Just another night in Balata

by ISM Nablus, 3rd November

In a shockingly common scenario, the Israeli occupation forces shot a Palestinian child dead in Nablus’ Balata Refugee Camp early this morning and wounded two other Palestinian civilians. Fifteen year-old Brahmin Smakreh was shot and killed as he tried to help his brother Ahmed who was lying in the street after being wounded by the Israeli military.

The unsurprising tragedy began last night at 9:30pm when a small Israeli force entered the Balata refugee camp, reportedly looking for two wanted men. The soldiers fired a number of shots but did not injure anyone and left after about an hour. Balata residents, who are subjected to frequent military operations, returned to the streets.

Then at 1:30am this morning, a much larger force of soldiers invaded Balata in a numerous jeeps, humvees and tanks and laid virtual siege to the camp. The Israeli army occupied a Palestinian house to set up sniper positions, blindfolding the family and forcing them to huddle in one room. The soldiers fired heavy caliber weapons into the main street of Balata and engaged in many clashes with resistance fighters.

Palestinian paramedics were called to the camp after Israeli soldiers severely beat a Palestinian man, 30 year-old Nazem Qatawi, while searching for the wanted men. The Israeli military refused to allow the ambulance or medical teams into the camp, so the ambulance waited nearby.

After Ahmed Smakreh was wounded on the street in front of his house, his younger brother Brahim tried to cross the street and drag him to safety. But before Brahim could reach his brother, he was shot by an Israeli sniper.

Palestinian paramedics received the report of additional casualties and again requested permission to enter the camp to evacuate the wounded. According to the paramedics, the Israeli army responded by firing live ammunition directly at the uniformed paramedics and their Red Crescent ambulance.

Around 4:30am there was a series of explosions followed by a much larger blast as the Israeli army blew up a car on the main street of Balata. The massive explosion knocked out electricity to the entire refugee camp, blew out windows of the neighboring houses, and started a fire that threatened the nearest house. The paramedics called in the Nablus fire department but the Israeli military would not allow any fire trucks to enter the camp.

By 5:30am the Israeli soldiers left Balata camp without arresting anyone. Palestinian paramedics and firemen immediately entered the camp to put out the fire and attend to the civilian casualties. Once the fire was extinguished and the wounded evacuated, electricity crews began to fixeding the electrical wiring to restore power as quickly as possible to the beleaguered citizens of Balata.

The funeral for the murdered boy, Brahim was held at 10:30 this morning. His brother Ahmed and Nazem Qatawi are recovering from their injuries in hospital.

Chaos Caused by Israeli Checkpoint

by ISM Nablus, Wednesday 1st November

At one o’clock this afternoon, the Israeli checkpoint of Beit Iba, just west of Nablus City was closed for all vehicles and pedestrians attempting to pass it. Located at a junction between the villages of Beit Iba, Quusin and Deir Sharaf, this is a central thoroughfare to and from Nablus, especially for students and workers from Jenin and its surrounding villages.

At five o’clock in the afternoon, buses and trucks were queued up in two lines which were at least 500 meters long on each side of the checkpoint. Hundreds of men, women and children, subject to orders barked out by Israeli soldiers, were continuously forced to move from behind the turnstiles into the car lane and then back again. A group of students from Tubas had been waiting for at least three hours to go to their homes. Tension was rising as finally the soldiers started to open the checkpoint, allowing a slow trickle of women and children to go through. One hummer and three soldiers blocked the entrance to the pedestrian passageway on the west side of the checkpoint, forcing people to wait in the way of the traffic which created chaos.

Three jeeps were also stationed in the middle of the junction, blocking the road for ambulances, trucks and buses that were -with difficulty- squeezing past them. At least twenty soldiers milled about, pointing their machine-guns into the crowd to enforce their conflicting orders. At one point, an international human rights worker approached an officer from the “Humanitarian Division” of the Israeli occupation forces, standing to the side seemingly observing what was going on. When asked what he thought of the situation, the soldier answered “very bad”. As the human rights worker expressed a concern that someone could be shot at any moment, the soldier nodded in agreement but said “there is nothing I can do. I am not from here”.

