EL ROSTRO DE LA GUERRA.........
EXTRACTO de The New York Times, hoy.....At Lebanon Port, War’s Displaced Wait for Boat That Doesn’t Come -
En el puerto de Libano , desplazados de guerra esperan barco que no llega...
Lebanon Port, War’s Displaced Wait for Boat That Doesn’t Come
Tyler Hicks/The New York Times
Fatima Hijazi, center, cried when her name was called to be among those who
Fatima lloro cuando llamaron su nombre de muchos que
would be evacuated by ferry from the Lebanese port city of Tyre. But her hopes,
serian evacuados por ferry desde Tyre , la ciudad puerto de Libano. Pero sus
esperanzas y las de otros se fueron por la borda cuando el barco simplemente, no
aparecio. Cientos se habian reunido para lograr una chance de embarcarse mas el
barco no aparecio.
and the hopes of others, were dashed when the boat failed to show up. Hundreds
had gathered for a chance to get on the boat, turning a resort into a makeshift
refugee center.
By HASSAN M. FATTAH
Published: July 20, 2006
Llegaron por centenares el miercoles en la manana...hombres mujeres y ninos de
todas partes de el sur de El Libano.......
TYRE, Lebanon, July 19 — They came here by the hundreds on Wednesday morning —
al rumor de que un barco para evacuarlos vendria....ellos llegaron al puerto
desafiando mortales y peligrosos caminos bombardeados duramente...tras una
pequena y ligera posibilidad de embarcarse.
men, women and children from all over south Lebanon, chasing a rumor that an
evacuation ship would come, and braving roads made deadly by heavy bombardment
for even a slim chance to board.
More Multimedia: Israel | Middle East While thousands of people have been
evacuated from Beirut, that city remained an unattainable destination for most
in the south, cut off by repeated, continued Israeli air and artillery strikes.
And so Tyre, a seaside town in the thick of the combat zone, has become the port
of last hope for many.
United Nations staff members and some vacationing Europeans were told a few days
ago that a ferry would come to Tyre for them and that they should meet at the
Rest House resort for boarding. But word quickly spread, and suddenly refugees
from towns throughout the area flooded the hotel, where they gathered for any
chance to get on the boat, turning the resort into a makeshift refugee center.
“I have no idea where we’re going to go or what we’re going to do. All I know is
we have to do something quickly,” said Yolanda Abu Khalil, a native of Puerto
Rico, who had traveled from Fort Worth, Tex., to the south of Lebanon on
vacation with her Lebanese-American husband. “We have been running for our lives
for several days.”
The crowds sat in the sweltering heat, desperate for details of how to register.
Arguments began about various means of escaping the area, and they occasionally
broke out into screaming matches.
The bad news started almost immediately for most, who were told that United
Nations officials and their families would get priority on the ferry, followed
by French citizens, then those from other European Union countries. Lebanese
citizens with no other passports had little chance of getting on, and neither
did Americans and Canadians, who were told by their embassies to go to Beirut
for help. One Lithuanian said she had been told that she could board but that
her baby could not. A man with German citizenship was told his American-born
sons would not be able to join him, and word of that rejection set off a panic
in the crowd as parents desperately sought to put their children on the list.
Faces were worn from days of fear and flight. Here was an elderly couple finally
persuaded to leave their home days after an airstrike leveled a nearby building;
a Lebanese-American family that had rushed from town to town for almost a week
seeking shelter until they arrived here; a French-Lebanese couple whose children
were exhibiting signs of trauma.
“If they let us leave today, we will be able to see our only son. If we don’t,
we will just stay here to die,” said Alia Hiballah, 70, who with her husband had
been holed up in their home since the airstrikes started, spending eight days
with little water and food and no electricity. Halfway through the siege, an
airstrike turned a nearby building to rubble, killing a United Nations official
and his family, and also the family who lived below, she said.
Late in the afternoon, a surge of excitement hit the crowd as United Nations
armored vehicles parked on the beach were prepared to begin transporting people
to the harbor for evacuation. Emotions flowed as people anxiously waited to hear
their names called out. “My daughter has been waiting for me in Abidjan. I can’t
believe I will finally get to see her,” said one woman, Fatima Hijazi, crying
when her name was called. She had been crisscrossing the area for days, staying
in different shelters before arriving here on Wednesday afternoon. And her
journey finally appeared to be over.
But then came the cruelest blow. Even those taken to the harbor had their hopes
dashed when a United Nations official suddenly announced that there would be no
boat arriving that day.
“It was all a lie: I knew it,” a man said bitterly before walking away. “They
knew it!!!
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