Category: Journals - Page 37 - International Solidarity Movement

Armed settlers occupy village land in Hebron

14th March 2014 | International Solidarity Movement, Team Khalil | Arab ar Rashyaida, Occupied Palestine

On Tuesday 11^th March 2014 villagers from Arab ar Rashyaida, 15 kilometers (10 miles) west of Hebron, noticed that a large tent and industrial digger had moved onto a hill top on a villagers land. ISM Hebron was called and accompanied local people and Palestinian activists to confront the settlers.

On arriving at the village, the demonstrators parked on the opposite hill and made their way through the valley to the settlers’ encampment. The settlers were armed with automatic hand guns, assault rifles, and dogs to protect the illegal camp. Resistors confronted the settlers in a non-violent way while settlers took photographs on the phones of all the protestors. After a short time a settler armed with a machine gun and dressed in black with his face covered climbed a wall and started to insult a Palestinian activist, stating that he would kill other Palestinians. The activist responded with in a raised voice matching his righteous indignation at the Zionist’s hateful comments. The army soon arrived and attempted to move the protestors from the construction area. On many occasions the leader of the settlers took the soldiers to one side to make suggestions. A proposal was made that, if the settlers camp is dismantled, the protestors can leave and take the matter up in court, but this was dismissed.

Masked settlers and soldiers on Palestinian occupied hill (Photo by ISM) — Masked settler and soldiers on the Palestinian occupied hill (Photo by ISM)

Soon a high ranking military officer arrived and was presented with ownership papers from a villager which date back 130 years. The officer told him that the settlers had ownership papers too (presumably not quite so old!). Meanwhile the settler, with his face concealed, had made his way across to the Palestinians’ cars with his aggressive dog following. A small group made their way across to stop him damaging the vehicles. On seeing the Palestinians approach, the settler made his way down to a taxi driver, that was waiting to drive the ISM team back to Hebron. The Palestinians feared that the settler would attack the taxi driver, so the group drove down the hill to support him. The armed settler then made his way back to the constructions site. Sometime later the Israeli police arrived and arrested the activist who had argued with the Zionist armed settler, who had complained that he was physically attacked. The Palestinian went with the Police peacefully and was later arrested and charged with the assault. Activists exchanged video evidence and the prisoner was released on bail with a payment of 2000NIS. We await a trial date.

Arab ar Rashyaida is extremely vulnerable to occupation by settlers. The land surrounding the village is designated as “Intended Nature Reserve” under the Oslo Interim Agreement, and as such is under full Israeli control. The strategy of building outposts on Palestinian land as a seed to develop illegal settlements is well established and supported by the Israeli authorities, despite the fact that it breaks International Law and the 4^th Geneva Convention.

Madleen Kolab, Gaza’s only fisherwoman

9th February 2014 | International Solidarity Movement, Charlie Andreasson | Gaza, Occupied Palestine

I have seen her standing there more then once, at the edge of the port, looking out over the boats in the harbor and then towards the horizon. And for a short second, I have seen myself, when as a child I took my bicycle down to the harbor just to stand at the pier and gaze, for a long, long time, at the boats that disappeared beyond the horizon, and wonder what was beyond that line. And I have briefly asked myself if she does the same. But she is not a child, she is a young, adult woman. A strong woman.

I asked a good friend to arrange a meeting with Madleen Kolab, 19 years old and Gaza’s only fisherwoman, for an interview. Later, she would reveal this was only to tell me face to face tell me that she does not give interviews. For almost two years, she has declined all requests from journalists because they, as she says, only writes for their careers. But she decided to make an exception when she recognized me and knew that I was involved in the rebuilding of Gaza’s Ark, and thus in work for Palestine. Her firm look told me that she was serious and I felt honored, but also a little embarrassed, and was grateful that I could lower my eyes towards my notepad.

