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No miracle yesterday in Nabi Saleh: Mustafa Tamimi murdered

by Linah Alsaafin

10 December 2011 | The Electronic Intifada

“Ambulance! Ambulance!”

So far, there were three people who had suffocated from the tear gas, and three people injured by rubber bullets. I saw gas, and so assumed that it was another case of suffocation. But the cries got louder, urgent, desperate — quite unlike the previous calls. Along with those around me, we began running to where the injured person lay, 50 meters away.

Screams. “Mustafa! Mustafa!”

I ran faster. I stopped. The youth I was so used to, the same ones who were always teasing and joking and smoking, were crying. One turned to me and groaned, “His head. His head is split into two!”

My stomach plummeted and I forgot to breathe. Exaggeration, I thought. Impossible. Not here. More screams of “Mustafa!”

I saw the man lying on the ground. I saw the medic with one knee on the ground, his face a mask of shock. I saw his bloodied gloved hands.

Mustafa’s sister was screaming his name. I saw Mustafa. I saw the blood, the big pool of dark red blood. I saw the blood dripping from his head to the ground as they carried him and put him in a taxi, since the ambulance was nowhere to be found. I saw other the tear-streaked faces of other activists, and all I felt was numbness.

Mustafa’s sister Ola was still screaming, so I put my arms around her as she buried her head in my chest. I was babbling, “It’s ok, he’s gonna be fine, it’s ok” but she kept on screaming. Her screams and the disturbing reactions of those around me made my legs numb. Ola then left to go to the watchtower where the taxi with her brother was, and my state of shock crumbled as I gasped out my tears in the arms of my friend.

The first protester death in Nabi Saleh

Friday, 9 December marked the second year since the tiny village began its weekly demonstrations protesting the expropriation of their land for the neighboring illegal settlement of Halamish, and the confiscation of the village’s main water supply, the Kaws Spring. It also marked the 24th anniversary of the first intifada. Fittingly, it seemed only natural the Israeli army would react with more violence than usual. But never did we expect someone to be killed. It’s too awful to think about. Nabi Saleh has a population of around 500 people. Everyone knows everyone in this tight-knit community, so when one gets killed, a big part of us dies also.

Mustafa, 28 years old, was critically injured after Israeli soldiers fired a tear gas canister at his face, and died at a hospital after his treatment was delayed by the occupation forces who had invaded the village to repress the weekly demonstration.

One difference that distinguishes Nabi Saleh from other villages with popular resistance committees, like Nilin, Bilin, Biddu and Budrus is that no one has been killed, or martyred in the protests. Beaten up, yes. Arrested, ditto. But never a death. Until yesterday.

My humanity is only human

Just before Mustafa went into the operating room, some good news came through. He had not suffered any cognitive damages to his brain, although he suffered a brain hemorrhage. There was a chance his eye might be saved. Relief washed over us. We tweeted, “please #Pray4Mustafa.”

I had pictured myself going to Nabi Saleh the next day, not the following Friday. I had imagined sitting in a room with weeping women, after passing by the somber men sitting outside. I had envisioned a funeral and an inconsolable Ola with her mother. Thank God there was a reassuring chance he would be ok. We’d make fun of his bandaged face, just like we did to Abu Hussam when a rubber bullet hit him under the eye a few weeks ago.

Then I got the call that Mustafa had succumbed to his wounds.

My humanity is only human. I hate my enemy. A deep vigorous hatred that courses through my veins whenever I come into contact with them or any form of their system. My humanity is limited. I cannot write a book titled I Shall Not Hate especially if my three daughters and one niece were murdered by my enemy. My humanity is faulty. I dream of my enemy choking on tear gas fired through the windows of their houses, of having their fathers arrested on trumped-up charges, of them wounded by rubber-coated steel bullets, of them being woken up in the middle of the night and dragged away for interrogations that are spliced with bouts of torture.

The soldiers laughed. They smiled. They took pictures of us, zooming in on each of our faces, and they smirked. I screamed at them: “Nazis, terrorists, vermin, programmed killing machines.”

They laughed at us as we screamed at them to let us through to where he was, unconscious in a taxi near the watchtower. They threatened us if we didn’t go back. We waved the flag with his blood on it in front of them. One of them had the audacity to bat it away. We shouted, “His blood is on your hands!” They replied, “So?”

I thought of Mustafa’s younger brother, imprisoned all these eight months. I thought of that brother’s broken jaw and his subsequent stay in the prison hospital. I thought of Juju (Jihad Tamimi), he of the elfin face who arrested a few days ago with no rights to see a lawyer after being wanted by the army for more than a year. I shuddered to think of the reactions of these imprisoned men from the village — Uday, Bassem, Naji, Jihad, Saeed – once they received the news.

