Life on Bir Zeit Campus

Israel’s interrogation of Islam Dar Ayyoub Tamimi, age 14: video reveals rights abuses

2012-01-27T19:57:00.003+02:00

A year ago on January 23, 14-year-old Islam Dar Ayoub Tamimi was arrested at gunpoint after the Israeli army surrounded his house at around 1:30am. A few days before, on January 17, Islam’s house was one of many in the village of Nabi Saleh that were raided by the Israeli Occupation Forces (IOF), where the soldiers then proceeded to take pictures of all males over the age of 12.

A month later, Islam’s younger brother eleven year old Kareem was chased down and hauled off by the Israeli police where he was illegally interrogated for two hours before getting released.

During his arrest, Islam was taken out of bed at gunpoint and violently taken to a military jeep, handcuffed and blindfolded. His brother Omar (who remains in detention after getting arrested during the West Bank car protest on Israeli only roads earlier this month) was beaten up as he tried to help Islam.

According to an email interview with Israeli anti-occupation activist Jonathan Pollak:

Islam was then taken to a military base in the nearby Jewish-only settlement of Halamish, where he was kept outside in the cold, still blindfolded and handcuffed, and was not allowed any sleep. He was then taken to a police station in the Mishor Edomim settlement for questioning, where he arrived at around 8:00 in the morning.

He was asked to sign a document in Hebrew, but it was a (flawed) summery of his interrogation. This happened after he was finally allowed to see his lawyer, and he refused to sign it. The video shows that the Hebrew document was read to him in Arabic before he was asked to sign it.

After his interrogation he was taken to Ofer, and then, a few days after to Rimonim prison (which is part of Hasharon prison complex), which is a detention center for minors. To the best of my knowledge, he was imprisoned together with other Palestinians, not Israel criminal prisoners.

The judge didn’t admit Islam was under psychological pressure and felt threatened per se, but rather wrote that indeed his rights were violated (which in some cases, would have rendered his testimony inadmissible) but that in this specific case, from looking at the tape, it seems he was treated well during the interrogation and spoke of his own free will. [In other words] she believes that the impact of the violations on him, in this specific case, was not severe enough.

Islam was released on 4 April 2011, after 71 days in detention, but remained under full house arrest. The conditions of his house arrest were changed at the beginning of the school year (in September) so that he is allowed to go to school. He still remains under partial house arrest.

The military judge, Major Sharon Livnin, ruled that Islam’s confession despite his unlawful interrogation was legitimate enough to be used as evidence in the trial of Bassem Tamimi:

“In my opinion, the infringement on the defendant’s rights in this concrete case, did not amount to a violation of his right in a way that will sufficiently endanger his right to a fair trial […].”

The Popular Struggle website outlies some of the ways Islam’s rights were violated:

The boy was arrested at gunpoint in the dead of night, during a violent military raid on his house.
Despite being a minor, he was denied sleep in the period between his arrest and questioning, which began the following morning and lasted over 5 hours.
Despite being told he would be allowed to see a lawyer, he was denied legal counsel, although his lawyer appeared at the police station requesting to see him.
He was denied his right to have a parent present during his questioning. The testimony of one of his interrogators before the court suggests that he believes Palestinian minors do not enjoy this right.
He was not informed of his right to remain silent, and was even told by his interrogators that he “must tell of everything that happened.”
Only one of four interrogators who participated in the questioning was a qualified youth interrogator.

At the beginning of a video documenting Islam’s interrogation in the presence of two interrogators (uploaded by the Popular Struggle Coordination Committee’s youtube channel), the boy asks if he will be allowed to go home soon. One of the interrogators barks at him, “Wait, we’re doing an interrogation here.” The one at the computer types in “student” as the other affirms that Islam is a reporter’s assistant. At 43 seconds, Islam asks again if he’s going to go home that night, explaining that he has an exam the next day.

At 1:15, one of the interrogators accuses Islam that he along with other youth were throwing stones at Israeli army jeeps and participating in protests, which are “against the law” and (at 2:30) a “breach of public security.” The same interrogator (at 2:58) then proceeds to tell Islam that he has a right to see a lawyer, but that if he chooses not to answer any questions, that can be further used as solidified evidence against him in court. At 3:29 the interrogator says, “You’re a little boy. Inshallah [God willing] we’ll finish with the interrogation soon, but we want you to tell us all the right things. Understand? We’ll show you pictures of people throwing rocks, including you.”

Almost half an hour later, a third interrogator joins the room. Islam is in the middle of explaining an injury to his leg sustained during one of the protests.

At 4:40 Islam gives the name and age of one of the youths in the village. The third interrogator punches his hand into his fist. The video goes to another interval, where one of the interrogators cuts off Islam, who is in the middle of describing how the youth hide in houses when the army surrounds them, by calling them as mice. The third interrogator says in his rolling accent, “Like Tom and Jerry.” He then suddenly shouts, “Those poor things! Those unfortunates!”

At 5:59, the same interrogator snaps at Islam not to breathe in his face. Islam replies that he hasn’t slept. At 6:39 the interrogator asks Islam what the job of the first “brigade” was, before snickering that he was going to catch the flu from Islam.

At 7:05, another interrogator enters the room. At 7:30 Islam announces he wants to go home because of his school exams.

At 7:50 one of the interrogators asks Islam how many people were in each brigade.

At 8:28 Islam asks if the latest interrogator is the one responsible for taking him home.

At 9:18, after almost three hours (2 hours and 42 minutes to be exact) of interrogation, the psychological stress becomes all too evident as Islam breaks down into tears. When asked why he’s crying, Islam replies that he’s afraid he’s going to fail his school year. He elaborates, “If I fail then the school won’t let me come back to repeat the year.”

At 11:08 The interrogator asks, “What did he tell them?” Islam replies, his voice wobbling, “He told us to wait at the intersection and to take the cardboards to the shrine. We’d take them to Uncle Naji and Uncle Bassem without knowing what was in them. Motasem wanted to know what was in them so once he opened one and found gas masks.”

At 11:39, a new addition is in the room: the only qualified female youth interrogator.

At 12:43, the interrogator that rolls his R’s slaps Islam’s shoulders, saying “You’re happy that the officers got hit by stones, right?”

At 13:35 the interrogators order Islam to raise his head and to sit up straight, telling him that it will all be over soon. Islam’s been in interrogation for more than four hours at this point.

At 13:55 Islam asks when the interrogation will be over. One of the interrogators replies, “In half an hour. We have to first check if what you said is all true, and then we’ll see what will happen. I don’t want to see you here again.”

At 14:35 the interrogator flicks Islam’s arms, which are resting his head, and tells him to raise his head up. “When the interrogator is in the room, raise your head up. Yell at him. And if possible, you beat him up!”

The other interrogator shows Islam a photograph and asks him who the person in it is.

After more than five hours of interrogation, Islam yawns and asks for the time. It’s 2:30 pm, answers the interrogator. Islam turns to the stoic female interrogator and tells her he hasn’t slept since yesterday.

At 15:12, Islam is left alone with the female interrogator. He asks if it’s over yet. She replies, “in a little bit.” Islam then asks her if she’s Israeli or an Arab. She answers, “What do you think? I speak Arabic. I’m an Arab.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I work.”

“You work as what?”

“Just work.”

At 16:52, Islam yawns, “Please God, take me home. I am so tired.”

Islam’s unlawful interrogation was used to incriminate and arrest Bassem and Naji Tamimi, who are actively involved in Nabi Saleh’s weekly popular resistance protests, a couple of months later in March. Nabi Saleh began its protest back in December 2009, after settlers from the illegal settlement of Halamish built upon the village’s land further expropriated the village’s main water supply and spring, Al-Kaws. Naji agreed to a plea bargain, and was subsequently sentenced to a year in prison plus a 20,000 shekel fine. Bassem refused to do the same, and has still not been sentenced, despite spending ten months behind bars since his arrest. When Islam was put on the stand in court in November 2011, he admitted that he had given false testimony due to the immense pressure he was under before and during his interrogation.

Back in late November last year, I sat with Bassem’s wife, Nariman Tamimi, who talked about her husband’s trial, the baseless charges against him, why Naji accepted the deal and Bassem didn’t, and the weekly protests in Nabi Saleh in the video below. She rejects labeling her husband or Naji as “leaders of the protests”, maintaining that this was the characterization given to them by the Israeli authorities in order to accuse them of the charges, as any child participating in the protests is capable of leading. She contents that she doesn’t “recognize the occupier’s right to exist to recognize the legitimacy of their courts” and that she attends the trials because she wants to see her husband who “is my best friend and partner.” When asked about Bassem’s morale, Nariman replies, “He’s always been so strong and optimistic. His spirits are so high and make you stronger, instead of the opposite.”

Thanks to Jan Beddegenoodts for the video

#OccupyBZU to #BZUProtest

2012-01-22T18:40:00.012+02:00

It's a sign of the times we're living in when hashtags are perfectly acceptable as titles, and I'm sure there are countless thesis dissertations in progress attributing this as another significant regime-tackling phenomenons of social media. Suffice to say, it is increasingly obvious where people get much of their news from nowadays.

Last week on Tuesday the 17th, a number of students from Birzeit University protested the totalitarian fixtures regarding tuition costs and financial measures introduced at the start of the second semester, which left 1200 students unable to continue their education because of the expensive costs. Dozens walked inside the administrative building, and were subsequently locked in by security. Thus, #OccupyBZU was commenced.

One of my main problems with my time at Birzeit University was the lack of any concrete student activism, overtaken instead by the simulated scenes and atmosphere of a US high school as shown in Hollywood movies. That's all fine and dandy since not everyone wants to be at the forefront of tackling social change or even challenging Captain Israel to an arm-wrestling match, but when the circumstances are crying out for it, there is no excuse left to remain passive. The glory days of BZU were during the first intifada, the late 80's to the early 90's, where students were largely involved in peaceful resistance against the Israeli military occupation. One such demonstration was attending classes in empty buildings in defiance of Israeli military orders. Students were one of the important driving forces behind the mass protests and civil disobedience in Palestinian society. That of course didn't come without its sacrifices; another name for Birzeit University is the Martyrs' University/ جامعةالشهداء due to its thirteen students killed by Israel.

The Oslo Accords can be explained as the reason for the students' growing detachment from politics, despite the student parties within the university itself being derivatives of Palestinian political parties. The second intifada ushered in armed resistance as the primary method of response against Israel's increasingly unbearable occupation, which contrary to the first intifada, isolated sectors of the Palestinian society from being a true popular uprising. Coordination with the other eight universities in the West Bank and Gaza Strip became more difficult. Factionalism reared its ugly face following the US backed civil fighting between Hamas and Fateh back in 2006. Politics on campus became repressive, and used as a platform to trash talk the rival party. Some male students belonging to Hamas' Kutla Islamiyeh bloc were imprisoned by the Palestinian Authority. Instead of the students of the Fateh university Shabeeba group demanding their release, the act was further augmented by incendiary accusations and wholehearted support. These antics only managed to alienate a large number of students who find no representative as they are not affiliated to any political student party, and "student activism" took the role of proudly parroting each respective party's propaganda.

The above serves as an explanation for the disillusionment concerning the possibility for any meaningful act to take place on campus. These protests against financial matters are hardly news. In fact, it is the norm at the beginning of every single semester. They always take the same cycle: Students protest, each student political party writes up a statement, get out their best throaty orator backed with factional music, and proceed to threaten the university's administration with calls of prolonged strikes. The whole thing lasts for a week, with actions escalating then diminishing as fast as if they never happened, without any success achieved. The same Spartan students go from building to building, classroom to classroom, informing the other students that classes have been suspended for the day, right under the nose of the professor. They order the students to leave the classrooms, leave the building, and join them in a demonstration in front of the administration building. Hardly anyone listens, and see this as an opportunity to hang out with friends. The buildings then get put on lock down for an indefinite time period, even if there are students and professors inside. Tires are burned at the gates of the university, the gates themselves get locked with chains brought from who knows where, and the student portal Ritaj becomes useless as it doesn't give out updates for whether there will be classes on this day or not.

The point is that these drastic actions serve as a cry for attention, as their repetitive nature hardly achieve whatever demands the student parties champion out through the state of the art loudspeakers. But Tuesday, January the 17th excited a lot of people, myself included because it was the first time students staged a sit-in overnight. The following morning, more details began to emerge and were shared on Twitter.

It turned out that students, contrary to initial thoughts, did not purposely mean to stay overnight in the administrative building. 76 students merely went inside to protest peacefully, and found themselves locked in by security after the administrative staff vacated the building. Allegedly, one security guard taunted the students by saying, "Let's see who's man enough to stay here for the night." The radiators were turned off, and the students spent the night without blankets or food, shivering as a storm raged outside. For those who had to use the bathroom, they were allowed outside but were prevented from going back in. As a result, 22 students were left inside the administrative building. The following morning, one student's health deteriorated rapidly but the administrative prohibited him from receiving immediate medical attention. The university dean Dr Khalil Hindi issued a media blackout on the whole situation.

The most austere financial measure imposed was that a student's tuition had to be paid in full before the new semester begins, in order for the student to choose his/her own classes. This is outrageous to say the least. Tuition costs are usually paid in money installments twice a semester, in an attempt to alleviate some families' financial stresses. Non-elected Prime Minister Salam Fayyad may have succeeded in transforming the West Bank, and Ramallah specifically into a capitalist consumerism society, but Birzeit University doesn't host only the privileged rich kids. I remember one time taking a group of high school seniors from Jenin on a quick tour on campus, and one of the chaperoning teachers told me he couldn't afford to send his kids to Birzeit Uni because the tuition was more than his monthly salary. The university is suffering from financial losses because the Palestinian Authority owes it money from three years.

10 students from Bethlehem University went on hunger strike also protesting the changed tuition policies, before #OccupyBZU even started. Speaking of "Occupy" (a word I don't like for apparent reasons) the hashtag was changed to #ProtestBZU because the administration accused the students of occupying the building--ignoring the fact that they were locked in-- thus painting the whole sit-in unfavorably as it is in their interests to do so.

The protest seemingly had the support of the majority of the students, those affiliated with parties and those who were not. For once it wasn't an act pulled by Hamas, or Fateh, or the Left (Jabha). Some even went so far as to label it the Birzeit Spring:

More pictures found here

The protest continued for the next couple of days. The gates of the university were still closed, the students still inside the building. The university's workers' union tried to mediate between the demands of the students and the administration but found that the administration ignored the demands and flat out refused to even talk, let alone negotiate with a group of students who were not the official representative. When the student council finally announced their support for the locked in students, the administration still refused to talk. Even after a committee composed of representatives of all eight student parties as well as from the student council was agreed upon, the administration still refused to talk. Their arrogance is a staple in their job description. The bureaucratic system of Birzeit University is one of the worst I've ever had the misfortune to encounter. Other students brought tents and pitched them outside the gate, where they too staged a sit-in. The media blackout was still in place, with everyone getting updates and information from students on site tweeting away. Reports had it that Dr Hindi cut off the internet on campus, an act that Mubarak would have applauded...or in hindsight, maybe not.

Then on Saturday, a press conference was called at 10am. At 12pm was another press conference for the administration. The blackout was lifted. The vice president of the university denounced the protesting students as having an agenda. For their part, the students finally made the financial and academic demands public. This threw the whole protest into a different light, as some of the demands were pretty stupid, to put it bluntly. Speaking to other students, they told me that the behavior of the protesting students was far from angelic in directing their speeches towards the dean, as if he were a despicable despot. Regardless, if you're going to protest peacefully, willing to endure days of cold and mistreatment, then whatever you're protesting for should be worthwhile, practical, and most importantly, in the interests of the students themselves. Many found issue with the academic demands (seems like the sillier points, such as raising the number of times a student was allowed to fail a class before getting suspended permanently from three to five were omitted, see below) while the financial ones were more sensible.

Financial Demands (translated from here)

For every student to have the chance to pay his or her tuition in money installments throughout the semester, especially students who have previous debts and did not have the chance to register for this semester, and for them to register on the back of what they could pay according to their financial status, and to pay the rest of the tuition throughout the semester.

To give preferential treatment to students with special and social needs and students who were prisoners in Israeli jails, and for them to register with ease through what is mentioned in point number one.

For the university to restart the system of accepting cheques as a form of money installments or at least to find a new mechanism for paying tuition costs as agreed upon by the students and the administration.

To give scholarships to sibling students without going through the bureaucratic ladder, regardless of whether these students have already received financial aid or not.

To conduct a thorough survey among all students in order to see who is eligible for financial aid. This way financial aid will not go to students who don't need it, which has posed as an obstacle to the students who are in actual need.

Academic Demands

To open the registration for classes (add/drop week) especially for students who were late in paying their tuition as stipulated in point number one, and to open sections

To reconsider the policy of transferring from one major to the next, which grows more complicated without any justification, without affecting the academic and educational level of the university.

To not give elevated courses to inexperienced or newly graduated teachers and to preserve the quality of academic level.

An agreement was reached on Sunday. The administration finally got off its high horse long enough to agree to all of the financial demands, but wouldn't agree to any of the academic ones pointing out it was beyond their reach to make changes regarding this aspect. Normal classes are set to resume on Tuesday, the 24th.

Meanwhile, five students from Bethlehem University have been hospitalized as a result of the hunger strike they started last Monday. More students have vowed to join in the hunger strike, raising the total to thirty students, seven who have been on strike since last week.

From Ma'an News Agency:

The administration suspended classes last Tuesday, saying it could not ensure students' safety on campus because of the protests, which have included all-night sit-ins.

The student senate, which is leading the protest, said it had tried to end the crisis by offering the university 40,000 Jordanian dinars ($56,400) from the Fatah movement to exempt students from tuition fee increases. It said the university had not responded to the initiative.

Instead of treating symptoms, the source of the sickness must be treated first. Birzeit students may have succeeded in achieving their financial demands, but what about the cause for the rise in tuition costs? It's not all down to the university's miserliness. The Palestinian Authority is in debt, plain and simple. It has done absolutely nothing to build and sustain a homegrown economy, relying instead on overwhelming foreign donor money. Austerity measures have recently been introduced, with citizens required to pay a minimum of a 5% tax increase and a maximum of 30%. The PA takes the billions of dollars it is granted by governments, and hardly invests them in community building projects or in Palestinian society in general, unless you count the mushrooming number of bars and expensive restaurants that cater to the elite. Dissolving the PA would pop the bubble of normalcy under occupation, and there'd be a good chance of Palestinians of finally realizing that their houses, cars, laptops-all on loans- and lifestyles they cannot afford are worth nothing while they are still under Israeli occupation.

So I call on all students in the West Bank to rise up, first against the parasitical PA, then against the occupation once and for all.

Palestinians for Syria/تحية فلسطينية للثورة السورية

2012-01-21T20:08:00.001+02:00

تحية فلسطينية للثورة السورية
21.1.12 يوم الغضب العالمي لنصرة الشعب السوري
ثورة سلمية.. ضد التدخل الأجنبي.. ضد الطائفية والفئوية..
منذ عشرة شهور يسير الشعب السوري نحو الحرية وثقتنا به لا تشوبها شائبة لذا نرى أن من واجبنا أن نحذره من خطر التدخل الأجنبي وأن نشد على أياديه للحفاظ على سلمية الثورة التي عودتنا منذ بدايتها على رفض الطائفية والفئوية.
منذ عشرة شهور يسير الشعب السوري نحو الحرية بثبات، رغم تعثر خطواته التي يقطعها إجرام نظام بشار الأسد بأسلحة كانت أولى بحرب تحرير أرضه المحتلة، أو يقطعها اختلاف من ائتمنهم الشعب السوري على تمثيله.
منذ عشرة شهور يسير الشعب السوري نحو الحرية يسقط في مسيرِه شهيدا من يسقط، دون أن يَحدّ القتل ومحاولة تفريق الصفوف من صموده البطولي.
منذ عشرة شهور يسير الشعب السوري نحو الحرية والعالم كله يُحلل شعارات مظاهراته وتحقق الفضائيات نسب المشاهدة المرتفعة فوق دماء شهدائه ويبيع الإعلام الكلام والصور عن حرب أهلية أو مؤامرة، ويتهالك على سورية من لم يدعموا يومًا الحرية والديمقراطية في شرقنا، معتقدين أن مؤامراتهم ونواياهم تنطلي علينا. ونحن على ثقة أن هذه المؤامرات ستتهاوى عند أقدام الشعب السوري العربي العريق، حالما يستعيد عافيته.
عشرة شهور ونحن نتفرج ونؤدلج الموقف ونتفادى مشاهدة الجثث الممثل بها والنساء اللواتي لا يتظاهرن خوفا من الرصاص وننتقي القناة التي سنشاهد فيها خبر استشهاد ثلاثين وسبعين ومئة سوريّةً وسوريًّا ونخجل من تضامننا البائس. . وعندما ينتهي كل يوم ثوري تنام عشرات الأسر السورية دون أحد أبنائها ودون أن يقاسمها ألمها أحد.
نحن نشطاء ومدونون فلسطينيون، وفي يوم التضامن العالمي مع الثورة السورية، نؤكد وقوفنا إلى جانب الشعب السوري الثائر. نرفض بشدة استخدامنا واستخدام قضية فلسطين كسجادة يكنس نظام الأسد جثث ثوار سورية تحتها ثم يدوس عليها أمام عيوننا جميعا. لنفكر عميقا بما يدور حول الثورة السورية وداخلها لكن لنترك التحليل المفرط والفذلكة جانبا لأن الثمن ليس أقل من دماء إخوتنا. لندعم الثورة السورية لتظل ثورة ترفض التدخل الأجنبي وتلفظ الطائفية وتحتفظ بسلميتها، فدون ثقتنا جميعا بها ودعمنا لها لن يكون لنا أي حق بالتنظير والمزاودة على

الشعب السوري الذي يُقتل كل دقيقة.

Palestinians for Syria

21/01/12 is the Global Day Of Rage For Syria

A peaceful revolution…a revolution against foreign intervention…a revolution against sectarianism and factions.This is the revolution of the Syrian people we know.

For ten months now the Syrian people have marched towards freedom and we have no doubt that they will achieve their liberation. For this reason we see it as a duty to warn them of the dangers of foreign intervention and to express our support for their peaceful revolution against sectarianism and factions.

For ten months the Syrian people have marched steadily towards freedom, despite the criminal oppression of Bashar al-Assad’s regime which uses weapons against its own people, instead of using them to liberate their occupied land, and despite the disagreements among their representatives whom the people gave trust in.

For ten months the Syrian people have marched towards freedom as martyr after martyr is sacrificed, which has only strengthened their resolve and steadfastness to continue their march.

For ten months the Syrian people have marched towards freedom as the world analyzes the meanings behind slogans raised in protests, and satellite channels have garnered more viewers with the increase in bloodshed and murders. The media sells to its viewers talks of a conspiracy or of a civil war, and many powers, sells us their support to freedom or democracy in the Middle East, when they never did. We are confident that these plots will fail and be crushed under the feet of the Syrian Arab People.

Ten months and we have avoided watching the disfigured bodies and the brave women who do not fear facing the live ammunition. Ten months and we chose which channel to hear from about the news of 30, 70, 100 martyrs of Syria, which made us ashamed from our miserable show of solidarity, as at the end of every day dozens of families lose their sons and daughters, with seemingly no one to share their pain with.

We, Palestinian activists and bloggers, on the Global Day of Rage for Syrian Revolution, stress our support for the brave revolutionary Syrians. We strongly reject manipulating the Palestinian cause as a cover under which the Syrian martyrs’ bodies are brushed under and stamped upon by Bashar al-Assad’s regime. It is true we must think logically about the dynamics of the Syrian revolution, but we must put the overwrought analyses aside, because the cost is the blood of our Syrian brothers and sisters. We reiterate our support for the peaceful Syrian revolution and its rejection of foreign intervention amidst the threats of sectarianism, as without our solidarity and faith we have no right in theorizing and preaching to the Syrians who are being murdered one after the other.
KLO

Follow Up Protest for #No2Negotiations

2012-01-20T01:29:00.002+02:00

In a blatant demonstration of the Palestinian Authority’s colossal gap between the interests of itself and the people it claims to represent, unelected chief negotiator Saeb Erekat will meet up with his Israeli counterpart Yitzhak Molcho for the fourth round of talks in Amman, Jordan on January 25th. The announcement came barely a day after Palestinians protested against the farcical negotiations in front of the PA compound of al-Muqata’a in Ramallah.

Nevertheless, the group Palestinians With Dignity have been quick to issue another statement out, calling for another protest this Saturday the 21st. It is clear that these protests are not reactionary, and will continue until all negotiations between the occupied and the occupier cease once and for all. Last week saw the arrest of a young man who participated in the protest by the PA security forces. He was attacked and interrogated before being released.

In a true and classical behavior that characterizes Arab repressive governments who are merely puppets of western interests, will violence against protesters by the PA escalate?

Below is the statement [emphasis not mine], with a link to a petition against negotiations at the bottom:

Last Saturday 14th of January, we stood in silence in front of the Presidential Compound (Muqata’a) in Ramallah demanding the immediate stop of the bilateral negotiations between Saeb Erekat and Yitzhak Molcho in Amman. The bitter cold did not stop us from protesting against the return to these fruitless talks. The Palestinian Liberation Organization (PLO) has retreated from its earlier position that they will not return to negotiations, until settlement expansion is halted and all the political prisoners were released; this represents the bare minimum demands of the Palestinian people.

The PLO’s reneging on their promise to the Palestinian people and their return to negotiations implies that the leadership accepts the continued theft and seizure of Palestinian lands, legitimizes the ever-going attacks of the settlers, and furthermore undermines the Palestinian people in whole.

As Palestinians youth, we do not see any benefits from these futile negotiations. We have grown weary of representatives that don’t represent us, a national consensus that does not include us, and an implied future pseudo-state that does not guarantee our rights; specifically the rights of the majority of Palestinians who are refugees and live in exile.

It appears that our message last Saturday fell on deaf ears. The Palestinian leadership is still moving forward with negotiations, despite the Israeli occupation’s expansion of illegal colonies in the West Bank, the continued siege on Gaza, and Israel’s continued practice of the crime of Apartheid against Palestinians.

Nevertheless, we have not been deterred from acting. We demand the Palestinian leadership bears its responsibility in defying all sources of foreign pressure to return to negotiations. Instead of pursuing negotiations at this moment in time, we are in need of a resistance-based strategy. A strategy that begins with the unification of Palestinians and the political, economic, cultural and academic boycott of the apartheid state of Israel. We unequivocally demand that our leadership invests in its people, because when unified, together we can alter the balance of power to our favor.

On Saturday, January 21st at 1 PM we will again protest at the doorsteps of the Presidential Compound (Muqata’a). Join us on Saturday, and let us together stand tall with dignity and full of pride until our demands are met.

Show your support by signing the following petition against negotiations:
http://www.aredaonline.com/petition_against_negotiations

Palestinians for Dignity

Palestinian tweeps on the ground will be using the hashtag #No2negotiations for live updates.

Open Letter from Taiseer Khatib: Raise Your Voice Against Apartheid

2012-01-16T22:25:00.004+02:00

I’m bringing here a letter written and distributed by Taiseer Khatib, from Akka (Acre).Taiseer, his wife Lana and two children, Yusra (3) and Adnan (4), are one of the thousands families that will have to live apart, after the approval of Israel high court’s approval to the racist Citizenship Law. They face now a real and ‘legalized’ threat of deportation of Lana back to Jenin.

Dear friends,

Those who are here and those who are spread all over the world, those in academic institutions, political parties, theatres, human rights organisations, students, workers, and everyone of You, please consider this email addressed to you personally.

Some of you might be aware of the latest racist Israeli supreme court decision from yesterday, that threatens to separate tens of thousands of Palestinian family members apart. This decision in addition to 25 laws and laws proposals are designed to segregate and discriminate against the Palestinian minority inside Israel. These racist laws have one goal: to bring to a situation where this state, should be only for a Pure race: Jewish! The deportation can start with Palestinian spouses today who are married to Palestinians inside Israel, but tomorrow it will be the overwhelming majority of Palestinians in Israel, if not all !

Yes, i feel very pessimistic! Yes i feel that a deportation of my wife and its separation from me and from my children is real ! It is a black day in my life and the life of tens of thousands of people in my situation! Deportation had not only become real but legalized!

I am writing to ask you to act in the name of humanity and human rights, which the Israeli supreme court had legalized a war against them, as it declared the war against us, we the “other”, it gave the green light for all security services to act in the name of LAW! The supreme court was the last shelter for defending human rights in Israel, and now it had shut its doors to Rights, and kept the Humans (Palestinians) out without any protection.

Below you will find some articles explaining the current racist law and also some articles or interviews with me and my family, there is also the TV interview (in Hebrew). Please contribute your part in fighting Israeli racism and spread the word, articles, and all what you find in regard of this law to ALL your friends in your Email, social networks, facebeook, twiter, and others, in order to raise the awareness mainly in Europe and in US to what is going on inside the so called “Democratic” state of Israel. Please do not let it stop by your email, spread and make the voice loud against this racist and discriminative actions!

To all of you who sent me emails, called, and express their solidarity with our case, i would like to say thank you, (especially my Israeli friends who denounced the law and told me, that the law doesn’t speak in their name, and that they feel ashamed of such a decision, for expressing solidarity with yourselves in the first level, and with me and my family on the second level, Racism against the Palestinians inside Israel, will not stop by them, it will continue further to the Jewish Israeli society, as it is becoming clear in the last period.

