“When I wake in the morning the first thing I do is remember my children. I come and sit outside and picture them where they used to play. I don’t want to go out and interact with other people anymore. I largely stay inside the home”
Iman and Talal Hamdan standing in front of a picture of their killed children Hiya, Lama and Ismail (Photo: Palestinian Center for Human Rights)
Talal Hamdan, 47, and Iman Hamdan, 46, are quietly contemplative about life since the loss of their three children Haya, Lama, and Ismail. The children were aged 12, 10, and 5 respectively, when on the morning of 30 December 2008 an Israeli F-16 dropped a bomb in the area they were walking in Beit Hanoun, killing all three. The children were walking with their father to a nearby rubbish site to drop off household waste when Israeli forces targeted the area. The children were the youngest of the couple’s children, and they have not had any other children since the attack.
Though none of the previous three years have been easy on the couple, for Iman the hardest period was directly after the attack, when she found herself in deep shock. “After the death of my children I could not cry, I did not have the space to properly mourn them,” says Iman, “but when I finally became alone. I couldn’t stop my tears.” Iman believes the shock of the incident has greatly increased her physical health problems, which include severe back and leg pain. “I barely sleep at night, maybe two hours during the day,” says Iman. Her grief is compounded by the experience of losing her father, brother and two cousins all on the same day during the first intifada.
Talal’s life has also been completely changed since the death of his children. “When I wake in the morning the first thing I do is remember my children. I come and sit outside and picture them where they used to play,” says Talal. “I don’t want to go out and interact with other people anymore. I largely stay inside the home.” Talal had a very close relationship with Ismail, “he would beg me to take him everywhere with me and so I would take him, we were always together.” Relating how the memory of his children is so painful, he gives an example of the time he was sick and needed to go to the hospital, “this particular hospital was the one the children were transferred to before they died. When I walked in the memory of my three children lying dead next to each other came back to me and I started to cry. The doctors first thought I was afraid of injections, my family had to explain to them what had taken place, and why I was so upset. In the end I couldn’t stay in the hospital for the treatment.”
Contemplating the approach of the upcoming anniversary, the couple speak about how they will face it. “On the day of the anniversary I will try to keep myself busy to avoid thinking about it too much” says Iman, “but I don’t visit the graves, I couldn’t bear it”. The couple now have young grandchildren living with them, one of whom is named Ismail after their killed son. “We try our best to make up for our loss with Ismail, we go up and see him and spend time with him every morning,” says Talal.
Before the attack Talal had worked in construction. He tried to return to work after the attack, but nerve damage in his legs and arms as a result of the attack have left him unable to continue working. The family now survive on UN food aid and help from their two sons.
Regarding the future the family has hopes and apprehensions. “We are always afraid that an attack will take place again resulting in more deaths in the family. I am always calling my daughters to tell them to take care of themselves and the children” says Talal. “I hope that peace will prevail and that we will return to calm eventually. Most of all I hope that other children are not killed in similar incidents. I can understand when adults are killed during war but I cannot understand when children are killed.” Regarding the family’s legal complaint following the death of their children, Talal is positive. “I expect it to be successful, my children were not militant and there were no military targets in the proximity.”
PCHR submitted a criminal complaint to the Israeli authorities on behalf of the Hamdan Family on 21 July 2009. To-date, no response has been received.
“I miss them all the time, sometimes I even go to look for one of them in the house in the split second before I remember they were killed”
Anwar Balousha and son Muhammed (Photo: Palestinian Center for Human Rights)
At around 00:00 on the 29 December 2008 an Israeli aircraft attacked the Imad Akel Mosque situated in Jabaliya refugee camp. The attack destroyed the home of Anwar and Samira Balousha, which was situated just three metres from the mosque. Five of the family’s eight daughters were killed as a result of the bombing, which caused the family home to collapse on top of them as they slept. Five others were injured in the incident and other homes in close proximity to the mosque were completely destroyed.
In the main room of the reconstructed Balousha family household stands a portrait of the family’s five deceased daughters Tahreer, Ikram, Samar, Dina and Jawaher who were 18, 15, 13, 8 and 4 respectively at the time an Israeli F-16 dropped a bomb on the Imad Akel Mosque, 3 metres from the family home. The family have since had one new comer to the home, Tahrir (named after her deceased sister); but for father Anwar “the home still feels empty, it is like there is gaping hole where my daughters once were, and despite feeling their presence with us all the time there is a huge sense there is something missing”.