I got the call just after 11pm Friday night. I was sworn to secrecy, since his family didn’t want to make it public yet. Anger, bitterness and sorrow overwhelmed me. I cried at my kitchen table.

I hate my enemy. I can’t go to sleep. The images are tattooed forever inside my eyelids. They yells, the wailing, the groans, the sobbing all fill my ears like water gushing inside a submarine, dragging me further into a cold dark abyss.

I sought out religion as a source of comfort, yet it didn’t alleviate the anguish. His life was written in al-Lawh al-Mahfooz (The Preserved Tablet) since before he was born. His destiny was to become a martyr. How sweet that will be in the afterlife! But here on this earth, his sister is beside herself. His mother is hurting enormously. Her firstborn gone, no longer to drink the tea she makes or to make her laugh with his jokes.

The images are tattooed forever inside my eyelids. A bloody pulp on one side of his face. The pool of blood rapidly increasing. (Mama, there was so much blood.) His mouth slightly open, lying supine on the cold road. His sister screaming, her face twisted in grief. The young men weeping, looking like little boys again.

I hate them for making us suffer

I loathe my enemy. I will never forgive, I will never forget. People who say such hatred transforms a person into a bitter cruel shell know nothing of the Israeli army. This hatred will not cripple me. What does that mean anyway? Do I not continue to write? Do I not continue to protest? Do I not continue to resist? Hating them sustains me, as opposed to normalizing with them. Their hatred of me makes reinforces the truth of their being murderous machines. My hatred of them makes me human.

I can’t sleep. The shock flows in and then dissipates, before flooding back in again. I see no justification is implementing such violence on a civilian population, no sense in the point-blank murder of a man whose rights are compromised, and whose land is colonized and occupied.

Sure as hell, you will not be forgotten. You will become an icon, a symbol, and the added impetus for persisting and continuing your village’s struggle which reflects the plight of the average Palestinian for its basic rights, equality, and justice.

I hate them for making us suffer. Hating them will give me more strength to shatter their barbaric supremacist ideology, and to bring them under the heavy heel of justice. We’ve suffered so much. I hate them for not giving credit to our sumoud (steadfastness), and so continue to kill and dispossess and imprison and humiliate us.

They killed you, Mustafa. My insides crumple. You, in front of me. My tears are drawn from the depth of my wounded soul. You were engaged to be married. You were wanted by the army because of who you are: a Palestinian who resists the occupation he directly suffers from. I think of your father being denied a permit to be with you, of your mother who had to be granted permission by them to see you in the hospital. I think of your quiet, sardonic expression.

Your screaming sister. Your blood. Your murderers’ smiles.

Linah Alsaafin is a recent graduate of Birzeit University in the West Bank. She was born in Cardiff, Wales and was raised in England, the United States and Palestine. Her website is http://lifeonbirzeitcampus.blogspot.com/.

Al Ma’asara refuses the road to illegal settlement activity

10 December 2011 | International Solidarity Movement, West Bank

This weeks’ demonstration in the village of Al-Maasara was attended by approximately forty peaceful protesters with twenty Palestinians and twenty internationals. As always during the protests in Al Ma’asara the protesters were confronted by a line of Israeli soldiers who refused to allow the Palestinians cross an Israeli built road. The significance of this road is that it passes directly through the village and connects several illegal settlements together, which surrounds Al-Maasara. Thus in preventing the Palestinians from crossing the road, the soldiers refused to allow the Palestinians to reach their land.

The demonstrators, who were double the amount of the soldiers, showed considerable restraint in the face of Israeli soldiers’ provocation and aggression. Throughout the demonstration, which lasted approximately forty-five minutes, there were a number of passionate speeches by members of the community, both to their supporters, but also significantly to the Israeli soldiers. In an admirable attempt to illustrate to the soldiers the inalienable rights of the Palestinian people, they opposed the unjust and often brutal way these rights are being denied by the Israeli government. Unfortunately, there was no obvious indication that the soldiers allowed themselves to be influenced by these words of truth and peace.

At one point during the demonstration a Palestinian man, Hassan Beigier, was permitted to pass through the line of soldiers. At the time it seemed the soldiers had claimed they would recognize Hassan’s right to reach his land. However once again, the Israeli army used the well practiced strategy of deceit, and as soon as Hassan was separated from the crowd he was arrested and escorted into a military van.

After the demonstration ended a fourteen year old boy, Ibrahim Alfuagra, was also arrested, under false charges of throwing stones during a peaceful demonstration in which the only elements of violence or aggression were perpetrated by Israeli soldiers.

