Category: Journals - Page 32 - International Solidarity Movement

Fishing in Gaza

3rd September | Charlie Andreasson | Gaza, Occupied Palestine

We sailed out from Gaza City’s harbor just before dusk with the 13-man crew, including two boys, and we had a theoretical possibility to reach six nautical miles for fishing. But that the limit determined by the occupying power would have been moved from three to six miles is mostly a play with words.

After the previous war that ended two years ago, the limit was moved to six nautical miles, which was again reduced to three, only two days before Israel launched its operation ‘Defensive Edge’ no fishing was allowed at all.

For those who are engage in kiddle, hook fishing, it has been a definite improvement, and it is likely that even trawl fishermen will be able to get better catches, so the question was how it will turn out for the once fishing with purse-seine, who primarily are fishing after sardines.

We are more or less cruising out from the coast, following the sonar display closely. It shows nothing but the structure of the bottom, the screen is black, no sign of fish.

The crew are every now and then checking for the red light from the Israeli patrol boats, wise from experience that they attack whenever and wherever they want, not bound to the limits or agreements.

Rade Bakr, the skipper, has been arrested four times in the past and his boat has been seized. Over time he has managed to recover his boat, but he does not want to be arrested a fifth time, not just for his own sake; approximately 80 people depend on the boat’s income.

Eventually, some small, pale spots appear on the sonar screen. We are between four and four an a half miles from the coast, and the captain decides that we should anchor. It is still too early to venture further out, it’s less risky to gain the waters back bit by bit then demanding rights from somebody behind machineguns. None of the crew are protesting, no one feels compelled to be the first with this type of boat to risk everything.

As the anchor is resting on the ground barely twenty meters below us, the machine shuts down and the big generator on deck starta, the headlights around the boat lit up to attract the fish, turning the sea around us a shimmering blue. Some of the crew take the opportunity to fish with a hook during the hours we are there, catching small red-backed fish, one of the two young boys comes with freshly made coffee, ever smiling and ever ready to do whatever the others want.

Food is laid out on the deck, and we sit in a large circle, each one leans forward to the bowls in its midst. Occasionally the crew are watching over the reeling, scouted by the bright light, and out to the dense darkness. It is difficult, almost impossible, to catch sight of anything under such conditions. It’s more like a reflex. I do not ask what they are looking for.

It’s time to throw out the purse-seine. The eco sonar shows more spots now and they are all bright. No orders have to be given, everyone knows what to do.

The skipper takes his place in one of the accompanying boats, a small hasaka (small fishing boat), and turns on its headlights to hold the fish while the now darkened boat lay the purse-seine in a big circle around the hasaka. So starts the heavy work of hauling in the net, with most of the crew standing barefoot on the deck.

Suddenly the catch is laying on the deck, plastic boxes are picked up and sorted by types and sizes; predominantly small octopus but also small crabs, some odd varieties, and very little anchovy, which is supposedly the main catch. And the catch is not large, perhaps 60 kilograms in total.

We anchored with headlights and some of the crew let down their hooks again, the ever smiling boy comes with a new coffee. The hours elapse, most are trying to get some sleep. So it’s time again, but this time it will be more dramatic. One of the crew has caught sight of the red light and is pointing it out to us. The Israeli patrol boat may well be outside the six-mile zone, but its presence is sufficient enough to spread alarm on board; it would only take patrol boat a few minutes to get where we are.

I feel that the crew are trying to haul their gear even faster than before, and I see that they all have complete awareness of where the red light is located. We cannot leave until the gear is on the deck, minutes pass, everyone is trying to assess whether the red light approaching or not, but in the end the catch is hauled in. It was leaner than the last time, the proceeds will not cover the costs. This would have required four or five loads. And to get plenty of fish, they need to be 9-10 miles out from the shore, still Palestinian waters, although they’re excluded from it.

This time, it was enough that the soldiers aboard the patrol boat lit a spotlight towards the fishermen so they would leave their own water, often the Israeli patrol boats do much more.

Self-healing in Gaza

29th August 2014 | Sarah Algherbawi | Gaza, Occupied Palestine

Sarah Algherbawi is a Palestinian citizen who was born in Saudi Arabia in 1991 and now lives in the Gaza Strip. She finished her BBA degree in Business Administration at the Islamic University of Gaza, and now works as a media project coordinator.

The killing and bombing is finally done. Yet I don’t think we in Gaza will feel like the war is truly over for a long period of time, if we ever can.

