Recently, over 20 demolitions were carried out in the Shu’fat Refugee Camp by the Israeli Occupation Forces to make way for a wider road and inevitable future relocation of the residents of Jerusalem’s only refugee camp.
Category: Features
Urif: the struggle to study
Urif, the 21th of November
Urif is a small Palestinian village perched on the top of a hill, not far from Nablus. The view is beautiful and clear, overlooked by another scenic hill. A longtime resident tells us that before the 1980s, the locals used to go for walks and picnics in the area, but since the illegal settlers seized it, it has not been possible or safe to walk in this area. No one would dare go too close to the area because the settlers are very dangerous. “The most dangerous of all the West Bank, with those of Kyriat Arbat, in Khalil [Hebron]” says the guardian of the school we met. He adds that settlers from Kyriat Arbat come to join those of Yitzar to attack the surrounding villages on a regular basis.
Established in 1983, Yitzar is home to a religious extremist community that has expanded in recent years. The arrival of young settlers has increased the attacks over the past five years. “And it gets worse from year to year,” he explains. The Israeli authorities’ dismantling of the Baladim forward post in June 2017, considered too violent and extremist even by the Israeli authorities, led to an influx of young settlers in Yitzar. However, they do nothing to prevent recurring criminal attacks against Palestinians. In Urif, the last building of the village before the colony, is the boys’ college. So here you never know if students will be able to study until 1:30 pm, the end time of their school day. Ayed Al Qot, the director of the college explains that since September, the staff has been forced to evacuate the establishment seven times. The situation is worse than last year. Behind his desk are tear gas bombs, sound bombs and rubber coated steel bullets collected from the school courtyard. He keeps them there as evidence of their painful, absurd daily life.
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Every day, there is always an overwhelming anxiety at the thought that the settlers may arrive and throw stones at the college. In these cases, the guardian of the establishment warns the teachers, the Palestinian Ministry of Education and contacts the inhabitants of the village and the Palestinian Police (who never comes, he adds). The students return the stones at the settlers and the inhabitants come to join them to defend the school and the village. Soldiers who watch the settlers attacks from afar come to suppress the Palestinians’ response. Tear gas, sound bombs, rubber coated bullets and even live ammunition. Less than two weeks ago, fifty settlers attacked the school. Several students were shot and wounded and taken to the hospital. It’s hard to know if the shootings came from settlers or the army, says Ayed Al Qot. One thing is certain, killing people does not seem to be a problem for these settlers, and it has happened several times.
Last Monday, it was at dawn that they attacked, which resulted in the school not even be able to open. The clashes lasted more than five hours. So in the face of these constant attacks, school drop-out is high, much higher than in other villages, explains the director. And the program is hard to keep. When the school is attacked, classes are cancelled and students are sent home. During class, young boys find it hard to concentrate, paying more attention to movements from outside than from their teacher. The teaching team is therefore considering alternatives to ensure that they can follow all the lessons; give lessons in the afternoon and on weekends in the center of the village for example. She would also like support to build a security fence and install a roof over part of the playground. So many solutions being put forward, but in the face of a situation where nobody is there to protect the students and put an end to the terror policy of the young settlers, it is hard to know what can really be done to stop the attacks. Some parents surrender and decide to change the school their child attends, but this is not an option for many of the parents.
Everyday, the guard makes a tour of the college before the students arrive to be sure that no colonist has entered. When the classes begin, he places himself on the roof of the school or on the road in front of the building. Teachers regularly ask him if the settlers are on the way, constantly worried. This makes is difficult for the students to study but also for the teachers to teach affectively in such an environment.
- That day, we see settlers at the top of the hill. The guard warns residents and the information circulates quickly. Cars go back and forth to see the evolution of the situation. A parent tells us that he leaves his job almost daily to come, as soon as he learns that settlers are in the area. Difficult to imagine the daily life of these people, immersed in endless waiting. Several hours pass, a man from the security service of the colony observes us from the hill, armed. There are silhouettes of settlers, sticks in hand, then they disappear. The wait continues. At 13:30, the school bell rings, luckily they have not been attacked today, leaving a little respite to the students, teachers and parents.
In Palestine, time seems sometimes suspended. People are constantly waiting.
They are waiting for settler attacks, without knowing when they will take place.
They are waiting for the Israeli police to demolish their houses when they are built in zone C “illegally”, because of the lack of permits issued by the Israeli authorities.
They wait at checkpoints, subject to the goodwill of Israeli soldiers to let them pass through.
