Category: Journals

Volunteers with the International Solidarity Movement are encouraged to write personal reflections about the work they engage in with Palestinian communities, the events they experience, and the people they meet. These journals offer the human context often missing in traditional reports or journalism. These articles represent the author’s thoughts and feelings and not necessarily those of the International Solidarity Movement.

Palestine doesn’t ask for aid, but for freedom and recognition

by Emma

13 January 2012 | International Solidarity Movement, West Bank

I always knew I would go to Palestine one day. It wasn’t until I met my four friends from Gaza, Motasem, Mohammed, Hussein and Mo’min, during my time as an exchange student at a Turkish university, that I finally decided to go. Their humble and honest account of what was happening in Palestine inspired me to come and experience the situation myself. After three months in the West Bank, I wish everyone would take the opportunity to come here and see the situation themselves.

Being an international in Palestine means that you share the everyday life of ordinary people who have the same aspirations as everyone else. It’s a small act of solidarity and a way of saying, “I see you and I stand with you.” You will not only have a family and a home but also an incredible insight to a beautiful culture which most often is forgotten when headlines from this region reach the world.

Whether I’ve been up north in Nablus or down south in Al Khalil (Hebron), people have welcomed me and treated me as one of their own. Never in my life has my family been this big. Maybe because of this, the occupation seem a lot more personal to me now than when I first arrived here. Palestinians are not just Palestinians, but my brothers and sisters, friends and family.

The young teenager being detained at the checkpoint could be my brother, and the young girls who are being assaulted by soldiers on their way to school could be my sisters.

The middle aged man who tries to stop the bulldozer from demolishing his family’s home could be my father, and the middle aged woman who is quicklypicking olives  because of looming, violent settlers, she could be my mother.

The very old man who has to take the long way up the stairs carrying his bags (because all Palestinians are forbidden from entering Shuhada Street in Hebron) could be my grandfather, and the very old lady who is afraid of soldiers because they enter her home in the middle of the night could be my grandmother.

Every one of them could be family and indeed, for three months in Palestine, all of them were. When I left Sweden my friends and family worried that I might be hurt or injured because the Palestinian territory is supposed to be a dangerous place. However as I immediately discovered, Palestine is not a violent place and Palestine is not dangerous. What is dangerous and violent is the 64 year old occupation which has been imposed on Palestinians since 1948.

When I say that it is violent I want to distinguish between two sorts of violence. As an international in Palestine you see mainly the structural violence or the everyday violence in forms of military presence, checkpoints, watch towers, roadblocks, verbal assaults and harassment. If you stay long enough you will also experience or see some direct violence such as random arrests, house raids, home demolitions, prevention of Palestinian peaceful protests in form of rubber coated steel bullets, live ammunition, sound bombs, teargas and people being shot and abused.

The list can easily be made longer. These abuses of basic human rights are not only illegal under international law but very dangerous and violent both for the individual and the community. Occupation deprives Palestinians of their basic human needs, rights and recognition as human beings. It is violent and dangerous because it denies them the right to stay, live, and exist on their own land.

As such, occupation is visible and institutionalized in every aspect of life in Palestine.

I was in the beautiful and very old Ibrahimi mosque in Al Khalil, when Israeli male and female soldiers entered in uniforms, with boots and weapons among praying Muslims. In addition all Israeli female soldiers refrained from covering their hair, which is a custom when entering a holy sanctuary in Islam. Religion doesn’t have a nationality but is something that transcends borders and should be respected as part of human dignity. The choice to enter the mosque in this way meant that they not only degraded Islam as a religion, but they also made sure to violate the most important place and last resort that Palestinians can go to in order to seek some peace and privacy. And this is the very idea of the occupation. It has nothing to do with security or Israel trying to protect itself. Rather it’s a strategy of occupation which aims at making life unbearable for Palestinians so that they will move and eventually leave whatever land they have left.

