I first heard of Vik before arriving in Gaza. Vik had just been injured by IOF water cannoning which shattered the windows of the fishing boat he was accompanying. Vik had some injuries from the shattered glass.
When I met Vik he was nothing but humble and humour. A compassionate man, living to do good and do anything for Palestinian justice. Others knew him better and longer, and told me of Vik’s arrests by the IOF, deportation, and other interesting stories. But above all, what shone, aside from his intelligible English and random Italian curses, was his humanism.
He was taken from Gaza, briefly, by the IOF navy, when they kidnapped 15 Palesitnian fishermen and 3 accompanying activists, including Vik, in November 2008, from Palestinian waters. At the time of his abduction, he was electrically shocked while peacefully avoiding abduction by diving into Gazas cold waters.
He returned to Gaza, via Free Gaza again, before Israel began its war on Gaza. He continued to write and report from the enclosed, bombed Strip.
Vik’s blog, Guerilla Radio, gave voice to Palestinians who have strong voices but are denied the microphone.
During the Israeli war on Gaza, we all worked together, riding in ambulances, documenting the martyred and the wounded, the vast majority (over 83%) civilian. Vik was always on the phone, Italian media taking his words and printing them for the public to see.
Aside from the loss of a compassionate, caring human, activist, and friend, I am saddened by the group that did this. Surely they knew Vik was with them, for them. But in every society, including my own, there are extremists, people who act with misguided guidance.
Vik was there, among the war casualties, among the on-going martyrs unspoken in the corporate media, celebrating Palestines beauty and culture, dancing Dabke at my wedding celebration.
He was there to joke with us, to counsel us, to smoke shisha by the sea…He wrote the truth, spoke the truth, stayed human.
Vik, my brother, allah yerhamek, bless you for your humanity and your great contribution to Palestinian justice. I will miss you, your smile, your humble, fun personality.
Mohammed Tooman and Hammad Awadallah, Nakba survivors from Isdud, share memories of their destroyed village. Credit: Eva Bartlett, IPS
This is the month for Palestinians to remember their Nakba, or “catastrophe”, in which more than 700,000 women, men and children were pushed off their land and rendered homeless refugees by the Zionist attacks before, during and after the founding of Israel in 1948.
Isdud, a farming community to the north of Gaza’s current border, was ethnically cleansed, in the months after the expulsions began in May 1948. It was one of over 530 villages razed and destroyed after the residents were forced out by Zionist attacks.
After three nights of Israeli air bombardment, more than 5,000 Palestinian residents here were forcibly expelled from their houses and land. Most resettled in what are now overcrowded refugee camps in Gaza.
“Most of the houses have been destroyed; the rubble is covered with grasses and thorns,” wrote Palestinian historian Walid Khalidi.
At a Gaza City Nakba commemoration displaying the clothes, agricultural equipment and tools of Palestinian daily life, Mohammed Tooman, 83, wearing the traditional robes of Isdud, spoke of village life and their forced expulsion.
“We were farmers and grew grains, fruits and had orange and palm orchards. Isdud had a large market every week and people from neighbouring towns came to buy from us.
“With every sunrise, I expect to return to my home in Isdud. And as the sun sets, I tell my grandchildren about our home and village, to which they will return.”
Hammad Awadallah, 70, also from Isdud, keeps this call for justice alive. “My right is passed down to my sons and daughters and their children. We will not forget our villages and our history. They are instilled in our memories.”
Since 1948 the United Nations (UN) has reiterated over 130 times its Resolution 194 calling for Palestinian refugees to return to their homes. The 1974 UN Resolution 3236 specified “the inalienable right of Palestinians to return to their homes and property from which they have been displaced and uprooted, and calls for their return.”
Roughly another four kilometres east of Isdud, East Sawafir (al Sawafir al Sharqiyya) was ethnically cleansed of its thousand residents on May 18, 1948. The village had a mosque and shared a school with two other villages.