They are also waiting for the release of loved ones, sometimes without knowing when they will be released.
Then of course there is always the expectation and hope that of one day their land with be liberated and free of the occupation.
Two Palestinians and an International shot at non-violent Protest in Kafr Qaddum
November 23, 2018 | International Solidarity Movement | Kafr Qaddum, Occupied Palestine
Fourteen years ago the Israeli Government closed the road between Kafr Qaddum and Nablus, extending the distance to 14 km, effectively making what would be a 15 minute journey for the villagers, into 40 minutes. The protests began in 2011 to reopen the illegal roadblock, and have continued every Friday and Saturday since then.
Today’s protest, as always, began after prayer. Immediately, the soldiers started firing live rounds, rubber bullets, and tear gas.
The coordinator of the demonstration, Murad Eshtewi, was hit with a live round in the right thigh. After being transferred to an ambulance, a fellow demonstrator took his place, speaking into the megaphone.
In response to the tear gas and gunfire, the youth began throwing stones – deemed by Israel as a crime punishable up to 20 years in prison.
Several internationals were present, including those from ISM, IWPS, and the Press. A 65-year-old Italian national – a volunteer with ISM – was shot in her left thigh by a rubber-coated steel bullet. “I was just standing there,” she recalls, “It was good that I was turned away. I could’ve been shot in the knee.” Another young boy was also shot in the leg, and was carried off into an ambulance, reportedly in shock.
This attack on another peaceful demonstration against the illegal road block, only confirms the increase in aggression by the army. Discouraging protest by the Palestinians, and international solidarity thereof, is the only take-away from an attack like this. “They used less bombs and tear gas… But they used more bullets,” another demonstrator states.
Demonstrations by Palestinians and Internationals are expected to continue for this Saturday, and the following weekends.
Farihan Farah’s painful separation from her son is nothing new for Palestinian mothers
22nd November 2018 | International Solidarity Movement, Ramallah team | Kafr Aqab, occupied Palestine
Nearly three years after being locked up in a detention center in Northern Israel, Shadi Farah, currently the youngest child imprisoned by Israel, is finally going home. “I feel that this month has been the longest month of my life.” Farihan Farah is the mother of five, including Shadi, and is representative of over 400 other mothers in Palestine who desperately wait for their children’s return. “My feelings are mixed. My son is finally coming out after three years… I will finally get to hug him and kiss him. He’ll finally get to be with his siblings. At the same time, I fear for him… That if he’s released he’ll become a target, and I may lose him forever.”
The horrific attacks of the Dawabsheh family, where an 18-month-old was burned alive, and young Mohammed Khudair, also burnt alive, had all of Palestine in an uproar. While walking from school, Shadi expressed anger to his friend, Ahmed, over the incidents. “He was talking about the necessity of taking action against the Israeli soldiers… It was just kids talking!” The self-proclaimed “only democracy” in the Middle East, would have an observer puzzled by her imperative to make this point. “A settler overheard them and called the police,” she affirms. They were picked up shortly after, and were in custody by 11 in the morning (though she didn’t know his whereabouts until 10 at night). The first twenty four hours were traumatic enough; his interrogation without a lawyer, being brought to court in cuffs the next day, and being restrained by seven soldiers who struck him when he tried to run to his weeping mother. “I thought he would be released (the night before), especially because he’s a child, and didn’t commit a crime.” Israeli Police allegedly found knives on the boys, though no evidence was brought forth. The judge ordered that the Farah family pay 5,000 shekels for bail, and they did so, only to be notified that the case had been transferred to Central Court at Salah-Al-Deen Street; The judge, jury, and DA were all changed.
The next time young Shadi was brought into court, his mother was shocked at the site of his shaved head. “They found out that he loved his hair, so they shaved it!” For one year, each trial ended in no verdict, which lead to more time in confinement, and more torture. “They kept him for 6 days in room No. 4- which is known to have a very cold AC. He was also stripped from his clothing, and remained in his underwear, kept in darkness,” she recalls from their infrequent talks. He was finally sentenced for attempted murder and possession of a knife.
