Tag: genocide

Suffer the Children

Palestinian children in Wadi Tiran in Masafer Yatta, threatened with murder by extremist settlers if they don’t leave their village

I am still perpetually on the verge of crying or crying most of the time. Throughout my travels in Palestine, I have learned from the wisdom of children. Children everywhere know when they are very young that their tears are not something to repress, but rather their crying out helps bring about what they are needing. 

Where my Arabic and their English are inadequate to be able to communicate, playing together is a way to speak a deeper language of companionship and encounter. Our smiles and laughter together is a defiant blossoming of life surrounded by the threat of life’s extinction. 

Last week a young child kissed my hand and put it to their head. I didn’t know the most appropriate way to respond. 

But forty miles away, a new acronym has had to be created for children just like her, WCNSF, wounded child, no surviving family. Everything I do, even if I stay up through the night to keep watch so a family can sleep more soundly, still feels so inadequate in the midst of such catastrophe. 

More than 10,000 children have been killed in Gaza in these last 100 days. Surrounding Gaza there is a fence, and armed guards ready to shoot anybody who comes near it, keeping them from coming to me and me from going to them. UNICEF warns “All children under five in the Gaza Strip—335,000—are at high risk of severe malnutrition and preventable death as the risk of famine conditions continues to increase. UNICEF estimates that in the coming weeks, at least 10,000 children under five years will suffer the most life-threatening form of malnutrition, known as severe wasting, and will need therapeutic foods.”

Ceasefire Now Gaza by Sanya Hyland

In Florida, where I am from, when a hurricane hit and I knew of children suffering from dehydration, I could empty every pharmacy in my vicinity of pedialyte and drive it to them in a matter of hours. But there is an army, supported and financed by my government and tax dollars, keeping me from doing the same for these children. 

I learned a new Arabic phrase since I’ve been here and have used it often. People in Palestine are so heartbreakingly welcoming. There is rarely a “hello (marhaba)” in Arabic, just “welcome and welcome again” (ahlan wa sahlan). The implied longer meaning, that ahlan wa sahlan is a shortened version of, communicates: “You left your own people, but you are among family, and you are safe here.” But when a Palestinian asks me where I am from, I always tell the truth. “I am from America (Ana min Amrika).” I have seen people shake with the deepest hurt and speak about what the United States of America has done to their family. And saying “I am sorry (assif)” in Arabic is much too little. To me, it implies that I am expecting Palestinians’ understanding, forgiveness, or ablution. I am not. So I have learned to say “I seek forgiveness from God (astaghfirullah)” as the second part of responding about where I am from. 

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who was put in a concentration camp during the holocaust and later hanged by the Nazis, warned, “Silence in the face of evil is evil itself: God will not hold us guiltless. Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act.”

Amid such horrors and one’s inability to stop them, I think I understand how to be imprisoned, to be beaten, to be killed even, would be a balm for one’s soul, knowing that others weren’t suffering alone, and when people were thrown into a furnace, there was another in the fire. 

I have 109 prayer beads on my wrist. This about matches the amount of children killed each day in Gaza. What I have done and am doing has not been enough for 10,000 children. And 10,000 more. I don’t know what will be enough. But I will seek it.

The slow genocide of Palestinians continues in Asira Al Qibliya

13th December 2018 | International Solidarity Movement, Nablus Team | Asira Al Qibliya, Nablus, occupied Palestine

“This is the line,” Oussam Khalifa Ahmad illustrates as he takes us on a tour of his threatened land. “We are now passing into (Area) C.” Depending on where you look, some of the land has already been stolen. We can only observe for a limited amount of time. If we stay too long, we’re told that we will be attacked by the settlers, who’s housing we can see not far above us.

Settlements overlooking Asira Al Qibliya

For Palestinian landowners like Oussam, the Oslo Accords which solidified the cantonization of the West Bank, were a disaster. Tacit support or ambivalence for the Oslo peace process may be found in the urban regions, but not one villager looks kindly on the so-called agreement today. There is nothing surprising about his circumstance. His land is under threat by the Israeli courts, despite him having the proper documents. He also experiences frequent trespassing by nearby settlers who act with impunity. Oussam points up at his olive trees, burned from last Summer, to clarify exactly what that means.

A burnt olive tree on Oussam’s land
Oussam’s documents proving land ownership

This true story is one in thousands in the West Bank. We could talk about the road the villagers attempted to pave down to the main highway, construction now stalled by the Israeli government.

Construction stalled by Israeli gov’t for Palestinian road

We could illustrate the intimidating settlements overlooking the entire village, only a half a kilometer up the hill. Or, the monthly attacks by armed settlers, the hateful graffiti, destruction of property, bodily injuries to the villagers; Israeli soldiers aiding in all of it, firing on those who would dare protect their neighbors from harm, or their property from damage.

Graffiti in Hebrew on a wall in Asira Al Qibliya

We could talk about the direct theft of this village’s water, a common theme across the aqua-heavy West Bank. The spectacle of Israel’s control of the West Bank’s water is exhibited by allotted tanks, sitting on top of each Palestinian household, or business, throughout the occupied land. Let’s talk about the spring of water that was taken in the latest land-grab, candidly aided by the US government. We are taken to a water tank by Hakima, another villager and local landowner. The water tank is guarded by perimeters made of metal and stone, with a manned watchtower a few meters ahead.

Inside one can see the “USAID” sign. “This project is a gift from the American people to the Palestinian people…”

Last year the US government launched a “$10 million dollar project” to “improve access” to water for Palestinians. However, Hakima tells us that USAID projects such as these have a rather different effect when it comes to “improving access” to water. For example, Asira Al Qibliya received their USAID “gift” four years ago. “There was no (water tank)  here four years ago,” she says, “then the USAID brought the water project here for us and built all this. Now the Israelis say they need ‘security area’ for the settlement.” She says that in addition to the US taking many more hectares of land- much of which were her own- to build this reservoir, it has enabled the settlements to expand even more. Hakima recalls that they were much better off when they used their own natural spring, which ran down to the village. Now, due to the spring’s redirection of water for settler use, the well has been dry for five years, which gave them no choice but to rely on the USAID water tower.

The village well is now empty

Palestinians may hear this question from many international journalists and activists from the outside- “what reason did they give for taking your land? Why did the settlers attack? Was it in response to..? Is there any legal reason they..?” Colonial governments tend to have pretexts for stealing land, or killing native populations, so the “why” turns into a triviality by default.

The name of this village is Asira Al Qibliya. The village is home to internationally infamous settler attacks. The names of the surrounding villages are Burin, Madama, Urif, Ana Bus, and Uara. They all have similar stories, and so do each of the 30,000 residents comprising of those villages.

This situation is nothing new, however one may wonder exactly how many more dunhams Israel can take before there is nothing left. Or, considering the well-documented discriminatory practices of water usage between Palestinians and settlers, how long before massive drought sweeps the Palestinian natives? How many more homes can be destroyed until most of the population is rendered homeless? If it’s hard to imagine a tipping point for the West Bank, one need only to look at Gaza, which the UN and NGOs alike say will be unlivable in about a year. One should not make any mistake, the occupation of the Palestinian territories is genocide.

Outside Asira Al Qibliya