Soldiers harassing Palestinians and  roadblocks, checkpoints, and temporary closure of roads are part of the strategy. It has absolutely nothing to do with security or protection. Since the beginning of the occupation, Israeli citizens are protected by civil law while Palestinians are under military law. This implicates several things. First of all, Israeli soldiers are not allowed to arrest or detain any Israeli citizen.

In the West Bank where settler violence against Palestinians has increased, soldiers in charge are not allowed to interfere with their citizens since their mandate is directed towards Palestinians only. There are several accounts where Israeli soldiers have either stood by or assisted settlers in committing violent acts against Palestinians. Second, the military law means that any Palestinian can be put in administrative detention without access to lawyer, not knowing what the charge is and how long they will be kept. Moreover, Defense for Children International (DCI) estimated in 2011 that more than 7,500 Palestinian children have been prosecuted in Israeli military courts since 2000. The report further concludes that ill treatment begins at the moment of arrest which often happens during night time military raids. The child is being abducted from the home with little or no information of where they are going. In most cases, parents are not allowed to visit their children, send them new clothes, and they get little information about their child’s well-being.

Military courts have no obligation to follow Israeli law or international legal obligations. Many reports from different sources have documented the use of ill-treatment, torture and a general failure to meet international standards in detention centers and prisons. When Israel is continuously being referred to as “the only democracy” in the Middle East, this is something we should keep in mind. For most people, abduction of children in the middle of the night and administrative detentions are a grave contradiction to concepts of “democracy.”

The question is, what more do the Palestinians have to negotiate with when more and more land is being confiscated by settlements including East Jerusalem? What should Palestinians negotiate with when not even their own president Mahmoud Abbas can leave Palestine without Israeli permission? There is something very wrong with the idea that when every peaceful Palestinian attempt at expression is being met with violence and immediate crackdown, the international community continues to stress Israel’s right to protect itself. Protect itself from what?

After three months in the West Bank, I am more than convinced that this is not a conflict nor a war–not between Arabs and Israelis and certainly not between Palestinians and Israelis. This is an occupation rooted in deep injustice with Israel as the aggressor. For every action there is a reaction. Simple as that. Just as much as Israel has the right to defend itself so should Palestinians too. Security is a mutual concept, and if the argument is that Israeli citizens have to be protected so should the Palestinians. Palestinians are the ones who have to endure Israel’s “security” measures, and Palestinians are the ones living under occupation while Gaza endures a siege. Israel is the one who is expanding settlements, building the wall, continuously demolishing Palestinian private property and confiscating more land.

Having walked under the EU sponsored metal net that is supposed to prevent rubbish, stones and liquid thrown by violent settlers from reaching targeted Palestinian pedestrians in Hebron’s Old City, I feel ashamed of being a part of an international community which allows this to happen. Of course it is easier to sponsor a net rather than coming to terms with the real problem. But Palestine doesn’t ask for aid, more NGOs, and certainly not another metal net, but simply for freedom and recognition.

A system is not static or superior to the individuals that give it power, but it is the organization of these individual capacities which create these systems. Diplomats, officials, politicians, soldiers and civilians who say they are only doing their job and are limited at doing otherwise are simply wrong.  Likewise the international community is wrong if it states it cannot do much. We’re all part of the society in which we function, and we all have a personal responsibility. We all have a possibility to do something, no matter how small that act may be.

An international Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions movement against buying into Israeli occupation should be the top priority for civil society around the world.  A boycott of Israel and Israeli products would also mean a new debate, where the international community allows Palestinians to raise their voice economically rather than us just hearing Benjamin Netanyahu’s so called economic peace plan.

As it is time for me to leave, I remember all the wonderful people I’ve met and the beautiful places and villages I visited in Palestine. Never in my life have I been surrounded by so much love and generosity as I have experienced here in Palestine.

Indeed Palestine was my home for three months because Palestinians made it my home. As I say goodbye to Palestine for now, memories of my time here put a smile on my face and tears run down my cheeks.