I will end my email with a citation from the great intellectual Said:

Remember the solidarity shown to Palestine here and everywhere… and remember also that there is a cause to which many people have committed themselves, difficulties and terrible obstacles notwithstanding. Why? Because it is a just cause, a notable ideal, a moral quest for equality and human rights.”

Edward Said

I hope this just cause can get to as much as people as you can, as it is one of the last ways of fighting fascist decisions, raise your voice against the Apartheid!

Yours

Taiseer

http://www.mako.co.il/news-channel2/Channel-2-Newscast/Article-71da7677c33d431017.htm

http://www.adalah.org/eng/

http://www.maannews.net/arb/ViewDetails.aspx?ID=451877

http://worldnews.msnbc.msn.com/_news/2012/01/12/10142284-israeli-high-court-keeps-israeli-palestinian-spouses-apart

http://www.haaretz.com/print-edition/opinion/supreme-court-thrusts-israel-down-the-slope-of-apartheid-1.407056

http://www.aljazeera.net/NR/exeres/DBCE686F-A556-42C4-9E2C-3696981F07AA.htm?GoogleStatID=21

http://www.haaretz.co.il/news/law/1.1615220

http://www.mideastyouth.com/2012/01/13/israeli-court-ruling-heightens-fears-for-palestinian-spouses-of-arab-citizens/

http://www.arabhra.org/hraadmin/ProjectSpecific/NewsletterEmailContent.aspx?articles=1065&SelectedLanguage=1

http://www.bbc.co.uk/arabic/middleeast/2012/01/120112_israel_palestine_citizenship.shtml
http://arabs48.com/?mod=articles&ID=88434

h/t to @AbirKopty

Palestinians for Dignity: Saeb Erekat, Go Home

2012-01-15T19:44:00.008+02:00

As posted on Electronic Intifada

More pictures can be found here

Under the pouring rain, Palestinians for the first time took part in a protest right in front of the Palestinian Authority compound Al-Muqata’a, which has become to symbolize, as one of the more lavish foreign funded state-building projects, an illusion of authority under the Israeli occupation. In her article describing the PA’s spatial organization of state structures, Linda Tabar quotes an official who describes the Muqata’a as an image “of grandeur that creates the impression we have a state.”

The protest, organized by a group of young Palestinians who called themselves Palestinians for Dignity, was against the farcical “negotiations about negotiations” currently taking place in Amman, Jordan between the PA represented by unelected chief negotiator Sa’eb Erekat (who incidentally, resigned his post after it was revealed that the Palestine Papers were leaked from his office in 2011) and the Israeli delegation, headed by Yitzhak Molcho. A third meeting is expected to run today between the two sides, after the first two were conducted last week on January 3rd and January 10th respectively.

From the statement released by the youth, the ongoing negotiations have once again commenced without any pre-conditions:

Counting on the same fruitless and failing process of the past two decades, the negotiations contradict past PLO statements that have explicitly rejected negotiations until settlement expansion is frozen, borders are clearly referenced and defined, and the fulfillment of the release of all political prisoners.

It has become increasingly obvious that the PA and its leadership have stopped pretending to sugarcoat their salient acts with their occupier, which does not reflect the interests of the Palestinians. In fact, twenty years of failed negotiations have only made the life of the average Palestinian more miserable as a result of the enhanced state of occupation they live in, as the rapid land grabs and construction of settlements are implemented with the full knowledge and even blessing of the negotiating team of the PA.

The statement continues,

Palestinian youth are fed up with illegitimate representation, a national consensus that does not unite them, and of a future state that does not guarantee the rights of the majority of the Palestinian people, in specific, Palestinian refugees in exile. We demand a strategy that is supported by political, economic, academic and cultural boycott of the Zionist entity, the strengthening of the steadfastness of the people, and preparation for direct elections to the Palestinian National Council (PNC) representative of Palestinians across the world.

The protest didn’t say silent for long. In my opinion, Palestinian silent protests are an oxymoron. Pretty soon, abetted by the expressive posters, vigorous chants were shouted by those in attendance who numbered around one hundred. Plainclothes police once again “infiltrated” the protest, but their faces were familiar to many who were involved in the now obsolete March 15th youth movement.

Chants called for Saeb Erekat to go home, and asserted that the right of return was not for sale. One variation was that the blood of the martyrs was not going to be sold out. Negotiations and normalization were used interchangeably in the chants as in this context they were really synonymous after all. One popular chant was “Right of Return, Freedom, National Dignity/ عودة, حرية, كرامة وطنية”

The plainclothes police moved to the other side of the street, the side of the Muqata’a. They watched us from inside their cars and a couple even took pictures, which forcibly reminded me of the Israeli army during the weekly protests in the village of Nabi Saleh who carry out the same act. After an hour and a half, the protest was over, but not before the youth shouted that if the message today wasn’t heard by the PA leadership, then there will be more protests to follow.

Shortly afterwards, one young man from Tulkarem who participated in the protest (and who prefers to remain anonymous) was attacked and arrested by the PA security forces. His arrest lasted for two hours, including an hour of interrogation about the names of the people who were chanting against the PA.

There is no longer a psychological barrier of fear against the Palestinian Authority and its security forces. Their interests are to consolidate their elitist status while the majority of the Palestinians continue to suffer from a two-tiered tyranny: The Israeli occupation and its bestial policies, and the suppression and stifling rule of the main Palestinian parties, Fateh in the shape of the PA in the West Bank and Hamas in the Gaza Strip. We will not stand by anymore on the sidelines, as outdated so-called representatives negotiate our rights away with the same side that is continuously oppressing us. It is simply ludicrous, shameful, and outright embarrassing that these negotiations still occupy a space in the Palestinian political spectrum. Only free men and women negotiate, and for all their money, expensive cars and villas, and security coordinated travel permits, the Palestinian leadership is still at the end of the day occupied by Israel and its whims.

UPDATE: The incident with the arrested young man, Said al-Edreesy, is now public

Nabi Saleh's Balloon Release for Gaza

2012-01-03T19:30:00.005+02:00

Photo by Oren Ziv/ActiveStills.org

My friend Amra Amra informed me that the Chicago Movement for Palestinian Rights were planning on commemorating the third year since the massacre on Gaza, which Israel dubbed as Operation Cast Lead, by releasing balloons with the name of each child killed attached- a total of 344. One of the coordinators asked if we could possibly emulate the same action in Palestine.

After some initial planning, we decided to take the balloons to the village of Nabi Saleh, as opposed to Qalandiya checkpoint, which separates the rest of the West Bank from Jerusalem. It was easier to coordinate with the villagers and a lot less hassle, especially on such short notice.

Friday morning came. Along with a handful of other friends/activists, we got the balloons and managed to stuff them all in the back of a ford (mini-bus). As we got closer to Nabi Saleh, I was sick with worry about what the soldiers manning the yellow gate at the entrance to the village would do once they saw the balloons. I was scared they would open the back door and let the balloons fly away. I reached behind me and gripped the strings tightly. From experience, I know their maliciousness knows no mercy. We decided on a story: We were going to Beit Rima (the village just after Nabi Saleh) for a kid's birthday party. I nicknamed it, Operation Susu's Birthday.

It was such a ridiculous situation. Ridiculous that we should be holding our breath just because of some balloons, ridiculous that these young soldiers had the power to do anything to us, ridiculous in that we were sitting uncomfortably with the balloons batting our faces, necks and shoulders, threatening to engulf us. This is occupation, when the gravity and tension weigh up against the absurdities and unnecessities, creating a split personality-one full of apprehension and anger, the other just seconds away from a good dose of hysterical hyena laughing.

Thankfully, nothing happened. They demanded to see the ID of the driver and the person sitting in the passenger seat. They opened the door and peered at each and every one of us. One soldier said, "Balloon?" but we ignored him. Then we passed. We all breathed audibly. We jumped out of the ford and walked through the village with the balloons. Kids outside in the cold morning were exclaiming, "I want a balloon!" We told them to come find us just before the protest started, still a few hours away. We went to one of the welcoming houses, and downstairs inside a room we got busy with work. We cut the papers with the names of the children of Gaza killed into strips, hole-punched them, and tied them to each balloon string. There were a lot of pictures taken, kids were careful not to be overly exuberant, and we had a great time. The kids asked what the strips of paper were, and we told them about the commemoration of the Gaza massacre.

One medic, a regular in Nabi Saleh who's well-known by the villagers, took a stab at black humor. "So when you all get killed," he told the children in the room, "We'll remember your names by flying some balloons."
"Don't joke about this kind of stuff," I snapped. The kids however wanted to know more.
"Is Mustafa's name tied to one of the balloons?" 7 year old Rand asked, referring to Mustafa Tamimi, the young man killed after an Israeli soldier fired a tear gas canister directly at his face a few weeks ago.
"Mustafa was 28 years old," the medic replied. "Did he look like a kid to you?"

We talked about what was the best way to include the balloons in the protest. Should we have the kids go down the road in front of the soldiers before the demonstration began? The soldiers wouldn't fire tear gas at them, right? Of course they would. We've all witnessed it more than once. The army fires tear gas at children singing and chanting. The parents shook their heads. It's safer if the kids were with the protest crowd; that way at least there will be people to protect and shield them once the Israeli occupation forces intensified their sadistic suppression of the villagers' basic rights.

We decided to visit another favorite house of ours in the village. As we were making our way down the road we watched powerless, meters away, as two Israeli jeeps came hurtling up the road, before it kidnapped two international activists who were taking pictures of the village and of where Mustafa had fell.

Protest time: Amra and I got the balloons, and I gave one to a kid so he could entice the other ones to come our way. They came running. They were so enthusiastic. It was perfect timing, as the demo passed by and swept them along. We went down the street chanting. We turned the bend and continued to where the soldiers with their jeeps and skunk truck were waiting for us. The kids were interspersed in the crowd, some in the front, most in the middle. We waited for the sky to rain tear gas. A few canisters were fired (a few being abnormal; usually dozens are fired from the onset). Instead, the skunk truck rumbled forward, its nozzle spraying that nasty stuff. We all ran back, and I noticed all the kids had scampered, using their common sense. Their ages were between 14 to 5 years old.

We didn't get to release the balloons all at the same time like planned, but it didn't matter. I realized how silly this part of the idea was. The soldiers don't differentiate between child, man, or woman. Getting the children together in a group to release the balloons at the same time in front of the soldiers was indeed a powerful and symbolic image, yet owing to the aggressive reality on the ground, it was not a feasible idea. It was impossible to replicate an identical event amidst the IOF, dodging tear gas canisters fired at our bodies, and running away from the skunk water. Still, the most important thing was that we got our message across, and that the kids had a blast.

That's about how far the balloons went..the demo was ugly with a lot of tear gas, multiple arrests, skunk water sprayed numerously, and a couple of violent house raids which terrified the children inside. Sometimes I'd look up, chest constricting, and see the clouds of tear gas hanging over our heads, other times it would be clumps of balloons floating away. It made me think of ten year old Ahmad Mousa from Nilin, shot and murdered by Israel in 2008. It made me think of 5 year old Jana singing Bombing Gas to the tune of Jingle Bells.

We don't teach our children to hate.

That's all.

Happy New Year

2012-01-01T21:26:00.005+02:00

I don't know what I can write about the year 2011 that hasn't been written about here on the blog. My articles started to get published, I graduated, I found work, I met the most amazing, passionate young people who are more than friends and which our shared experiences created an unbreakable special bond, I fell in love with a whole village and its inhabitants, I witnessed the murder of a young man by the Israeli occupation, I carried home with me the disgusting skunk smell, I've laughed and cried with strangers, and so on.

A new year doesn't mean much to me. It's just another day in the calendar, always on its cyclic move. I haven't been able to write beautiful posts about how this year personally affected me like how my dear friends have in this one or that. I can however say with full confidence, this is just the beginning. It's only the start. Our voices have reached out to so many. And we are such few in number. There is reason to be optimistic, reason to be hopeful, reason to believe my generation WILL make a change.

May 2012 usher in a stronger permanent wave of popular resistance, an actual representative Palestinian government, the irrelevance of Hamas and Fateh, more BDS successes, the elimination of normalization events, the release of all Palestinian prisoners, justice to Mustafa Tamimi's family and the thousands before him, the right of return for the millions of Palestinian refugees, and accountability that will bring Israel down to its knees. Happy New Year!

Memories of the First Intifada

2011-12-19T22:18:00.002+02:00

I interviewed my strong wonderful mother in response to #Intifada1

"We lived in a state of normalization. We had settlers coming to buy from Palestinian grocery stores. It was like we accepted the occupation. The occupation would always take and take and take, but there wasn't a strong enough reaction from the Palestinians. That is, until the intifada happened."

This is how Mama starts off reminiscing about the first intifada, which exploded on December 9th twenty-four years ago. Her eyes are bright, and her voice is excitedly animated as she recalls random memories of the first three years of the intifada, which she witnessed from living in the Khan Younis refugee camp.

My mother got married and moved from Ramallah to the Gaza strip where my dad's family were. In refugee camps, the action was always brewing due to a number of elements. People in refugee camps generally suffer more because of the memories of dispossession coupled with their current cramped and squalid living conditions weigh heavily on their shoulders. The refugees and their descendants live with the knowledge of having a bleak future, so even though resisting Israel by staging demonstrations, rock throwing, and spraying graffiti on buildings elicited a strong and disproportionate reaction from the Israeli Occupation Forces (Yitzhak Rabin's Bone Breaking policy comes to mind), the general attitude among these Palestinians was, "We already have it bad, how worse could it get?"

Palestinians living in the cities had relatively more stable lives, so there was a lot more to lose. As Mama put it, "في المدن كان الخوف اكثر ولكن التضحية اقل"

Mama kept emphasizing over and over how the intifada was a true popular uprising in every sense of the word. "It united people. Every house shared the same experience; every family had a martyr, a prisoner, an injured person. The best thing about the Intifada was that it broke the fear barrier and ended the barefaced normalization."

"Everyone would participate," she continued. "Everyone! Men, women, children were all seen on the streets demonstrating. There was a harmonious unification of all the political factions. Statements would be released in the name of all factions, and they would all be in agreement about the time of strikes and protests."

She remembers how at first, the Israeli soldiers would walk around in groups of three, four, or five. Once a soldier walked astray from his group and found himself inside a chicken coop. He was petrified, and literally pissed himself from fear. From that day on, there were now twelve soldiers in one group.

Arrests were widepsread and common. One uncle got arrested once, my youngest uncle twice, and my dad three times. One of those arrests came three days after my brother was born. I asked Mama how badly that affected her, in her delicate position.

She looked at me increduously. "I had just given birth, I was still in pain, what was I supposed to do? I told your dad 'God be with you' and that was that."

I pressed her to divulge some personal experiences. She was silent for a moment, before suddenly bursting out laughing.

"One time a group of soldiers barged into your grandparents' house and began asking each of your uncles what they did for a living. When they got to your father he replied, 'I sell chickens at the souk.' I wanted to laugh so badly. They believed him and thankfully left without destroying anything. They were known for going inside the kitchen and spilling the olive oil on the floor, mixing sugar with salt, ripping open the bags of flour...your grandmother and I were each wearing a dayir [a full black skirt with deep pockets] to hide all our gold in."

"We were under curfew so many times. The soldiers would come rumbling in their tanks, not jeeps, and the whole house would shake like a leaf. They would announce the curfew in the early hours of the morning, always coupled with the foulest language ever. You son of a... and Your mother's..."

I always find it a bit rich for my parents to stir up a World War III at home every time I announce my decision to go to the village of Nabi Saleh the next day for their weekly protests. They weren't some squares quaking from fear during the intifada. When Mama was 8 months pregnant with my older brother, she walked into the Nasser Hospital in the hopes of glimpsing those who were martyred or injured on that day. Doctors thought she was there to give birth but she shook her head and said, "No, no. I just want to have a look."

I asked her if she could envisage another true popular uprising, another intifada. It doesn't make sense to me, how twenty four years later we are still more occupied than ever before and living under the most atrocious conditions. Of course, Salam Fayyad's economic normalization under the guise of "state-building institutions" is partly to blame, along with the Palestinian Authority's collaborative and corrupt nature and Hamas' self-centered sanctimonious interests. Before launching into yet another diatribe about the dangerous failure of this so-called Palestinian leadership, I'll end with Mama's answer.

"Listen, after the on-going Arab revolutions, anything is possible. I for one had no hope in Egyptians revolting on a mass scale. But they did. Then I shared in the opinion that the Syrians were too depoliticized and wouldn't revolt, but they did. We had a huge chance of another intifada during the Gaza massacre in 08/09. But the PA brutally suppressed us. It just goes to show you that everyone cares only about the seat they hold. But a day will come, soon enough."

To Mustafa's Mother

2011-12-15T22:29:00.002+02:00

Below is a letter written by one of the organizers of the Nabi Saleh popular protests, Bassem Tamimi. Bassem has been behind Israeli bars for the past nine months on ridiculous charges, and wrote this letter to the mother of Mustafa Tamimi, the martyr who was shot from a very close distance by a tear gas canister in his face a week ago.

In the name of God the Merciful the Compassionate.
O beautiful mothers who have waited for their sons to return,
My beautiful sisters, which gave to the country what is most dear to the heart,
O most beautiful women dressed in mourning cloth,
For what do you want to sing and cry, what do you want of respect, loyalty, and order,
For when he gave the most precious, when the tender met the land’s call,
With tournament and sacrifice,
His soul went up to the heavens in splendor.
For this is the way of the free among the strain of the martyrs,
Of those who proceeded on the altar of freedom and redemption for Palestine.
For our belle Palestine the spirit pays a tribute and drenches the land with blood.
We comfort you and mourn you because you left like folding clouds in the sky,
So be our symbol who we seek its light.
Perhaps, my dearest sister, perhaps you are grasped in the perturbing sadness and in the numbness wounds,
Our blood defiled above the ground is a rose shining from behind the blockade,
A rose that lights the way for us to renew our path.
Mustafa’s blood writes; on the ground pregnant with the beloved; the opening anthem,
It is for Palestine that martyr fell after martyr, and when his hand captured the stone of the intifada (uprising) and victory,
The spirit of Umm Nizar ululated and Bakr sang.
We wont write about him or enrich him. As the doors of the heart leading to him and the reluctance of his songs with their hopes and aspirations announces his presence in us, and seek our presence in him.
On the walls we see his leaps,
On the ground we trace his footsteps,
In the fields we hear his whispering cry followed by a blessed stone that calls upon him,
We will remember him and will not forget him as he enriches us and we don’t enrich him.
God will bring him closer and purify him and grant him long life.
On our land pigmented with blood, in the village of redemption, the town of martyrs, the village of Nabi Saleh, the intifada of loyalty (uprising) opens the death laden.
Barbarians scatter snipers, invaders of death on the place and on the living,
To steal life and spread grief.
Earth groaned, when the murderers instilled the gas canister in Mustafa’s fragile flesh.
Leading his soul to the sky, to befriend the companions and prophets.
The seventh sky lights up and our mother, earth opens her heart to embrace his pure body to scent its ground with his blood.
On this day resistance is announced on the slopes, on the hills singing songs of revolutionaries for the land,
The voice announcing “we die for our people to live, Long live Palestine!”.
Do not shed tears Umm Mustafa, his soul embraces us to the spectra of freedom,
Through his eyes we will look on the horizon to our victory, the victory of blood over the sword. Dearest sister, it’s not easy or easy to self stand in such a situation, but with patience and faith you will come out from the circle of grief to reverence and honor that befit the presence of a martyr. So sleep in the skies Mustafa, and send Umm Nizar my greeting and tell her verily here we stay, like our olives trees resisting until we continue to be. Until we write the statement of victory, of a long desired life – humanitarian up to all the meanings of living of freedom, democracy, justice, human dignity and peace.
‘Peace be upon you the day you were born, the day you departed and the day you will be alive again’.
Greetings of peace to your mother and your father.
With warmth in my heart I dedicate this to you and to them.
Bassem Tamimi
Ofer prison.

إلى آم المصطفى
بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم
يا أجمل الأمهات التي انتظرت ابنها وعاد يا أجمل الأخوات التي أعطت للوطن مهجة الفؤاد يا أجمل النساء التي ما نزوت في ثياب الحداد لكي ما تشائين من الغناء ومن البكاء لكي ما تشائين من الاحترام والوفاء ولكي ما تشائين من المديح ومن الثناء فحين أعطى أجزل العطاء لبى للأرض النداء بالبطولة والفداء فصعدت روحه إلى العلياء في بهاء فهذا نهج الأحرار من سلالة الشهداء من سبقوه ع…لى مذبح الحرية والفداء لا اجل فلسطيننا الحسناء تدفع الروح مهرا وتسقي الأرض بالدماء فلنا فيك العزاء لأنك رحلت كالغيم
الملفع في السماء فكن شراعنا الذي نلتمس به الضياء
.
لعلك يا أخت الروح في يقضة الحزن وغفوة الجراح ودمنا المستباح فوق الأرض وردة تلمع من خلف الحصار يضئ لنا الطريق لنجدد المسار فدم المصطفى يكتب على الأرض الحبلى بالأحباب الإحياء سفرا يقرأ فيه افتتاح النشيد فلأجل فلسطين سقط من الشهيد تلو الشهيد وحين قبضت كفه على حجرا الانتفاضة والنصر زغردت له روح ام نزار وغنى بكر لن نكتب عنه أو نرثيه فأبواب القلب تفضى إليه وتردد أغانيه وتحمل أماله وأمانيه تعلن حضوره فينا وتبحث عن حضورنا فيه فنرى على السور قفزته وعلى للأرض خطوته ونسمع في المدى صرخته حين يتبعه حجرا مباركا ينشده ويناديه سنذكره ولن ننساه فهو الذي يرثينا ولا نرثيه فالله يقربه
ويصطفيه وامتداد الحياة يجزيه
.
على راضنا المخضبة بدمنا في قرية الفداء بلدة الشهداء النبي صالح انتفاضة الوفاء تفتح كوة من حُسن الموت المحمل برابرة العصر
ليوزع قناصة الغزاة الموت على المكان والإنسان ليهب الحياة وترسيخ المعاناة تراب يئن يخضبه دم مصطفى حين يغرس ألقتله قنبلة الغاز في لحمه الطري فتصعد روحه إلى العلياء رفيق الصديقين والأنبياء يضئ سمائنا السابعة وتفتح أمنا الأرض قلبها لا احتضان طهر جسده لتعطر التراب من مسك دمه وفي يومه صهلت جيادنا المسرجة بالمقاومة على الروابي والسفوح تغني للأرض أغاني الثوار وتعلن بصوت دمه نموت ليعيش شعبنا وتحيا فلسطين
لا تبكيه يا أم مصطفى فروحه تأخدنا لنعانق أطياف حريتنا الحائرة ونطل من فضاء عينيه على أفق انتصارنا انتصار الدم على السيف فيا أخت الروح ليس الأمر سهلا ولا هينا على النفس الوقوف في مثل هذا الموقف ولكن بالصبر والإيمان نخرج من دائرة الحزن والفجيعة إلى مستوى الإجلال والإكرام الذي يليق بحضرة الدم والشهداء فنم في عليائك قرير العين يا حمامة سلامنا وأقرئ آم نزار مني السلام واخبرها إنا باقون هنا كأشجار زيتوننا نقاوم حتى نستمر في إن نكون ولنكتب في الأحمر القاني بيان انتصارنا للحياة المشتهاة التي نستحقها من بابها الإنساني صعودا إلى كل المعاني الحية من الحرية
والديمقراطية والعدالة والكرامة الإنسانية والسلام .
سلام عليك يوم ولدت ويوم رحلت ويوم تبعث حيا والسلام.
وسلام على أمك وأبيك ودفئ قلبي اهديهم وأهديك
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باسم التميمي
سجن عوفر

Solidarity with Razan Ghazzawi

2011-12-14T19:12:00.001+02:00

This is a statement by Palestinian bloggers and activists supporting all political prisoners of the Syrian Revolution, it reads:

We, a group of Palestinian bloggers and activists raise our voices loud and clear in solidarity with all the prisoners of the Great Syrian Revolution. We stand with all the prisoners, activists, artists, bloggers and others, all who are shouting in the streets or on various platforms demanding freedom and justice, while decrying the huge amount on injustice and oppression practiced by the Syrian regime for more than four decades.

We issue this statement in solidarity with all those Syrian activists, and with the blogger Razan Ghazzawi who was arrested on December 4th, on the Jordanian-Syrian crossing border. Razan was adamant in her support for the Palestinian cause. She was the first to stand in solidarity with the Palestinian bloggers who were not granted a visa to enter Tunisia in order to participate in the Arab Bloggers Conference. Razan posted a blog in 2008 during the massacre on Gaza titled, “The Idea of Solidarity with Gaza.” She wrote, “I understand when Cubans, Brazilians, and Pakistanies stand in solidarity with Gaza. But what I do not understand is when Syrians, Lebanese, Jordanians, and also Palestinians in exile stand in solidarity. What is the meaning of solidarity in this context?”

Not only do we stand in solidarity with Razan and the other prisoners, but we also affirm that our destiny is one, our concerns are one, and our struggle is one. Palestine can never be free while the Arab people live under repressive and reactionary regimes. The road to a free Palestine comes with a free Syria, in which Syrians live in dignity. Freedom to all of the prisoners in the Syrian regime’s cells. Long live the Syrian Revolution, free from dictatorship, sectarianism, and foreign intervention.

Signatories:

Abir Kopty
Abrar Agil
Ahmed Fahoum
Ahmed Nimer
Alaa Abu Diab
Ali Abunimah
Ali AlMasri
Ali Bari
Amal Murtaja
Amani Ighbaria
Amra Amra
Anas Hamra
Asmaa AlGhoul
Bashar Lubbad
Budour Hasan
Dalia Ghorab
Dalia Othman
Deema AlSaafin
Diana Alzeer
Doa Ali
Fidaa Abu Assi
Hala AlSafadi
Hamza Elbuhaisi
Hanaa Mahameed
Huwaida Arraf
Ebaa Rezeq
Irene Nasser
Jalal AbuKhater
Khaled AlShihabi
Linah AlSaafin
Maath Musleh
Maha Rezeq
Maisaa Azayzeh
Majd Kayyal
Mariam Al-Barghouti
Meera AlBaba
Mira Nabulsi
Mohamed Jaradat
Nader Al-Khuzundar
Nadine Darwish
Nalan Al Sarraj
Nihal ElAlami
Nisreen Mazzawi
Ola Anan
Osama Ghorab
Osama Shomar
Rasha Hilwi
Rowan Abu-Shahla
Saed Karzoun
Saleh Dawabsheh
Thameena Husary
Yusra Jamous

Israeli Soldiers' Savagery at Mustafa Tamimi's Funeral

2011-12-13T00:05:00.006+02:00

As posted on Electronic Intifada

Video:

For an introduction, I recommend reading the following links: Mourning Mustafa Tamimi as Israeli Soldiers Escalate Violence, and Funeral of Murdered Mustafa Tamimi Ends in More IOF Violence and Savagery.

Every time I look at the picture below, I want to laugh. Call it hysteria, call it exhaustion, call it being subjected to so many cruel emotions over the past few days after witnessing the murder of a true freedom fighter.

The pictures shows Tasneem H, @Tweet_Palestine, @_Watan, and myself among others in a human pile on the ground with Israeli soldiers beating us as we tried to prevent them from arresting us and the other activists we were protecting with our bodies. The following is our testimonies, collected and edited by me.

Me:

The soldiers were in their place, watching us advance. They didn’t fire tear gas; their presence itself was enough provocation. We stood in front of them, and began shouting at each of the soldiers, going from face to face with Mustafa Tamimi’s poster held up by our hands.

Our grief spilled into rage.

“Which one of you killed Mustafa?”

“Which one of you did it?”

“Which one of you has the courage to look in his sister’s eyes, the one you prevented from seeing him?”

“WHICH ONE OF YOU MURDERED HIM?”

@_Watan:

The question was asked a million times that day, and was answered by tons of tear gas, sound bombs, and physical violence. They were afraid of the question, terrified to look at the eyes of the man they killed, and we were not going to be silent any more.

Me:

Chants of “Murderers! Murderers! Murderers!” and then “Animals! Animals! Animals!” The soldiers backed away from us a few steps, perturbed. We wouldn’t let them go that easily. We followed them.

Tasneem H:

We were simply using our words…Our words and our voices of truth to question the Israeli soldiers of the murder of Mustafa Tamimi. I took out a poster with a photo of Mustafa and asked the soldier to look at the man they were responsible for murdering. I wondered to myself if their conscience would be moved at all by this. Did they still have a conscience?

Me:

I had the picture of Mustafa and was demanding them to look at it, to look at Mustafa’s eyes, the man they killed so heartlessly. One of the soldiers grabbed the picture from me and balled it in his fist. I went berserk.

“Give it back!” I shrieked. “Give it back, you animal! You’re not human give it back!” I grabbed at his hand and he shoved me vehemently. I tried again and he threw the torn picture on the ground.

@Tweet_Palestine:

All of a sudden one of them jumped on Jonathan [Pollack] who was standing next to us. They tried to arrest him and we all jumped on him trying to keep the soldiers from taking him. The soldiers kept hitting us everywhere. Then one of them tried to choke Jonathan until he fainted and was carried away.

@_watan:

They were hitting him, and choking him. The rest of the girls and I ran toward them, trying to save him from their murderous hands. His face was starting to get blue and then he passed out, and still the soldier wouldn’t let go of him. Luckily we were able to get him out just in time to save him from being killed too.

