A collective of students in Gaza has formed the Palestinian Students’ Campaign for the Academic Boycott of Israel (PSCABI). These students are seeking to expand their collaboration and participation in events and activities with solidarity activists at international universities.
PSCABI members participate in many activities here in Gaza and are heavily involved in supporting the international student solidarity movements, especially with the Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions campaigns. PSCABI members frequently write letters out of Gaza, some of which we have listed below, encouraging people to participate in the boycott and thanking people who have supported the Palestinian cause.
PSCABI members are available to share ideas, participate via Skype or other technology in remote events, organize and strategize together, hear about your activities and provide information and narratives as Palestinian university students for your distribution, and provide access to voices speaking directly from besieged Gaza.
If you are interested in:
communicating with PSCABI
hosting a Skype conference with a PSCABI member
developing your organization’s relationship with PSCABI
Israeli Apaches and land forces shelled an area east of Beit Hanoun, in the northern Gaza Strip, on Wednesday morning, January 18 2012.
Two young men were killed and another was injured. As we hurried to the scene we met an ambulance driving at high speed. Upon arriving we heard immediately that one of the young men, 20 year old Mohammed Shaker Abu Auda, had died instantly, while the other man was rushed to the hospital.
We went to the Beit Hanoun hospital morgue, and we saw the massacred body of Mohammed. While we were at the morgue we heard that the other young man was in critical condition at Kamal Adwan Hospital. While we were moving to that hospital, we learned that Ahmed Khaled Abu Murad Al-Zaaneen, 17 years-old, had also died.
We waited for his funeral.
Mohammed Shaker Abu Auda, martyred at the age of 20
Family members and friends told us that the two young men went near the border to find building materials to sell. The poorest youth of Gaza frequently go to the border, in the so-called no go zone of 300 meters imposed by Israel, to find building material to sell.
They also told us that the two young men were catching birds.
The body of Ahmed was at about 300-400 meters from the border.
Saber Zaaneen of the Beit Hanoun Local Initiative told us that Ahmed was losing blood from his head but that “he was still alive, he was breathing heavily” when he found him.
The ambulance could not reach the body of Ahmed immediately because tanks and soldiers were continuing to shoot and it was too dangerous to approach the area.
The ambulance was forced to back away because of the continuous fire.
The entire time the father of Ahmed was crying, “I want to see my son! I want to see my son!”
Ahmed was still alive when he reached the ambulance.
The day after, we went to the mourning tent and we met the families of the two victims.
Ahmed’s mother did not stop crying. I remained seated with her and the other women of the family, silently, I was speechless at so much pain.
Then we went to the other mourning tent. Here, the brother of Mohammed, Zahor Abu Auda, told us that the two young men were catching birds to sell them for pets.
If they were lucky, they made 100 shekels from the sale of the birds (100 shekels are equivalent to about 20 euros).
His mother can’t walk, Mohammed took care of her.
Zahor told us, “Let the world know that the Israelis killed a man that was only trying to get money to live. The Israeli forces, supported by the Americans. kill people in Gaza regularly and nobody hears about it, the world is silent.”
Missile fired by an Israeli Apache during the attack
Meanwhile we knew that Israeli spokespersons were spreading the story that the two victims were armed militants and that they were about to place explosives in the area of the border.
These Israeli declarations and their powerful influence on the mass media induce a feeling of powerlessness. Members of the families and friends told us that Mohammed and Ahmed were not part of armed groups.
Mohammed and Ahmed were civilians, they were just workers.
We join the appeal of Zohar, and we will continue to give a voice to the people of Gaza so that the silence will never completely obscure all of this pain over the agony of the mothers and over the bodies massacred.
Rosa Schiano is a volunteer with International Solidarity Movement. You can read more of her writing at il Blog di Oliva.
