Call to Action: Support Hana al-Shalabi as her health declines 4 weeks into hunger strike in Israel jail

The parents of hunger-striking political prisoner Hana al-Shalabi have issued a call to all Palestinians to protest this weekend in support of their daughter who is on her 28th continuous day without food in protest at her detention without charge or trial by Israel:

“We call upon the Palestinian National Authority, the Palestinian national factions, and all Palestinians to take to the streets on Saturday, March 17 and to demonstrate in support of our daughter Hana Shalabi and all administrative detainees.

Pressure on the Palestinian street is imperative in achieving Hana’s immediate release, as well as support for her open hunger strike [that began on February 16, 2012]

We as Hana’s family continue to support her hunger strike, and we want to let our daughter know that we are with her in every step of her hunger strike until she achieves her immediate release from the Israeli occupation jails.

Finally, we call upon all administrative detainees to join Hana’s hunger strike until they achieve their own release and to put an end to the unjust Israeli policy of adminstrative detention, which violates human rights and international law.”

Sharply deteriorating health

Yesterday Physicians for Human Rights-Israel (PHRI) visited Hana and reported that her health had deteriorated significantly.

“The second doctor’s second examination on 12 March indicated an additional deterioration in Ms. Shalabi’s condition, shown mainly in advanced muscle atrophy and wasting, additional weight loss, a significant reduction in blood sugar, severe dizziness and severe muscle pain, especially in her chest and back.”

Hana was violently re-arrested by Israel on February 16th after her release in the first half of the Hamas-Israel prisoner deal in October. She had spent 25 months on administrative detention, without ever being informed of the reason of her detainment and with no charges brought against her. Her hunger strike is one for freedom and dignity, which began immediately as a result of being horribly mistreated during her last arrest, which included a forced strip search by a male soldier, beatings, and later solitary confinement. She is held in HaSharon prison.

Amnesty International reiterates urgent concern

Amnesty International reiterated its concern for Hana al-Shalabi’s condition following the examination by PHRI doctors. Earlier this month, Amnesty issued an urgent action alert calling on people to contact authorities to demand Israel release Hana al-Shalabi and other so-called “administrative detainees” held without charge or trial by proper international standards.

Background on Hana al-Shalabi

Background from Addameer

“On 23 February 2012 Ms. Hana Shalabi was given an administrative detention order for six months. On 29 February there was a discussion regarding her detention in Ofer military court. On 4 March the military court decided to reduce the detention period from six to four months, but without promising not to extend or renew it. As a result, Ms. Hana Shalabi announced she would continue to hunger strike until her release. On 7 March, an appeal hearing regarding the court’s decision was held at Ofer, and the military judge ordered the parties to try and reach a compromise by Sunday 11 March, but an agreement has not yet been reached.

Administrative detainees’ protests are growing. Two additional administrative detainees, Bilal Diab and Thair Halahleh declared hunger strikes on 1 March, which they claim will continue until their release from administrative detention. On 3 March, two other administrative detainees declared hunger strikes until their release. Since the beginning of March, a number of administrative detainees have refused to acknowledge the military court and refused to participate in legal discussions of their cases. Due to Israel’s use of administrative detention, and the unwillingness of the military court to interfere in this practice, a hunger strike serves as a non-violent and sole tool available to administrative detainees to protest and fight for their basic human rights.

Approximately 310 Palestinians are currently held in administrative detention in Israeli prisons. Administrative detention allows Israel to hold detainees for indefinitely renewable six-month periods. The arrest is granted on the basis of “secret information” and without a public indictment. Therefore, administrative detainees and their lawyers cannot defend against these allegations in court.”

February 21st General Strike in Solidarity with Khader Adnan

As posted on Electronic Intifada



Following up on a call by a Hebron-based blogger for Tuesday, February 21st to be a general strike throughout Palestine, students from Nablus’ An-Najah University have compiled the video above to assert that the strike will take place.

Translated below is most of the post:

In light of this frenzied competition [between the illegitimate Palestinian governments in the West Bank and Gaza Strip] the prisoner Khader Adnan has entered his 63rd day of hunger strike, and is at risk of dying as a martyr due to the severe deterioration of his health and the official Palestinian governments’ neglect of his case…

How long will silence be the master of this situation? Our silence is enough! Are we not able to announce a general strike for one day in solidarity with Khader Adnan and all the freedom fighters in Israeli jails?