Me:

We were over the metal rink, on the road now. The spring was only across the road. The soldiers began shoving and pushing us, as we continued to demand justice for Mustafa’s murder. Sound bombs were thrown right next to us. Then we saw one international activist lying face down on the ground, his hands tied behind him. We tried to stop the soldiers from taking him with our bodies. They shoved us roughly. We screamed back. I felt a rifle butt hit me on the forehead. The commander came over and said we had five minutes to clear off. I told him we wouldn’t and for them to clear off. He pointed at me and ordered for my arrest. I felt myself being dragged by two soldiers and my biggest fear was that if my parents found out I could kiss this world goodbye. Then I felt someone grab my legs, someone else around my waist, and we all collapsed to the ground. The girls, my fellow activists, my sisters were clinging to me as hard as they could, preventing the soldiers from taking me.

@_Watan:

I turned over to see my friend Linah in the hands of two soldiers. They were arresting her, and the only thing I could remember next was holding her in my arms, and I was not alone…the girls gathered making a human pile, each holding the other so strongly to save her from being arrested.

Me:

More soldiers came and began to drag the other girls away. There was a flurry of movement and another international activist was pinned to the ground by the soldiers. We grabbed him as he became buried in our human pile. He clung to my leg. One of my arms was around my friend’s back, the other clutching another friend’s shoulder. My waist and legs were gripped by them tightly. The soldiers hit my friend on her head. One repeatedly slammed his knee in the back of the international activist we were shielding.

@_Watan:

The soldiers pushed us and we fell on the ground. We were literally on top of each other, yet we were not willing to let go. We were hit and kicked everywhere and one of them hit me on the head with the back of his gun.

@Tweet_Palestine:

We lay on the ground holding him while the soldiers hit us in every direction. I remember Linah next to me screaming the same words over and over again “You will not take any of us.” Another girl was screaming “This is for Mustafa, stay strong!” I had lost my voice by then and couldn’t scream but I moaned and cried as one soldier was trying to break my fingers away from one of the Israeli activists buried within us. Another soldier pulled me from my kuffiyeh and choked me with it, and then I let go of the activist because the pain was just too strong. I watched the soldiers pulling him away from me, dragging him on the street while one soldier put his leg above his head.

@_Watan:

They tried to choke her with her own kuffiyeh.

@Tweet_Palestine:

In a split second another soldier screamed “Take this girl!” and someone pulled my legs and I was dragged away from the girls. I knew that it meant it was over: they were going to arrest me. I was on the ground when I heard the girls screaming out my name and I then knew I was safe, I knew they would not let the soldiers take me. One soldier had his leg on me crushing me to the ground and the girls jumped on the soldiers and tried to free me.

Tasneem H:

Our human barrier made things difficult for the Israelis. We were in their way. They began violently pulling, kicking and punching the girls and I as well as the protesters they tried to arrest. I heard cries of anguish as the Israelis tried to wrench the human barrier. And in between these cries of anguish, you could still hear the words of truth continuing to be spoken by each and every single one of us.

Me:

>We were screaming and kept holding on to each other, our bodies pretzeled against each other. The soldiers were beating us as we lay there, and my anger was spent. I whispered, “You have no humanity” followed by repeating, “You’re not taking any one” over and over again.

“You are not gonna take any one of us.” Her voice broke my heart yet also made it stronger. We were sad, angry, hurt, tired, and beaten up. But we were also a pile of determination and each time they hit us we became stronger. I remember the face of the international activist we were shielding. He was looking at us as if we were the safest place on earth. It was us vs. Mustafa’s killers, Truth vs. Violence.

Me:

I looked up and realized more people from our side had arrived. They tried to talk to the soldiers. We finally but very carefully and gingerly picked ourselves off the ground as the people formed a human wall around us and we jumped over the metal rink. Another international activist was getting arrested. We jumped back and tried to grab him but we were pushed back with even more brutal force. The commander kept telling us to go. He added the word “please”. My hands were bruised, my knuckles were blue and bleeding, my body was aching. I was shaking all over. Mustafa’s picture was still in my hand. We turned back to make the long trek up the hill, and they fired tear gas aimed at our bodies to hinder us.

@Tweet_Palestine:

I ran as fast as I could then fell to the ground.

Me:

@Tweet_Palestine fainted. The men carried her and went down to the ambulance on the road.

@_Watan:

We climbed back up the hill, carrying the unanswered question and more determined than ever to continue and bring Justice to Mustafa.

@Tweet_Palestine:

I saw friendly faces around me. I realized I had fainted in the ambulance. I was terrified; what if they took any of the other girls? I should stand on my feet and go back but somehow my brain was no longer in control of my body. I was taken to one of the warm houses in Nabi Saleh, the same house I was taken to when I was attacked the last time. I just wanted to know if the girls were safe and I kept asking “Where is Linah where is @_Watan? Did they take them what happened where are they?” and then they came in from the front door and we hugged each other and started crying uncontrollably.

Tasneem H:

I still can’t comprehend why arrests were made and violence was used by the Israelis. Were our words of truth threatening to them? Were our words of truth threatening their security? Did our words of truth penetrate so deep into their conscience that caused insecurity within themselves?

Me:

They couldn’t even respect Mustafa in his death with this show of savagery.

@Tweet_Palestine:

What had we done I thought. Did it make any difference in the world when we asked these soldiers who killed Mustafa? I don’t know if it did but I felt that my voice again was my only weapon and even if these soldiers did not feel anything even if they beat me up, still I did something I raised my voice. I refused to be silenced by their guns, I refused to be silenced by the Canister that silenced Mustafa. The Israeli army and government and the Zionist movement need to understand that their weapons of murder and their methods of torture will not stop us, will not silence us. We will keep screaming and fighting and as hard as they try to silence us they will never succeed.

No miracle yesterday in Nabi Saleh: Mustafa Tamimi murdered

2011-12-11T21:28:00.001+02:00

As published by Electronic Intifada

“Ambulance! Ambulance!”

Mustafa Tamimi

(

ActiveStills

)

So far, there were three people who had suffocated from the tear gas, and three people injured by rubber bullets. I saw gas, and so assumed that it was another case of suffocation. But the cries got louder, urgent, desperate — quite unlike the previous calls. Along with those around me, we began running to where the injured person lay, 50 meters away.

Screams. “Mustafa! Mustafa!”

I ran faster. I stopped. The youth I was so used to, the same ones who were always teasing and joking and smoking, were crying. One turned to me and groaned, “His head. His head is split into two!”

My stomach plummeted and I forgot to breathe. Exaggeration, I thought. Impossible. Not here. More screams of “Mustafa!”

I saw the man lying on the ground. I saw the medic with one knee on the ground, his face a mask of shock. I saw his bloodied gloved hands.

Mustafa’s sister was screaming his name. I saw Mustafa. I saw the blood, the big pool of dark red blood. I saw the blood dripping from his head to the ground as they carried him and put him in a taxi, since the ambulance was nowhere to be found. I saw other the tear-streaked faces of other activists, and all I felt was numbness.

Mustafa’s sister Ola was still screaming, so I put my arms around her as she buried her head in my chest. I was babbling, “It’s ok, he’s gonna be fine, it’s ok” but she kept on screaming. Her screams and the disturbing reactions of those around me made my legs numb. Ola then left to go to the watchtower where the taxi with her brother was, and my state of shock crumbled as I gasped out my tears in the arms of my friend.

The first protester death in Nabi Saleh

Friday, 9 December marked the second year since the tiny village began its weekly demonstrations protesting the expropriation of their land for the neighboring illegal settlement of Halamish, and the confiscation of the village’s main water supply, the Kaws Spring. It also marked the 24th anniversary of the first intifada. Fittingly, it seemed only natural the Israeli army would react with more violence than usual. But never did we expect someone to be killed. It’s too awful to think about. Nabi Saleh has a population of around 500 people. Everyone knows everyone in this tight-knit community, so when one gets killed, a big part of us dies also.

Mustafa, 28 years old, was critically injured after Israeli soldiers fired a tear gas canister at his face, and died at a hospital after his treatment was delayed by the occupation forces who had invaded the village to repress the weekly demonstration.

One difference that distinguishes Nabi Saleh from other villages with popular resistance committees, like Nilin, Bilin, Biddu and Budrus is that no one has been killed, or martyred in the protests. Beaten up, yes. Arrested, ditto. But never a death. Until yesterday.

My humanity is only human

Just before Mustafa went into the operating room, some good news came through. He had not suffered any cognitive damages to his brain, although he suffered a brain hemorrhage. There was a chance his eye might be saved. Relief washed over us. We tweeted, “please #Pray4Mustafa.”

I had pictured myself going to Nabi Saleh the next day, not the following Friday. I had imagined sitting in a room with weeping women, after passing by the somber men sitting outside. I had envisioned a funeral and an inconsolable Ola with her mother. Thank God there was a reassuring chance he would be ok. We’d make fun of his bandaged face, just like we did to Abu Hussam when a rubber bullet hit him under the eye a few weeks ago.

Then I got the call that Mustafa had succumbed to his wounds.

My humanity is only human. I hate my enemy. A deep vigorous hatred that courses through my veins whenever I come into contact with them or any form of their system. My humanity is limited. I cannot write a book titled I Shall Not Hate especially if my three daughters and one niece were murdered by my enemy. My humanity is faulty. I dream of my enemy choking on tear gas fired through the windows of their houses, of having their fathers arrested on trumped-up charges, of them wounded by rubber-coated steel bullets, of them being woken up in the middle of the night and dragged away for interrogations that are spliced with bouts of torture.

The soldiers laughed. They smiled. They took pictures of us, zooming in on each of our faces, and they smirked. I screamed at them: “Nazis, terrorists, vermin, programmed killing machines.”

They laughed at us as we screamed at them to let us through to where he was, unconscious in a taxi near the watchtower. They threatened us if we didn’t go back. We waved the flag with his blood on it in front of them. One of them had the audacity to bat it away. We shouted, “His blood is on your hands!” They replied, “So?”

I thought of Mustafa’s younger brother, imprisoned all these eight months. I thought of that brother’s broken jaw and his subsequent stay in the prison hospital. I thought of Juju (Jihad Tamimi), he of the elfin face who arrested a few days ago with no rights to see a lawyer after being wanted by the army for more than a year. I shuddered to think of the reactions of these imprisoned men from the village — Uday, Bassem, Naji, Jihad, Saeed – once they received the news.

I got the call just after 11pm Friday night. I was sworn to secrecy, since his family didn’t want to make it public yet. Anger, bitterness and sorrow overwhelmed me. I cried at my kitchen table.

The author (left) with Ola Tamimi (center) after Mustafa Tamimi was shot at close range by the Israeli military in Nabi Saleh village.

(

Anne Paq

ActiveStills

)

I hate my enemy. I can’t go to sleep. The images are tattooed forever inside my eyelids. They yells, the wailing, the groans, the sobbing all fill my ears like water gushing inside a submarine, dragging me further into a cold dark abyss.

I sought out religion as a source of comfort, yet it didn’t alleviate the anguish. His life was written in al-Lawh al-Mahfooz (The Preserved Tablet) since before he was born. His destiny was to become a martyr. How sweet that will be in the afterlife! But here on this earth, his sister is beside herself. His mother is hurting enormously. Her firstborn gone, no longer to drink the tea she makes or to make her laugh with his jokes.

The images are tattooed forever inside my eyelids. A bloody pulp on one side of his face. The pool of blood rapidly increasing. (Mama, there was so much blood.) His mouth slightly open, lying supine on the cold road. His sister screaming, her face twisted in grief. The young men weeping, looking like little boys again.

I hate them for making us suffer

I loathe my enemy. I will never forgive, I will never forget. People who say such hatred transforms a person into a bitter cruel shell know nothing of the Israeli army. This hatred will not cripple me. What does that mean anyway? Do I not continue to write? Do I not continue to protest? Do I not continue to resist? Hating them sustains me, as opposed to normalizing with them. Their hatred of me makes reinforces the truth of their being murderous machines. My hatred of them makes me human.

I can’t sleep. The shock flows in and then dissipates, before flooding back in again. I see no justification is implementing such violence on a civilian population, no sense in the point-blank murder of a man whose rights are compromised, and whose land is colonized and occupied.

Sure as hell, you will not be forgotten. You will become an icon, a symbol, and the added impetus for persisting and continuing your village’s struggle which reflects the plight of the average Palestinian for its basic rights, equality, and justice.

I hate them for making us suffer. Hating them will give me more strength to shatter their barbaric supremacist ideology, and to bring them under the heavy heel of justice. We’ve suffered so much. I hate them for not giving credit to our sumoud (steadfastness), and so continue to kill and dispossess and imprison and humiliate us.

They killed you, Mustafa. My insides crumple. You, in front of me. My tears are drawn from the depth of my wounded soul. You were engaged to be married. You were wanted by the army because of who you are: a Palestinian who resists the occupation he directly suffers from. I think of your father being denied a permit to be with you, of your mother who had to be granted permission by them to see you in the hospital. I think of your quiet, sardonic expression.

Your screaming sister. Your blood. Your murderers’ smiles.

24 Years Since the First Intifada

2011-12-08T17:55:00.002+02:00

يوافق التاسع من كانون الاول القريب الذكرى الرابعة والعشرين لانطلاق الانتفاضة الفلسطينية الأولى

نحن، مجموعة من الشباب الفلسطيني، أبناء الجيل الثاني للانتفاضة الأولى، كثير منا ولد خلالها، نحني رؤوسنا إجلالاً لأبطال الانتفاضة الأولى، شهداءها وأسراها، أطفالها، شيوخها، نساءها ورجالها.

إننا نرى في الانتفاضة الأولى حقبة هامة في تاريخ شعبنا، على الأجيال أن تتناقلها وتتعلم منها، كما وأنها شكلت نموذجاً تستلهم منه شعوب العالم في نضالها من أجل الكرامة، العدالة والحرية.

بهذه المناسبة نؤكد إيماننا بالمقاومة الفلسطينية الشعبية كجزء أساسي في نضالنا من أجل الحرية وتحصيل حقوق الشعب الفلسطيني، غير القابلة للتصرف أو المساومة أو التفريط، وبمواصلة النضال حتى تحقيق الحرية والعودة.

عليه، نتوجه بنداء لكافة أبناء شعبنا في الوطن والمنفى بإحياء هذه الذكرى من خلال تكريم صانعي الانتفاضة وأبطالها، ومواصلة طريقهم.

كما نتوجه بنداء لكافة المدونين الفلسطينيين في الوطن والمنفى بتخصيص مدوناتهم يوم التاسع من كانون الاول لنشر قصص أو مقابلات مع شخصيات عايشت الانتفاضة الاولى أو مقالات أو صور وأشرطة توثق الانتفاضة، وندعو كل مبدع فلسطيني، أن يقدم شيئاً في هذه المناسبة وفق ما يراه مناسباً وممكناً.

عاش شعبنا وتحيا فلسطين

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"December 9th this year is the 24th anniversary of the First Palestinian Intifada.

We, a group of Palestinian youth, children of the First Intifada, bow in front of the heroes of the Intifada, its martyrs, children, elders, women and men.

We view the Intifada as a significant era in the history of the Palestinian people that future generations need to learn from, and that many have used as a model in their struggle for justice, dignity and freedom.

On this occasion we affirm our belief in the Palestinian Popular Resistance, as a principal part of our struggle for freedom and Palestinian rights that is not open for compromise. We support the struggle to achieve freedom and the right of return.
Based on that, we are calling out to all our people in Palestine and in exile to commemorate this anniversary, by honoring the heroes of this Intifada and to follow in their footsteps.
We are also calling out to all the Palestinian bloggers in Palestine and in exile to dedicate their blogs on the 9th of December to honor the people of the First Intifada through writing stories from the Intifada or conducting interviews with the heroes, publishing videos or photos etc. We also call on Palestinian artists for a dedication in honor of the Intifada.

Long live our people and long live Palestine

For more activities, calls for action, posts, and news follow #Intifada1 on twitter

An Israeli Soldier Cares For My Safety

2011-11-27T22:55:00.005+02:00

The following took place Friday, November 25th in the village of Nabi Saleh during its weekly protest against the Israeli occupation. A group of protesters managed to reach the hill, where a few hundred meters below was the village spring the illegal settlement of Halamish took by force. If you're not an Israeli settler (or their ilk), you are prevented from getting even close to the spring.

“Watch out. You might get hit by a stone.”
For a split second, various images flitted through my mind. One was me throwing my head back, convulsing and positively howling at a full moon in a deserted forest. Another was a perverse natal instinct to hug the soldier, before throttling him into seeing reason. The third was a kaleidoscope of colors. It wasn’t a full scale explosion, but my mouth became unhinged with “dignified” fury.
“You dare to stand in front me, and pretend that you care about my safety? You’re pretending to be worried if a rock hits me? How dare you, when you come here every week—and not just on Fridays but throughout the week— and terrorize this village by spraying them with skunk water, firing tear gas and rubber bullets and live ammunition at their children, at the women, the men! How many children have you arrested? How many houses have you raided? How many have suffocated from the tear gas fired deliberately in their homes, how many kids have you fired at? You don’t care about any of that!”
His little comment solicited the same reaction from the other sabaya/young women around me. We were shouting over each other, then pausing to listen, then picking up on each other’s sentences with added vitriol.
“Anyway,” I added, more calmly. “These stones have a special homing device built into them; they only hit occupiers.”
Two rocks then crashed into the protective shield of one soldier standing to my right. The one in front of me was completely flummoxed.
“Where are you from?” I asked. “Brooklyn?”
“Fuck Brooklyn.” His muddy green eyes were shocked. At that moment, it hit me. I felt so sorry for him.
The commander then marched up. “Go back ten meters,” he barked.
We stayed where we are. If we were guys, there would have been pushing, shoving, anything to provoke us and for them to justify firing from close range. But we were four Palestinian women with a few other Israeli and international activists. Never underestimate the regal wrath of Palestinian women. We will go batshit crazy on you.
“Please go back ten meters.”
Ah, the order turned into a request, which brought about another stab of the kaleidoscope colors.
“You go back! This is Palestinian land, you are the ones encroaching upon this land, and you are the ones perpetuating the colonization of an indigenous people, so you get off this land!”
The commander stared.
My sister and her friend were enjoying themselves a bit too much with their directed banter at them:
“Do you bleed differently from me? We bleed the same blood!”
“Free your minds! Zionism has imprisoned you!”
“You are a victim of your own government’s policies!”
“Put down your gun, we are protesting peacefully!”
A couple of teenagers baffling the Israeli soldiers in front of us by tearing into their state-fed propaganda. I was thoroughly amused, to say the least. I turned to another soldier.
“Isn’t this much better than firing tear gas canisters at us? Look, we’re having a dialogue! We’re talking. We’re not negotiating, since that would imply two equal parties, but we’re conversing!”
One of the girls pointed to another soldier’s face.
“You’re bleeding,” she said.
“From the rocks you throw at us.”
Kids with guns. This was a new unit. A young, scared unit who broke their own rules by replying back.
It was such a ridiculous situation. I touched his submachine gun. “Look at you, decked out like you’re about to face an army. You’re wearing a helmet, knee pads, bulletproof vest, and this gun of yours that shoots sound bombs and tear gas and bullets. We are armed with nothing. Do you realize how stupid you look?”
“You are armed with rocks.” The eyes shifted, the feet shuffled.
Mr Muddy Green Eyes. I felt so sorry for him.

Are the Freedom Rides a detour for the struggle?

2011-11-23T23:14:00.004+02:00

My latest op-ed published on Electronic Intifada

Is Palestine’s an anti-colonial or civil rights struggle?

(

Ryan Rodrick Beiler

)

Last week, six courageous Palestinians attempted to defy racism, segregation and apartheid by boarding Jewish settler-only buses in the hopes of reaching Jerusalem, a city off limits to Palestinians in the West Bank.

Activists and bloggers, intellectuals and independent journalists all supported the Palestinian Freedom Riders for their US civil rights movement-inspired act. Emotions ran high as it was clearly emphasized that racial supremacy still exists in this day and age, and highlighted were the harrowing parallels between oppression in the Jim Crow US South and in Palestine.

But crucial differences remain — for one thing, the indigenous population of Palestine is occupied by a colonial settler population; for another, there are two separate and completely different systems for Palestinians and Israelis, such as military and civilian courts, respectively, rather than a two-tiered system.

However, the symbolic, media-friendly act — and its debatable relevance to the average Palestinian — begs some important questions.

There is no doubt that what the six Freedom Riders set out to achieve was of significance. They challenged Israel’s arbitrary regime of exclusive settler-only networks that serve the illegal settlements throughout the West Bank; they highlighted the human rights abusing complicity of two companies, Veolia and Egged, which operate dozens of the segregated bus lines; and they fought for an essential basic right: freedom of movement. Apartheid is very much alive in occupied Palestine. It is our reality that we breathe through our congested lungs every minute of our waking lives.

Anti-colonial vs civil rights struggle

The Freedom Rides were intended as an anti-colonial act mirroring a previous and successful civil rights one. But our struggle is not a civil rights one. It is a struggle against a foreign occupation. We must be calling for the liberation of an indigenous population under a devastating settler-colonial rule, one that has continued to ethnically cleanse, commit large scale massacres, impose collective punishment, imprison and restrict the movement of Palestinians for decades.

The intentions of the Freedom Rides were transparent and clear, as stated by the second press release in which they stated that they do not seek to desegregate the settler buses, as the “presence of these colonizers and the infrastructure that serves them is illegal and must be dismantled” (“Palestinian Freedom Riders to ride settler buses to Jerusalem,” 13 November 2011).

But by using a tactic specific to the US civil rights movement, one risks the interpretation that Palestinians are asking for the same rights as settlers.

As one young activist critical of the Freedom Rides commented to me: “Do you obstruct settlements by demanding to get on a bus? What you are demanding when you attempt to ride a bus is the right to ride it, not the right to say I don’t want this bus here to start with. You don’t ask to ride the bus if you don’t want the bus in your neighborhood.”

She added, “There is an illegal railway in Jerusalem constructed on [illegally-occupied] territory that endangers children as [trains] pass by in residential areas … if I were to object to this train’s existence, do I make a protest and ask to ride on the train or do I sleep on the train tracks to stop it from coming to my area?”

Indeed, many Palestinians take issue with settlers factoring in a key role in the Freedom Rides event, saying that it blurs the lines of normalization of occupation and apartheid.

The boycott, divestment and sanctions movement defines normalization as “the participation in any project, initiative or activity, in Palestine or internationally, that aims (implicitly or explicitly) to bring together Palestinians (and/or Arabs) and Israelis (people or institutions) without placing as its goal resistance to and exposure of the Israeli occupation and all forms of discrimination and oppression against the Palestinian people” (“ Israel’s Exceptionalism: Normalizing the Abnormal,” the Palestinian Campaign for the Academic and Boycott of Israel, 31 October 2011).

Although the boycott call has been endorsed by nearly 200 Palestinian civil society organizations and political parties, the working definition of normalization of the boycott movement differs from many Palestinians’ personal definitions of normalization. Some view any association with settlers as normalization, others a bit more nuanced but still don’t like the idea, and still others consider it within the specific context in question. The reactions like that of the young activist I mentioned exemplify this concern.

Honor Palestinian resistance

The positive coverage in the Western corporate media shows that the Freedom Rides action appealed to foreign consumption. But it’s not up to Palestinian resistance to appease the tastes of Western audiences. We have our own lively and proud history of resistance stretching back to the days of British Mandate rule, exemplified by popular strikes, boycotts and demonstrations.

Moreover, tactics tailored to western tastes and reactions distract from mobilizing Palestinians on the ground into an effective popular resistance movement. The first Palestinian intifada was a true popular uprising in every sense. Palestinian society collectively organized strikes and rallied together. The level of cooperation was present in families hiding resistance fighters, and in mosques and private organizations hosting educational studies after the universities and schools were shut down.

Today, activism and popular resistance isn’t centralized but, rather, is scattered throughout particular villages and parts of cities. For an act that carries huge potential and holds meaningful implications by connecting the current reality of Palestinians to the history of other oppressed societies, there should have been more awareness on the Palestinian street of its occurrence.

The Freedom Rides event was very exclusive. This is in stark contrast to the recent Freedom Waves mini flotilla campaign, where activists were directly involved with producing, translating, revising and distributing fact sheets and press releases and statements for the UN and mobilizing people on the street and engaging with the media. It was a microcosm of popular resistance as activists from throughout historic Palestine all worked together efficiently to send the message of ending the blockade on Gaza and demanding protection for the passengers, and this message was directed not only at the West and foreign press but to Palestinians as well.

Any act of civil resistance should be inclusive of many sectors of Palestinians. The same efforts that the Freedom Riders took to coordinate with organizations in the US and elsewhere should have also happened in Palestine.

And while the history of other oppressed peoples unquestionably offers its lessons to us as an occupied population, we should be well aware of our own unique history of resistance, and the need for our movement to encompass all sectors of Palestinian society and the historic demands of our anti-colonial struggle.

Palestinians clarify goal of "Freedom Rides" challenge to segregated Israeli buses

2011-11-19T00:41:00.002+02:00

As posted on Electronic Intifada

Watch live streaming video from freedomriders at livestream.com

There were worries from some Palestinian youth regarding the first press release of the Freedom Rides. Reading between the lines, the wording could have been better and the purpose of the mission was in danger of being intrepreted as Palestinians demanding equal rights with the illegal Israeli settlers instead of the proper message of divulging to the world one aspect of the apartheid regime they live under. The second statement released yesterday 13 November is longer but more comprehensive and expressive:

FREEDOM RIDERS
Sunday, November 13, 2011*
For Immediate Release*

* Palestinian Freedom Riders to Ride Settler Buses to Jerusalem
* Inspired by the Freedom Rides of the US Civil Rights Movement Palestinian activists will attempt to board segregated Israeli settler buses to occupied East Jerusalem

[Ramallah] Groups of Palestinian Freedom Riders will attempt to board segregated settler buses heading to Jerusalem through the occupied West Bank this Tuesday November 15, in an act of civil disobedience that takes its inspiration from the US Civil Rights Movement Freedom Riders aim to challenge Israel's apartheid policies, the ban on Palestinians' access to Jerusalem, and the overall segregated reality created by a military and settler occupation that is the cornerstone of Israel's colonial regime. While parallels exist between occupied Palestine and the segregated U.S. South in terms of the underlying racism and the humiliating treatment suffered then by blacks and now by Palestinians, there are also significant differences. In the 1960s U.S. South, black people had to sit in the back of the bus; in occupied Palestine, Palestinians are not even allowed ON the bus nor on the roads that the buses travel on, which are built on stolen Palestinian land.

In undertaking this action Palestinians do not seek the desegregation of settler buses, as the presence of these colonizers and the infrastructure that serves them is illegal and must be dismantled. As part of their struggle for freedom, justice and dignity, Palestinians demand the ability to be able to travel freely on their own roads, on their own land, including the right to travel to Jerusalem.

Palestinian activists also aim to expose two of the companies that profit from Israel's apartheid policies and encourage global boycott of and divestment from them. The Israeli Egged and French Veolia bus companies operate dozens of segregated lines that run through the occupied West Bank, including East Jerusalem, many of them subsidized by the state. Both companies are also involved in the Jerusalem Light Rail, a train project that links illegal settlements in East Jerusalem to the western part of the city. By facilitating population transfer into occupied Palestinian territory, Egged and Veolia are actively and knowingly complicit in Israel's settlement enterprise, which the International Court of Justice has determined to be a breach of international law, and particularly Article 49 of the Fourth Geneva Convention prohibiting an occupying power from transferring part of its population into occupied territory.

This Tuesday, Palestinian Freedom Riders will head to Jewish-only bus stops in the West Bank and attempt to board the settler buses. Palestinians understand that this act of nonviolent disobedience may result in violent attacks and even death at the hands of Israeli settlers that are to Israel what the Klu Klux Klan was to the Jim Crow South, or the authorities that protect them. Nonetheless, the Freedom Riders believe that this act of civil resistance is necessary to draw the attention of the world to the immorality of Israel's occupation and apartheid system as well as to compel justice-loving people to take a stand and divest from Egged, Veolia, and all companies that enable and profit from it.

The Freedom Riders will be joined by activists from all around the world who will stage activities in their cities that highlight the systematic oppression of Palestinians and the need to divest from Egged and Veolia.

For inquiries send an email to palestinianfreedomriders@gmail.com

Background

The buses that the Freedom Riders will be boarding are operated by the Egged, the largest Israeli public transportation company, and by the French transnational company Veolia. Both companies are complicit in Israel's violations of international law due to their involvement in and profiting from Israeli's illegal settlement infrastructure. Palestinian Freedom Riders endorse the call for boycotting both companies, as well as all others involved in Israel's violations of human rights and international law.

In July 2011, an Egged subsidiary won a public tender to run bus services in the Waterland region of the Netherlands, north of Amsterdam. The company makes money from trampling on the rights of Palestinians and has been a target of the boycott, divestment and sanctions (BDS) campaign, which is endorsed by an overwhelming majority of Palestinian civil society. The Freedom Riders call on the people of the Netherlands to sever all dealings with companies, like Egged, involved in human rights violations.

Veolia has been a target of an international divestment campaign for running bus lines through the West Bank connecting settlements to Jerusalem and for its involvement in the Jerusalem Light Rail which connects Israel's illegal settlements in and around occupied East Jerusalem to the western part of the city, thereby directly servicing the settlement enterprise.