Every Tuesday we gather next to the half destroyed Beit Hanoun Agricultural College. At eleven o’clock, we set out into the no go zone. This week there were about thirty of us, members of the Beit Hanoun Local Initiative, the International Solidarity Movement, and other activists from Gaza. At eleven o’clock the megaphone starts to play Bella Ciao and the flags are hoisted in the air, soon we start to march down the road into the no go zone. Today feels strange, something is different, there is only one body in the sky, the Israeli blimp that constantly hangs over Beit Hanoun watching our every move is missing, today only the sun is over us in the sky, the sun and some Israeli F16’s.
Entering the no go zone is always a strange experience. First, you always remember the danger, Israel claims the right to shoot anyone who enters the no go zone, every week, someone is shot for doing what we are doing. They are shot for going to their land, sometimes to gather cement to rebuild the houses shattered during the massacre the Israeli’s call Cast Lead, sometimes searching for metal to recycle and sell for a few shekels, sometimes shepherds with their sheep. The no go zone is like a dystopian future, the people who used to live there have all been expelled, they live as internal refugees in the prison that is Gaza. When you walk in the no go zone you are sometimes reminded that people used to live here, you find shredded irrigation pipes, wells, the foundations of houses, and today, for the first time, I saw an old quarry that used to provide rocks for building. The orchards and fields that used to cover the no go zone have been thoroughly erased, there is no more evidence that they even existed. In 1948 the Zionists plant forests to hide the ethnically cleansed Palestine villages, in Gaza, they do not bother, they just grind the evidence up under the treads of bulldozers. The orchards have already disappeared, there is no trace of them, most of the houses have disappeared, with time even the wells and the remaining foundations will slowly be ground to nothing. Only the quarry will remain. The land here is not like the rest of Gaza, walking is difficult, the bulldozers have left it completely scarred, jagged mini hills and ridges are everywhere.
Today, we walk deep into the no go zone. Deeper than we have ever gone before, to land no Palestinian has been on since 2000. Sometimes it feels like a nature walk, instead of watching out for tigers or lions we watch out for jeeps or tanks. We finally reach the barbed wire that lays about 20 meters in front of the wall, there is no way through it. A smaller balloon than the usual one begins to rise over the wall. Sabur Zaaneen from the Beit Hanoun Local Initiative speaks, “We would like to welcome all of the activists who have to come to Gaza with the Miles of Smiles Convoy, I hope that many more activists come to Palestine to work in the towns and refugee camps of Palestine where they can confront the state terrorism of Israel directly.” We climb a nearby hill and plant a flag. We spot a jeep; it drives up to the concrete tower embedded in the wall. The soldiers climb the stairs and begin to shoot at us. We begin to walk back to Beit Hanoun. The soldiers climb down from the tower, get in their jeep and drive to higher hill overlooking the no go zone. They get out, and aim their guns at us again. It does not matter that they are under no threat, that we are a completely nonviolent demonstration of civilians on their own land. In Gaza, the occupation is reduced to its most basic, the tracks of bulldozers and the crack of rifles. The bulldozers erase all evidence that anybody ever lived there, the rifles erase the people that live here. We will not be erased. The olive trees that we plant in the no go zone will feed the children of Gaza. The martyrs will live on in our hearts. The popular resistance will outlast the occupation.
“Madleen refuses to sleep by herself; she will only sleep in her parent’s room” says Nujoud, “she’s afraid to be by herself at all. The other day we were in the garden and I asked her to go to the bedroom to bring something. She refused to go without me.”
Sabri with his mother Nujoud Al Ashqar (Photo: Palestinian Centre for Human Rights)
On 17 January 2009, at approximately 05:30, the area surrounding the UNRWA school in Beit Lahiya came under attack from Israeli forces. The area was bombarded using both high explosive, and white phosphorous artillery; white phosphorous is an incendiary chemical which ignites on contact with oxygen, its use in civilian populated areas violates the principle of distinction, and the prohibition of indiscriminate attacks. Nujoud Al Ashqar, along with approximately 1,600 others, was taking shelter in the school at the time of the attack. Nujoud sustained severe head injuries as a result of the bombing, and also losing her right hand. Two of her sons Bilal, 6, and Muhammed, 4, were killed in the attack.
