Israel’s military entered Nablus in occupied Palestine to “preemptively” “neutralize” three “suspects” who were allegedly “planning attacks in the immediate future.” The timing was exquisite, coming on the heals of Secretary of State Blinken’s diplomatic visit.
The Israeli military’s daytime raid began at around 10:15 a.m. (3:15 a.m. ET), Ahmad Jibril, the local director of Red Crescent, told CNN. It is “a time when everyone is out shopping in the open market of the old city. No one expects an invasion at this time of the day,” he said.
There were Israeli snipers on the rooftops shooting live ammunition, he said. “That’s why many people were shot in the head, shoulders and backs,” he said. Most of the dead were shot in the head, he added.
“People who were unarmed and even away from the old city were also shot. Bullets were everywhere!” he said.
Even by Israel’s standards, this was a brazen affront against international law and a big “FUCK YOU” to the Biden Administration.
The IDF killed 11 Palestinians and wounded 102 before withdrawing from Nablus.
U.S. Secretary of State Tony Blinken and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu in Jerusalem on Jan. 30. Photo: Ronaldo Schemidt/AFP via Getty Images
Summary of call: Secretary of State Antony J. Blinken spoke today (Feb. 18) with Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu to reiterate our support for a negotiated two-state solution and opposition to policies that endanger its viability. The Secretary underscored the urgent need for Israelis and Palestinians to take steps that restore calm and our strong opposition to unilateral measures that would further escalate tensions. The Secretary and Prime Minister also discussed broader regional challenges, including the threats posed by Iran, and the Secretary underscored our ironclad commitment to Israel’s security.
My message to President Biden: Netanyahu doesn’t give a flying FU*K about your diplomacy, about a two-state solution, or any damn “shared values” between the U.S. and Israel. You’d better tell the American public what you consider our ‘special relationship’ to be, specifying the substance and policy dimensions of the two countries’ so-called ‘shared values’. Only by clearly defining those values can you set the U.S. apart from Israel’s flagrant violations of human rights and international law, such as the slaughter in Nablus this week. And you should make clear what would represent a departure from those ‘shared values’. Otherwise, you and your Administration are joined at the hip with a country that “preemptively” assassinates Palestinians with impunity. (Israel has murdered 62 Palestinians so far in 2023.)
This is the last in a series of blog posts sharing the stories of Palestinians who are living under occupation in East Jerusalem, the West Bank and Gaza. OCHA compiled 50 stories which can all be found here.
I divided them and shared five stories at a time because I hoped more Americans would take the time to read them if they were highlighted in smaller doses. (And honestly, I wanted to read each story more closely which this resharing allowed me to do.)
Congress and President Trump have been threatening to reduce funding to the United Nations in recent weeks because they claim the UN is biased against Israel. Telling the truth may not win popularity contests, but the work and the words of the UN need to continue. These stories published by OCHA are the truth.
I suppose the most revolutionary act one can engage in is … to tell the truth.
HOWARD ZINN, Marx in Soho
THE TARKYAKI FAMILY
THE Tarkyaki Family from EAST JERUSALEM (Photos by JC-Tordai, 2010)
The family home of Amjad and Asma’ Taryaki and their three children was demolished in 2009.
Shortly after, Amjad told us: ❝On 12 October 2009, at 7:30 in the morning, while my wife was taking the children to school and I was still sleeping, the Border Police woke me up and ordered me to get out.
❝When my wife came back and saw all the police and the bulldozer she knew what was happening.
❝The police wouldn’t let her enter the yard and she started panicking, thinking that I was sleeping while our house was being demolished.
❝She knew that the pills I take for my heart condition make me fall into a very deep sleep. She tried to call me but the police had confiscated my mobile phone…
❝[W]e had an emotional breakdown. The hardest thing was to protect our children. The youngest of them, Tasneem, wet her pants while watching the demolition.
❝Our son, when he came back from school, was asking about his chocolate which was buried in the rubble. He is having a very hard time recovering from the shock and I’m afraid he’ll lose this school year…
❝[W]e put up a tent in the yard and spent a month and a half there, but as winter was approaching it got very cold.❞
Amjad added: ❝One night we decided we couldn’t go on like this any longer and took the children to my brother. Since then, we’ve been going from relative to relative, and sometimes we split the family up as we can’t all fit into one house.
