The story of Saeed Abu Salah

by Laila El-Haddad

Saeed Abu Salah is a patient man. Judging from all he has endured during the past four years at least. Abu Salah-40 years old with graying hair and eyes the color of chestnuts, and 20 children from separate two marriages-lives in Gaza’s northernmost region in the farming town of Beit Hanun-nearly as far north as you can go without being killed as so many have.

He is less than a kilometer away in fact from the border with Israel-and the fence and wall that bulldozers, active even as we spoke and visible in plain distance, were building.

Directly across from his house, at the end of an unpaved dirt path that used to lead to his 40 donom cattle ranch and citrus groves-now inaccessible and razed to the ground- is an Israeli lookout tower, resting atop a large mound of sand just across the border. It is equipped with a camera that monitors the family’s every move even as we speak, and a sniper, who every now and again fires “warning” shots at us.

“He doesn’t like you being here, as a journalist. Its normal-he shoots day and night, but particularly when visitors come” explained Abu Salah matter-of-factly, of the unseen sniper, whom he talks about with unenviable confidence and the seemingly intimate knowledge of a close acquintance.

Still, Abu Salah is unflinching in his determination to stay put, asserting that he will only allow Israeli troops to drive him out, which he says they have tried to do so many times before, “over his dead body”.

The UNDP estimated the damage done to his farm, which one employed over 30 Palestinians, at nearly half a million dollars. All he got in return was a zinc-sheeted shed, shielding little more than a wounded horse. “We just can’t afford to buy any more cattle. Or plant any more trees. Why should we? The Israelis will just destroy them again,” he says, staring at the forboding and ever-present tower in the distance. His family used to be self-sufficient, but since his farm was razed, he now has to rely on working for a local contractor once a week for money.

He greets me with tea and sweet, strong coffee as he displays his “museum of Israeli war artifacts”-a room full of 55kg tank shells that we can barely lift together, which he has decorated with artificial flowers; an arch, neatly trimmed with a line of Israeli bullet casings; and a photo album he keeps of all the damage done to his ranch-including his sniped cows, lying dead alongside each other, their intestines spilling out of their bloated stomachs.

“It’s as if they wanted to say, ‘this could be you’” he said, his young children peering through the iron-barred window in front of us, and the smallest, piercingly blue-eyed child giggling under his arms. “They used to be so afraid-the young ones still are. Now, they have gotten so used to it that if we don’t hear shelling, we think something is wrong. They are always firing at us, and when not firing, then shelling, and when not shelling, hovering over us with F-16s and drones, mocking us, provoking us, trying to show us that we are surrounded from all sides and that we have to eventually leave.”

There are no clinics where he lives. No grocery stores. Nothing is allowed. His wife is expecting anyday now, but Abu Salah is worried an ambulance may not be allowed in.

“Since Israeli forces declared the area-including my home, a buffer zone a few months ago, dozens of heavy shells fired by either Israeli tanks or warplanes have fallen in the area, wounding my 21-years old son Eid in his right arm, inflicting severe damage to my modest house and casting panic in my children’s’ hearts” explained Abu Salah, lifting his son’s wasted arm, left with little more than base muscle and stubs of fingers.

“I am not a Hamas supporter, but let me say that we’ve given enough concessions-and whole decade of concessions for free. The PLO decided to recognize Israel and what did recognition bring us? Have them recognize our rights first, our freedom to live, our right of return, then surely, we will recognize their rights.”

At night, Abu Salah and his family become prisoners in their own home, unable to move for free of being shot by the faceless sniper.

“This is our existence. This is our reality. This is our fate. And we will bear it out, but never another hijra (exile)-I will stay here till they bury me in my grave.”

For more of Leila’s writings from Gaza her blog

Destruction and Defiance in the Shadow of Bethlehem

The Rabah family, including 8 children, are now homeless, after the Volvo earth-movers tore through the back of their dwelling while family members scrambled desperately to remove furniture and other items. Another home nearby was also levelled, two more examples of an ugly Israeli tradition that occurs on average 2-3 times each month. A teacher in Bethlehem, Hadr Rabah tells me that the village is very united against the Occupation, so there is no shortage of people offering to take in family members temporarily at least. When I asked why the earth-movers left the front of the home intact, his reply was “they were afraid of the electric”.