On Sunday the 11th of December 2012, both Hassan Beigier (accused of assaulting a soldier) and Ibrahim Alfuagra will face the, “justice” of the Israeli military court for charges everyone present at the demonstration knows are false.

Idna family charged by Israeli military for “demolition services”

10 December 2011 | International Solidarity Movement, West Bank

Over two weeks have passed since the El Gelwe family’s home was demolished. They remain homeless and are currently living in a tent which was provided by Palestinian neighbors in the village of Idna, of the Hebron Governorate. The family’s tent is erected just meters away from the pile of concrete that was once their home. It undoubtedly represented so much for this family.

Saving just to be demolished - Click here for more images

The father, Jamel was visually broken as he stated, “Someone saves money their whole life and they come and demolish it.”

This home was the family’s first house and within minutes the Israeli army turned their dreams in rubble.

On the 24th of November the Gelwe family received a visit from the Israeli military “demolition services.” As is common practice in house demolitions, the Israeli military arrived in the village of Idna at 5:00 in the morning. The family was still asleep and thus in a vulnerable state. They were not given any time to save any of their property. Their house was demolished along with all of their possessions. Jamel tried to reason with the soldiers to allow them to keep their water well, but that just resulted in the soldier ordering him to move away. The family was forced to watch everything they ownedcrumble to the ground. Now they have no clothing, food, or water and with no justifiable reason as to why.

One can only conclude that the timing of these raids is a strategy used by the Israeli military to create as much terror as possible, in addition to the destruction. The family never received a demolition notice: this visit was a complete surprise to them. After living in the house for a few months they were notified this past May to stop building their house. Not only was the house already built, but the land is in Jamel’s name. The land has been passed down to the Gelwe family for generations. It is the only land they have left after the Israeli Army stole 47 dunums of their land to build the Apartheid Wall.

During a recent visit to the family it was clear to the ISM activists that this experience has caused significant emotional trauma to the family. The children were obviously distraught and scared of their bleak future. As with many Palestinian families there is little or no regular income

Just to ensure that the family adequately suffered from the experience of having their home destroyed, the Israeli military charged the family 2,500 NIS for their “demolition services’. If the family fails to pay, their fifteen year old son will be imprisoned indefinitely until they pay the fine. Not only were the Gelwe’s human rights violated, but they must pay for this abuse.

Over the last few weeks there appears to have been a significant increase in the number of house demolition orders being served and homes being demolished. The reasons for this increase are currently unclear, but one thing is certain: illegally destroying the homes of Palestinian family’s in the West Bank is not about the security of Israeli citizens. With the onset of the winter season it is inevitable that the suffering of the homeless will be more severe during this period.

Now the family is left with nothing, but they question. “Where are we going to go now?” asked Jamel. “We are thrown into this tent and tomorrow it will rain, then what?” The family of 15 is sleeping outside during the cold winter night for the 20^th consecutive day.

Critically injured Mustafa Tamimi of Nabi Saleh dies of his wounds

9 December 2011 | Popular Struggle Coordination Committee

Mustafa Tamimi, who was fatally injured yesterday during a demonstration in the West Bank village of Nabi Saleh passed away earlier today. Tamimi was hit in the face by a tear–gas projectile shot directly at him, from only a few feet away.

Mustafa Tamimi, a 28 year old resident of Nabi Saleh, was shot in the face yesterday, during the weekly protest in the village of Nabi Saleh. He sustained a critical head injury, under his right eye, and was evacuated to the Belinson hospital in Petah Tikwa. The severe trauma to Tamimi’s brain, caused by the shooting, left the doctors with little to do to save his life, and he eventually passed away at 09:21 AM today.

Tamimi’s funeral will take place tomorrow, leaving Ramallah at 10:00 AM towards Nabi Saleh, where it is expected to reach at around 11:00 AM.

Mustafa Tamimi (left) a moment before his injury. Circled in red are the barrel of the gun and the projectile that hit him. Picture credit: Haim Scwarczenberg

A photo of the incident shows Tamimi at a distance of less than 10 meters behind the semi-open door of an armored military jeep with the gun aimed directly at him. Clearly visible in the photo is also the tear-gas projectile flying in his direction.

The incident took place in the West Bank village of Nabi Saleh today, when dozens gathered for the weekly demonstration in the village, protesting the theft of village lands by the adjacent Jewish-only settlement of Nabi Saleh. After the army dispersed the peaceful march, minor clashes erupted followed by a severe response from the Israeli forces. Several people were hit with rubber-coated bullets and directly shot tear-gas projectiles. Three were evacuated to the Ramallah hospital for further treatment, including a 14 year-old. One protester was arrested.

