“ISM
volunteers arrived in Nablus 14 days ago, three days after the
city had been invaded. It has been 17 days since the Israeli army
re-invaded the city of Nablus and its four refugee camps. Two
hundred thousand residents of Nablus and its suburbs have been
imprisoned in their houses, as the military has imposed a strict
24-hour curfew. Palestinians who venture into the streets are
risking their lives, as they can be shot on sight by patrolling
tanks.
ISM volunteers
have been playing a number of roles in the city: staying in refugee
camps, in the homes of residents who are being targeted by the
Israeli army and whose homes may be demolished at any time; riding
in ambulances and accompanying the doctors and drivers as they
continue the only social service that is functioning currently;
organizing demonstrations with Palestinians to break the curfew
and monitoring the occupied houses.
The Israeli
Defensive Forces (IDF) have launched a campaign of mass arrests,
through which hundreds of Palestinians have been detained and
arrested. ISM volunteers in ambulances witnessed armored personal
carriers (APC) and jeeps rounding up many men in recent nights.
ISM volunteers
have been monitoring and visiting the nearly 20 residential buildings
that have been occupied by the soldiers and turned into permanent
military posts. Most houses are located in strategic locations
on the hills of Nablus and are currently serving as mini-military
bases within the city. The IDF has taken the top floor of a number
of these buildings and has forced families into the lower levels,
using M-16s to block any movement within the building. Children
and families are not only imprisoned in their homes, but are also
used as human shields---the logic being that the presence of Palestinians
will protect soldiers from any attack.
Education,
healthcare and social systems have been brought to a standstill.
Women, children and men have been deprived of a normal human life,
as the Israeli army has vandalized the streets of the city, terrorizing
people and dehumanizing them. The economic and social life of
the city's population has been severely disrupted and Palestinian
infrastructure has been badly damaged.
Nablus has been completely cut off from all surrounding villages
and each and every main road has been bulldozed, not only severely
damaging the paved roads, but also creating 3-5 ft (2-3 m) barriers
which block all access to villages, and to the West Bank. ISM
volunteers have seen the areas which have been bulldozed and the
sewage pipes which have also frequently been cut; raw sewage drains
currently into at least two surrounding neighbourhoods, posing
a serious health threat to inhabitants.
We believe
that the Israeli government, through such measures, is destroying
the last hope for peace in the region. The situation in our country
is catastrophic. The level of suffering and deprivation is dramatically
deepening. The need for international protection for Palestinian
civilians represents a necessary step.”
From
Susan:
I arrived in Palestine almost a month ago and spent the first
week in Jerusalem; I was present during the two suicide bombings
and awaited Israel’s “retaliation” along with
millions of Palestinians. The Israeli Defensive Forces (IDF) began
invading and closing every single city in the West Bank (Ramallah,
Tulkarm, Hebron, Bethlehem, Qalqilya, Jenin, and Nablus) the next
morning.
This
invasion is less severe than the April one, but it is only because
of the truly catastrophic level of damage done previously. Less
severe means that the shooting does cease at times, that someone
or a few are injured or killed each day instead of dozens, and
that the mass arrests round up fewer men, because fewer men remain.
It means that perhaps 70-80 tanks wander the streets of Nablus
as opposed to 200+, that ambulance drivers get stopped, harassed,
and made to stand in the sun for hours instead of being shot at,
and that the apache helicopters have been spotted habitually,
not daily. The very sad thing is that I think it is only because
not much remains to be destroyed. Every government building, and
stores, houses, schools, roads, and most importantly hearts, have
been left demolished and in ruins.
This
is the fourth invasion of Nablus in three months. How many times
can a people face invasion, house imprisonment 24 hours a day,
brutality, physical violence, economic paralysis, and the imprisonment
of their men? How many people will have to die here? I asked myself
after the suicide bombings. That morning I had read a quote in
The Jerusalem Post in which Sharon claimed that the April invasion
had been a success and that they “had succeeded in destroying
the terrorist infrastructure.” Yet there had been two bombings
in two days and when faced with this bitterly ironic reality,
his response was yet another invasion…..as opposed to something
novel, different, something that might actually make things better
instead of worse.
Nablus
is an incredibly beautiful city nestled in a valley with houses
crawling up the sides of the surrounding hills. The streets of
the city however are completely empty except for a few children
who venture out to play soccer in the streets, sporadically yelling
“dababe, dababe (tank)” and dispersing when a tank
approaches. The entire city remains in its homes 24 hours a day.
