Once again the world is holding its breath

December 29, 2008 – Perhaps, it’s the cynicism which warps an aging reporter’s mind – one who has covered the beginnings of the 1990-91Gulf War and the vicious Ethiopian conflict.
However, the present-day war between Israel and the Hamas-controlled Gaza Strip reminded me once again that the doomsday clock is rapidly ticking towards the midnight hour.
Just in the past few days, the escalation of an “end-times” scenario became much more pronounced as all of Israel’s bitterest enemies and her friends, particularly the United States, are only a day or so away from joining in the Israel-Gaza (Hamas) showdown.
If you believe such a scenario seems impossible, just remember the warships of Iran and now even the great power – China – are in the Gulf of Aden, chasing down pirates while Putin’s Russia from the North seems edgy into getting into the Middle East hostilities. Meanwhile, the U.S. armies are in nearby Iraq and Afghanistan.
Coupled with these possibilities would be Israel’s plans to wipe out the Iranian nuclear facilities and the Biblical forecast of the complete destruction of the Syrian capital of Damascus.
The following is a previous column when the world was holding its breath just two years ago.
Tick … Tick … Tick!
***
May, 2006 -- While Israel has been celebrating its 58th birthday, a frightening scenario has been rapidly unfolding in the Middle East. The players appear to be all in place -- Iran, Iraq, Ethiopia, Libya and Algeria among others -- ready to "annihilate" Israel within days.
Even Iranian president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, some might call him "MAD" for short, has certainly bellowed from his small frame: "Israel must be wiped off the map." In other words, drive the miniscule Jewish state into the Mediterrean Sea.
For generations, despots such as Germany's Adolf Hitler have sought to erase Jews from the face of the earth; however, none have succeeded and, according to the Bible, none ever will.
As a former Middle East bureau chief for a major news service, and based in Jerusalem, this reporter has watched as nation after nation have turned their backs on the much-maligned peoples.
In what would be considered an end-times scenario, there seems to be one nation that must be among the list of enemies of Israel, and that, of course, would be Russia.Already the expansive Land of the North -- Putin's Russia -- has declared themselves as faciliators.
While Ahmadinejad has stated his case against Israel, citing the Palestinian issue, other voices are being raised in Iran and elsewhere, fomenting the situation into a fever pitch.In actuality, the Palestinian issue is non-existent, for the people that have occupied both Gaza and large areas of the West Bank territories are only usurpers since Palestine has never been their land; most are peoples from Jordan and other Arab countries, who "squatted" in present-day Israel, for the Jews were, basically, in exile for some 2,000 years.
In 1948, the Jews under such leadership as the late David Ben-Gurion and others established their homeland and it became known as modern-day Israel.
For the children of Israel, it had been a heart-rendering "exile," for even in Psalm 137 it reads:"How shall we sing the Lord's song in a strange land?
If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right handforget her cunning.
If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to theroof of my mouth;if I prefer not Jerusalem above my highest joys.
This was the song of the exiled Jews, who were camped by the waters of Babylon, now in present-day Iraq.
Through the errant leadership of now-comatose Ariel Sharon and present-day Prime Minister Ehud Olmert, Sharon's protege, of "giving up" their God-given inheritance, the Israelis have been squeezed inside a small portion of The Land, and completely surrounded by hostile Islamic nations, particularly Syria.
And what do the Iranians intend to do in such a situation?
Perhaps, a senior Revolutionary Guards commander, Rear Admiral Mohammad-Ebrahim Dehqani, put it more succinctly than some of his diplomatic cohorts when he said: "We have announced that whenever America does something evil, the first place we will target will be Israel.
"In other words, that's more than a double dare. The rear admiral was actually saying, "Mr. Bush, we dare you to do something and we'll go after Israel ... with nuclear weapons. After all, we have them."Undoubtedly, Washington and President Bush will not sit idly by and allow Iran to dictate world terms.
And what will be the triggering mechanism to bring Russia from the North to join Iran, Iraq, Ethiopia, Libya and Algeria in attacking Israel?That's something all news observers are pondering.Will there be other prominent "spoils," which stand out when the Russian-led Muslim alliance attempts to invade the tiny state, who possess nuclear facilities at Dimona?
One thing that's absolutely certain, according to the "textbook" -- the Bible -- there will be "a supernatural destruction of this Russian-led alliance.
"Will it occur in the massive staging area known as Armageddon, in the Valley of Jezreel, in northern Israel?
And what happens to the so-called No. 1 world power, the United States, in this scenario?