I believe we are able to cause the Palestinian street to act and to make Tuesday 21st 2012 a day of general strike. All we have to do is pass on the message to biggest number of people and influential media stations outside the scope of social media. It is time to scream outside the walls of Facebook and Twitter, to pass on this message…it is the least we can do.

In addition to solidarity with Khader Adnan, the goal of the strike is to pressure both Fateh and Hamas, as well as the media, to intervene and save his life and the lives of thousands of other prisoners.

Ola Tamimi (no relation to the Tamimis in the village of Nabi Saleh) was fed up with the sporadic protests and lack of concrete actions that excluded the majority of ordinary Palestinians.

“I decided to call for a general strike because we need to do something effective, away from social media,” she told me. “Khader Adnan has been on hunger strike for 65 days now. We ought to be ashamed of ourselves for not undertaking more prominent actions.

Since [the youth movement] March 15th, it became clear that there is a gap between the efforts of activists on social media and the Palestinian street, which is concerned primarily with their own daily lives.

The idea behind the blog post was to break out of the Facebook and Twitter confines…for actions to translate successfully on the ground. We have to work towards making our statements, our online activities accessible to the street.

On Saturday, after I came up with the idea, I printed out flyers and gave them to the neighborhood kids to pass out. It’s a good tactic; they came back after an hour empty-handed.

I’d consider it a big achievement if the general strike takes place, even if it’s just for two hours [12-2pm]. I only care about if people are convinced with the idea behind the strike. If the store owner is convinced then what’s the point of having an official government statement? During the intifadas, people used to act as a collective whole without waiting for the government’s decision or an announcement.

The most important thing is to break the fear barrier that people have that prevents them from protesting in the streets. For example, people in Hebron are scared to protest because of the previous experiences they’ve had with the Palestinian Authority. It’s the same everywhere. People have reached a state of depression, but it’s imperative that we keep on trying.”

As Khader Adnan enters his 66th day of hunger strike, protests are expected to take place at the central squares in the cities and towns in the West Bank (and hopefully Gaza), the same day that Israeli High Court hearing for his case will be held in Jerusalem, at 3pm.

My Hunger Strike in Solidarity with Khader Adnan

On February 8th, a worldwide hunger strike was called for on Twitter in support of Palestinian prisoner Khader Adnan, who was on his 53rd day of hunger strike. “My dignity is more precious than my food.” This was his declaration, after he was arrested in front of his pregnant wife and two young daughters at 3:30 am. After he was beaten up inside the Israeli jeep on the way to the detention center. After his gastric disc problems were ignored. After Israeli interrogators smeared dirt from their shoes on his beard. After they obscenely insulted his wife, mother, and two daughters graphically. After he was tortured and placed in painful stress positions. After he was placed in isolation.

All of this, and no charges were brought up against Khader Adnan. He was given four months of administrative detention, subject to being renewed anytime and for any period of time for no reason at all.

Tonight he is entering his 60th day of hunger strike.

I decided on Thursday, after the Twitter hashtag of #Feb9hungerstrike that I too would go on hunger strike, to really know what it feels like to be in solidarity with one who had been doing it for almost two months. My experiences are below.

2nd Day

On Friday I went to the village of Qaryout for its second protest under the popular struggle umbrella. This post here sums up the experience pretty well. The men of the village were very courteous and natural with me and my other two comrades, the only three Palestinian women to join their protest. In other words, no sexism!

Toward the end of the protest, where it became obvious that we couldn't pass through to plant trees in the stolen land as armed settlers added to the presence of the Israeli army, we began turning back to the village. A car was available, and my two comrades gratefully climbed in, but I wouldn't, out of sheer stubbornness. I didn't feel like I still had something to prove to the village men around me, but still. That wasn't the wisest decision to make. The situation in Qaryout is potentially volatile. The protesters are in the valley, with armed settlers on the hill on our left side edging closer to us. The Israeli army is in front of us. One small mistake, one tiny calculated action, and mayhem would ensue, no doubt leaving behind a bloodbath.

As it happened, that day one settler threw a rock at us. The protesters responded back with more rocks, which gave the Israeli army an excuse to tear gas the hell out of us, which in theory would provide perfect cover for the settlers to aim and shoot at us.

