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.

“I wish Dad was here celebrating Eid with me”

by Shahd Abusalama

6 November 2011 | Palestine from My Eyes
The day before the start of Al-Adha Eid is the day of Arafa. It is said that a believer who fasts on this day expiates the past year’s sins and the sins of the coming year. As it is considered to be a day of forgiveness from sin, many Palestinians fasted yesterday. Despite me fasting, I eagerly accepted the offer of my friend, a solidarity activist from Holland, to have a walk in Jabalia Camp. Approximately 108,000 registered refugees live in the camp, which covers an area of only 1.4 square kilometres.

I passed by the Jabalia market, which was so crowded that one has to keep pushing people out of his way in order for him to pass through. With every step forward I could glimpse many faces of different ages, genders, and features. I could see children jumping around from one stand of clothes to another, excited to pick their new outfits. At the same time, other children seized the opportunity of this unusually large crowd. They were carrying heavy boxes containing simple goods, trying to earn some money so that they could help their poor families have sort of happy atmosphere, to at least buy some candies.

I could see faces full of anger because of the high prices of goods, which result from the siege which has been illegally imposed since 2007. Parents would spend hours going around to every stand, searching for the cheapest clothing to buy for their children, who still innocently think that Eid means having new clothes. Yesterday, I could see how the inhabitants of Jabalia Camp, who are mostly refugees, face obstacles like low income, shortages of goods, and high prices for the available ones.  They are desperate for happiness, even if it’s always missing something: the feeling of freedom, security and independence.

Today, 6 November, 2011, Gaza has welcomed Al-Adha Eid. Hymns played as the sun dawned. I could hear children and men gathering around the microphone in the mosque right behind our house, singing continuously and happily in one voice, “Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar…” I couldn’t help but wake up earlier than I always do, and more energetic than ever, excited for what would come next.

My mother said that the door has been knocked on constantly since the early morning by people with Eid greetings. Some of them could afford to buy sacrificed animals, “Uḍhiyyah”, and hand out a slice of meat.

Eid is a very special religious holiday, as it reconnects people with each other, strengthens social life, and reminds the rich of people who are in need. In Palestine, Eid exceeds its conventional frame. It’s a festival of tolerance, forgiveness, compassion, and thoughts of the people who are missed in prison, in Diaspora, or in the grave. My father and his brothers, for example, visit the families of martyrs and prisoners in the neighborhood.

On the second day of Eid, there will be a demonstration in solidarity with our detainees in the Red Cross to convey that their spirits live among us, and that they are never forgotten. We will also show sympathy with the mothers who waited many long years, hoping for their sons’ freedom, who passed away before they could celebrate their release. Tomorrow will be a day of support for our heroes inside the merciless Israeli bars, encouraging them to stay steadfast, as well as a day of compassion for their families, who have passed through several important holidays with one, or in some cases more than one missing, making their happiness incomplete, to help them stay strong and optimistic.

I feel blessed for having all the people I care about around me. At the same time, I feel like I can’t enjoy my happiness at its fullest while thousands of people in Palestine can’t feel this blessing.

I’ve been constantly thinking about Gomana Abu Jazar today. Gomana is a ten-year-old girl whose mother died after she delivered her, and whose father has been imprisoned since she was less than two years old, leaving her uncle to look after her. Once, as she wondered why all children have fathers but her, her uncle said, “I’ll be in your father’s place until he is free. You’re lucky, since you have two fathers instead of one.” So she started calling her uncle “dad” for a whole year, until he was killed by the Israeli Occupation Forces, leaving her with none. As she returned from school one day, she saw a huge funeral in front of her house, and asked, “Whose big funeral is this?” Her neighbors’ children answered, “It’s your uncle’s”. She began screaming, denying it and saying, “Impossible! He accompanied me to school this morning.” Now she lives with her 70-year-old grandmother.

I called Gomana to greet her for Eid. After a long chat, I asked her, “What’s your wish for this Eid?” “I wish Dad was here,” she replied in a sad voice. “I wish they would at least allow me to see him once in lifetime. I only know Dad from his photographs. I wish I could see him in reality. Once I thought this dream was very close to coming true, but then I realized that I was prevented from seeing him for security reasons.”