It’s not hard to see why Israel desires this land that overlooks Jerusalem and a couple of illegal settlements that used to be parts of Beit Jala and Walaja. As one neighbour -himself in receipt of a destruction order- said…”This land is beautiful, so Israel needs it”. Another neighbour
explained that the Israeli government …”needs to have the ground without the people”. In the distance towards Jerusalem, I could see the zoo, complete with giraffes wandering in their pen. After a couple weeks in Hebron, listening to Tel Rumeida settlers refer to Palestinians as pigs,
dogs, and animals, I couldn’t help but see the parallel: The Israeli government sees the West Bank as their zoo for Palestinians, complete with walls, fences and gates…except they would rather you did not visit. I realize the comparison is primitive and unflattering, but I think it
reflects the unwillingness of Israel to see the Palestinian people as teachers, doctors, shop-owners, students, mothers and sons.

I stood with the Rabah family as they explained how Israeli officials had been out repeatedly to photograph and survey the area around their home and many others in al-Walaja. I felt awful, but was encouraged to take pictures to record and report the flattened home and the young people sifting through the rubble for household goods. Another local teacher added her thoughts
about the effects on young children when they witness such events at a young age. She told me that it is very difficult for the children of Walaja to sit in their classes and focus on education while there is such upheaval in the community at the hands of the occupying authorities. “Imagine what a two-year old will grow up like”. Why is not the entire village crowded
around the ruins, embracing the family? “It happens so often. If they stand here now, will that change things? People still have to go to school and to work. If I stand here until 12:00 tomorrow, will it be any different?”

When homes in al-Walaja are destroyed, it often means olive and orange trees
fall as well, but what is left standing is defiance.

What I saw in Jericho or Olmert’s Election Campaign

By Neta Golan

British Chris and I beginning our attempted entry. We were stopped minutes later
British Chris and I beginning our attempted entry. We were stopped minutes later.

Jericho Tuesday March 14th
After a four-hour walk around two Israeli checkpoints and an illegal Israeli settlement, we arrived in Jericho to find that the neighborhood around the compound surrounded by Israeli jeeps and Palestinian children throwing stones at them. We asked the kids for directions. After sizing us up for a while a young Palestinian guided us through the side streets to the closest point to the compound as possible where journalists where filming the attack.

As Chris from Britain, C. from IWPS and I were approaching the city we could here shelling and a helicopter from a long way away. When we got to the site of the prison and governmental compound we saw that the it was “U” shaped and the external building that was visible to us was burning and completely destroyed. We were told it had been shelled by a helicopter before we arrived.

Destroyed external building
Destroyed external building

The prisoners and Palestinian prison employees had been cornered into a room inside the middle of the “U” by the Israeli military who were destroying the building around them after the British and American guards abandoned the prison.

While we were getting organized to attempt to join the prisoners that were being attacked, the external building was shelled by a tank at least four times. The military were calling on the prisoners to surrender on an amplifier system.

The sound that worried us the most was a very loud and very low rat-tat-tat-tat that we thought was some kind of heavy machine gun fire. Later we discovered that it was a rock compressor or “congo” machine used to break up rock. Behind the destroyed external building the rock compressor and a similar machine with a shovel on a long arm were being used on the wall of the room where the prisoners were.

We tried in vain to contact the people inside the compound by phone to tell them we were coming in. We knew we were running out of time so despite our tiny number we stocked up with medical equipment and some food, raised our hands to show that we were not armed and walked as quickly as we could in the direction of where the prisoners were. Soldiers screamed at us to stop but we continued. We were directly in front but still hundreds of meters away from where the prisoners were when soldiers that had left their jeeps on foot caught us.

After being caught I lay down to prevent them from easily removing me. Thanks to the nonviolent techniques we teach in training it took three soldiers about ten minutes to handcuff me with plastic handcuffs. They succeeded by one of them pressing his knee down hard against my throat and two other solider grabbing an arm each. I could see Chris on the floor up against a jeep behind me.

When I refused to move the commander left two soldiers to guard me on the spot. He told them in Hebrew “If any one comes out of the building shoot him. Shoot in order to hit. We are not playing games. The games are over.” He repeated: “Any one that comes out of the building shoot to hit!” The fact that they came out of their jeeps to chase us and stood right in front of where the prisoners were for such an extended period indicates that they knew that they were in no danger of getting shot at.

