Tag: Nablus

Stef’s Blog: settler road block temporarily becomes Israeli law

by Stef, Friday, November 10, 2006

On Wednesday I harvested in the village of Qaryot with another international volunteer and 2 Israelis, assisting 80-year-old Salimon, his brother Aziz, and his 27-year-old son Ahmed. We were greeted in the morning with a hearty “Buenos dias!” and warm smiles from the elder men. Both Salimon and Aziz spent 20 years working in Brazil, and during that time were unable to come home to see their children grow up. Between them they have a very large family and over 1,000 trees in the area, which is sandwiched between a few relatively new Israeli settlements. One is called Gilad — an extremist outpost that is illegal even by Israel’s standards.

Salimon and Aziz are friendly men of few words. We spent the day communicating through a bit of Arabic and also Spanish and Portuguese, which both men and some of the volunteers happened to speak. Salimon, whose hospitality is in true Palestinian style, watched us carefully and often re-lit the cigarettes he handed out, which must have gotten damp at some point. Aziz spent the day pruning the trees silently with his small saw, occasionally saying “Aaaiiii-wwaaa, tamam” (yes, good) and “Bueno” (good), when he cut a branch down and volunteers began to pick olives from it.

Earlier in the week Israeli settlers hiked down the hill to throw rocks at Palestinians harvesting in Qaryot, sending one man to the hospital with a head injury. Many families were afraid to return to finish picking, but the brothers who have land in the most dangerous area, were determined to finish.


The road-block made by the settlers.

We began the morning picking close to the settlement road. Within 10 minutes we were approached by three Israeli soldiers and three Israeli border policemen, who told us that we needed to stop for the day. Although we asked to see a court order that stated so, we were offered no explanation except “someone is coming with a map”. The brothers returned to picking and the volunteers attempted to join them. The soldiers demanded that we stop and not touch any olives until more of them arrived with answers to our questions.

Eventually more vehicles of soldiers, border police, and a military lawyer showed up. They also could not answer our questions, and as we stood around waiting and wasting precious picking time, they pulled out a map and started arguing over what to do. The founder of an Israeli human rights group with experience in the area showed up after our phone calls. He negotiated with them over an apparent land dispute that began recently when settlers created a dirt mound roadblock in order to claim some of the land as their own. One soldier even said: “It’s obviously Palestinian land, let’s just let them stay,” but it was decided that we were only allowed to harvest on the other side of the roadblock for the day, closest to the village.

Following the lead of the elders, we agreed and moved to an area that was not claimed by the settlers to continue picking. This felt frustrating since the trees are hundereds of years old like the village, and the settlement is only about 20 years old. Even though some of the soldiers and police disagreed with each other about who the land belongs to, the message this situation sends is pretty clear: it is possible for a simple mound of dirt placed in the road by Jewish extremists to throw legal borders into upheaval, effectively blocking the rightful owners from accessing and harvesting it.

The next day we met Salimon and Aziz again. After a successful negotiation on behalf of the human rights group, we spent the day picking olives beyond the roadblock, on the “disputed” land directly next to the settlement road. This time we brought more volunteers due to the high risk of attack. Throughout the day about two Humvess or jeeps full of Israeli soldiers and police watched us from a short distance. They claimed it was for our protection, but were clearly facing us and watching us with binoculars, not the settlement.

Eventually Aziz picked up his tarp and bucket and walked right over to the settlement entrance road, a couple feet from a guard dogs fence and about 200 feet from the nearest home. This is the closest to a settlement that any family I’ve been with over the last week and a half has dared to work. I get the impression that Aziz is not scared of anything, even though he said that most of his children are afraid to come harvest the land with him. The soldiers and police pulled their vehicles up right next to us, but we ignored them and continued picking until the brothers decided they were finished with the area for the day.

We returned to the village piled onto a tractor with large bags of olives. Aziz’s kaffiyeh blew in the wind as he smiled and waved to greet neighboring farmers. Salimon rode ahead on his donkey. Ahmad reported that we had picked a few hundred kilos of olives, and thanked us warmly for our presence. In the following days we will continue to have an international presence in Qaryot, until all of the olives are picked.

“The truth is plain for anyone to see” — account of Israeli incursion into a Nablus refugee camp

by ISM Nablus, November 15th

At 2.30 yesterday morning (the 14th), Israeli forces entered ‘Ein Beit El Ma refugee camp just North of Nablus city center, randomly shooting teargas and live ammunition into the camp as they entered. During the invasion, five people were lightly injured, including a 14-year old girl who was shot in the leg while standing in her hallway.