How can Palestinians fully enjoy our happiness while these heartbreaking stories are so very common in their daily lives? I hope next year the happiness of Eid and other occasions will be complete, with the Israeli jails emptied and Palestine independent and free. Insha’Allah.

Under the flag of UNESCO marched Gaza

by Nathan Stuckey 

1 November 2011 | International Solidarity Movement, Gaza

We gathered on the road in front of the Agricultural College of Beit Hanoun, one side of the road a functioning school, on the other, only the remains of destroyed school buildings.  For three years the people of Beit Hanoun have gathered here every Tuesday for their protest against the no go zone and the occupation.  Members of the Local Initiative of Beit Hanoun, townspeople, students who had taken the afternoon off of school, and the International Solidarity Movement, all marching under the same flag, the flag of Palestine, red, white, black and green, together.  For three years we have marched together, every Tuesday for three years we have went into the no go zone.

Today was different though.  Today we marched under another flag as well, the flag of UNESCO.  Palestine has been admitted as UNESCO’s newest member.  In honor of all of the countries who voted for Palestine, and in honor of UNESCO, we marched under their flag.  Above all of this, floated a third flag, the black flag of illegality which flies over the Occupation.   This flag is always present; it is just that not everyone sees it.  It was acknowledged in Israel only in 1956, the Supreme Court of Israel referred to it for the first time after the massacre of Kufr Kassem on October 29, 1956.  Forty nine Palestinian citizens of Israel, women, children, men, were murdered by Border Police as they returned home from their fields.  The black flag was always there, it was just that most people refused to see it, many still refuse to see it, yet it is always there.  You only have to open your eyes to see it.

We marched down the road toward the no go zone, toward the zone of death.  We sang and chanted as we marched.  As we got closer we saw that the flag we had planted weeks before was no longer there, it was toppled, it was on the ground.  We went to the flag, Israeli soldiers had used it for target practice, they had shot the base of the flag in two.  We picked up the flag, took it even farther into the no go zone, crossed a ditch, and replanted it.  The olive grove which we had planted last month was still there, green from the recent rain.  Sabur Zaaneen from the Local Initiative of Beit Hanoun spoke, he praised UNESCO and the nations that voted to admit Palestine, he denounced the Balfour Declaration which was made in 1917 in support of the Zionist Movement.  Shots rang out, five shots in total.  This was the Israeli rebuttal to his speech, to our peaceful march against the occupation, the only language which the occupation speaks in Gaza, the language of violence and death.  We walked back to Beit Hanoun, not in defeat, proud, we too had spoken, the steadfastness of our olive trees and marching contrasted with the bullets of the occupation.

Nathan Stuckey is a volunteer with International Solidarity Movement.

Initial reactions from Gaza on the new Freedom Flotilla

by Radhika S.

3 November 2011 | Notes from Behind the Blockade

Coming back to port

Here in Gaza, people — especially the youth — are really excited about the new flotilla on its way from Turkey.

“I can’t wait to receive my brothers and sisters who share our suffering and who also experience Israel’s apartheid policies and aggression,” said 19-year-old Al-Azher University student Hussien Amody, upon hearing news that a Palestinian from Haifa was on board yesterday evening.   Hussein subsequently stayed up all night making signs and posters for today’s march  in Gaza demanding that the United the Nations and the international community protect the two small boats.

I rose early this morning and head to Gaza’s port to go out on the Oliva, a project run by CPS Gaza to monitor the Israel navy’s treatment of Palestinian fisherman.  I promptly told Salah, our Captain, the news:

“Two boats are coming from Turkey to Gaza right now,” I said, as our small white boat left port.

“Now?” he asked. “Yes right now. They will arrive in Gaza maybe tomorrow morning,” I said in Arabic. The “maybe” was for the morning– I didn’t know how to say “scheduled to arrive.”

“Inshallah,” Godwilling, he said, and then asked where the boats were from and other details.  A tiny boat rowed by two young men balancing delicately on the edges passed by as the Mediterranean undulated below them. Salah shouted to them the news and they exchanged a brief conversation.

“I think the Israeli navy will stop them,” he said as continued out to sea. Indeed, that’s what the IDF spokesperson had declared on Twitter the night before.

