Category: Journals

Volunteers with the International Solidarity Movement are encouraged to write personal reflections about the work they engage in with Palestinian communities, the events they experience, and the people they meet. These journals offer the human context often missing in traditional reports or journalism. These articles represent the author’s thoughts and feelings and not necessarily those of the International Solidarity Movement.

“Shebab and Jeish” – A New ISMer’s Journal From Beit Ummar

by Ernesto

July 4th: We got into the West Bank with no hitches.

Unfortunately, I did not get to visit the old city of Al-Quds or Jerusalem, like I promised folks back home I would. I will when I get the opportunity. Around a dozen of us, internationals – from the U.S., Ireland, Scotland, Sweden, and Denmark – along with Palestinians who live outside of the West Bank, crossed into the West Bank and were trained to integrate into ISM, the International Solidarity Movement.

Although the Israeli press recently announced that the army would close the West Bank to internationals, there are a surprising number from various countries working in different organizations. ISM’s purpose is to support communities that are resisting the Israeli occupation using non-violent direct action. There are many ways to resist an occupation, many strategies, many tactics, and it is up to Palestinians to decide which one’s are acceptible and most effective for their own liberation.

Palestinians have invited internationals to support non-violent direct action through ISM and that seems to make the most sense for us as allies. It is quite a challenge and it very humbling to learn about how Palestinians use non-violent tactics in the face of such virulent aggression from settlers and the Israeli Occupation Forces. You need to participate in it to understand it.

A few blocks from us in Ramallah, there is a memorial for a shaheed, a martyr, who used armed struggle to fight for the liberation of Palestine. He was shot dead on a corner [on the 22nd of June]. The Israeli Special Forces who killed him let him bleed to death from his wounds. He could easily have been captured and given the proper medical care but instead he was killed like a dog in the street. The images of this patriot are posted throughout the neighborhood and on the corner he was killed there is a solemn place for remembrance. Being there I thought of Filiberto Ojeda Rios, commander of the Ejercito Popular Boricua – Los Macheteros. Fliberto, a grandfather and Puerto Rican patriot, was gunned down in the doorwary of his home, where he lived with his wife, violently ending 15 years in clandestinity. Seeing the posters and memorial of this Palestinian martyr helped me recognize that although I have not visited Puerto Rico since Filiberto’s death, I am not far removed from those who die for freedom, they are all around us.

Filastine has many Filibertos.

Before our training was over, we received calls that there was need for internationals to come out and support farmers and activists fighting for their land. We immediately responded to the call and headed to the community as allies. Others went to Bil’in, a community that has built an outpost defying the apartheid wall and are helping plan the weekly protest action.

On Monday July 3rd, in Beit Ummar, a farming town near Hebron, Palestinian farmers and landowners have been laying down in front of bulldozers tearing up their land in order to expand settlements. This project is part of Israel’s land grab policy in the Occupied Palestinian Territory. We learned that an elder’s leg was broken by Israeli Occupation Forces and that Musa, a local activist, had risked his life by laying under a bulldozer in order to stop it. Three international activists were detained for hours and released in the middle of the night.

That evening a group of us received them, we met with Musa and the popular committee, and decided to confront the bulldozers the next morning and attempt to halt the uprooting of trees and tearing up of farmland.

Today we headed out to the site of the struggle and were greated by children (shebab) on the street, on bicycles, standing in stoops, staring curiously, and far less curious adults. Musa led us into the orchards and over a ridge where we were confronted by two pieces of machinery, a bulldozer and a backhoe, and about 15 soldiers (Jeish). We wanted to stop the destruction of Palestinian farmland, the machines wanted to destroy Palestine, and the soldiers wanted to stop us. These young Jeish began to yell, push, and beat us. They directed the majority of their wrath towards Musa because he is Palestinian so we attempted to protect him using our bodies. They grabbed him and hit him causing him to fall and we hugged him and tried to aid him and tell the soldiers he was hurt and there was no reason for such violence. We are aware that there is a rich history of Jeish killing Palestinians, but they need to be a hell of a lot more careful with internationals. They pulled us off Musa and beat us but the worse thing was they detained him. He is now in the hands of Shebak or Shin Beit, the Israeli secret police, according to the Israeli military.

