Category: Journals - Page 38 - International Solidarity Movement

Interview with Saeed Amireh: “The occupation affects our life in so many ways, economically and socially.”

28th November 2013 | International Solidarity Movement | Ni’lin

Saeed Amireh is a 22-year-old resident of Ni'lin, the son of a farmer, who has been active in the popular resistance since 2003. — Saeed Amireh is a 22-year-old resident of Ni’lin, the son of a farmer, who has been active in the popular resistance since 2003.

Can you tell us a bit of the history of Ni’lin?

In the past, Ni’lin used to be part of the area which is within the ‘48 borders now. In 1994, when the Palestinian Authority came, Ni’lin became part of Ramallah city. So now Ni’lin is located exactly at the green line of 49 and about 27 kilometres west of Ramallah. The village is part of the West Bank but not under Palestinian control. It is completely area C and therefore under Israeli control.

After 1967, when the West Bank was occupied, Ni’lin has been suffering constantly. Since that time, the Israelis began to build colonies on our land, starting with Ni’li in the north of Ni’lin in the early ’70s, you can see that they stole the name from our village. Then Hashmonain in the south, Qiryat Sefer, Mattitjahu and then Naaleh. So there are five Israeli colonies. They also built an apartheid road called 446 that separates Ni’lin into two parts. Due to these constructions, the villagers have lost a great part of their land. The majority of the people here are farmers and their main income source comes from harvesting their land.

Besides that, Ni’lin has two main olive oil factories; the export is another major income. Ni’lin is famous for its olive oil production and for their cactus industry. Just like Hebron is famous for grapes, Jerico for bananas. During this period, intensified by the construction of the wall, Ni’lin lost about 5000 hectares of land out of a total of 5800 hectares, so there is only 800 hectares left. We have been fighting against this land grabbing and confiscation.

We also lost many people who were killed, injured or arrested, in some cases we still don’t know where they are. Many people have also left the area. We used to be about 12000 inhabitants, now we are only 5500 people left. They left to Jordan or to other locations in the West Bank in area A or area B, others went to Europe, the United States. Actually the majority went to Germany, mostly to Berlin.

Why does Ni’lin have Friday demonstrations against Israeli forces?

The demonstrations were a response to the construction of the wall. And we started our non violent, unarmed protest, as I told you, together with international and Israeli activists

What about the village’s struggle in terms of the occupation?

The struggle began in 2003 when the wall construction started. They began in Budrus and Ni’lin at the same time. They started in the north of Palestine until they reached our village. They moved very fast, there was not a lot of resistance on the way. The people were still tired from the repression of the Second Intifada. And since the Intifada was armed resistance, there was not room for everybody. That is the difference between the armed and unarmed resistance. In the unarmed resistance everybody can join and be involved. That makes it more powerful.

So when the wall construction continued, we had the first meeting here in Ni’lin in 2003. That was the beginning of the popular committee and the popular struggle movement in the whole of the West Bank. The first protest was in Budrus, where we joined the people from there. The soldiers were surprised, seeing how people returned to the tactic of the unarmed resistance after the Second Intifada. In the beginning it was only a few people who joined, many were afraid. During that first demonstration the soldiers drew a line and told us, anybody crossing that line, can consider himself dead. So we held each others hands, counted until three and then jumped at once over that line, of course they couldn’t kill us all.

We were soon more than three hundred, from all the villages. Seeing this, more than sixteen villages started doing protesting as well. Israel did not approve at all of the demonstrations but had to stop the construction of the wall in Ni’lin because they feared another uprising. Only after they were finished with the wall in all the other places, they returned to Ni’lin to finish their job in 2008. During that period the poplar struggle developed. We created popular committees. In Ni’lin we had a committee representing all the political parties, the farmers, several organizations and families. We started organizing our protests together with internationals, Israeli peace activists and journalists. That is another big difference to the Intifada. During the Initfada, there wasn’t a focus on media or on involving Israeli activists. They actually helped us a lot, in order to understand the Israeli military law and the occupation. They have been teaching us and have been a really strong inspiration and motivation for us. Especially the Anarchists Against The Wall, they are the best.

How has the resistance changed in Ni’lin over the last few years?

In the beginning we were so many; we were ready after the two Initifadas. But the suppression was heavy and the protesters became less and less. This is a big problem, because every struggle needs its sources of support. And without this support, a few people put in all their power until they reach a point where they can’t continue. Many people got arrested and injured and could not continue to attend the demonstrations.

Why did you begin to engage in the protests?

