Corrected..... Blog # 29 June 25, 2014
Teaching in the ghetto
The Jerusalem neighborhood of Abu Dis ended up on the wrong side of the wall; every time bus #36 from East Jerusalem turns this particular corner and there is the monstrous “barrier” (which is quite a euphemism ) up close and personal, all eight meters high of poured concrete stretching along the edge of the road, (or rather defining the edge of the road and in some ways, the edge of existence), I have the distinct impression that military/city planner types are giving us and all the wrong-side-people, a gigantic concrete finger in the eye. Most of Al Quds University is on the wrong side too, (if you live in Jerusalem and of course on the right side if you live in Ramallah or Tulkarem or Jenin or Hebron). For students who are old enough to remember, getting to school from East Jerusalem used to be easy and quick. Now, the journey involves a long tunnel, skirting Ma’ale Adumim, (one of the largest Jewish settlements or shall we just be honest and say colonies on the West Bank), swinging through Bethany, (the biblical one which seems more industrial, auto shops and less Jesus, Lazarus, and lepers) and making a huge snaking swing east and south to get to the bedraggled neighborhood of Abu Dis. Let’s not even mention the increased use of fuel, the challenged shock absorbers that need constant repair, the choking air pollution, the lost time and rising aggravation, and the need to plan life around buses and permits and when is it safe in the first place to try the daring trip to school. What do these people have to complain about anyway????
We meet with Hani Abdeen, the dignified and somewhat burned out dean of the medical school, neat mustache, wire rimmed glasses, striped shirt, very old school, and I feel like this should be called: soldiering on against all odds. Al Quds Medical School was founded in 1994 and graduated its 14th class last week, for a total of 720 graduates to date. Hani is very pleased with his students. He brags that they do very well on qualifying exams for residencies all over the Western world: Canada, US, Europe, “The students are doing a good job, under duress people excel. We do not have a large faculty, all the resources, teaching materials, yet with all these short comings students do well. In the USMLE (US Medical Licensing Exam) Palestinian students are in the top 1% of foreign graduates.” What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.
This is of particular interest to me as the health and human rights project was involved in starting an exchange program between Harvard and Al Quds Medical School and the students rotate through Harvard hospitals and receive, “glowing reports.” Hani is very worried that while the medical school is doing a good job, they are essentially, “training doctors for America, there is a big brain drain. Once they see how good life is, the standards of medicine, they leave and stay where they train.” He notes this is a problem for all of the third world.
Sadly, “even if they train, but should come back, we are starved of medical personnel.” Hani notes that there is not one well trained hematologist or nephrologist in the occupied territories, and this is true in much of surgery, medicine, and ob-gyn as well. I am surprised to hear him say, “One way to address this: how to change ratio male to female. He notes that now the med school class is 60% female and he wants to increase this to 75% females, “because they stay, they are more loyal to their societies, stay with families and are more of use to the Palestinian population!” His theory is that females, “do much better on post high school exams, have less diversions, are more focused, while males have other goals, politics, etc.” He wonders if women, “may be more intelligent, or more driven to try to prove themselves.” I am not sure how to wrap my brain around this reverse sexism, but I have to agree, this is a creative solution to a vexing problem. I secretly wonder if once again, women hold up (more than) half the sky, put up with the less dynamic careers and keep the family functional.
“We don’t have good residency training, do not have the hospitals, and Israelis do not let us. Everything you build, then there is a fracas and then the whole thing collapses again. This is a big problem. Two days ago, the IDF entered the university at night, wreaked havoc on the infrastructure,” and they did the same at a university in Jenin and in Bethlehem, (remember the policy of collective punishment). There are repeated mass arrests of students and professors, (collective punishment-still illegal). “Obviously what is happening, the Israelis are not interested in Palestinians having their own entity, all they want is ethnic cleansing, get rid of Palestinians and evict them. We are trying to develop, but nipped in the bud…We are fed up with all this talk about human rights. This is how it is on the ground…It makes your blood boil, there is a limit; what are the Israelis trying to do? They have Nobel laureates, etc, in Israel, but don’t they understand what is going on?”
The grinding reality is revealed by the fact that three weeks ago students were about to start two weeks of final exams. But students from Hebron (25 of 80) couldn’t get permits, so the exams were delayed and now as the clampdown continues, (people with IDs from Hebron are unable to travel), students are taking their exams at home from a computer or on pen and paper (you know, that little problem of needing electricity and internet connection while occupied), so the work is multiplied.
“Imagine [a student] prepared for exam, then cannot take it, then bunched together, this creates psychological trauma, [but] we do not have enough psychiatrists. There is not one child psychiatrist in the occupied territories.” Students get supports from tutors, secretaries. “One of our faculty’s house was ransacked in the night, I do not why.” He lived in Hebron, guilty as charged. “This happened to students’ families as well, imagine preparing for exams, the students 17 to 18 years old,” and then the “oasis of democracy in Mideast” enters their bedrooms at night, finger on the trigger. So what does a 17 year old do with all that trauma and rage?
Hani describes what is going on, “It is madness. We need to educate Israeli society, the majority is ignorant of what is happening in the West Bank. The separation wall is a psychological barrier. They have succeeded, everyone behind the wall is a terrorist, and they are not interested in knowing what is happening. What is needed, to educate Israelis, how to get out of their isolation ghetto mentality. We are also in a ghetto, two ghettos, this is more important than educating the Arab world. Human life is sacred, if you want to live with neighbors peacefully, then why are you doing this… Arabs, what have they done to Israelis? How many [Israelis] killed in buses? They [IDF] killed over a 1,000 people in Gaza. This is disproportionate killings; they are all the same, even doctors are participating in force feeding prisoners.”
Hani’s exasperated frustration is palpable. He states he is, “disenchanted with building bridges, when it comes to the crunch, they are professional killers. It is heart breaking as a medical professional, those people who they are detaining have not participated in any crimes.” There is “no court of law.”
