Category: Journals - Page 50 - International Solidarity Movement

Beit Furik, Nablus: Family unable to attend funeral for son killed in recent Gaza air strikes

by Jonas Weber

13 March 2012 | International Solidarity Movement, West Bank

“We called him Nassr, but I think his real name was Mahmoud,” says Ahmed while we were on the bus from the Beit Furik municipality building. Outside the bus window, the walls of the little town just outside of Nablus are plastered with freshly printed martyr posters. The picture shows a middle aged man photoshopped between the Dome of the Rock and the Palestinian flag.

Ali Hannini, the cousin of Mahmoud Hanin who was kiled by Israeli rocket fire.

It has just been a few days since Mahmoud Hanini was killed by an Israeli rocket while in a car in the Gaza Strip.

“He was suspected of being affiliated with a militant group in the West Bank in 2005 and was forced to flee to Jordan and then on to Egypt and Gaza where he worked with the resistance against the occupation,” Ahmed continues.

In the stairwell leading up to the Hanini residence, one of the landings is cluttered up with shoes and a somber song is playing from the apartment. The family is still in mourning. We are shown to the roof where Mahmoud’s cousin, Ali, serves us coffee and dates.

“Things are going to be hard for this family now,” he said.

Mahmoud only had one brother and eleven sisters. It will be economically difficult for them. Mahmoud also had three children in Beit Furik and two daughters in Gaza.

When Mahmoud was killed on Friday, he was in a car with Zuhair al-Qaissi, the leader of the armed wing of the Popular Resistance Committee, the group responsible for the kidnapping of the Israeli soldier, Gilad Shalit.

The body of Mahmoud Hanini will remain in Gaza, and his family will have to face the pain of not being able to visit his grave.

“It would be extremely expensive and difficult for us,” says Ali.

In the midst of military escalation in Gaza and the grief at home, the Hanini family still carry some hope for the future.

“We want to say a message to the people of the outside world: that the only thing we long for is peace. We only resist to win our freedom. This is not an issue of a conflict between religions. The issue is that Israel is occupying our lands in violation of international laws.”

The murder of Mahmoud Hanini, Zuhair al-Qaissi, and their driver set ablaze the region as groups throughout the Gaza strip responded by firing nearly a hundred rockets into Israeli territory. Most of these were intercepted by Israeli air defence, but one Israeli was killed by the rockets. Israel in turn responded with attacks against Gaza that since Friday have taken the lives of dozens of Palestinians.

Jonas Weber is a volunteer with International Solidarity Movement (name has been changed).

Thaer Abed Al Hameed Mahdi, murdered by the Siege

by Nathan Stuckey

8 March 2012 | International Solidarity Movement, Gaza

Thaer Abed Al Hameed Mahdi died on Saturday, March 3^rd, 2012. He was 23 years old. A rope snapped and he plunged down a shaft to his death. He died instantly. His coworkers Jamal Kamel Mahdi and Raed Jaber Mahdi survived, they are still in the hospital. Jamal is in the European Hospital with two broken legs and a broken arm. Raed is in Shifa Hospital. His back is broken. Three years ago Israel slaughtered almost 1,500 Gazans, and nobody was held accountable for that massacre, and no one even talks of the hundreds or thousands that have been killed and injured in the tunnels since the beginning of the siege. The tunnels that are Gaza’s only link to things like cement, whose import into Gaza is forbidden by Israel.

Thaer was just a normal young man; he wanted what all young men in Gaza want, to get married, to have a family. Those are things that he will never have. Marriage and family of his own were always a dream for him, but a distant dream. The money he earned from his job working in the tunnels went to help his own parents and his eight younger brothers and sisters. He started working in the tunnels six months ago; there was no other work to be found. His family needed the money; their only income was his father’s job as a doorman at Al Aqsa University. Money was tight. He went with his two friends, Raed and Jamal, and got a job in the place they could find one, the tunnels.

Even this job was only three or four days a week, when he got the call, he went to work. He never knew what he would be doing, unloading the cement his tunnel imported into Gaza, or working underground in the hot airless tunnel. On Saturday, the three of them went to work, they got on the seat that they rode down into the tunnel and started the descent, the rope broke, they fell. Thaer will never get married; he will never see his own children.

This is what we heard as we sat in the mourning tent with Thaer’s uncle. This was the story of Thaer’s life and death. Thaer died when a rope broke, but he was killed by the siege that strangles Gaza. His uncle said to us, “The main reason for the siege is the division between Fatah and Hamas, the division must end. The youth must be given a chance to live a normal life.”

