaos reigned everywhere and it as awful. The worst part is that not all of the older boys managed to hide from the soldiers. So, there were situations in which some of the teenage boys were taken away by the soldiers. The suffering and pain of their mothers was endless and cannot be described in words. Everything was like a dreadful nightmare that one simply wished to wake up from as soon as possible.
What got me through this ordeal was the belief that everything that happens, everything we go through is a trial that Allah subjects us to in order to see if we are worthy of His Love and Infinite Mercy. Each time, I placed my soul and my hopes in Allah and prayed that He would give patience and strength to endure, and that He would make me grateful for all His Blessings. May Allah Almighty defend and protect the life of each and every Muslim Believer on Earth.

Asira