One of the men, Adham grabbed my arm as we fled to the other hill on our right. As we climbed the enormous hill. I vaguely realized I wasn't supposed to exert myself physically. I felt disconnected, my head and body two separate entities. I wasn't really aware of what was going on around me, and was only half listening to Adham.

"Watch out, you have to look where the canisters are falling...no, come this way quick before the gas gets to us..up, up quickly. Watch out! Don't slip!"

I looked up and was surprised at the clouds of toxic gas around us. I suddenly wanted to give up. What was the point anyway? I couldn't feel myself. All I wanted to do was just lie down on some green grass away from the mud and thorny bushes. Adham yanked my arm sharply and I began to focus again. I was so tired.

"I swear to God Linah, you're worth ten men," Adham said.
"Not 100?" I gasped as I ignored his outstretched hand and climbed over another rocky ledge.
"That too. Listen, when we get back to the village you're all having dinner at my mother's place."
"I'm fasting."
"Are you on hunger strike?"
"You're a quick one. Yes."
"You're not supposed to be on one if you're protesting. You're crazy."
"I'm exhausted."
"Just a little bit more, we've almost reached the trail."
I had a couple sips of coffee that morning. I forgot myself and also ate a few sunflower seeds one of the village boys tipped in my outstretched hand earlier that day.

After Qaryout, back to Ramallah, I went with one of my friends to the Red Cross building. We stood outside in the freezing cold holding up posters of Khader Adnan, with a fire burning in a grill someone had procured from somewhere, before ascertaining that a protest at 1pm the next day will take place in front of Ofer/Betunia prison.

3rd Day

Biochemistry lecturer at Birzeit University Munir Nasser said a build-up of acids would result in Adnan loosing his sight, and eventual kidney failure and coma.

Health expert Dr. Amr al-Hussaini said his body would be vulnerable to infection as his immune system lost protein, while Al-Azhar University nutritionist Dr. Samir Radi warned Adnan's heart muscles could hypertrophy, leading to his death.

I woke up on the third day with my head swimming. I stayed in bed for fifteen more minutes, before I finally got up and began getting ready for work. Oh Jesus, I don’t think I can last the day. My legs were shaking and I had to sit back down again because they wouldn’t support my weight. Before I left the house, I stuffed a mini Snickers bar in my bag and some pastries stuffed with white cheese and za’atar my neighbor must have sent down. Just in case. If I felt like I couldn’t last through the day, then at noon I’d break my hunger strike. I was simultaneously angry and ashamed at myself. Barely three days and already I was succumbing to the pathetic whining of a weakling. What is 3 days compared 56 days?

At work, I kept busy and was only reminded of my empty stomach whenever I got up to walk around the office. I stared at my legs, willing them to stop shaking. The hours passed without incident and I felt good again. It was past noon and I was due to meet my mother at the taxi depot so we could go to Betunia/Ofer prison.

After a few terse phone calls (Mama doesn’t like to be kept waiting) I made my way to the taxis. During the ride, Mama echoed what I was thinking: “I hope there will be a lot of people there, مش قردين و حارس"

We got out of the taxi, and watched the clouds of tear gas and smoke from a burning tire rise through the air.
“They’ve already started with their fuckery?” Mama shook her head. [She didn’t say the word ‘fuckery’-that was my own translation of her G rated version of the word.]
We walked a few steps forward. Young men and women, mostly students from Birzeit University, were clustered on the sidewalks and the street, bending over coughing and wheezing from the tear gas they had just run from.
One girl came up to us and offered strips of alcohol.
“Do you know how many injuries there are?” I asked.
“Three so far. I have to find Fadel.” She left.
Mama and I took another few steps forward. The wind blew the remnants of tear gas from the last canister fired by the Israeli Border Police, standing like buffoons a hundred meters away.
“Iffee!” Mama raised her scarf to cover her nose. I tied her shawl around her lower face.
“Keep it up,” I ordered.

There were shabab near the Border Police who were throwing rocks at them, hiding behind trash cans. Another trash can whizzed past us, with the three young men behind it shouting cheerfully at everyone to get out the way. Tear gas canisters were fired again. We watched their course as they traveled up in the air before it became clear they were falling down on where we stood. We hurried back to where stacks of wooden crates shielded us and pressed up against the wall.
It went on like that for a bit. We’d advance, then retreat. Even when we weren’t advancing, just standing where we were, shots would still ring out. Rubber bullets now joined the tear gas canisters.