In complete disregard to the army’s own open fire regulations, soldiers often shoot tear-gas projectiles directly at groups of protesters or individuals. Rubber-coated bullets are indiscriminately shot at protesters from short distances on a regular basis. The Israeli army also resumed the use of high velocity tear-gas projectiles in Nabi Saleh, despite the fact that they have been declared banned for use, after causing the death of Bassem Abu Rahmah in the neighboring village of Bil’in, in April 2009, and the critical injury of American protester Tristan Anderson in Ni’ilin in March of the same year.

The demonstrations, which have been held regularly for the past two years have seen hundreds of injuries to protesters by Israeli forces, as well as dozens of arrests carried out by Israel with the aim of suppressing dissent.

Background

Late in 2009, settlers began gradually taking over Ein al-Qaws (the Bow Spring), which rests on lands belonging to Bashir Tamimi, the head of the Nabi Saleh village council. The settlers, abetted by the army, erected a shed over the spring, renamed it Maayan Meir, after a late settler, and began driving away Palestinians who came to use the spring by force – at times throwing stones or even pointing guns at them, threatening to shoot.

While residents of Nabi Saleh have already endured decades of continuous land grab and expulsion to allow for the ever continuing expansion of the Halamish settlement, the takeover of the spring served as the last straw that lead to the beginning of the village’s grassroots protest campaign of weekly demonstrations in demand for the return of their lands.

Protest in the tiny village enjoys the regular support of Palestinians from surrounding areas, as well as that of Israeli and international activists. Demonstrations in Nabi Saleh are also unique in the level of women participation in them, and the role they hold in all their aspects, including organizing. Such participation, which often also includes the participation of children reflects the village’s commitment to a truly popular grassroots mobilization, encompassing all segments of the community.

The response of the Israeli military to the protests has been especially brutal and includes regularly laying complete siege on village every Friday, accompanied by the declaration of the entire village, including the built up area, as a closed military zone. Prior and during the demonstrations themselves, the army often completely occupies the village, in effect enforcing an undeclared curfew. Military nighttime raids and arrest operations are also a common tactic in the army’s strategy of intimidation, often targeting minors.

In order to prevent the villagers and their supporters from exercising their fundamental right to demonstrate and march to their lands, soldiers regularly use disproportional force against the unarmed protesters. The means utilized by the army to hinder demonstrations include, but are not limited to, the use of tear-gas projectiles, banned high-velocity tear-gas projectiles, rubber-coated bullets and, at times, even live ammunition.

The use of such practices have already caused countless injuries, several of them serious, including those of children – the most serious of which is that of 14 year-old Ehab Barghouthi, who was shot in the head with a rubber-coated bullet from short range on March 5th, 2010 and laid comatose in the hospital for three weeks.

Tear-gas, as well as a foul liquid called “The Skunk”, which is shot from a water cannon, is often used inside the built up area of the village, or even directly pointed into houses, in a way that allows no refuge for the uninvolved residents of the village, including children and the elderly. The interior of at least one house caught fire and was severely damaged after soldiers shot a tear-gas projectile through its windows.

Since December 2009, when protest in the village was sparked, hundreds of demonstration-related injuries caused by disproportionate military violence have been recorded in Nabi Saleh.

Between January 2010 and June 2011, the Israeli Army has carried 76 arrests of people detained for 24 hours or more on suspicions related to protest in the village of Nabi Saleh, including those of women and of children as young as 11 years old. Of the 76, 18 were minors. Dozens more were detained for shorter periods.

In Exile: Families relate stories of prisoner exiles

by Alistair George

10 December 2011 | International Solidarity Movement, West Bank

Although Palestinian prisoners endure harsh conditions in Israeli prisons, including and physical and psychological torture, their families are also severely punished through the policies of the Israeli authorities.

The prisoner release deal brokered between Hamas and the Israeli authorities saw the release of 477 Palestinian ‘security’ prisoners on 18 October 2011 (with a further 550 to be released in a second phase thought to be in December) in exchange for the release of Israeli soldier Gilad Shalit, captured by Hamas in 2006.

The joy experienced by many of the prisoners and their families was tempered by the fact that many prisoners from the West Bank were released but sent into exile. Of the 477 Palestinian prisoners released, at least 40 were sent abroad toTurkey, Syria or Qatar; 18 were sent toGaza or abroad for a period of three years, whilst 146 were forcibly relocated toGaza on a permanent basis away from their homes.