As we look forward to a new year and new possibilities, Palestine has been under occupation for 64 years . As Palestine welcomes us to share the year of 2012, we should all remember that freedom means nothing without the freedom, equal rights, and the international recognition of Palestinians.

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

Beit Hanoun commemorates 3 years since operation ‘Cast Lead’

by Rosa Schiano

7 January 2012 | il blog di Oliva

(Photo: Rosa Schiano) – Click here for more images

On Tuesday there was another demonstration in Beit Hanoun against the “buffer zone” imposed by the Israeli army in the Gaza Strip. The demonstrators also commemorated the over 1400 Palestinians killed during operation “Cast Lead”.

The demonstration started at about 11.00 am. A drone was flying over Beit Hanoun.

The volunteers of the ISM and other youth marched until they were only a few meters from the separation barrier, singing songs, among them the Italian “Bella Ciao”, and waving Palestinian flags.  During the march, they heard gunshots from Israeli soldiers.  Saber Zaaneen and other young men placed a Palestinian flag in the land.

At the end of the demonstration, Saber answered some questions.

Why do you demonstrate every week in Beit Hanoun?

We demonstrate against the Israeli occupation and against the siege of Gaza. In 2008 the Israeli army created a “no go zone” along the border that prevents the farmers from working within  300 meters of the border. We demonstrate against the “no go zone” and support the steadfastness of the farmers.

There is also a “no go zone” in the sea. The farmers and the fishermen are both oppressed by the “no go zone”.

This last demonstration had a special meaning. Today Gaza doesn’t kneel and doesn’t submit. Gaza did not raise the white flag. Gaza is still strong. Three years ago the state of Israel launched an attack on Gaza. For 23 days they used every weapon on us. They used planes, tanks, guns, missiles, bulldozers and white phosphorus. They wanted to destroy the resistence and Hamas. They did not succeed. They destroyed houses, they bombed  schools, UNRWA buildings. They massacred the Samouni family, the Idaaya family, the Abed Aldayem family, the Deeb family, the Ayel family and many others.

You placed a Palestinian flag at the border, why?

For three years we have had this demonstration in the buffer zone, so we thought today to do something  new. In the last demonstration we marched into the buffer zone and we reached an area that Palestinians haven’t reached since May 2000. I was happy to see today the flag in the same area.

How was the Beit Hanoun Local Initiative born?

It was born in September 2007, from the suffering of Palestinians under Israeli attacks. The main reason was  the killing of 18 children in Beit Hanoun, some of them were in school at the time.

We started to demonstrate in the name of our children that Israel killed at that time. It was  my idea to set it up. Our name is Volunteers for Human and Social Service. We have a psycological support group for the children and the mothers. We visit families, helping them, to harvest their lands. During Israeli attacks we help and provide first aid for injured people.

We also have a group that dances Dabka during Palestinian celebrations. Besides this, we organize events on important days every year: on Land Day, on the 30th of March, working with farmers. On the 15th of May, Nakba Day, we planted tents in the buffer zone to reflect the condition of the refugees.

How can this conflict end?

There are some decisions from the UN that could end this conflict if they would be applied. This  conflict could end if they give to the Palestinians the lands they had until 1967, but the problem is that there is still no justice in the world. The United States and Europe still support Israel, they could end this conflict if they apllied those UN decisions. Despite all the suffering Palestinians have endured for 63 years and all of the killings, the Palestinian people still fight to have freedom and justice. Our message is a request for freedom, justice and peace in Gaza and all Palestine.»

The illegal buffer zone was established 50 meters from the border, inside the Gaza strip, according to Oslo, and since then it was extended by Israel to 300 meters and in reality it often reaches 2 kilometers, preventing  Gazan farmers from working on their lands.

Raw memories of war

by Yousef M. Aljamal

27 December 2011 | Center for Political and Development Studies

UNRWA refugee shelters, school and mosque in destroyed in Rafah, Gaza during Operation Cast Lead. (Photo: ISM)

Simply put, I hate war. I love peace, for I don’t live peacefully just like others. My youngest sister hates war too. She could never forget the sounds of American-made F16s raiding Gaza’s only Power Plant, burning it to ashes, which happened to be close to our house. I could not forget her screaming that was lower than the F16s’.