The killing is over but the pain of the missing dead is not.

The killing is over but the injures are not healed.

The killing is over but the houses are no longer standing.

The killing is over but our souls are not yet cured.

This is the third war I have witnessed in the last five years of my life. I wish I had never had to experience this, but it just happened, and all I can do now is to deal with the pain…once again.

My first experience with war was in my last year of high school, the year that is critical to anyone’s future. It wasn’t easy to go back to school and study again, it wasn’t easy to throw all the pains and bad memories behind my back and continue life normally. It took so long…but I did it, and I passed that year with satisfactory results.

The second war, I was a university student; I faced the same dilemma of not being able to get back to university and study. It needs an awakened brain to do so, and mine was not! It was full of dark thoughts and the constant question, ‘how could I survive again?’

This third war has been the most difficult. Now, I’m an employee. I have to deal with things faster to best do my job. I grew up, and realized that every time it only gets more and more difficult to accept and deal with such situations. This time, I think it will take too long for me to get back to life.

It takes too long to get used to the city’s new face, to not feel guilt every time we laugh, to not fear the sound of a door slamming…to dream of things other than death!

I write this, and I didn’t experience the loss of any loved ones, thanks to god, and I’m in a good health…but I can’t stop thinking of those who lost. Some lost everything and everyone, others lost their beauty, their vision, the ability to hear, and parts of themselves that can never be returned. They lost a life that they will never have again.

The war is over but to the survivors it has merely begun. I was jailed in my house for 50 days, it feels strange to deal with people again, to carry out the routine work we used to do…the simplest aspects of life are the most difficult now.

I didn’t experience death. But now, I have the belief that many things can be more painful than death.

For someone who is homeless, who lost the ability to walk, to hold a pen, to see the light, to hear the voices, to live with their love…for those and others, death would be mercy.

All we can do, all we have to do, is to try to continue, to heal our injuries, to heal our souls, our brains, and hearts…to heal the broken…and try to live, once again!

Injured and forced to walk

27th August 2014 | International Solidarity Movement, Khalil team | Hebron, Occupied Palestine

It was a warm Saturday night in late August in al-Khalil (Hebron). For the Palestinian children school was starting the next day, and a feeling of anticipation and excitement for a new year of learning floated over the hot Palestinian night. A group of ISM members were invited to a barbecue with a local activist organization, which we happily attended.

After eating, I went with a group of from the organization that invited us, to a nearby kindergarten for Palestinian children from the neighborhood. The kindergarten had been created in an empty house last year so young children would not have to pass through a checkpoint everyday on their way to school. We went to bring some toys, clean up, and prepare for the coming invasion of toddlers. When I, along with the rest of the activists, wanted to leave the kindergarten again, three settlers from one of the illegal Israeli settlements of Hebron appeared and blocked the entrance. They accused us of bringing in building materials to the kindergarten, due to Israeli law, building an extension is forbidden for Palestinians in the H2 area of al-Khalil (H2 is under full Israeli military civil and security). The kindergarten was created in 2013, a bathroom was built, and then demolished by the Israeli army since it was an extension to the house and was therefore ‘illegal’.

As we tried to leave a group of settlers surround us and began to yell and scream in Hebrew. One of the settlers called the Israeli police and about 10 minutes later the army arrived. They escorted the settlers away and made space for the police on the narrow path up leading up to the kindergarten. The police then quickly searched the kindergarten for building materials and left after none were found.

Following this unprovoked confrontation, we drank tea on the fake grass of the outside kindergarten floor, a football was found, and the Palestinian kids enjoyed their newly renovated kindergarten in advance. Unfortunately I fell badly fall on my left side while playing with the children, resulting in a dislocated shoulder. Of course I had to go to the hospital and an ambulance was out of the question since all traffic, other than that of the Israeli settlers and the army, is forbidden in H2 except with explicit permission from the military.

Another ISM member had previously seen how injured Palestinians were carried through the checkpoint on a stretcher after a settler attack. The ambulance did not have the right permit to pass the checkpoint and the injured were forced to be physically rushed through.

I, and three ISM friends, decided to try to walk through the checkpoint and then find a taxi. The checkpoint we needed to cross in order to reach the hospital was Checkpoint 56 on Shuhada Street. During a clash a couple of days ago the checkpoint had been burned on the inside, and it was now closed for everyone except for the army. This is a form of collective punishment as it was still possible to cross if the soldiers decided to allow it. In recent days some people have passed and other have been denied.