When she was six years old, she already accompanied her father when he was fishing, and she knew early what her coming profession would be. She loves her work. It gives her a sense of freedom to be on the sea, and she was careful to point out that nobody forced her to become a fisherman. Her rapt answers to my questions, that she never needed any consideration, unwavering eyes and lack of hesitation left no doubt or room for me to think otherwise. I could not doubt her word when she said that the other fishermen respect her as an equal colleague. It was only after I stressed that women all over the world find it difficult to break into an extremely male-dominated industry like fishing that she confessed she too has been fighting for her rights, and has been treated with prejudice, but that has now changed.

Madleen is the eldest of four siblings. She fishes with the younger of her two brothers on a hasaka, a small open boat, with an outboard motor. Earlier she had a type of boat she needed to paddle. Now she has the opportunity to go to deeper water and get somewhat better catches. Besides, it is safer. But she has been attacked by Israeli patrol boats, and she says it has been common for bullets to whiz around the boat. Once she feared she would be arrested, but when the Israeli soldiers discovered there was a woman on board the boat, they ordered her to instead head back to the harbor, obviously unsure of how they would deal with the unfamiliar situation. Madleen knows that will not save her forever, and she avoids the edge of the group of boats that go out, preferring to fight over the catch with others than try to get a bigger share for herself in more open water. But she also knows that when the Israeli military has decided to take a particular boat, it will also be the one they separate from the others.

I asked her about the escalation of violence. In January, thirteen attacks on fishermen were carried out, one at the six nautical-mile limit and the others three or less than three nautical miles from the coast. She knows from experience that if it is allowed to go out six miles, the Israeli navy keeps them within five miles, and when they were officially allowed to go only three miles, it was in reality only two. But Madleen believes they now attack so close to land because it is a high season and Israel wants to make it difficult for Palestinian fishermen to support themselves. This view is consistent with those of fishermen I have talked to after they were temporarily arrested and had their boats and gear confiscated. And the Israeli military know they can continue their abuses, since the world is not protesting.

But what would she do if there was no blockade? Would she leave Gaza? Madleen did not hesitate. She would stay. Palestine is her home. But she would fish further out, away from the overfished and shallow waters. And she wish that global society could make Israel stop the illegal and inhumane blockade. Fishermen themselves cannot. And as Madleen rightly points out, they have the right to fish in their own water. Right now, everything is like a dark dream, she continues; the future seems bleak. Still she hopes that one day they will be free from the blockade. And to hope is the only thing they can do.

Her phone rang. Someone wondered where she was. Madleen had never meant to be away for any length of time, and she asked me if I had any more questions. I took a few photographs of her and thanked her for her time. Before she left, she offered her help to launch Gaza’s Ark back into water. But I think I will see her again, standing there at the edge of the port. And it strikes me that I never asked that question, what she thinks about when she gazes towards the horizon.

Why does Israel treat Gaza farmers sowing wheat by hand as military targets?

28th December 2013 | International Solidarity Movement, Charlie Andreasson | Gaza, Occupied Palestine

December is the time for farmers in the Gaza Strip to sow. But for those with fields near the Israeli separation barrier, it is highly dangerous. Sure enough, we were met by news that an 18-year-old was shot an hour earlier when he was checking his bird nets here in Khuza’a in the southern part of the Gaza Strip. To sell small birds can earn a few bucks, but also makes the hunter the hunted. This one was lucky. For him, a day’s hospital visit was enough.

That our presence and our yellow vests are desirable cannot be mistaken. Without any directive, some of us get up on the tractors as protection for the drivers while the rest form a row between the field and the Israeli barrier. Here the open fields were once interspersed with olive and other fruit trees, trees devastated by Israeli bulldozers. Now they can only plant wheat, a crop that grows without daily care.

The fields to be plowed were not large, and after they been sowed, we came closer and closer to the fence. We saw the barbed wire rolled out in large circles before the fence, the towers with machine guns, the large mounds of dirt and tanks coming up behind them, the military Jeeps that stop for a moment before continuing. But we also saw the green fields behind all this, where irrigation is permitted. The contrast is great.

