BostontoPalestine
Boston support group for the International Solidarity Movement

Home
About us
News from Palestine

Contact
    Email
    Subscribe
    Donate

Current Delegation
    Summer 2005

Past Delegations
    Olive Harvest 2004
    Freedom Summer 2004
    Past Campaigns

Events
Photos
Videos (ISM)
Rachel Corrie
Links
Speakers
Be a Delegate
Press
faq
Actions!

3) August 2003 Fortress for Civilian Affairs

2) July 18, 2003 Report from Yanoun

1) July 6, 2003 "Hi all"

3) August 2003 Fortress for Civilian Affairs

One week after being shot by a settler, and one day after returning from the hospital, Adnan, a Palestinian from Yanoun village (see previous report), left for Huwarra to file a criminal complaint with the Nablus area DCO (District Civilian Affairs Office, operated by the IOF). After an hour's drive on nearly impassable mountainous roads, and a wait of over 5 hours in the hot sun, Adnan, on crutches and bandaged on the right side from his foot to his knee, was told to go home. The captain who had agreed to meet with Adnan was "too busy" to take the report. He was told to return the following Sunday at 10:00 AM with no guarantee, of course, that the captain,s very demanding schedule would be less occupied.,

Adnan asked me to accompany him to the DCO the following Sunday and I agreed. We were hoping that my presence would make a difference; that somehow, as an international, I could help ensure that the meeting with the captain will take place. I,m unsure what good I did, if any. Still, the DCO is an incredible, ugly place, quite representative of the occupation, and worthy of description.

We met in Lower Yanoun at 8:30 and were in the car by 8:35 after a quick shot of tea. We arrived at the DCO - approximately 8-9 kilometers (5 to 5.5 miles) away - at a quarter to ten. (Some quick math demonstrates what a bitch it is to travel in the West Bank, something like 1 km (1,100 yards every 8 minutes on this particular journey.) At 12:30 PM, 2 1/2 hours later, Adnan was finally beckoned with a bark by a fat soldier standing near a barred, iron revolving door at the front of the heavily guarded administration center. With its intimidating appearance - tanks, APCs, watchtowers, razor-wire, and heavy artillery - this place should really be called a "Fortress for Civilian Affairs." This is no office.

The soldier at the iron gate looked at me and barked something else, which, I correctly assumed, meant for me to follow as well. When I reached the door a different soldier looked at me and asked:
"What are you doing here?"
"I,m here with my friend," I answered.
"Who,s you,re friend?"
I looked to my side. "His name is Adnan. He was shot last week and would like---"
The soldier cut me off and looked at Adnan. "Go inside!" he ordered. Adnan was allowed to pass.
"Good enough." I thought to myself, before the soldier shot a look back at me and asked again, this time more harshly:
"What are you doing here?"
"Like I said, I,m here with my---"
"Open your bag!"
He found my camera and screamed: "This is a military area. It is forbidden to take photos!" And then he turned around and went inside.

It,s not surprising that the IOF doesn,t want any photos or video taken of the DCO. It,s a terrible place. I did get some footage during the initial waiting period, but the film hardly does any justice to the scene. I,m not a Christian, so I haven,t spent a great deal of time imagining Purgatory, but after a day at the Nablus DCO, I,m quite certain that the Israeli Government has a much better grasp of the concept than did Milton.

Imagine any Department of Motor Vehicles in the U.S. at its very worst. Then place it outside in 38C (100F) temperatures, with dust and dirt and no comfortable place to sit, so you stand in the oppressive heat for hours kicking rocks. Add the humiliation of being ignored and mistreated by occupying soldiers: 18-20 year-old kids who demand you stand in straight lines; "lose" your information; and "forget" your requests. Add the hopelessness and futility of knowing that the wait and abuse will continue for many hours and very likely will have to be repeated more than once before any progress is made. Add the weight of the occupation - 36 years - like a boulder, compounding your frustration many times over(This is how the DCO was explained to me. And it is what I saw.) The men waiting at the DCO point out that this is just one aspect of what occupation literally means in the everyday lives of Palestinians).