Israeli snipers took up strategic positions on Palestinian roofs and top-floors, evicting families as they did so. Awoken at gunpoint, men, women and children were forced out of their beds and made to sleep in hallways and storage rooms. One woman and her daughter were startled by a concussion grenade thrown outside their window and, unable to go back to sleep, moved into the living-room. Ten minutes later, 12 soldiers crawled through a large hole in the wall, knocking a heavy wardrobe onto the bed where the two women had been sleeping only moments before. Sledgehammer in hand, the first soldier to enter the home ordered the women to get into the kitchen and locked the door. They were released six hours later.

At least 20 homes were occupied by the Israeli military this morning. One distraught grandmother asked international solidarity workers to check on her three-year old grandson who was being held by Israeli soldiers on the top floor together with his mother and older siblings. After some negotiation, the soldiers left the house, leaving a scene of devastation in their wake that is sadly mirrored in every other neighbouring home. Bullet holes riddle walls and furniture, piles of rubble and shredded martyr posters lie in the alleyways below, children’s bedrooms are overturned.

Brown footprints from army issue boots stain mattresses, shards of glass hang from broken window frames, and grave children’s faces wander around on tired legs, looking up at their parents almost manically cleaning up the reminders of the invasion. Reclaiming some small sense of normality.

Earlier in the morning, a 26-year old PFLP resistance fighter, Baha, was shot in the waist by an Israeli sniper. Denied access to medical assistance, he bled to death an hour later. His mother was accompanied through the camp by solidarity workers in order to be able to say goodbye to her son in peace before the funeral procession. He lay on a mattress among his relatives, his jaw tied up with a bandage and with a determined but calm look on his face, younger than his years. His mother sat beside his head for a long while, stroking his hair and his folded arms, reminding him of something funny he had said last week and beating her cheeks in grief.

Meanwhile, two teenage Palestinian Medical Relief Society volunteers were abducted from where they stood on the outskirts of the camp by Israeli soldiers. They were blindfolded, handcuffed and bundled into a jeep, where they were held until solidarity workers were able to put enough pressure on the Israeli forces to release the volunteers. Six other men were detained inside the camp but released a couple of hours later.

The Israeli forces left the camp at about 11.00am. With teargas still lingering in the air, people stormed out onto the streets to inspect the damage. At least 5 cars had been crushed, dumped upside down or thrown into ditches by bulldozers and the sidewalks were crumbling.

Teary-eyed women and men marched through Nablus behind the stretcher carrying Baha’s body, loudspeakers blaring out a beautiful duet about a mother who loses her son to the struggle. Yet even without music, the solidarity and genuine grief exhibited by neighbours toward one another in the camp is touching and impressive.

As Hassan Ali Khatib, father of six, said “I do not need to take words from outside, or add anything to my story. I speak from my heart and that is enough. The truth here is plain for anyone with eyes to see it.” He had spent the entire night stuck on the far side of “Sabatash” checkpoint, worrying about his children and wife as he received more and more worrying reports from friends in the camp. Sitting on the couch with his youngest daughter beside him he looks up, suddenly optimistic, and starts talking about football. And so everyday life jump starts into action yet again.

See also this eyewitness account of the same events by the Guardian’s Conal Urquhart.

The Guardian: “Getting to know the neighbours”

by Conal Urquhart, November 14th

Isra Damouni is transported from the operating theatre pale and still, the latest casualty from the latest Israeli raid on Nablus.

The 16-year-old was lying in bed when a bullet pierced her window and hit her thigh at around 3.30am. She screamed and the soldiers threw a percussion grenade at the window. It detonated, shattering glass over her sister, Sabrine, 18, who had gone to her aid.

The pair are two of the 10 injured during a raid on al-Ein refugee camp in Nablus that began at 2am on Tuesday and ended at 10.30am. One man, a gunman from the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine, Baha Khateri, was shot dead. A crowd of men with red flags took his body away for burial while the doctors finished extracting the bullet from Isra’s leg.

The streets of Nablus are deserted by 10.30pm every night in anticipation of the arrival of the army. Sometimes, the troops go to the Balata and Askar refugee camps on the outskirts of Nablus; at others, to al-Ein and the Nablus kasbah in the centre. Sometimes they go to all of them. While the streets of Nablus may be Palestinian during the day, at night they belong to the Israeli army.

The purpose of each visit is different. Sometimes the soldiers make arrests or kill wanted men, but most of the time the raids are designed to provoke gunmen into taking on the Israelis. Last week in the kasbah, soldiers spent hours wandering around its alleyways, shouting, “Allahu Akhbar” and setting off percussion grenades. On Tuesday, the soldiers challenged the “mujahideen” to come out and fight them.