The students can’t take their exams (already months behind
because of constant closures) because the curfew means that NOTHING
happens. All the stores are closed, the cars are immobile, and
the people, invisible; this city has been turned into an enormous
prison, in which people can only think about what to eat, bemoan
the boredom, and wait.
I have
seen occupation during these two weeks and can honestly say that
I did not imagine that it could be this bad. It is the combination
of so many factors and the incessant tragic stories that make
life here feel so heavy at times, leaving me breathing deeply,
wishing I could erase it all with one exhalation. I can only imagine
the weight on the hearts of the Palestinians and think that they
must truly be suffocating.
There
is definitely a military part of occupation—tanks of all
sizes, apache helicopters, F-16s, machine guns, M-16s, jeeps,
200, 250, 500, 800 and 1000 caliber bullets. At night, in the
veil of darkness the tanks and APCs (armored personal carriers)
conduct their secret operations and the ambulances habitually
cross their paths. Frequently we are searched, asked to get out
of the car, hands in the air, made to wait for minutes or hours.
Ambulance drivers have been beat, held at whim for hours in the
sun or denied access to patients at checkpoints during the last
few days. I remember the first night we stood facing the turret
of a tank, blinded by the bright jeep lights, waiting as our driver
was called forth. He was so calm and as we followed his instructions
I wondered how he felt being controlled and ordered about by 18
year-old boys with M-16s in his own city.
Every
day we await the unknown; everything is so incredibly unpredictable.
We just had a day of relative quiet, and then last night the tanks
began moving madly again and machine gun fire plagued the city
from 3 a.m. on. This morning I literally bolted up in my bed,
woken by the sound of shooting so close. I wandered outside and
my friend Feras says “800 caliber---The children know the
sounds better than I do.” This land defies all logic and
reason and it seems impossible to answer the simple question “Why?”
Senseless was the feeling that took over my body after seeing
one dead man---his ear blown off, nose missing, face no longer
recognizable, and the stream of blood running from his body on
the pavement.
We, the
international volunteers, hand in hand with Palestinians challenge
this 35 year-old occupation that seems to have become normal in
the eyes of the world, no longer sensational enough to deserve
media attention.
We have been going to occupied homes and attempting to help residents
get clothes, food or medicine. We get information about occupied
buildings from locals and then make contact with someone in the
house to find out what they desire, need, suggest. Typically these
are 3-5 story homes with an Israeli flag flying above, camouflage
mesh and sand bags adorning the windows and tanks parked in front.
We approach the house, ask the soldiers why they are here, for
how long, if the children can come out and play or if we can go
in, deliver things, simply see the people. Sometimes we are met
with a very firm, ‘no’ and told to leave, to which
we ask why? Why are you here? The sad thing is that so very many
of these young boys tell us they would rather be at home. Some
say there is still resistance in Nablus, or talk of suicide bombers
and terrorists; almost all say they would like to help us, but
they have strict orders, “Now go!” Occasionally we
get in, see the people, or help Palestinians get their belongings
in other rooms.
Today
we managed to get to a house where the people have been locked
up in the basement. It is located on the summit of a hill and
as we wandered up towards the house an apache approached and fired
warning shots over our heads for a minute or so, starting a brush
fire on the hill. We continued on and managed to get up to the
house from behind, sneaking close before the soldiers could see
us. We gave the families food and medicine and they begged us
to stay, desperate for company. The soldiers seemed baffled by
us and started yelling “Go!” Blinded by the dust from
an APC passing right in front of us, well aware of the jeeps wandering
near, we felt that arrest was a possibility, and that we had accomplished
what we could today. We leave and meander over stones and dirt
paths, listening to the sound of gunfire from the hills, and I
am left to think about these families who face a double occupation:
in their city and their home.
While visiting one house a few days ago, we uncovered a covert
operation. Soldiers had come at 4 a.m. and forced a family into
the upstairs where they too stayed; we had received a call from
neighbors letting us know about the home. From this position the
soldiers could look out onto the street and see the Old City and
shot anyone venturing past. We went to the home and began thinking
about strategies and actions to confront the soldiers, scaled
a wall and reached the upstairs balcony, only to have our requests
‘to just talk’ be met with sound grenades. We had
also called the local press and decided to set up camp outside
the door on the balcony, hoping to draw attention to the situation
and to perhaps create dialogue with the people inside.