First Person Account ... but for my mother's prayers

(Ed. Note -- OK Corbett had intended to write about his own ‘Bucket List’ after viewing the Jack Nicholson-Morgan Freeman flick, in which both have cancer and have been given six months to live before “kicking the bucket.” However, in a strange twist of fate and in a split second, Corbett’s own life hung in the balance early Friday afternoon.)

Fridays have always been one of my favourite days of the week.
A time to run some farm errands; feed the dawgs – Bennie the Hound and Sadie the Kid and even Griff if I can find him – and then head out to see some friends in Falkland, on to Westwold and even out to Monte Lake.
Most of the afternoon was filled as well with a trip into Vernon to check with my doctor – Dr. DeBeer – to find out the results of some recent tests and then return to the Ol’ Homestead, put up my feet and mull over what I was going to write for Monday.
I had decided to do my own ‘Bucket List.’ Or so I thought. Instead, it became a first-person account of how I (nearly) died on a Friday afternoon, but for the grace of God.
11:30 a.m. - 12 noon: I headed into Falkland to do some errands and then the Subaru Outback purred towards Monte Lake. Even though it was snowing, there didn’t seem to be any problem and I knew I would get back to Vernon by 2:20 in time to check in with Dr. DeBeer.
12:45 p.m.: No problem although the snow started to swirl on the return trip as I approached Westwold and rounded the corner towards the Legion, located on the left-hand side of the road. Slush was building up in the middle of the road and the car skidded slightly and then it happened …
12:50 p.m.: The car started to spin round and round and turning in the opposite direction. And then it went sideways to the left-hand side of the road and sped up. However, I believed I would be able to stop it before landing in the ditch, but it didn’t.
12:51 p.m.: “Oh, God,” I whispered. I’m now flying high in the air and then within seconds, although it seemed like an eternity, the Subaru “twisted” and then landed with a thud on its roof. The floor is now inches from my face and my legs are trapped. I could hear the car radio blaring; the engine was still going and the seatbelt was holding my 260-pound frame tight and I’m lying in a bed of shattered glass.
12:53: I’m conscious, but I’m trapped and thinking, “is this how I’m going to die?” The car’s interior was crushing down on me and I couldn’t move my arms. It was like a tomb. A grave. And then I yelled: “Help me!” a half-dozen times. However, I am at peace. No panic. No out-of-this world nightmares.
12:55: Then I heard a female voice and it was familiar one. “It’s Barb McDonald. Are you okay?” she asked. “I think so,” I replied. I knew Barb, for The Missus and my family had stayed at her home during the 2003 fires, which had come so close to our Whispering Pines residences. (I later learned this “angel of mercy,” was also a school-bus driver as well as a “First Responder” and had apparently watched as the Subaru sailed into a ditch, which turned out to be a deep six-foot gully, laden with rocks and brush).
1:06 p.m.: I moved my arms and my wrist watch was working and found it intact and I wondered what was underneath my head. It was glass. The car door was finally pulled open and I could see outside and looked up at some shoes high above. From that angle, I thought I had landed in the Grand Canyon.
(It was then that RCMP Cpl. Keith Ferguson of the Falkland Detachment joined the “rescue” party and displayed a high degree of professionalism and concern).
1:15: Barb asked me to turn off the ignition and I tried to reach the keys which were next to my left foot; she was concerned that the airbags would “deploy” and I’d be in trapped without any means of escape. They didn’t and although I couldn’t get the keys out; the car radio finally ceased blaring. Barb had to leave, for it was past time for her to pick up school kids, who were waiting for the bus. Then one of the firemen asked me if I could crawl out of the tangled mess. I wanted to see if my legs would actually work since the left one was snared under the dash. Crawling outside, there were a half-dozen or so rescue-ambulance-firemen there in the gully and up top on the road. I got up off my snow-covered knees and shakily got to my feet. I could stand. I was alive, but the Subaru now resembled a battered accordion. I was wondering how I was going to get up the steep incline. That’s when the fireman told me that I would be taken in a basket and hauled up to the waiting ambulance.
1:20: Another “free” ride and that’s when I saw the full extent of the Subaru’s “injuries,” lying upside down in a fatal position. However, I couldn’t ponder the situation too long for a hospital visit was mandatory. The ambulance “nurse” told me she had once been a paralegal in Vancouver, but had found that being with the ambulance service was so much more satisfying. We talked and even chuckled about our life experiences.
2:45: Vernon Jubilee Hospital Emergency: A wheelchair was in order, for it’s mandatory even though I was quite mobile. No injuries. No stiffness. Only a rinky-dink scratch on my finger (fourth digit right-hand side), which measured all of 1/64 of an inch and nearly invisible after drops of blood had been wiped off.
4:10: The Missus and stepdaughter Susan arrived at the hospital to take me home and they were shocked to see me uninjured and mobile.
5:30: Although I had been told, in the past that I had more lives than a cat since I had been threatened by vicious gangs and even small kids with guns in Ethiopia; been surrounded by hoodlums in Israel and survived, I knew there must be another reason for the latest episode. That’s when I told my 93-year-old mother in Calgary on the phone about the accident. She was calm as usual. “I know … I called my prayer group together and we’ve been praying for you the past couple of days.”
As in the past, my survival didn’t depend on any number of “cats,” but on my mother’s prayers and my faith in God.