After a quiet lull, a different girl looked at me and said, “Let’s start chanting.”
I shrugged. “Ok. Get other people to gather around.”
“من بير زيت اعلناها/حضر نجمة بسماها!
نعم للجوع/ لا للركوع!"

We went further down the street, Mama treading on my feet.
“They know what they’re doing,” she hissed in my ear. “They want us to get closer and closer to them before they fire tear gas at us again.”
Sure enough, the rain of toxic gas began again. And this time we had no time to run as the canisters hit the ground all around our feet. Everyone began running, their backs to the Border Police who were still shooting tear gas, but that was the biggest mistake an amateur protester could make. You had to look to see where the canisters were falling, not run away blindly.
“Where do I go!” Mama gasped, her face buried in her shawl as the tear gas engulfed us.
I grabbed her arm and looked over my shoulder. “Just keep running.”
“Where!”
“Forward!”
“I can’t breathe!”
“Hold your breath and keep running!”

The dizziness was back. It wasn’t the effect of tear gas. We made it to some field, hidden from the view of the Border Police. The ground was rich and extremely muddy. I made Mama sit on a rock and shoved alcohol strips under her nose. Guys were lying on the ground choking and gasping for breath, their tears mixing with great rivulets of mucus streaming down their faces. One guy came over and gave half of his cotton swab which was doused with stronger alcohol to Mama. People were shouting from the street and across the field.
“Are you ok Hajjeh?”
“Do you need anything Auntie?”
“Aunt, do you need a medic?”

The last experience Mama had with tear gas was three years ago, during a protest one Friday in January. The Palestinian Authority security forces descended on protesters who were chanting for their terrorized and massacred brethren in Gaza, and tear gassed them in addition to beating them up. She came home that day with my older brother, shell-shocked expressions on their faces, their clothes absolutely reeking of gas.

I looked around me. Rubber bullets were still being fired. One guy close to us groaned.
“The villagers of Nabi Saleh are so damn lucky,” he half coughed half laughed. “They’re immune to this shit. They have it for breakfast, dinner, and supper. Ahh wallah I have to go there next Friday so I can get used to tear gas.”

We left the field and were back on the street again. Mama was a good distance behind me, the poor thing. She said she had a huge headache. “Don’t get too close,” she warned.

I wanted to pinch her cheeks. She really should come to Nabi Saleh.

Suddenly, more rubber bullets were fired. I crouched behind a metal pole with others as the bullets ricocheted off the pole with metallic whines. We waited it out. By God we were going to have a protest here, to hammer home the point of why we were getting shot at and why the shabab were throwing rocks. I chanted,
يا خضر يا بطل| انت رمز المعتقل!
تحيتنا بحرارة| لاسرانا النوارة

My head felt like it was going to explode. I felt like I had just ran a marathon, and my body was shaking again. After a few more rounds of tear gas, I made the first correct decision that day and quietly slinked back to the gas station where Mama was standing, and we went back to Ramallah, where oblivious people continued went about with their illusions of a proper life, made all the more exciting with the recent opening of a new KFC chain.

"I started my battle offering my soul to God almighty and adamant to go ahead until righteousness triumphs over falsehood.I am defending my dignity and my people’s dignity and not doing this in vain.

"The Israeli occupation has gone to extremes against our people, especially prisoners. I have been humiliated, beaten, and harassed by interrogators for no reason, and thus I swore to God I would fight the policy of administrative detention to which I and hundreds of my fellow prisoners fell prey."

At home, I went straight to my bed before I could collapse on my feet. I lay down on my back and let my thoughts travel. My legs and right arm are not shackled. I haven’t been humiliated or placed in torturous stress positions. What a man Khader Adnan is. To possess even an ounce of his iron-willed resolve…I remembered the short clip on TV of him playing with his daughter, whose peals of laughter made me smile. She shouldn’t become an orphan at the age of four. My sister came in the room and raised her eyebrows.