After
a little while we heard tanks in the distance, getting closer
and closer and made the decision to block the path of an approaching
APC and bulldozer. Five ISM volunteers sat down on the ground
and waited. The APC stopped 20 ft. in front of the volunteers,
followed by a bulldozer, and asked for someone to come forth.
I walked up to negotiate but the soldier just asked me repeatedly
to come to the back of the APC; I asked him to come out and talk.
The soldiers proceeded to throw tear gas and a sound grenade but
the volunteers did not move. Then a jeep suddenly pulled up with
the commander of Nablus, who immediately and aggressively went
after the press. He got two of the three journalists and threw
them in the jeep, and then turned towards the volunteers. He and
two other soldiers let the 4 women walk away and took one man,
Eric Levine, from the group and then yelled and threatened all
others present with immediate arrest if they did not disperse.
Hours later Eric was released from a police station along with
the press who had had their tapes and film confiscated. The soldiers
left the home that night.
We have
organized two marches in Nablus to break curfew—which means
being on the streets and simply walking at any time. Both have
been remarkably successful without any military confrontations
(for some unknown reason) and a very happy, inspired group of
people chanting in the streets. Two days ago we delivered a plea
to the UN at the end of the march from the residents of Nablus….”It
is symbolic,” a doctor says to me “We all know that
another UN resolution condemning Israel’s actions will do
nothing.”
A very
big part of my days is about solidarity, being with Palestinians,
doing things they would be shot for, being seen defying curfew
and being a witness. Listening is a crucial part of this solidarity
for me, hearing the stories, and simply affirming their very simple
demands for freedom of movement, peace, and a little respect.
This too takes so much energy, as there are no simple stories
here or small talk. Interminably my exchanges are laced with death
of a son, father, brother, uncle, unbelievable injustice, and
brutality. Often at a loss for words, I find myself resorting
to the language of touch to say what I cannot find in sounds.
A week
ago one of my dearest women friends was walking by side and broke
into tears after saying that she hates this curfew, this city,
this situation, this life and even herself. I could only hold
her, wipe the tears away, and beg her at least not to hate herself.
A man in the ambulance blinks back tears as he tells me about
the pain of having a family, 4 children and no possibility to
work—“Do you know how incredibly hard this is?”
No, I don’t—I think as I take his hand. Another woman
breaks down after we try to get her through a checkpoint to her
village….she only has food from the city and yet the soldiers
say she could be a terrorist and that the village is closed---they
have orders.
People remind us every day where these weapons come from and who
is funding this one-sided war, and I have no answers, no excuses,
can only agree. A man was shot a few days ago—over 50 bullets
in the chest care of the USA. Palestinians watched as world attention
turned towards the World Cup and the deaths and destruction here
go unnoticed.
The Israeli
army comes in the night, demolishing homes and closing off roads
with D-9 bulldozers, creating barriers 5 ft. high and frequently
cutting the sewage pipes in the process…..leaving it to
run into the already severely deprived refugee camps. I was able
to drive around in an ambulance one day while the IDF forces worked
to close Nablus completely and witness bulldozers digging up roads
and closing each and every access road….our driver says
at the end, after having found road after road blocked, “Nablus
is strangled”.
I saw the IDF the other night arresting men, a jeep and an APC,
5 men in black, armed with M-16s and one lone white T-shirt….and
felt so incredibly helpless, knowing they can do whatever they
want with him and the others. A military with unchecked power,
arbitrary decisions, and minds so full of propaganda that they
no longer see children, innocence or humanity, just terrorists.
“This is not life” I hear again and again; hundreds
of stories cloud my mind as I listen to the shooting at night.
I can honestly say that my heart breaks each and every day here.
How one land can have seen such incredible pain, so much death,
such hideous crimes escapes me. And yet the people are so resilient.
They still have hope, by and large, still think—“Peace
is coming”….someday. They still laugh despite this
ongoing horror and make light in this deep darkness. I can not
imagine any other place I would rather be right now. I am sorry
for the long absence in email contact. Things seem so dire here
that finding time to email is often a luxury too great to indulge.
Please
do one thing today for Palestine, for peace, for an end to this
great injustice.
Susan