Tears once again covered The Land

ON MONDAY in a far-off place, Mumbai (formerly known as Bombay), a two-year-old boy named Moshe touched the entire world with his screams of “Mommy, Mommy”!
If you were not touched by his tearful wail, then your heart has turned to stone.
And then on Tuesday in Israel, tears once again covered The Land, as Moshe’s mother, Rivka Holtzberg, and father, Rabbi Gavriel Holtzberg, were laid to rest in Mount of Olives cemetery.
In a memorial ceremony, Rivka’s father, Shimon Rosenberg, told the mourners that his daughter was five months pregnant at the time of her death.
She and her husband and others in Chabad House had been slaughtered by the hideous terrorists while Little Moshe had been rescued and as Israeli President, Shimon Peres, was quoted as saying, “We must explain to him why his mother was murdered. Anyone who has a child must ask this question. Those who have no pity for children will not pity mothers or fathers.”
***
While the story of a now motherless and fatherless child touched the hearts of many others, it had a major impact on mine, for I must admit that I’m still drawn to Israel time and time again, even though it’s been some years since I lived there.
Being based in Jerusalem as a Middle East bureau chief for a major news-gathering organization, it changed my life and now, years later, there’s a definite yearning to return to The Land. It also opened the doors to another ancient people – the Black Jews, known as the Falashas – whom I spent time with in Ethiopia.
They, too, have longed for eons to return to what they consider to be their Promised Land, Israel.
When I went searching the latest news concerning them, it was disconcerting to learn that in a Dec. 1, 2008 report from Addis Ababa, there are around 8,000 still waiting to travel to Israel in order to reunite with relatives.
***
I will never forget, however, my first meeting with these “forgotten” people:
CORBETT'S DIARY: Thursday, Nov. 15, 1990, ADDIS ABABA, Ethiopia: "As we drove through the weaving traffic, we reached the Asmera road, which seemed to be blocked off and Sherry Yano (with CPAR -- Canadian Physicians for Aid and Relief) was told by one of the few traffic cops I'd seen in Addis, that the road was off-limits because of a celebration at the Israeli embassy.
"So parking the land cruiser, we started walking along the road, filled with people going to and fro with many children in their Sunday best, along with women with great umbrellas and long, white dresses, and finely-robed men.
"Everyone had a wide smile on their faces and there was an unexplainable glow.
"Even the youngsters were different."I kept my vidcam recording this scene, and while the kids were curious, they allowed us to be part of their celebration walk.
"On the side of the hill, guarded by what I knew to be an Israeli agent, the white-robed throng poured through the gates from the embassy, well hidden in the trees.
"Their lilting voices lifted into heaven.
"I felt a part of these radiant people.
"As we walked along, we inquired about where the leaders' compound was, and first a smiling man and then a young boy pointed the way.
"Just then a small car pulled up and two of Sherry Yano's friends yelled greetings.
"They, too, had a radiant look.
"One young woman, Jody, in a white wrap-a-round, and she, too, was bubbling about the celebration on the Israeli embassy grounds and how she had joined in dancing with thousands of Falashas.
"The small car now held all five of us as we turned down a narrow dirt road and stopped in front of a locked compound.
"Stepping through a narrow gate opening, I saw at least 100 men, women and children in their finest clothing, sitting alongside a neat bungalow, feasting on injerra and other typical Ethiopian food; chatting away, but I didn't feel out of place.”
Incidentally, Nov. 15, 1990 was significant, for it marked Sigd, the Ethiopian Jews’ day of prayer to return to their homeland, Israel, and the freeing of the Jews from Babylonian captivity. It’s a celebration unlike any other in Ethiopian or Jewish history.
On May 24-25, 1991, about 17,000 Falashas were airlifted from Addis to Israel under the code name, Operation Solomon. The first great airlift in 1983-84 had been dubbed Operation Moses.