The work takes us closer and closer to the barrier. Activists with yellow vests still sit on tractors, but the rest of us are no longer in a row. We are now very close to the fence, so we walk directly beside those sowing by hand. It would look funny at any time, in any other part of the world, but here it is deadly serious. Maybe 70-80 meters from the fence, the ground is completely disturbed by bulldozers and tanks. Deep traces of crawlers are everywhere, some of them made earlier in the week, we are told. The tractors cannot plow there, and the farmers are not trying, either. And they can only hope that the Israeli soldiers will not tear up their fields and plow down the wheat before they reap. It has happened in the past and will most likely happen again.

Done for the day, we walk back. Not a a single bullet has been fired at us this time. But I find one in the ground, one that didn’t find its target, and show my Israeli souvenir for the others. But no one reacts significantly. Someone strikes out with his arm over the fields: there are plenty of different kinds of ammunition fired here.

I try to understand how the soldier who shot early that morning reasoned. What made him shoot? Did he feet that he did his duty, believe that he erased a potential threat to the state of Israel? Did he get a pat on the shoulder from his commander, or backslapping by his peers in the barracks? When he comes home, will his proud mother serve him his favorite dish, and will his father open the forbidden cabinet to invite his to taste something stronger now then he has become a man?

But above all, I wonder what makes them think that farmers who sow by hand are really a threat forcing the soldiers to shoot them. What makes them so afraid that they take shelter in bulletproof guard towers or tanks. How the State of Israel can be protected by bulldozing Palestinians’ fields and destroying their crops. And how to get an entire nation to believe that these farmers are a threat to their existence. I do not understand it. But I understand that our presence can mean the difference between life and death.

Metaphor in Gaza

23rd December 2013 | International Solidarity Movement, Charlie Andreasson | Gaza, Occupied Palestine

Hundreds greet freed detainees at midnight rally in northern Gaza Strip (Photo by Charlie Andreasson)

You stand below a dam because you have discovered cracks where water leaks out. You try to seal them with your bare hands, but they are not enough. The pressure is too high, and the cracks too large. And you scream for help, to let people know what is happening, stop the pressure from the inside before the disaster happens. But no one listens to your warning, and no one seems to want to see the water that wells between your fingers. Some even claim you are exaggerating. And you stand there,not daring to move your hands, wondering how long you will be able to hold back the pressure, how long you can keep calling before your voice fails. This is the metaphor that best describes the frustration activists here feel from time to time, a frustration we have to deal with because it cannot pass in dejection.

To be an activist here is not just to go with farmers into the “buffer zone,” or out to sea with fishermen, more or less as human shields: to try to seal the cracks with your hands, if I am allowed to continue using the metaphor as an explanatory model. Far more time is spent interviewing victims, gathering information, going to demonstrations and writing articles, to call for help and draw attention to what is happening. And it is mainly during the search for information that you unwittingly also look for something to show that a change is afoot. One’s eyes skim through title after title, then suddenly it’s there, the article that makes you pause. Standing below the dam, you notice a change among those high above you. Maybe now something’s finally starting to happen. And you feel relief and joy, and share the news with all the activists you meet.

Most recently, on 8th December, Dutch Prime Minister Mark Rutte had planned to inaugurate a container scanner at the Kerem Shalom checkpoint, but called off the whole thing when it became apparent that the scanner would not, contrary to Rutte’s assumptions, facilitate and thereby increase the movement of goods between the Gaza Strip and the West Bank. Israel is determined to keep these two parts of Palestine separated from each other.

On the same trip, Dutch Foreign Minister Frans Timmermans refused to accept an Israeli military escort in the 1967-occupied territories, instead canceling his planned visit to Hebron’s older neighborhoods. Other foreign ministers have recently visited them without military escorts, and Timmermans did not accept the new conditions to avoid creating a precedent.