Nathan Stuckey is a volunteer with International Solidarity Movement.

The seen and unseen in the No Go Zone

by Nathan Stuckey

7 March 2012 | International Solidarity Movement, Gaza

Today, like ever Tuesday, we marched into the no go zone north of Beit Hanoun. We gathered by the half destroyed Beit Hanoun Agricultural College and marched north, towards Jerusalem. A Jerusalem that few of the protesters have ever seen, they have never been allowed to go to Jerusalem, it is forbidden to them, just as the land in the no go zone is forbidden to them. Jerusalem and Al Aqsa are unseen. We demonstrated for Al Aqsa and the prisoners. The prisoners too are unseen; Gazans are not allowed to visit their sons and brothers and held in the prisons of the occupation. As we walked down the road toward the no go zone a giant balloon rose over the wall. We are the seen, watched from giant balloons, watched from soldiers in the towers that line the wall, seen from the sights of guns, an Apache helicopter roars in the distance. Local herders tell us that there are tanks behind the wall. For us, the soldiers who look at us through rifle scopes are yet unseen. Later, they will make their appearance. In the sky floats the black flag which flies over the occupation, most of the world refuses to see it, they refuse to recognize it for what it is, but for the people of Palestine it always floats in the sky, like the second moon in a Murakami novel.

We enter the no go zone and walk toward the flags that we have left during previous demonstrations. There are about forty of us, we have no guns, only our voices and our flags. We stop by row of flags we left last week. Sabur Zaaneen from the Local Initiative of Beit Hanoun starts to speak, “Khader Adnan told us that honor is more important than food, Hana Shalabi reminds us that freedom is more important than food, we will continue the struggle.” Both of them are held in Israeli prisons, neither of them have been charges with any crime. Three months ago few people knew who either of them were, they were unseen, but they still existed, within them both was a great power and a great determination. Both of them refuse to be oppressed in silence, their hunger strikes are calls for justice, for honor. They are inspirations to us all.

We sit down under the flags. Our goal is to spend twenty minutes in the no go zone. After only a couple of minutes the unseen Israeli soldiers start to shoot at us. Bullets whistle over our heads, thirty maybe forty of them. We stand up, retreat down a small hill and stop. The young men begin to chant, against the occupation, pledging their lives to defend Al Aqsa, an Al Aqsa that few of them have ever seen, in support of Hana Shalabi, a woman none of us has ever seen. It doesn’t matter that most of them have never seen Al Aqsa, or Jenin, or Hebron, or Jaffa, that they have never seen the homes from which their grandfathers were driven, the orange trees that fed their grandmothers, those things are still theirs, they are still inside of them. Theft does not change possession.

We leave the no go zone when we want, we are not driven out by the Israeli bullets which whistle over our heads. As we leave the no go zone the soldiers come out of hiding and watch us from atop their tower, we see them with our bare eyes, they see us through rifle sights. We have done what we set out to do today, we have tried in our small way to remind people that closing your eyes and saying that you don’t see something does not make it disappear. What is unseen is often more important than what is seen. Food we can all see, honor, none of us can see, but honor is more important than food. Al Aqsa is something that many of the people here have never seen, but it is something for which we are willing to give our lives. Justice cannot be seen, but all of us are willing to fight for it. The struggle will go on, a struggle mostly for unseen things, often unseeable things. It is a struggle for the only things really worth fighting for, justice, freedom, and peace. I have never seen Khader Adnan or Hana Shalabi but I would like to thank them both, for showing us what heroism looks like. Even those that have never seen Al Aqsa know that it is beautiful, that it is worth dying for.

Nathan Stuckey is a volunteer with International Solidarity Movement.

Introducing Bil’in: The ritual of resistance and oppression

by Sophie Van Dijk

2 March 2012 | International Solidarity Movement, West Bank

Today we went to Bil’in, a small village 17 km from Ramallah. For decades it has been harassed by the Israeli army. When the Apartheid Wall was constructed, it separated the farmers from their land.

Seven years ago, the villagers succeeded in moving the wall a bit towards the settlements again and gained back a few meters of the land where their great grandparents already lived.

Every Friday after that, there where demonstrations organized. For my friend and I, this was our first demonstration in the West Bank.
Luckily we had a bit of an idea about what to expect because the others told us about the situation.

When we arrived in Bil’in we gathered together with the villagers and went together to the place where the demonstration was held. One of the villagers we met there had been already arrested 3 times. Still that doesn’t stop him for going on with fighting for his land and his people.

We drove through the valley, it was all so beautiful, the atmosphere relaxed, and the people loving. I almost forgot that the country is occupied, until we arrived at the Wall, with barbed wire fence to protect it.