We try to focus on the medical school, a six year program that starts after high school. Hani describes a traditional curriculum that is changing to a more integrated organ-based approach next year. The first three years involve basic sciences, the last three years are clinical. They are also planning on a graduate entry program, four years of medical training after college, like most US programs. Students at Al Quds do their clinical rotations at affiliated hospitals like Al Mokassed, Augusta Victoria, St. Johns, and the Red Crescent Hospital in Jerusalem and hospitals in Hebron, Ramallah, and Jericho in the West Bank. He says there is a curriculum for the different clinical settings, but this is in theory only. The hitch is that the first rate hospitals are all in East Jerusalem, so only the students that can get permits to enter Jerusalem can go on these rotations and the rest of the students are forced to train in what are seen as second rate facilities.
But medical care is even more complicated. The Ministry of Health runs community based clinics and the NGO, Palestinian Medical Relief Society, has clinics that are focused on providing health care to poorly served communities. Hani suggests that all of these settings have issues around quality of care and he wants his students to learn medicine “in a proper manner.” The quality issue is a big one. There are “no post graduate courses here,” no continuing medical education courses, (in the US I am required to do 50 hours of CMEs per year and that is part of the task of staying up to date). Additionally, “Everyone doesn’t have a computer, cannot travel, cannot access villages, so logistics are big problem.” The school has no connection with UNRWA, the UN agency that provides health care in the refugee camps, and that care tends to be low quality, overwhelmed and underfunded.
In Gaza, the medical school, Al Azhar, is under the tutelage of Al Quds and the Hamas run Islamic University also has the same curriculum. (Yes there are medical students filled with aspirations and drive in Gaza and they get caught in the incursions along with everyone else.) Hani reports that the graduates do well despite the conditions, (although the last time I checked, the Gaza hospitals were still recovering from being bombed to smithereens and unable to rebuild basic infrastructure like drinkable water and stocked pharmacies so I suspect he is being a bit upbeat here). There is also a medical school in Nablus, called an Najah.
Hani notes that the French government offers scholarships to two to three postgraduate students a year for PhDs in medical science or specialty training, others go to Jordan or the United Kingdom, “but they never come back.” He explains that the students make commitments to return, but then they buy themselves out. They are the top 1% in Palestine, high achievers, they want to be good doctors, but “our hospitals and infrastructure are not conducive to that. Nursing is not that good, physical therapy is not that good. It is not a solid team, so it is much harder to do medicine here. The pay is better, standard of living, career development all better outside.”
I wonder why Hani is still here. He trained in the United Kingdom, but “my mother was ill and alone so I came back [thinking] I will stay for a year and then I got myself sucked up.” The immense need, the possibility to build something better, the inertia and grinding difficulty of getting through each day let alone planning a career or an escape, the small victories and sense of place, and then family and commitment and decades later…. He finds himself still here, talking politics and medicine with some curious folks from the US who are trying to understand.
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Blog # 29 June 25, 2014 Teaching in the ghetto
Blog # 29 June 25, 2014
Teaching in the ghetto
The Jerusalem neighborhood of Abu Dis ended up on the wrong side of the wall; every time bus #36 from East Jerusalem turns this particular corner and there is the monstrous “barrier” (which is quite a euphemism ) up close and personal, all eight meters high of poured concrete stretching along the edge of the road, (or rather defining the edge of the road and in some ways, the edge of existence), I have the distinct impression that military/city planner types are giving us and all the wrong-side-people, a gigantic concrete finger in the eye. Most of Al Quds University is on the wrong side too, (if you live in Jerusalem and of course on the right side if you live in Ramallah or Tulkarem or Jenin or Hebron). For students who are old enough to remember, getting to school from East Jerusalem used to be easy and quick. Now, the journey involves a long tunnel, skirting Ma’ale Adumim, (one of the largest Jewish settlements or shall we just be honest and say colonies on the West Bank), swinging through Bethany, (the biblical one which seems more industrial, auto shops and less Jesus, Lazarus, and lepers) and making a huge snaking swing east and south to get to the bedraggled neighborhood of Abu Dis. Let’s not even mention the increased use of fuel, the challenged shock absorbers that need constant repair, the choking air pollution, the lost time and rising aggravation, and the need to plan life around buses and permits and when is it safe in the first place to try the daring trip to school. What do these people have to complain about anyway????
We meet with Hani Abdeen, the dignified and somewhat burned out dean of the medical school, neat mustache, wire rimmed glasses, striped shirt, very old school, and I feel like this should be called: soldiering on against all odds. Al Quds Medical School was founded in 1994 and graduated its 14th class last week, for a total of 720 graduates to date. Hani is very pleased with his students. He brags that they do very well on qualifying exams for residencies all over the Western world: Canada, US, Europe, “The students are doing a good job, under duress people excel. We do not have a large faculty, all the resources, teaching materials, yet with all these short comings students do well. In the USMLE (US Medical Licensing Exam) Palestinian students are in the top 1% of foreign graduates.” What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.
This is of particular interest to me as the health and human rights project was involved in starting an exchange program between Harvard and Al Quds Medical School and the students rotate through Harvard hospitals and receive, “glowing reports.” Hani is very worried that while the medical school is doing a good job, they are essentially, “training doctors for America, there is a big brain drain. Once they see how good life is, the standards of medicine, they leave and stay where they train.” He notes this is a problem for all of the third world.
Sadly, “even if they train, but should come back, we are starved of medical personnel.” Hani notes that there is not one well trained hematologist or nephrologist in the occupied territories, and this is true in much of surgery, medicine, and ob-gyn as well. I am surprised to hear him say, “One way to address this: how to change ratio male to female. He notes that now the med school class is 60% female and he wants to increase this to 75% females, “because they stay, they are more loyal to their societies, stay with families and are more of use to the Palestinian population!” His theory is that females, “do much better on post high school exams, have less diversions, are more focused, while males have other goals, politics, etc.” He wonders if women, “may be more intelligent, or more driven to try to prove themselves.” I am not sure how to wrap my brain around this reverse sexism, but I have to agree, this is a creative solution to a vexing problem. I secretly wonder if once again, women hold up (more than) half the sky, put up with the less dynamic careers and keep the family functional.