Most of the men at the Nablus DCO are not there to file a criminal complaint. The vast majority, unlike Adnan on this trip, are there to request a permit or formal permission from the IOF to travel from the surrounding villages to Nablus to work. A line at the "counter" forms usually around 7:00 a.m. as men from numerous area villages, Beit Farik, Salem, Beita-Jan, Burqa, Ahwarta, Iraq Burin, among others, flock to Huwarra to begin the process. This initial phase goes relatively quickly. The line takes about 90 minutes to pass through. The men give their ID cards, explain their request, move to some hard benches nearby, and wait to be called again. The benches fill up very quickly. The wait is torturous and completely arbitrary, it seems.

One man from Huwarra said he arrived promptly at 7:00 AM to fill out his request. He sat impatiently and watched as countless men, who arrived long after he did, were called ahead of him for further processing. At one point, he re-entered the initial line and cut to the front to demand more information from the soldier behind the window. But, not surprisingly, this did him no good. He was ordered immediately to sit back down and wait his turn. He had lost his seat by the time he got back.

Others were more "fortunate." They were given permission (by the occupying power) with some degree of expedience to travel through the army checkpoints that cut off their home villages from Nablus. (Of course, even if someone has permission to pass, the checkpoints themselves are another, even more terrible - everyday reality of the occupation.) Other men were simply denied permission. Still others were told to come back again another day to "ask again."

The wait is against the clock. The DCO closes at 3:00 no matter how many "cases" are still pending. If your name is not called before 3:00, you are forced to spend another day waiting in the sun. The process then starts over; again with the dim hope that your name will be called, with the realization that even if you are called there is a good chance your request will be denied, and without a clear understanding of how or why the system works.

There,s not much of a choice. If you don,t go through this process, you either cannot work, or you try to find work in the economically downtrodden villages. You can try to go around the checkpoints illegally, into Nablus through the fields, but if you,re caught, your ID is taken away and you are detained for the day at the checkpoint; again in the sun, without food, water, or bathrooms. If you are caught more than twice, you are arrested and detained for three days. After that, imprisonment up to 6 months.

I talked with two men from the wrong-side, of the Ahwarta checkpoint. Like everyone else, they worked in Nablus. They told me this was their fourth or fifth attempt with the DCO over the past two weeks. Somehow, they were still good-natured, more interested in the novel I was reading and my terrible Arabic, than complaining about their unpleasant situation. They were still waiting patiently, cracking jokes to each other, when Adnan stepped out of the fortress, two hours after he entered. The man who had been waiting since 7:00 was also still there, waiting not so patiently. With only a half-hour left, and unlikely now that he would be called before the 3:00 deadline, he stood red-faced and grew visibly more agitated. Dozens and dozens of others stood alongside him waiting sadly and desperately to go home shortly with nothing.

Adnan emerged. He had given his report. The captain told him it would be sent to the police station at the Ariel settlement for processing. They would then call him if they needed more information and set up a time for him to look at photographsTwo weeks later, he has heard nothing. He still cannot walk, but the leg is healing well.

Not long after we returned to Yanoun, I learned that Hamam, the man who was initially attacked by the settlers the day Adnan was shot, had moved his family and his flock of sheep south to a village called Jift-lik. With no protection from the Israeli Government - no protection from anyone - Hamam, like many villagers from Yanoun before him, is simply too afraid to raise his family there. Attacks from Itamar continue and nothing is done, there is simply no response. Adnan,s situation only reinforces this in the minds of the villagers and, I can only assume, in the settlers, thoughts as well. Because of this, a village which had a population of nearly 300 persons a half decade ago now has less than 90. This is forced migration. This is state-sponsored, or more accurately, state-funded/state-ignored terrorism. Should we call it ethnic-cleansing? I think so. This is how I see it: The systematic removal of an indigenous population from its homeland on account of race or religion, in this case, both. The occupying, responsible State understands what is happening and watches idly, reinforcing the terror and violence with its inaction, directly contributing to the forced removal with policies (roadblocks, checkpoints, Apartheid Walls, etc) that damage the local economies.

