Bert De Belder

Dr. Colette Moulaert calls from Baghdad: “Bert, they started!” She refers to the American terror bombings of course. Our friends, doctors Colette eand Geert Van Moorter, are still on the spot as witnesses.

Colette: “There were three salvo’s at 5:45 am (local time, 3:45 in Belgium), east and south of Baghdad.”

I ask whether they and Geert are safe. “We stay in Hotel Palestine, far from the military targets,” says Colette. “Later today, when the attacks stop, we hope to visit the hospitals in order to testify about the atrocities of this war and to help wherever we can. But we don’t have an official permit yet to work as a doctor. Our contact who would arrange that left Baghdad yesterday. Yesterday we visited chronic patients in the Al-Mansour hospital. The stories are appalling. We’ll try to e-mail them later.”

And what about the communication lines, will they remain open? “As you can hear the telephone still works (indeed, the line is excellent), and all laptops are covered in aluminum foil. That should shield them from the effects of the e-bomb they say. We also have an appointment with Alain Lallemand, a journalist of Le Soir. He stays in another hotel and has a satellite telephone we can borrow.”

And the other internationalists? Or are Geert and Colette the only ones left? Colette sounds very upbeat: “O, don’t worry, there’s a group of Algerians and lots of Palestinians!”

Time to hang up. I admire Colette’s cool and morale. I really hope that they can do much more excellent work.

When I open my mail, there are several mails to encourage Geert and Colette. One of them is from Mayang Grenough, een American nun who has been working with the Philippine people’s movement for more than 35 years. Last year she was one of the participants in a fact-finding mission Geert joined in the Philippines. “I hope and pray for their safety during this time. Such courage and compassion is really moving,” she writes.

Dr. Geert Van Moorter from Baghdad this morning: “Will the children be able to sleep tonight?”

Today, Thursday, the thunder started here in Baghdad. War has started. I call on everybody to join the massive protests at the US embassy. We definitely have to put a halt to this premeditated mass murder.

Last night I went to bed at 2 a.m. Colette woke me up at 4:15 a.m.: “Haven’t you heard it yet?” Bombings were already going on for half an hour. Currently I also hear the muffled rumble. Murder “for a cause” has began. From my experience I know that each muffled boom I hear, means there is a deafening bang and tremendous devastation at the site of impact. More than ever I know that war and human rights are incompatible, as war is already the most atrocious human rights violation. I see the pamphlet of Stop USA before me with the cartoon of Bush as Rambo. So that coward has begun…

In the street, daily life resumes again. I don’t notice any panic but there are less people around than usual. I leave my window open so the glass won’t break.

Tonight I was supposed to join a debate with Luc De Vos, a pro-US military professor. It’s a pity I can’t take him on. I would have had lots of additional “ammunition.” I’d like to confront him with the humanitarian suffering here.

Yesterday we were present wile a child was born. What kind of future has this child? What kind of future does our planet have if we cannot stop the war machine now? What do the children of Bushra, Fatiha, Lika have to think… (emotional) Lika, 36, has three children. Her seven year old daughter is terrified and has so many questions: “Will I lose my arms and legs in the bombings? Will I have pain? Will I die?” Lika asked me how she has to answer her daughter. I didn’t know what to answer her. Her son Jaffar, 6, has hemophilia. With regular injections of Factor VIII the disease could be kept under control, but Factor VIII is banned under the embargo!

The cancer ward of the Mansour hospital lacks anesthesia. I saw a doctor raise his arms to heaven in helplessness. Children are suffering pain. The parents don’t understand why.

Many children will die during the war, not because of the immediate impact of bombings but because they will not be able to reach the hospital and because of the lack of medicines.

The anti-war song “Mr. President” comes to my mind. “Goodnight, Mr. President, I hope you’ll have sweet dreams in your beautiful White House.” Very appropriate. I wonder what goes on in all those children’s heads when they hear the sirens. Tonight millions of Iraqis will be terrified when they go to sleep. Will the children be able to sleep? How many will cry with fear?