Over 42 percent of Palestinian land in the West Bank has been taken over for the building of Jewish settlements and their associated regime (including the wall which was declared illegal by the International Court of Justice in 2004), depriving local communities of access to their water resources as well as agricultural lands. Settling Israelis in the occupied Palestinian territory constitutes a war crime according to the Fourth Geneva Convention[1] and the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court.[2]

The occupied West Bank and Gaza Strip constitute only 22 percent of the Palestinian homeland from which over 750,000 Palestinians were ethnically cleansed in 1948 when the state of Israel was created. Since then, Palestinian refugees have been languishing in refugee camps and other places of exile, denied the right to return to their homes.

>Settlements' infrastructure includes hundreds of kilometers of segregated roads that are forbidden for Palestinians to use. They carve deep into the West Bank further separating Palestinians and their cities and villages from each other.

[1] See "Israel's settlement policy is a war crime under the Fourth Geneva Convention," The Palestinian Center for Human Rights, Gaza, highlighting the relevant articles of the Fourth Geneva Convention to support the determination that settlements are a war crime, at http://www.pchrgaza.org/Intifada/Settlements.conv.htm; see also "Demolitions, new settlements in East Jerusalem could amount to war crimes - UN expert," UN News Centre, June 29, 2010, at http://www.un.org/apps/news/story.asp?NewsID=35175&Cr=Palestin&Cr1.

[2] Article 8(2)(b)(viii) of the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court prohibits "[t]he transfer, directly or indirectly, by the Occupying Power of parts of its own civilian population into the territory it occupies."

Arabic version

University campuses across the US have jumped on board (no pun intended) on the idea and have planned for similar actions to be staged tomorrow to raise more awareness in their communities. The wonderful author and activist Alice Walker, who was involved in the US Civil Rights movement in the 1960s conveyed her solidarity and support for the Freedom Riders on her blog. It is now less than 24 hours before the brave Freedom Riders of the 21st century attempt to break the mold of oppression, indignity and intolerable suffering in order to lead a path to justice, freedom, and equality. Will Israel's reaction be its own well trodden path of violence infused with blinding hysteria and hatred?

* Twitter: @palfreedomrides
* Email: ridingforfreedom@gmail.com
* Wesbite: palfreedomrides.blogspot.com
* Live Streaming
* Facebook: Palestinian Freedom Rides

Tuesday, 15 November 2011. The whole world will be watching.

Freedom Rides in the 21st Century

2011-11-11T19:34:00.001+02:00

As posted on Electronic Intifada

Western media lamentations of Palestinians needing figureheads such as a Gandhi or a Martin Luther King to effectively resist the Israeli occupation are self-righteous and uncalled for. An occupied people under international law can resist in any way they want. However, raising awareness and challenging the occupation in creative ways definitely doesn't hurt the Palestinian cause, and so a group of Palestinian youth announced that on Tuesday, 15 November (incidentally, the PA's self-designated Palestinian Independence Day) they will replicate the 1960s American civil rights movement, specifically the Freedom Rides --which celebrate its 50th anniversary this year.

Just as the American freedom riders -- black and white -- boarded segregated buses together, defying Jim Crow segregation, the Palestinian freedom riders will board segregated Israeli buses that pass through Jewish-only settlements.

This act will highlight the apartheid realities of Israel which govern the Palestinians, the same laws and practices that Judge Richard Goldstone so readily dismissed in his recent op-ed in the New York Times. By drawing comparisons with the US civil rights movement, the Freedom Rides of the 21st century will undoubtedly prove how all oppressed societies are ultimately connected. Palestinians on those buses risk putting themselves in danger, that is if the three-pronged fury of fanatical settlers, the Israeli army, and other Israeli citizens rains down upon them like the wrath of an exclusivist God. They also risk being arrested for days or months or years under Israel's military law. The press release is below:

7 November 2011
On Tuesday, November 15th, 2011, Palestinian activists will reenact the US Civil Rights Movement’s Freedom Rides to the American South by boarding segregated Israeli public transportation in the West Bank to travel to occupied East Jerusalem.
Next Tuesday, Palestinian activists will attempt to board segregated Israeli public transportation headed from inside the West Bank to occupied East Jerusalem in an act of civil disobedience inspired by the Freedom Riders of the U.S. Civil Rights Movement in the 60’s.
Fifty years after the U.S. Freedom Riders staged mixed-race bus rides through the roads of the segregated American South, Palestinian Freedom Riders will be asserting their right for liberty and dignity by disrupting the military regime of the Occupation through peaceful civil disobedience.
The Freedom Riders seek to highlight Israel’s attempts to illegally sever occupied East Jerusalem from the rest of the West Bank, and the apartheid system that Israel has imposed on Palestinians in the occupied territories.
Several Israeli companies, among them Egged and Veolia, operate dozens of lines that run through the occupied West Bank and East Jerusalem, many of them subsidized by the state. They run between different Israeli settlements, connecting them to each other and cities inside Israel. Some lines connecting Jerusalem to other cities inside Israel, such as Eilat and Beit She’an, are also routed to pass through the West Bank.
Israelis suffer almost no limitations on their freedom of movement in the occupied Palestinian territory, and are even allowed to settle in it, contrary to international law. Palestinians, in contrast, are not allowed to enter Israel without procuring a special permit from Israeli authorities. Even Palestinian movement inside the Occupied Territories is heavily restricted, with access to occupied East Jerusalem and some 8% of the West Bank in the border area also forbidden without a similar permit.
While it is not officially forbidden for Palestinians to use Israeli public transportation in the West Bank, these lines are effectively segregated, since many of them pass through Jewish-only settlements, to which Palestinian entry is prohibited by a military decree.
Updated on November 8, 2011

Prisoner of the Day: Hazem Elaydi

2011-10-17T23:53:00.007+02:00

The Prisoner of the Day Campaign was created as a response to the alarming yet expected media coverage discrepancy regarding the recent prisoner deal arrived at by Hamas and Israel. While the world is holding its breath for that portentous moment when Israeli Corporal Gilad Shalit is back in his mother's arms after five years of captivity in the Gaza strip, the 1027 Palestinian prisoners are treated as an empty numerical entity. This campaign will devote each day for a Palestinian prisoner, either included in the deal or not, as a means of awareness and a reminder that Palestinians will always be humans.

Prisoner of the Day: Hazem Elaydi

Hazem Elaydi is from the Maghazi refugee camp in Gaza. He was a young man who loved to read, and would get his hands on every newspaper he could get. In the summers he would help out at his father's store but would end up reading the stacks of newspapers he took with him instead. He was a highly intelligent knowledgeable person with an interest in knowing what was happening in places around the world. Everyone who knew him recognized that he had great potential. He was generally well-liked and respected by people owing to his pious and conservative nature.

Hazem Elyadi as a young man

He was majoring in Chemistry at An-Najah University in the West Bank, but at the onset of the first intifada he happened to be visiting his family back in Gaza when the borders were closed, thus effectively ending his education as it was impossible to get back.

During the first intifada, it was common policy for Israel to send out orders for random young Palestinian men to report to Israeli officials for interrogation. Usually it meant nothing, but when Hazem went it turned out to be more than just a routine interrogation. He was kept in administrative detention for three months as the Israelis attempted to gather charges against him. Two days before he was due to be released, two inmates who were being tortured told similar stories about Hazem. Back then, policy dictated that if two people gave the same testimony, the person it was concerning had to confess. After being beaten and tortured, Hazem confessed to false claims and was sentenced to four consecutive life sentences without the courtesy of being given a fair trial.

Hazem's niece Fidaa got to know her uncle via secret phone calls. Cell phones of course are forbidden in prisons and are smuggled in. After spending the winter in Gaza, Fidaa wrote an eloquent piece highlighting how love of a family member imprisoned cannot be stunted the cold prison walls. She also drew attention to the conditions the prisoners undergo, and the humiliation they must routinely suffer. Since 2007, Hazem hasn't received any family visits as part of the extensive collective punishment on Palestinians in Gaza, who were forbidden from seeing their loved ones behind Israeli bars.

The amazing news is that today, Hazem Elyadi was released as part of the prisoner swap deal between Hamas and Israel. After 21 years in Israeli jails, he is now back in Gaza in his ailing mother's arms. I asked Fidaa how the celebrations were most likely going to pan out. She replied,

"As far as I know, every relative we have--no matter how distantly related-- will gather to welcome him. I'm assuming over 200 people will gather. It'll be chaos! I'm guessing some animals will be slaughtered for the occasion and a huge feast will take place. I'm also guessing that the women have been working for days making sweets to pass around to family, friends, and neighbor. The celebration will begin with his welcome at the Rafah crossing and then an hour's drive to Khatiba Square in Gaza City where thousands will gather and all of the prisoners will be shown a hero's welcome. My relatives will be travelling in busloads to Gaza City to celebrate and welcome the prisoners. The they will go to my uncle's house where our matriarch, my grandmother, lives. They have decorated the house days in advance. The wedding-like festivities will likely begin at sunset and continue throughout the night."

Fidaa is a law student in Texas. She desperately wishes she was there to welcome back her uncle and to witness the happiness etched on her family's faces in Gaza as they receive Hazem. This is where technology is truly a blessed thing.

"I wish with every ounce of my being that I could be there with them. For the first time in weeks, I won't be spending 8 hours in the library after class. I'm going straight home so my mother and I can video chat with out relatives in Maghazi and Deir il-Balah refugee camps. I will speak to my uncle, screen-to-screen, at 4 pm Dallas time, 12 am Gaza time."

Fidaa will also celebrate the release of her uncle in her own way. She made brownies for her 90 person law school class, a great idea as not only do the rest of the students enjoy the brownies but also opens their eyes to the plight of Palestinian prisoners, and what the released prisoners mean for their families away from the corporate mainstream media that paint the prisoner deal from only one side (that of Israeli Corporal Gilad Shalit.)

So what's next for Hazem? Well, as he was incarcerated as a young man he never married. Fidaa's aunts already have that covered though, as those living in different countries in the Middle East are making travel plans to Gaza as soon as possible. Fidaa thinks that a wedding is already in the making, with a bride already found!

"Rumor has it that the family has already found him a bride, and they're simply waiting for his approval and within a week there will be an engagement. I will not be surprised if his wedding is in less than a month! I'm hoping they will wait until the end of December so that I have a chance to go to Gaza after finals and make it to the wedding."

It seems like the Elyadi family have a lot to celebrate over the next few months. Hazem's return, Eid with Hazem, Hazem's engagement, Hazem's sahra [nighttime party] before his wedding, and Hazem's wedding.

All the best to Hazem Elyadi, an innocent man who spent twenty one oppressive years in the Israeli occupation's jails.

Prisoner of the Day: Majd Ziada

2011-10-17T16:22:00.005+02:00

Prisoner of the Day: Majd Mahmoud Ahmad Ziada

Majd Ziada was barely out of his teens when he got arrested by the Israeli Occupation Forces. It was at the height of the second intifada in 2002 when the Israeli army during its collective arrest campaign detained Majd on the evening of the Israeli invasion of the twin cities Ramallah and Al-Bireh. He was 19 years old.

Before he got arrested, Majd enjoyed playing basketball at Ramallah's First Club in al-Tira. With the outbreak of the second intifada however, life became more grim. He lost his best friend who was killed by the Israeli soldiers, and Majd himself was once used as a human shield where he was forced to walk in front of the Israeli tanks. Just before he was due to take his final exams of his senior year (tawjehi) the Occupying Army raided his home and dragged him out where he was bundled into a jeep. His family knew nothing about his whereabouts or condition for fifty days after his arrest. They then learned from a newspaper that he had been beaten up in custody.

When he was four years old, Majd witnessed the arrest the of his politically active father, Mahmoud. He told his dad, "Don't worry Baba, I will take care of my mother and baby sister." In the absence of his father, his mother worked to support the young family. It was left up to Majd to look after his baby sister Raya, as he carried her, fed her, put her to sleep. His father was in and out of prison a total of seven times, and was never once convicted of anything. But because of the mangled policies of administrative detention, it was "legal" to arrest him and keep him detained for any period of time without ever knowing the reason why.

In a 2009 interview, Mahmoud Ziada recalls: "The Israeli soldiers searched our home, then they handcuffed me and took me to the military jeep that was standing in front of our house. As I was climbing into the jeep, my five year old son Majd shouted through the window 'Baba Mahmoud, don't lose courage!'"

Majd accompanied his mother to visit his father in prison, and he used to go with her to national meetings. At demonstrations he would shout national slogans and sing national songs.

Majd with his father and sisters making a human tower

Initially, and for absolutely no reason, Majd was sentenced to 15 years in prison. At his appeal, the military court (which tries all Palestinian prisoners) gave him an extra 15 years for a defiant statement he gave:

"I do not believe in this court because it is an unjust one. I am opposed to the occupation and I will remain opposed to the occupation, so go ahead and sentence me. I will join my brothers and sisters in jail and consider it a badge of honor."

Majd suffers from a life threatening condition. He lost his hearing in his right ear due to acute ear inflammation, which could have been prevented had he received adequate medical attention. There is a huge risk that the disease could spread to the rest of his body, rendering it fatal, and so he desperately needs surgery.

His family are granted rare permission to visit him in prison. For the first seven years of his imprisonment only his youngest sister Hurriyah was able to visit him due to her status as a minor. After she turned sixteen, visits became more harder to procure. Afterwards limited permission was given to their mother to visit him once every few months. Last year Majd's father was finally granted permission by the Israeli Prison Service to see his son. The last time Majd saw his family was two months ago, after a five year gap. Hurriyah and her mother were the lucky ones to go, as only two people are allowed on visits.

His sister Hurriyah has this to say: "I haven't been able to hug my brother Majd Ziada for ten years because of the Israeli Occupation. When Majd was imprisoned I was 12, now I am 22."

Majd Mahmoud Ahmad Ziada has been on hunger strike for 21 days.

You Might Take My Life, But You Can't Take My Soul*

2011-10-15T12:11:00.005+02:00

The Palestinian prisoners’ hunger strike has been going on for seventeen days, at the time of writing heading to the eighteenth day shortly. The Minister of Prisoners Affairs Issa Qaraqe labeled the prisoners’ conditions as a “disaster” with some suffering “complete bodily collapse.” I’ve struggled with writing about this topic. How to blend in the personal, the observations, the analysis, the facts, and the flowery writ all in one cohesive go?

Prisoner statistics and tidbits have ingrained themselves deep inside my brain. Since Israel’s occupation of the East Jerusalem, West Bank, and the Gaza Strip in 1967 over 700,000 Palestinians have been detained by Israel. Each Palestinian family has had at one point or another a member that was imprisoned. Two fifths of all Palestinian males have spent time behind Israeli bars. 7000 children since the year 2000 have been detained. Currently there are 15 members of Parliament imprisoned. Female prisoners who give birth in prison have their arms and legs shackled. 87% of the children arrested have been subjected to physical torture. At the height of the second intifada, there were 11,000 prisoners detained. A UN report published in March of this year puts the number of prisoners at 6000. According to a report released by the Israeli Prison Service (IPS) in October of the same year the prisoners numbered around 5503. 270 prisoners are held on administrative detention, a term meaning “being held indefinitely without ever knowing the reason why.” Most prisoners are denied fair trials and instead are subjected to arbitrary military trials where the occupier is judge, jury and executioner.

Almost every article covering the hunger strikers has a paragraph that starts with the following sentence somewhere. On September 27^th, an open ended hunger strike was announced by prisoners affiliated with the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PLFP) to protest the squalid conditions and rights abuse that is their reality. The next few days saw a rapid increase of prisoners from all factions taking part in the hunger strike. Wednesday, October 12^th was a global day of solidarity with the Palestinian prisoners, who had been on strike for 16 days. This story has received little to absolute zero coverage by the western media. Armed with social media, Palestinian and international activists and bloggers used the hashtags #tweepstrike and #HS4Palestine to create more awareness, and one line was retweeted hundreds of times to declare their solidarity by hunger striking for 24 hours on Wednesday: My name is (------) and I will go on a hunger strike on Wednesday in solidarity with the Palestinian prisoners.

I’ve had uncles on both sides of my family imprisoned. My own father was arrested three times. One of my maternal uncles, Bahjat Itayem (God rest his soul) became the youngest prisoner in the West Bank and Gaza when he was arrested in 1975 at the age of sixteen years old. Mahmoud, the youngest of my father’s brother, was also sixteen when he was arrested. The first intifada surged with youth throwing rocks at Israeli armored jeeps and soldiers. One time the soldiers chased a group of youth, Mahmoud included. He took a wrong turn into a road blocked with concrete slabs—a sure tactic from the Israeli army designed for the very purpose of trapping people and making sure they didn’t get away. The soldiers piled army fatigues on Mahmoud so that no one would recognize him and frog marched him to the jeep. When this story was told me years later, one harrowing detail stood out more than the rest. When news of Mahmoud’s arrest reached my grandmother, she took to roaming the narrow streets of the Khan Younis refugee camp in her bare feet, wailing my uncle’s name.

Ramallah, befitting of the bubble it is should consider changing its name to Apathallah. Perhaps people would object to its sacrilegious term. Or maybe they’d be too apathetic to care. Since the prisoners’ announcement of their hunger strike, a symbolic tent was set up in Clock Square. Posters and pictures of prisoners decorated the scene. Banners were hung from building bearing slogans of freedom. A few days later, a group of youth decided to also go on hunger strike in solidarity with the prisoners. They camped out in the tent. Another tent was set up outside the Red Cross building in Al-Bireh and the hunger strikers moved there. The initial tent was ignored, and hardly anyone visited it. At noon, the tent in front of the Red Cross building would have maybe fifty people sitting there, mostly comrades from the PFLP and families of the prisoners. The posters there are mostly of the PFLP’s secretary general Ahmad Saadat, sentenced to thirty years and who has been in solitary confinement since his arrest three years ago. I’ve frequented the tent a few times in the late afternoon for a couple of hours at a time. A handful of comrades or activists sit around, sharing stories of the tear gassed protest at Ofer prison on Tuesday the 11th, shaking their heads in disbelief at an ancient mother of a prisoner who declared that she would also go on hunger strike indefinitely, smoking cigarette after cigarette as they confirmed the increasing number of prisoners joining in. Representatives or supporters from other political factions were not present.

Yet the subject of prisoners is not confined to any political faction. It is a highly significant national issue, highlighting the plight of the Palestinians who refused the shackles of Israeli occupation and colonization. Even before that, when Palestinians resisted the increasingly arbitrary measures of the British Mandate rule, three Palestinian prisoners, Mohammad Jamjoum, Fuad Hijazi, and Atta al-Zeer were hanged in the Buraq Revolution of 1929. Forget Israel’s depiction of those same prisoners as a monolithic entity of terrorists and child killers. It’s not exactly in Israel’s agenda to paint them in a favorable or even neutral light. The prisoners are true freedom fighters who have sacrificed years and years of their lives for a conviction so deeply cemented within their souls. They refused to live in their own homeland as a dirty inferior race. They refused to recognize the occupation’s whitewashed so-called legitimacy, which came off the back of a racist ideology that first settled a tiny white minority on the indigenous lands of the Palestinians who were living there for hundreds of years. Many were arrested for no reason, or judging by Israel’s standards of being either a security threat or an existentialist threat to the poor beleaguered state of Israel. Paltry misdemeanors such as throwing rocks or participating in protests or knowing someone who might be a dangerous person were more than enough reasons to get imprisoned. Prisoners became another icon of sumoud, steadfastness. Injustice will not stand for so long. The prisoners, along with the refugees, became another resolute pillar in Palestine’s struggle for peace, justice and equality.

Tuesday night, the same day as the Ofer protest came the news that Hamas has secured a deal with Israel which would see the release of over a thousand Palestinian prisoners in return for the release of Israeli soldier Gilad Shalit, a corporal who was captured along the border of Gaza five years ago. As more news began to trickle in, I was initially hit with euphoria. All of the women and children would be released. Three hundred prisoners sentenced to multiple life sentences would be released. Even more, hundreds of families would be joyfully reunited with their sons, husbands, fathers, brothers, wives, sisters, daughters, mothers. I still believe that the Israeli government doesn’t care for Shalit. They could have made this deal years ago. Call it a popularity call for Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. Call it Israel finally adjusting to the recent geopolitical changes around it. The same motives apply to Hamas; a boost in popularity (anyone, UN failed bid for statehood or a thousand prisoners released?), hesitancy to pledge support to Syria’s domestic bloody crackdown on its own people. The scenes in Gaza were of celebratory festivities, with various hacks from Hamas making seminal speeches filled with vows and victory speak, and de facto Prime Minister Ismail Haniyeh throwing sweets to the crowd. Ramallah it seemed couldn’t care less. A few people went to the Manara Square and were met with the PA’s security forces, ready to crack down on any non-PA decreed initiative. The scenario was now flipped on to its other side. A few weeks ago Ramallah was bouncing with bused in Fateh supporters from neighboring villages and towns to support Mahmoud Abbas’ UN bid, while Gaza city was silent.

More details emerged. The release would happen in two stages, one next week either Monday or Tuesday (450 prisoners) and the rest after two months. Marwan Barghouti was going to be released. So was Ahmad Saadat. Wait, no they’re not. Oh yes they are. No, no it’s been confirmed. Are you sure? Barghouti, Saadat not to be released! Barghouti, Saadat are not part of the deal! A thousand and twenty seven prisoners are to be released. They are not leaders of political parties, but they are just as equal. Let’s not forget that. Forty prisoners were to be exiled from Egypt to an unknown third country. This is in direct violation of the Fourth Geneva convention, which prohibits prisoners under occupation from being moved outside the country. Over two hundred prisoners originally from the West Bank are going to be exiled to Gaza, the dumping ground for those bad apples. Who’s to say Israel won’t arrest another thousand Palestinians in the upcoming weeks, months? Discontent raised its head. Is that why Hamas affiliated prisoners didn’t join in the hunger strike under its heading? Are you all happy that a thousand prisoners are getting released? What about the other six thousand? Are you celebrating the fact that one Israeli is worth a thousand Palestinians? Are we that dehumanized? Are we dogs? No, dogs are better off than us. This deal is worth nothing if my sons don’t get out! How did they decide which ones to release? If my sons aren’t on that list…They are no better than my sons! My sons! My sons! Auntie, God willing your sons will be free.

Wednesday I went on the global hunger strike in solidarity with the prisoners. It was extremely heartening to read the many tweets from people all over as they declared on Twitter that they too will be on hunger strike. How long does it take for one to die from starvation? Three weeks, I heard. What if you were tear gassed in your cell first, beaten up, and crammed into cells way past its holding capacity? What if you get thrown into solitary confinement and are denied basic medical attention? Such was the reaction from the IPS to the hunger strikers who are not demanding for rainbows to squeeze out skittles, or for luxurious water beds, or for five star dining. They demand an end to solitary confinement. They demand their right to education and access to books. They demand family visits. They demand to be treated like humans, and not like animals with chains bounding their hands and feet during meetings with their lawyers. They demand the right to be able to hug their families, lest their children suffer the same fate as ten year old Areej Skafe who died as a result of being denied permission to hug her imprisoned father.

The world knows who Gilad Shalit is, The Most Important Prisoner in the Whole Wide World. The discrepancy is obvious from the western media’s portrayal of what this prisoner swap deal means SOLELY for Shalit, disregarding the occupied, the inferiors. They know his age, they’ve seen his pictures, and they are familiar with his parents. They have counted every tear his mother has shed. The thousand and twenty seven Palestinian prisoners are treated as a statistic, devoid of any meaning other than a number. They have parents too. Some lost their mothers or fathers while serving long years in prison and never got the chance to say goodbye. No Israeli life is worth more than a Palestinian’s. A campaign has started on Facebook titled “Prisoner of the Day.” Every day will be devoted to one Palestinian prisoner, personalizing his or her story, sharing pictures of them, messages from friends, past hobbies they enjoyed on social media sites. The first prisoner to be shared is Shadi al Shurafa, a 32 year old man from Jerusalem who was sentenced to twenty five years. He has served nine years so far. Shadi used to play on the basketball team of DeLaSalle. He’s a human being too. He wasn’t a soldier. Soldiers run the risk of being captured. Basketball players don’t.

The Battle of Hungry Stomachs will continue until all demands are met. How many Bobby Sands must we have before the world finally pays attention? Solidarity and Awareness are the key ingredients to any just cause.

*The title is a reference to a song by hip hop artist Lowkey, called 'My Soul.'

Mahmoud Abbas: the Second Coming

2011-09-26T23:24:00.001+03:00

One could be forgiven for thinking de facto President Mahmoud Abbas seemed like the second coming since Jesus of Nazareth not only by the reception he was given at the UN General Assembly when he spoke there on Friday but by the reaction throughout his speech from crowds amassed in West Bank cities.

Abbas’ speech, calling for admission of Palestine as a full member state of the United Nations, was surprising in that it was unusually strongly worded and lacked the usual skirting of core issues regarding the Israeli occupation of Palestine. Characteristically, Abbas’ public addresses to audiences reflect the interests of the Palestine Authority (PA) and not of the Palestinian people, highlighting the importance of negotiations with Israel to achieve any lasting peace agreement as the sole tactic, effectively undermining resistance in all of its forms to the occupying regime.

At the UN, Abbas used terms like “ethnic cleasning”,“al-Nakba”, “apartheid policies” and “racist annexation Wall”. To the short-sighted and the outsider, the speech was indeed befitting of being a historical platform to voice the issue of Palestine. It encapsulated the suffering the Palestinians have endured for 63 years, from the horrors of their ethnic cleansing in 1948 to the unbearable life under the continuous settlement building which aids the apartheid and racist policies that are inherent in every aspect of Palestinians’ lives.

The speech also mentioned Gaza, which is still suffering under siege and from air raids that account for extra-judicial killings. It was a perfect speech, succinctly and without being overly garrulous capturing Israel’s occupation of Palestine, and making Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s speech sound like the incessant whining of a spoiled kid.

Or was it? The stalwart speech certainly diverted some of the initial skeptical views on the PA’s bid for statehood. For the indifferent, it won their support, and for those opposed it either strengthened their opposition or cracked their resolve. Talk now isn’t about whether the UN bid for statehood is detrimental or beneficial; it has now come to optimistic discussions of what this bid could do for Palestinians.

The argument is now about how the “internationalization” of the Palestine/Israel conflict is a good thing because it is rarely that the world fixes its attention on this small country except when there is bloodshed and misery, and this attention can now be channeled into genuine support for an end to the Israeli occupation.

“A very good speech”

Issa Amro, the director of the Hebron based Youth Against Settlements, was animatedly expressing his approval of Abbas’ speech in between sips of mint tea.

“It was a very good speech,” he told me. “He [Abbas] didn’t leave anything out. He talked about the Nakba, the Naksa, the prisoners, the settlements…it was a speech that was comprehensive of what every Palestinian wanted to hear.”

I asked him about the reaction of the people who had gathered in Hebron’s city center to watch the speech on a large screen. Mainstream media focused their attention primarily on the reaction in Ramallah, where jubilant crowds were celebrating as if they had already been granted statehood.

“The mood was positive. You know, people in Hebron are mostly Hamas supporters, but they were smiling throughout the speech. Thousands of people were present, which is something very rare in Hebron since we barely have large protests or gatherings.”

I pointed out that the proposed statehood bid was based on the 1967 borders, and that partitioning the land wasn’t going to work in the interests of most Palestinians.

Amro looked at me solemnly. “Listen, you think we’re ever going to forget about Haifa and Yafa? Of course not! But first, we have to gather what we have and then work toward regaining the rest.”

A risky approach

Settling for a two-state solution, no matter how temporary, has drastic consequences. Under the title of “State,” Palestine can be attacked by Israel not as an occupied territory (which carries its own legal implications as the Geneva Convention clearly stipulates that the occupier must protect the occupied), but as an equal.

But this is all theoretical of course. The West Bank and Gaza will not be granted statehood as the US president, with re-elections on the horizion, vowed to veto it. In the midst of renewed blind faith in the bid, Palestinians have forgotten or simply ignored the question of the PA’s legitimacy in carrying out such an act.

Legal expert Professor Guy Goodwin clearly pointed out that the PA is a “subsidiary body meaning it cannot break away from the parent body [the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO)], assume greater powers, or establish itself independently from the PNC [Palestinian National Council]. It is only competent to carry out powers conferred to it by PNC.”

The PA’s control is restricted as it has “limited legislative and executive competence, territorial jurisdiction and limited personal jurisdiction over Palestinians not present in areas it is allocated accordingly.” The problem of representation, in which the six million Palestinian refugees in the diaspora could lose if the PLO, recognized and toted as the sole legitimate representative body for Palestinians everywhere (the diaspora, the 1967 occupied territories, the Palestinians living in the 1948 areas) wasn’t such a big deal anymore as Mahmoud Abbas graciously received standing ovations.

Abbas “never popular”

Mahmoud Abbas was never popular with the Palestinian people. Even before his presidency and during his tenure as Prime Minister, the late PA chairman Yassir Arafat was open about his suspicions of Abbas, accusing him of “betraying the interests of the Palestinian people.” Arafat’s associates added to the suspicions by pointing the finger at Abbas, saying he conspired with Israel to keep Arafat under siege in Ramallah during 2002.

It’s not just his lack of charisma either. Abbas never bothered to conceal his frank collaboration with Israel. Whether it was acquiring the services of the Israeli Shin Bet security forces to travel around the West Bank, or having previous knoweldge of and supporting Operation Cast Lead, or calling on Hamas to release Israeli soldier Gilad Shalit whilst neglecting to mention or at the very least equating Shalit with the eight thousand Palestinian prisoners languishing in Israeli jails.