Netherlands, you are great among activists here now. Upright, a standard-bearer for human rights, the defender of the Geneva Conventions. Only days later, we read that the Dutch water company Viten ended a partnership with Israeli water company Mekorot. Also on Rutte’s trip was Dutch Minister of Trade Lilianne Ploumen, whose visit to Mekorot the Israelis abruptly canceled. Perhaps this was because Dutch media had revealed that the same company was denying Palestinians water, but we may never know.

Netherlands, you are a light in the darkness, and may other nations follow that light. You demonstrate that there is a political space to maneuver to bring about a change. And now Romania denies its citizens work in Israeli settlements in 1967-occupied territory. Salvation is close, you can stop shouting now, and soon you will no longer need to keep your hands over the cracks.

But we are deceiving ourselves, and maybe we need to do it to not be dejected. For while we focus on the good news, we shut our eyes, at least temporarily, to the bad, which is much more plentiful, and more serious in nature. As the UK develops a new type of drone with Israel, and Italy expands its cooperation on several levels with the aforementioned occupying power, that members of the Knesset already have started congratulating each other for the peace talks that do not seem to lead anywhere … the list is grows longer every day. And when we go out on the streets of Palestine, we see that nothing has improved. Do average people here know the Netherlands stands up for them? Do they react the same way we do to the news??

People here are hardened. They believe in a change only when they see it. They’ve had enough empty promises to stop dreaming. And that’s why they pay tribute to every Palestinian who returns from an Israeli prison, no matter what he or she has done – armed resistance, political activity, being in the wrong place at the wrong time – because this person tried, in a concrete way, to change the situation. That’s all that counts after the betrayal of all who walk above, without giving a thought to the cracks you frantically try to seal. They are about to be drowned further downstream from the dam. And we continue to cry out for help.

Gaza has all the potential it needs, with one exception

16th December 2013 | International Solidarity Movement, Charlie Andreasson | Gaza, Occupied Palestine

Long beaches with white, soft sand. A swim in the warm and clear waters. Surfing. Water skiing. Diving among wrecks from Roman times. The allure of small rays’ silent flights, and the luck of seeing turtles and leaping dolphins. Beach cafes with plaited palm leaves as protection against the sun. Restaurants with seafood, caught in the golden light of dawn. Or historical walks among remains from the Roman, Persian or Ottoman eras. A quiet walk along the narrow streets, visits to markets, meetings with friendly, smiling people.The Gaza Strip, the Palestinian coastal enclave, has the potential for all of this, with one exception. The occupying power does not permit flight lands in to Gaza. They have even bombed the airport to prevent it. And they use military force to prevent every attempt to get here, or out, by boat. The fishermen risk their lives, their boats and gear, their livelihood, every day. The freshly caught fish or shellfish may never land on your plate. And bringing in materials to build those restaurants is highly uncertain.

It could have been so beautiful here. It could have been so rich. But it is not allowed. And virtually no exports are, either. The economy is crippled. For a month and a half, the only electrical plant stood still, was there was no longer money for fuel. Six hours a day, eight if you’re lucky, there’s electricity supplied by the occupying power and Egypt. Perhaps it would be romantic to have a meal of seafood delicacies that were never delivered in a restaurant that could not be built by candlelight, but it would not be a place for students to do their homework. Or for those who have to wade through sewage when streets are flooded because there is no power for the water stations. A Venice of wastewater. The clear sea water has become turbid with wastewater that can not be purified. And the beaches as littered as the streets.

And I wonder: By what right do make these people an exception? Exceptions from human rights. From the right to fish in their own waters or farm their own land. From developing their economy. Perhaps this is what the outside world wants. Perhaps this is why the protests are so timid. And people here knows that the world has turned its back on what is happening. Still I meet friendly, smiling faces, people that wish me welcome in Gaza. It could have been so beautiful here. Long beaches with white, soft sand. Beach cafes with plaited palm leaves as protection against the sun. The potentials exist. All except one.