When PCHR first spoke to Nujoud in the aftermath of the attack three years ago, her life had become extremely difficult, particularly her relationship with her husband, Mohammed. “At first my husband blamed me for the death of the boys. He used to threaten me every day that he would re-marry” says Nujoud, “but things have got better between us since the birth of our daughter Haneen. He loves her deeply and she loves him.”
Nujoud’s daughter Haneen, 1, was both a blessing and a severe challenge for Nujoud, who, despite being thankful she was able to give birth to another child after the loss of Muhammed and Bilal, is faced with extreme difficulties caring for herself, the household and her children given the loss of her arm and other medical difficulties following the attack. “I get most frustrated when trying to care for Haneen” says Nujoud, “I need help form my daughter Madleen all the time to care for her. I always feel sad for her because she sacrifices so much of her education to care for the house and her sister. But I need her to do it” says Nujoud. “Her grades in school have suffered as a result. It’s made worse by the fact I find myself with no patience to help her with her school work anymore since the attack.”
Madleen was herself in the UNRWA school at the time of the attack and faces difficulties with both the memory of that day and the loss of Bilal and Muhammed. “Madleen refuses to sleep by herself; she will only sleep in her parent’s room,” says Nujoud, “she’s afraid to be by herself at all. The other day we were in the garden and I asked her to go to the bedroom to bring something. She refused to go without me.”
Nujoud shares Madleen’s fear of the past and apprehension of the future. “Sometimes when there are rumours of a new war or Israeli incursions Madleen will start asking me about it and speaking of the incident. But I can’t bear to talk with her about what happened and I just ask her not to talk about it.”. The memory of the attack remains so moving for Nujoud that she does not speak with it to anybody. “Sometimes visitors will come over and ask to hear about that night. I don’t talk to them about it though. If I do I will spend the rest of the day and the whole night going over it in my head.”
Apart from the loss of one hand Nujoud has been left with severe pain in her head. When PCHR spoke to her three years ago she would wear her head scarf everywhere, including inside the house, as she had lost all her hair due to severe burns. “Now most of my hair has grown back” says Nujoud, “except for small patches due to injuries, but still when Madleen combs my hair I’m in agony.”
The loss of Bilal and Muhammed is especially painful for Nujoud. “I could never forget my children. If I stayed alive for 200,000 years I would not forget them.” Bilal and Muhammed were always a huge pillar of stability and support in Nujoud’s life. “When I used to get angry with my husband I would want to leave the house and go to my family. Bilal and Muhammed would calm me down and get me to stay. Now, when my husband and I argue, I just go to my room and think of them.” For Nujoud’s husband, Muhammed, who is deaf and dumb, the loss of Bilal, who used to help him communicate with others outside the house, was also devastating.
With another child on the way, Nujoud is hopeful for her health and for another baby boy in the future, who she also plans to call Bilal. “Me and my husband had been waiting for Bilal, he was so dear to our hearts, I hope to have a son so I can name him after his brother.”
PCHR submitted a criminal complaint to the Israeli authorities on behalf of the Al Ashqar family on 18 May 2012. PCHR have received an interlocutory response noting receipt of the original complaint. To date, however, and despite repeated requests, no further information has been communicated to PCHR, regarding the status of any investigation, and so on.
“Can I go to a court to restore my sons? No” says Mohammed. “What is the point in bringing the soldiers who killed my sons to justice when there will simply be more and more after them? When others will lose their sons as well? Soldiers commit these crimes because they know they have immunity.”
Mohammed Shurrab (Photo: Palestinian Centre for Human Rights)
On 16 January 2009, Israeli forces positioned in the al Fukhari area, south east of Khan Younis, opened fire on the vehicle of Mohammed Shurrab and his two sons Kassab, 28, and Ibrahim, 18, as they were travelling back to their home during the Israeli-declared ceasefire period. Mohammed was injured and crashed the car, his two sons were subsequently shot as they left the car. Israeli soldiers refused to allow medical access to the area, and Kassab and Ibrahim bled to death on the scene over a number of hours. There were no military operations in the area at the time.