Please read the ISM website for more details and ways to help: www.palsolidarity.org

Shukran, I am fine, and will write more when I get the opportunity. There is so much to tell and so much to do, it is difficult to strike a balance.

Friends, please read these words and share them and find ways to do something concrete to change the conditions here… Salam.

A Letter From Gaza

They will never stop doing this as long as the US and Britain support them. They cut the electricity and soon there will be no water to drink. Sonic bombs are something that make you feel like you are going crazy! Please do something about them, at least! Hold demonstrations or whatever.

I don’t know what to say. They will destroy houses and do many nasty things, as usual. You can come here and work with us! It’s a job for many people. You must come here to evaluate the truth and the facts. Believe me, they are not doing this for the sake of the kidnapped soldier. Before that they killed families trying to have fun on the beach.

I know that you are happy watching the Mondiale. But thre are some people who hope that that you will support us. Children are more afraid now that they will loose their parents. They think that what happened to the girl on the beach will happen to them, anytime and any place. I can’t even reach Gaza because they destroyed the bridges between the north and south of the Gaza strip.

Please, at least, pray for us. I really know that you want to do something but you can’t. Still, I wanted to tell you about what is going on here. They may enter my village today or tonight and I’m trying not to imagine what could happen. I’m writing this email very quickly because the electricity may be cut before I finish it…

Electricity Cut, Bridges Bombed, Sonic Booms Continue

by Leila El-Haddad


Gaza power plant destroyed by US tax-payer funded Israeli F-16s.
Picture from the Palestinian Center for Human Rights.

Israeli F-16s bombed Gaza’s main bridge, right next to my father’s farm, between northern and southern Gaza. They have also destroyed Gaza’s ONLY power plant, and electricity in most of Gaza has been cut off as a result. I’ve just spoken to my grandmother in Khan Yunis, who confirmed the entire Strip has plunged into darkness, with people stocking up on food and supplies. The electricity of course has also been cut off in hospitals and clincs, though I’m not sure how long the generators can last.

Friends in Gaza City also tell us that terrorizing sonic boom attacks have resumed, stronger than before, full force, by low-flying jets breaking the sound barrier throughout the night over the civlian population-illegal in Israel, the united States, and most all of the world.

Friends and family in Gaza have told me they are bracing themselves for the worst, while praying for the best. In Rafah, the refugee camp that has not been spared the wrath of the Israeli Army on so many occasions in the past, where 16, 000 Palestinians lost their homes to armoured bulldozers, families have holed themselves indoors, fearing for their lives.

Israel has taken control of the border area, including Rafah Crossing, and the Airport. Colleague, friend, and activist Fida Qishta with whom I toured the northeast US is on her way to Egypt, where she will have to remain until she will be allowed to enter her home in Gaza in Rafah by Israeli forces, who have sealed off the Gaza Strip in its entirety. I was worried about her safety, since she is from Rafah, but I received a frantic telephone call from her in London airport where her flight was delayed, and where is making plans to remain exiled in Egypt. Meanwhile, journalist colleagues have told me that CNN and BBC crews from Jerusalem were also not allowed through the Erez Crossing into Gaza yesterday.

Gaza Tonight


One Hamas leader was killed yesterday when Israel bombed a car near the President’s home- picture from Al-Jazeera News

By Mona El-Farra
from From Gaza, With Love

It is 7am, June 28, 2006. This is an update in the morning from last night. It was very dangerous for me to reach the computer. The power was cut off. I stayed on the floor with my son and daughter. We didn’t sleep at all like all the residents in Gaza Strip. While trying to get some hours of sleep, we did not manage. The jet fighters sonic bombs started showering us. It is very loud and horrifying noise, they are continuing their attacks.

I contacted the hospital several times: no casualties yet. The operation is going on in different parts of the Gaza Strip, but it is focused in the south: Rafah. I have no idea about the casualties.

We are really surrounded with death and expect death all the time. The disengagement of the Israeli army last September left Gaza people facing their destiny alone, with the full control of the Israeli occupation army outside the Gaza borders. The disengagement and building of the wall in the West Bank, did not bring peace to Israelis.