Nor has Abbas been shy about coordinating security efforts with Israel under the guise of avoiding Palestinian confrontations which could end up in violence but which in reality serve the Israeli settlers’ interests more and simultaneously undermines unarmed popular resistance.

Most importantly there were the leaked Palestine Papers, which exposed the length Abbas and the rest of the unelected PA negotiating team were willing to concede the rights of the Palestinians, specifically the Right of Return, and the lands given away for the same “horrific picture of the settlement campaign” he articulated in his speech.

For all these reasons, the Palestinian street never thought much of Abbas where he paled in comparison with the inflated symbolism of Yassir Arafat. With his “historic speech” Abbas may satisfy himself with the knowledge that he has crept up the ladder of icons, cementing his legacy as the (autocrat) who laid the application for a Palestinian statehood at the UN’s feet.

The negotiations between the PA and Israel did not start last year in September. That was the timeline given in Abbas’ speech. No, the negotiations have been going on for almost two decades, and while it is nothing short of absurd for Israel and the Quartet, specifically the outraged US, to self-righteously lecture on, nay demand a return to negotiations as the only way to reach a peace settlement, they can rest assured that that it is what Abbas had in mind the whole time.

He wants to use the tactic of going to the UN as leverage that would put the ball in his court once he restarts negotiations, something he has promised to do over and over. Nelson Mandela once said that “only free men can negotiate” and these failed talks between the PA and Israel which have come at the expense of Palestinians and the increasing loss of their rights only give the illusion to the outside world that the relationship is between two partners, two equals, not the occupier and the occupied.

Enthusiasm without analysis

The supporters present at the Muqata’a compound in Ramallah today were bused in from the surrounding villages, most of which support Abbas’ Fatah faction, and other parts of the West Bank. They are lacking in knowledge of the implications and consequences of the PA’s UN bid for statehood, and have become desensitized to the situation on the ground which translates into a positive reaction at face value regarding the subject of Palestine receiving international attention.

This much was clear from my interviews with a number of people representing different aspects of society in Ramallah. They all wanted a state on the 1967 lines, “to be accepted as a country like the rest of the countries in the world”. When asked about the refugees from the 1948 areas (the parts of Palestine on which Israel was established in 1948), they reiterated that no state would be meaningful if the Right of Return was not implemented. When I pointed out this contradiction, most were confused.

Issa Amro indicated that the issue now is trusting the PA. Given its history of corruption and collaboration, this seemed a bit naïve. I believe in a one secular state for all, Muslims, Christians, and Jews. That however, is kryptonite to Zionism whose adherents sees the conflict not as a war or religions, as it slyly paints, but rather as battle of demography over geography.

A long way to go, but hope remains

Accepting the millions of refugees back into Palestine on a human rights approach would mean that the Israeli Jews would become a minority, and fuel the hysterical hasbara notion of “driving the Jews into the sea.” Yet we have a long way to go. The only Israelis who are not morally horrified by a one state solution where Palestinians are treated as equals and where none of this Jewish superiority based on Messianic revelations exists are the anarchists, those completely against the system.

Still, hope remains. The whole UN statehood drama could provide an opening for the Boycott, Divesment, and Sanctions movement to grow even more and become more popular, as it seeks to end Israel’s impunity and hold it accountable for all of its atrocities committed against the Palestinians ever since the months leading up to Israel’s independence.

It is a grassroots movement, similar to the one in Apartheid South Africa, and along with supporting the unarmed popular resistance, the steps for achieving peace, justice and equality in the country become even closer.

As published on Electronic Intifada

Blue Chair

2011-09-18T22:43:00.002+03:00

Palestinian song "Blue Chair" mocks PA’s UN statehood bid

A group of Palestinian youth activists who were sick of the western media protraying the Palestinians as a collective entity regarding the Palestinian Authority’s UN bid have produced a satirical video and song titled “Blue Chair”. In its simple sing-song lyrics, the video highlights sarcastically the fact that supporters of statehood have become obsessed with “magical” chairs rather than basic human rights. The lyrics, translated from Arabic, are below.

In one of the many Palestinian Authority (PA) campaigns to draw up support for UN membership, a mock Palestine UN chair was sent to travel around the world before reaching its final destination, naturally the United Nations building in New York. In the increasingly contested discourse about the PA’s bid for recognition of statehood, the symbolism the chair held won over many people as it carried with it the romanticized connotations of the world finally recognizing a Palestinian state.

Unfortunately, the same supporters fail to realize that this is basically just a PR stunt designed by the PA (who have forgotten the little scandal called the Palestine Papers and have vowed to resume negotiations with Israel) as the US will make good on its promise and veto such a request. Additionally, “statehood” is but a nonsensical diversion, drawing the attention of many to belittle the Palestinian cause — either knowingly or not — to a mere question: “Should Palestine be granted the right to statehood or not?”

A state on the 1967 borders is fruitless in that it cancels out the refugees’ right of return and impossible in that the land in the West Bank is not contiguous by virtue of the hundreds of illegal Israeli settlements and outposts. Furthermore, there are no specific “Arab only” roads or means that connect the West Bank to Gaza, which remains under siege. What is most sickening is the fact that the campaign carries the slogan “Palestine 194” signifying Palestine as the 194th member of the United Nations, while simultaneously abusing the number that holds so much significance for refugees as it is UN resolution 194 passed in 1948 that guarantees the Right of Return.

Compounded by the fact that the PA carries no legitimacy over the majority of the Palestinian people, in the diaspora and from within, the bid for statehood is nonrepresentative and fails to address the occupation directly, the crux of the whole conflict.

Translated lyrics:

The blue chair

This is the story of a magical blue chair… A blue chair that will
travel, soar and fly!
It comes in dark blue…and in white, Palestine, is drawn (2X)

This chair…is not just any chair (2X)
This chair is an extraordinary and magical kind!

This blue chair…can rise high
This blue chair…can achieve
It can a bring us a state
This chair is one magical blue chair!

This is the story of a magical blue chair…a blue chair that will
travel, soar and fly
It comes in dark blue…and in white, Palestine, is drawn
This Chair…is not just any Chair (2X)
This chair is an extraordinary and magical kind!

This blue chair… a chair for our refugees
This blue chair…will give us our “Right of Return”
This chair…will give us back Jerusalem and Palestine

This is the story of a magical blue chair…a blue chair that will
travel, soar and fly
It comes in dark blue…and in white, Palestine, is drawn
This Chair…is not just any Chair (2X)
This chair…is of an extraordinary kind

We’ve got our blue chair…with its own number too
An enemy to the settlements it serves

We are the Palestinians…with our magically dangerous blue chair
We are people…not like any other people
We are people… who have fallen in love with chairs!

Originally posted on Electronic Intifada

Settlers Write Racist Graffiti on BZU Walls

2011-09-09T19:49:00.001+03:00

On Friday morning around 2am, settlers made their way to up to Birzeit University and spray-painted racist slogans on the walls just outside the West Gate.

Below are the translated phrases under each picture, taken from the university's own Facebook page.

Jews: Let us win

Revenge

Ramat-migron, Revenge, Jewish underground

Wait for the revenge, murder.

Ramat migron, revenge is king, price tag, [a nasty word about the prophet Muhammad pbuh]

The miscreants also left their marks in the town of Birzeit, as they attacked and vandalized the main mosque with racist graffiti.

The university's website has condemned this "cowardly criminal" act. Students have questioned the presence of the university guards, but the guards reassured everyone that the culprits did not manage to get inside the campus itself, adding that the property remained untouched.

Having just got off the phone with one of the guards, it remains to be seen whether the culprits can be identified as settlers or not. The dean of the university has issued a gag order on the incident for the time being, meaning that all faculty members and employees within the university are not allowed to share any information they might have to avoid wild rumors from circulating. Whoever they are, they got into a single car and left the premises at around 2:30 am.

This act of vandalism has all the markings of a settler attack. It is is the latest in a series of upped settler antics anticipating the PA's nonsensical UN bid for statehood, after settlers torched a mosque in the village of Qusra near Nablus and attacked a faculty member of Bethlehem University with rocks while he was driving. A student from the same university was also attacked, and after escaping her car through the passenger door to appeal to the Israeli soldiers nearby for help, she was told to return back to her car. Today, settlers in Hebron attacked a family's tent and set it on fire, with the father still inside.

Israeli-American journalist Joseph Dana noted correctly, in light of a recent settler attack on the IOF's military base (which incidentally also had the words 'price tag' sprayed) that these transgressors are "one of the most dangerous and volatile elements on the ground" and that in order for the state of Israel to be taken seriously by the international community, it must curb its "rogue settlers." Yet the Israeli army only seeks to further fan the flames by training and equipping settlers with heavy duty weaponry in order to prepare them for any Palestinian protests that might turn 'violent', dubbing the move Operation Summer Seeds. It is no secret that settlers largely behave with impunity and have the assured protection of the Israeli Occupation Forces. Settlers are usually armed and harass neighboring villages, more often than not lands they've expropriated from the Palestinians, by setting olive groves and fields on fire or by physically assailing the villagers.

Not a word of condemnation either from Israel or its sycophantic brother the PA has been issued regarding these recent settler attacks. One thing is for certain though: these attacks will only increase throughout the month and with no accountability on the settlers' side, a simple 'heads-up' for the Palestinians simply won't do.

All settlements in the West Bank are illegal.
There are over 280,000 settlers in the West Bank (not counting East Jerusalem).
There are more than 180,000 settlers in East Jerusalem.
In total, that makes almost half a million settlers, a mammoth obstacle for any sustainable peace.

Crossing Borders

2011-09-07T23:53:00.002+03:00

My latest blog post for Electronic Intifada

I stared at the dull curtain in front of me. Moments later, a female Israeli security guard pulled the curtain back and entered the cubicle, drawing it to a close again. She had on plastic gloves and began patting me down, tapping my knees to stand more widely. She slipped her fingers through the top of the inside of my jeans, lest I should have anthrax rolled up in plastic baggies Velcroed there. She told me to take my shirt off. I stared at her, bewildered. She snapped her fingers impatiently. I slowly pulled off my sweater. Being winter, and despising heavy jackets, back then I was a firm believer in layers. I had another long-sleeved shirt on beneath.

“Ishlakhi bot.”

“I’m not taking my shoes off.” And it’s ishlahi you frosty robot, I silently added.

Her eyes bore into mine. “You’ll stay here forever if you don’t.”

I kicked off my Chucks, cursing Theodor Herzl and his ruinous ideology.

“Ishlakhi hijab.”

“No.”

She folded her arms and resumed her cold staring game with me.

“There’s nothing underneath my hijab, just my hair!” Which, thanks to whatever pollutants your government puts in the water allocated to Palestinians, is reducing it to a couple of strands. I pictured myself with only two strands on my head, like Homer Simpson, and giggled. Sighing, I unwrapped my hijab, thinking of this absolute unnecessary situation, and glared at the security agent. In less than half a second, she was out of the cubicle, taking my sweater, shoes, and whatever hidden security threats they so masterfully concealed. I wrapped my hijab back on without a mirror, quite a feat considering that every angle and crease had to be equal and smooth. After ten minutes of staring at my socks and picturing the day the state of Israel gets slapped with karma, the security agent came back in, handed me my stuff and vanished for a coffee break.

Gaza has the Rafah crossing, and the West Bank has the jisir. Our gateways to the indifferent world beyond. Two years ago the Israelis discovered that my father has a Gaza ID which meant that he cannot come back to the West Bank. For now he’s staying in Amman, and whenever we can, my family in Ramallah crosses borders (the Allenby bridge on the Israeli side, the King Hussein bridge on the Jordanian one) so we can indulge in a couple of weeks of family normalcy. Needless to say, I’ve crossed the border way too many times for my liking.

Back in the days when my family were united and living in Ramallah on visas, we would cross the Allenby Bridge as foreigners, taking a whole different route—straight from our house to the Israeli side of the crossing. Everything operated faster and smoother. The buses were immaculate and air-conditioned.

The brown Palestinian version is a lot longer and entails a good deal of patience, something I am not equipped with. The taxi can take you on two courses: Around Qalandiya checkpoint and a relatively level ride, or the mu’arrajat way, a perilous back roads journey along extremely narrow twisting roads just before you reach Jericho. Your survival depends on the driver’s skills and calmness. Had I been the one driving I would have shot the car Thelma-Louise style over the valley of caves and mountains, the setting of the world’s lowest point. Maybe that’s why I still don’t have my license…

Once you reach Jericho, you arrive at the Palestinian side of the border crossing. This merely serves as a prelude to the Israeli side, since they are the ones who actually control the border. If there are a lot of people, you wait in the resting/lounge room which has some of the filthiest seats I’ve ever seen. Most of the products behind the snack stall are Israeli. Two large framed posters of Yasser Arafat and Mahmoud Abbas, each striking a similar pose, smile deprecatingly at the travelers. The Palestinian officials behind the counter stamp your passport and you’re traveling without a matriarch, strike up a conversation. You get on the bus and wait for it to fill. It won’t move even if there’s only one seat empty. The bus then rumbles on to Jericho’s border, and waits for express permission from the Israeli side for the electric gate to open. Depending on the Israelis’ mood, it’s either a few minute wait or a couple of hours of twiddling your thumbs.

Once the gate finally opens, the bus is allowed to progress a few hundred meters before being stopped again. This time, the passengers get off the bus and line up pell-mell under a corrugated tin roof to pass through a security detector. It’s completely unnecessary, but it’s all done for the sake of Israel’s own well-being. The passengers board a different bus and providing that there aren’t any glitches, arrive at the Israeli side. Outside the building, you must pass through yet another security detector in the presence of an armed soldier wearing the coolest shades. Just inside the doorway, you must pass through yet again through another sensitive security detector, with purses, hand bags, shoes etc going through the x-ray machine. Once, the security officials opened a plastic black bag and found toy guns in there. They laughed gleefully to themselves, “Islakh! Islakh!” i.e. islah, weapons in Arabic. Afterwards, you line up in front of six counters, and wait until they return your stamped passport.

Time to get on the bus that will take you to the Jordanian side. Sometimes, the bus is not there and you have to wait. And wait some more. Once aboard, you finally cross the bridge over a spit of water that used to be the Jordan River. You get dropped off where the luggage is, and have to find your own bag, pay the fare, and get on another bus. Usually after that it’s smooth sailing. The Jordanians take the white form which you must fill out on the last bus ride, the green visiting card special to Palestinians, and your passport. Quick stamps here and there, and off you go, temporarily relieved from the many pictures of King Abdullah II’s face in various traditional and western clothes.

On the way back, a lot of waiting is done on the Jordanian side. The fly-infested lounge full of people isn’t so bad compared to the hours and hours of waiting on the bus for Israel to give us the go-ahead to cross over to its side. Once I waited for seven hours. Seven hours on a bus with absolutely nothing to do except envisioning the amount of pain I would have liked to wreaked upon the incompetent Palestinian parent behind me, whose five little monkeys were continuously kicking the back of my seat over and over again. Just before we cross the little bridge, we must once again get out and go through a security detector while an Israeli soldier walks up and down the aisle on the bus to check for anything remotely suspicious. Sometimes they have a dog with them. When you reach the Israeli side, you get your bags from the bus compartments and push your way to the front, where your luggage and passport will be taken from you. Once your passport is given back, you stand in land at another counter and get a sticker with four Hebrew letters on the back of your passport. Most people have the first Hebrew letter circled. Once I got the third letter circled, which I found out was code for “Random Person Search”, which is how I came to be staring at the dull curtain.

It’s not fun crossing the border. I feel like I age ten years every time which makes me nearly as old as Jesus. One of my worst memories was crossing the bridge last August in Ramadan on the hottest day of the year, complete with a broken down air conditioning system and people drenched in putrid sweat. It’s a bitter combination of being subjected to the immense failure of this generation’s Palestinian parenting and having to deal directly with the occupier, in a way that makes you feel like they’re doing you a huge favor by rendering their service to you and allowing you to pass through.

I treat the Israeli officials there like how I was once treated when I visited Yafa. I completely ignore them, answer monosyllabically, and think of them as invisible robots. Even when the Ethiopian Israeli there welcomes me with a cheery “Assalamu aleikoo!” I continue on my way forward without a second glance. It grated me that time when two middle-aged Palestinian women were genuinely laughing heartily with a security agent. The only time I had to actually talk to them is when my British passport was renewed. I already had my West Bank ID out by that time so of course the passport was useless in that I couldn’t get a visa, but I didn’t want them to stamp it thus officially declaring me to be allowed only in the Occupied Territories.

“Do you have another passport?”

I wondered why they bothered to ask, since the fact that I did was clearly in block letters blinking on their computer screens.

Stamp stamp stamp. There goes my chance of seeing Akka again. You never know with the soldiers at Qalandiya checkpoint, which ones scrutinize your foreign passport for the Israeli approved visa, or the ones who jovially try to guess the nationality of the passport before waving you through.

“Do you have another passport?” The second time I was asked that on a different occasion, I lied and said it was in my suitcase where they were in fact in my purse. Unfortunately for me, the Israeli official was a meanie.

“Give them to me,” she ordered.

“They’re in the other bag, let me pass and I’ll bring them to you.”

“YOU WILL NOT PASS UNLESS YOU HAND THEM OVER TO ME.”

My brother angrily stepped forward. “We don’t have them on us, you don’t need them anyway.”

The Israeli official stood up and brought her face close to the glass separating us.

“You stand back!” she barked. She called her supervisor, security agent, another official—God knows who, and they began conversing in Hebrew shooting us dark looks.

I pulled the passports from my bag and threw them under the glass. I wanted to go home and take a long hot shower and sleep. I wasn’t in the mood for petty confrontations. She accepted them with a knowing look, and after stamping them threw them back at me. It was cemented, multiple emblems decreeing our imprisonment in the riddled West Bank. My mother is smarter; she always tells them not to stamp her British passport in case she wants to visit a country that won’t accept Israeli markings.

“You know, like Syria for example.”

“Or Iran,” I muttered.

It shouldn’t be called the Israeli/Jordanian crossing. It should be called the Israeli crossing, period. They have all the control over who gets in and out, and coordinate with the Jordanian side accordingly. They have the power to shut down the crossing whenever they want purely based on a whim, as I discovered last summer after a failed attempt to get back to Ramallah. As with the rest of the checkpoints scattered throughout the Occupied Territories, humiliation is a requirement at the border crossing, with the Israelis never missing the chance to remind Palestinians just who exactly controls every aspect of their lives.

Palestine's Rollercoasters

2011-08-25T01:43:00.009+03:00

They're big, they're loud, and they're orange. They travel at the speed of light and are known to be suicide friendly vehicles. They strike fear in the hearts of first time drivers and are at the receiving end of a barrage of heavy verbal abuse.

They are...fords.

No Palestinian experience is complete without a life-threatening ride in one of those babies. The semantic history of the designated name is unknown, since they definitely do not bear semblance to any Ford model. Nevertheless, they are the great white sharks on the street, and if you thought that was a bad enough analogy get this: If Hitler was a car he'd be some clunky pick-up truck on a farm next to these venomous Bugattis.

Unless you're bequeathed your own personal car and laugh in the face of the perilous winding roads to Birzeit University, the fords are the only means of transportation. Since I live on the main street, I don't have to go to downtown Ramallah to the ford depot. Rather, I stick my finger out and wait for one to stop. On windy days, as my scarf flutters and my whiteness is laid out for all the world to see, I have no problem in flagging down a ford. For three years I have feared for my life twice a day going to and coming back from the university. They know no other language other than speed. The drivers have no qualms in driving on the wrong side of the road in a bid to reach their destination in the quickest time possible. They especially relish the challenge of facing off with a car coming up on its rightful side of the road, usually winning the challenge by making the other car veer off the road at the last second.

Last time that happened my friend screamed at the driver, "You have ten other people in the backseats whose lives you're responsible for- SLOW DOWN!!"

The reply was offhand and cool: "Don't worry, I have fifteen years of experience."

Some drivers act as if you're not there. Others steal covert looks at you in the mirror before inquiring about personal life, whether you're married or engaged or looking to settle down. Still others tell you their whole life story. One driver kept up a pleasant conversation with me and gave me a stack of business cards to pass out for his niece's new salon. Another driver began to tell me about his village and offered me a bunch of miskawi apricots. I was touched by his kindess, so I accepted politely. He then gave me half the bag to eat. When I went home that day, I relayed to my mother the driver's generosity.
"Inshallah you accepted the apricots?"
"Of course."
"Did...did you eat them?"
"Yes Ma, isn't that the next step to take after being offered food?"
"You ATE them?! Did I raise a fool? Are you out of your mind? Does your smartness only show itself in your studying? What if the apricots were sprayed with something? What if they weren't apricots at all? What if they were laced with drugs? That's it, I'm calling your father."

The drivers come in all shapes and sizes. Kids barely out of their teens, men with wizened faces, most of them smoking addicts. Some are oblivious to their passengers, viewing them simply as money generators, while others give you a sympathetic look as the floozy in front of you shuts the window on a sweltering day so that the breeze won't mess up her hair.

One time the ford I was in stopped to pick up an old man. He looked like a Bedouin, with his abaya and heavy accent. The old man lit up a cigarette and the ashes flew back right at me, getting in my clothes and bag. I sighed waspishly, and the driver caught my eye. He turned to the old man next to him.
"Uncle, you have to put put your cigarette. I'm sorry but that's the law."
"What law is this? I'm going to keep smoking."
"It's a new law, Uncle. We get fined if the police catch anyone smoking in the fords."
"Screw the laws. We don't even have a country and we're putting laws. Who the hell do we think we are?"
"All the same, please put out your cigarette.'
"No. You have your own opinions, I have mine. Who do you think you are telling me to throw my cigarette away? I just put it in my mouth, I'm not throwing it."
"You seem like a wise man, and I'm treating you like a father. Why won't you listen?"
"Stop the ford. I'm getting out here. At least no one will stop me on the street to tell me not to smoke."
"Good riddance," I piped.

The drivers will run over a bunch of people in order to be the first to reach a potential passenger. Another friend of mine climbed into one ford a few weeks ago. The driver in the ford in front of them got out and began arguing with the driver that my friend should have went into his ford. They bickered for a few more minutes, before the driver of the ford my friend went into turned the key in the ignition and started to drive off. The other driver held on to the window, refusing to let go, still arguing passionately, his feet dragging on the asphalt for a good two hundred meters before he finally gave up and let go. Fords cost around two hundred thousand shekels, it makes sense that customers must be rounded up by whatever means.

Almost two years ago, a new all important law was finally passed. Drivers and passengers alike had to wear their seatbelts. Naturally, this law at the beginning was largely ignored, but after hefty fines were imposed it was taken more seriously. The ford drivers only wear their seatbelts whenever a police car is on the road. As soon as they pass by the police, the drivers fling back their seatbelts as if they were straight-jackets. In some remote villages, little kids are taken for rides in the fords. There, without the protection of seatbelts and with the abundance of rocky unpaved roads, the kids have the time of their lives hitting their heads on the roof of the ford, getting thrown to one side, raising their arms screaming with delight as the ford whizzes down a hill. Who needs Six Flag's Superman when we have our very own fords?

The Recurring Let Down of Ramallah Protests

2011-08-20T02:56:00.002+03:00

I still haven’t learned how to stay away from a Ramallah protest, despite the detrimental irritating feeling disappointment that never fails to swell inside of me every time I attend one.

Ramadan started, and Bashar Al-Assad showed no sign of mercy as his murdering of Syrians did not let up. Combined with the two previous days, the numbers rose to over one hundred. A protest was needed here in Ramallah, if only to express our anger and horror at the Syrian dictator and solidarity with those suffering under the brutal killing machine regime.

As an oppressed people, we shouldn’t ignore the oppression of others. Other people seem to contend this point, believing that we as Palestinians already have a lot on our plate and don’t need to be involved in whatever shape or form in the affairs of other countries. That sounds exactly like the Palestinian Authority rhetoric, especially highlighted during Egypt’s January 25th revolution. In the most unlikely of all places given the humanitarian crisis gripping it, Gaza has dispelled this view as it actively involved in a campaign to raise money and aid for the starving refugees of Somalia.

Protests in Ramallah follow a certain agenda. They only happen with the full blessing of the PA, which inevitably means that the protests will get hijacked by Fateh thugs, the loudspeakers usurped with Fateh factional songs, and the yellow flags and memorabilia of Fateh will be waved in the air with furious gusto. Sometimes, it’s not that conspicuous. The protest, independently organized, will continue but if there are less than favorable chanting going on (read: calls for resistance) the police—plainclothes or otherwise—will move in to break it up. For the record, the plainclothes police aren’t the brightest light bulbs out there. You can always tell who they are because they stand at the peripheral edges of the crowd, and stare at you in a frank and unsettling manner.

A Facebook page materialized, announcing the Syrian solidarity march to be on Sunday the 14th. It was organized by something called the National Committee in Solidarity with the Arab Revolts, something I’ve never heard of. Searches proved to be fruitless, so I couldn’t tell whether this was independent from the PA or not. Nevertheless, I took my sister and we walked after iftar, deliberately ignoring all the other previous wasted protests we attended.

As we headed toward the Manara Square, Ramallah’s obtrusive schizophrenia tugged at all of my senses. Families, mostly women, were walking in a bid to healthily digest the iftar feast they must have consumed so readily. Young men were walking in couples, making me skirt their outstretched hands lest they “accidentally” brush against mine. Yellow-licensed (Israeli) cars revved their big engines, while the white-licensed cars (Palestinian) blasted their English and Arabic pop music in an attempt to drown out the engines. Lights were strewn all over stores, and a vendor seller shoved three plastic hairbrushes in our faces, before moving on to his next target. Weaving between the cars and the people on the disregarded sidewalks were men selling Barcelona/Real Madrid flags, keeping up a running commentary of only two words: “Barsha, Real, Barsha, Real, Barsha, Real.” It was the first leg of the Supercopa big between the two teams.

The Syrian solidarity protest was moving away from the square and down Rukab Street. I learned a long time ago not to spare a thought for how many were attending, since it was always going to be disappointing. The protesters were mainly from the villages. The ones leading the chants were from Nabi Saleh. We probably numbered around three hundred, a painfully low figure. My sister and I threaded our way to the middle of the chanting group and joined in. Chants against Bashar al-Assad and his cowardice, and his need to fix his lisp grew stronger. Only Palestinian and Syrian flags were waved. During that hour and a half, no one tried to take over the protest with their own factional party nonsense. I was aware of the other people, those who stood on the pavement and watched us pass, like we were a Macy’s Thanksgiving parade on show. Did it occur to them to join in, to protest the killings of thousands of innocent lives? Or were we part of an unscheduled Ramadan festivity?

Protests are all about catharsis. Unless they generate a huge amount of people, it is naïve to think that demonstrating will actually influence the decision making of those in authority. We were helpless, watching the Syrians getting murdered on the streets, wishing we could aid them in any way. For me at least, protesting does not in any way make me feel like I had accomplished something, nor does it content me. It loosens the tightened knot in my heart a bit, mostly at the relief that officially Ramallah is in solidarity with Syria and that the protest was allowed to happen without any hindrances, but in no way is my state of mind placated.

Thursday came around and brought with it news of a three-pronged attack on Eilat, where the casualties were mostly IDF soldiers. Despite having no factual evidence that the assailants came from Gaza, and despite Hamas and the Popular Resistance Committee denying any involvement, Israeli Defense Minister Ehud Barack announced that the source of this terror attack came from Gaza and that they would retaliate accordingly. How can a retaliation be carried out if the source of the original provocation is not yet specified? That didn’t stop Israel from killing five Palestinians in Rafah, among them a two year old boy. As the attacks started to intensify after midnight, I stayed up, checking on my family there from time to time. North Gaza and Rafah in the south were bombarded, as well as Ansar compound and a training ground for resistance fighters in the area of Khuza’a in Khan Younis. There was no chance for my family going to sleep, and the children were once again huddled in one room next to each other, the older ones muttering prayers mixed with curses. By the end of the night, the total number of thos killed were seven, two of them children. How ironic that Israel did not foresee the attack on Eilat, but immediately had confidential precise information where the assailants had come from. How ironic indeed, and what a way to end the laughable apolitical social justice revolution in Israel.

A protest in solidarity with Gaza was quickly organized on Friday. I hoped that the people planning to attend weren’t coming just because of the seven martyrs killed on Thursday. Our memories must extend further than that. On Wednesday a seventeen year old boy was executed, his chest and riddle riddled with bullet holes. His name was Sa’d Al-Majdalawi. This year alone, one hundred and forty three martyrs have been killed by Israel. I was glad something was being done, because it’s been something of a norm for Ramallah, being the bubble it is, to ignore any news that has to do with Gaza. We don’t need another hundred people to be dead until we start thinking about calling for a protest.

The last time a protest for Gaza was held in Ramallah was in January 2009, during Israel’s savage and ruthless invasion of the Strip. On that Friday, I lay in my bed curled up in a ball, wide awake in a state of numbing fear for my family in Gaza. My mother and older brother went. They came back a few hours later, stunned and ashen-faced, reeking of tear gas, and beaten up. The PA has bussed in brainwashed fools from the northern West Bank in addition to its own security forces to deliberately instigate and then attack the crowds who had gathered for Gaza. They held up framed pictures of Mahmoud Abbas and Hosni Mubarak, highlighting the collusion between the two figureheads in contributing to the siege on Gaza, and sang Fateh songs before descending down on the women, men, and young children where they proceeded to assault them viciously.