“We don’t have good residency training, do not have the hospitals, and Israelis do not let us. Everything you build, then there is a fracas and then the whole thing collapses again. This is a big problem. Two days ago, the IDF entered the university at night, wreaked havoc on the infrastructure,” and they did the same at a university in Jenin and in Bethlehem, (remember the policy of collective punishment). There are repeated mass arrests of students and professors, (collective punishment-still illegal). “Obviously what is happening, the Israelis are not interested in Palestinians having their own entity, all they want is ethnic cleansing, get rid of Palestinians and evict them. We are trying to develop, but nipped in the bud…We are fed up with all this talk about human rights. This is how it is on the ground…It makes your blood boil, there is a limit; what are the Israelis trying to do? They have Nobel laureates, etc, in Israel, but don’t they understand what is going on?”
The grinding reality is revealed by the fact that three weeks ago students were about to start two weeks of final exams. But students from Hebron (25 of 80) couldn’t get permits, so the exams were delayed and now as the clampdown continues, (people with IDs from Hebron are unable to travel), students are taking their exams at home from a computer or on pen and paper (you know, that little problem of needing electricity and internet connection while occupied), so the work is multiplied.
“Imagine [a student] prepared for exam, then cannot take it, then bunched together, this creates psychological trauma, [but] we do not have enough psychiatrists. There is not one child psychiatrist in the occupied territories.” Students get supports from tutors, secretaries. “One of our faculty’s house was ransacked in the night, I do not why.” He lived in Hebron, guilty as charged. “This happened to students’ families as well, imagine preparing for exams, the students 17 to 18 years old,” and then the “oasis of democracy in Mideast” enters their bedrooms at night, finger on the trigger. So what does a 17 year old do with all that trauma and rage?
Hani describes what is going on, “It is madness. We need to educate Israeli society, the majority is ignorant of what is happening in the West Bank. The separation wall is a psychological barrier. They have succeeded, everyone behind the wall is a terrorist, and they are not interested in knowing what is happening. What is needed, to educate Israelis, how to get out of their isolation ghetto mentality. We are also in a ghetto, two ghettos, this is more important than educating the Arab world. Human life is sacred, if you want to live with neighbors peacefully, then why are you doing this… Arabs, what have they done to Israelis? How many [Israelis] killed in buses? They [IDF] killed over a 1,000 people in Gaza. This is disproportionate killings; they are all the same, even doctors are participating in force feeding prisoners.”
Hani’s exasperated frustration is palpable. He states he is, “disenchanted with building bridges, when it comes to the crunch, they are professional killers. It is heart breaking as a medical professional, those people who they are detaining have not participated in any crimes.” There is “no court of law.”
We try to focus on the medical school, a six year program that starts after high school. Hani describes a traditional curriculum that is changing to a more integrated organ-based approach next year. The first three years involve basic sciences, the last three years are clinical. They are also planning on a graduate entry program, four years of medical training after college, like most US programs. Students at Al Quds do their clinical rotations at affiliated hospitals like Al Mokassed, Augusta Victoria, St. Johns, and the Red Crescent Hospital in Jerusalem and hospitals in Hebron, Ramallah, and Jericho in the West Bank. He says there is a curriculum for the different clinical settings, but this is in theory only. The hitch is that the first rate hospitals are all in East Jerusalem, so only the students that can get permits to enter Jerusalem can go on these rotations and the rest of the students are forced to train in what are seen as second rate facilities.
But medical care is even more complicated. The Ministry of Health runs community based clinics and the NGO, Palestinian Medical Relief Society, has clinics that are focused on providing health care to poorly served communities. Hani suggests that all of these settings have issues around quality of care and he wants his students to learn medicine “in a proper manner.” The quality issue is a big one. There are “no post graduate courses here,” no continuing medical education courses, (in the US I am required to do 50 hours of CMEs per year and that is part of the task of staying up to date). Additionally, “Everyone doesn’t have a computer, cannot travel, cannot access villages, so logistics are big problem.” The school has no connection with UNRWA, the UN agency that provides health care in the refugee camps, and that care tends to be low quality, overwhelmed and underfunded.
In Gaza, the medical school, Al Azhar, is under the tutelage of Al Quds and the Hamas run Islamic University also has the same curriculum. (Yes there are medical students filled with aspirations and drive in Gaza and they get caught in the incursions along with everyone else.) Hani reports that the graduates do well despite the conditions, (although the last time I checked, the Gaza hospitals were still recovering from being bombed to smithereens and unable to rebuild basic infrastructure like drinkable water and stocked pharmacies so I suspect he is being a bit upbeat here). There is also a medical school in Nablus, called an Najah.
Hani notes that the French government offers scholarships to two to three postgraduate students a year for PhDs in medical science or specialty training, others go to Jordan or the United Kingdom, “but they never come back.” He explains that the students make commitments to return, but then they buy themselves out. They are the top 1% in Palestine, high achievers, they want to be good doctors, but “our hospitals and infrastructure are not conducive to that. Nursing is not that good, physical therapy is not that good. It is not a solid team, so it is much harder to do medicine here. The pay is better, standard of living, care
Monday, July 7, 2014
Blog # 28 June 24, 2014 Traveling while occupied
Blog # 28 June 24, 2014
Traveling while occupied
Blogging retrospectively is a challenge, I am reporting from the ground and the ground is in constant seismic shift mode.