According to a joint statement by prisoner rights group Addameer and legal rights group Al-Haq, “These terms violate Article 49 of the Fourth Geneva Convention, which prohibits forcible transfers and deportations of protected persons, a proscription that is part of customary international humanitarian law. Unlawful deportation or transfer also constitutes a grave breach of the Fourth Geneva Convention (GC IV) and qualifies as one of the most serious war crimes. Given the stark asymmetry in power, resulting from the belligerent occupation, between the Palestinian and Israeli parties involved, neither the potential “consent” of the prisoners nor the fact that the deal was negotiated by a Palestinian authority can serve as justification for the deportations as this contravenes the spirit of articles 7, 8 and 47 of the GC IV concerning the inviolability of the protections afforded by the Convention.”

Addameer’s director, Saher Francis, notes that, as Gaza has been hermetically sealed off by Israel, the release of the prisoners “effectively serves as an extension of their previous isolation from their homeland and families and in many cases can be seen as a second prison sentence.”

Families of the prisoners spoke of their mixed feelings about the release and exile of their loved ones and revealed their fears and hopes for their family members.

The Assab family, Hebron

Ahmad Abu Assab, 18, spoke of his father Ataiah Assab, 47, who has been released after serving 18 years in prison and sent to Gaza City.

He was a member of the Hamas movement and he participated in three operations to kill Israelis, though he did not directly kill anyone. I was five months old at the time of his arrest. For the last two years I couldn’t visit him in prison, before that I visited him maybe around once every 2 months. When I heard he was being released I was very happy but when we heard he was going to be sent to Gaza our happiness was not complete. I was upset. They didn’t mention for how many years he has been sent to Gaza, I think they are making an example of him or testing him.

Ahmad was able to visit his father on his release, travelling through Jordan and Egypt to reach Gaza.

I hadn’t seen him for two years and when I met him I burst into tears. We hugged and kissed, and my father also cried. My father was in jail for 18 years and it was the first time I had touched him since I was five months old. I spent 13 days in Gaza with my father, but in Egypt I was detained for 2 days and they interrogated me – I didn’t tell them why I was going to Gaza.

Ahmad has two sisters and a brother and described the impact of Ataiah’s imprisonment.

Our family missed the pillar in our lives, someone who used to solve our problems, with whom we could share our problems, or give us advice – no one can replace your father, not even your uncle. Your father should be sharing your life and supporting the family, so it was hard. In spite of that we were steady and looked forward to the future. My mother divorced him whilst he was in jail 10 years ago. We haven’t seen her for 6 years – we don’t know if she is married or where she is. Our grandparents and uncles looked after me. But now my father will marry a girl in Gaza– his friends in Gaza have found a girl for him.

Despite being absent for nearly his entire life, Ahmad insists he bears no anger or resentment towards his father. “I am proud of my father for what he did but for some people, the resistance is not good. Some Palestinians think the resistance is useless and they don’t care.”

He says that his father will adapt well to life in Gaza. “My father knows some people who used to have a business with him before he was arrested – traders and businessmen. He is waiting for a job – we will open a branch of this shop [a toyshop in Herbon’s old city] in Gaza! He has to rest for 4-5 months, and after that he can start work.”

Despite the pain of exile, Ahmad says that his father is bearing up well.

“My father is happy to be released -Gaza is better than jail! Anything is better than jail.”

Al-Natsheh family, Hebron

Arafat Al-Natsheh, 39, was imprisoned in 1994 for participating in the Palestinian resistance in Hamas. His brother, Chaban, 37, says “he participated in three operations in Hebron in which three settlers were killed, but he didn’t directly kill anyone.”

When asked why he thought his brother was exiled to Gaza, Chaban replied, “Hamas wants to send as many prisoners as possible back to their homes but Israel wants to send as many as possible outside. The Israeli government wants to look better in front of the Israeli people.” Chaban suggested that as Gaza is a closed area, Israeli may think it is safer to send released prisoners there.

There is no time limit [on his exile] he will stay there until something changes” said Chaban, “When they were in prison it was like they were already deported, inside the jail there was really hard punishment. ButGazais part ofPalestine, they [the released prisoners] will start their lives there again; they will get married and choose to start another life. I wish they could come home [toHebron] but what can we do? Nothing. It’s better than being inside the jail!

Nevertheless, Chaban worries that life in Gaza will be hard for his brother. “For a prisoner who’s spent 18 years in jail it will be very difficult to start his life there, he will be completely confused. But he will start his life, he will forget politics, he will start looking for work but he will need time first to adjust. The first thing he will do is look for a wife. I will visit him if I get the chance.” Chaban’s mother and some of his siblings (there are five sons and seven daughters in the family) have visited him, travelling through Jordan and Egypt to reach Gaza.