As I write this report, the situation in Yanoun grows ever more uncertain. Settlers have returned to the village more frequently at night. It appears as if a major act of violence - perhaps an attack on the generator or on the villagers - is being planned. Very gloomy...

2) July 18, 2003 Report from Yanoun

A lot has been written about Yanoun village in the past year. Its story is a sad one, a struggle that, as of now, remains incomplete. The next chapter began early today...

A good man was shot and people are angry...

This is what I know:

Settlers from nearby Itamar entered Yanoun early this morning, stopping to pray alongside a hill where sheep from the village graze. One of the flock wandered up the hill, prompting it's owner, Hamam, to give chase. (Between 1996-1998 the Itamar settlement claimed this hill - along with all of the mountainous perimeter surrounding Yanoun - as its own. Itamar settlers are well-funded, well-armed, violent, and biblically-driven. They assert a God-given right to all of modern-day Israel and the Palestinian Territories without compromise. Around Yanoun the Itamar settlers have established an ambiguous, constantly-encroaching set of boundaries that cannot be crossed by the villagers without a violent reaction from the settlers. In other words, it is now a dangerous act of resistance for a villager to chase his own sheep up his own hill.

Hamam's act of defiance prompted a quarrel with the settlers squatting on the hillside. There were five settlers and, of course, they were heavily armed. Another villager, Adnan, heard the argument and approached the hill with his brother, Chadar. Adnan speaks both Hebrew and English fluently.He argued actively with the settlers. The conflict soon escalated beyond words. Adnan struck one of the settlers on the shoulder with a stick. He was beaten severly with the butt-ends of the settlers' M-16s and shot in the foot and ankle. Hamam and Chadar were beaten less severely and managed to get away with minor cuts and lumps. Adnan will be hospitalized for the next 3-4 days. He is unable to walk...

As one of the few English speakers in the village, I've gotten to know Adnan fairly well during my short stay in Yanoun. He and his wife had their first child 5 months ago. He's 31, wiry, with short-clipped hair and no beard or mustache, which is uncommon in the village. His look, sunglasses, jeans and cigarettes, could easily pass for a college student in the U.S. if it weren't for the years of oppression and worry etched into his face and smile. As we sat playing with the baby the other day, he said he still has a hard time believing he's a father. He self-consciously jokes about thechild being his own. He still prefers to call himself "aam, mish abu" (uncle, not father).

In many ways Adnan is very fortunate. He has a good job as an industrial engineer for the Palestinian Authority. He lives, compared to most, very comfortably. I'm learning, however, that fortune and comfort in Yanoun - in Palestine - are relative, and subject to immediate change.

In October 2002, Itamar settlers invaded Yanoun, threatening to destroy the village and everyone in it. The village was vacated the following day. The villagers fled to Acraba, a nearby town, returning only with the promise of protection and accompaniment from members of the international media and human rights volunteers some days later. Violent attacks continued through the close of the year and into early 2003, but have curtailed in the last six weeks. It remains, as witnessed this morning, an unpredictable situation. Many of the villagers have stayed in Acraba too frightened to return...(More information about the recent history of Yanoun village is available on the website of International Women's Peace Services (IWPS):

http://members.freespeech.org/womenspeacepalestine/default.htm )

Adnan works in Nablus, which is 15 kilometers from Yanoun. By car it should take just 20 minutes to travel from Yanoun to Nablus. However, the settlers - not the army - have blocked the road that connects Yanoun and Acraba directly to the city. The villagers are afraid to clear the roadblock because they will be shot by the settlers. The roadblock forces the villagers to enter Nablus through a major Israeli checkpoint at Huwarra. Incredible travel delays result, usually 4-5 hours are necessary to complete the 20-minute journey, oftentimes it is worse.

Adnan's child was born in an ambulance because of a half-hour delay at Huwarra en route to the region's only hospital in Nablus. He was recently turned away at Huwarra every day for two weeks attempting to gain entry into Nablus to go to work. On the fifteenth day, Adnan was allowed to pass - after being punched in the stomach by an Israeli soldier.

Despite all the hardship, Adnan understands his situation well. He believes the occupation is only a part of life. He resists when he can. He grows angry, tired and frustrated, but also chooses to focus on the good things in life - like his child and the future.