Let me acknowledge that the deaths of the three kidnapped Israeli youths Gil-Ad Shaer, Naftali Fraenkel, and Eyal Yifrah provided the Israeli leadership with the opportunity to unleash a horrific barrage of military might, home incursions, arrests, and killings that had little to do with a careful investigation of the crime and the capture of the perpetrators. Collective punishment is still all the rage and at this point I would just call it official policy. Even the Israeli generals are trying to tone down the let’s destroy Hamas rhetoric coming out of our dear Prime Minister’s mouth. The abduction, killing and burning of Mohammed Abu Khdeir, on the other hand, is being approached in a totally different manner; there is the police statement that they are not sure if the murder was “nationalistic” ie done by an Israeli, or “criminal” ie done by a Palestinian. Then there was the false rumor put out by the police that Mohammed was gay and that this was some kind of revenge killing by the homophobic family. (not) To the Palestinians in Shuafat, a neighborhood of East Jerusalem, this is clearly a revenge killing and to my eye, given the explosion of Arab hatred, the attempt two days earlier to kidnap a ten year old called Mousa Zalum, (his parents called the police, no one responded), and the gangs of right wing Jewish teenagers roaming the streets of Jerusalem chanting “Death to the Arabs!” I vote with the Palestinians. Maybe we should just go demolish a few Israeli homes and arrest a bunch of teenagers, probably start with the lovelies in Hebron and Kiryat Arba, oh, but we don’t do that to Jews. As East Jerusalem explodes, the police use live fire on the inhabitants in the neighborhood, (ID carriers and Israeli citizens), (also read: not Jews).
To give this a little context, according to official statistics, since September 2000, more than 1,400 Palestinian children have been killed by the Israeli military, which is equivalent to one child killed every three days, and some 6,000 injured in the past 13 or so years. I think a year of national mourning is in order but this is a military occupation and well, what can I say about who counts and who doesn’t. Which brings us to some other realities of daily life.
I was hoping to tell you more about the realities of occupation, in particular, traveling while occupied. I (and every Palestinian I know) always dreads Kalandia checkpoint, the major checkpoint between Jerusalem and Ramallah. It is a chaotic, traffic plagued, military terminal with guard towers and concrete walls and grimy garbage and narrow turnstiles, and people waiting, waiting, waiting. Faces range from utter resignation and defeat to outright indignation and rage. I vary.
There is a sign on entry that says in English and Arabic: “Please keep terminal clean,” but the Hebrew reads: “Please keep order and cleanliness.” Can’t trust those frisky Arabs to stay in line. People queue in narrow chutes, two to three feet wide, with vertical floor to ceiling bars, and an excruciatingly narrow turnstile that makes passage with luggage, shopping bags, or small children a humiliating joke. The turnstile is controlled by the Israeli security and I note that even the green light does not necessarily mean the bars will turn. Once in the maize, bags are x-rayed and I walk through the metal detector. Sometimes in protest I do not take off my watch and the metal detector buzzes and no one cares, sometimes they do. I then approach a bullet proof window where I press my passport up against the glass and sometimes get the attention of a 20 something in uniform on the other side. Sometimes not, there is always a cup of coffee, or phone call, or….Communication is challenging. Two members of our delegation were pulled aside for extra security investigation and were asked questions like: “Do you love Israel?” “Are you afraid of us?” “Are you sure you are not an Israeli citizen?” “Do you love Palestinians?” (Really). Then there are more turnstiles of the humiliation you-are-a-rat-in-a-cage and-we-really-control-you-in-case-you-did-not-already-get-the-message variety and then you are free (to fight for a taxi or a bus or a service with the license plate appropriate for whichever side you are on now. On the “other side” I note a sign in Arabic that says: “Judea and Samaria,” in case you are not clear on the concept. My recollection is that there is a sign in English that says, “Have a good day!” or some such thing.
So I was thinking, if I were bent on revenge, or strapped in a suicide vest (this is about security right) would I really hazard a visit through Kalandia? I think not. So what is this massive, time consuming demoralizing daily exercise about? Control and humiliation comes to mind. Also, it might just be easier to stay home and skip the visit to Al Aqsa this year, if one were lucky enough to get a permit in the first place.
Attachments area
Traveling while occupied
Blogging retrospectively is a challenge, I am reporting from the ground and the ground is in constant seismic shift mode.
Let me acknowledge that the deaths of the three kidnapped Israeli youths Gil-Ad Shaer, Naftali Fraenkel, and Eyal Yifrah provided the Israeli leadership with the opportunity to unleash a horrific barrage of military might, home incursions, arrests, and killings that had little to do with a careful investigation of the crime and the capture of the perpetrators. Collective punishment is still all the rage and at this point I would just call it official policy. Even the Israeli generals are trying to tone down the let’s destroy Hamas rhetoric coming out of our dear Prime Minister’s mouth. The abduction, killing and burning of Mohammed Abu Khdeir, on the other hand, is being approached in a totally different manner; there is the police statement that they are not sure if the murder was “nationalistic” ie done by an Israeli, or “criminal” ie done by a Palestinian. Then there was the false rumor put out by the police that Mohammed was gay and that this was some kind of revenge killing by the homophobic family. (not) To the Palestinians in Shuafat, a neighborhood of East Jerusalem, this is clearly a revenge killing and to my eye, given the explosion of Arab hatred, the attempt two days earlier to kidnap a ten year old called Mousa Zalum, (his parents called the police, no one responded), and the gangs of right wing Jewish teenagers roaming the streets of Jerusalem chanting “Death to the Arabs!” I vote with the Palestinians. Maybe we should just go demolish a few Israeli homes and arrest a bunch of teenagers, probably start with the lovelies in Hebron and Kiryat Arba, oh, but we don’t do that to Jews. As East Jerusalem explodes, the police use live fire on the inhabitants in the neighborhood, (ID carriers and Israeli citizens), (also read: not Jews).
To give this a little context, according to official statistics, since September 2000, more than 1,400 Palestinian children have been killed by the Israeli military, which is equivalent to one child killed every three days, and some 6,000 injured in the past 13 or so years. I think a year of national mourning is in order but this is a military occupation and well, what can I say about who counts and who doesn’t. Which brings us to some other realities of daily life.
I was hoping to tell you more about the realities of occupation, in particular, traveling while occupied. I (and every Palestinian I know) always dreads Kalandia checkpoint, the major checkpoint between Jerusalem and Ramallah. It is a chaotic, traffic plagued, military terminal with guard towers and concrete walls and grimy garbage and narrow turnstiles, and people waiting, waiting, waiting. Faces range from utter resignation and defeat to outright indignation and rage. I vary.