The soldiers at the checkpoint could easily see that I was in pain. We asked the soldiers if we could pass, since it was an emergency, and the alternative route around the checkpoint would be extremely long and demanding. The soldiers did not really seem to take much notice of our situation; it even looked like they were having fun at my expense. When we asked a soldier for his name and ID, he gave two different answers the two times we asked him, even though the soldiers are required to provide that information when asked.

The encounter ended with the soldiers telling us, with plastic handcuffs in their hands that we had two minutes to leave the area or we would be arrested – even though it is out of their jurisdiction, and we hadn’t done anything illegal. We decided it was not worth it and started the long walk around the checkpoint to the Government hospital in H1 (under Palestinian Authority civil and security control).

Now I am sitting with my shoulder in a sling; the treatment was quick and very professional. The Palestinians at the hospital were extremely helpful, showing me the different places I needed to go in order to get the right treatment. Now I cannot help thinking of how it must be to live under these circumstances, when the way to the nearest hospital is hampered by several checkpoints, manned by soldiers who do not care about except settlers and their fellow soldiers. I was lucky that my injury was not more serious; in another situation the outcome could have been much worse.

‘Legitimate’ targets

26th August 2014 | Charlie Andreasson | Gaza, Occupied Palestine

This article was published before the recently agreed ceasefire.

High-rise buildings have now been declared as legitimate targets for F-16 aircraft attacks. Yesterday evening a 16 story house called Little Italy, home to 100 families, was destroyed.

No one was killed, but around 20 people was injured, and in the few minutes between the order to leave by a recorded voice on the phone and the attack with at least six rockets, people had time to save themselves but hardly time to save any belongings. Important documents, furniture, valuables, clothing, memories – all crushed and destroyed. Likewise, the streets were filled with shattered glass caused by the shock waves several blocks away from the building.

Little Italy was not the first high-rise building in Gaza City demolished by the Israeli military, and already UN schools, hospitals and universities have been military targets. Maan News quoted the Israeli prime minister, in an article on 24/8, “I call on residents of Gaza to immediately leave any structure from witch Hamas carries out terrorist activity against us. All such sites are a target for us.”

That was after a 12 storey house was bombed to rubble. But it is possible to interpret the words a bit if you want, and it may also be deliberately. It is extremely difficult to refute allegations after a house has been turned to rubble, and false accusations have been thrown around before. The only thing one can be sure of is that there is a danger to stay in the same house as someone from Hamas, and given the fact that Hamas is the governing body, all public employees have their paycheques signed by Hamas.

Netanyahu has made the civilian population in Gaza, as well as civil infrastructure, legitimate targets for the Israeli military. It is no longer possible as a civilian to opt out of the war, to remain neutral. In Little Italy, it meant keeping track of what the other 99 families were, where they work, their political affiliations, choosing sides, and being forced to take an active position. That there is a war against the civilian population is more evident than ever. A civilian population that under the Fourth Geneva Convention must be protected during war.

There is now an additional 100 families who must seek temporary accommodation somewhere else. Somewhere where they think they know that n one is hired by those who were elected by the peolple, and where they can prove their innocence before those who receive them. They will be happy if they take care of their trash, teach their children or perform surgical operations on their parents, but living in the same building can be fatal. You cannot opt out of the war, it is no longer possible to remain neutral. You cannot as a civilian remain civil. Not for Israel.

Resistance and tear gas

21st August 2014 | Saeeda Al-Rashid | Occupied Palestine

It’s late May [2013], and the air is stifling. Heat sizzles from the pavement, and Khalili youth, though well-adapted to these conditions, can be seen wiping sweat from their brows as they trek home from school. A few trickle through Checkpoint 56 into the Tel Rumeida neighborhood, formally designated Israeli-controlled territory under the Hebron Agreement. Soldiers search their bags and detain one, but finding no reason to arrest him, release him an hour later, a routine form of harassment youth are all too accustomed to. At some point, a school-bus turns up the road. It’s labeled in Hebrew and English, “Air-Conditioned Video.” The school bus is only for settler children, whereas many Palestinian vehicles are not allowed to drive in Tel Rumeida.

The word “apartheid” is often used to criticize Israeli racism and the Israeli state’s policies of segregation. But on the street level, what does apartheid actually look like? While living in occupied Khalil under Israeli military occupation for a few months, I experienced only the beginning of the answer to those questions. The rest is in the lived experience of businessmen and women, school children, farmers and shepherds who have lived under occupation for forty-plus years.