In 1997, I had a very significant personal experience. My father took me to the protest for the first time. We used to demonstrate against the colonies, peacefully as well. The man who organized the protest, his name was Atallah Amireh, was snipped with live ammunition in his head and in his heart. The Palestinian authority just had a funeral for him. Whenever someone dies under the occupation, we honor that person. We call them martyrs. We try to support the family and make them feel better, their relatives died trying to protect their home. Anyway, this man was shot in front of me. At that time I did not really understand why. I did not cry, but I was just astonished.

Since then my whole life has changed. Some people may ask my father, why he brought me to the demonstration in the first place. Because I was so young, I was seven and the demonstrations are very dangerous. Why would a father do this to his children? But you know, if our fathers don’t confront us with the reality of the occupation, it won’t be good for us. That is why they show us the reality of life from the beginning, so we can get used to it. We don’t live in an illusion when we are young, suddenly realizing the hard facts of life when we grow up.

You know we are a very big family. I have four brothers and three sisters. And I have lots of cousins, my brothers and sisters; they all have cousins their same age. I didn’t, so my father always took me with him. Everywhere he went, to all his friends and to all his serious meetings. All this time, I was never brought along as a child; he introduced me as a friend of his. And I also wouldn’t allow anyone to treat me like a kid. So even though I was still a child, they treated me like a man, even as a leader. Very early on, I had big responsibilities put on me.

I got my first real chance, when the construction of the wall began in 2003, which was the most recent time after the Second Intifada.

What is the current situation in Ni’lin?

At the moment, there are many arrests. We tried to resist the expanding of the colonies. We even went to the court to file a lawsuit against Ni’li, when they confiscated our land. But they are still expanding, with dozens of new houses on our land. We are unable to do anything. They are also starting to construct a tunnel. The brutality in Ni’lin also increased. There is a new commander responsible for the area here. He wants to suppress our village, because despite everything they have done to us, the shootings, the arrests, the killings of the five people, the people are tired but they don’t give up.

From January to April this year, they arrested 16 people, and then they stopped briefly, only to intensify their repression in October. They invaded the village every day, arresting more people. In total there are 42 people from Ni’lin in prison now. Despite all this, the voice against the occupation rose. A new thing is that the soldiers started to confiscate computers and other technical devices from the village, because they know that this [the media] is our weapon. In July the army asked for permission to use live ammunition from the Israeli courts, even when there are cameras filming, which they got.

In 2008, they killed Ahmud Musa, who was ten years old at that time. The soldiers claimed they had to respond with violence, otherwise it would have been considered as a sign of weakness. The murderer of Ahmud Musa was never charged with any crime.

They also try to fill the village with drugs to weaken the movement. This is causing lots of trouble in our social life.

What effects does the occupation have on your family?

I will tell you about the history of my family. We were refugees from Jaffa. We were expelled in 1948 to Jordan. Before that my family used to live in the old city of Jaffa. We came back to the West Bank in 1968. Just my grandfather and his closer family, the rest stayed in Jordan. Some of them refused to come back, because they did not want to agree to the points that were made with the Oslo agreement. They were fighters in the PLO. When we tried to come back to our land in Jaffa, we realized that it was impossible for us to do so. That is why we came to Ni’lin, which is the closest point to that area. Everything else was closed.

The first thing is that we lost all of our land in Ni’lin. We have no more land, except the land we live in, with our house and garden. We lost the first part, when the buildings of the colonies began. The biggest part of our land though lies behind the wall now. We used to have 260 dunams of land; we are now left with six or seven today.

Since we used to be farmers but didn’t have any land anymore, we had to find a different source on income and of existence. My father used to have permission to work within ‘48, that way he still earned enough money to support his family. In 2008 however, he was arrested for joining the peaceful protest against the wall and they wouldn’t extend his permission so he became unemployed. We had no more farming land and no more work, which was a very big problem for us. Since that time, several things have happened. Many of us were arrested. I was arrested, so were my two brothers and my father. My sister and my mother were injured with live ammunition. Another problem was the night raids. The soldiers used to come to my family house; they invaded it more than 25 times. They would always come in the night, wearing masks with their dogs. Once they isolated us in one room, but my little brothers, who were about four at that time, were still asleep. So when they woke up, we were all gone, locked up in one room. That was a shock for them, they started to shout and scream. This experience left a mark on them. Up until now, they sometimes pee without realizing it, because of their fear.

My mother also has developed panic attacks due to all the stress she has been going through. These attacks come in moments when she is anxious and under a lot of pressure or stress. It started during the Intifada and increased during the period after 2008, when so many of us were arrested, injured and our financial situation deteriorated. My father has been unemployed for the last six years. There is no more land, no more work left here. The occupation affects our life in so many ways, economically and socially.