There is a sign on entry that says in English and Arabic: “Please keep terminal clean,” but the Hebrew reads: “Please keep order and cleanliness.” Can’t trust those frisky Arabs to stay in line. People queue in narrow chutes, two to three feet wide, with vertical floor to ceiling bars, and an excruciatingly narrow turnstile that makes passage with luggage, shopping bags, or small children a humiliating joke. The turnstile is controlled by the Israeli security and I note that even the green light does not necessarily mean the bars will turn. Once in the maize, bags are x-rayed and I walk through the metal detector. Sometimes in protest I do not take off my watch and the metal detector buzzes and no one cares, sometimes they do. I then approach a bullet proof window where I press my passport up against the glass and sometimes get the attention of a 20 something in uniform on the other side. Sometimes not, there is always a cup of coffee, or phone call, or….Communication is challenging. Two members of our delegation were pulled aside for extra security investigation and were asked questions like: “Do you love Israel?” “Are you afraid of us?” “Are you sure you are not an Israeli citizen?” “Do you love Palestinians?” (Really). Then there are more turnstiles of the humiliation you-are-a-rat-in-a-cage and-we-really-control-you-in-case-you-did-not-already-get-the-message variety and then you are free (to fight for a taxi or a bus or a service with the license plate appropriate for whichever side you are on now. On the “other side” I note a sign in Arabic that says: “Judea and Samaria,” in case you are not clear on the concept. My recollection is that there is a sign in English that says, “Have a good day!” or some such thing.
So I was thinking, if I were bent on revenge, or strapped in a suicide vest (this is about security right) would I really hazard a visit through Kalandia? I think not. So what is this massive, time consuming demoralizing daily exercise about? Control and humiliation comes to mind. Also, it might just be easier to stay home and skip the visit to Al Aqsa this year, if one were lucky enough to get a permit in the first place.
Attachments area
Blog # 27 June 23, 2014 part three Building dreamers in a nightmare
Blog # 27 June 23, 2014 part three
Building dreamers in a nightmare
I write this blog belatedly about a visit to the Old City of Jerusalem and Yasser Qous, an Afro-Palestinian who runs a youth center in a cavernous stone structure dating back to the twelfth century. And because this is about two visits in June that now feel like a decade ago, I need to acknowledge the murder of the three Hebron settler youth and the frightening revenge/pogrom- like behavior that now characterizes the Israeli military and some of its citizens. Perhaps if you get to know some of the folks who are now at risk, (ie any Palestinian), although they were at risk before, it was just more invisible, you too will be filled with dread and worry and horror.
Yasser Qous is wearing a dashiki and has a warm open face, a shaved head, and a rolled cigarette in his mouth. He is dark, has very expressive hands, and an intelligent, laid back manner. He says, “The Old City is like our house,” and welcomes us as if we are his personal guests. He grew up here, became active as a student at Bethlehem University, his father came from Chad in 1952. He works with city youth doing photography, alternative media, and is involved in psychosocial interventions around issues like drugs and sexual abuse. He comments that there are no addiction treatment centers, that drug use is a symptom of hopelessness and lack of opportunity and thus is a political problem. His program is preventive rather than treatment oriented. He finds that the Israeli government is only concerned with drug use when it starts affecting Jewish youth. There are the usual stories of house demolitions and a new policy of house arrest for teens.
We see a drop-in café with sprawling couches, drinks and ice cream, and a TV that is nonstop World Cup. He is very excited about the upcoming Ramadan events, there is a competition between neighborhoods for the best light decorations. (This is starting to look a bit like Christmas in Queens). He explains that the rituals of Ramadan include all night celebrations with Sufi dancing and music, followed by quiet, (thirsty) days. I am told that hunger is less of an issue around day three of the fast which starts with the morning prayer (3-4ish am) to sunset.
Since unemployment is such a huge problem in East Jerusalem, (60% poverty rate for Palestinians in East Jerusalem), the center is involved in training and supporting small business. They are part of a tourism coalition that sells handicrafts, but the crafts are all from Nablus and Hebron. “What is the East Jerusalem identity?” he asks. The center is involved in reviving East Jerusalem handicrafts based on research and training. They have a good relationship with a French development agency and an upcoming project involves supporting ten street sellers, (they all need permission from Israel). Twenty youth will be trained to create a photo studio on Al-Wad Street (the main street); they will take photos of the Old City and sell them, create and sell handmade accessories, and do alternative socially oriented tours from 4 pm to midnight. They also do art and music, have a band, dance dabke (traditional Palestinian dance), hip hop, and capoeira. They have made good relationships with African-American students from the US and did an event for a South African representative.
Yasser explains that most Africans came in the fifteenth century to Jerusalem as Moslem pilgrims on the Hage (to pray at Mecca and Al Aqsa), but many settled here, particularly towards the end of the Ottoman Empire and during the British Mandate when it became more difficult to go home. This youth center was previously a prison after the Arab revolt, before that a compound/hospice called a Ribat, [see Wikipedia: A ribat (Arabic: رباط; ribāṭ, hospice, hostel, base or retreat) is an Arabic term for a small fortification as built along a frontier during the first years of the Muslim conquest of North Africa to house military volunteers, called the murabitun. These fortifications later served to protect commercial routes, and as centers for isolated Muslim communities. Ribats were first seen in the 8th century.” This compound is the oldest Ribat in Jerusalem, founded by a Mamluk Sultan who brought slaves from Egypt.
With the British Mandate, the property went to the Mufte and the African community settled here. After 1948, half left to Jordan, some to Lebanon, and others to Jericho, Tulkarem, Khan Younis in Gaza, and the Negev. There are now 350 mostly Afro-Palestinians in Jerusalem out of a total 183,000 Palestinians in the East Jerusalem municipality; they call themselves “coconuts,” Black outside, Palestinian inside. Their main connection with each other lies with the Hage. They have been part of Palestinian resistance, martyrs in all the wars, and many have been imprisoned. The first female political prisoner was Afro-Palestinian and she spent 13 years incarcerated. The neighborhood is subjected to frequent collective punishment at the hands of Israeli security. Many have intermarried with Palestinians, “marriage is between families, not individuals, we want someone from the same class.” They are proud of their roots but not well connected to Africa, are Muslims and Christians, and face discrimination, (Black, Palestinian, lower class), and high employment in Jerusalem. Most are from Nigeria, Senegal, Sudan, and Chad.