Nonetheless, Salah yelled out to a passing yellow and blue trawler the news.  The trawler had eyes with long lashes and a smiley face painted on its wooden bow.  Palestinians on a similar trawler reported being shot at by the Israeli navy when I was out at sea yesterday.  We had heard the automatic gunfire as we were leaving port.  The Israelis have an elite navy and all the Palestinians have are their pink, blue and yellow smiley faced boats, I thought.

I shared with Salah that the boat was bringing Palestinians from outside Gaza, since that was something the youth here were particularly excited about.  A few them had mentioned that because of Israel’s complete closure of Gaza, they hadn’t been able to see their family members in the West Bank or leave Gaza for university in the West Bank or abroad.

Salah only shrugged and said “inshallah,” again, a word I had never heard him use in the past.  He was refusing to get his hopes up about

Palestinian trawler with smiley face

something that, in his mind, Israel would clearly prevent from happening.  I tried to convince him that maybe this flotilla would be different.

“[Prime Minister] Erdogan has promised that the Turkish navy will accompany freedom boats to Gaza,” I said. “And the boats left from Turkey,” I added, attempting to convince Salah, and even myself.  Indeed the Canadian boat tweeted last night that they believed the Turkish Coast Guard was behind them.

“Inshallah,” Salah replied.

Despite Israel’s declarations that it will stop the flotilla, Palestinian civil society groups and even the fisherman have a big welcome in store for Freedom Waves. Why is Israel trying so hard to keep 27 civilians from seeing what life is really like behind the blockade? What is Israel trying to hide?

Check out this solidarity song with Gaza and keep the #FreedomWaves rolling on Twitter.

Rhadhika S is a volunteer with International Solidarity Movement

Ashraf Abu Rahmah in the midst of circus military court

by Maria Stephanya

28 October 2011 | International Solidarity Movement, West Bank

The proof is all there: photos, videos, witnesses. All of them showed that Ashraf Abu Rahmah, one of the main activists of popular non violent struggle in the village of Bil’in, Palestine, walked peacefully on the road which goes from Bil’in’s recent liberated land to the center of the village, when an Israeli jeep passed besides him. Then it stopped. The soldiers stepped down, took the flag Ashraf carried and arrested him, forcing him to enter in the back of the vehicle under arrest, on October 23rd.

Rani Burnet, who saw everything in his wheelchair – part of his body was paralyzed because of live ammunition shot by an Israeli soldier, 11 years ago – complained.

In spite of lack of evidence to support charges brought against Abu Rahmah, in spite of the witnesses and the video which prove otherwise, Captain Tzvi Frenkel, a military judge at the Ofer Military Court, ordered the indefinite extension of his arrest, until the end of legal procedures against him.

In July 7th, 2008, Ashraf was blindfolded and bound in Ni’lin when the soldiers shot his foot. The video, seen by millions of people around the world, caused international protests. In April 17th, 2009, his brother Bassem was shot dead while trying to alert the soldiers for not harming livestock which was passing on the road beyond the wall. A high-velocity tear gas projectile, aimed at him from a distance of 40 meter hit him in the chest, killing him. In January 1st, 2011, their sister Jawaher also passed away because of the effects of the massive amount of toxic tear gas she had inhaled during a peaceful demonstration of December 31, 2011.

Maria Stephanya is an activist with International Solidarity Movement (name has been changed).

Welcome to the settler party

by Jenna Bereld

28 October 2011 | International Solidarity Movement, West Bank

As I pass, my Palestinian scarf is hidden in my bag – I do not want to get any spit on me tonight. Around the tomb of Shimon HaTzadik, the festival is going on. The settlers have built a stage, erected a huge party tent and assembled a long line of portable toilets. Danceable klezmer music is booming from the loudspeakers and the Israeli police are present with horses and cordons. Children are playing around amidst guns and dancing men with beards and luminous bracelets.

One wouldn’t expect a Jewish festival to take place in the middle of the Palestinian neighborhood of Sheikh Jarrah. But it’s not a coincidence – it’s a statement. Otherwise I would gladly have jumped into the crowd and joined  the vibrant mass.