The Israeli army says Nablus has always been a centre of opposition to Israel and a major source of suicide bombers. While no Israelis have been hurt by bombers in six months, the army maintains a vice-like grip on the city by day and still attacks by night.

Residents of al-Ein said on Tuesday that in the 14 days of November, there have only been two nights when Israeli forces did not enter the small and crowded camp. On Tuesday, the army arrived at 2.30am. The soldiers fanned out and entered houses all over camp, ordering families into small rooms. The soldiers then either set up a sniper’s nest, by smashing holes in the wall or windows, or smashed through walls in order to enter neighbouring houses.

Tuesday’s damage begins at the main road of Nablus, which borders the camp. Pavements have been dug and a car has been dumped on its side on top of a memorial to members of the PFLP. Further up the road, cars have been barged by armoured bulldozers and some have been pushed into roadside ditches. Dozens of residents say the Israelis entered and damaged their homes.

Mufid Abu Rahman, an officer in the Palestinian police, says he and his extended family of 17 were forced to stay in a room for eight hours while soldiers used their house as a position. In his son’s room, gun slits were knocked through the walls, and the floor is littered with bullet cases from an M-16 and the larger cases from a sniper’s rifle.

“When the sun goes down, we hide. We try and make sure that no one sleeps near exterior walls or windows because of the danger of stray bullets,” he said.

The home of Hassan Khatib, 52, was also taken and his family were held for eight hours. The soldiers smashed a hole in the bedroom wall of his daughter to gain access to a neighbour’s home, a process known in the army as “getting to know the neighbours”. Mr Khatib said the main purpose of the raids was to initiate confrontations with gunmen who would not pick up a weapon if the Israeli army was not raiding their streets every night.

“We are living in peace, in our homes. Why should they come here? This creates a need for people to resist,” he said.

Isra and Sabrina were lying in their beds when they came under fire. The walls are plain, apart from three family photographs and certificate of proficiency in English presented to Isra by the US consul general. The doctors say that Isra should make a full recovery, in spite of waiting eight hours to get to hospital, while Sabrina has light cuts on her face and has been temporarily deafened by the blast.

The clear-up operation begins the moment the Israelis leave. Cranes and engineers arrive to assess the damage and begin repairs to buildings, roads, phone lines and electricity lines. The ambulances are finally able to get to the wounded and the one fatality, who is immediately prepared for his funeral. Assessors from the ministry of social affairs come with their clipboards.

The Nablus Civil Society offers a small sum of compensation for injuries and house damage, which is funded by Palestinian and international benefactors.

Nasseer Arafat, a director of the society, said: “We receive details of damages and injuries from the PA and we give $150 (£79) to anyone that is injured. It is a small amount, but its main purpose is to let people know they are not alone. In the last five years, we have spent $13m in Nablus alone.”

See also this ISM Nablus eyewitness account of the same events.

Photostory: The Old City of Nablus

by Bill Dienst MD, November 13th,

Nablus, population 113 thousand, is the West Bank’s second largest city: second only to East Jerusalem. Founded during the time of the Romans, it is over 2000 years old.

Here is a fruit market in the center of town.

The heart of Nablus is Al Dowaar Square, also known as Martyr’s (Shaheed’s) Square.

Since the second intifada, many have died defending Nablus from Israeli attacks.

On Friday we face Mecca, and pray for an end to our oppression.

For when cats are trapped in the alley, they will hiss and fight by all means necessary in order to survive; until Israel renounces violence and recognizes Palestine’s right to exist . . . with full and equal rights; just like the Israelis: in a sovereign and independent nation with full control of its borders, its air and sea space, and its economy.

We have no choice but to trust in God.

Palestine has the right to defend itself. Here are some posters of dead local fighters. Lebanon and Iraq have the right to defend themselves too: from brutal military invasions and colonial occupation.

Much of the ancient Old City of Nablus was bombed in the spring of 2002. It has since been rebuilt.

It is Friday, the day of worship for Muslims. That’s Al Harbell Mosque in the distance.

Young girls of Nablus.

These boys are crazy for their city, and are determined to free their city from Israeli occupation.

This is Mr. Eid, who is a tailor, making a comforter.

Most of the shops are closed today because it is Friday.

Negotiating Daily Life: Land Access and Checkpoint Encounters

by Steph, November 6th

During this last week while I’ve been picking olives in the Nablus area with Palestinian families and occasionally encountering/confronting soldiers, I’ve been thinking a lot about the role of negotiation in daily life here in Palestine, and also about the role of internationals in that. I often find myself in situations where Palestinians ask for us to talk with soldiers in order to help them gain access to a place, but I’m concerned about how this sometimes could be seen as accommodating the occupation.