A week later he takes the delegation on a tour of East Jerusalem, through the many Christian and Muslim sites (Fourteen stations of the cross, Church of the Holy Sepulcher where Christ was crucified). Interesting tidbit, by legal tradition, a Muslim family opens and closes the church each day because there was too much fighting for the honor between the many Christian sects. He keeps advising us to “stay in the shadow” so we won’t get roasted by the sun. A right wing Jewish group, Ateret Cohanim, which conveniently has established a yeshiva in the Muslim Quarter, using Palestinian collaborators, rents and sells houses to Jews and displaces Palestinians. (That’s the goal). We see four Jewish families in their gated and guarded home, guards walk the Jews out of the Muslim Quarter to the Jewish Quarter, (which was depopulated of Jews in 1948 when it was taken by the Jordanians). Yasser explains that not only are these folks expanding into Muslim and Christian sectors (no one else can get permits FYI) but they are creating a Jewish ghetto for themselves. In the Jewish sector, which is obviously well funded and pristine from an archeological and tourist point of view, there is evidence of all the different conquerors who built on top of the preexisting civilizations. We wander down the Cardo, the ancient Roman market with a multistory excavation. Armed security guards escort herds of young children to their destinations, and I can only think, they look like tough teen boy babysitters with guns and walky talkies, and what are the children learning from this daily experience? Life is dangerous and “they” all want to kill us?
The center created the Longest Chain of Readers at Damascus Gate, 6,000 kids reading books and then donating them to libraries. They were celebrating a kite festival with 300 children, but the IDF attacked the event and destroyed the kites. (Do they really have to be this way?)
When Yasser was ten years old he was given a book, “Children of Palestine,” and the introduction explained that life is like theater, there is the audience and there are the players. It was at that point he decided that he wanted to be a player. Just imagine the dreams that were crushed in those flying kites. So why are kids throwing stones? Wouldn’t you?
Blog # 26 July 1, 2014 Airport hasbara
Blog # 26 July 1, 2014
Airport hasbara
The talk on the cab radio is all about the murder of the three
settler teens, their bodies were found.
I am too disconnected to know the awful details but I recognize the
outraged voices and the words Hamas and Philistini over and over. A great
sadness and fear settles over me.
I worry about my Palestinian friends and feel for the mothers’ of the
dead boys and tremble at what wave of rage Netanyahu will unleash now. I
suspect he will use this catastrophe to make a big attempt to destroy Hamas and
eliminate the unity government, but that is a private speculation.
The airport feels remarkably normal, as Jonathan Cook noted
last week, there are no more security attack lines and I feel less under
siege. One female security guard
asks me if I received any gifts in Israel and I brain scan the contents of my
bags and decide to say, “Yes.”
“What?”
“Embroidery.”
“Embroidery?”
“You know, handicrafts.”
“Where from?”
“Jerusalem”
“From whom?”
My tired mind freezes, what would be a reasonable answer?
Why did I say yes? In that split second, the security officer goes on the
offensive.
“You do not know her name?” Is she really accusing me of
accepting a gift from a stranger, (something really dangerous like an
embroidered wall hanging that says “Welcome to our home.”) or is the tone and
aggressiveness just cultural or both.
I come up with a safe and reasonable friend with an Italian name and
American citizenship. My bags are
tagged, I check other bags and they have the same tags as me. Either we are all
in trouble or we are all okay. I sail through the security check, it fascinates
me that liquids, water bottles, and shoes are not a threat here. Does anyone
know what they are doing? A
repeating video reassures us that the baggage screening in Ben Gurion Airport
is the most modern, high tech in the world so no worries. We have everything under control. Passport
control is a piece of cake, apparently I am not in their system, as it should
be. After all, I have not done
anything illegal.
There is always a major photo exhibit on the long ramp into
the duty free zone and food court and this year it is on civil aviation. I study the framing and language, after
all, this is Israel’s final chance at hasbara
(propaganda messaging) for all the happy tourists going home to spread the word
about the miracles of Zionism.
As would be expected, the tone is heroic, nationalistic, and
full of struggle and victory: “Hundred years after the first airplane touched
the ground of the Promised Land, the Israeli Airports Authority makes
revolution in the aviation world….” My quirky brain asks, “Promised Land” for
whom exactly? It all started with a French aviator landing on a Tel Aviv Beach
in 1913. There are frequent references to “’Eretz Yisrael’” (Israel),” again
the actual translation would be the Land of Israel and the real name of the
place at that time was inconveniently Palestine.
The makers of the exhibit understand
the vast arc of history: “Evolution of the civil aviation in the 1930s didn’t
skip the Jewish population in ‘Eretz Yisrael’ (Israel). The Jewish national
institutions’ leaders fully understood the economic and security importance of
the Jewish aviation for the future of the Jewish population.” It is interesting that Palestine
Airways was started in 1937 in what is referred to as “Lydda (Lod),” an
unexpected nod to an Arab city now renamed and transformed. On the other hand,
the messaging is clearly reflective of Zionist mythology building, “From its
first days, the civil aviation in Israel was interlinked with the Zionist ethos
and symbolized the technological progress.” Of note, the early aviation clubs
and flight schools in the 1930s were linked to the Haganah, a Jewish
paramilitary organization, and to the Irgun, described as ““The national
military organization of the land of Israel.” No mention of who they were fighting and the political assumptions
of Jewish exceptionalism and justified violence undergirding the effort, (wrong
story).