❝My wife was suffering from the lack of privacy and, as there were constantly a lot of people around her, she always had to wear her hijab.
❝The rubble from the demolition is still here, but getting a bulldozer to remove it requires a permit, and is very costly. Next to our house there is a little wooden stable where my brother keeps his horse. The police didn’t demolish that. I feel that animals are treated better than human beings.
❝Three months ago, we decided to build a small wooden room on the site where our house was located. We’ve put some mattresses and a little TV there.
❝This Saturday we’ll bring some of the furniture that survived the demolition from my wife’s sister’s house. We’re also building a little bathroom next to the room. Our cooking stove is outside but mostly our families provide us with food.
❝If our new shelter is demolished, we will build it again. We have nowhere else to go and no money to rent anywhere else.❞
Kareem from NABI SALEH | RAMALLAH
In Febriary 2011, we met Kareem, then an 11-year-old boy, and heard from him about his arrest by the Israeli Police.
❝I was standing with a group of children near the gas station at the entrance to An Nabi Saleh. An Israeli police vehicle drove by and I threw a stone at it.
❝The vehicle stopped and several special police jumped out, chased us and took me into custody. A woman from our village tried to protect me, but the police shoved her to the ground.
❝I was taken first to the military tower at the entrance of An Nabi Saleh, where the police forces kicked me in my leg and arm and my hands were bound behind my back with plastic ties.
❝Next, I was taken to Hallamish settlement and then transported to an interrogation centre about 45 minutes from my house, at Geva Binyamin settlement. There, I was taken to an interrogation room.
❝The interrogator asked me if I threw stones and I said ‘yes,’ and I told them why; ‘you arrested my 14-year-old brother in the middle of the night this week and now I have no one to play with. I was angry, so I threw a stone,’
❝Next, they showed me pictures of boys and asked me to identify them. I told them I don’t know these boys; they aren’t from our village.
❝The whole interrogation lasted around 15 minutes, but I spent another two hours waiting after the interrogation until my father came and picked me up. No one from my family was with me during the process.❞
Amneh from BIR NABALA / TEL AL ‘ADASSA | JERUSALEM
Bir Nabala / Tel al ‘Adassa is a small Bedouin community whose members have lived between Ramallah and Jerusalem for decades, after being displaced from what became Israel and then within the West Bank.
Since the mid-1990s, they have been settled just inside the Israeli-declared municipal boundary of Jerusalem.
Notwithstanding the proximity, since they hold West Bank ID cards, Israel considers their presence within the Jerusalem municipal boundary illegal, unless they obtain special permits.
By 2007, the Israeli authorities completed the construction of a Barrier in the area, with the stated aim of preventing attacks on Israelis. This has left the community on the “Jerusalem” side of the Barrier, physically separated from their service centre of Bir Nabala and the rest of the West Bank, and unable to legally enter East Jerusalem.
We met Amneh, then a 45-year-old member of the community, in 2013. ❝After the Barrier was completed in 2007,❞ she told us, ❝our living conditions deteriorated and our life turned upside down. We were isolated, stuck between two places, Ramallah and Jerusalem, able to go to neither.
❝The separation was difficult on everyone. All the while, we suffered harassment and intimidation from the Israeli authorities to leave our community.❞
Forced displacement of the Tel al ‘Adassa Bedouin community (August 2013)
On top of the access restrictions, the community has also faced multiple incident of demolitions, due to lack of Israeli-issued building permits.
By 2013, all families left and went to live on the ‘West Bank’ side.
The community dispersed into two separate locations. Amneh described the events that led to their departure:
❝We had demolition orders for our structures and fines as well. After finally demolishing all of our structures, the Israelis threatened that if we do not move to the other side of the Barrier in the West Bank, we will be fined huge amounts of money and risk arrest.
❝To be honest, we just are not able to pay any fines. We have no money. I have two sons in the university and I still have not been able to cover their tuition. Any money I have, should go to them first, and not to the Israeli authorities.