“You’re still on hunger strike?!”
“Yeah, so bring me my laptop since I can’t move,” I said in an exaggerated weak voice.
“Get it yourself!” She obviously didn’t fall for it. Then, “Don’t you get hungry?”
“No, just dizzy.”
“That’s how I felt on Thursday. My legs were shaking.”
“Mine too, sometimes.”
“Imagine not having enough clothes to stay warm.”
“Ya haram.”
“Imagine not showering or taking a bath for 55 days.”
“I could do that. Imagine not changing your underwear for 55 days.”
“Mine would dissolve.”
We paused.
“You’re so disgusting!” I shouted as we both laughed our heads off. (I omitted the subsequent conversation on dissolving underwears for obvious reasons. And in the moment of comic relief, I should include that my sister, unlike me, still represents hope in securing marriage in the future so there’d be no use in tarnishing her reputation.)

Later that night, my mother found out I hadn't been eating for the past three days. "I don't care what you do anymore. It's not like you listen to me anyway. But you have to drink something ya habla. Even he drinks water." She sighed waspishly when I didn't reply.

I have so much respect for Khader Adnan. I have so much rage for the international community's complicit silence.

After midnight, my light-headed self drank water and had a bowl of cereal. I didn't gorge myself, but I still felt sick. It's been two days now but I still drink more liquids than food.

Khader Adnan is entering his 60th day on hunger strike. He has refused food since December 18th. He is staring death straight in the face. Tomorrow, Wednesday February 15th is a national hunger strike day for Palestinians that we will hope will spread to the wider world.

"It is time the international community and the UN support prisoners and force the State of Israel to respect international human rights and stop treating prisoners as if they were not humans.”

Khader Adnan. Palestine's living martyr. In the name of dignity, in the name of freedom, in the name of justice, you reminded us again what resistance is.

Interview with Injured French Activist in Nabi Saleh

On Friday February the 3rd during the weekly popular resistance protests in the West Bank village of Nabi Saleh, Israeli border police fired tear gas canisters at head level directly at a group of unarmed protesters who were perhaps 25 to 30 meters away from the border police and who were merely chanting, nothing more. It should be noted that the border police are known for their vicious disproportionate and violent reactions to these kinds of protests, more so than the army itself. One tear gas canister lightly grazed the cheek of a Palestinian female protester, before hitting a French activist in the back of her head and, still propelled by its velocity, continued its course to hit a Dutch activist in his waist.

The video above, shot by local activist Nariman Tamimi, clearly captures the moment and leaves no room for doubt as to what hit the French activist, contrary to the lies emitted from the IDF spokesperson and other Israeli officials on Twitter who initially and outrageously claimed that the activist was injured from a rock thrown by a Palestinian.

Firing tear gas canisters at high velocity directly at unarmed protesters has become the staple of the Israeli army’s reaction in popular resistance protests. Two months ago, Nabi Saleh resident 28 year old Mustafa Tamimi was killed after an Israeli soldier opened the back door of the armored jeep and shot a tear gas canister at Mustafa’s face from a distance of three meters. The army has paid lip service to conducting its own investigation within the incident, which if carried out will be anything but impartial.

Today I sat down with the French activist, 20 year old Amicie P. and her Palestinian fiancé Aram S. to discuss the details of the actions that took place yesterday. The injury seemed pretty serious at first, owing to the fact that there was a large amount of blood, so it was a huge relief to see Amicie sitting next to me casually smoking cigarette after cigarette with a bandage swathed around her head.

Do you remember the moments right before the Israeli border police fired at us?

Amicie: “I was discussing with Diederik [the Dutch activist who was injured in his waist] about when we were going to leave to Ramallah. We agreed to stay for five more minutes. I wasn’t aware of when I got shot. I just felt something hit my head. It hurt me so much. I fell down and couldn’t seem to get up. People were carrying me because I wasn’t able to stand on my feet and the Israeli [border police] were still shooting at us. I wasn’t able to run. The medic Muhanad Saleem was screaming at them to stop shooting.

“I was really so afraid. I didn’t know if my injury was serious or not. I saw a lot of blood and thought of Mustafa and how he was killed in December.”

Aram: “I have asthma. I inhaled a lot of tear gas and couldn’t think clearly. I tried to help her then found myself away from her. I went mad when I heard that she was taken to one of the Israeli jeeps but it turned out that that didn’t actually happen. I was afraid they were going to deport her because she didn’t have her passport with her.”

Amicie: “The soldier asked if I were Palestinian. They wanted to take me inside one of the jeeps. They were shocked when they found out I was French. One of the soldiers panicked and took me behind from where the rest of the soldiers were standing, behind a jeep. I didn’t know if he wanted to arrest me or not but he wanted me to go inside the jeep.”

