Tiny assassins: Cluster munitions keep on killing - Southern children remain vulnerable to lethal legacy

Source: Daily Star, 31-10-2006
ANA: "They don`t want us to play," the obvious leader of the group tells a reporter who has asked someone else a question about the repercussions of war in this storied village southeast of Tyre. Children of various ages are slowly filing out of, and away from, a school that occupies one of the several hills upon which Qana sits. As a visiting and clearly foreign-born journalist tries to draw out a suspicious woman who identifies herself as a teacher and some attentive but unforthcoming adolescents on what the war has meant to them, it is a tiny boy who speaks up. He looks to be about six years of age but holds court with the certainty of a student working toward a master`s degree in conflict studies.
The question is about whether the school has an active program to raise awareness about "Israeli" cluster munitions and other forms of unexploded ordnance (UXO) among the children. The teacher wants to know why the question has been asked, but the youngster wants the reporter to know why the UXOs were put there in the first place.
Perhaps the feeling most commonly expressed by people exposed to war is one of smallness, not in the sense of inconsequence but rather in that of ineffectuality, an inability to control events.
The tiny boy is having none of it. He offers his name without being asked and shouts it repeatedly when the teacher, in no uncertain terms, makes the journalist understand that he is not to identify the child in print.
The child`s English is heavily accented and grammatically poor, but he does not search for words. "Crimes against the humans," he says, pointing a finger to the sky from which "Israeli" warplanes dropped their payloads on Qana and other communities across the South.
Apart from a single calamitous air strike at the end of July that wiped out about two dozen civilians, Qana did not suffer as grievously as many other towns and villages during last summer`s war. Even so, the bombing brought back memories of 1996, when an "Israeli" artillery barrage killed more than 100 civilians who had sought refuge at a United Nations compound in the village. The problem now is that this past summer`s war is still killing people despite the August 14 cessation of hostilities under UN Security Council Resolution 1701.
"Billion! Billion cluster booms!" declares the little boy.
He has overshot the official UN estimate of 1 million cluster munitions spread across the South (most of them in the 72 hours between adoption of 1701 and its implementation) - but he is making a common Arabic-English translation error, not propagandizing.
"Houses, schools, farms," he adds, demonstrating his diminutive reach as he tries to communicate the manner, at best indiscriminate, in which the "Israeli" military used aircraft, artillery and rocket strikes to spread the devices that have killed at least 20 civilians and wounded dozens more since August 14.
As the reporter returns to his vehicle and prepares to take his leave of the reticent mass and the destined-to-be loquacious boy, he is reminded to "be very careful" and invited to "come back soon."
A quick jaunt through Qana and its environs confirms the widespread nature of the threat. Multiple sites bear markings in red spray paint left by de-mining contractors.
Tasked by the United Nations with removing mines and other UXOs left behind from "Israel's" 1978-2000 occupation of the South, the de-miners` mandate has now been expanded to include the after-effects of the most recent war.
The markings are especially common near the area`s expansive orange groves, which explains why so much of this year`s crop has been lost already, but homes and businesses were also targeted. A young employee at a machine shop shrugs when asked if the UXOs found at his place of work have been removed.
"Back there," he says on condition of anonymity, motioning vaguely to the rear of the building but directly admonishing his inquisitor to stay near the front. The visitor requires no extra encouragement to keep his distance.
Alongside a road leading east, closer to the coast, members of a team from the Mine Action Group (MAG) are piling equipment into a truck. A burly Scandinavian explains that he has no time to talk because he and his colleagues are heading off to another site to carry out their duties.
Asked how long the process of making the South safe will take, he explains that he is "just a contractor" and that it`s not his place to speak to the media.
His pursuer accepts defeat and offers a sympathetic observation to the effect that MAG`s current mission constitutes "dangerous work."
"No so much," the man says. "I`m more afraid of driving in Lebanon."
Easy for a properly equipped and trained professional to say, but the parents of the South remain justifiably leery of what awaits their children as the latter engage in what should be the carefree play of youth.
On the outskirts of Tyre, a man named Hassan and his wife are watching their four-strong brood kick a basketball around the empty parking lot of a shuttered restaurant.
The business was not his, he says; he and his family are actually from Qana. So why do they turn the kids loose at this particular spot?
"Tar," he explains, pointing to the smoothly asphalted lot. "You can see there`s no bombs."