For Mohammed Shurrab (67), life since the death of his sons has been a contact battle to fight back the memories of the day. “I try to keep busy in every moment. I read 4-5 hours every day. These books you see on my wall have all been read 2-3 times each. The rest of my time I work on my farm, tend to my crops and care for my live stock”, says Mohammed, pointing to the two new born sheep that arrived only two hours beforehand. Despite his best efforts to distract himself, however, Mohammed seems resigned to a life of remembering. “Until I get buried bellow the soil I will continue to suffer, agonising over my sons.”
Mohammed is adamant that he hopes that time will come sooner rather than later, “everyday I hope to join my sons. The only question is how I do so. I am a religious man and believe in God, taking my own life would be against my beliefs, but I believe it’s better for me to join my sons. I am waiting to die.”
His farm, which is on the edge of the Israeli imposed buffer zone along the Gaza – Israeli border, is a hideout from the sights, sounds and issues that bring memories of his sons back to him. “I left my wife and my daughters to come here and live in peace. My wife is very sick. If she is reminded of the incident she will start to scream like she is not human, she cannot breath, she sometimes losses consciousness. I cannot bear to be around her when she is like that.”
Despite his best efforts to escape, however, Mohammed is reminded by the smallest detail. “This time of year is the hardest. Everything reminds me of that day. The crisp air, the crops that grow, the dark; everything about this time of year takes me back to the incident.” Much like the parents of many others who lost their lives during the Israeli onslaught, Mohammed finds it especially painful to be around those who are around the same age as his sons. “I was at the wedding of my young cousin recently. He is the same age as Ibrahim would have been if he was still alive. I couldn’t stop thinking of all the things that he could have done with his life if it wasn’t taken from him; education, marriage, children, now he can do none of this.”
Muhammad has suffered both mentally and physically as a result of stress and physical injuries incurred due to the shooting. Shuffling slowly and carefully around his farm house home, his physical symptoms are obvious. “I had severe damage to my neural system as a result of the attack,” says Mohammed, “my balance is now destroyed.” Lifting his top to show the long scar running down his back where he had surgery to repair his injuries Muhammad says his ability to fight infection and illness has deteriorated since the attack. The stress he feels as a result of his experience has left him unable to sleep and he is forced to take sleeping pills to steal a brief 4 to 5 hours of sleep every night before waking very early in the morning.
Soon, Mohammed’s remaining sons and daughters will be fully educated and independent. Mohammed says when that time comes his work is done and there is nothing left keeping him from the afterlife. “The moment my children say we need for nothing, that’s it, I have done everything I am responsible for, I can go,” says Mohammed. “The good times have gone, they will not be back. I hope for nothing”. When asked what his greatest fear for the future is, Mohammed replies; “my fear is a future.”
Regarding the pursuit of justice within Israeli courts Mohammed is scornful. “Absolutely not; the soldier who killed my sons did not act in a vacuum. He had permission from his superiors. What is more their crimes are ongoing. Stories like mine are not isolated incidences.” Any redress in Israeli courts, for Mohammed, were it forthcoming, would be irrelevant in any case. “Can I go to a court to restore my sons? No” says Mohammed. “What is the point in bringing the soldiers who killed my sons to justice when there will simply be more and more after them? When others will lose their sons as well? Soldiers commit these crimes because they know they have immunity.”
PCHR submitted a criminal complaint to the Israeli authorities on behalf of the Shurrab family on 19 August 2009. To-date, no response has been received.
A collective of students in Gaza has formed the Palestinian Students’ Campaign for the Academic Boycott of Israel (PSCABI). These students are seeking to expand their collaboration and participation in events and activities with solidarity activists at international universities.