While his face and composure gives little away in terms of the suffering his family has gone through, Anwar’s words are clear regarding the effect the incident had on himself and his family. “My wife has been badly affected, just yesterday there was an UNRWA crew demolishing the wreckage of one the neighbours’ homes destroyed in the war to make room for its reconstruction, it reminded Samira of the war and she started to cry”. Anwar himself says he spends a lot of time at the daughter’s graves talking to them about daily life’s small comings and goings, “I miss them all the time, sometimes I even go to look for one of them in the house in the split second before I remember they were killed”.
The families remaining children have been traumatised. Anwar describes how Iman, 20, who had a very close relationship with her older sister, Tahrir, and who watched her sister Dina die in her arms following the attack, seems often to be lost in her own thoughts; “sometimes I call her but she cannot even hear me” says Anwar. Despite being very intelligent Iman’s grades have suffered as a result. He also fears that his son, Muhammad, who was recently treated for a shrapnel wound in his foot, suffered during the attack, will grow up wracked by feelings of revenge for the death of his sisters. “He speaks of them constantly”, says Anwar, “he will not forget”. When asked by his father about his sisters, Muhammad says that “my sisters were murdered by the Israeli’s, they are in Paradise”.
The three years since the attack has been a period of constant flux and displacement for the family. They have had to move home seven times in the past three years, each time creating a greater sense of instability for the family’s remaining children. “The children find themselves friendless each time they move area”, says Anwar, “my son Muhammad wanders off back to the neighbourhood of his old homes or to the local UNRWA school in search of friends, we can’t find him for hours and when he eventually comes home he says he went to find friends to play with”. They have only recently returned to their rebuilt home that was destroyed during the attack.
Regarding hopes and fears for the future Anwar has mixed feelings. He is hopeful for the family’s legal case in Israel but he says “if they bring me all the money in the world they could not compensate me, I want my daughters, not money”. He is ravaged by fear for his children every time there is bombing and fears that he will lose them in the future. “Though this is my home I am seeking a future outside Gaza, right now I want to leave to make a new life for me and my family”.
PCHR submitted a criminal complaint on behalf of the Balousha Family on 2 August 2009. To-date, no response has been received.
28 December 2011 | International Solidarity Movement, West Bank
At first sight Al Jab’a appears as an idyllic Palestinian village, and sitting in a lovely garden under big olive trees, this seems like a perfect escape to the country side: white houses, friendly people, nice nature, and a splendid view until you glance just 500 meters from the village’s border.
An Israeli military watch tower seen from Al Jab`a village
Al Jab’a is surrounded by illegal settlements, a soldier camp, one major checkpoint, the construction of the separation wall as well as one permanent roadblock which blocks access to Jab’a’s land and the neighboring village of Surif. Since Al Jab’a only has about 1000 inhabitants and lacks a hospital, markets, and high school, the restriction of movement means that everyone has to go two to three kilometers by foot in order to do their basic shopping and to reach school, work and healthcare. Sometimes even that is impossible.
“When my wife was pregnant and was about to give birth, they didn’t let us cross the checkpoint. They forced us to go back and my wife had to give birth at home,” Naser, a senior of the village, said.
As Naser guided ISM volunteers through his village, the roadblock obstructing the village from free movement was visible. One women explained that since her husband is sick and she does not want to leave her children alone, she has to walk with them every 4th day to do the basic shopping and to buy milk for her baby.
The restriction on movement should also be seen in context of everyday Israeli harassment which aim at making life unbearable in order to make people leave the village. Many houses have a demolition order as do its trees, plants, fences, walls and mailboxes. The big sign which welcomes visitors at the entrance has one and so do the two small plants that are put next to it.
“They say it is for security but I don’t know what the sign has to do with security. It is like they want to show the world we are not civilized,” said Naser.
The sign to the entrance of the village of Al Jab`a
A small wall similar to a fence on the side of a house had to be taken down because the demolition order said that if the man did not destroy it they would send a bulldozer, charging the man the cost of them sending a bulldozer to demolish his own property.
Why is there so much pressure on such a small village?
In the very middle of settlements, Al Jab’a is a strategically important location. With no Al Jab’a in the middle, all surrounding settlements would be connected into one larger settlement which would mean a complete takeover and a further expansion into Palestinian land.
As in all other cases when Palestinians have to deal with Israeli bureaucracy, it is a long and tiring process when they are asked to bring papers that prove they own their land and houses. Because Palestine has been under both Ottoman rule and British mandate, different record keeping methods have been instilled in the short history of Palestine’s transfer from one occupier to the next. The only papers recognized by Israel are the ones they invented when it was founded, and now they refuse to hand these out.