There are archival photos of the Yemenite “Operation Magic
Carpet” in 1949 and the Ethiopian Jews arriving with the “Moses Operation” from
1984 to 1985, flown from refugee camps in Sudan through Belgium to Israel. A
document reviews the many clandestine flights from Yemen and Iraq from 1948 to
1952, from the Soviet Union from the 1970s to 1990s, and then the Ethiopians in
the 1980s. The language fascinates
me: the references to some mythical Arabic tale or biblical exodus. This was
all demographics disguised as rescue from what I can see. We need more Jews, the Holocaust
decimated the preferred type, so now we will take Arabs and Blacks and even not
exactly Jewish Russians. Am I
being too cynical?
The archival photos reveal pilots who are all white
Ashkenazi men, and then there is the Arab worker with some kind of machine
labeled “aerospace industry production worker,” probably Yemenite. The racial and class differences
already apparent if you care to look.
The airplanes were called the “Iron Birds” and the pilots, “the Knights of the
Skies,” again the messaging is all strength and heroism that leads to the
establishment of modern Israeli companies, now celebrating 10 years after the
construction of this current snazzy terminal, “One of the most modern security
inspection systems in the world.” Israel will keep you safe.
Passengers are left with messaging that is full of nostalgia
without all the messy details, reflections on past struggles and victories to
come. Tell the world the glorious story of Israel as you head towards the
glittering Duty Free zone. There
is no occupation, no Apache helicopters in Gaza, no dead settler children, no
Palestinian resistance or for that matter, Palestinian anything. As I said, with my binocular vision, a
great sadness and fear settles over me.
Obviously, I didn’t get the message.
Blog # 25 June 30, 2014 part two How do you say shalom in Tigrenya?
Blog # 25 June 30, 2014 part two
How do you say shalom in Tigrenya?
Ran takes me into the Open Clinic for some reality based learning. The rooms are basic health center with shelves of paper charts and two volunteers engaged with their computers. The dress is casual shorts and tank tops, the waiting room rows of black plastic chairs. Today is appointments only with the specialist, so I will not be seeing the usual flood of humanity, the human refuse as Lady Liberty would say.
Ran explains that in Israel, much like the US, if someone presents with a life threatening emergency to a hospital, they must receive care. (Good!) But everything else, including things that are in the long term life threatening, like out of control diabetes, is turned away if the patient has no insurance. (Health care as a privilege not a right.) And of course long term rehabilitation, mental health, medical follow up for chronic disease, is hindered by access, language, poverty, and culture. Since 1998 the Open Clinic has seen 35,000 patients and many travel from far to be seen. PHR used to serve mostly migrant workers, (after Palestinians from the territories were no longer permitted to work in Israel and employees started importing low level workers from Thailand, the Philippines, and the rest of the Third World.) Now PHR is mostly seeing asylum seekers and these folks are different: their communities are weaker, their leaders are under arrest; they are usually not working and suffer from all the ills of poverty. They are alive often because they are basically physically resilient young men. While much of the medications are donated and thus free to the patients, they often need shekels to get home, to eat. They are a more desperate population than the migrant workers. The clinicians are seeing more diabetes and hypertension, there are 3,000 volunteers, but 800 or so are really active in the organization doing regular clinics.
The Open Clinic sees 5,000 patients a year, “less patients but bigger problems than before,” and includes general medicine, ob/gyn, pediatrics, and mental health. I sit down with the clinic coordinator, a feisty, dedicated young woman, former engineer, masters in international relations, and now a paid employee. Her job is to negotiate for the patients, to find the least costly most possible appointments for specialists, labs, hospital procedures, surgery, and cancer therapy. Working with Assaf, a social care organization, they address medical as well as social issues like homelessness. She also is involved with UNHCR and helps refugees resettle in countries like Sweden, Denmark, or Norway, obtain citizenship, and then medical care for severe chronic illnesses. I try to imagine fleeing something horrific in Sudan, running/hiding/walking across the Sinai, detention in Holot, some terrifying disease in a strange country, and then you end up in a place where everyone is blond, there is no sunlight half the time, winters are really cold, and the language is beyond comprehension. And you are sick and alone? This is staggering; the coordinator admits to many sleepless nights and desperate phone calls.
She talks about how the clinic is seeing many young patients with kidney failure and diabetes, maybe a consequence of toxic pesticide use, of Africans dying of AIDS in Israel in 2014, “This is ridiculous.” And then in 2010, Sister Azezet who volunteers at the clinic noticed many pregnant women coming in asking for late term abortions, with unusual injuries and trauma. The Sister interviewed 1,300 women and discovered the rape and torture camps, the human trafficking in the Sinai, and brought this to international attention. “No one asked, what happened to you?” This is health care in its broadest social context.
The law in Israel now states that if an employer hires a migrant worker, they have to pay for health insurance. But when the employee gets sick, they get fired, and poof, no insurance. So the Open Clinic sees many Eritreans (they now have an interpreter), as well as migrant workers from the Philippines, China, and India. And then there are the folks from Nigeria, the Congo, Ivory Coast, and Guinea who have overstayed their work permits and live in the shadows, at risk for deportation at any time. Add to that a small number of Russians who arrived with the big migration but are not recognized as Jews and thus have no health insurance, (really? Insurance for Jews only?) and the Palestinian women from the territories who married Palestinian men with Israeli citizenship and are unable to obtain legal status.
PHR is doing advocacy work on behalf of the asylum seekers now detained in Holot, they have gone to the Supreme Court applying for release from the center, stressing the illegality of detaining these men. She notes that public opinion is definitely against the refugees who have been defined by Israeli government mind makers as “infiltrators,” PHR is accused of supporting criminals, rapists, and disease carrying Africans, the scary faceless black other. “It is hard to humanize them.”
The first women the coordinator sees today is a 55 year old Pilipino woman who has been in Israel for 11 years, has had no contact with her family during this time, speaks fluent Hebrew, and has recently had surgery for metastatic uterine cancer. She needs further treatment and the coordinator and I understand that she will most likely die alone and unhappy in Israel. I look at the pack of Marlboros next to the computer and the jumbo size bottle of Coke; this is burnout kind of work and the coordinator pours her heart into each case. The next patient, an Eritrean woman with a four year old son, also speaks Hebrew fluently, has a mass in her neck, brings lab results, and gets sent off to an ENT doctor. She is followed by an Eritrean man who speaks sort of English, has back pain and is unable to work, now is dizzy. She asks him to come back tomorrow for the general doctor. I suggest we check his blood pressure and it is significantly elevated.