“No village houses remain on the site,” wrote Khalidi. “But some traces of the former village are still present on the surrounding lands.”
Abu Fouad was born in 1930, before East Sawafir was intentionally disappeared. After the forced expulsion from his village, he ended up in the tents which eventually became the tiny, poorly-built, maze-like concrete houses of a Palestinian refugee camp.
“My father was a farmer and had 35 dunums (a dunam is 1,000 square metres) of land, on which he grew wheat and vegetables. We had 50 sheep which I used to herd.”
East Sawafir shared a primary school with two neighbouring villages. “We didn’t go to school after 4th grade because there were no secondary schools in our area,” says Abu Fouad. “We only learned to write our name and studied religion a little, but nothing much more.”
Life was simple as were the houses. “Ours had two rooms,” Abu Fouad says, “but no bathroom: we would bathe outside. Even though we didn’t have money or the conveniences of today, we lived well, people were happy.”
Like most Palestinians, Abu Fouad has relatives spilled around the world from whom he is cut off.
“We have family in Jerusalem, Libya and Hebron. We don’t know them. And I haven’t seen or spoken with one of my brothers since he left for Libya decades ago.”
His wife Umm Fouad comes from the same East Sawafir community. Born in 1948, she was just four months old when her family fled.
“My father was a tailor and grandfather a farmer. He grew cucumbers, squash, tomatoes and other vegetables. We hand-washed our clothes and cooked food over a fire or a kerosene stove (baboor) and baked bread in the wood oven (taboon).”
Although just an infant at the time of expulsion, Umm Fouad has been told the history of her family’s land and home so much that she has internalised it as her own memory.
“We fled because the Israelis were firing on us. My grandmother couldn’t walk properly, so in the panic we had to leave her there. She must have died in the house. We left walking, carrying only a few possessions as we didn’t have cart or horse. It was days of walking until we reached Gaza.”
And dispossessions continue. Since 1967, Israel has demolished more than 24,000 Palestinian homes in the West Bank, East Jerusalem and Gaza, says the Israeli Committee Against Housing Demolitions (ICAHD).
“I still come back to the house to work a small piece of my land that is 700 metres from the border. But even then I get shot at by the Israelis,” says Jaber Abu Rjila. His home and poultry farm east of Khan Younis lie just under 500 metres from the border. They were destroyed in a May 2008 Israeli invasion into the farming community. Soon after, the family fled, renting a house to escape the regular Israeli attacks.
On May 18, Israeli soldiers set land near Rjila’s fields on fire, burning the wheat crops of the Abu Tabbash family. The Nakba is not just about memory.
The Gazan skyline reveals a particular need to link with the outside world. (Emad Badwan/IPS)GAZA CITY, occupied Gaza Strip (IPS) – “I’ve learned most of what I know about photo editing and graphic design via the Internet,” says Emad, 27-year-old filmmaker and editor. In Gaza, this sort of thing has become usual in a different way.
“This program isn’t available here,” he says, smiling triumphantly as he finishes downloading the latest edition of an advanced video editing program. “Even if it was, I can’t afford to pay $600 for it, not even if I worked for two months. But I need this for my work, so I looked for a free online version.”
Isolated under a siege which began shortly after Hamas was elected in 2006 and heightened severely in mid-2007, Palestinians in Gaza have suffered the effects of such alienation in all aspects of their lives. The economy has been destroyed both by the prolonged and choking siege and the 2008-2009 Israeli assault on Gaza, leaving unemployment hovering near 60 percent.
Aside from denying Palestinians in Gaza an astonishing number of the most basic of daily items, as well as material vitally needed for reconstruction or in the health sector or for schools and universities, the siege is a psychological attack and strangulation which has pronounced affects on Palestinians dreams, hopes and daily realities.