“Since we have been here for so long, people just know that this was my grandfather’s land which he inherited from his grandfather and so on. We know it because it has been passed from generation to generation and we grew up on it. That is how we know it,” said one middle aged villager, who wished to remain anonymous.
Along the village’s main road only half of the restoration of the pavement is finished. It is painted in black and white and looks a bit odd because of the sudden abruptness. The villagers explained that the road has a demolition order which forced them to stop before it was finished.
“The soldiers should be happy we want to make the road nicer since they come into the village and use it more often than we do, said Naser sarcastically. “They come during the night and bring all the men out to the street. Sometimes they let us stay outside the whole night, and sometimes they bring us to the mosque. Every time they come, they do different things to humiliate us.”
One resident alone has 7 demolition orders for different buildings. This includes the communication tower for Jawwal (Palestine communication service) which is built on his land. Without the tower, communication services will be more difficult and at least 2-3 jobs will be lost. In a village where work is hard to find, 2 or 3 jobs means a lot ,and the loss of work will affect everyone. Many people have already been forced to leave in order support themselves and to find work elsewhere.
Naser described the difficulty of his fellow neighbors,
Everything we build is being destroyed by the military or they send us a demolition order. People cannot predict anything since we are not in power to decide over our village and life here. We have an Arab saying which says that ‘If the judge is your enemy, who are you going to complain to?’ People think that if they do something they will put us in jail, demolish our houses, uproot our trees or kill our children.
One farmer showed the remaining stumps of what used to be his olives trees. “Soldiers cut down my olives trees even though I showed them the right paper which says my family is the owner of this land. They cut down the trees and dumped them beside my house. Seeing my trees being cut down was like seeing my son being killed. I inherited this land from my father, and it has been passed from generation to generation.”
Olive trees are a vital part of the Palestinian identity. In one instance villagers were offered money in exchange for land and olive trees. In exchange for one tree they were offered between 100 and 200 NIS but as Naser explained “it is not about the money. Money is not my ID and money is not who I am. But the connection to my trees and my land is. When people want to know who I am they don’t ask ‘Where is his money?’ but ‘Where is his land located?’ ”
Much of the land that belongs to the village has been made inaccessible by the settlement and the ongoing construction of the wall, and what used to be the fruit basket of the village is now left as empty land. A year ago peace activists came to help plant some hundred olive trees in order to protect Palestinian lands from the settlers. However, if the construction of the wall continues as planned, the owners of the land will have to go all the way around the wall which means crossing neighboring towns and villages to access it. It is hard to imagine that the walk that normally takes about 10 minutes from the village will be replaced by a 2 hour bus drive. In addition to this, the overall area of 400 meters next to the wall will be “security area” which means it is a prohibited area for Palestinians to enter.
“When the wall is finished we’ll probably have a gate that will be open during certain hours of the day for which we’ll need permission to enter and exit through,” said Naser.
In total, the village has lost about 4200 donums from what used to be 6000 donums from the beginnings. When the wall is finished only 200 donums of Al Jab’a will be left for the people to live on.
Beside the everyday harassment when soldiers are coming into the village, the surrounding settlements also cause a lot of problems. Nabil Ibrahim Abdel Hamden walked with his goats when armed settlers came and shot him on the spot after they claimed the land to be theirs.
When relatives from Al Jab’a came to take the dead body away soldiers arrested around 12 of them with the explanation that they did not want them to take revenge on the neighboring settlement. Other children have also been severely beaten either by soldiers or settlers on several occasions. Many youth in the village suffer from long time stress of the constant harassment and the uncertainties of living in the village.
“You know, when children are small they think their parents can protect them from anything. How do you explain to them that you cannot protect them from the soldiers because they are in the ones who have the power?” questioned Naser.
So what does this leave for the future?
When questioned about the future of the village, one woman from the village responded, “It will be bad but I’ll never leave Palestine, it is my land. It is my country. Even though we don’t have anything other than our own hands we are determined to stay.”
In his response, Naser stated that
“Occupation means one land for one people, without any room for Palestinians. What is happening here is a way of making it unbearable for us to live, they want us to give up and leave so that they can take over what is left of our land. Everywhere in the world people talk about the new world order, peace for everyone and human rights but as you can see here in Palestine, they know what’s happening but they don’t care”.
From the main checkpoint and the border into Israel, the Israeli flag is clearly visible but for the Palestinian school-children inside the village, raising the Palestinian flag in the schoolyard is forbidden. Basically any sign of Palestinian existence is being reduced, erased or demolished.