The water in Gaza is not only water

22nd November 2013 | International Solidarity Movement, Charlie Andreasson | Gaza, Occupied Palestine

I was just going to make dinner when I realized the filtered water in my tank was almost done. Perhaps it would be enough if I used the last of my bottled water. But then I would have nothing to drink with my meal. And there would be no coffee, not after the food and not for breakfast. Glances at the tap, I considered diluting the filtered water with tapwater, in order to save time and to avoid having to walk two blocks to fill the tank. It was dark outside, and the shop with water might be closed.

Tapwater cannot be used for cooking, or should not be used for cooking. I avoid doing it anyway. I wash dishes in it, but do not use it to cook my rice. It’s salt. Saltwater penetrates the underground aquifier, which it is larger than the natural supply of fresh water can fill. But the seawater is not its only contaminant. According to the United Nation, chemicals and sewage also pollute it, which is not surprising when 90,000 cubic meters of untreated sewage gush out every day. Sewage, from the toilets, back in the taps. With water treatment plants, that works. But in Gaza, the problem is that there is not enough diesel to run the generators around the clock. And for those Israel has bombed, well, it also stops the import of replacement parts. Meanwhile seawater, chemicals and sewage increase in the water supply. By 2016, UN expects the water to become completely unusable. Only three years are left until then. And at 2020, no one they say, no one will be able to live here.

I open the fridge, hoping to find something that does not require water for cooking. I close it again. Maybe the store is open, but the cistern outside it is empty. It’s not just me who needs water. And some families have to spend as much as a third of their income on it. They must use the contaminated tapwater far more than I do. When I first came here, I used tapwater to brush my teeth. That was a mistake I will not repeat. But I rinse the toothbrush in it afterwards, shaking it carefully. I think that’s okay. A Swiss woman visiting Gaza asked if I drank the filtered water. It should be drinkable, but someone told me it is only filtered from salt. I do not want to find out how things are, do not want to know. I buy the more expensive bottled water. But I wash my clothes in water from the plumbing system, like everyone else here is forced to do. I wash my hands in it, my face. I take my showers in it, washing off my salty sweat with contaminated water, polluted not only by salt, like everyone else here must.

It becomes more polluted every year. The farmers have problems with it. It’s too salty for citrus seeds to germinate, and causes harvests to decline for the products that still grow. Tanker trucks drive to those who can afford to pay. Israel says it’s concerned, has plans to pull in a pipeline and talks about desalination plants, the same plants it keeps from entering. And I think about what will happen when the disaster strikes, when no one can live here, when everyone is forced to flee: a new Nakba, caused not by the force of arms but by the siege. Where can they go? Who is prepared to receive them? And what will happen then? Will Israel then will take over the empty land, this terra nullius, pumping in water, getting the desert to bloom? I hear it as an echo.

Photos: A hero returns to Gaza

5th November 2013 | International Solidarity Movement, Charlie Andreasson | Gaza, Occupied Palestine

A hero return to Gaza (Photo by Joe Catron)

What could be a more appropriate theme for this Monday demonstration for prisoners than those recently released by Israel? Would it have been possible to have a different one? Possible, but hardly appropriate. On the street outside the Red Cross, a temporary stage with a lectern had been erected and draped with banners. Loudspeakers were deployed on it, as if for a rock concert, and together with rows of plastic chairs, it effectively blocked the street from traffic.

A hero return to Gaza (Photo by Charlie Andreasson)

Speeches were made, the media were in place, and more groups joined with their banners, even some that had no representative among the newly freed prisoners. The released detainees themselves had to give speeches, which were applauded by the audience, and finally, placards were handed out.

During one of the speeches, I was asked if I was interested in coming along to the Erez crossing, or the Beit Hanoun crossing as it is called here, to witness another release, which I accepted. But I doubted I had understood correctly. It was difficult to hear anything at all because of the volume of the speakers, and it was not yet time for the next group of 26 prisoners to be released as part of the agreement for the resumption of peace negotiations.

Anyway, I stepped into a hired bus as placards were distributed for the five, who had given 20 years or more of their lives in the struggle against the occupation, and for a second time in a week ended up at the northern crossing. And though I have been there recently, everything was very different except the crowds and banners.