It is 1:30am, June 28th. The operation against Gaza, is continuing. The Gaza Bridge has been destroyed. The jet fighters are still in the sky hitting many targets. The Gaza power plant was hit by at least 7 missiles. I can see a big fire from my window and hear the sirens of emergency vans. The gun boats started shelling too. I live by the beach.

It is 10.30pm. June 27th. I am writing while the jet fighters are in the sky, with their horrible sound, bringing death and horror. I am still like everyone: waiting. I will not go to bed tonight, most of us in Gaza will not. I prepared my emergency bag, left it next to the front door. The hospitals declared high emergency status, the medical facilities resources are exhausted, and limited due to the sanctions.

We experienced all sorts of Israeli aggression in the last few months and throughout the Intifada. Since Ehud Olmert took over the government 4 months ago, 85 Palestinians were killed, economical and political sanctions were imposed and people here in Gaza have nothing to lose. Maybe they have only their chains to lose; they are frustrated and do not anticipate or look forward for any hopeful horizon.

I hope Israel will not go ahead with their operation into Gaza, the outcome could be horrible, the resistance movement is going ahead with their preparation too, but the balance of power is obvious to which side, any way Israel with Palestinian resistance or no resistance is attacking us all the time, but this time will be different, and in the process many civilian lives will be lost. I am listening to the local radio. It seems that the operation started in Khanyunis, the artillery started shelling, under the cover of Apache helicopters and jet fighters. I am able to write now, but I do not know what will happen next- the power might cut off soon.

A few hours ago, Mohammed and Sondos (my dear kids, I pray for the safety of all the children of the world, including Israeli children) had a narrow escape during their way home; a car exploded 150 meters from my home, close to the president’s home. One person died and 4 injured, I cannot help feeling worried. I am, after all, a mother. I shall stay strong.

Tomorrow I am going to the Red Crescent society office. We are supposed to get some medications to be used at Alawda hospital for the emergency department that was stopped at the closed borders. I am hoping to get it through with the help of WHO. I am not sure if we shall receive them in time, but I shall keep trying. Alawda Hospital is inside Jabalia refugee camp. Two weeks ago, it received the Galia family children, who lost their parents during the beach incident. Alawda hospital medicine supplies are enough for one week of routine use. If the operation continues and the casualty numbers increase, a health disaster will follow. I am just warning, since I am a doctor. The airplane’s sound in the sky is getting louder. I shall keep writing, it is big relief for me.

Vacation in Balata refugee camp

by Lucretia R.

I decided to take a vacation to Balata refugee camp and give art lessons to children there. I hadn’t been there since the invasion in February and I recently completed a portrait of Ibrahim, a boy who died while I was there and I wanted to give it to his family.

Because of all the roadblocks and closures, just getting from Hebron to Balata is an ordeal in and of itself. I took a service from Hebron to the junction near Bethlehem, another service to Bethlehem to meet up with my friend Chris, we crossed through the Orwellian Bethlehem checkpoint which is built around the concept of no human to human interaction between the people trying to get through and the soldiers giving them permission or not. You can’t see the soldiers, they’re behind tinted, bullet proof glass; you just hear them barking orders over a PA system at you in Hebrew.

Next we took a service to Jerusalem, got off and took another service to Qalandia checkpoint, got off, took a service to Huwara checkpoint. Ah Huwara, my least favorite checkpoint in all of the West Bank. Going through isn’t difficult but coming back out can take hours. Last time our friend Mohammad Farraj, a filmmaker, tried to leave through Huwara on his way to the airport to catch a plane to a film festival in the United States, soldiers refused to let him and told him if he tried to go through again, they’d put him in jail for six months.


Huwara checkpoint

All in all, it took three and a half hours from Hebron to Balata, a distance of 40 miles. This was about the best you can expect if you are an international. If you are Palestinian it would take longer.

Balata is a town of ghosts. You walk down any street and the ghosts stare back at you from the walls of all the buildings. These are Balata’s martyrs and this is how the residents of the camp choose to remember them. It’s a strange feeling to come back here and recognize faces of people you never actually met.