At about six o’clock, the checkpoint opened up completely and the men, some of whom had been waiting to pass since two o’clock, were finally allowed to pass. Three men who had been detained a few hours earlier were released and the line of vehicles started to move. As a large coach full of al-Najah students were forced to step off their bus while it was being searched, one of the girls remarked that “this gives us no time to study, or to spend time with our families. I ate here today, at the checkpoint! It will take me another hour to get home and then I must go straight to bed. And tomorrow I have to go through here again. This is not a life.”

Fortunately, no one was hurt today. Similar closures frequently take place at the more than 518 checkpoints, guarded gates and other forms of road blocks located throughout the West Bank, and often lead to injuries or even death. These restrictions on freedom of movement cripple the economy and prevent people from being able to plan their daily lives – yet another aspect of the slow genocide orchestrated by the Israeli government and sanctioned by the international community’s silence.

International Accompaniment Makes a Difference in Zawata

by ISM Nablus, Wednesday 1st November

“What do you think of this place? Isn’t is beautiful?” The woman asking the question, a mother of four polished and polite children, looks at us expectantly. What can we say? Wadi Al-Khrazey on the outskirts of the 2,000 person village of Zawata, west of Nablus city, is not an immediately attractive place. The olive groves, made up of two long rows of trees rooted in red sand, are crammed in between a military road and a slope leading up to the notoriously violent Sabatash checkpoint (named after the Palestinian security force that used to man it) with its watchtower looming ominously on the highest hilltop.

Yet by the time the blue sky has been replaced by dark clouds weighted down by rain, and the donkey has tottered up and down the hillside on his spindly legs for the fourth time, the place seemed to transform. We can see gophers scurrying among the rocks, paths carefully trampled over by two hundred years worth of hooves and sandaled feet, and gnarled trunks of trees spiraling into branches lovingly trimmed to perfection. We know now that the military street used to be a railway track planned by the British colonial administration, and that it led from cities as exotic as Damascus and Baghdad to the ports of Haifa and Jaffa. We sit on the uppermost chair-like branches sprinkling olives on the people below while three young girls squeeze into a wheelbarrow singing the latest Arabic pop hits. This is truly a beautiful place that before long has a whole history of joys and sorrows ringing in our ears.

Last Wednesday, a few families tried to start picking olives from their trees along side the military road, with jeeps and hummers speeding past every 10 minutes. After only a couple of hours, the harvesters were chased off their land. Soldiers stepped out of their hummer, screamed at the people through megaphones to leave the area and fired several rounds into the air. Frightened for their own and their children’s lives, everyone left. Since then, people have been reluctant to return to their land without international accompaniment.

Today, three families and a group of internationals harvested every last olive from the area. It would, however, be wrong to say that the work proceeded without interruption. Every time a hummer passed by, one of the younger children’s knees would involuntarily buckle. As he ducked behind a bush, his father Maher Saleh smiled at us sadly. A father’s powers of consolation scorned. And again, we did not know what to say. Only last night, Israeli forces entered the village under the protection of darkness and abducted two young men from their homes. This is a regular occurrence that, apart from being horrific in itself, completely undermines parental authority and children’s general sense of security.

Come to Palestine! There is a great need for international accompaniment during the olive harvest – supporting the sense of civil resistance that has people out in their fields every single day reclaiming their rights to their land. Together, we can try to make sure that every last olive is picked and that the children are allowed to play among the olive trees in peace, if only for a day.

More Settler Intimidation in Nablus Olive Harvest

by ISM Nablus, 30th October

At 8am this morning two international Human Rights Workers (HRWs) accompanied a Palestinian family from the village of Azmut, just east of Nablus, to their olive groves. This land has found itself within close proximity to the illegal Israeli settlement of Elon Moreh, meaning that the family has been unable to harvest or cultivate this land for the past 8 years. Just 5 minutes after starting to harvest, a settler-operated “security” jeep pulled up a short distance further up the hill, and started screaming over a loudspeaker at the Palestinians, mainly in Hebrew with a little Arabic. One of the family told us he he had demanded that they “go back go back to [their] houses”. The villagers were visibly distressed, the village having long been subject to violence and intimidation from the settlers. With the settler in the jeep continuing to threaten us over the loudspeaker, the villagers left immediately. The two HRWs called the DCO (District Co-ordination Office, the civilian administration wing of the Israeli military in the West Bank) and asked for the Israeli police to intervene. Around 15 minutes later a border police jeep arrived and stopped next to the settler vehicle. However by this stage the villagers, accompanied by the 2 internationals, had retreated to a safe distance, and so it was not clear what the border police were going to do about the situation.