A while back, someone sprayed “A.S.A.B.” on the wall to the al-Kurd family house in Sheikh Jarrah. All Settlers Are Bastards. There are people in the garden when I enter it, and I am desperately trying to figure out whether they are friends of the family or rabid festival-goers that are here to backslap the Israeli settlers.

Illegal, Zionist settlers have decorated a settler occupied Palestinian house with Israeli flags.

I’m relieved when I catch a glimpse of Alex and Ellen in the tent outside the house. Since March this year, activists have been keeping watch outside the al-Kurd house, and tonight it is our turn. But there are more activists here tonight because the settlers’ festival is perceived as a threat. I greet an activist from EAPPI and some Israeli activists who say that they usually play drums on demos. “Good thing they didn’t bring their drums here”, I managed to think through the noise from the settler celebrations.

If one could break down the Israeli occupation of Palestine to one single conflict, it would be Sheikh Jarrah. Since 2008, many Palestinians here have been evicted from their homes and extremist settlers have instead moved in and barricaded themselves behind barbed wire and surveillance cameras. These settlers are neither interested in UN resolutions nor the Oslo Agreement. They are politically and religiously fanatical nationalists who believe that they have been given this land by God.

 Nabil al-Kurd offers a new round of tea in the tent where we sit, and he pours a heaped teaspoon of sugar in my cup before I can protest. Since 2009 the al-Kurd family unwillingly lives side by side with a bunch of settlers occupying half of the family’s house. The settlers have marked territory using large Israeli flags on the terrace. The Palestinian flag, however, is conspicuously absent here in occupied East Jerusalem since it is banned by law.

 The settlers are macho guys in their 20s whose main task seems to be turning the life of al-Kurd family into hell. They stay up all night, booze, provoke their dog, flash themselves and fuss a lot. Last time I kept watch in this tent, they tried to throw water on us seven or eight times through their window. They spat in my face, called me a “Palestine bitch” and threw stones in our direction. Activists have sometimes called the police there when the settlers go too far, but the police seldom intervene.

 The legal process of the occupied houses in Sheikh Jarrah is still ongoing. “But this is not about law, this is about politics”, Nabil al-Kurd says. He is backed by the Civic Coalition for Defending Palestinian Rights in Jerusalem, which concludes: “The existence and continuous expansion of Jewish settlements throughout the occupied Palestinian territory, in particular East Jerusalem, is fast foreclosing any future possibility of a viable Palestinian State with East Jerusalem as its capital”. I tell Nabil al-Kurd that he needs a good lawyer. “I have three lawyers,” he says, smiling. “And it is Norway and Sweden that pay for them.”

The tent outside al-Kurds house where international observers keep watch

All through the evening, people walk in and out of the settlers’ part of the house. It is mainly young men with orthodox Jewish outfits who pass, but for the first time I also see women and children visiting the settlers. They chat a bit with the settlers and then the settlers’ dog scare the children so they get terrified and rush away.

 Towards midnight, the festival begins to calm down and several of the activists leave Sheikh Jarrah too. Nabil al-Kurd goes to bed and I sit alone in the tent with Alex and Ellen. Some Palestinian teenagers from the neighborhood come by and try to teach us some curses in Arabic.

One of the settlers comes out and screams something, and the teenagers, who also speak Hebrew, scream back. “They said they’d call the police if we don’t shut up”, they translate. One of them, Joseph, tells how the Israeli police tend to harass Palestinians in Jerusalem, and how the policemen every day stop him in the street and ask him: “Hey, Joseph, will you show us your ID?”. People with “non-Arabic” looks can freely pass by.

Now a policeman with a luminous bracelet between his teeth enters the garden. He looks around and peeks into the house where the settlers live. “It’s gonna be cold tonight,” he says to us in the tent. “Yes,” we answer, interrogatively looking at each other. The policeman leaves again.

At 3 am the area is quiet and dark and even the settlers seem to have gone to bed. We are thankful for an early night without confrontation. Together we walk through Sheikh Jarrah and now I dare to wear my Palestinian scarf. The police are still there and someone yells “Go to hell!” after us.

 Jenna Bereld is an activist with International Solidarity Movement (name has been changed).