From our conversation a few days ago: "I'm still young," he said, "but I won't be forever...I could pick up and move now, but I don't want to...and I shouldn't have to. I want to raise my family in Yanoun... I could even accept all the damage the settlers have done, the past violence. I could accept the roadblocks and I could live with [Itamar] surrounding us - if only they would say enough is enough...and live peacefully...This is what I want."

So much for that...

****************************************

As background, because many are not familiar with Yanoun ö as I was two weeks ago - I'd like to add some context to this report for a more complete picture (Like I said before, a lot has already been written and documented about Yanoun and it isn't difficult to find more information about the village, in any case...):

Yanoun is a tiny, picturesque village - nine families and 94 persons - tucked into a lonely valley in the northern West Bank. The valley holds about ten acres of rocky, but fertile desert farmland, which produces spicy green peppers (fel-fel), small patches of sweet tomatoes (bandooras), cucumbers (chiar), and my favorite, mini-green squash (fakuz), along with enough feed for the village's 150 sheep and goats. (The number of livestock was nearly doubled before the major settler violence and encroachment of the last year).

Surrounding hills send a cool spring that trickles slowly down beneath the village, collects in a shallow cave, and fills the village well. Days are hot, dry, and slow. We often sit in the shade drinking sweet tea, flavored with leaves from the fields below. A village-wide football game at dusk on the rocky field is always a highlight. In the evening the sun begins to fall into the mountains and onto the larger village of Acraba about 2-3 kilometers to the west. Summer nights in Yanoun are pleasant and cool.Dinner is always wonderful: fresh cheese, olive oil and zaatar, warm bread, yogurt, sometimes chicken (but, it's expensive), and, of course plenty of vegetables from the fields. Under "normal" circumstances, this would be a very idyllic place to live in and raise a family. The hospitality and warmth towards internationals is incredible. The children are well-behaved, beautiful, and everywhere! (I think about 60% of the population is under 17)

The village is divided into two halves; Upper Yanoun sits on low hills in the north and lower Yanoun near olive orchards a kilometer away to the west. (Settlement outposts recently built on the mountains surround the village in every direction.) There is not a direct line of sight between the two village halves. Internationals live in a modest, but very comfortable house in Upper Yanoun. It's clear that the settlers have recognized the living situation for internationals in the village. Adnan's attack - and all settler activity recently - has occurred in Lower Yanoun. Internationals have decided to split forces and will now maintain a constant presence in both Lower and Upper Yanoun... Too late, I think, but hopefully, Yanoun have peace for weeks to come....

1) July 6, 2003 "Hi all"
By Adam, Jerusalem.

Some initial thoughts:

Not many American Jews are fortunate enough to celebrate a birthday in  Jerusalem. I am truly amazed at all that I've digested in just a half a  week. The new sights and sounds and smells are almost too overwhelming, and  very surreal. I'm quickly falling in love with the Old City, its historic maze of decaying, but glorious brick wall and all of the adventure and culture that lies between.

Still, this is a bittersweet moment.

Four days in Israel and already I've seen more guns than in my previous 23 years (and enough to last me through the rest of my life.) We walked to the base of the Temple Mount this afternoon, the holiest site in the Jewish religion, our Mecca. Sadly, there were more soldiers than pilgrims, more M-16s than Talit (prayer shawls) - and this is a holy site.

Militarism is thick in Israel. And it starts so young. Teenagers - five years younger than I am - walk beside me carrying rifles that weigh as much as they do. Ben and I passed a soldier at the foot of Damascus Gate this afternoon. A heavy rifle weighed down his tanned, frail and boy-like body in the hot sun. If I would have seen him out of uniform I would have thought he was no older than fourteen or fifteen. Two beautiful girls walked by not long after that. I would have liked to date them were it not for the machine guns strapped across their chests.

As an outsider I see a society plagued with militarism; holy sites drenched with weapons of war, children forced into conscription, poisoned by its effects. At some point Israelis have to start asking very difficult questions: What is this society we are protecting? How can it change?

Thank you everyone for everything you're doing.

Peace,

Adam