❝So we decided to move, in hopes that we will find better living conditions and no longer be faced with the Israeli authorities’ intimidation.❞
❝Is this our destiny?❞ she asked. ❝Is it my fate to live in uncertainty, without even a hope of living in dignity and with respect?❞
Ahmad Diwan from BEIT IJZA | BIDDU ENCLAVE | JERUSALEM
We met Ahmad Jubran Diwan, also known by the name of Abu Al ‘Abed, in 2012, to hear from him – as head of Beit Ijza village council – about the farmers in his community, who own agricultural lands that are isolated following the construction of the Barrier.
❝The Barrier on Beit Ijza lands was erected in 2004, […] buried 340 dunums (85 akres) under its route, and isolated 860 dunums (215 akres) behind it,❞ Ahmad said, adding that the land was planted with many kinds of fruits and vegetables, including olives, grapes, almonds and tomatos.
❝This area was the ‘food basket’ of the region❞, he said, ❝feeding Jerusalem and its suburbs. This is a sample of grapes planted behind the Barrier, where the farmers cannot access. They cannot harvest these crops and they are eaten by boars, animals and birds.
❝Grape, olive and fig trees – the harvest season of which is now – demand daily visits, just like a spoiled baby in his mother’s bossom, who needs to be fed every hour or when she cries. We need to access our land every day, without any hindrance.❞
MUHAMMAD ABDEL AZIZ
Muhammad Abdel Aziz from QARYUT | NABLUS
A rough, winding uphill road leads to Palestinian olive grove in a remote and isolated area of Qaryut village, close to Eli settlement.
In this grove, dozens of ancient olive trees were cut down on 9 October 2012.
Shortly after, we visited Muhammad, on his land, to hear from him on how this affected his family.
❝These trees are centuries old. I inherited them from my father who inherited them from my grandfather. It is the only source of livelihood. We have no more fallow fields to plant with wheat and barley etc. This tree is our sole source of livelihood.
❝A few days before the harvest some days ago, settlers came and, as you can see, cut down the trees; and those behind as well, which are hundreds of years old.
❝It is the settlers who came down from that settlement, close to us, a few hundred metres from here. They cut down no less than 140 trees.
❝Two days after they had cut down the trees, they came and poured gasoline on the trees, and also burned down trees in an area a little further down, nearby.
❝This naturally affects the farmers, their lives, their livelihoods, as these trees are their only source of subsistence.❞
This is the ninth of ten blog posts focused on the stories compiled by OCHA of 50 Palestinians living under 50 years of Occupation. The entire 50 stories can be found at OCHA’s website here. Each story tells of a personal hardship which exemplifies life under Israeli occupation. The story about Khirbet Khamis in this batch strikes me especially hard. I can’t imagine the degrading and dehumanizing existence that these families have been forced to live under. The Occupation must end, with or without Israel’s consent.
FAT-HALLAH ABU RIDAH
Fat-Hallah abu Ridah from QARYUT, NABLUS
Since the early 1980s the village has lost much of its land for the construction of an Israeli settlement.
The residents have suffered from regular attacks by Israeli settlers. These incidents have severely undermined their physical security and livelihoods.
Between January and September 2011, OCHA recorded a total of 16 incidents resulting in casualties or property damage, perpetrated in the village by Israeli settlers.
Fat-hallah is a farmer who sustained damages in a settler attack on 6 October 2011. When we met him shortly after, he told us:
❝I consider these 80 damaged trees to be like my children. My wife and I planted them 15 years ago, and have been raising them together with our children.
❝My wife and my daughter used to carry the water on their heads and walk over 300 metres in order to irrigate these trees, while myself and the children spent over three years collecting stones from the land to build these small stone walls all around in order to protect the land.
❝We have always tried to protect our land and our trees, but this time they came at night.
“The Israeli forces restrict our movements in the village in order to protect the settlers while they damage our land.
❝This is the fifth time this has happened; around twenty days ago, the settlers shot me in my leg with live ammunition, and also hit my two sons.❞
Mufeed Sharabati from H2 | HEBRON
We met Mufeed, then 47 years old, father of five, in 2013. He lives in an old three story house located in Ash Shuhada Street, with his brother, also father of five, and his mother.