Now, during the day, I could even see the wall that cuts off the landscape, that according to the Israeli dialectic is not a wall but a barrier. But while we waited, a growing number of taxis or private cars, motorcycles, tuk-tuks, and even an open truck, overcrowded with people waving flags of yellow, the Fatah color, appeared. The only noticeable difference was the absence of the press. As the only westerner, and with a camera too, I could not help but notice my position was unique.

Suddenly the murmur raised to a cheer as the crowd rushed through the open gates to meet 51-year-old Mohammed Abu Amsha, married with eight children, who had just been released after seven years in prison. It was his third prison term, and he has been denied adequate medical care for his heart and lung problems. But now he was a free man, and soon he was sitting in a car followed by us, among the narrow streets in the nearby village of Beit Hanoun, while children and adults alike curiously lined the walls and hung out of windows.

Women ululated as a tuk-tuk drove forward with big, booming speakers. A large celebration tent had been raised outside Abu Amsha’s family home. Those who had not found a place in any of all the plastic chairs patiently huddled in anticipation of getting in to express their congratulations, kiss Abu Amsha and be photographed with him.

I could not melt in. I was too different, and I’m afraid I stole some of the attention when children flocked around me, curious and smiling, and asked in faltering English how I felt, my name, and where I was from. Nothing could make them as happy and proud as when I agreed to their request to photograph them. But then someone took my hand and dragged me past the line of people waiting to get into the house, up the stairs and into the reception room.

Smiling people took turns hugging and touching Abu Amsha, a man who, after so many years in prison, is forced to wait another few days before he gets to be alone with his family. For it is a great day, not only for him, but for all those who see him as a hero in the struggle against the occupation. The focus of next Monday’s demonstration outside the Red Cross is already a given.

In Gaza, hundreds of miles from the battlefield

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

The "buffer zone" is seen from the second floor of Nasser Abu Said's house in Jahr el-Deek. On 28 April 2011 the house, which stands 300 meters from the separation barrier, was shelled by Israeli tanks and partially destroyed. (Photo by Desde Palestina) — The “buffer zone” is seen from the second floor of Nasser Abu Said’s house in Jahr el-Deek. On 28 April 2011 the house, which stands 300 meters from the separation barrier, was shelled by Israeli tanks and partially destroyed. (Photo by Desde Palestina)

Drones fly over rooftops at night, awakening peoples’ memories. They may only patrol, or carry deadly cargo with them. F-16 planes draws streaks across the sky. Here on the ground, no one knows what order the pilot has for the day. Tanks raid across the separation barrier, devastating farmland. Do farmers plant more seeds, or is it too late in the season?

Boats patrol off the coast. For how many nautical miles do they allow fishing today? Enough for it to be meaningful? Or will they start shooting like so many times before, ruin fishermen’s gear, seize their boats, and take away their livelihood, forcing the men on board to strip naked and swim over to them, laughing at them, humiliating them, arresting them for trying to support themselves and their families in their own waters?

Medicine cabinets sit empty in the hospitals. Only the labels are left for antibiotics and other vital medicines. During long power cuts, only the generator in the basement of the hospital keeps dialysis patients alive. Will they get more gas for it before it runs out?

It’s a scene from a war. But the battle is not here. Nor is in Jerusalem or the West Bank.

Palestinian and international activists hold signs in support of the Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions (BDS) movement by the buffer zone in Zeitoun on 9 February 2013. (Photo by Desde Palestina)

The battlefield is in the West. That is where the war can be won. The battle is against the media, lobbyists and companies that do not have a column for people in their annual reports. Victory getting people to understand what is happening, getting them to take off their blinders, engaging them and winning their hearts . Victory is to expose the true nature of politicians who insist that some people are not people and therefore are exempt from human rights. Victory is to show the unvarnished truth , the naked truth without censorship or editing. Victory is forcing the democratically-elected leaders of the West to take responsibility.

Victory will be achieved by people exercising their power to influence, either individually or in groups. This is where the battlefield is.

Photos: A morning with the resistance at Gaza’s Monday protest for detainees

23rd October 2013 | International Solidarity Movement, Gal·la López | Gaza, Occupied Palestine

It’s 9:00 am, and today the Red Cross in Gaza City is more crowded than usual. Women, men, children and the elderly await the arrival of the resistance. In a moment, they will receive some members of the al-Qassam Brigades, the armed wing of the Hamas movement.

When the resistance members arrive, a noise of great joy spreads throughout the crowd. They distribute flowers among the mothers, wives and relatives to honor the struggle they wage, Monday after Monday, in the Red Cross.

Today more than 5,000 Palestinians are detained by Israel.

It’s important to mention that while Palestinians differ on many questions, the armed resistance, as well as the detainees, are strong points of unity.