Sara Morand is a volunteer with International Solidarity Movement (name has been changed)
“Living under occupation means that whatever hopes we have, it will fall apart one day. For example, you bring up your child and put all of your hopes in him or her, but then they come and kill your child and all your hopes are destroyed.”
(Photo: Palestinian Center for Human Rights)
In the early morning of 28 December 2008 Mahmoud Abu Taima, his wife Manal, and their two oldest sons, Khalil and Nabil were collecting zucchini from their lands in Khuza’a village, east of Khan Younis. After a few hours the two brothers went to their uncle’s farmland a few hundred meters further west. At around 8:30 the Israeli army fired a shell from the border fence which landed between the two boys. Nabil (16) was killed and Khalil was critically injured.
“You must understand, the area was very calm. Many farmers were working on their lands. It is an open area. I saw a projectile coming from the border fence towards the farm lands. Then I heard the explosion. I immediately ran towards the place of impact because I knew my sons were in that area. By the time that I arrived, people had already put the boys on a donkey cart to bring them to the hospital,” recalls Mahmoud Abu Taima (40). Khalil was critically injured by shrapnel in the chest and limbs and underwent a life saving surgery immediately after arriving in the hospital. “While we buried Nabil we were expecting that they would bring Khalil’s body from the hospital too,” says the boys’ mother Manal (37).
The Abu Taima family, who have their home in Abasan village, east of Khan Yunis, has been traumatized by the death of their son and brother Nabil. His parents, and 6 eldest siblings Khalil (20), Naima (18), Isra’ (15), Mohammed (14), Abdel Rahman (9), and Ibrahim (6) all have dear memories of him. “Nabil was a part of us and he had a big place in my heart. I remember him in every moment and I feel that he is present with us. Like now, when I drink tea, I remember him and feel that he is present. When I eat my meals I feel as if he is still here with us. I can never forget him,” says his father Mahmoud.
“Nabil’s mind was older than his age,” says Manal, “he was very clever at school and all of his teachers and the students liked him a lot. On the anniversary date of his death, his teachers and friends come to visit us. Besides going to school, Nabil liked to breed rabbits. Until his death we had about 50 rabbits. Since his death they died and we stopped getting new ones. We don’t feel like it anymore, now that he is not here.” Ibrahim (6) and Abdel Rahman(9) had a very close relationship with Nabil. Manal says: “They were badly affected by his death. They wanted to take the shovel and open his grave so they could take him from his grave and bring him to a doctor for treatment. Ibrahim was upset and stressed for a long time so I took him to a psychologist. When I told the children that a human rights organization was coming to talk to us Ibrahim asked me if they would bring Nabil.”
Khalil has spent the past years trying to recover from his physical injuries. “After 3 days I was transferred to Egypt for additional surgery. In the months after that I went to Médicines sans Frontières after finishing school and had 3 hour sessions of physiotherapy. I had very long days. Despite everything, there is still shrapnel inside my legs, chest and arms which cannot be removed. There are places in my left leg in which I can’t feel anything. My ankles always hurt and I can’t move the way I did before. My mobility, including my walking, has been affected. I can’t do everything that I want. For example, nowadays I play football alone because I am too afraid someone will hit my leg and I will be in agony.”
Besides his physical injuries, Khalil is trying to deal with the loss of his brother and the trauma of the incident. “We would always go to school and other places together. I feel as if I lost a part of my body. It is difficult to continue my life without this part. During the war it was my ‘tawjihi’[final high school] year and I had to go to school. I was traumatized after the incident. When I was sleeping I could hear the sound of a missile coming towards me. Somehow, I passed the tawjihi that year and am in university now.” Manal adds that Khalil used to have panic attacks after the incident, “even the sound of birds could make him have a panic attack.”
A few days after the attack, Israeli bulldozers destroyed the farmland belonging to the Abu Taima family, approximately 700 meters away from the fence. “We had zucchini crops, and a small storage room for fertilizers and equipment. We also had a water pump and water irrigation network. It is all destroyed now. We were unable to go to our farm for 2 years as it was too dangerous. Now we go again, despite the Israeli army shooting towards us. It is difficult. Since the death of my son I lost my motivation to work in the land,” says Mahmoud.
Mahmoud does not dare to have hopes or expectations for the future anymore: “living under occupation means that whatever hopes we have, it will fall apart one day. For example, you bring up your child and put all of your hopes in him or her, but then they come and kill your child and all your hopes are destroyed. We try to think about the future and have long-term hopes but it’s not possible for us.”