This street was once the main commercial artery of Hebron city, and a densely populated residential area.
In 1994, following the killing of 29 Palestinians by an Israeli settler, the Israeli authorities closed it for Palestinian traffic; later, following the outbreak of the second Intifada in 2000, most of the street was closed for Palestinian pedestrian movement as well, and hundreds of shops were shut down.
The Israeli authorities justified these restrictions as a means of protecting Israelis living in settlements along the street, which contravene international law.
❝Our life in Shuhada Street is almost like living in a prison,❞ Mufeed told us. ❝Every time we enter or exit the street we have to pass through a checkpoint, and have our belongings checked.
❝Our children are deprived of all aspects of childhood. They are not free to play down the street with a ball or ride a bike because most times they get harassed by settlers.
❝Israeli forces invade our house anytime they want; each time something wrong happens down the street near the house, our children are accused of it, and they get interrogated.
❝When there is a health emergency, for the ambulance to get here it needs prior coordination. We feel so isolated, our friends and relatives don’t visit us because it’s difficult for them to get here.
❝Nothing is normal here, but at the end of the day this is my home, I inherited from my father, it means so much to me, I was born here, all my life and memories are here, and I will not leave here except when I die.❞
Sabrin Nasasra from KHIRBET TANA | NABLUS (Sabrin is seen on the left, with her sister, Farah)
On 23 March 2016, Sabrin and her family became homeless.
It happened when Israeli authorities destroyed 53 structures in the Palestinian community of Khirbet Tana, in one of the largest incidents since OCHA began systematically tracking demolitions in 2009.
The targeted structures included 22 homes, resulting in the displacement of 87 people, among them 35 children and 22 women. The picture above was taken after that demolition incident.
On 3 January 2017, Sabrin and her family lost their home again, a tent that was erected as a shelter following the previous demolition.
The picture below was taken following that demolition, where Israeli authorities demolished 49 structures including 30 structures that had been donated to the families.
This second incident displaced eight families of fifty members, including 22 children, and otherwise affected ten families of 72 members, including 35 children.
Khirbet Tana is located in an Israeli-declared firing zone. All the families there have faced demolition at least once during 2016, when the Israeli authorities carried out a series of four demolitions between February and April.
All in all, OCHA has documented 13 demolition incidents between 2010 and January 2017 in Khirbet Tana.
Khirbet Tana, following a demolition incident, 3 January 2017
MOHAMMAD AL QUNBAR
Mohammad al Qunbar from SURKHI QUNBAR | EAST JERUSALEM
Surkhi Qunbar is a small neighborhood, located on the ‘Jerusalem’ side of the West Bank Barrier.
It takes its name from two families that were cut off by the Barrier from the remainder of the neighborhood of As Sawahira Ash Sharqiya.
While it is located in an area which was unilaterally annexed to Israel, not all of its residents have been given Jerusalem ID cards.
Some carry West Bank ID cards and can only ‘legally’ reside in their own homes if they have special Israeli-issued staying permits.
Community members cannot freely access the rest of East Jerusalem, and are also severely restricted from accessing the rest of the West Bank.
Recorded in 2014, this video was part of OCHA’s interactive map project, which marked the tenth anniversary to the West Bank Barrier by illustrating its impact on Palestinian communities in and around East Jerusalem.
Fuad Jabo from KHIRBET KHAMIS | BETHLEHEM
❝Our lives have become so complicated, and we are under enormous pressure, psychological, financial and social.❞
Now home to a few dozens, Khirbet Khamis was among several communities that were incorporated into the Jerusalem municipal boundary and unilaterally annexed to Israel.
However, unlike the vast majority of Palestinians in the annexed areas, Khirbet Khamis’ residents were issued West Bank, instead of Jerusalem, ID cards. As a result, under Israeli law, they are considered “illegal residents” in their own homes.
Khirbet Khamis has become an ❝open air prison❞ for its residents, says Fuad Jado, a 55-year-old father of five.
❝Our lives have become so complicated, and we are under enormous pressure… We are not allowed to work in Israel although our community has been illegally annexed and we are now cut off from the rest of the West Bank on the Jerusalem side of the Wall.