Palestinians believe in peace. We hear about the so called the “peace process” in the news outlets and it’s never proper to discuss PR campaigns when we are talking about PEACE, that endless process. Bibi always preaches us on how to make peace, wherever he goes and whenever he talks. The idea of peace is turning to be ideal, nothing more. We believe in peace and justice. They can’t be separated as our bodies were during The Cast Lead. We don’t believe in their “peace” and abhor their apartheid-like style “shalom.” You see guys, evidentially we reject peace; we are rejectionist.

Therefore, Palestinians deserve to be bombed. The other day, they refused to listen to the wise warnings of Tzipi Livi from Cairo as she repeated it several times: enough is enough! Pardon me; it was Gazans who had the right to repeat the ENOUGH stuff. We have a new Egypt. History does not go back again.

On the very day of war, like many others, I was doing some reading for my final exams as some 60 strikes struck Hamas-run police stations all around Gaza. I was unable to recognize the locations of targets. Electricity went off as bombs were dropping over police stations and governmental buildings. I looked for news in people’s eyes, but could not come out with anything. They were extremely surprised at the big number of dead. Everyone was ready to accept the very notion of losing a friend, a neighbour or a relative. I learned that over 40 people, I know, were amongst the dead. Death was an acceptable thought for its smell was all around.

They were merely numbers and nameless. How much it hurts when people in Palestine are being dealt with as numbers. Mustafa Tamimi was murdered in Al-Nabi Saleh village as he was protesting land confiscation, nevertheless, the media didn’t talk about his sister dying to see him, leave alone how brutally he was murdered, even though this was captured by cameras. Mustafa was only regarded as the first number among those who will be killed in Al-Nabi Saleh.

It kills me when over 1500 people, whose lives were claimed by the Israeli attack in Gaza’s War, are added to the many numbers that we have been given in the modern history. We are not numbers. We are stories. We are feelings. We are Iman Hijjo sitting in her mother’s arms and breastfeeding when the bomb tore her small innocent smile apart. We are Mohammed Al-Durra hiding behind his Dad’s arms bleeding, while his very Dad screams tearfully: The boy died by a bullet. We are the Al-Samouni family that was given a promise to survive if only if they moved inside a tiny room. The next day, the entire family was erased. We are the steps of millions of refugees who were forced to leave their homeland to be displaced till their very last day in life. We are not invented numbers, Sir.

Wrapped in white shrouds, draped with Palestine’s flags, the dead were buried peacefully. A new Era began in Gaza. On Gaza’s War 3rd anniversary, Arabs took to the streets to say Gaza is the cardinal of freedom, to break the walls of silence. Peace, not theirs, be upon Gaza. They are afraid of memories.

Yousef M. Aljamal works with the Center for Political and Development Studies [CPDS] , a Gaza based non-profit organization facilitating Palestinians representing themselves “in the tongues of its own people” to convey their own message to the world and enhance Palestine’s presence in world forums and international organizations.

Merry Christmas from Gaza

by Shahd Abusalama

25 December 2011 | Palestine from My Eyes

When I was a very young girl, I used to climb the window and stretch my arm out, trying to collect some rain in my small hand, then sip it, believing that it was the purest ever. I remembered this as I was listening to the raindrops hitting my room’s windows, which I made sure were securely closed, to keep the cold wind from blowing inside and disturbing the warmth my body felt under my heavy blankets.

Meanwhile, I could hear mum talking quietly from the room just next door, but couldn’t recognize exactly what she was saying. She suddenly paused and called me to join her and seize the chance to pray, as in Islam it’s said that prayers are more likely to come true while rain is falling. I closed my eyes as tight as I could and listened to her sincere prayers for us to accomplish all that we dream, for all sick and injured people to recover soon, for all dead to reach heaven, and for Palestine, from the sea to the river, to be free. As I could only hear mum’s voice along with the raindrops, a harmonic atmosphere spread around me, and my lips moved in silence, “Amen”.