Chaban said, “When I heard the news [that he would be released] I couldn’t believe it. I was so happy, but I couldn’t relax until he was actually released. I was always worried that something would change.”

Chaban was not allowed to visit his brother in prison – he had spent a year in jail himself and was denied visits for “security reasons.” He spoke to his brother once on the phone after their father had died. “[When he was released] I spoke to him on the phone and I had such strong feelings, but it is nothing like when you can touch someone and hug him,” said Chaban. “My mother is very old and she is ill – she has very high blood pressure. Whenever she got any news of my brother, like if there was a hunger strike, her health deteriorated. But when he was released, my mother said she felt like she could climb 1001 stairs!”

Chaban has a high opinion of the exchange deal.

It was great because my brother was also released. I wished for Shalit to be released and to go to his family because Shalit also had a mother and father waiting for him for 5 years. We know what it’s like to wait for the release of your son, so we understand Shalit’s family and how they feel. I wish all the Palestinian prisoners could be released in normal circumstances – without killing, or kidnapping soldiers. If there is no prisoners I don’t think the resistance would kidnap soldiers. I hope thatIsraellets the prisoners have a normal life now. Arafat has been punished – now let him have a normal life.

The Qafishih family, Hebron

Ala’a Qafishih was released after serving 8 years of a 30 year sentence. Ala’a’s family attempted to visit him in Gaza but the Israeli government prevented them from reaching Jordan. His father Mohammed says, “We have talked to him by phone– he says he is happy but at the same time he wishes the be in Hebron. He wants his wife and kids to be with him.”

Mohammad said, “Gaza’ s government welcomed him, they arranged some place to stay and the Hamas government is going to give each prisoner an apartment. Ala’a is very sociable and likes to meet people, and he’ll make friends easily there.”

Mohammed continues,

I was upset because I heard he was being released but sent toGaza. But I feel glad that they released him and I was surprised that he was released at all. I feel like it is now us who is in jail now he has been released but we can’t see him. They didn’t give any reason or explanation for why he was sent toGaza. Maybe because he was arrested many times before, so maybe it was a kind of punishment.

Ala’a is married and has a 12 year old son and a 7 year old daughter. His wife, Manal, said that her plan is “to take the children and move to Gaza to be with my husband. But the Israelis won’t let me go.”

Ala’a was imprisoned for participating in a group which was foiled in its attempt to carry out a bombing inIsrael. Despite this, the family insists they are proud of Ala’a.

“I only feel proud about what my son did,” said Mohammed. “I feel proud of anyone that resists the Israeli occupation, no matter what their political party. As Palestinians, we live in an unjust situation and we are supposed to fight the occupation in any way. We never thought he would be released, but thanks be to God he was. I wish the same for the other prisoners.”

The Wazwaz family, Hebron

Moussa Wazwaz, 29, was in prison for 8 years. He has three brothers and three sisters and is not married.

His mother Khowla describes her feelings at the circumstances of her son’s release. “Something hurt in my heart when I heard he would be sent to Gaza.”

Moussa had been serving a 792 year sentence (8 life sentences) as he was charged for his role in killing Israelis, a charge that he and his family has always denied. “I expected that all the family would die and he would stay in the jail” said Khowla.

The family says they have not attempted to visit him yet but they will try soon. Moussa’s brother Mohammed said, “There are two ways to get to Gaza– the first is to get permission and go through Israel to get to Gaza. The second is to go through Jordan,Egypt and Rafah to Gaza. We worry that they will stop us – there are a lot of families who have been prevented from going.” Kowla added, “When I met him [in prison] my son was like a lost person. So imagine how I will feel when I see him in front of me and feel him in my arms.”

Khowla worries what life will be like for him in Gaza. “He doesn’t know anyone there, there is no family, no friends. Our family doesn’t know anything about Gaza. It’s in God’s hands. We want him to have a normal life, a good life. We don’t know why he was sent there, Israel will fight to send all prisoners toGaza, it’s a kind of punishment.”

When Moussa’s father died he was 10 years old, so he had to start work, to sell products in the city centre. Mohammed went to Ramallah to study and “Moussa just kept working and studying” said Khowla. “He brought money to the whole family. He was everything in this house.”

Moussa’s younger brother Iyad, 22, is keen to talk about Moussa’s character.

“There are 8 years between me and Moussa. When I was a little boy he treated me in a very gentle way and as a friend, even when I was going to work with him. My brother had a very special character, he is a really unique guy.”