❝This has changed all our lives. Our children, for example, have to cross checkpoints daily to get to their school.
❝While there are no shops in the community we are limited in the quantity of food we can bring in from Bethlehem, especially dairy products.
❝Sometimes the soldiers throw them away if they think the quantities exceed our daily consumption; other times we do it ourselves to avoid waiting for permission to enter.
❝What are we supposed to do? They don’t allow us to shop in Jerusalem, so we sometimes have no choice but to rely on friends from Jerusalem to buy things for us or risk going to Jerusalem markets ourselves.❞
Based on a publication on dislocated communities focusing on the case of Khirbet Khamis | November 2013.
The stories of five Palestinians living under Israel’s military occupation are shared below. OCHA has compiled 50 stories here. I hope these stories reach the hearts of many Americans. Enough is enough. Fifty years of occupation is enough.
Ammar Masamir from QUSRA | NABLUS
On 10 January 2013, armed settlers raided fields next to the village of Qusra, and clashed with local residents. Some settlers opened fire and Palestinians threw stones.
Israeli forces at the scene fired tear gas, rubber coated bullets and live ammunition towards Palestinians.
Some Palestinians were injured, and many trees were vandalized and damaged.
Ammar was 19 years old back then.
He was shot with live ammunition in his leg, and sustained three fractured bones.
❝I run a barber shop in Qusra and my father used to work in a settlement,❞ he told us shortly after the incident.
❝These were the only sources of income for my family, which includes eight people.
❝After the attack, my leg was operated on, and since then I can’t move. The doctors said that I need at least three months before I can start physiotherapy.
❝My father had to quit his job to keep the shop running. The incident directly worsened our economic situation.❞
Khader Radad from AZ ZAWIYA | SALFIT
About 35 per cent (8,000 dunums) of the agricultural land of Az Zawiya (population 5,768), all planted with olive trees, is located in the seam zone behind the Barrier and within Elkana settlement boundaries.
To access land in this area, Palestinian farmers must obtain a permit to cross the Barrier through the agricultural gate controlled by the Israeli army. They also need prior coordination to cross the fences surrounding the settlement.
Khader Raddad and his family own six dunums of land (20 olive trees) behind the Barrier, and 15 dunums (250 olive trees) on the Palestinian side of the Barrier. In September 2013, at least 320 olive trees belonging to Az Zawiya were completely burned in the seam zone.
Az Zawiya village & Salfit governorate
❝The land is not ploughed and the grass is dry… throw a match and boom! All the trees are burnt,❞ said Khader.
OCHA has monitored the productivity of Khader’s olive trees since 2013 by testing 10 trees on each side of the Barrier.
In 2016, the 10 trees on the Palestinian side produced 150 kg of olives, while the ones on other side of the Barrier produced only 50 kg.
Prior to the completion of the Barrier in 2004, Khader’s family was self-sufficient, but they now have to buy olive oil from the market to meet their needs.
AMAL AS SAMOUNI
Amal as Samouni from AZ ZEITUN | GAZA
We met Amal in 2012, in Gaza, when she was 11-years-old.
Three years earlier, during Israel’s offensive in 2009, soldiers ordered over 100 members her extended family into one house. A day later, the residence was hit by Israeli artillery shells and live ammunition. Twenty-seven family members were killed, including 11 children and six women, and 35 others were injured.
Amal was left with permanent sharpnel injuries and trauma.
❝I remember my brother and father and how they were killed in every moment… we were a happy family. Now I don’t feel happy anymore,❞ she told us.
❝For one year we lived with the parents of my mother… Then we lived in a storage room for a year and a half. It didn’t have a floor. For the last six months, we have been living where our old house used to be…
❝I want to have another doctor look at my situation, and to try everything possible to end my pain. I wish to travel not for amusement, but for medical treatment.
❝When I have a lot of pain I become nervous and angry. When I am sad I go to my aunt’s house to see my cousins, or I prepare my books for school…
❝Before the war I excelled in school. Now my scores are not so good anymore.❞
Ahmad Ayyad from ABU DIS | JERUSALEM
Ahmad Ayyad, born in 1929, is a resident of Abu Dis, who in 2013 suffered from renal failure and is in need of regular kidney dialysis. The Augusta Victoria hospital in East Jerusalem would have been the most suitable medical centre for this treatment, as it is located only 3.4 km (2 miles) away from his home.