At the Manara, around fifty people had shown up. In the middle, a group of people were singing nationalistic songs like they were performing onstage. Chanting started sporadically, but people were more eager to sing. Meanwhile, my friend received a text that two more were killed in the Bureij camp. In Ramallah the singing continued. I was recoiling on the inside. It was completely disrespectful. I looked behind me and desperately wanted to laugh at the identical postures of my mother and sister, with their arms crossed and deep scowls etched into their faces. That this protest was organized on such a short notice is no excuse (another protest is set for this Sunday the 22nd). The names of the martyrs should have been up somewhere. A silent candlelit vigil would have been more deferential to the memories of the seven killed in Gaza, not this cringe-worthy festive atmosphere. The men in the middle were now jumping up and down, still singing. As the song died out, one of them yelled, “We want a state in September!” The senseless sheep around him repeated what he said. My friend, sister and I all responded at the same time more than once, “We do NOT want a state in September!” The sheep didn’t know who to repeat after. I was close to throwing up my innards. One of the singing men grabbed the flag from my hand which was handed to me by someone and said, “Ok, we’re done now.”

The sheep dispersed, and my mother shrilly said that it was shameful for us to even say we were at a solidarity protest for Gaza. She and my sister decided to meet my aunt somewhere, so I walked home alone, my feet pounding the pavement, seething the whole time.

Elmaz Abinader Interview

2011-08-11T16:18:00.005+03:00

Published by the IMEU .

I had glimpsed Elmaz Abinader a couple of times during my visit to the building in Birzeit that the Palestine Writing Workshop and Palfest jointly share. Her dark curly hair moved enthusiastically as she spoke to her students around the makeshift table in the next room, fitting the lively astute character that one gets an impression from her blog posts on the Red Room online community website. Although Elmaz was born into a Lebanese family, she lived in the US her whole life. Most of her work (Children of the Roojme, a Family’s Journey from Lebanon, In the Country of my Dreams) centers on Arabs or Arab-Americans coping and dealing with antagonistic measures present in their daily lives. It was interesting to see where this particular theme fit within her experience of teaching for the first time in the occupied West Bank, and her perspective on the role of creative writing in Palestine.

You’re involved with VONA (Voices of Our Nations Arts Foundation). Explain a bit about how the event pans out.
It happens every year, on the campus of Berkeley, and always the last week of June/first week of July. I was actually one of the founders. People have to apply for it. The workshops run for about two weeks, and each week is different. We have very famous writers of color teaching, and about five hundred people apply every year. We accept around one hundred and twenty applicants. Some of them stay in residency where we have it, and they work on their writing for the entire week with a master teacher. We do a big reading at the end. Yeah it’s very special.

What are the tips or advice that you found most helpful?
What happens in the standard American society is that people of color become exoticized. Some people look at their themes, their topics and their stories and think “oh how unusual, how different.” So the actual work on their writing never gets done. This kind of perspective gets in the way. So at VONA we say “ok, we’re all writers of color and we all have these special types of stories, now let’s get to working.” So it gives them a better opportunity to get the development in their writing.

Have you ever travelled to a different country to teach a workshop?
I taught at Egypt for one year [as a Fulbright scholar]. I had a wonderful time there. I’ve mostly taken my performances out of the country. People get in touch with me that way and learn about me through their questions. I spend a lot of time talking to journalists, teachers, radio and television people.

Has there been a particular environment that you found difficult to teach in?
There are different ways that environments can be good and different ways that they can be difficult. For instance in Egypt, it was difficult because students were oriented to tests. So the idea of a classroom discussion, the idea of free thinking, was very hard for them to grasp. I would tell them a story about my life and they’d ask if that was going to be on the test. On the other hand, they were so enthusiastic and open. They were also very easy to teach. Everything has a particular kind of challenge and a particular kind of advantage.

Have you ever worked with disadvantaged youth or minorities?
I don’t really work with youth that much. I mostly work with university students, adults about creative writing and the theories of teaching creative writing. I teach people so that they can in turn teach or work. My university is located in a town called Oakland which is a very integrated place, and I have a project there. Many of the people of color there are not serviced well (the public school system is not that great), so my graduate students go out to the different populations in the city and offer them writing workshops.

Where did you hear about the Palestine Writing Wprkshop? Explain how your workshop- the Writer Cultivator training worked.
[Palestinian-American poet] Suheir Hammad connected me with [the founder], and it went from there. [For the training] we had three different parts to it. One part was I approached the students as writers. I did exercises and activities that showed different approaches to pulling their writing out of them, (even though they are all well-known published writers here in Palestine) yet there’s always another way to go about your writing. And then I approached them as teachers, and I asked them how they planned on going to a population of a particular age they’ve never met before and teach them how to do creative writing, and what they can find inside themselves that makes them good teachers. The final part the students went to teach at four different refugee camps – Jalazon, Qalandiya, Qaddoura, and the Am’ari. Then they would come back to report to me and we would analyze the way their classes went, how they can prepare for their next class, what the sequence of classes needs to be, etc. Their students (the refugee girls) are going to have a celebration at Sakakini Cultural Center, a big reading on July 30th. I’m not going to be here!

There’s a lot of talk about creative economy. How sustainable do you think that will be, particularly in its creative writing form here in Palestine?
I think the possibility is huge, but the steps are going to be small. First of all, you have a very strong literary community. There are key literary figures like Walid Abu-Bakr and venues like the Sakakini Center. The key figures are the strong pillars of the literary community here, and they recognize this need, along with the Palestine Writing Workshop’s philosophy and mission, to create this need. I think you’re going to get a lot of writers and you’re going to get a lot of classes, but the transition to getting publishers and editors is going to be the difficult part. You can send foreigners in here to teach, but you have to create your own publishing industry, it has to be interior money. The job will be to make it so spectacular that people can’t ignore it, like the music scene here, and then when people can’t ignore it they’d want a piece of it.

Are you aware of any writing communities here in Ramallah/West Bank?

Other than PWW and Palfest? No, I just met individual writers and they all seemed to know each other. On Wednesdays we have our classes at La Vie. Last week it was over at 4pm, and my students hung around, they didn’t leave. I left, but they went into the garden and started doing writing exercises with each other. It was so nice. They took advantage of the moment of being together –there were six of them here—and when I came back someone told me that the last student just left. People are hungry for that establishment of community. I have that back at home, where I have five people come over, and we sit and write, then break for lunch, then go back to working on our stuff.

Do you think that writing especially in oppressed societies is used as an outlet to escape one’s reality or as a platform to convey to others what they endure on a daily basis?
One of the things that literature can do is all of those things, but it is better, for me at least, if they do it through narrative and poetic forms. For instance, I know more about World War One from good stories I’ve read and films I’ve seen. When you see peoples’ lives inside a political situation and they tell a story, whether it be a love story or a story about their garden, everything has got to do with how often they’re going to see their lover or how much water their garden needs respectively. In this way literature actually corrects history by bringing it to the people level off of the government level. One problem with getting Palestinian literature outside of Palestine is that you need a range of voices, not just one person or a character that people come to rely on as representing the story of Palestine. We need a variety of voices, for them to be complex and complicated and not always about the political situation, but about everything such as whatever people are dreaming about. I learned the most about Palestinian literature by talking to Walid [Abubakr]. He gave me a really good perspective on who the uppercomers are, and the dearth of writers of the last generation.

What has been the most striking aspect of your current crop of students?
They’re very smart. One of the things I always say in my teaching world is as soon as I stop learning from teaching I will stop teaching. These writers are so creative and so smart and even though they needed some guidance on how to teach, as soon as the door was opened they just took off. They’re also so sweet, offering to take me places on my first day here. I feel like I’ve made friends even though I’m a hundred years older than everybody.

How important is the potential in creative writing in society under occupation?
I think it’s where the most potential is. In the mainstream societies they’ve written themselves into a corner. I feel like I’m reading the same crap over and over. One of the things I’ve fantasized about was creative writing teaching articles, and teachers and creative writers throughout the world would show for example how a story from Palestine and a story from Sri Lanka can have a dialogue in a classroom. Because we have online capabilities, we can go global. There’s a kind of democracy to it that the publishing industry never had, which also means that the crazies can get through [laughs].

Your upcoming memoir The Water Cycle deals with the shaky concept of identity and cultural relationships. Did you feel as a child/teenager that you had to compromise a part of you in order to fit in? Or was it mainly confusion?
My whole childhood. My family lived in a town where there were no other people of color. The pressure to be part of the society, to look like part of the society, act like part of the society, to hide things about our home life was enormous. It was that time in American history where people were ‘assimilationists’, and so my name was changed when I went to school to Alma-Ann, I was dyed blond for a wedding, there were all kinds of pressure. But of course the more you push something the more it pushes back. My Arab ties would be stronger if I spoke Arabic, but I believe that I feel as much part of the Arab diasporic literary community as I do in the American literary community.

What has been the best thing you’ve learned from your students so far?
The best thing I’ve learned from my students is that you can write under any conditions. One of my students was teaching at the Sakakini Center. Her family arrives, she picks up her baby, and she continues teaching. There’s a hunger to be heard.
Writers in the US including myself are always saying I don’t have time I don’t have the space I need to be spoiled but people here have to go through checkpoints, and wait for all kinds of crap before they get to sit down and do their writing.

Gaza Blackout

2011-08-10T18:52:00.005+03:00

When I finally got home yesterday it was already around 1 am. After having iftaar at a great aunt's house, we then went to another aunt's house to welcome back her son from the ghurbeh-six years spent studying in Russia. I was dying for internet access. I've become somewhat of an addict, and for some reason the internet in my aunt's home wouldn't work on my laptop. The hours spent drinking tea and coffee and eating qatayif were a bit marred by the black looks I was shooting my mother. Yallah Ma are we planning on sleeping over?

I had planned on cobbling another informal post about the second PalTweetUp meeting. Instead, news across Twitter quickly spread about a mass communications cut in the Gaza strip, entering its seventh hour. My heart dropped somewhere between my toes. The first thought I had was "Ground Invasion. Air Raids. Naval Attacks." In short, another Operation Cast Lead.

Less than three years ago, my family in Ramallah were gripped by frustration, helplessness, and total despair. My father's family in Gaza were witnessing firsthand Israel's murderous onslaught that lasted for twenty two days, and all I could offer them was a watery phone call imploring them, rather stupidly, to stay safe. I'd start off with false cheeriness before my voice would break, the tears gushing down my face. If half the Samouni family were wiped out, who's to say my family won't be next? My uncles and their wives over the phone would be doing what I was supposed to be doing to them, comforting me, trying to downplay the risks and their suffering: "We're fine, the explosions are only shaking the building. Of course the children are terrified, but that means that we're all sleeping together, good for staying warm. Chin up Linah."

Quickly, news came in that the mass cuts were caused by Israeli bulldozers that destroyed a fiber-optic cable near the border, thus severing land lines, the internet, and cell phone connectivity. That didn't stop me from calling my uncles though. I tried both their land lines and their cell phones, over and over again. I tried to stop myself from overreacting. Why else would there be a massive communication breakdown? It's not a mistake. Mistakes on this large scale don't last for eight hours now. I pushed images of ground troops stealthily infiltrating Gaza from my mind. It was a scary notion, a cruel fact that Gaza was completely isolated from the whole world.

The only other explanation was an oversimplified one, that it was just a technical problem. That still doesn't deter from the real issue at hand: Gaza is still being effectively occupied. Israel controls all border crossings, including the Rafah border, and has the power to turn on and off the electricity that 1.7 million people depend on. It supplies water, and also can cut that off whenever it feels like it. For Gaza to become a black hole for those hours was a terrifying concept to grasp because no one know what was going on. Yasmeen Elkhoudary, probably the only one tweeting -- albeit from a shaky connection -- from Gaza via her Blackberry, provided information that land lines were working, and that to the best of her knowledge, there were no air strikes or anything of that kind.

My finger was still pushing the redial button religiously. Sixty miles separate Ramallah from Gaza, but it seemed like sixty thousand miles. Around 2:40 am, my uncle Mohammad from Tal il Hawa district picked up. I screamed, "'Amo!"

"Ahlain, ya 'ami. How are you?"

He sounded groggy. It suddenly dawned on me that I might have woken him up.

"Don't worry about it," he yawned. "I have to get up for su7oor anyway."

"What's going on? Why are all the telephone lines down? What's happening?"

"The land lines work."

"No, I think they only work within Gaza itself. Because I called you and Amo Mahmoud and Amta Najat and all I get is a busy signal."

"Yeah well..we don't really know what's going on. No one knows the reason for the power cuts. We've heard something about Israeli bulldozers digging too far and hitting a few cable lines, but that's about it. I'm surprised you managed to get through to me. You're probably roaming on the Orange network."

"Are you safe? Do you hear any drones? Missiles? Any news of anyone killed?"

"We're fine. The sky is quiet tonight. Nothing's happening on the ground. People got bored because of no electricity and went to sleep early."

"Are you sure there's nothing?"

"Yes habibti. Go to sleep."

"What time do you go to work? I'll call you then."

I tried my other uncle's cell phone. It was turned off. Relief flooded through my body. Nothing is happening, yet. A couple of hours later I finally crashed.

I woke up at 9am and immediately called Mohammad. He picked up and said something before the line disconnected. I swore under my breath as I realized my phone's battery died. Half an hour later there were confirmed reports that the communication lines were working again. The night had passed smoothly, relatively speaking. I called my uncle again at 2:45pm. He had went home because there was no work in the bank without the internet. People are still bewildered. He told me Jawwal's service connection was back on fifteen minutes earlier, not at 9:30am as some initially reported. I suppose it depended on the different districts and areas. A fifteen hour blackout is no different from a twenty hour blackout. He hadn't heard anything, not even rumors. I called my other uncle a few hours later. I heard waves crashing in the background. He was standing on a hill in Khan Younis overlooking the sea. He seemed convinced that what happened was just a technical problem, but the cynic in me won't shake off the feeling that there must be an ulterior motive on Israel's part.

The psychological warfare inflicted was just another used tactic of Israel's. My family and Gaza were safe, for now.

Throwing Rocks

2011-08-04T18:00:00.009+03:00

Published at Electronic Intifada.

I had denied it for too long now, but for a Palestinian, my rock throwing is shockingly abysmal.

On one of the Fridays I spent in Nabi Saleh, I had grumbled out loud at this particular incompetence of mine, and I suddenly found myself surrounded by eager teachers.

It was the Friday of the flotilla model. That day was mostly spent indoors as after the first couple of hours of the protest, the Israeli army aimed and fired tear gas at whoever so much poked their heads out the door.

During the late afternoon the jeeps made signs that they were leaving, and I jumped at the chance of being outside again. Along with two other girls, we casually sauntered forward until we reached the jeeps and stood next to Nariman Tamimi and her video camera, where other village children joined us. The other activists tried venturing out but because they were a larger number they were promptly shot at. From the rooftops, others started cursing the soldiers in a humorous way, and they also got fired at. One of the tear gas canisters rolled back toward the soldier who fired it and he had to scramble comically out of the way which made us all whoop and cheer, the younger children laughing openly. The soldier stomped menacingly to our group, his pride hurting, his eyes flashing angrily and threw a sound bomb at us. We scarpered.

The village was surrounded by soldiers. The hills were crawling with them, the orchards teeming. As we watched one troop making its way down from behind the olive trees, we didn’t bother to conceal the condescension on our faces. One soldier raised his hand in farewell. My throat constricted with a thousand incendiary words to say at this supposedly friendly gesture. The girl’s face next to me mirrored my own: dangerously narrowed eyes that almost made us look cross-eyed.

One by one, the jeeps took off. The hail of stones raining down on them began, with whistles and cheering whenever a rock made contact with the armored vehicles. The infectious excitement made me pick up a rock, throw it, and then swiftly I buried my head in the ground as the rock traveled heavily in the air for a couple of meters before dropping dully. Next to me, a kid half my size threw his rock and narrowly missed the end of the jeep, which was now about two hundred meters away.

There are two basic lessons: How to Hold a Rock, and How to Throw a Rock. The village was now empty of the occupying force, the street littered with sound bombs and canisters. My lesson took place across from a small empty lot with the sun dipping in the background.

“This is how you hold a rock,” said one of the shabab. “No, not like that, like this. Ok, you’re doing it wrong. No, look at my fingers! Imagine your thumb and forefinger as a pair of tweezers. Hold them up like this. The rock should fit comfortably.” He gave up on his theoretical talk, grabbed my fingers, and molded them into the correct shape.

One kid tapped my arm. “Let the rock rest against your middle finger. That’s it, you got it.”
“Now stretch your arm out, away from your body,” the same shab continued. “No, not like a stick figure. Bend your elbow slightly. Move your arm backwards a little. When you throw, don’t let your shoulder move. The rock travels longer based on the follow through movement of your arm. Ok, throw.”

I threw. The rock felt lighter as it whizzed through the air. I yelled out in joy. “Did you see that!”
My teachers nodded absentmindedly, and threw their rocks. The distance covered was still longer than mine.

“Ok good, but you need to refine your technique a bit more. Try again. Wait, remember to keep this finger like that, ok throw again – WAIT, what are you doing, aiming for the driver? Let the car pass before you start. Now watch out for the kids – HEY!” he yelled out good-naturedly, “Get out of the way!”

I threw again, a broad smile breaking out across my face. I knew better than to say I don’t throw like a girl anymore – one of the last classes I took at university was Women Studies which had a lasting effect on me. The kids showed just how good they are with rocks to a patently easily amused me, eager to offer me tips regarding size and target.

Earlier that day, as activists were cooped up in Bilal and Manal Tamimi’s house, one Israeli activist, a first-timer here, was standing in the middle of the room drawing attention to himself as he loudly asserted that throwing rocks automatically cancelled out a “non-violent protest.” Another activist was arguing with him, pointing out that the rocks were barely the source of bodily harm, but to me they were missing the point completely.

One of the Tamimi men was leaning against the wall on a mattress, staring at the Israeli with scornful displeasure. “As long as the soldiers are here, as long as our land is being encroached upon, as long as their jeeps take over our village, and as long as they continue to fire tear gas, our shabab won’t stop throwing rocks,” he declared.

“Fine, but you can’t call it a non-violent protest,” the Israeli countered. He looked warily around the room. “Look, I realize most of you don’t agree with me, but in my opinion a non-violent protest shouldn’t engage in any tactics of violence, and to me throwing stones is an act of violence.”
“An act of violence!” the other activist almost sneered. “In response to what, the tear gas fired? The live ammunition sometimes used? The storming of houses and the subsequent arrests and beatings? You can’t equate the tactics of the Israeli army to rock-”
“I’m not equating them! Definitely I’m not! But to me, a non-violent protest-”
“Listen,” I interjected. “This is the first mistake you’re making. Don’t say ‘non-violent’; the more correct term is ‘unarmed’. ”

The Israeli first-timer has obviously fallen victim to the western discourse that dictates what the appropriate way for Palestinians to resist is. It seems more apparent that for the west, the term ‘non-violent’ protest would mean that one should retreat meekly in the face of aggression once chanting, singing, and sticking flowers into the barrel ends of guns result in exacerbated aggression on the Israeli army’s part. There are all sorts of implications that come with that term, and it is important not to be ensnared by the western mindset. Definitions should come with context.

Last month Ibrahim Shikaki wrote an excellent and highly important article on Palestinian resistance, pointing out that media coverage shapes Palestinian resistance in the western narrative of non-violence, as well as refuting the western imposition of just how Palestinians should resist.

“The fact is, facing a brutal war machine with stones is but a symbolic gesture. It is a symbol of the vast discrepancy in power between the Palestinian people and Israel's war machine.
Stones aimed at Israeli tanks or other armed vehicles were a means for the unarmed indigenous people of Palestine to demonstrate their refusal of occupation and oppression. Youth, women, the elderly and all sectors of society participated in this form of resistance.”

So where does the history of rock throwing, the action that captured the hearts of millions around the world during its foray in the first intifada and inspired other people, like the new generation of Kashmiris, come from? Bassem Tamimi explained that rocks were traditionally thrown to warn or frighten off bears or snakes.

“When a soldier comes into our village and shoots tear gas we won’t just sit there like a victim. They are protected from live bullets so we’re clearly not trying to take a life. With stones we are simply saying, ‘We don’t accept you here as an occupier. We don’t welcome you as a conqueror.’”

It is for this reason that to even consider throwing rocks as a violent act is absurd. The message is very clear; rocks are thrown at the enemy as a way of expounding the Palestinians’ disapproval of a foreign occupying entity from intruding and expropriating their lands and homes. At the risk of insulting their intelligence and losing their respect at such a dim question, I asked a few Nabi Saleh children why they throw rocks. Simple: we don’t want the army here. This is our village. They are occupying us. The Israeli hasbara machine excelled in depicting the Israeli army, with their Merkava tanks, F-16 missiles, Uzi submachine guns, assault rifles, rubber coated metal bullets, etc as the true victims while painting the Palestinian youth, armed with rocks, as a disturbing image of bloodthirsty emotional Jew-hating Arabs who loathe the white man’s economic, social, and political accomplishments.

The David versus Goliath analogy is lost on those well-meaning "non-violent" folks. Truth to be told, the literal Arabic translation of "non-violent" isn't used widely. We use "muthahara silmiya/ مظاهرة سلمية" which means "peaceful protest". It is especially cringe-worthy to remember how I used to look down on those who threw rocks in Bil'in and Nil'in, something I now attribute to my ignorance and inexperience. I used to think, victim to the the propaganda western media outlets emitted, that throwing rocks was a thing of the past, and that we needed new ways to resist, not quite the Ghandi way but something along those lines. Thank God for Nabi Saleh.

Recently, someone told me the story of how Spiderman of that village, little four year old Samer, had succeeded in breaking off a rear-view mirror of one of the Israeli jeeps with his rock. Spiderman picked up his prized possession, and wouldn't let go of it. He probably slept with it next to him. This isn't a case of young children being taught to hate Jews and therefore grow up to be suicide bombers. It's a case of a young child who is forced to deal with the presence of his brutal occupier in his village.

I picked up another rock, positioning it in my right hand. My teachers looked on approvingly. "When you go home, line up everything you own on a shelf and start knocking them over with a rock," they told me, grinning. "Give it a week and you'll be a pro."

#PalTweetUp

2011-07-23T22:38:00.008+03:00

There are Palestinians living in Palestine who are using Twitter not just to tell the world what they had for breakfast, but also for the potential to disseminate information that could as Joseph Dana said, cut through the lies and narrative control of the western media.

Today's meeting was hatched from the brains of two fellow tweeps, who wanted a space where everyone can finally meet face to face, translating a virtual network into a solid one. I was at the beginning a bit skeptical (did we really have to meet? what if we work better alone than together?) but that was my rays of optimism at work as usual.

In the build-up to the meeting, there was a lot of excitement. We were going to Skype with our brethren in Gaza, and since it's been so long since we've last seen a Gazan we were breathless with anticipation. Would they look like us? Have normal human features? Would they be malnourished and exceedingly thin? Would their accents be as bad as the Yankee twang?

An hour before the scheduled time, I reminded my mother where I was going. She looked at me in disbelief, then accused me of not telling her before. We argued for a bit-apparently after I'd graduated I've been going out way too many times-before she finally asked what we were going to do. I casually mentioned Joseph Dana's name and she shook her head, saying "Whenever a foreigner comes to talk you all get excited, that's what's wrong with this activism thing. They laugh at you and you all lap it up. God I can't wait until your dad is finally allowed back in here."

I should've mentioned to her that Joseph is an American-Israeli. I would have loved to hear her thoughts on that. I was also slightly miffed. She calls me a ghooleh then laments my supposed naivete. Just because I'm the whitest thing in Palestine doesn't mean...

Anyway, I was left with one last chore to do before I finally headed out. When I arrived at Bazinga I was struck by the colorful beanbags on the floor, and tried to mentally match up faces with Twitter names. Someone did the right thing and just asked out loud our names. The next 15 minutes or so were spent trying to connect with the aliens in Gaza, and even then the audio-video quality was choppy.

"Hello can you hear us?"

"Yes habibi. Can you see us?"

"Yep, can you see us?"

"No not really..looks like you're all too far away."

They were sitting at a table in Delice cafe. We were spread out across a room, slouched onto beanbags. They looked eerily just like us. In fact, one of them could challenge me for the whitest thing in Palestine title. We didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

Finally, a stable enough connection was established. We began doing the introduction rounds. Mine was terribly boring, completely forgot to mention I was also from Gaza and had trained an army of cousins there to do my bidding last time I was there. Then that infiltrator Joseph Dana got up to talk about his flotilla experience on the American ship The Audacity of Hope:

Basically the flotilla was successful on the level that showed how important a role social media can play.
He was surrounded by old mostly Jewish women on the boat-not to belittle their endeavors or anything but to highlight the hilarity of Israel's hysterical hyperbole of the boat being part of a major security threat to Israel
A complaint was filed, later known to be from an Israeli legal center in Athens about the boat not being sea-worthy
His opinion is that they should have sailed within the same hour they got wind of the complaint
The crew and passengers were sitting in their hotel rooms talking incessantly of when they were going to set sail
When they finally did, it was a demonstration of "hippie language on steroids" on the deck, a lot of hugging, excess emotion that got annoying for a while

Then the discussion fell about as to how to use Twitter wisely. A lot of strategic thinking needs to go into how to use Twitter because ultimately it's all about getting the best message through to most people. So we must reign in our moral righteousness and reserve using terms like "Apartheid" or "IOF" when talking about Israel as we would be largely written off as jihadists, peace-hating Ayrabs, terrorists, etc. Less is more. If we use simple neutral words to describe Israel in the same sentence that mention house evictions in Sheikh Jarrah or the invisible ethnic cleansing taking place in the Jordan Valley, the discrepancy will be all the more obvious.

Then it was the Gaza tweeps to offer us something. Unfortunately they were too shy to sing GYBO's latest song The Mystery/اللغز but they did propose to lip-sync along while the link played. The organizers of this tweet-up got in touch with Bilal Tamimi, one of the main documenters in the village, and asked him if he could make a compilation video of the protests in Nabi Saleh. As the familiar faces of the villagers flickered across the screen I felt so honored to know them personally, for them to have taken me in so readily, as their own sister and daughter and friend. It was set to the soundtrack of my childhood, يا نبض الضفة which along with the song Onadikom never fails to get me at least a little emotional. The first song has the story of Lina Nabulsi, the 14 year old schoolgirl who was shot back in 1976 as one of its refrain, and my nine year old egotistical self in a weird twisted way believed that song was made in my honor.

The audio-video connection became more shaky, and in the middle of discussing the need for an independent news website (later to be turned romantically into a newspaper) the connection was lost, most likely because the electricity went out in Gaza. I would have loved for those tweeps to have pitched in with their ideas and opinions but plans are already being made for next time to accomplish some proper and much needed interaction and conversations. Here in Ramallah, we are wondering why in Gaza the youth don't criticize Hamas more, either viciously or in matter of fact way.

Anyway, everyone agreed that the idea of a representative media forum is imperative, especially since Palestinian media is rubbish and to put it quite nicely, we have serious reservations about Ma'an News Agency, both English and Arabic. The brainstorming began: correspondences from the West Bank, Gaza, '48 areas, the diaspora ("sorry for the divisions!"), the issue of internet security, the whole not-everyone-who-blogs-can-write-newsworthy-pieces colloquy, the content, the web design, etc.

Overall, it was simply refreshing to be in the presence of honest, smart, intelligent people with no political affiliations whatsoever (except for that infiltrator). It wasn't enough to just talk but also to share suggestions, plan productively, all for the hopes of breaking the stagnated work of Palestinian youths under occupation.

Mainstream Nabi Saleh

2011-07-23T13:12:00.007+03:00

What happens when a popular protest becomes the next big crowd-pleasing thing to do?

This morning after a communal breakfast in Nabi Saleh, a friend and solid protester asked me if I saw any changes in the weekly demonstrations. I was enveloped in grogginess from the suffocating heat and the couple hours of sleep I had, so I waited for her to continue speaking.

Her mouth settled in a tiny pout and her eyebrows narrowed. "I hope to God Nabi Saleh doesn't become like Bil'in, that would be a disaster."

My brain cells were activated. Her blond Dutch self was full of annoyance and a little bit of anger. She pointed toward the other people in the room with her chin-a Palestinian trait picked up no doubt-and hissed, "There are too many foreigners here!"

I looked around. It was true, and the next sentence spelled out my niggling thoughts exactly.

"That's great, whatever, but in order for a popular protest and a third intifada to be sustainable, Palestinians themselves must be involved actively, not the ajanib!"

Mairav Zonszein wrote an important article adequately titled, "Where are the Palestinians?" It touched upon the fact that the Palestinian narrative was being distorted or swallowed up by the media in terms of the foreigners' experiences thus silencing the thoughts and opinions of the Palestinians, which leads to headlines only when a foreigner is affected or attacked by Israel's racist policies. I have never been one to dismiss the presence of foreigners. They are important in relaying their experiences and the reality of what Palestinians go through back in their own countries. In the taxi ride to Nabi Saleh a couple weeks ago, one Palestinian asked a French photographer how long she's been in Palestine. When the photographer replied "Eight years" the Palestinian smiled and said, "Oh so you are Palestinian!"

I was forced to come to terms with little things I had observed but consciously ignored or dismissed as small time semblances. I don't hang around foreign activists a lot (not because of anything or an invisible segregation line), we may make wry small talk here and there like, "Bloody fascists, awful temper tantrums they have" but with new faces that come only for one week, it's hard not to think of their motives. Some arrive at Nabi Saleh because they've heard so much about the weekly protests from their friends, others are simply curious to see how this "new" resistance looks like in the face of an army, and still others want to come to later boast to their family and friends about what a glorious activist they make, complete with stories filled with half-truths and over-stretched imaginative wonders.