Iyad does consider the change in his brother after a prison sentence. “Sure he’s changed but I think he has changed for the better. He was jailed when he was 19 for 14 months – he could study in jail,and he came out better educated.”

His brother Mohammed is angry about the way the exchange deal was covered in the media. “When Gilad Shalit was arrested all the world knew about him. My brother has been released but there are still a lot of prisoners inside and a lot of people will be arrested in the future. Nothing will change. Always there is hope, but Shalit is one person and there are thousands of Palestinian prisoners. This family was suffering a lot and we don’t want another family just to keep suffering. Where is the world? The world started to talk about Gilad Shalit – when will they start to talk about our prisoners?”

Circumstances of arrest

The manner in which Palestinian suspects are arrested by the Israeli security forces is often a terrifying ordeal for the prisoner and their family.

Khowla Wazwaz recounts the night when her son Moussa was arrested.

It was around 6pm, it was raining. The soldiers surrounded the house and started to throw sounds bombs. When Moussa went outside – every gun has a laser – it was like there were hundreds of laser dots on his body. They asked him to remove all his clothes. They threw him this [a jumpsuit]. He took it and after that they arrested him. After that they told me to go inside and turn all the lights on and open all the windows. They entered the house and they started to check it.

They took my other sons and put them in another shop and Moussa in a different shop. After that they started to interrogate me – he asked me ‘Where does Moussa go, when does he come back.’ All these questions. I told him everything I knew but he told me ‘Look, the soldiers are beating him, so tell me where the gun is.’ I said ‘He doesn’t have any gun.’ I was interrogated for 3 or 4 hours. I heard someone screaming ‘Mother, mother!’ from the next room. I don’t know if they were beating Moussa or not, I think that perhaps it was someone acting.”

After that he told me, ‘You have been a widow since 1993, and you built this house. But now we are going to demolish it.’ They destroyed the inside of the house. We have a library in the house – they started to open fire [with live ammunition] at the books, they destroyed the computer and took the hard drive.”

Khowla has kept the spent bullet casings and a white jumpsuit thrown on the ground as mementoes; “We keep these just to remember that time.”

Amer Ahmad Al-Qwasmah, 45, was released as part of the exchange deal on 18 October 2011, after serving 23 years in prison for his part in a PFLP operation to kill an Israeli man in Jerusalem in 1987. He says, “I used to live in Jerusalem and came back to Hebron once a week to visit my parents. One day I was visiting my parents and the Israelis came to the home and they arrested me. They demolished the house, and they prevented my parents from building a new house until the PA [Palestinian Authority] was established here in 1997. This was common at the time.”

Mohammed Qafishih recalls that after his son Ala’a was arrested,

The Israeli army tried to demolish the home but it was almost like a miracle prevented it from happening. They arranged the dynamite but something happened and the Israeli army had to leave – [in that time] we got a lawyer to represent us and they managed to stop the demolition.” Mohammed says that the arrest was a traumatic experience for the family; “The Israeli army and intelligence arrived around 3am in the morning, they tried to destroy the main door – they gathered all of us and they started searching the house. They turned everything upside down, it took a long time to clean it up.

In a speech given in Jerusalem last month, newly released prisoner Ibrahim Mish’al recounted his arrest.

I was captured on the 28 March 1990. The Israelis entered my house with explosives and dogs; they didn’t care about the fact that there were children in the house. My son was two years old then and my daughter was one years old. My wife was three months pregnant. It was really horrifying for them and my daughter couldn’t speak for one year afterwards. I will never forget those moments or the look on my family’s faces when the whole house, the walls, everything, was demolished.

At the same event, Nasser Abed Rabbo said,

I was arrested from my house and they destroyed everything in the house. I was handcuffed and blindfolded. My arrest was not usual, I was not taken straight from my house to the police car; they took me through several neighbourhoods in my village, a very long distance, almost 2km, in order for the people in the village to see. I was hit repeatedly on the head and everyone saw me bleeding. I think the purpose of this was to make me an example for any other person who tries to resist occupation.

Denial of family visiting rights

The restrictions in place on Palestinians attempting to visit family members in Israeli jails often constitutes a form of psychological abuse and punishment for the families.

Chaban Al-Natsheh spoke of his frustration at being denied visits to see his brother, Arafat, in prison

Normally, the family should be able to visit every 15 days but there are problems with getting permission. My mother would get permission sometimes every 2 months, sometimes every 5 or 6 months. My other brothers would often get permission to visit only once a year. I couldn’t visit my brother at all in jail – I spent one year in jail – I was denied permission for ‘security reasons’. It was a really hard but this was destiny and I had to face it.