“I’ve tried on various occasions to leave Gaza, for workshops abroad and for study,” says 24-year-old Majed. “But even when I’ve secured visas and invitations, the closed Israeli and Egyptian borders have prevented me from leaving.”
Likewise, Hatem has held a number of scholarships to study in the US and Europe, all of which have been lost to the whims of the Israeli and Egyptian officials imposing the siege.
Defiant despite the worst of obstacles, Palestinians continue to seek ways to educate themselves, as well as to feel connected to the outside world.
“The Internet is the most helpful thing right now,” says Emad. “For example, I’d like to study lighting in university, but it isn’t possible. Those type of programs, or anything on filmmaking and photography, are not available in Gaza. And since I cannot leave, I look online.”
Artists and musicians, as well as independent filmmakers, have virtually no market in Gaza for their work.
“Because of the siege and closed borders, the Internet is vital for promoting my work,” says Emad. “Someone anywhere in the world can see my photography, designs or videos and contact me about them. But for me, the most important is constantly sending a message about the reality of Palestine, whether it’s about the lives of children, or about the war, or the hardships under siege.”
Mahdi Zanoon keeps busy volunteering and filming with an organization in Gaza’s northern Beit Hanoun. But when not working, he too longs for contact with the world outside. “I chat with friends in other parts of Palestine and in countries abroad,” he says. “It is a small means of escape, when we always feel choked.”
Denied the opportunity to leave and visit family and relatives outside of Gaza, the Internet fulfills another vital role. “It’s too expensive to call people outside Gaza, but using Skype or a messenger program, I can keep in touch with friends and family abroad.”
Activists and educational groups also make the most of the Internet and technology. Satellite-enabled video conferences and Skype hook-ups allow university students in Gaza to connect with those in the occupied West Bank and with universities outside of Gaza working to break the siege on education.
The annual Bilin conference on 21 April this year included a satellite hook-up with academics and activists in Gaza, as well as residents in one of the hardest hit areas during the Israeli war on Gaza.
Ezbet Abed Rabbo, which had 372 homes destroyed, 333 partially damaged and suffered some of the worst human rights violations and war crimes at the hands of Israeli soldiers, played host to the conference, enabling the occupied West Bank and Jerusalem activists to show their solidarity with Palestinians in Gaza. The conference also enabled continued dialogue between Gaza and the West Bank, something that the siege and Israeli policies works to severe.
But for many in Gaza, the Internet and television are less political and academic, and more about killing time. In a Strip where time is the only thing in abundance, lack of work and leisure activities leads more people to surf the net or watch television.
Turkish dramas have gained a wide audience in Gaza. “I like to see something different. Their clothes, their customs, their surroundings,” says Umm Fadi. “When the power cuts, I get so anxious because I don’t want to miss an episode of the drama.”
The programs provide a means of escaping the daily reality of life in Gaza, where many feel tomorrow will be no different from today or yesterday. “Nothing changes, every day is the same,” says Mohammed. “There’s no work, no freedom, nothing to do.”
“You know, we watch television for the news, but also see how life is in other countries,” says Mahfouz Kabariti. “My kids see ‘normal’ life in other countries and ask me why our lives are so different.
“Can you imagine, this is the 21st century and my kids have never seen a real train. They live by the sea and only dream of sailing.”
All rights reserved, IPS — Inter Press Service (2010). Total or partial publication, retransmission or sale forbidden.
Rita, nine, learning the basics of the violin. (Emad Badwan)GAZA CITY, occupied Gaza Strip (IPS) – “Why are you rushing? Isn’t it nicer like this?” Mohammed Omer, oud (an oud is similar to a lute) teacher at the Gaza Music School, asks his student. Omer takes the oud and demonstrates, playing the song slowly, gracefully, with the ornamentations that are key to Arab music.
Mohammed Abu Suffiya, the 10-year-old student, has only been studying for six months but has already learned to read music and play a working rendition of a well-known song by Lebanese singer Fairouz.