Soldiers stood behind it with their “toys,” at least that’s the way it looked.

It all started off really quiet. There was some yelling, some hanging around at the wall but nothing more then that.

The soldiers came and were looking at us from the other side of the wall at what we were doing. A few of the Palestinian boys started throwing rocks, which obviously was purely symbolic. The soldiers were far away and wore protection.

Some of the boys tried to get through the wire to the wall. A few managed to do that and started laughing and slapt the wall a bit. It was still a very friendly protest.

My friend, Mira, and I were taking videos and pictures. At some point the soldiers started shooting teargas directed at us, who were filming. Thick clouds of smoke were surrounding us within seconds. It smelled like fire works, but more sour and very sharp. I couldn’t see anything and breathing was really difficult. My cheeks and nose were burning.

After a few minutes I was fine again. Luckily Mira was able to avoid it a bit more than I did.

After this action from the military, we pulled back and stayed a bit away. After a while we went to the group again. For half an hour the situation was again like before. Hanging out, boys throwing rocks again, and I even heard one of the boys communicating with one of the soldiers.

The short conversation ended in laughter of the soldier and a few minutes after that there came a lot of teargas again, even more than before. This time it was Mira who suffered more from the gas.

When the action ended I heard that they did shoot rubber coated steel bullets at the boys, “But probably it was meant as a warning to not 0come too close to the wall,” another protester said

Even though the whole action looks like a ritual almost, it makes me more angry than I was before. Taking away the land, using weapons towards people, children even, who have absolutely nothing. The soldiers themselves are even kids, like 17 -18 years old. Just boys fighting an old man ‘s war filled with hate already from since they were born.

How crazy is that? By far, i haven’t seen the worst yet..

We will see what the future brings Free Palestine!
Boycott Israel ( bar code beginning with ” 729″ )

We Are With Hana Shalabi and Al Aqsa: Demonstration in the No Go Zone in Beit Hanoun

by Nathan Stuckey

29 February 2012 | International Solidarity Movement, Gaza

Israeli riot police have entered the Al Aqsa Mosque Compound, Palestinians have struggling to protect it for days. After 66 days Khader Adnan has ended his hunger strike, hopefully, soon, he will be home with his family. Even before his hunger strike ended the newest one had begun. Hana Shalabi, a young woman from the West Bank, was put into “administrative detention” on February 16, 2012. Like Khader Adnan she has been charged with no crime. Like Khader Adnan she finds dignity more important than food. Hana Shalabi was only recently released from Israeli prisons, freed in the latest prisoner exchange between Israel and Palestine. She had spent over two years in prison when she was released, she had not been charged with a crime that time either. These are the things that inspired this week’s demonstration against the no go zone and the occupation in Beit Hanoun.

As we gathered on the road beside the half destroyed Beit Hanoun Agricultural College the wind blew fiercely. The flags did not wave in the breeze, they were held stretched out in full. Those that did not have flags had posters of Al Aqsa. Music played over the megaphone. We marched quietly and quickly down the road to the no go zone. As we approached the buffer zone the chanting began, dozens of young men pledging to defend Al Aqsa and demanding the end of occupation. We marched to the ditch that bisects the no go zone, we stopped. Sabur Zaaneen from the Local Initiative of Beit Hanoun said a few words, “Al Aqsa is at the center of our nation, it is at the center of our life, we will not abandon it.” Sabur announced that we would symbolically join Hana’s hunger strike, for two hours we would remain in the no go zone and neither eat nor drink.

Soon, the Israeli shooting began. The first bullet I thought was perhaps the crack of a flag in the wind; there was no mistaking the bullets after that. We retreated a bit, then the young men stopped and rallied. The flag we had been standing by now had a hole in it. We walked back toward the wall; soldiers appeared on top of the concrete tower from which they had so recently shot at us. The soldiers started to fire tear gas at us. The fierce wind carried it away too quickly for it to be really effective. They started to shoot at us again. The bullets whistled over our heads. We were unarmed demonstrators, who had not so much as thrown a ball of cotton, who had no guns, being shot at by soldiers in a concrete tower. This is the only way the occupation knows how to speak, with bullets, with tear gas. We started to walk back toward Beit Hanoun, bullets whistling over our heads. We stopped at the edge of the no go zone. Some of us set down to continue our symbolic hunger strike. The Israeli bullets began again. They continued to shoot as we walked back to Beit Hanoun. The entire time the Israeli soldiers shot at us Hana Shalabi refused to eat and drink, her refusal is louder than their bullets. We will win.