Those who only make one appearance in Nabi Saleh don't automatically fall in the third group. They might be concerned about their safety, they might think that they can do more to help without taking part in the protests, they might have a little black dot next to their names courtesy of the Israeli Occupation Forces, they might care about being deported, they might not like the experience at all, they might be on a limited schedule, etc.

My friend steam-rolled on.

"There are a lot of foreigners who used to go to Bil'in who act like they're at a party or a photo shoot. Last time I was there, I actually heard one telling his friends to take a picture of him not just yet, but when the tear gas gets fired. It's sickening."

I looked around. "How many here do you think will make it past ten minutes in the protest?" I asked quietly.

She rolled her eyes. "I don't understand why they come at all if they want to barricade themselves inside the houses for eight hours. Like, what the hell do they do to pass the time?"

"Do you think Nabi Saleh is becoming like Bil'in in this sense?"

"Yeah, it's starting to go down that path."

We both mulled this over. I thought of the extra-excited one day activists who make their presence known with their loud talking and southern belle cries of exuberance over any trivial thing, and then as soon as the first tear gas canister hits the ground they go scurrying off to the nearest abode and remain there until the IOF leave. There's a danger that the Nabi Saleh protests will become just that, a hollow act without any context at all.

People who come to Nabi Saleh should know the reason why these protests occur at all. It didn't just start with the settlers taking over the village's main water supply of Al-Kaws Spring a year and a half ago, but way before that, back in 1977 when the settlement Halamish itself was built on the village's expropriated land. It's not like Bil'in or Nil'in in that the apartheid Wall isn't their main target, it's the whole Israeli occupation that manifests itself in the most harshest ways possible on such a tiny village. Child arrests? Been there done that. Curfew hours? A staple. Terrorism? Yawn. Soldiers barge in houses full of children and families, point their Uzi sub-machine guns, and take whoever they want forcefully and illegally. Extensions of houses are under threat of demolitions, furniture destroyed by the skunk sprayed in the rooms, windows broken and subsequent suffocation caused by tear gas thrown at the houses, fathers are detained based on coerced confessions from tortured teenagers, etc.

My friend looked at me with pained eyes. "I couldn't stand the celebrations in Bil'in when Israel finally decided to move a part of the wall from their land-"

"Especially when in the same week an extension of the Wall was being planned on the land of the Walaja village," I murmured.

"-as if the whole protest was solely based on having part of the Wall on their land, and not the dismantling of the whole thing, or the fact that occupation is still on-going-"

"Alive and kicking."

"A lot of the people from Bil'in itself have stopped demonstrating and yes there are foreigners who care and then there are others who go to Bil'in because it's the cool thing to do."

"Nabi Saleh..."

"It's going down that path, I'm telling you."

We looked at each other bleakly.

I don't see myself as an activist. When my Palestinian friends from the US tell me how proud they are of my 'activism' I get a little hot and bothered. It shouldn't be "activism" to stand in solidarity with your own oppressed people. It's a duty, it's an obligation. I initially went to Nabi Saleh because I couldn't stand how the city of Ramallah had become. All those restaurants and pubs and OHMYGOD WE'VE GOT THE MOVENPICK HOTEL all seem to me like they were opened/built because of a severe western inferiority complex. It's just another perpetuation of the illusion that everything here in the Occupied Territories is all fine and dandy because as long as people get to enjoy the night life, that deters them from the real issue at hand which is that the occupation is still 'alive and kicking'. It fosters up attitudes like, "Fuck Israel, I want to enjoy my life" and "Oh so we have to be miserable just because we are occupied?"

Those people don't realize that their priorities are seriously mangled. It goes without saying that working progressively in order to be liberated from colonization and apartheid rule is imperative in order to secure a better and brighter future, but Ramallah needs a bit of reminding. It's simply disgusting the way people act, living the 'good life' and content on passing through checkpoints and being treated as sub-human beings.

But I've digressed. The March 15 youth movement have been crucial in recruiting other Palestinians from around the West Bank to Nabi Saleh, but as was apparent yesterday it just wasn't enough. We pondered this over.

"They're very nice people-"

"Yes they are" I heartily agreed.

"-But..their organization.."

"They lack a clear line of strategic planning-"

"Yes, they need to.."

"Mobilize the masses. It wouldn't be a youth movement if it didn't do that. They've organized a lot of seminars, lectures, conferences which is simply great because a third intifada definitely needs education and awareness and not rash behavior, but at the same time-" I stopped.

I realized "It wouldn't be a youth movement if it didn't do that" sounded extreme. Of course it's a youth movement, and they have been active on a lot of fronts. They mirror the BNC (Boycott Natonal Committee) in the sense that they are there, ready and available, but encourage others to start initiatives which they'll contribute to with their support and backing.

Before the actual protest started yesterday, the soldiers fired tear gas canisters to where we were coming down the dirt road after we had sat in the tent erected for foreigners who slept over on Thursday night. I looked behind me and saw a few Italians absolutely sprinting back up to Nariman and Bassem Tamimi's house, where they stayed until after 8pm. One of the village girls bounded up to me with a wide grin, yelling out "I thought I saw your sister, I'm glad you're here!" as a way of greeting. She stood next to me, watching the Italians run.

"Why are they dressed like that?" she scoffed. "Sandals are really appropriate. Their legs would have been scratched up and bleeding in those short leggings had they actually climbed a hill before."

I went home later that night as usual with my thoughts swirling. I thought of my Dutch friend's agony and how she yelled at the soldiers for arresting (later released) Wisam Tamimi from the village's only supermarket, how she turned to me and said, "I hate myself for not holding on to him [Wisam] more strongly. They just barged in and took him!"

I thought of my sister's friends who came for the first time to Nabi Saleh, fawning over everything, taking a lot of pictures and videos and asking, "What are your thoughts on this? What are your thoughts on that?" to a sixteen year old boy from the village who had his ego positively inflated.

I thought of the medics surreptitiously passing on their IDs to me to hide in my bag, before one of them got arrested.

I thought of Nariman instructing her 10 year old daughter not to run away but to hold her camera and stand her ground in the face of intimidation acts by the IOF.

I thought of Abu Hussam leaning against a wall conversing in Hebrew with one of the soldiers, trying to educate the soldier and point him in the direction of humanity in between sarcastic remarks like "It's forbidden for you all to stay in the shade, you must endure the sun if you want to shoot at us."

I though of what seasoned protesters kept reiterating over and over again, how the army in Nabi Saleh were the most brutal sadistic bunch they had ever come across, a lot worse than the ones in Nil'in and Bil'in.

If only Nabi Saleh can attract as much Palestinians as it does foreigners, those who are committed and sincere and those who can't wait to upload a new profile picture of themselves with the white smoke of tear gas as a backdrop.

Nariam Tamimi Interview

2011-07-19T01:54:00.003+03:00

Originally published by Electronic Intifada.

The first time I went to Nabi Saleh someone pointed out Nariman Tamimi to me. I had already figured out she was the imprisoned grassroots activist Bassem Tamimi’s wife, and as we politely exchanged greetings I blurted out, “Your face is so familiar, like I know I’ve seen you before.”

“Probably at one of the protests in Ramallah or Qalandiya, I’m always demonstating,” came the nonchalant reply.

Along with his cousin Naji Tamimi, also in prison, Bassem has been a leader of the Nabi Saleh Popular Struggle Committee and before his arrest was at the forefront of the weekly demonstrations confronting the Israeli army. The protests were kick-started a year and a half ago after settlers from the adjacent settlement of Halamish further expropriated the village’s main water supply, the spring of al-Kaws.

Bassem has been jailed in Ofer prison in the occupied West Bank since his arrest on 6 March on the basis of “incitement” and “organizing unlawful protests,” a claim which he defiantly rejected. The army’s evidence against Tamimi is a confession made by two village children who were abducted from their homes in the middle of the night, subjected to torture and denied legal counsel. The European Union representative to the UN Human Rights Council has expressed concern over the arrest of Tamimi and other human rights defenders (“European Union Expresses Concern Over Persecution of Bassem Tamimi,” Popular Struggle Coordination Committee, 16 June 2011).

Tamimi was arrested eleven times prior without ever being convicted of an offense. With the start of the weekly protests in Nabi Saleh his wife Nariman and their children have been targeted by the army, with Nariman spending time behind bars and the two oldest sons suffering injuries from tear gas canisters.

There’s a running joke in the village that Nariman unofficially adopts female activists as her daughters. Now as we sit at her kitchen table, chatting like old friends, it’s clear that she must not be characterized as just Bassem’s wife. She’s a mother of four studying international law and she’s been instrumental in documenting every Friday protest.

At one point during the interview, Nariman looks straight at me with her clear blue eyes and declares, “I, Nariman Tamimi, was injured, arrested, had my son injured, a demolition order placed on my house and my husband arrested. But despite all of that I believe that having inculcated peace in my children, the kind that stems from the inside, it will give away to fruitful results. I can’t shout that I’m for peace while holding up a gun.”

Linah Alsaafin: What is your role during the weekly protests?

Nariman Tamimi: I initially joined the protests as a medic, since I knew basic first aid and took courses with the Medical Relief agency. My role is to film and document the violations committed by the Israeli army against the protesters and the villagers. I also deliver first aid to those who need it. I work with B’Tselem, the Israeli human rights organization.

LA: How hard do you find it not to join in the protests while documenting?

NT: It’s difficult to film and at the same time join the protest — especially because of my belief that these protests are legitimate and peaceful, and we are asking for our rights. But of course I’m aware that I could be endangering myself if I do participate, and that the army will prevent me from filming. They already try to stop me from filming even when I don’t participate. Every journalist or cameraperson or any documentarian must be objective and not get caught up with the protesters chanting, but for me this is hard to do and I had already warned B’Tselem about this.

LA: As we know, the village is not united on the protests because of Israel’s repressive response affecting the entire village. What do you think of this and how has that affected your relationship with the opposition?

NT: Everywhere you go you’ll always find the positives and the negatives, the supporters and the opposition. But I think that if you find yourself on the positive side then the negative factors will only serve as more encouragement for you to continue on, because the bullet that doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger.

LA: How have your children coped with the arrest of their father?

NT: My kids went through a more traumatic experience, and that was my detainment. The arrest of a father is unfortunately a widespread phenomenon in Palestinian society, but for children to have their own mother arrested is unquestionably harder to cope with than the arrest of a father. The mother can act the role of two parents and be there for her children in the way a father can’t. Of course, Bassem’s arrest distressed them, but my children are strong and know better than to let it affect them negatively. The effects of the future on them all comes down to how we raise our children. We instill in them love of their country, the sacrifices needed to secure our rights, et cetera.

LA: What is your opinion of the term “nonviolent resistance?”

NT: What is nonviolent resistance? Is it when a soldier shoots at me and I thank him? I think that in order to protest nonviolently one must be convinced from within, where there isn’t any malice or hatred and the hearts communicate with each other, so this internal goodness and peacefulness must broaden out externally. But nonviolent resistance doesn’t mean that a soldier can enter my house, violate my woman and I remain passive. On the contrary, I’ll respond back. Nonviolent resistance is mostly verbal; we respond back with words, but if a stone was the response or comeback then that doesn’t mean it is a weapon. It is more of a message than a weapon.

After being subjected to enormous pressure from the violent tactics of the army for hours and having the soldiers firing tear gas non-stop and then barging into houses, throwing rocks at the soldiers is more of a retaliatory symbolic message.

Our war from the onset is against the media and that is what was missing from the previous protests in our history. The Israelis made did a report about Nabi Saleh on their Channel 2, and they named it “The Deadly Play,” because according to them, when a child stands in front of the army jeep, the cold-hearted villagers make sure to document that without caring about the safety of the child.

LA: Naji Tamimi has already been tried and convicted [and sentenced to a year in prison and a 10,000 shekel fine]. Bassem’s trial is once again postponed to 27 August. The evidence against your husband is the coerced confessions extracted from two youths from the village. How hopeful are you about his case in light of the European Union’s concern over his persecution and arrest?

NT: [Since] the EU paid lip service to Bassem as a defender of human rights, and the fact that Bassem didn’t do anything wrong, then the way I see it, the EU must work to secure his release. That’s the way I understand it. Naji — my maternal uncle — agreed to the deal put forward by the court, the prosecutor and the lawyer because of his refusal to recognize the legitimacy of the court itself. If he gets jailed for two and a half years, what will that be for?

The deal at least gave him a year and a fine; it will be a lighter load on him even if it meant confessing to the charges brought against him. But the court, if you confess or if you don’t confess, has the power to sentence you in any way its likes. Bassem, on the other hand, went in the complete opposite direction. He didn’t agree to sign the deal even though it means that he’ll get a prison sentence of two and a half years, based on a confession from a 14-year-old boy whom the Israelis beat up — even the judge went crazy when he saw the [recording of the] interrogation.

If Bassem does get that sentence because of the coerced confession from a youth, then I believe that with a deal his presence with us here is more advantageous than his time in the Israeli prisons because of his contacts and the movements he works with. Israel believed that in arresting Bassem and Naji, they had finally caught the organizers of the protest. What the Israelis don’t realize is that there is no central organizer here in Nabi Saleh — even a child can decide what to do and what not to do, and so the Israelis believed that in arresting the “two leaders” they can effectively kill off the protests, but that hasn’t been the case at all. We have more people joining in, the protests continue to take place and develop week after week, and our momentum hasn’t been stopped at all.

LA: Tell me a little about your arrests.

NT: The protests started in December 2009. The first week I didn’t participate. The second week I got injured. The third week I was arrested for a day after the soldiers viciously beat up me and the other villagers. They cursed us and used appalling words. The fourth week I was arrested for the second time and I was held for ten days, but I honestly feel that that my detention did not affect me detrimentally at all.

My spirits were kept high and that particular experience only reinforced me to carry on because Israel tried to silence our words of truth. B’Tselem had observed that I was in vantage points where there was a lack of camera presence and approached me after I was released from my second arrest as a sort of protection for my suspended sentence of three years. However that in no way grants me immunity from the unpredictable actions of the Israeli soldiers, as they took my [card showing that I work for B’Tselem], beat me up again and threw it away. There is no such thing as immunity in Israeli discourse.

LA: Have the protests been centered on primarily raising awareness, and do you see this kind of resistance spreading across the West Bank?

NT: Definitely, the protests have caused a lot of awareness and the evidence is that we have Palestinian youth coming from different districts in the West Bank who are committed to going to Nabi Saleh every week. Activists from Israel and the international community are part of the popular resistance that is key to forming the awareness that leads others to denounce Israel as an occupying force and a military state, which is why our war is against the media.

It is a good sign to see more and more people getting convinced and exposing Israel’s crimes and atrocities in a way in which the world can understand them. This current resistance is inclusive of all the members of society, much like the first intifada, which was a true popular uprising, and I do believe that the current protests will spread because of their result of undermining the state of Israel and attracting international responses. The more that increases, the better it is for us.

LA: Do you believe that being so heavily involved in the protests, you have changed as a person or have had your line of thinking altered?

NT: At the start of the protests, I used to see Israel solely embodied as an armed soldier, the army, the interrogator, the female soldier who killed Imm Nizar [editor’s note: Bassem’s sister and the mother of Nizar Tamimi who was arrested in 1993 and is currently serving a life sentence. She was killed after a female soldier accosted her and hit her on the head when she came to Nizar’s court hearing in 1993].

As the popular resistance continued week after week, I began to realize the humanity in the Israeli activists, like [Israeli activist] Jonathan [Pollack], for example. I started to think more humanely about Israel; after all, didn’t Jesus Christ say “love thy enemy?”

That is why I am convinced that peace in sync with harmony must be internalized as well as being a vital part of your internal being. I used to feel incredulous whenever I heard the philosophical words of loving your enemy because I didn’t know what that meant, but I do now.

This love that comes from deep inside your soul is effervescent and has the energy to spread and affect the enemy in a favorable way. I’m sure psychology can explain this type of communication. I’m at peace with myself and I’m happy that my children, despite being put through such acts of violence, are able to grasp and accept the idea of loving a non-Zionist, non-occupying Israel.

Life After University

2011-07-15T17:03:00.005+03:00

When does one stop becoming a university student? Right after they take their last exam, or after the graduation ceremony?

People of the world, July 14th will always be remembered by me as the day I finished my fugly years at Birzeit, or Birzift University. In a fitting manner, my last exam was permeated by classical music sounding out from the teacher's cell phone, in order to soothe our nerves, before Mozart gave way to a Nancy Ajram song. In my mind's eye, as I skipped down the steps and out of the gate, behind me campus resembled an Alice Cooper stage set, fireworks fireworks and more fireworks.

I had dreamed of this day since my first week back when I was a sanfoora. My parents and older cousins would always tell me that I would regret my attitude toward university, as these years would be "the best years of your life." To each their own but they were in fact the worst years in my life owing to a number of factors.

A sense of humor is not celebrated nor advocated
The uppity faculty members who won't look you in the eye because your name doesn't start with Sir/Lady
The students. The goddamn students
The academic atmosphere which is encouraged to stay conventional

Graduation for those who finish after a summer semester is usually in August. That's what I keep telling everyone, and I'm slightly worried because their reaction has been the same: Are you sure?

Even if it wasn't, it's no biggie because graduation ceremonies are the gayest things since Tim Gunn came out. Which is fine if you're all for sappiness and smart dressing, but I'm not too bothered about attending or not.

Due to my increasingly dormant partner in crime Hebz, I've been too scared to find out the answer to whether a new blog must be made if I wanted to change the name of it. Hebz has another semester left, so I can always write here using that as an excuse. Oh I've just been struck by a sudden light of inspiration: from now on I'll include my memories of Birzeit, in addition to the increasingly non-related university shtick I post. And believe me I have a lot of pensive recollections.

By starting this blog, the bitterness and hatred of studying at BZU eventually ameliorated into good-natured humor. Well as good-natured as the circumstances would allow anyway. Whenever something pissed us off we wouldn't sit, cross our arms, and glare ferociously at the world like we used to back in our first year. I'd whip out a notebook and we'd start brainstorming for a post to put together on the blog. Sometimes we reverted back to our sanafer stances but that wasn't our fault at all. So yes, WRITING HAS BEEN THERAPEUTIC.

For me, [cliche warning ahead] it's time to step out into the real world. For my family, it's time for me to gain back the weight I've lost during the past three years, to develop a more positive and relaxed psychological state because as my mama keeps telling me, it's the only way I'll ever regain the thickness of my hair again.

Real World: find a job. There are some students are start working during their last semester. I'm not one of those students. I used to be in such a rush to finish just so I could work and bring home the moolah, but I've forgotten how good it feels to sleep at 5am and wake up at 2pm the next day, something I haven't done since I graduated from high school. Eh, I'll start looking next week. Or after Ramadan. Ok fine, next week.

Job Prospects

NGOs pay good money. I fucking hate NGOs and their policies. Plus I've heard that they are laying off a lot of people because they're scared that come September, all that USAid cash will stop flowing in.

Teaching is a massive no-no in my book. That's all.

I suck at translating. I also don't enjoy it.

I wish I was a waitress back when I studied. That sounds so wrong and so promiscuous in the context of Palestinian Arab culture. Efft.

I think I should just work on publishing my first book. It'll take years out of me, and I'll end up living in a sewage garret at one point, but then my book will explode on the scene and shake the world. J K Rowling used to be my role model. She's richer than the Queen now.

Family: My aunts like to point out that wink wink nudge nudge, watch out for a 3rees/suitor to come any day now for you! Suitors are also up there with teaching, another massive no-n0. I can't tell that to my aunts though; they'll think I'm deranged. So it's all about tight smiles bordering on grimaces and a few inshallahs to placate them.

Even though once again in our Palestinian Arab culture, I'm running out of excuses. Hey, you graduated from high school, that's good enough for the geezer generation. Hey, you graduated from university, that's good enough for the parents. Hey, you started working, you'll be doomed to a life of singledom and celibacy now. You can take the Arab out of the fob, but you can't take the fob from the Arab.

One thing I'll be doing soon--and hold your laughter I'm still quite sensitive about this topic--is learning how to drive. Whenever I'm in the driver's seat, the parent/uncle next to me suffers from a serious case of frozen Petrifying syndrome. What, can't help it if I've got the Schumacher genes in me.

For now, it's definitely onwards for me. Using Gaddafi's catchphrase, ILAL AMAM!

Ramallah's Revolting Resistance

2011-07-13T19:36:00.000+03:00

This can only elicit three reactions.

One: Speechlessness.

Two: Rage. Raaaage. RAAAAGE. A lot of cursing. A lot of fuck-ficking. A lot of angry fists aimed at the screen, followed by a series of drop kicks to anything moving within 50 feet.

Three: Hollow screaming, to the point where the parents run into your room, yell louder than you to find out if you're dying or not, and then deliver a good slap around the head for disturbing their precious Al Jazeera TV time.

I don't drink, but who the hell would want to get drunk from a couple rounds of a Kheibar? Or a Kassam? The pretentious bourgeoisie are at it again, after all didn't that class invent the sex-on-a-beach cocktail?

My eyes. My bleeding Lasik-modified eyes.

It's disgusting, it's belittling, it's completely cheap.

You know those silly little sell-out events that claim to be all about peace thus there's no question of NOT attending because if you don't then obviously you're one for violence and total annihilation of white people? The Dance for Peace festival. Rap for Freedom night. Real Palestinian Food [read what the peasants eat] Resistance Week, let's show the world who hummus and falafel really belong to.

But it's all good, because those Palestinians just want to live their lives dammit, they are so sick of being under occupation when there's barely anything outside that let's them escape that fact, so why can't they just drink a few shots of Gilad, swirl up a kuffiyeh cocktail, and party away instead of working constructively to rid themselves of their present situation?

There are a lot of question marks in this post. WHY Andareen WHY.

via arabagenda.blogspot.com

7th Anniversary of ICJ Ruling

2011-07-09T16:31:00.010+03:00

June 12 2002 marked the first day building the wall but it took the International Court of Justice another two years before they "legally" recognized the Wall as a violation of human rights, disrupting every aspect of Palestinian life such as separating farmers from their lands, families from each other, children from their schools, stores from their customers-in short an effective tactic to divide Palestinian land into little bantustans.

Continuing on with its hysterical overdrive in suppressing activists from getting anywhere lest God forbid the true face of apartheid Israel is finally shown to the outside world, once again the Israeli Occupation Forces established flying checkpoints across the West Bank sealed off roads leading to Nabi Saleh as more than 200 protesters succeeded in reaching the village's spring. I say 'once again' because yesterday after the taxi I was in made it past Atara checkpoint, all other cars and taxis were refused passage through. The next taxi carried more activists bound for Nabi Saleh, and after one arrest (thankfully later released) the other activists were made to sit outside in the sweltering sun for six hours. The village itself was under siege until 8 pm, which definitely wasn't going to help my case with my parents since I got home late.

To show solidarity with the second flotilla, the villagers along with volunteers stayed up late on Thursday night to finish a model of a ship, which they named "The Popular Resistance Flotilla"/ اسطول المقاومة الشعبية. It was made up of a few wooden planks cobbled together but, adorned with a huge Palestine flag on its mast and sporting flags of other countries it looked beautiful. After noon prayers, the procession made its way down the street with the IOF watching them from below and as soon as they got within one hundred meters the soldiers fired tear gas straight at the crowd. It seems like every week the tear gas gets more toxic, its effects made to last longer.

A new campaign has started in Palestine to embargo arms sales in Israel, with the UK government continuing to sell arms to Israel in violation of its own arms export policy.

Israel in return "battle-tests" some of military equipment against the Palestinians, the lab rats.

Last Friday in Bilin the village celebrated and partied as after seven years of demonstrating, part of the Apartheid Wall was finally going to be dismantled. The village would regain 275 acres out of the 600 acres annexed to the Wall and the neighboring settlement. Bilin I Love You by French photographer Anne Paq is a must read, as she captures the festive victorious atmosphere after the village had sacrificed so much to reach this point. And yet, that is certainly no precursor to the Wall's beginning of the end demise, in case anyone thought that was so. Wafa News and Info Agency reports that in the village of Walaja, north-east of Bethlehem, Israeli forces marked the land to raze and uproot olive trees where a new path of the Apartheid Wall is to be constructed. This new path will take over 500 dunums and isolate a further 1958 dunums.

Today was another day for activism, but it wasn't publicized because the organizers wanted to catch the Israeli army by surprise. Hundreds of activists made their way to Nabi Saleh after they spent a couple of hours in Bilin. They however were met with a hundred soldiers. After reaching the spring, Tamimi Press reports that it was named Emily Spring by the activists in homage to the Jewish American student Emily Henochowicz who lost an eye after protesting at Qalandiya checkpoint the outrageous Israeli attack on the flotilla last year.

The IOF then responded with the typical tear gas, which lead to a number of people suffocating. One canister hit Ahed, Bassem and Nariam Tamimi's oldest son in the leg, where it burned the skin. Wa'd had suffered from a similar injury just a few weeks ago. Nariman and her brother in law Bilal were briefly detained before being released. What exactly can the IOF do to two people working with B'tsalem, the Israeli human rights organization? I remembered Wa'd sleeping on the floor in the open living room yesterday, as we sat down for the communal breakfast Nariman made for us, in between getting her youngest son dressed and combing her daughter's hair. Watch her below, screaming at the soldiers who shot Wa'd.

For some reason, the Israeli media/hasbarists thought that those foreigners at Bilin and Nabi Saleh were part of the Air Flotilla/Flytilla crew. Joseph Dana exposes their fallacy as just another case of false and lazy journalism. Because as soon as it gets published in The Jerusalem Post, that gives the other news outlets to do the same.

According to media reports carried by all major news outlets in Israel, four ‘air flotilla’ passengers have been arrested/detained in the West Bank village of Nabi Saleh during an unarmed demonstration this morning. Haartez, in its headline story, is citing reports by Channel 10 (Heb), that four ‘air flotilla’ activists have been taken for questioning after they had been arrested in the demonstration. The Jerusalem Post, citing unnamed ‘organizers’, claims that air flotilla passengers are clashing with security forces in Nabi Saleh. The paper does not cite the name of the organizations that the ‘organizers’ are representatives of. Ynet is reporting that activists might be involved in demonstrations in Nabi Saleh and Qalandiya but they provide nothing to substantiate their claims. None of these reports seem to based on facts on the ground in Nabi Saleh.
Kobi Snitz, an Israeli activist with the Anarchists Against the Wall, told me by telephone from Nabi Saleh that he has not seen any ‘air flotilla’ passenger in the course of the day. He told me that four people were indeed arrested, but they were all Israeli Jews from Tel Aviv. In fact, the Israeli activists are being charged with assaulting soldiers despite clear video footage to the contrary according to Snitz.

The activists then climbed into buses and made their way to Qalandiya checkpoint, where an earlier demonstration in the morning had taken place. They managed to cut part of the fences around the checkpoint, but decided not to go through because their numbers had drastically reduced.

It seems silly and unnecessary to write, but sometimes living under occupation hits you hard and in the most unexpected times. Following the events unfolding on Twitter, I stopped breathing for a few seconds, my hands raised over the keyboard as I thought, damn. Look at the brutality of the soldiers in the video. This is no exception, they act like that all the time. A Martian would think it safe to assume that their reaction is justified because the assailants (the activists on the ground getting slugged and verbally abused) are packing some serious heat or something.

Silly Israel, everything you are doing only strengthens my will, my resolve, my sumud to go on, keep protesting, fight for my rights and my land until liberation is achieved.

Hundreds of Foreigners Plan to Visit Palestine

2011-07-06T14:01:00.006+03:00

They answered the call of 15 Palestinian civil society organizations where they will take part in a week full of activism. Unfortunately, the only Palestine they'll be able to see is the West Bank. And this is such a hard thing for us to write, because what do you call a Palestine that was taken over by Zionists with the full backing of a superpower and used violent methods to systematically ethnically cleanse, or drive over half of the indigenous population to mostly neighboring countries which created more problems which then culminated in a huge diaspora problem, and that "move" was so sudden and expected at least on that indigenous population's side to last no more than a few months, which meant that the homes and villages and towns of these people, complete with furniture and clothes and assorted knick-knacks were either readily taken over by Jewish immigrants or razed to the ground for commercial reasons (shame on ANY Palestinian, especially those who get all giddy about finally acquiring the special permit to visit Jerusalem and then buy overpriced clothes from the Canyon Mall, which is built on the demolished site of the Malha village), and so with the complicit nature of the international committee a new astonishingly racist state, fodder for the white man in the west, came into being and then other complications were mixed in such as that new state's absolute right to every inch of Palestine plus a part of Egypt plus Jordan plus Syria plus Lebanon plus Iraq based on messianic revelations in an ancient text ET CETERA ET CETERA. The five hundred+ villages and eleven urban neighborhoods that were wiped out of any traces of the Palestinians exist in this new state as national parks, christened settlements, or "historic" sites of Israel. The two state solution is dead and buried under mounds and mounds of mockery, subcontracted occupation, and yellow negotiations, so jumping ahead to the optimistic future a bit, what will this one state be called? Israel/Palestine? Palestine/Israel? Did Gaddafi have it right when he proposed to name the country "Israfil?" Israel is a reality of course, but that doesn't make it any easier to call villages and cities and towns in their Judaized names (Yafa>Yafo, Akka>Akko, Aelia/Beit Salem/Al-Quds>Yorshaylim..) or refer to our grandparents' homes as part of Israeli territory. Listen here to Invincible's song 'People Not Places.' It's all about legitimacy.