Here are some examples of situations I’ve been in recently:

Aside from going through checkpoints, one of my first contacts with soldiers this week was during my third day of harvesting, in the village of Tel. Four of us internationals went to Tel because farmers there often have problems crossing the settler road that cuts between their village and most of their agricultural land. Although Palestinians have the right to access their land, this village had reported recent incidents of denied access.

In the morning, we headed down the hill towards the road, a large and lively group of families and donkeys. Just as we began to cross the road, a jeep of four soldiers pulled up and ordered everyone to stop. The 20-minute conversation between the soldiers and us internationals was something to the effect of them telling us they knew that the farmers had the right to cross the road, but insisted they needed to see IDs from the four of us, as well as from the young men in the group. We tried to reason with them, asking that they let the farmers go ahead, but they would not budge.

It went on and on like this for a while. The soldiers took the hawwiyas (ID cards) of two young men, and claimed they had to check on them. Eventually, the villagers decided to turn back and take another route to their land, through a drainpipe under the road. Some farmers explained that the soldiers often deny them the right to cross the street, telling them instead to go under it in this way. I don’t know what the point of this is, other than to make life more difficult for Palestinians.

When we were told that we were cleared to go, we informed the soldiers that we would stay with the 2 men whose hawwiyas they had taken, until they were finished with them. They seemed surprised by this and immediately returned them to their owners, clearly not actually needing to check up on them.

In this case, I wondered what might have happened if we weren’t there, and my question was answered the next day when our contact in Tel called to report an incident in which soldiers held some farmers who were not accompanied by internationals for over an hour, and dumped a few bags of picked olives onto the ground. I’ve learned this week, mostly through the incidents in which we were not present, that the high court decision about farmers’ rights to access their land safely is only selectively enforced. At the same time, it never feels good to try to negotiate with soldiers for rights that Palestinians already legally have, even if it works at the time.

On Saturday evening, on the way home from dinner, we got a call that Sabatash Checkpoint, on the outskirts of the city, was closed and about 200 Palestinians were waiting in the rain and cold. Thinking we might be able to change the situation, we headed over there at 8:45pm. We arrived to a tense situation of about twelve packed taxis and buses in line and over 100 men in the street waiting. Soldiers had blocked the checkpoint with razor wire and were just standing around. It was dark, raining and cold, and the watchtower was shining a spotlight all over the crowd. People who had been there since 2pm told us about an incident earlier in the day when a man was shot in the leg for verbally defending a woman who was touched by male soldiers after refusing to lift up her shirt. Nobody had been allowed through the checkpoint since.

The eight of us walked up to the checkpoint, and a few crossed the razor wire against the soldiers’ orders to go back. We began talking with them, asking why they wouldn’t let anyone through, and trying to appeal to them by explaining that many had been waiting for over five hours in the cold and rain. It took a lot of talking and complaining and negotiating, but within twenty minutes the soldiers agreed to allow the women through, then the university students on buses, the trucks, and finally, after two hours, the shebab (young men).

While it’s clear that the presence of eight American and European activists was a positive force in changing the situation (after nearly seven hours of closure, they reopened it within twenty minutes of our arrival and confrontation), it does not remain in my mind as a success. As we left, I felt uneasy, thinking about all the times we aren’t able to be there to make changes, and then reminding myself that relying on our presence as internationals in order to open checkpoints, grant land access and provide protection, also isn’t a solution to the problem. In fact, it makes me feel even more a part of this brutal occupation.

The next day we were called back to “Sabatash” and told it was once again closed. When we arrived, the lines of people were moving, but slowly. We decided to leave but then realized that the soldiers were not going to let a group of women walk through, claiming that only people in cars could pass. This is a difficult place to get a taxi and it was cold out, so we tried once again to negotiate them through. A soldier told us he needed to stick by his orders, and couldn’t in his conscience allow them through. Most of our responses to him went something like “But isn’t it worse to have on your conscience that you made a group of women with small children stand in the cold?” and “How would you feel if someone made your mother or sister do this?” Eventually, we suggested that the soldiers get a taxi so the women could go through, and they agreed. We left feeling infuriated that it took international activists relentlessly making suggestions and bothering them, to get the soldiers to actually do it. And once again our involvement made a small change in the situation, but not in the occupation or in this all-too-common process.

If I am in a place where I am asked by Palestinians to try to make a difference, and my negotiating or confronting soldiers can make a situation even temporarily better, I of course feel obligated to do it. Meanwhile, I struggle with my part in creating expectations that Palestinians (or internationals) must negotiate for rights that are either already there on paper, or should be. This is also not a sustainable solution, and I hope that we can all continue to use various tactics in order to directly challenge the occupation, even while trying to maintain a basic level of dignity here in daily life.