However, because of the West Bank Barrier separating his home from East Jerusalem, his family had take him to a medical centre in Beit Jala (Bethlehem governorate), which is located 40 minutes drive away, three times a week.
This journey is more difficult and costly for the patient and his family.
Recorded in 2014, this video was part of OCHA’s interactive map project, which marked the tenth anniversary to the West Bank Barrier by illustrating its impact on Palestinian communities in and around East Jerusalem.
We met Razan and her family in 2011 in their home, in a neighbourhood of Abu Dis which is separated from the rest of the community by the West Bank Barrier and can be freely accessed only through East Jerusalem.
Razan from ABU DIS | EAST JERUSALEM SIDE OF THE BARRIER — In this picture, Razan is seen next to her twin brother, Anan (photo by JC Tordai, 2010)
❝In our neighbourhood,❞ her mother Salam told us, ❝there are four families of West Bank ID holders who, after the Wall was built, are stuck on the Jerusalem side without Jerusalem ID cards or permits to stay in Jerusalem.❞
Razan’s father is one of those ‘West-Bankers’ whom Israel does not recognize as Jerusalem residents and therefore need permits to stay in Jerusalem.
In the absence of such a permit, in 2010, he had to leave and reside on the other side of the Barrier.
Razan and her siblings lived without their father for more than six months.
❝The children have a hard time separated from their father. Every time they say a prayer, they ask God to give their father a permit to bring him back to them.
❝However, I can’t risk my or the children’s status [Jerusalem residents] by moving to the [other side] to live with him.❞
This is the second post sharing the stories compiled by OCHA. The first post is available here. The next 8 will follow in the days to come. All of the stories are available on OCHA’s website here.
Jamila Ash Shaladeh
Jamila Ash Shaladeh from H2 | HEBRON CITY
Jamila’s home is sandwiched between two checkpoints, Bab Az Zawiya and “55”, in close vicinity to Israeli settlements.
Its once open-aired and naturally-lit patio is covered with a metal safety net ceiling, installed to protect the family from settlers throwing stones and rubbish at them.
The patio borders a kindergarten that is a site of regular settler harassment.
Before the kindergarten was opened, Jamila said settlers used to come and sit on the wall to harass her and her family, forcing them to extend the wall vertically to stop this activity.
Hebron in the West Bank. Gray area is Access-restricted and Closed Military Zone
Aged 55, she has been living in Ash Shuhada Street for thirty years and has been detained in Israeli jails 25 times for confronting settlers and soldiers.
She spoke of her experience of settler harassment and violence, and military closures.
❝I have not left the house for over a month now. I am a sick woman with asthma and can no longer take the humiliation of soldiers or checkpoints: the scanning, the searches and the delays. I’ve even stopped going to see the doctor. I’ve stopped taking medication and only use the inhaler which my son bought for me.
❝Since October 2015, none of my family members, who all live outside the old city, can visit me. During the Eid Muslim holiday, we made cookies and prepared ourselves, but no one was allowed in. I only get to see my neighbour and recently some internationals came to show their solidarity.
❝I often stay at home for days without seeing anyone but walls. I cannot even look upwards to see the sky without being reminded of settler harassment…
❝Life in Al Shuhada Street is a nightmare. There is no humanity. There is no accountability. We’re at the whim of the settlers and soldiers.❞
Jamila Ash Shaladeh with her numbered ID, without which she is not allowed to stay in her neighbourhood
Salah Majjad from AN NABI ELIYAS | QALQILIYA
Salah is a 45-year-old farmer, father of six. Recently, he has been affected by the construction of a road that would bypass a section of the existing Road 55 running through An Nabi Elyas village.
Road 55 connects the cities of Nablus and Qaliqiliya, and also connects several settlements with Israel.
According to the Israeli authorities, the large volume of traffic on Road 55 generated a range of safety concerns.