Nevertheless, these foreigners who also go by the dangerous incriminating name of pro-Palestinian activists, number between 700 to 1500, and are due to arrive with peaceful intentions this Friday July 8th at the Ben Gurion airport, where they will clearly inform the Israeli authorities that they are here solely to visit the Palestinian territories and will stress on the part that the only means through to them is via this airport since Israel controls all border crossings and restricts the freedom of movement for Palestinians and other solidarity activists.

The reaction from Israel has been hilarious and unsurprising. Netanyahu wasted absolutely no time in growling out that these activists (he was just a breath short of calling them terrorists or terrorist sympathizers) are a threat to Israel and undermine Israel's right to exist. His responses to anything pro-Palestine are boring; is there anything in his book that doesn't undermine Israel's right to exist? The flotilla must be stopped because they will give Khamas nuclear warheads to annihilate Israel. Yawn. Couldn't he have livened up his statement by adding a creative twist, something about how these activists are disguised as peace-loving humanitarians but are in reality a special elite force of the Shinossad (Shin Bet + Mossad), planning to infiltrate the Palestinian territories in order to take down whatever germinating popular resistance against Israel? And then, let your imagination run wild in planning out different scenarios for why the Shinossad are to be met with such hostility.

Despite the activists stating their peaceful intentions, they are still treated by Israeli security forces as bomb strapped hooligans. Apparently, being a pro-Palestinian activist automatically means that one must be a raving, violent lunatic with murderous intentions, a bit like a watered down version of Baruch Goldstein. All the activists are interested in is going through the passport control room, stating "We are here to visit the Palestinian territories" and then proceed out of the airport, into their buses and taxis, and off to said Palestinian territories. But no, everyone is in hysterics, Israeli public security will establish a special operations room in the airport in honor of those provocative terrorist sympathizers, with "representatives from the Foreign Ministry, the Aviation Authority, the Internal Security Ministry, police representatives, Prime Minister's Office officials and others" to officially monitor, hassle, interrogate, and deport said wannabe camel-jockeys.

Israel, in a major breakthrough, identified more than 300 of those activists and put little black circles next to their names. Which then led to deceased security in the airport, because the Israeli Transportation Ministry twisted the arms of the countries the activists are flying out from who barred them from flying to Israel.

Point is, the democratic state of Israel is shaking. After one pillar gets knocked down, the others will follow. And not because of a 99.9% unlikely Iranian war or the Khamas tinpot homemade rockets, but because of its own increasingly desperate self-destructive attempts to save its image and reputation of a Jewish-made land of milk and honey with beautiful liberal minded people and fine upholding standards on every societal level. It seems that it's obvious to everyone except neo-cons and crazies that this tactic is in fact achieving the opposite effect and is polarizing Israel even more. The international community is slowly rousing from its bogged down silence and are engaging in more solidarity and awareness events to showcase Israel's impunity and atrocities.

We don't think that the hundreds of activists will be allowed through. Maybe a hundred, a couple hundred. Maybe fifty. What are the chances for this flytilla to succeed more than the second flotilla? We don't know. We do know that Israel needs to get with the program, cease its occupation and apartheid policies, stop its fascist methods to discredit anything that doesn't come with a WE LOVE ISRAEL hard-on, and to breathe.

Is peace still on the table, anyone?

Shakira Ya Hakira

2011-07-05T00:30:00.000+03:00

Back when Al-Jazeera dropped the bomb on the Palestine Papers in January, we realized what absolute tools we had for Facebook friends. They had changed their profile pictures to a big red smoking ban ring on Al-Jazeera's logo, and statuses were were of slander toward the channel. The PA organized protests in Ramallah with one huge banner reading "Al-Jazeera = Sahyouniyeh/Zionism". It was pretty hilarious, but nothing compared to the catchy chants started up by the goons: Ya Jazeera Ya Haqira.

Haqir: /hackir/ noun, adjective; singular masculine form. A bastard, a lowlife, a scoundrel. Singular feminine form is haqira.

*The /h/ is the Arabic pharyngeal 'h' sound, not the English fricative. The /i/ is a long 'ee'. We may be showing our major here a bit too much.

Anyway, we've fallen behind on posting BDS successes or their targeted campaigns at the next entertainer to perform in the only democracy in the Middle East. Shakira, she of Columbian and Lebanese descent, ignored all the letters and attempts to educate her fluffy mainstream cougar head about Israeli occupation and Apartheid, and horribly splintered the hearts of millions of Arab men with THIS:

Grosssssss. And Pique, your hotness level definitely plummeted too. Thank goodness for Xavi and Dahhvid Villa.

In her speech, Shakira went on to spout some nonsensical blather about Israel being the mother of all cultures, apparently ignorant of the fact that Israel is only 63 years old.

Award winning actress and writer Najla Said penned a letter to the diva, which sums up everything we're too lazy to properly express:

Dear Shakira,
Since your trip to Israel this week was ostensibly one of “good will” and humanity, and since in your speech to the Israeli Presidential Conference you stated that you are “convinced…that investing in education is the best strategy for peace and global stability,” I am going to give you an education. In humanity and solidarity.

Let me start by saying that I was a fan of yours before your mainstream American commercial success. I loved your Spanish albums, and I loved you for seeming like a rebellious little punk who dyed her hair funny colors and sang melodiously along to crunchy “rock ‘n’ roll” guitar riffs about how messed up you were over a boy. You reminded me of the Spanish Alanis Morrissette. When you released your first English language album, I was a little sad that the whole world would know about you, but I was also excited for them to, because you loved to talk about being Lebanese. So even though your English lyrics were laughable and you dyed your hair blonde and became a Britney Spears clone like they all do, you were still you, shaking your hips and banging your drums and telling the world that belly dancing was in your blood, because you are Lebanese. And when Wyclef Jean said, “Let me see you move like you come from Colombia,” as you did your famous hip gyrations, a few of us who are also Lebanese cringed, but we got over it because we were proud of you.

Don’t get me wrong, Shaki, I don’t want you to go back to being your younger self. I am glad that you, like Alanis, grew up and discovered love, peace and happiness, but you might have thought a bit about what it means to be educated before you spoke publicly about how important it is. I don’t expect you to be “political.” I know you are an entertainer and it’s not your job to “be political.” But you made yourself political from day one by showing off your Lebanese-ness.

Here is the thing about being Lebanese or Arab; you kind of have to love us for who we are and what we feel as much as you love us for our hummus and our belly dancing because for the first time in a long time we are proud of where we are from and are able to speak out about injustices that have been committed against us and our loved ones for decades. And here you are, making us feel shitty and hurt. You weren’t an Orientalist before because you seemed to be one of us, but now, my love, you are.

The modern state of Israel shares geography, but nothing more, with the “Abrahamic” religions that may have originated there.
As a UN goodwill ambassador, you maybe should have thought about the hundred or so (give or take) UN resolutions that the State of Israel has defied before hugging their President, Shimon Peres. You might have thought of visiting Gaza instead of one of the rare schools in Israel proper, where Israeli and Arab children, who are fortunate enough to be allowed citizenship, learn together. In 2006, you spoke out against the Israeli war on Lebanon, and called for an end to the fighting. In your statement, you said, “We do not need leaders who create dispute, anger and hate, but rather leaders who care about the people and their needs.” Well, your lips lied on that one, honey. Again, I need only to point to your ridiculous love fest with Peres at the Israeli Presidential Conference yesterday to prove my point. People who actually believe in peace and goodwill do not ignore half the people in the equation when they set out to perform acts of peace and good will. They don’t hug former military leaders (even ones who have a Nobel Peace Prize), and they don’t say things like this:

“I am very happy to be in Israel, because I believe this is the perfect place to talk about how urgent it is to make education a priority. Israel has been a great melting pot of cultures for so many centuries. It will continue to be. In my song ‘Waka Waka,’ I sang how we are all Africa. Today I want to say that as part of western civilization we are all the inheritors of an Abrahamic culture and a soul that has been forged here; therefore, we are all Israel, too.”

We are not all Israel, Shakira, and that’s the point. The modern State of Israel shares geography, but nothing more, with the “Abrahamic” religions that may have originated there. Some of us are Palestinian and cannot be Israeli. Some of us are from Gaza and cannot even go to Israel. Some of us are Lebanese and have been bombed by Israel. Some of us are Jewish and don’t believe in what Israel says and does. That doesn’t mean it has no right to exist; it does, but so do we.

And since you spoke of children and education, I’d like to leave you with something that Alice Walker said the other day about her decision to ride on the Freedom Flotilla to Gaza. It sums up everything I am trying to say much more beautifully than I ever could:
“I see children, all children, as humanity’s most precious resource, because it will be to them that the care of the planet will always be left. One child must never be set above another, even in casual conversation, not to mention in speeches that circle the globe.

As adults, we must affirm, constantly, that the Arab child, the Muslim child, the Palestinian child, the African child, the Jewish child, the Christian child, the American child, the Chinese child, the Israeli child, the Native American child, etc., is equal to all others on the planet. We must do everything in our power to cease the behavior that makes children everywhere feel afraid.”

Thank you for your time, Miss Mubarak (Hey, come to think of it, are you related to the dude who ran Egypt for a really long time? Because that would explain EVERYTHING!).
Love,
Najla

PS What in the name of flying fudgecrackers is up with her latest music video? We felt like 16 again when we used to get that nascent guilty feeling of watching something that starts with DO NOT WATCH IF NOT 18 OR OVER. Crap, no not porn dammit.

And now we move on to Jello Biafra and the Guantanamo School of Medicine. We're not even going to pretend to know who this is but a quick Wikipedia search tells us that he's an American singer, spoken word artist and leading figure of the Green Party. He's also an anarchist, supports various political causes, and advocates direct cause and pranksterism in the name of said political causes. Great, so where does that fit into his awareness about Israeli occupation and Apartheid? Oh, it doesn't. But the pressure was so great on him and his band. A petition was signed by thousands. His Facebook page turned into a spam-fest of Zionist trolling (and religious warfare by the "proper" Muslims) after activists appealed to him not to play in Tel Aviv citing reasons and resources and overwhelming evidence. He finally pulled out, and wrote the most wet blanket letter we've ever read:

Dear Friends,
Jello Biafra and the Guantanamo School of Medicine are not going through with the July 2 date in Tel Aviv. This does not mean I or anyone else in the band are endorsing or joining lockstep with the boycott of all things Israel.

I am going to Israel and Palestine to check things out myself and may yet conclude that playing for people in the belly of the beast was the right thing to do in the first place.

The toll and stress on the band members and myself has been huge, both logistically and as a matter of conscience. I can't drag anyone any further into rough waters without being better prepared than some of us thought we were. A responsible leader does not go, 'Hey, check out the storm at the top of Mount Everest. Let's go up anyway just in case we don't die.' Some members are angry with me for this decision, let alone how long it took me. I don't blame them.

It would have been so easy to quietly pass on the gig out of fear someone might get upset, and no one would have been the wiser. We could have flown under the radar, left the date off our tour postings and not bothered with a statement, but how honest is that?

Our intention in going was that we thought we could do some good , speaking truth to power, fans and impressionable young minds in a way that most bands don't. What about the people on the same side of the human rights fence we are who now don't get to see us play? Should they be boycotted too? What about the even larger atrocities of the Bush regime and by extension Obama? Should we turn off our mouths of anger and boycott our own country too?

We tried again and came close to landing a Ramallah show, but again, we needed to be better prepared. How fair is it to the organizers to demand a full-on rock show on a few days' notice with a type of music they may not be familiar with? More importantly, how much are we really doing for Palestinian rights if people there don't seem interested in our kind of music at all?

I've been doing this long enough to know better than buy into hardline absolutes such as playing in Israel automatically supports apartheid or Israel's government. That threat is ridiculous. I know far more about this issue than some people think I do, and I am not a poodle for Hasbara, Peace Now, BDS or anyone else.

The first people contacting us went out of their way to be diplomatic and communicate how they felt. Then our Facebook page went from eye-opening and educational to a childish bickerfest between a handful of people, to the point where we had to try something else just to reclaim our own Facebook page.

As the gloves came off, unfortunately so did some of the masks. Calling anyone speaking up for Palestinian rights a 'terrorist' is dumb. So are the blanket condemnations of everyone who happens to be Israeli that seem to be coming from the 'drive all the Jews into the sea' crowd. I also even got an invitation from a self-proclaimed fan to 'come meet the Israeli right' and see the settlements through their eyes, complete with a wine-tasting party. Whew!

Whoever started punksagainstapartheid.com now admits it was aimed solely at one person - me. It is obvious that not everyone signing the petition has any idea who I am, or knows anything about punk, possibly the majority. The last time I looked I could only find three names of people I actually knew. Some made it clear that I will be on their bad list no matter what I do because I dared to even think of playing in Israel.

I can't back anyone whose real goal or fantasy is a country ethnically cleansed of Jews or anyone else. Where people who think for themselves or talk to the wrong person are automatically a sell out. Speaking personally, I currently favor two democratic states in the admittedly naive hope that in our lifetime they can somehow evolve into one. Where race or religion does not matter because people have learned to work with each other.

I think back to last year when JBGSM played in Serbia. The locals we spent time with were not monsters, and filled me in on how they risked their necks for years opposing and demonstrating against Milosevic and were not down with ethnic cleansing at all. But they weren't too happy about being bombed by NATO for over 2 months straight either, and showed the ruined buildings to prove it.

I also heard comments like, 'The Croats killed my grandfather in World War II. I can't forget that...' and 'There's another war coming soon. I can feel it.' The most I could do from the stage is say that I do not know what I would do if the Croats or Serbs killed my grandfather, or a suicide bomber or occupying army killed my child. But I would hope I would be one of those people who could somehow say, 'Can't we have some peace?' The audience seemed to appreciate that.

The next day I laid out my thoughts and emotions to the person giving me a ride in Slovenia. She turned ice cold and said, 'Maybe next time you should play in Bosnia.' Good point. The nightmare continues.

Rise Above,

Jello Biafra

There is so much to criticize here. If he performed in Ramallah that makes it ok for him to play in Tel Aviv?

BEEEEE
DEEEEE
ESSSSS

So the point missed him completely. Of course, he couldn't have followed the meek path of those performers who cancelled their gigs in Israel, citing "professional reasons" or something of the other. Nope, he had to be honest to his fans. It will be interesting to see what his impressions are after checking out 'Palestine/Israel' for himself.

Nora Barrows-Friedman, staff writer and editor for The Electronic Intifada, rolled her eyes at Jello's letter too:

Biafra’s decision to cancel the Tel Aviv gig is the right one, but he still seems under the impression that the boycott is a fringe movement that he has the right to ignore.

In his statement, Biafra also concludes quite naively that if he had also booked a gig in Ramallah, in the occupied West Bank, it would have put the entire debate to rest — as though playing a show in Tel Aviv and playing a show in Ramallah would have been an equitable move. However he doesn’t understand that playing a show in Tel Aviv in the first place is a direct violation of the Palestinian-led boycott call, no matter wherever else one happens to play. If an artist performs for money in Tel Aviv, he is crossing the boycott line. And Palestinians leading the BDS call will not be placated or amused by a token gig in a ghetto bantustan in the West Bank.

Read the rest of her article here.

And next time, we won't wait a week to finally type this up.

Freedom in Colors Day

2011-06-27T00:52:00.005+03:00

All pictures taken by the wonderful Lizzy Harper.

The Nabi Saleh Children

2011-06-25T00:48:00.008+03:00

UPDATE: A more politer version of this article is found over at Electronic Intifada.

Prologue:

[Freedom in Colors. I sent the link to my dad, adding "I know I'm pushing my luck here but can I please go?" The reply was unexpected and sweetly succint: "Yes, you may go, but please take your sister with you." I was ecstatic. All the doom and gloom from the past week disappeared in a puff of smoke. I was going to Nabi Saleh again. I was going to see the other activists. I was going to hug and squeeze and smother my little Spiderman with kisses again.]

Jana, Dana, Rand, 'Ahd. Salam, Areej, Mahmoud, Ahmad. Ranin, Hamada, Osama, Shatha. And of course, Samer aka Spiderman, and Hisham aka Batman.

Ask each child about what happens every Friday and you'll be left reeling at their solemn impassivity. They sound mechanical, a bit put off at having to repeat what they no doubt have already done to other activists. Some look at you, others fiddle with the bracelet you're wearing.

Spiderman doing what he does best

Lara, called by her pet name Lulu. She's two and a half years old, has chubby cheeks (plenty of room to draw on!), and her hair is twirled into pigtails. She doesn't talk and stares either at the ground or past your shoulder. Last year her mother threw her out of the window from the second floor of the house. The IOF were firing tear gas inside the house and everyone inside was suffocating. Lulu, along with the others who managed to escape outside, had to flatten themselves on the ground as the tear gas whistled and exploded over their heads. The incident certainly has its traumatic and psychological scars; for a while Lulu hated her mother, thinking that she threw her out of the window on purpose.

Jana spent a few months in the US, so she understands and speaks some English. Ask her where she lived in America, and she'll reply, "West Palm-en Beach." Ask her what goes on every Friday and she'll reply, "We go out to the maseera [protest]." Ask her to elaborate a bit more, and she'll comply. "The soldiers fire tear gas and live ammunition, and the shabab throw rocks. I'm not scared of the soldiers." I wonder, is it not criminal for "live ammunition" to be part of a five year old's vocabulary?

Samer, my special little Spiderman, climbs on your knees, makes himself comfortable and starts talking. He can't pronounce the 'r' sound and substitutes it for 'y'. "The army comes every Friday. When they leave I throw rocks on their jeeps. I'm not scared of them then."

'Ahd on the left, Areej on the right. Both taunting the soldier. "Shoot me! You're scared, look at you hiding behind your gun! Inta majnoon!" And just to make it more clear, they said it in English: You are CRAAAZY!

Izz is eleven years old but acts like he's forty. He dodges my hand. "What do you want to draw on my face for-do I look like a baby?" He puts his hand on his chest before tapping his head once, in the old man gesture of thanks-but-no-thanks. I watch his skinny figure walk away, his shoulders squared, his voice deepening whenever he raises it.

Salam is the youngest child of Basem and Nariman Tamimi. He's a natural Beiber, straight naturally highlighted hair almost covering his eyes. He was initially very reluctant to share in the fun, latching himself onto his mother like a barnacle, burying his face in her leg. Later I saw him running, holding onto a string of balloons, with a sun and a moon painted on each cheek.

Ranin is ten years old. She doesn't take part in the protests themselves but watches them from her rooftop. "When the soldiers get angry, they start shooting tear gas inside the houses. We're worried about my sister Ro'a, she's only nine months old." I asked her about whether she thinks the protests actually mean anything. "Even if you all didn't come, the army will still be here. Today at least, you made us have fun."

This Friday in Nabi Saleh was planned as a day of color and fun. Balloons, clowns, face-painting, kite-flying, the works. It was dubbed as "freedom in colors." It was a day centered on the children, for them to live one day as normal carefree kids, a day to temporarily make them forget about their reality that consists of soldiers, jeeps, and tear gas. The idea was for the children to take their kites, made from plastic bags and newspapers, and fly them at the spot where the Israel jeeps park, before the children then advance over to the neighboring hill. Because the soldiers won't fire at children, right?

We painted faces, mostly flowers and hearts and the flag of Palestine. I took out my artistic prowess on one face as I drew tiger stripes with aplomb. Nearby Manal Tamimi was getting interviewed about her predictions for today: "No, I don't think the army will be better to us this time, or any less dangerous." The hours leading up to noon prayers were filled with kids playing with hula hoops, little girls comparing their body art, the older boys engaged in a game of football. Prayers weren't even over yet when the IOF pulled in with their jeeps and got out to line up in front of the smattering of children who were at the end of the street at the time.

There's a distinct acridness in the air. The villagers are immune to it, but i could feel it tingling on my upper lip and just inside my nostrils, making me sneeze some fifty times.

One of the kids planted a Palestine flag on the jeep. Woot woot!

This time, the border police, more sadistic than the army, were the ones who faced us menacingly. More children came down, a couple holding their kites. Last week, the IOF gave us at least ten minutes of chanting before unleashing the tear gas. This week, without the presence of diplomatic consuls, their true colors didn't hesitate to come out. The older people barely had time to congregate when the sound bombs began. I was inside Manal and Bilal Tamimi's house, and the women were hurriedly closing all the windows because by then the tear gas had already filled the air. Chancing a look outside, I saw two border police violently pushing and shoving Maath Musleh, the guy behind the Nabi Saleh online live streaming, who was decked out in his usual Press vest.

Things calmed down briefly, and everyone went outside. Hamada, Spiderman's older brother, had a kite in his hand but seemed unwilling to go out. Hamada was once hit by a tear gas canister in his side which caused internal bleeding and damage in his liver and kidney. The injury was quite serious, and his family had feared the worst. Thankfully, he is all healed now. I picked up the tail of the kite and we stepped outside together, his mother encouraging him all the way. There was barely any wind. I had to throw the kite up in the air and Hamada would have to shorten and tug at the string while simultaneously running backwards. He couldn't run more than five steps because the border police, with the army behind them, were standing right there. After a few more tries we finally succeeded in keeping the kite aloft for a few seconds.

We then chanted as usual, singing Fairuz's song about kites, and sat down on the burning asphalt. The commander went to his jeep and the loudspeaker on top crackled in urban Arabic, "This is a closed military zone. You have five minutes to disperse or we start shooting." This was met with jeers and cat calls. A chant then started up, "Show us the papers! Show us the papers!" referring to the nonexistent legal document that specifically states whether Nabi Saleh is in fact a closed military zone or not.

There's a difference between the army and the border police. Essentially they're part of the same wrapper, but while the army soldiers look passive and impervious to our actions and slogans, the border police positively drip with malevolence and hostility. Their eyes don't stare blankly ahead, they rove from one face to another, and whisper to each other little first-world jokes and sneer as our chants become more vociferous.

One minute passed. Their stances shifted, grew more aggressive, so we stood up. "This is a closed military zone. This protest is illegal!" the loudspeaker blared out again. How-and I'm struggling with words here-ironic? Paradoxical? Ridiculous? And so much more. Today was supposed to be all about the children. For them to live one Friday not plagued by tear gas or the frightening explosions of the sound bombs or being confined to their houses. The children were to parade their faces and fly their kites. But the IOF can't differentiate between children and armed threatening forces.

"You have five minutes."

I kept my eyes on the tear gas canister in one of their hands. But I didn't see it getting thrown, and I was suddenly engulfed in white smoke, with the flurry of people moving all around me. I squeezed my eyes shut and then opened them again-big mistake. They immediately began to burn, really burn, and once again I stumbled blindly into one house, down the stairs, eyes glued together and streaming, trying to inhale deeply, a permanent saw against the back of my throat. You think you don't panic when the tear gas hits you because you don't throw your arms up in the air shrieking with fear and pain, but in all honestly I was thinking about not losing my cool too much to actually pay attention to what's happening around me. Later I was told the canister was right between my feet, and guys were yelling at me to move to the side. Downstairs I paced back and forth, counting down the minutes until everything in my body went back to normal, my heart thudding dully. I was trying to figure out what happened, well that was a no-brainer really but did they just fire tear gas into a crowd filled with children? Where does Shakira's laudable work for children fit in here? Oh that's right, it doesn't.

The tear gas got so bad we had to stay in the houses. The children were kept preoccupied with cartoons but after a couple of hours they grew restless. I went upstairs with Manal to help make tea for over twenty people ("Please use plastic cups," I implored her) and the kids followed shortly after, opening the veranda doors inside the kitchen and going outside.

Kids Vs Army

Jana, Rand and Salam making their voices heard at the Israeli jeeps below

The Nabi Saleh children began singing nationalist songs. The oldest couldn't have been more than twelve years old. A bunch of them went around the back of the house and stood in front of the armored jeeps, peace signs at the ready. Spiderman followed them. Without warning, the fucking IOF shot tear gas at them from a close range. The wiser ones skipped away and ran back to the house, poor little Spiderman stayed where he was and got the full blast. He was obviously terrified and in pain. Later, back in his mother Manal's arms, he had finally stopped crying. Manal asked him how the gas had affected him. He answered, "3adi, zay kul muya [murra]." The same, like always.

That's some profoundness for you.

Some soldiers don't want to be in a village firing at civilians using disproportionate force. They are just there to do their "duty". The border police want to be there, they don't exactly garner up sympathy in court cases once they get exposed for beating up an unarmed Palestinian. We went back outside and asked one of the soldiers, why do you shoot at children? The answer we got was mind-blowing and drenched in sadism: "Because I want to." That statement illustrated itself as once again the tear gas started. One canister hit ten year old Areej square in the back. She fell like a sack of bricks.

Every child has a right to a childhood. The Nabi Saleh children are denied this right. Jana and Rand were watching Cartoon Network when the sound bombs went off yet again. Jana barely raised her head, tiredly saying "Khalas. Stop it." After a few minutes Rand got bored and opened the door. She came back to where Jana was curled up on the couch, tapped her shoulder and said, "Yallah, let's go see the army again." It's cute, it's bitterly funny, it's heart-breaking to see them act this way, as if that's completely normal. I wonder how these kids will turn out to be. I wonder if they ever think of Israeli children whether they are innocent, and if later the bitterness and jealousy over these Israeli children living in such relative comfortableness and security will begin to manifest destructively.

Our own heroes, Spiderman and Batman.

"For decades, the conflict between Israelis and Arabs has cast a shadow over the region. For Israelis, it has meant living with the fear that their children could be blown up on a bus or by rockets fired at their homes, as well as the pain of knowing that other children in the region are taught to hate them."

Dear Obama, fuck you.

Vittorio Arrigoni, Immortalized in Ramallah

2011-06-22T22:15:00.001+03:00

It certainly has been an emotionally charged past few days. Last week a documentary about Al-Jazeera Arabic broadcasted a documentary about Vittorio Arrigoni and his time in Gaza. My sister and I both wept throughout the show.

He was a huge loss to Palestine and its resistance. I've never cried over a stranger before, but in the weeks after April 15th as I read more and more about him, bought his book (about the massacre in Gaza during Operation Cast Lead), and watched countless videos, it was clear that his larger than life personality, his love for Palestine, and his determination and steadfastness and absolute commitment to shedding light on the injustices Gazans suffer every day and his dreams of seeing a liberated Palestine left a deep mark in Palestine's history books. He wasn't just an activist, he was a Palestinian through and through.

I got a pleasant surprise, albeit tinged with sadness, when this recent graffiti of him adorned one of Ramallah's walls. His motto, Stay Human, is written in Italian "Restiamo Umani".

Restiamo Umani
كي تبقى الانسانية
Stay Human

Palestine Youth Voice in a Letter to Me

2011-06-21T00:44:00.000+03:00

I got the most touching letter after I wrote about my parents' undesired reaction to my partaking in protests from Anonymous, who represents the collective Palestinian activists. Emphasis is mine.

A Letter to Linah
In reply to her blog post: http://lifeonbirzeitcampus.blogspot.com/2011/06/unwanted-reaction-to-nabi-saleh.html

To Linah,

You’re part of us. We are part of you. Just wanted you to know that we all went through, and still do, the same with our parents. We understand the worries of our parents for their children. But our worry for Palestine is just greater. We understand very well that a lot of sacrifice has to be done. And we are ready to give these sacrifices. Our struggle is not for political solutions. Our struggle is for our rights. I for one have participated for the first time only in March 15. Not because I didn’t believe in the cause before that, but I just didn’t believe in the fruitless protests. I’ve been in hunger strike for 21 consecutive days (30 days in total) and slept on Al-Manara for more than 40 days. Not to get Hamas and Fateh to agree, but to unite the Palestinians here and in exile. That’s why our first demand was the PNC elections. The past 3 month of my life is more precious to me than the whole 25 years of my life. I met people that are the world to me. They’re not politicians they’re revolutionaries. The ladies who led the protests and the movement were an inspiration to me. I’ve witnessed first-hand the reason the word Freedom and the word resistance in Arabic are feminine.

We are still struggling. We see the light at the end of this dark tunnel. And we will reach there eventually. If we didn’t, having the honor of the attempt is enough for me. Other than the ladies, Abul Qasem El Shabbi was an inspiration to me. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AzdDMQLAo5w

I’m aware of all the opportunists around us. But I for one have taken the decision. I had two choices. One is to sit home go to my work get rich and my world would be revolved around me. Or the second was to stand up and make my world revolve around Palestine. I chose the second. I believe that the movement I’m part of now may not achieve our rights. But for the past 3 months I lived proud like I never did. I loved Palestine like I never did. And for the first time in my life, I don’t have dreams at night of what can I do to free Palestine. I’m living that dream. This is the first step. But I’m living it.

I’ve never loved in my life. So I was always shocked to see what people in love do. They go through useless hell to be together. My love is Palestine. And I’m willing to sacrifice everything for it. At the end, it’s not about how you die. It’s about how you live. If I ever had children, I would want them to talk about my actions to their peers, not repeat my words blindly.

Dear Linah, I was honored to meet you in Nabi Saleh. You showed extreme courage there. Hope to see you in front lines more. If I don’t, I know, we all know that our backs are safe with people like you.

Hopefully sooner rather than later we would be reminiscing about this in a free Palestine.

The belief is all I got now. I couldn’t convince my parents, but I surely live in peace with myself. If I die tomorrow, I will know that I have nothing to regret.

Stay safe and strong.

Sincerely,

A Palestinian

Posted by Palestine Youth Voice at 2:40 AM

Thank you. I can't find the words to express my gratitude for this letter, a simple thank you will barely suffice.