Glancing only now and then at the sheet music, he begins to play again, more slowly and with more expression, his teacher accompanying him on a tabla (hand drum).
Mohammed Omer, 28, is one of five teachers at the Gaza Music School in Tel al-Howa, Gaza City. Formerly in the al-Quds hospital Red Crescent complex, the school moved to its current location not far from the hospital after the complex was bombed and burned during the 23-day Israeli assault on Gaza. A piano and at least two ouds were destroyed with the school premises.
The school opened about six months before the Gaza assault in December 2008-January 2009 as a response to the demand at the Qattan Center for the Child in Gaza City.
School director Ibrahim Najjar holds a music degree from Cairo. Mohammed Omer studied oud in Iraq. The piano and violin teachers are from Russia.
“We are open in the evenings, five days a week. Students receive one-on-one classes, 40 minutes each lesson,” says Najjar. “We teach the solfege system of note reading, because it is internationally understood.”
Currently, students can learn the violin, guitar, oud, qanoon (a zither-like instrument) and the piano. “We’d love to teach other instruments, but we lack professional teachers aside from the five we have.”
Fifty students now study at the institute, half in their first year, and half in their second, continuing from their start in the al-Quds complex.
Elena, the Russian piano teacher, works with 11-year-old Hada. “All my students are girls this year, but I hope next year will have some boys studying piano,” Elena says.
Tala, 11, is a second-year student, having studied piano in her first year. She sits with a qanoon before her, slowly plucking her way through a song, starting to find the techniques necessary to make music.
She has studied qanoon for a year now. “I chose it because it has a beautiful, unique sound. It is difficult, and not many people play it, so I wanted to learn it,” she says.
“When I play, I forget any problems and just think about the music.”
“All children like music, it’s the language of peace,” says Ibrahim Najjar. “And it’s good for the mind, body and our daily lives.”
At the moment, students are all from the Gaza City region. But this is more a question of logistics than preference.
“They don’t pay for the lessons,” says Najjar. “The Qattan center funds this program.”
But because transportation from regions outside of Gaza City is too expensive for most families, the students are local.
Najjar hopes to change this. “I’m trying to arrange a bus, so that students can come from any region of Gaza, if they have potential.”
“Even if they’ve never played an instrument, they can have the chance to learn. We test their ear: can they hear and hum a melody? And we test their rhythm: can they replicate a rhythm?”
Mahmoud Kohail, eight, has studied the qanoon for just under a year, but took first prize in a Palestine-wide competition in oriental music for ages seven to 11.
“Everyone asked me how many years he had been studying,” laughs Najjar. “When I told them it had been only 80 hours, they couldn’t believe me.”
Emad Kohail, Mahmoud’s father, is an accomplished oud player, and his mother a talented singer.
Also a doctor of mental health and alternative medicine, Emad Kohail explains how music has helped his son.
“Mahmoud suffered the same post-traumatic stress disorder [(PTSD)] that nearly all Gaza’s children suffer, as well as an attention deficit disorder,” he says.
“Music has made an immense difference in Mahmoud’s behavior. It has been a therapy for his PTSD and as a means of teaching him to focus.”
Ibrahim Najjar agrees that music is therapy, and constructive for children’s learning and mental health.
“There is a big difference in the students’ behavior from when they first came. Now, they are calmer, and listen and respect each other. I teach them this, but also to behave like this in all aspects of their lives.”
On a sunny Friday morning in Gaza’s south, east of Khan Younis, Abu Mohammed strums his oud for an appreciative audience: the children have been traumatized by a May 2008 Israeli invasion which destroyed their home and farm.
“They were terrified, we were in the house as Israeli tanks and bulldozers destroyed the land and our chicken coop attached to our house. My children were so frightened by the shooting and explosions,” says Laila Abu Dagga.
