It's
official. I am a terrorist. I am a twenty six year old British
Muslim woman. I have spent two weeks in Nablus, Palestine as a
volunteer with the International Solidarity Movement. The International
Solidarity Movement (ISM) is an organisation that calls for non-violent
direct action to show solidarity with the Palestinian people.
The Israeli army website refers to international volunteers such
as myself as 'terror tourists.' We are viewed as being the enemy
along with two million Palestinian civilians in the West Bank
who are under Israeli curfew.
'Terror
tourists' come in all shapes and sizes, nationalities and ages.
It's a near impossible task to profile one unless they carry an
Italian passport. Five hundred Italians were turned back by the
Israelis recently, they were planning to volunteer with the ISM.
I spent two weeks with Americans, Canadians, British, Norwegians,
Danish and Japanese 'terrorists.' It was one of the most amazing
experiences of my life.
Nablus
is the biggest city in the West Bank. It's been invaded twice
by the Israeli army. During the first invasion in April, three
hundred tanks invaded the city. The Mosque in the old city was
converted into a medical centre to treat the injured and sick.
One paramedic that I spoke to told me how he worked for three
days solid treating the injured civilians and the sick. Hashim,
a young man with sad eyes, described how ten of his friends were
killed by the army on the first day of the invasion and how he
didn't have the energy to cry for the dead.
The Israeli
army invaded Nablus again in mid June, one week before I was due
to fly out to Palestine. My family tried to talk me out of going,
but I told them that it was too late; my flight had been booked
and that I had made up my mind that I was going. My father seemed
quite calm and told me that I had very little chance of getting
into the country, as the Israeli's didn't need tourists like me.
Seems like he was on the same wavelength as the Israeli army.
Nablus
has a population of 120,000 people, all of whom are under curfew
twenty-four hours a day. The schools, universities, shops and
factories have been forced to close because of the curfew. Students
who have spent eleven years working towards their exams are now
forced to play the waiting game with the army. When they leave
the city the students may be able to take their exams. But they
could be in for a long wait. The Israeli government has announced
that their 'operations' in the West Bank are set to continue for
the next six months while the army build a fence to separate the
West Bank from Israel.
I spent
much of my time volunteering with the Palestinian Red Crescent
Society(PRCS) taking patients to hospital . The ambulances are
the only thing that move in the city that is under curfew twenty-four
hours a day. The ambulance drivers are continually stopped and
harassed. The drivers and paramedics are often strip-searched.
One young paramedic was taken inside a tank and made to strip
in front of nine soldiers. They told him that they were looking
for explosives. When they found nothing they told him that he
could leave and reminded him that he would never be their (soldiers’)
friend. Working with the paramedics was an amazing and eye opening
experience. The first time I faced a tank was less than two hours
after being in Nablus. My legs turned to jelly when the barrel
of the tank turned to face the windscreen of the ambulance. I
began to question what the hell I was doing in Palestine and if
I was up to volunteering with the ambulances. The ambulances that
I traveled in were regularly stopped and searched. Patients were
made to wait in the heat whilst their ID's were checked and the
ambulances were searched for 'bombs'.
I began
to adopt different strategies when it came to dealing with the
soldiers. Sometimes I would engage with them, it was my way of
showing them that I wasn't scared of them. I would ask them why
they were doing what they were doing. If I was met with a stony
face and silence I would keep my mouth shut and just stare at
them.
Whilst
working with the ambulances I saw how those guns and tanks are
used against the civilian population of Nablus . We were called
out to see a ten-year-old girl who had been shot in the side of
her stomach because she had been looking out of her window. She
had two bullet wounds, entrance and exit. The paramedics had been
called out to re-dress her bandages. When the little girl saw
her wounds she began to scream. Her father calmed her down and
wiped her tears. Once the paramedics had finished with her she
got up unaided and insisted that she would walk out of the ambulance
alone. One night we were called out to the old city to attend
to an old man who must have been in his seventies. He had seven
gun shot wounds to his body. I don't know why he was shot. When
the ambulance arrived we were hurriedly ushered in to the house
and were told that soldiers had occupied the house opposite and
that there were snipers on the roof. The paramedics patched him
up as best they could and then we left to go on our next job.