The solider guarding me and I were there at least ten minutes until Border Police came to carry me away. When the Border Police unit commander approached my guard he asked him in Hebrew if the “fat” ones were still in the building. He was told not to talk next to me and he switched to Arabic and asked the same question.

Four border police carried me into a jeep and then brought Chris in with his hands cuffed behind his back. We were sure they were taking us to a police station but they stopped at a checkpoint outside of Jericho and told us we could go.

On the way back to Jerusalem we heard that the prisoners and the rest of the besieged people had all been arrested. What people on the ground said was that the wall of the room that a prisoners and the others were in was demolished leaving them exposed to the Israeli soldiers, who ordered them to walk down one by one. That explained the too-strong machine gun-like sound that we heard: it was a rock compressor against the old stone walls of the building. The prisoners had no weapons. The Palestinians trapped inside the prison did not surrender and walk out of the building. The building including the room they were in was destroyed around them.

The room the prisoners were cornered in and arrested from.
The room the prisoners were cornered in and arrested from.

According to AlJazeera.net, two Palestinian security officers including Ibrahim Abu al-Amin were killed and 23 other people were wounded in the raid. The Palestinian people and the Arab world were humiliated enraged and betrayed. The chances for a viable Palestinian Authority (not to mention state) and the trust in international mediators was destroyed while chances for retaliation attacks increased. The rift between the west and the Arab world has grown wider. All for the sole purpose of Olmert’s election campaign.

The Ridiculousness of Tel Rumeida

by Katie

Here are a few incidents that happened in Tel Rumeida over the last few weeks. Keep in mind that these anecdotes are only a tiny fraction of the daily insanity happening here.

I don’t even blink…

The other day the soldiers at the IOF post near the Beit Hadassa settlement were detaining every single Palestinian man who walked by for up to 45 minutes for ID checks. Why ? “Security.” This is the generic answer you hear when you inquire about any outrageously unfair practice against Palestinians. Part of our work here is to try and get the men released sooner rather than later because the soldiers usually don’t detain the men for as long when we’re pressuring them. It was out of the ordinary for the soldiers to be detaining everyone who passed so I decided I was going to try to warn people to take a different route around the IOF post so they wouldn’t be detained. From down the street I could see a man I knew pretty well and I motioned for him to come over and talk to me. I told him the soldiers were detaining everyone and that he should go around and tell everyone he knew to avoid that IOF post today. What happened next just totally broke my heart because he replied “no, it’s ok, we’re used to it.” This kind of thing is so normal here that people just accept it as part of their life, but its not normal. It’s racist and unfair and it makes me so crazy to see it happening everyday. Even still, I’m getting resigned to it as well. The first time someone pointed his gun at me and cocked it, I was a little bit freaked out, now it happens so often I don’t even blink. I just laugh.

A baby or a bomb?

There’s a metal detector at the checkpoint going into Tel Rumeida that everyone must pass through. Because pregnant women and teachers don’t pose a security threat, the soldiers have orders to allow them to go through a gate instead of through the metal detector. This is so they don’t get X-rayed everyday which is unhealthy if you are pregnant or trying to become pregnant. There is often a lot of hassle about this policy because soldiers will say they don’t know about the order, or they will make the women wait around for a long time or they just refuse to let them through the gate all together. When the soldiers refuse to let them through, I have seen women leave the checkpoint in order to take another route into Tel Rumeida so they don’t have to pass through the metal detector. This takes them three kilometers out of their way. Recently I saw an obviously pregnant woman waiting at the gate for the soldier on duty to let her through. The soldier was ignoring her and she motioned for me to come over and help her. I asked the soldier if he was aware of the order to allow pregnant women through the gate. He replied he had heard of no such order and that if she wanted to get into Tel Rumeida, she would have to go through the metal detector. He told me he couldn’t be sure if it was a baby under her dress or a bomb (!) This is the kind of insanity that makes me almost freak out, but freaking out at the soldiers doesn’t usually help so I took a few breaths and called the nice lady at Machsom Watch, an Israeli human rights organization that monitors and intervenes in checkpoint harassment. Usually when I call her, whoever is being detained is let go, and sure enough, a few minutes later the soldier got a call and he let her through.