Being a Muslim, I never celebrated Christmas myself, but having lots of Christian friends inside and outside Palestine has connected me to this day. I’ve always shared it with them one way or another, since I believe that religion shouldn’t stand as a barrier between human beings. Religion is to call for love, compassion, and tolerance. It should unite people, not divide them. Sadly, not all that is said is done. Three years ago, people around the world welcomed Christmas and the New Year happily with lights, colorful balloons and fireworks while Gaza received it with white phosphorous lighting the dark sky and rivers of blood spilled by the Israeli Occupation Forces.

Even though I am Muslim, I’ve always appreciated the beauty of Christmas trees, lights, gatherings, meals and religious songs that I see Christians perform in the Christmas movies I watched. On this rainy and windy day, which I knew was Christmas, I wished that Gaza’s sky would snow so that it would be a typical Christmas day like movies made me picture. For an observer like me, snow adds a factor of beauty to Christmas celebrations, even though my Christians friends abroad would sometimes complain about it.  I don’t blame them, though, as I have never seen any snow and never experienced its negative side.

I spent this Christmas Eve with Lydia and Joe, two of our Christian friends who came to Gaza in solidarity with Palestine, and in support of Palestinian people who live under the Israeli Occupation. My family and I didn’t hesitate to bring Christmas gifts and share this special day with them, as a form of appreciation for their indescribable humanity as they chose to celebrate it in the besieged Gaza Strip rather than joining their families on such a holy occasion.

Approximately three thousand people among Gaza’s population are Christians. Recently, I made new friends among them, a Christian family that I met through a funny coincidence. A couple of months ago, I was walking with my Greek friend Mack, who came to Gaza as a solidarity activist, and we passed a dress shop named Kopella. The name attracted Mack’s eyes, as it happened to be a Greek word for a young lady. He dragged me inside the shop, which we learned was owned by a Christian family named Alsalfiti. He was very curious to know if they knew what the word means, and it turned that they have a daughter studying in Greece, who chose this name for their shop.

Around a week ago, I visited the Alsalfiti family with Joe and Lydia, who were interested to know how Christians in Gaza celebrate Christmas. The first thing my eyes glimpsed was a beautifully decorated plastic tree that was placed in the corner of their house to welcome Christmas. “I brought this from Bethlehem five years ago,” Lili, the mother, told me while pointing at the tree after she noticed my surprise.

“We used to get permits from the Israeli Occupation to Bethlehem every Christmas, to celebrate it in the Church of the Nativity with our relatives who live there,” Abu Wade’ the father, said.  “But that can no longer happen.  After Shalit was captured by the resistance, people from 16 to 35 weren’t allowed to go. So my kids haven’t been able to join us in Bethlehem for more than five years. Many people are denied permission for the reasons of security, but no one knows what the security reasons are. For example, my wife and I applied a little while ago. She got permission, but I didn’t.”

Lili interrupted with frustration, saying, “Only a range of three to five hundred Christians get permission.”

Abu Wade’ raised his voice: “Remember, no Muslim is allowed by the Israeli Occupation to pray in Al Aqsa, either on their religious holidays or any other days.”

While talking about Bethlehem, I recalled precious memories stuck in mind since I was nine years old, just before the Second Intifada started. Mum struggled to get permission from the Israeli Occupation to take me and my two elder siblings on a trip to the West Bank. She eventually did, and so we went. I recall the few hours I had inside the Church of the Nativity, and how strongly spiritual it felt to be where the Christ was born. I remember how my eyes were captured by the beauty of the place and its architecture that is enriched with history. Once I recalled these memories with mum, and she laughed at me, remembering how surprised I was to see people crying very hard. When I asked her about it innocently, she replied, “Christians cry while praying out of reverence, just like Muslims do.”