Every
day the ambulance drivers risk their lives to take care of the
sick. They feel passionately about helping their people and when
they can't get to a patient because of the checkpoints and harassment
they get very frustrated and angry. I was told about one paramedic
who was arrested by the army, they accused him of being a suicide
bomber. He was taken to an army base and his ambulance, which
was fitted with special equipment for premature babies, was seized
by the army. That was three months ago, no one has seen the paramedic
or the ambulance since. His wife and children don't know if he's
alive or dead.
The Palestinian
Red Crescent Society has one hundred ambulances that operate across
the West Bank, taking care of two million people. Two years ago
forty-five ambulances were donated to the PRCS, but they never
reached the organisation. Instead the ambulances were seized by
the Israelis and are stationed at the borders of Jordan, Egypt
and the port of Haifa in Israel. The manager of the PRCS has been
told that the ambulances are being checked for 'bombs' by the
army.
One night
Khalid and Sohail, two of the paramedics that I was working with
asked me if I would go on a job with them. 'We have to go to the
army base in Huwara, to collect some bodies ...are you sure you
want to go?' Khalid asked. Once in the ambulance Sohail explained
that the bodies were of two shaheeds (martyrs) who had been killed
earlier in the day. They were members of Hamas and one of them
was the leader. We drove in silence through the streets of Nablus,
when out of the bushes soldiers appeared with guns. Khalid stopped
the ambulance and waited. The soldiers began shouting. Khalid
switched off the engine and we sat still waiting for the soldiers
to approach us. They told Sohail to get out of the ambulance,
he climbed out and told them that we were expected at the army
base to collect the bodies of the two militants. The soldiers
told us that we would have to use a different route as the road
was closed. So we turned the ambulance around and took another
route to get to Huwara.
When
we arrived at the base we were faced by seven soldiers who began
to load their guns and point them in our direction. There was
an ambulance waiting with the bodies of the two dead men. Khalid
and Sohail began to prepare the stretchers so that they could
transfer the bodies on to them. I helped them as much as I could.
The soldiers told Khalid and Sohail that they could take the bodies
out of the Israeli ambulance and into the PRCS ambulance. They
pulled the first body off the stretcher and on to the ground.
The dead man, the leader of Hamas was wrapped in a white body
bag with the Star of David on it. When I saw that body bag with
the Star of David on it, something inside me snapped. I don't
know what happened but I became very angry. I know that the two
dead men were 'military' targets for the Israeli army. But they
were dead. The army had got what they wanted when they had killed
them. They had their trophies. Was it really necessary to put
this dead man, a Muslim man in a body bag with the Star of David
on it?
In a
bid to stay calm and as an act of defiance I began to babble at
the soldier nearest to me, firing lots of questions at him. I
began by asking him how they had killed the leader of Hamas- and
asked for specifics. The soldier was startled that I wanted the
details and asked me where I was from. He then gave me the low
down on how the man had been shot many times and his arms and
legs were no longer attached to the rest of his body. I asked
him why he had been put in the body bag with the Star of David
on it. The soldier had nothing to say, just shuffled his feet.
Khalid and Sohail looked up at me briefly and all three of us
made eye contact. I pointed to the other dead man who had been
wrapped in a blanket. 'And what about him? What did you do to
him?' I asked. 'Him' he said pointing in the direction of the
blanket with his gun 'we threw bombs at him' he replied. 'So you
fried him'? I asked. He stared at me for a few seconds and then
nodded 'yes'. Once the bodies were in the ambulance and the doors
had been closed, the soldier told me to 'have a nice day' and
then watched us drive out of the camp.
On the
way to the hospital, Khalid told me that one reason why the leader
of Hamas had been targeted was because he had been responsible
for killing the commander who was in charge of operations in Jenin
camp in April. We drove to the hospital in the same way that we
had to Huwara, in total silence. Once we reached the hospital,
the doctors, pathologists and porters were all waiting for us.
I sat outside while the stretchers were taken inside the hospital.