Apartheid Defined

In his final report as UN Special Rapporteur on Human Rights in the oPt [Occupied Palestinian Territories], Richard Falk called for an investigation into the Israeli practices, broadly referred to as hafrada meaning “separation”, that could constitute apartheid under the International Convention on the Suppression and Punishment of the Crime of Apartheid. Offenses that come in conflict with the Convention include the unlawful taking of life, administrative detention, and torture, and also the segregation of land and parallel legal systems in the West Bank that “prevent participation in the political, social, economic and cultural life of the country and the full development of a racial group” (18).

This invokes a flood of memories from my short time in Palestine, including a young couple in Masafer Yatta living in a former sheep pen because the Israeli Civil Authority won’t grant them a permit to build a house; shops forced to close down during Jewish holidays so that settlers can illegally pass into the Palestinian-controlled part of Khalil; a B’tselem caseworker laughing aloud when we asked whether any action would be taken after Abu Shamsiya documented Israeli settlers’ assault on his family and was himself arrested on false charges of spitting at the nearby soldiers throwing stones and a tomato, whilst at the same time an Israeli boy of similar age threw eggs at internationals and went unpunished.

Saeeda waits outside the IDF compound with the family of a child arrested for 'throwing a tomato' (Photo by Youth Against Settlements). — Saeeda waits outside the IDF compound with the family of a child arrested for ‘throwing a tomato’ (Photo by Youth Against Settlements).

Apartheid, as Falk points out, is not a recurrence of isolated crimes; rather, “the combined effect of the measures designed to ensure security for Israeli citizens, to facilitate and expand settlements, and, it would appear, to annex land, is hafrada, discrimination and systematic oppression of, and domination over, the Palestinian people.” Apartheid is in the rain that flooded the Khalil Souq (market), ruining goods that provide needed income for Khalili families, because Israeli authorities have prevented the construction of appropriate drainage facilities.

Women in Hebron shop flooded (photo by Women in Hebron).

Apartheid is in the rocky, rat-infested paths Palestinians travel on to climb the prayer road because the main roads are only for settlers. Apartheid is in the children who inhale tear gas nearly every day on the way to school, and every family stuck in the Qalandiya checkpoint during Ramadhan, barred from entering Jerusalem to worship. Apartheid is the reason ISM volunteers on the ground believe strongly in only taking actions led by Palestinians – this is their home, and their lives are impacted every day by apartheid years after we’ve flown home to our respective countries.

Resistance and Tear Gas

Richard Falk’s final report also pointed out that persecution of those who resist apartheid practices falls under article 2(f) of the Convention. Upon investigating the types of tear gas deployed by the IDF against peaceful protestors, from an organic chemistry perspective with the help of a leading chemist who was my professor, I unearthed a plethora of information on this vile substance.

The IDF principally uses CS gas (o-chlorobenzilidenemalononitrile). Exposure to CS gas has been implicated in a number of deaths in the West Bank as well as South Korea because it’s a potent Michael acceptor, making it able to inhibit many important chemicals in our bodies including the amino acid cysteine, which can be found on the TRPA1 protein channel that mediates our continued responsiveness to a wide variety of irritants and has been implicated in the prolonged sense of irritation experienced by some who are exposed to tear gas. (This is potentially the reason biting into an onion, a popular on-the-ground treatment for tear gas exposure, also counteracts the toxicity of CS gas – the inert sulfur-containing compounds in onions serve as alternate Michael donors).

Additionally, CS and CN gas produce methylene chloride, which as a nervous depressant and mild carcinogen reaches dangerous levels at exposure above 250 ppm by the constant barrage of intense tear gas deployment I witnessed at demonstrations. Finally, CS gas has been shown to be a mild mutagen (via intercalation with DNA) and thus it is also a potential carcinogen. Much has been said about the disparity in living conditions that results from the Israeli military occupation; prolonged exposure to dangerous chemicals for not only activists who resist the wall but shop-keepers and schoolchildren intertwines with the many different ways the system of apartheid and physical and legal segregation impact the daily lives of Palestinian people.

I believe this apartheid in and of itself is violence; there is no state of peace from which the more obvious forms of violence such as stone-throwing and shootings arise. There will only be peace when real justice is served – when apartheid is nothing more than a history lesson for our children.