It’s been almost three years for Shadi behind bars. While his freedom is being celebrated, the likely fallout from such a traumatic experience is something Farihan Darafhmeh Farah knows all too well. “It’s not easy for a child to be away from his family for three years. I have to know him all over again. He was taken away at the most critical time of his life. I have to learn how he changed. His thoughts. What does he like now? What doesn’t he like? A lot of things. His childhood was taken away from him… He was enforced to transfer into a man, not grow into one.”A recent report documented the mental, educational, and social effects of Israel’s treatment of children during detention. DCIP found bed-wetting, trouble sleeping, and self-restricting movement to be but some of the symptoms of post-trauma. This does not take into account the legal problems that young, Palestinian convicts face when they are released. “He has a 5-year probation, and they can very simply just stop him and re-arrest him… He could be passing by a protest, or someone throwing a rock, and he can be arrested without reason.”
However, life goes on for the Farah family, and Shadi’s release is beyond a spectacle of rejoice. “I think to myself, what does Shadi love? Should I bring him Shawerma? ShouldI make him dolma? Should I bring him his little cars and toys? But Shadi’s a young man now. If I take him his toys, he’ll probably not want it. He’ll probably be embarrassed. I don’t know, I think everyday, what can I do for him? I’m fixing the house, I’m fixing his room. I have so many ideas and I’m overwhelmed. Should I take him to the pool where he used to swim? Or should I take him to ride a horse? He rode horses as a child. There’s a lot that he was denied, and I want to compensate him for everything. I want to cook him the food he loves. I want to bring his old friends to see him. I don’t know…” Farihan Farah takes a moment as tears begin to well up in her eyes, managing to say- “My father died while Shadi was in prison. I want to take him to his grandfather’s grave. A lot has happened when he was in prison.”
The damage that has been done is undeniable, and the only way forward for the Farah family is resilience and courage. From here, the path forward is uncertain, happiness not guaranteed, and in fact the obstacles may only increase. “I will have to move him to a school that’s closer to the house. He’ll always have trouble at checkpoints. He won’t be allowed to practice a normal daily life. We will be living in the horror of what might happen. And this is the way many Palestinian families live… We try to make hope. We try to be optimistic.” Ten year-old Nawal, Shadi’s sister, is a gymnast and Dabke dancer, and was being taught how to swim by Shadi before he was taken. “I’m happy that he’s coming back,” she says, “I was seven when he was taken.”
It’s hard to understand the evil nature of Shadi’s treatment without knowing the systematic degradation of Palestinian minors in the state of Israel; only one function that embodies the nature of the occupation, internationally recognized to be illegal. “People only view darkness. They are pessimistic and depressed. There’s no hope for us, in Jerusalem, Gaza, or The WestBank. Everyday passes in horror… We eat, drink, and live day by day. We don’t know what’s going to hit us- capture or murder. A worker heads to his job in the morning and you hear in the news that he was shot, claiming that he attempted to stab someone. I never imagined that a little boy like Shadi would be captured. I always fear that when we’re driving to Al-Khalil, a road that is filled with checkpoints and obstacles, if by God’s will the car was broken mid-way, that they’d shoot everyone inside and murder us, claiming that we are up to no good. I cannot even imagine stepping a foot in a place like Zaatara, where they would see my hijab and immediately think that I am up to no good, and just shoot me. They deny us and our children the right to live a normal life. To play, study, grow. Like Shadi, there a lot more children.”
Shadi Farah is set to be released the 29th of November, 2018.
Palestinians and Internationals attacked with Gunfire in Mazra’a al-Qibliya
November 19, 2018 | International Solidarity Movement, Ramallah team | Ramallah, occupied Palestine
Investigating a reported settler attack on a home outside of Mazra’a al-Qibliya, the residents, along with ourselves, were attacked by a settler on horseback on the 18th November.
The settler began by intruding on the property and brandishing a handgun. The residents responded by throwing stones, as the settler circled, firing seven shots over the course of five minutes. My colleagues and I ducked as the last three bullets whizzed past our heads.
Before the initial attack, we interviewed the villagers about an assault on their property, in which they described about twelve settlers coming in the middle of the night, armed with rifles, firing shots in the air, while vandalizing various parts of their property.
Near the house, we found all of their water tanks punctured by stab marks, fencing around the property ripped from the perimeter, and their television’s satellite dish destroyed.
Further out in the courtyard were more signs of damage, including attempted arson. One of the residents showed us a Molotov cocktail made from a beer bottle with cloth inside. “He wanted to burn down the flat,” he said, making a point to show us the front of the bottle: “From Israel. Look. Do you see that? Shandy”, an Israeli brand of beer.
Their property sits less than two kilometers away from two Israeli settlements, and one outpost, including the settlement Kem A’erm, where the attackers reside.