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With Prayers, Tears, Israeli Arabs Bury Dead
Feiza Turki is comforted by relatives as she grieves over the coffins of her daughters, who were killed by an Israeli army deserter.
(By Uriel Sinai -- Getty Images)
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Here in Shfaram, a sidewalk shrine rose at the site of the shooting -- a collection of daisies and roses, shattered glass and the bus's rubber window frames, a yellow shoebox smeared with blood. Rows of votive candles spilled white and yellow wax, which hardened around an assortment of items placed on the concrete throughout the day. People gathered with freshly printed posters proclaiming, "Down With Racism."
"I don't want this to hurt relations between anyone," said Farid Bahous, 58, whose younger brother Michel had driven the Egged bus from Haifa for nearly 25 years before he was killed in the shooting. "We have many Jewish friends."
Michel Bahous, 56, was born in Shfaram and attended school on the same campus where his family received mourners Friday afternoon. Among those who filled plastic chairs in the breezy courtyard were his three teenage sons.
"He loved his family, the people of this place," Farid Bahous said.
It was harder for Nazih Hayak, a 43-year-old pharmacist, to strike the same tone of reconciliation. His brother Nader died in the shooting, leaving behind a small grocery store he owned in the center of town near where the bus stopped and the shooting began.
"When it comes to the other side, they destroy the house of the family," Hayak said, referring to the Israeli policy of demolishing the homes of suicide bombers' families. "In this case, they have to destroy the house of the parents if they really want equality."
Hazar and Dina Turki, 24 and 22 respectively, rode the bus regularly to and from classes in Haifa. Both were studying to be teachers, with Dina training as a special education instructor. Their mother and father, a construction worker, had five daughters. They were the youngest.
As the coffins arrived, dozens of mourners began to cry out, a woman's voice rising above the others.
"They are the beloved of God," it rang out, over and over.