Chaban claimed that it was also extremely difficult to communicate with his brother by phone;

When people are given long sentences the military is very worried about them and they are not allowed phones. For people sentenced to 2, 3, or 5 years it is different; they have phones and they call their families all the time. But my brother could hardly ever call, I spoke to him just once – he was allowed one call when our father died. My brother started to talk but I couldn’t answer, I was so shocked, it was such a long time since I’d spoken to him.

Manal Qafishih was often denied visits to see her husband Ala’a,

There weren’t regular times to visit Sometimes it used to be every four months, sometimes every six months. They often refused to allow me and the family to visit my husband for ‘security reasons’ – this is all they would say. Family visits with the Red Crescent should be every 18 days. When we could visit, we were supposed to have 45 minutes but sometimes it was only for 30 minutes. It’s difficult to find the words to express how hard it is. During the visiting itself, you lose your dignity – they search you naked, they make you wait a long time – all this is routine.”

The Israeli authorities only allowed Ala’a’s brothers to visit him once during his eight-year incarceration, although his sisters were granted permission more freely. Manal says that “When they refuse someone to visit, they start with someone very close – if the prisoner is married they refuse the wife permission to visit, like they did with me. If they are not married, they refuse his mother permission. So it was easier for his sisters to visit than it was for me.”

In the first year of his sentence, no one was able to visit him – only the lawyer. We couldn’t even talk to him on the phone. There are many radio stations here inHebronand there are special programs, like ‘A Message for the Prisoners by the Families’ so we can say hello and pass messages, this was one of the ways to keep in touch, if prisoners are able to listen to the radio station. Another way to keep in touch is by the Red Crescent post but it is limited. You have to only write a few words, without an envelope. Ala’a used to send some letters from the jail but it used to take a long time.They put Ala’a in isolation two or three times – the last time he was in isolation for more than 100 days. Our only connection with him was through the lawyer, who only visited him once in 100 days. The problem is to visit him now he is in Gaza.

Khowla Wazwaz was often denied permission to see her son Moussa in prison and the family was frequently subjected to ill treatment during attempts to visit him.

I couldn’t get permission to see him [in prison] for the first year; I wasn’t even allowed to call him. After he was sentenced I could visit him and talk to him. To visit him we were leaving Hebron at 5AM to the Red Crescent, from there we take a bus and go to the prison checkpoint. In that time we were checked in a very bad way – if the soldiers feel like you have something strange then they check you in a closed room and often do strip searches. If you have food with you and it is not Israeli they will throw it away. If you take water and it’s frozen, they will throw it away. Once I brought stuffed olive leaves and they just smashed them. During the winter they don’t care about old men or women, many times women had jackets on during the winter and they told them to remove it outside.

We had 45 minute visits. Sometimes every 2 weeks, sometimes once a month, sometimes longer. Once I went to visit my son and I reached the prison they said that he was in a special truck in the prison waiting to be transferred, so I asked to see him. They refused and told me to leave. The Red Crescent sends the names to the Israelis and after that they give permission, so the Israelis knew that I was coming to visit.

We could send clothes and books but under really strict conditions. It was not permitted to send trousers with pockets, so I removed the pockets but they still refused!” Khowla has a suitcase full of clothes and books that she wanted to give to Moussa – “I tried many times to send these things. The authorities always lied and tried to confuse us – if you take black clothes they say ‘no – clothes have to be grey’. They wanted to make us suffer as much as we could. Now, if prisoners want clothes they have to buy them from the prison and they are very expensive. If you want to send a book they will check it and if you’ve directly written anything yourself in the book they will not accept it. I tried for three years to send some books but I couldn’t, they kept returning them. They’re religious books not political – how you should pray. I managed to send him just two or three books when he was in prison.

Mohammed added that, “It’s forbidden to send cologne to prisoners, so we sprayed it on books or clothes and tried to send it that way!”

Moussa’s brother Mohammed says that, “All the brothers and sisters were refused permission at first by the Israelis to visit our brother because of ‘security reasons.’ There is no real reason but they say ‘security reasons’ and that’s it. If we knew some prisoners visiting the same jail then we asked them to ask about him –if he needed clothes or anything like that.”

Eventually the restrictions were slightly relaxed; in six years Mohammed visited twice, his brother Iyad visited once and Fahed, another brother couldn’t visit at all. Moussa’s sisters were able to visit three or four times.

Mohammed is angry at the family’s treatment by the Israeli authorities. “If Moussa did something wrong, he got punished in the jail. But why punish all the family? Why did we not get permission to visit him? They don’t just punish the prisoner they punish all the family with him.”

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