We stayed at Mohammad Farraj’s house. He’s a friend of Chris and I’d talked to him via email about coming to the camp and doing art projects with the children. The first person I saw when I walked into Mohammad Farraj’s apartment was Mohammad Issa, the brother of Ibrahim whose portrait I had brought with me. I’d never met Mohammad Issa formally in person but we had corresponded quite a bit over email while I was working on some paintings illustrating life in Balata. He was pointed out to me the day after Ibrahim died and I had never seen anyone with so much pain on their face in my life. I instantly recognized him and introduced myself. I told him I brought the portrait of Ibrahim for him and his smiling face instantly fell. I felt like shit. It took an hour before he finally asked to see it. I couldn’t look at his face for at least five minutes after I gave it to him. He didn’t speak for about five minutes either, he was just staring at the painting. I was trying really hard not to cry and feeling a bit ridiculous since I was sitting in a room full of Ibrahim’s friends and I was the only one who was losing my composure. Nobody said anything for awhile. Finally he told me, “Thank you, you gave me the feeling that he was alive again. It’s amazing.”

Ibrahim is the only person I have painted a picture of in life and in death. I never got a chance to scan the portrait I gave to his brother. Maybe next time I am back there.

Later we went to Mohammad Issa’s house and he gave the painting to his mother. She thanked me and told the story of how he died, how she heard screams and found him on the roof with his best friend who was killed by the same bullet. Her other son was also with them, he had been shot in the leg. Mohammad Issa asked very matter of factly, if I would like to see the pictures of the two boys at the morgue. It was almost as if he was asking if I would like tea. I don’t like to see pictures of dead people but I felt like it would be rude to say no. Their eyes were half open.

After leaving the Issa’s house we went to the neighbor’s of Mohammad Farraj. They were a very sweet family who made us coffee and asked us how the situation in Palestine is reported on in the US. I told them people have absolutely no idea what is going on here. It never ceases to amaze me, the warmth and friendliness of people I meet in places like this. There’s not one family in Balata that doesn’t have a horror story of their own, yet they are so kind and welcoming. Ahmad, one of the sons, about 15 years old is missing all of the teeth on the right side of his mouth where he was hit with shrapnel. His face is also mildly disfigured.

There was gunfire on and off all night. Mohammad Farraj promised nonchalantly it was only Palestinian fighters shooting in the air. At some god-forsaken hour we all woke up to the sound of a bulldozer. I never found out what that was about.

The next day at about 10 AM we bought felafel sandwiches for 11 boys and girls, put them in two taxis, drove them out of the refugee camp to a playground in Nablus where I gave them an art lesson.

I asked them to draw pictures of their daily life and this is the result. It was heartbreaking and at the same time it was really fun to be able to give these kids something fun to do, something they were so grateful for and also to be able to play with them in the park. We all had an great time. It was a much needed break.

I’m sitting here looking at these adorable kids and I’m wondering if any of these boys are going to live past 30.

Haroun says:
“I drew the army and the martyr Khalil and some boys who threw stones at the jeeps and the sun.”

Amal says:
The soldiers killed someone who is sitting in front of his building. And some helicopters were shooting the building.” She wrote: “We will return to our homeland and our original life.”

Noor says:
“I drew my cousin who was killed by the Israelis. Some men are carrying the Palestinian flag.” She wrote “occupied Palestine”

Asil says:
“I drew houses very close to each other. There are some soldiers who killed a martyr and soldiers who would not let the ambulance take the martyr away. People in the building are crying.”

Dalia says:
“I drew my house, a tree, a Palestinian flag, Israelis, jeeps, two people, a martyr and a sun.” She wrote: “The sweetest flag is the Palestine flag, we hope the situation is fixed soon, inshallah. My mother, don’t cry, the days will come back to Balata camp.”

At 4pm we left Balata. I plan to continue doing art lessons with the kids here. If anyone is looking to save the world I urge you to come to Balata and start a summer camp there for the kids. They need it so much.

Ahmad the 15 year old neighbor of M.F. walked us to our taxi. He had a necklace around his neck with about six tiny pictures in it, sort of like a locket. I asked him about it, he said they were his friends.

I knew they were all dead.