After the border police arrived the settler jeep remained where it was for about 10 minutes. There didnt seem to be much interaction between the police vehicle and the settler jeep; a police man appeared to say a few words to the settler(s) when they first arrived, but both vehicles remained next to each other on the top of the hill. The army certainly didn’t come to protect the villagers.

The villagers were unwilling to return without explicit assurances from the DCO that their protection from the Israeli settlers could be ensured.

The Palestinian family decided instead to harvest some olives out of sight of the settlement, and the rest of the day’s harvest went ahead without incident. This one family alone has 90 dunums of land which they are unable to cultivate due to the proximity of this notorious Israeli settlement, leaving them with just 60 dunums.

The settlement’s colonist residents have been known to shoot at Palestinians attempting to pick their olives, and the army is complicit in this intimidation, the family told us. They regularly refuse to allow Palestinians access to their land, in contravention to Israeli High Court rulings. We were also told of several previous incidents of the army entering the village and assaulting its residents.

The HRW’s were also shown a stream running into the village. Although it previously provided the village with much needed water, it is now heavily polluted by a factory in the Elon Moreh settlement, and its chemical stench spreads over a considerable area. Despite all the setbacks and intimidation, the villagers of Azmut refuse to leave, and will continue this year’s olive harvest as they have done for many generations.

Clarified and expanded: 6 November.

Tales of the prophets: harvesting in the shadow of the settlements

by ISM Nablus, Monday 30th October


Itamar settlement and settler road on the land of Rujeeb village

“He turned his walking-stick into a giant snake that swallowed up all the others’ tiny snakes. And so the Pharoah knew that Moses was a prophet and not just a simple magician.” Rada, 29 years old, is telling us stories while we kneel along the edges of the tarpaulins picking up stray olives from the ground. Her voice is soft and soothing, almost like song, even though her English is taken directly from North American sit-coms. She especially likes Seinfeld and Friends.

Rada’s family are spread out along a mountain ridge some 300 metres from the Israeli settlement of Itamar, just west of Rujeeb village outside of Nablus city. The village is effectively an expansion of Balata refugee camp, built by families wishing to escape the insecurity and cramped environment of their former home. Perched on branches and standing on the ground pulling the olives off of the boughs with nimble fingers, we are cheerful but guarded. Despite the pretty surroundings and the spring-like weather, it is difficult to forget that the settlement houses and the perimeter fence with its alarmed gate loom menacingly behind our backs.

A settler militia van comes driving along the road and an armed settler steps out, opens the gate and looks around. A military jeep hurries behind it, screeches to a halt and soldiers step out to converse with the, seemingly self-appointed, settler deputy. After five minutes, both vehicles drive off and we discover that we have been holding our breaths all the while.

The day proceeds quietly. We finish picking the trees closest to the settlement and move on to a second plot of land adjacent to the settler by-pass road. In the morning, soldiers tell the international pickers present to get out of the area as it is a so-called “red zone”, implying that only people officially residing in Rujeeb may be there. Their will to enforce this rule, however, seems halfhearted and we are not interrupted again.

As we walk back toward the village, with Rada singing a Sami Yusuf tune written in ode to his mother, we pass through a valley framed by the main settlements and outposts of Elon Moreh and Itamar. Rada’s husband tells us about how settlers planted a bomb under the car of the mayor of a nearby village, crippling him for life, after he had brought the settlement’s claims of land ownership to the Israeli Supreme Court and won.

We decide to meet tomorrow at the same time and wave goodbye to the children, wishing them a goodnight in the village accent that they have tried to teach us all day. It has been a good day, promising plenty of good days to come. Welcome to the olive harvest in Nablus, where harvesting is resisting.