Khalid came out and told me that he didn't want me to look at
the bodies. He looked sad and tired. 'This is crazy. This will
cause big problems for Israel'. He sat down and lit a cigarette.
Everyone
inside the hospital was just as depressed as Khalid. I told Khalid
that I wanted to see the bodies, that I had come to Palestine
to see what was happening to people and to learn. 'But they are
in a bad way, it's not good,' Khalid told me as he dragged on
his cigarette. The pathologist, who I had seen many times before
came outside and told me that it was up to me, but he would show
me the bodies if I wanted to see them. I followed him into the
hospital took to where the two bodies were. The pathologist asked
the porter to lift the sheets that were covering the bodies. What
I saw will stay with me forever.
Asides
from working with the PRCS as an International volunteer I participated
in demonstrations against the illegal occupation of Palestine
and the curfew of Nablus. The demonstrations were amazing and
really boosted the moral of the people and the volunteers. We
managed to get coverage on CNN which made the people of Nablus
smile. Here were the people of Nablus, under house arrest twenty-four
hours a day marching on the streets of the old city demanding
justice, freedom and peace.
As internationals
we spent most of out time as observers, documenting human rights
violations and collecting data to send to human rights organisations
and other agencies. We walked for hours to get to villages around
Nablus that had been occupied by soldiers. As we approached one
house we were met with gun shots, a tactic that is often used
to scare people. I can tell you now, it works. We stopped and
put our hands in the air with our passports firmly clenched. Ray,
an American volunteer, shouted out to the soldiers to tell them
that we had come to talk to them and that we had come in peace.
The soldiers told us to go away and that we should leave. We stood
our ground and waited for a few minutes. Ray continued to shout
towards the soldiers telling them why we were here. Eventually
they agreed that two of us could go and talk to them. A Palestinian
woman, her daughter and her grandson stood with us as we watched
Ray and Siama walk towards the soldiers. The young Palestinian
woman turned around and pleaded with us 'please let me go too.'
'No. You must stay here, please stay here,' Susan, another American
volunteer responded. 'But that's my home' the woman replied. We
all stood in silence and looked to the ground. She was right.
That was her home. Her home where she lived with her child, her
mother and her family. Her home that she had worked hard for.
Her home that was a place where she had felt secure and happy.
Now it had been taken over by the army and she had to flee along
with her child and family to a friend’s house. She didn't
even have time to take clothes and toys for her son who was holding
on to his mother’s hand as she stood next to us fighting
back tears. Ray shouted back and told us that the soldiers had
said that the woman could go into the house to collect a few clothes
and belongings for her son. The young woman's mothers stepped
forward and said that she would go instead. We watched as she
made her way into the house. Siama told us afterwards that she
could hear the woman howling at the top of her voice. She asked
the soldier what was going on and demanded to be let inside to
know if the woman was ok. The soldier told her that it was ok,
the woman was upset because of the damage done to her house by
the soldiers.
When the woman walked out of the house, she was sobbing and carrying
a bag of clothes and a few toys. She walked towards us slowly
as her daughter went to help her. She handed over the bag and
then sat by the side of the road and wept. I had to swallow hard
and fought back my tears. Susan and I looked at one another and
took a deep breath. I so wanted to say something to the woman,
something that would make her feel better. But there were no words
that I could use that would make her feel better, make those soldiers
leave her home and her land. No words. I walked over to her and
gave her my bottle of mineral water. Then I helped her get up
and hugged her. That was all I could do. Her daughter was also
crying as her son looked on. I held her hand and told her that
she had to stay strong…my voice was cracking, I was finding
it hard to follow my own advice.
We walked
back to the house were they were staying. Walking beside the young
woman, I told her I was sorry that I couldn't do anything to help,
but that she had to believe me, that thousands of people around
the world cared about what was happening to her and her family
and millions like her and that was why we were here, so that we
could see with our own eyes what was happening and tell others.
'I know that the people are good' she sobbed. 'It's the government's,
the Americans and the British governments. Why do they watch as
they kill us and take our homes?' Once again I was left wondering
what I could say to her. I hugged her and kissed her goodbye and
told her that I would never forget her or her mother. Or the people
of Nablus and Palestine. Never.