Call the Moussad, they’ve built a house…

Settlers drive cars in Tel Rumeida. Palestinians are not allowed to drive cars in Tel Rumeida. Why ? “Security.” Roadblocks have been set up on roads going into the Palestinian controlled area of Hebron to prevent Palestinian cars from entering or leaving Tel Rumeida. One of our neighbors recently finished building a beautiful house here. When asked how he and his family brought the building materials in to build the house, he explained that they had to bring everything in by wheelbarrow. It took two years. The house is at the bottom of a steep hill and right now the family is building a concrete wall to protect the house from rocks or debris that may fall from the hill in bad weather. They need a car to transport sand and gravel to build the wall. In order to do this, first they must move the concrete roadblocks at the entrance to Tel Rumeida in the middle of the night and second they must distract the soldiers so they do not hear the car. Last night the young men in the neighborhood had to act really loud an obnoxious in front of the soldiers so that they would not hear the car being driven a block away. The next day, the Moussad (secret police) came to ask questions about how the sand and gravel got there. My fellow Americans, your tax dollars go to pay for special missions such as this.

While venting my exasperation about the situation here to F, he told me that compared to the way things were at the beginning of the intifada in 2002, it’s like paradise now. Back then there was a 24 hour curfew that lasted for 100 days. This meant that no one could leave their house unless the army gave them permission. If they were caught in the streets, they would be arrested. I am totally in awe of the restraint and patience demonstrated by the people of Hebron.

Another Fallen Friend and Martyr

The death of Tom Fox and a true test of solidarity
By Joe Carr

I first met Tom Fox in Chicago at a Christian Peacemaker Teams’ training and we became good friends through our work together. He was a father with children about my age, and was like an uncle to me.

He was my team’s coordinator during my month in Iraq. Shaggy, a young Iraqi friend and translator, nicknamed him “Uncle Tom” because of his paternal but playful manner. He provided a calm and steady presence, and an open and compassionate ear. His warmth and humor helped me to hang on through my depressing and fearful time in Iraq.

I remember the comforting sound of Tom’s recorder, which he played in place of his clarinet. I will miss the mornings when he led worship, often in the silent Quaker tradition.

Tom was truly committed to maintaining an international presence in Iraq despite the danger. He understood the privilege we have in being able to choose whether or not we face violence, a choice denied to Iraqis, Palestinians, and poor people of color around the world. His commitment to solidarity led him to Iraq, to share in some of that risk.

Dozens of Iraqi bodies show up in Baghdad each week. Many are killed by US-sponsored death squads, trained to use brutal counter-insurgency tactics against militants and civilians alike. In the chaos of occupied Iraq, thousands of Iraqis have been kidnapped for profit. But we only hear about it when it happens to internationals.

I was standing with 23-year-old American activist Rachel Corrie when an Israeli soldier intentionally drove over and crushed her to death with a US-made Caterpillar bulldozer. A month later, I was with 22-year-old British activist Tom Hurndall, helping to move Palestinian children out of the line of Israeli sniper fire when that sniper purposefully shot Tom in the head.

The three-year anniversary of Rachel’s murder is March 16, next Thursday, and activists around the world will host events to commemorate her life and sacrifice. But we will also commemorate the thousands of Palestinians who’ve given their lives to the struggle, over 3,500 since September, 2000.

Activists are also gearing up for demonstrations next weekend to mark the three-year anniversary of the invasion of Iraq. As we mourn for Tom Fox, let us remember the 100,000-250,000 Iraqis murdered by US occupation forces, and the 15,000-17,000 Iraqi hostages, held without charge in US and Iraqi detention facilities.

The loss of my comrades hurts very much, and it scares me to be so close to our few western martyrs. But my pain and fear only deepens my sense of solidarity and determination to continue their legacy of struggle.

Iraqis, Palestinians, and oppressed people everywhere are fighting and dying for freedom, and it’s long passed time for Americans to join them.

Let us grieve for our loss, together with families everywhere who’s loved ones have fallen. Let us also continue the legacy of Tom Fox, Tom Hurndall, and Rachel Corrie, to build a global solidarity movement for peace, justice, and freedom.

Let us see to it they do not die in vain.