It is very painful to think of how close I am to the West Bank, but how far the Israeli Occupation makes it seem at the same time. If I were to ask Santa Claus for something that would come true, I would wish that I could step on every grain of sand in our historical Palestine, freely visit Jerusalem to pray in Al-Aqsa Mosque and enjoy the smell of its air and its charming, mountainous nature, and visit Bethlehem and the Church of the Nativity. There are many beautiful, breathtaking scenes that I would love to draw as I see them in reality. I have faith that I will someday, once Palestine is free.

Drones in the shower, F-16s on the street: On leaving Gaza

by Radhika Sainath

20 December 2011 | Notes from Behind the Blockade

I made the long journey out of Gaza last week.  I must say, though I will miss the dozens of people who invited me into their homes, shared their stories, cooked me lunch, put up with my bad Arabic, boiled me countless glasses of rosemary tea and served me thick black coffee in petite rimless cups, I could not get out of there fast enough.

Gaza is not a pleasant place to be.  The Israeli occupation smothers and suffocates, it makes one highly attuned to one’s surroundings in unnatural ways, or ways that were once natural but should no longer be.

I never thought I’d look so forward to coming to Cairo, a congested, polluted city that I had little love for before the revolution. After a long journey though the Rafah crossing, across the Sinai and back to my hotel off Tahrir Square, I jumped in the shower. And then the humming noise started.  I froze, soap bar in hand.

“The drones are really loud,” I said, to no one in particular. They must be quite close.  And then I realized, it was just a malfunctioning bathroom fan.

I continued on with my shower, washing my face. The water had a curious scent to it. It also felt gentle and silky. I continue to sniff it, curious. Why, it was the scent of clean water of course! I had grown used to the salty, contaminated water I had been bathing in for two months; water that caused my skin to itch, my hair to smell like an old towel, and to fall out at greater frequency than normal.

Later in the evening, I met up with a friend for a drink nearby. Oh the joys of electricity! Not that the streets around Tahrir have street lights in the American sense — but the stores are lit. And those lights, in turn, made it possible to see where one was stepping! Not so in Gaza, where one has the pleasure of walking around in pitch blackness after 5:30 p.m., listening to Israeli drones overhead.  Indeed, the latter half of my going away party took place by candlelight.

Back at the hotel, the shifts had changed and Sami the “bill boy” from two months earlier waited outside.

“Oh hello!” he exclaimed. “Your head is very small,” he said in English. “Before, big, now small.” He gestured with his hand for emphasis. Indeed, I had lost a lot of weight. I switched to Arabic and told him I had been in Gaza, and he made fun of my “Palestinian accent,” pronouncing the “j” as a “j” instead of a “g” as they do in Cairo.

The next morning I awoke to the strange-sounding Israeli F-16s outside my window. Many of them. I unearthed myself from under the covers. I was in Cairo.  The Israeli Air Force was not outside, only morning commuters. What a relief! I walked around the city which was filled with things to buy, all kinds of things, spare car parts, stuffed toy camels, circuit boards, Bedouin necklaces, digital cameras and steaming bowls of delicious kushari.

Back in New York City, I found that Gaza had also rendered me unnaturally attuned to the normal sounds of industrial life.

I stepped out of the subway from JFK airport onto the crowded streets of midtown Manhattan in deep conversation about something. A helicopter suddenly flew overhead. I couldn’t concentrate; IAF Apache helicopters meant death. I kept walking past store after store, admiring New York’s creative uses of electricity, knowing full well that Eyewitness News wasn’t going to assassinate anyone, but unable to not keep an eye on it.

So I’m back in the United States, enjoying the luxury of knowing a foreign government won’t shoot at me, kidnap me, limit my electricity or cause my water to be non-potable.  But in the midst of the decorated trees, sparkly lights and mistletoe, I can’t forget that two days after Christmas 2008, Israel launched “Operation Cast Lead”, its 22-day offensive in Gaza, that Palestinians simply call “the War.”