New Road in An Nabi Elyas – May 2017
An Israeli media report indicated that although the original plan for this road was approved over 20 years ago, the decision to implement it came in a 2015 agreement between the Israeli Prime Minister and an Israeli settler body (the Yesha Council).
❝The four and half dunums of land I own, where I stand now, has been confiscated for the construction of the bypass road,❞ Salah told us.
❝The plot of land was my sole source of income. It had about one hundred olive trees, a few almond and fig trees, and vines.
❝The type of olive trees I had was not large and this allowed us to make use of the land between the trees to grow other fodder crops for animals and chickens. We even grew lentils and chickpeas sometimes.
❝My wife and I used to go to the land and tend it almost every day. The money we made from our produce was just about enough for the whole year.❞
Siham at Tatari
Siham at Tatari from Gaza
❝The repeated closure of Erez and Rafah [crossings] sentences cancer patients to death. It’s a slow death…❞
Siham, a 53-year-old refugee from Gaza, mother of ten, has cancer, and is being treated in an East Jerusalem hospital.
❝In 2013 I was diagnosed with chronic lymphocytic leukemia. This was the beginning of a long, painful and expensive journey…
❝Last May (2016), I was put on chemotherapy as new cancerous tumors were found in my stomach and hips. The course of treatment ran for seven sessions that had to be completed without interruption every 21 days. I only managed two because the drugs were not sent from Ramallah to Gaza.
❝I waited more than two months and then my doctor referred me to the Augusta Victoria hospital in East Jerusalem. Twice I missed my appointment because I lacked a permit. All I heard from the [Israeli] authorities was that the permit application was being processed.
❝About five months after I first applied, and only after referring my case to human rights organizations and protesting, did I finally get a permit to leave Gaza. A day before coming to Jerusalem, I learned that the cancer has spread to the thyroid.❞
Ismael Anees from DEIR AL HATAB, NABLUS
❝My family owns 224 dunums of land close to the settlement [of Elon Moreh], which we can only access during the olive harvest for one or two days a year.
❝We cannot plough the land or pick the olives properly. The few days we’re allowed are also nerve-racking because of army and settler presence.
❝Sometimes, they [the settlers] pick the good olives before we are allowed to reach our land…
❝One of the settlers set up a sheep farm on part of my land and fenced it around. To get to it I need his permission and need him to open the gate. He controls the land, which he ruined with his sheep.
❝I’m not the only one who suffers. About 8,000 dunums that belong to Deir al Hatab are inaccessible to their owners because of the settlement, the closed military zone, the bypass road, etc.
❝I was born in this land and spent my childhood on it. The land is our life and we’ve been deprived of it.❞
Amal from HALAWEH | MASAFER YATTA | HEBRON
In December 2016, the Israeli authorities seized a donated caravan, serving as a primary health centre, in the Al Mirkez community in the Masafer Yatta (Hebron), on the grounds of lack of a building permit.
The designation of this area as a firing zone for Israeli military training makes it very difficult for the residents of the 12 herding communities (1,300 people) located within it to access basic services, including healthcare.
When OCHA visited the al Mirkez community on 11 January 2017, the day the medical team provides its weekly visit, the room serving as a substitute clinic was packed with about 15 women and children seeking treatment.
Two women who were waiting in the room with four children, including a 7-month-old baby, were from the neighbouring community of Halaweh.
The women and their children, accompanied by their father-in-law, had had to walk for more than one hour to reach the clinic.
Amal, a mother of two, was diagnosed two years ago with systemic lupus erythematosus, a chronic auto-immune disease with symptoms that include swelling and damage to the joints, blood, kidneys, heart and lungs.
❝The journey was tiring for me and the children. We had to stop and rest on the way. Getting here is not easy for us,❞ said Amal.
❝I wish we could have access to healthcare more than once a week and have it available also in Halaweh.❞
❝On rainy days the road takes more than two hours; sometimes we simply don’t come,❞ said Jameel, Amal’s father-in-law.
❝We don’t have a car and the clinic is far away. Amal has multiple illnesses: kidney problems and low platelet count, and needs her medication regularly.❞
There is much more information about each of these stories on OCHA’s website here.