Tag: Nablus

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.

“The only way to live” — fear and fury in Urif and Asira

by ISM Nablus

Urif, 9th November

There is chaos in the air. A couple of the young boys have climbed up to one of the upper ridges of the hillside and are scorching the earth with a small blowtorch — an ancient agricultural technique designed to improve the quality of the soil. “Come down immediately! The settlers will shoot you!” the other villagers shout. But their father, the mayor, is back in the Palestinian village and they will not listen to reason. Everyone has stopped picking now and is gazing warily up toward the Israeli settlement of Yitzhar, straining their eyes to see if there is anyone peering out from under one of the red-tiled roofs, gun in hand. Finally, the boys relent to the ever louder protests coming from the valley and saunter down the hill to join their family and neighbors.

The villagers of Urif have been unable to harvest their olives from the groves near Yitzhar for almost six years. Three years ago, one young man in his early twenties was shot dead by Yitzhar colonists, while three other men were badly injured. The trauma imprinted into the hearts of the people here is readily apparent, despite the rather heavy military and police presence around the groves. Israeli soldiers are stationed at regular intervals along the mountain ridges and police come down to check IDs and expel any non-Palestinian from the area. Unfortunately this also includes international solidarity workers, who are relegated to an area further down the valley.

The Israeli military forces seem largely unaware of the threat they pose to Palestinian villagers, even when their presence serves to deter settler attacks. The valley of olives opens up into a circle of land closed in by a settler by-pass road and several settler outposts. The villagers of Urif seem much more willing to enter this area when soldiers are not present. The days pass as one long series of nervous advances and retreats. As the police jeep drives off, people hastily haul their tarpaulin sheets and buckets off the tractor, picking at the nearest tree and stuffing their olives into anything that will hold them — pockets, plastic bags and headscarves.

A grandmother, stunning in a leopard print pinafore and black eyeliner, stays behind in the valley, touching her heart as she speaks of her children and her fears for their safety. Some of her grandchildren and their friends gather around her, their faces grubby and sweaty from work. Yet they do not pick much these days, able only to gather the confidence and calm needed to concentrate on the harvest for a few minutes at a time. Most of their energy is spent on looking out for settlers and soldiers, talking about what they will do if they do come, making sure that someone stays behind to make sure that their trees are not burned down in retaliation for a successful harvest.

Yesterday afternoon, when the police had left for the day, several Yitzhar settlers ventured into the valley. One was on horseback and rode all around the valley, occasionally stopping to peer down the slope at the Palestinian harvesters, silently slumped in his saddle. Five others were play fighting with each other, kicking and jostling along the roadside. All six of them finally retreated to a tin shack that Yitzhar inhabitants set up only a few days ago, jumping their horse over a fence over and over again and whooping with laughter. The villagers of Urif watched from the other side of the valley, now cold in the shadow cast by the mountain opposite, the smug profile of Yitzhar taunting them as it shone in the afternoon sun.

A row of identical white houses on the rim of a valley. This is the challenge that drives the villagers of Urif to get out of their beds in the morning and face the fear that otherwise would consume them. It’s tiring, as witnessed on the face of mayor Abu Ammar. But, as he says “it is the only way to live. We must go on, or give up and be shamed in front of our children.”

Asira Al-Qibliye, Saturday 11th November

“No, no, I’m not going up there”, our driver says, shaking his head and stepping down from the military-made roadblock. “It is too dangerous. I am sorry, you will have to go on your own.” We look down at the fork in the settler by-pass road. A large sign saying “Yitzhar” points up the hill. On the West side of the road leading up to the Yitzhar colony is a large olive grove with trees in tidy rows, but in order to get there the Palestinian owners of the land, from the village of Asira Al-Qibliye, have to cross one major settler thoroughfare and then trek up along another.

Six years ago, the elderly mother of one of the farmers was shot in the stomach by settlers from Yitzhar and had to undergo extensive surgery. The settlers had come down to physically assault the olive harvesters. Since then, the farmers have been reluctant to go to their land for fear of further settler harassment. The land is overgrown with thorns and untended, yet the branches of the trees still weigh down heavily with big juicy olives.

About twenty women and two men from several different families harvested their olives today, in a big rush to finish before the settlers would detect them. Working quickly and efficiently, and yet still finding the time and composure to sing one or two songs in honour of the beautiful sunny day, they were able to finish without any Israeli interference.

Scottish Rabbis volunteer threatened with deportation during olive harvest

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Theresa McDermont, a volunteer from Scotland who came to pick olives with Palestinian farmers and Israeli rabbis today sits in an Israeli detention cell, awaiting deportation. She is not being charged with any crime.

Theresa, a post office worker, has been detained since the 31st of October. She will have a court hearing on the 13th of November and her attorney is Gabi Laski. She came to the country to join Israeli group Rabbis for Human Rights. The group of rabbis and other Israeli and international volunteers are invited by Palestinian farmers to help pick olives during this year’s harvest. Palestinian olive pickers have been facing violence from Israeli settlers and harassment from Israeli soldiers.

On the 8th of November, another olive harvest volunteer with Rabbis was released from Israeli detention. Sam Grafton, a twenty-six year old theatre director from Britain had been picking olives with a Palestinian family in a Nablus village. The Israeli colony of Yitshar had been built near the the family’s olive groves. Israeli border police ordered Sam out of the area and arrested him. The next day, they brought him before a judge who released Sam on conditions that restrict his movement within the Palestinian areas.

Theresa was put into detention on her way into the country and is unlikely to get off so easily.

For more information:
Attorney Gabi Lasky: 054 441 8988
Arik Asherman, Rabbis for Human Rights: 050 560 7034 or 02 648 2757