Did the soldiers try to treat you?

Amicie: “The soldiers tried to help me while I was waiting for the ambulance to come. They put some sort of liquid on my head—I think it was water—then tied a bandage on the wound. I was lying on the ground and was really scared because the soldiers were all around me looking down at me and holding their guns. They told me I was hit by a rock thrown by a Palestinian. It’s crazy because it’s so obvious that I wasn’t.

“When I was in the ambulance one soldier kept opening the door to ask for my full name, many times. The soldiers were talking about how I wasn’t a Palestinian but French. I didn’t have my passport with me, so I only gave them my first name. I wasn’t treated inside the ambulance.”

You were taken to Ramallah Hospital. What happened there?

Amicie: “I stayed at the hospital for only an hour. They took an x-ray of my head and stitched the wound up. I have to go back in another week for a check-up, and I might get the stitches removed by then.”

Amicie studies political science at the University Po Lyon back in France. As part of the program, students have to spend one year living and studying abroad in a foreign country. As her specialty is Middle East politics, Amicie came to Palestine August 1st 2011, where she enrolled in the Palestinian and Arabic Studies program at Birzeit University. Her visa expires in two weeks and she plans on going to France before coming back to Ramallah. She’s worried that in light of what happened on Friday she won’t or at the very least face a lot of trouble getting back in. When I asked her if she wanted to file a complaint against the Israeli army (or something similar) she expressed her frustration to me:

“I really want to do something but I don’t know what. It’s great for media attention because I am French, an international but at the same time I don’t want to have future troubles with my visa.”

Has any of the international media gotten in touch with you?

“Only the French ones, like Rue89, radio network Europe1, TF1, Le Nouvel Observateur.”

What was the reaction of your parents back in Lille?

Amicie: “My mother was really shocked. She said I shouldn’t go to any more protests, because my injury could have been worse. The French consulate called me yesterday evening to tell me that some newspapers would be getting in touch with me, so it would be better for me if I told my family beforehand.”

Amicie met Aram at the UN bid for statehood rally in Ramallah back in September (“The two state solution is impossible,” she slipped in.) The two have attended other demonstrations in the city, but this was their first experience in a village involved with the popular struggle.

Says Aram: “I’m so proud to know the people of Nabi Saleh. I can’t find the right words to describe the people; they’re so amazing. I didn’t feel like I was in a stranger’s home. They welcomed us and were so helpful. I felt like I was in my parent’ home. I want to go back and see them again, especially this old woman.”

Amicie: “It’s really impressive to see how the villagers live like that every day. The demonstrations are dangerous but that doesn’t stop the children from participating. The Israeli army’s response yesterday was really aggressive.”

Would you attend another Nabi Saleh protest?

Amicie: [laughs.] “Maybe not this Friday. I’d like to, but I feel frightened after what happened to me.”

Aram: “I’d go to another protest, but not with her. I don’t want to experience the feeling of almost losing her again. That feeling of 10, 12 minutes of not knowing whether she was going to be okay or not…I saw her kuffiyeh, all red from her blood. It’s crazy.”

Amicie: “It’s crazy the Israeli army shoots right at the people. Crazy that they’re still doing that after what happened to Mustafa. In demonstrations in France, the tear gas is normally shot at the ground so it’s not dangerous.”

How do you see the situation in Palestine in five years time?

Amicie: “In Nabi Saleh…I’d see the situation getting worse. I’m sorry, I know you wanted to end this on a positive note, but I’m pessimistic about these kinds of things. I feel like the majority of Palestinians don’t even care anymore [about resisting the occupation.]

Aram: “It’s because people owe the banks a lot of money. Salam Fayyad’s [state-building] policy has changed Palestinian society for worse. Everyone is now into their own selves. We weren’t like this five years ago. After the experience in Nabi Saleh…I feel like Ramallah and Nabi Saleh are two different countries, even though they’re only twenty minutes away from each other!”

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

As posted on Electronic Intifada

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

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.

Follow Up Protest for #No2Negotiations

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.

Palestinians for Dignity: Saeb Erekat, Go Home

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

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

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!

An Israeli Soldier Cares For My Safety

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.

Freedom Rides in the 21st Century

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

The Recurring Let Down of Ramallah Protests

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.