The family is not optimistic of the chances that they will see a court case against those responsible for their son’s death. “Nabil was not the first and last one who was killed by the army. Many boys like him were killed. Even if they [Israel] can capture the soldier who fired the shell, they will say he is insane,” says Mahmoud.
PCHR submitted a criminal complaint to the Israeli authoritiess on behalf of the Abu Taima family on 2 July 2009. To-date, no response has been received.
“For the upcoming anniversary of the war, me and other women who lost husbands in the attack plan to give gifts to orphans who lost their fathers during the war. The gifts will be inscribed with the words ‘On this day you are the beloved ones of your mother’. We want children to remember they still have their mothers and they will always love them”
Khawla and Faris Al Ashi photographed next to the picture of their deceased father. (Photo: Palestinian Center for Human Rights)
On the morning of 27 December 2008, at approximately 11:30, Israeli F-16’s targeted a Gaza police initiation ceremony being held in the forecourt of “Arafat City”, a government complex located in Gaza City. The attack resulted in over 60 deaths and 150 injuries. This incident formed part of the wave of attacks which marked the commencement of Israel’s 23 day offensive on the Gaza Strip codenamed “Operation Cast Lead”. Amongst those killed was 33 year old Faris Al Ashi, a member of the Gaza police force who was on duty at the time of the attack.
Like many of the wives who lost husbands during the offensive, Amna Al Ashi was left with sole responsibility for bringing up her and her deceased husband’s young children, Khawla, 6, Osama, 5, Yomna, 3, and Faris, 2, whom she was five months pregnant with at the time of the attack. Amna’s reaction to her challenging circumstances has been defiant, “I am a woman and I have the right to live my own life, many men have proposed but I choose to dedicate myself entirely to the cause of my children”. Discussing the last three years of her life, Amna is keen to press upon the mini victories that have kept her going along the way.
It is clear that Amna has thought carefully about the solutions to the problems faced by her children following the loss of their father. “After he lost his father Osama was very traumatised”, says Amna, “he didn’t want to interact with others and he developed speech problems as a result. Even though he was very young I enrolled him in a local martial arts course. At first he didn’t not want to go, but slowly he gained confidence and now he is an orange belt and has overcome a huge amount of his shyness”. Likewise, Amna has found a novel means to allow her children to express their trauma. “I registered Osama and Khawla in a course for movie animation. Of course their movies are based around their lives and those of their siblings and reflect a lot of what they are thinking and feeling. The movies give me an insight into their problems and allow me to talk with them about it”. She plans to enrol all the children in traditional Palestinian Dabka (Dance) classes to make sure they grow up strong and healthy.
Nevertheless, Faris’ killing has left an empty space in the family life of the children and Amna . “My children see their cousins with their fathers, they hear them calling him “Baba” and they are deeply aware of the absence of a relationship with their own father” says Amna, “sometimes I try to make up for this by getting them to call me Baba, but it’s not the same, they need the feeling only their father could give them”. The loss of her husband has also led to feelings of loneliness and isolation for Amna. “During the day I am strong for the children but at night I become weak, I need the arms of Faris, I need everything he gave to me”.
Amna describes the initial year after Faris’s death as being the most traumatic. “At first I had huge trouble sleeping. The problem thankfully improved but I still find it difficult at times to sleep at night”, says Amna. One way Amna has looked to keeping her outlook positive is to keep busy on projects and hobbies. “I want to keep myself busy with good goals for my life. Currently I’m busy setting up a Kindergarten, which I have already received funding for.” “For the upcoming anniversary of the war, me and other women who lost husbands in the attack plan to give gifts to orphans who lost their fathers during the war. The gifts will be inscribed with the words “On this day you are the beloved ones of your mother”. We want children to remember they still have their mothers and they will always love them”.
During the offensive, Israel illegally classified members of the civilian police force as combatants: this classification constitutes a wilful violation of the principle of distinction, a key component of customary international law. Hamas is a multi-faceted organisation, exercising governmental control of the Gaza Strip. As an organisation, it cannot be considered an armed group. Rather, a distinction must be made between Hamas’ armed and political/civil components. The Izz ad-Din al-QassamBrigades are the military wing of the Hamas organisation, they are an armed group, and are considered combatants according to IHL. However, Hamas’ political and civil wings are comprised of civilians, who are legally entitled to the protections associated with this status, provided they do not take an active part in hostilities. Civil police, and governmental officials cannot be considered combatants. Attacks intentionally directed against these individuals constitute wilful killing, a grave breach of the Geneva Conventions, and a violation of customary international law.
PCHR submitted a criminal complaint on behalf of Fares Al Ashi on 5 May 2009. To-date, no response has been received.