The family has since vacated their house, 470 meters from the Green Line boundary, instead renting a house half a kilometer away. But on this Friday morning, they revisit their home, with friends, clapping and dancing to Abu Mohammed’s music. “Music really helps people improve their mental health,” says Abu Mohammed.
The oud player says he had to struggle to learn music.
“My father was very religious and looked down on music, thought it was a waste of time. He used to keep me from playing, but I’d learn in private. He didn’t understand, but music can be resistance, my oud can be a weapon against the Israeli occupation.”
With a stigma against musicians still prevalent in Gaza, projects like the music school, and individuals like Abu Mohammed are vital to the society.
Learning on his own, Abu Mohammed in 2004 won the Gold prize in a competition sponsored by Palestine Television. His winning composition featured the story of a pregnant Palestinian woman who died waiting at a checkpoint in the occupied West Bank for the Israeli soldiers to allow her to pass and continue to hospital.
He plays his own works, set to the words of poets, and highlights themes of the Israeli occupation, siege, and the war on Gaza. Political, traditional, therapeutic, Abu Mohammed’s music meets various needs.
Hamdan's knee after being shot by Israeli forces while gathering scrap metalSaid Abdel Aziz Hamdan, 15, went for his first time to Gaza’s northern border area to try gathering scrap metal for re-sale. Although an area lined with Israeli military towers and notorious for Israeli soldier shooting, shelling and abductions of Palestinian workers and farmers, Hamdan did not feel he would be in danger.
“People go there everyday to gather bits of metal and concrete. The Israelis see us and know we are just working, it’s normal,” he said from his hospital bed in Jabaliya’s Kamal Adwan hospital.
Hamdan set out from home shortly after 10 am Friday, going with his younger brother Suleiman, 13, to earn whatever shekels they could. From a family of 7 brothers and 5 sisters and whose father is unemployed, Said Hamdan had no other options for employment.
“My friends go every Friday, so I decided to join them today, to try this work.”
The bullet which struck Said shortly before 2pm as he was leaving the area came from the direction of a nearby Israeli military tower. It pierced his upper left thigh, entering from outer thigh and exiting from inner thigh, leaving a 2 cm exit wound, his doctor said.
“The Israelis fired without warning,” said Hamdan.
“There were many people there, working like me,” he said of the area, a former Israeli settlement known as ‘Dugit’.
Still in high school, Hamdan is training as a mechanic and hopes to find work to supplement his family’s income. “My father used to work in Israel, but he’s been unemployed for years now.”
Said Hamdan’s injury is neither new nor surprising. Every week, Israeli soldiers shoot upon and abduct Palestinian workers in the border regions of Gaza.
Some of the recent IOF aggressions against Palestinians in the border regions include:
-Naji Abu Reeda, 35, shot in the leg on the morning of 25 March as he worked collecting rubble 500 metres from the border for re-sale.
-On 24 March, 7 am, Israeli soldiers invaded northern Gaza and arrested five Palestinians collecting rubble, including:
-On 20 March, around 2:30 pm, Israeli soldiers arrested 17 Palestinians collecting rubble in the Beit Hanoun industrial area approximately 900 metres from the border, including:
Those venturing to the border regions to gather rubble and steel do so as a result of the siege on Gaza which, along with Israel’s 23 day winter war on Gaza, has decimated Gaza’s economy, including 95 percent of Gaza’s factories and businesses, according to the United Nations. Additionally, these recycled construction materials are vital in Gaza where the Israeli-led, internationally-complicit, siege bans all but under 40 items from entering.
The barbaric siege prevents vitally needed construction materials from entering Gaza, where over 6,400 houses were destroyed or severely damaged in the Israeli war on Gaza, and nearly 53,000 sustained lesser damages. Hospitals and medical centres, schools, kindergartens and mosques are among the other buildings destroyed and damaged during the Israeli war on Gaza.
Since Israel’s war on Gaza, only 0.05 percent of the monthly average prior to the siege had been allowed into Gaza as of December 2009.