I then join the GI specialist; he is a good hearted soul who is more in the classic doctor mode. He assesses each patient to see if there is anything life threatening or GI and does not sink his time into the vast psychosocial morass that is probably the source of much of the medical complaints. The first patient surprises me, a friendly well organized with lists and notes African-American woman from Kansas City, Missouri, who made aliyah with her family three years ago and is now living in Ashkelon, awaiting citizenship and health insurance. She has multiple medical problems including a life threatening liver disease and her granddaughter whose name is Aliyah is having her Bat Mitzvah in a week. “Can I drink wine for the blessing?” I would love to know the rest of her story!
She is followed by a series of Sudanese and Eritrean men with various levels of disease, lots of stress, experiences in the Holot detention camp, working or out of work, worrying about deportation, “I am not guilty, why keep me there?” Some speak Hebrew or a variant of English or Tigrenya. They are all thin, frightened, obviously depressed and sometimes angry; their eyes give them away. They are trying to negotiate a system that they do not understand, a language they do not speak, and a country that wants them to go away. The doctor does the best he can given the limited resources, the lack of communication between institutions, the need to beg and borrow to get medications, testing, results. No one is happy and I am haunted by the pained expressions and sorrow framing these difficult interactions. They say a society is only as strong as its weakest link and this link is clearly broken.
How do you say shalom in Tigrenya?
Ran takes me into the Open Clinic for some reality based learning. The rooms are basic health center with shelves of paper charts and two volunteers engaged with their computers. The dress is casual shorts and tank tops, the waiting room rows of black plastic chairs. Today is appointments only with the specialist, so I will not be seeing the usual flood of humanity, the human refuse as Lady Liberty would say.
Ran explains that in Israel, much like the US, if someone presents with a life threatening emergency to a hospital, they must receive care. (Good!) But everything else, including things that are in the long term life threatening, like out of control diabetes, is turned away if the patient has no insurance. (Health care as a privilege not a right.) And of course long term rehabilitation, mental health, medical follow up for chronic disease, is hindered by access, language, poverty, and culture. Since 1998 the Open Clinic has seen 35,000 patients and many travel from far to be seen. PHR used to serve mostly migrant workers, (after Palestinians from the territories were no longer permitted to work in Israel and employees started importing low level workers from Thailand, the Philippines, and the rest of the Third World.) Now PHR is mostly seeing asylum seekers and these folks are different: their communities are weaker, their leaders are under arrest; they are usually not working and suffer from all the ills of poverty. They are alive often because they are basically physically resilient young men. While much of the medications are donated and thus free to the patients, they often need shekels to get home, to eat. They are a more desperate population than the migrant workers. The clinicians are seeing more diabetes and hypertension, there are 3,000 volunteers, but 800 or so are really active in the organization doing regular clinics.
The Open Clinic sees 5,000 patients a year, “less patients but bigger problems than before,” and includes general medicine, ob/gyn, pediatrics, and mental health. I sit down with the clinic coordinator, a feisty, dedicated young woman, former engineer, masters in international relations, and now a paid employee. Her job is to negotiate for the patients, to find the least costly most possible appointments for specialists, labs, hospital procedures, surgery, and cancer therapy. Working with Assaf, a social care organization, they address medical as well as social issues like homelessness. She also is involved with UNHCR and helps refugees resettle in countries like Sweden, Denmark, or Norway, obtain citizenship, and then medical care for severe chronic illnesses. I try to imagine fleeing something horrific in Sudan, running/hiding/walking across the Sinai, detention in Holot, some terrifying disease in a strange country, and then you end up in a place where everyone is blond, there is no sunlight half the time, winters are really cold, and the language is beyond comprehension. And you are sick and alone? This is staggering; the coordinator admits to many sleepless nights and desperate phone calls.
She talks about how the clinic is seeing many young patients with kidney failure and diabetes, maybe a consequence of toxic pesticide use, of Africans dying of AIDS in Israel in 2014, “This is ridiculous.” And then in 2010, Sister Azezet who volunteers at the clinic noticed many pregnant women coming in asking for late term abortions, with unusual injuries and trauma. The Sister interviewed 1,300 women and discovered the rape and torture camps, the human trafficking in the Sinai, and brought this to international attention. “No one asked, what happened to you?” This is health care in its broadest social context.
The law in Israel now states that if an employer hires a migrant worker, they have to pay for health insurance. But when the employee gets sick, they get fired, and poof, no insurance. So the Open Clinic sees many Eritreans (they now have an interpreter), as well as migrant workers from the Philippines, China, and India. And then there are the folks from Nigeria, the Congo, Ivory Coast, and Guinea who have overstayed their work permits and live in the shadows, at risk for deportation at any time. Add to that a small number of Russians who arrived with the big migration but are not recognized as Jews and thus have no health insurance, (really? Insurance for Jews only?) and the Palestinian women from the territories who married Palestinian men with Israeli citizenship and are unable to obtain legal status.
PHR is doing advocacy work on behalf of the asylum seekers now detained in Holot, they have gone to the Supreme Court applying for release from the center, stressing the illegality of detaining these men. She notes that public opinion is definitely against the refugees who have been defined by Israeli government mind makers as “infiltrators,” PHR is accused of supporting criminals, rapists, and disease carrying Africans, the scary faceless black other. “It is hard to humanize them.”
The first women the coordinator sees today is a 55 year old Pilipino woman who has been in Israel for 11 years, has had no contact with her family during this time, speaks fluent Hebrew, and has recently had surgery for metastatic uterine cancer. She needs further treatment and the coordinator and I understand that she will most likely die alone and unhappy in Israel. I look at the pack of Marlboros next to the computer and the jumbo size bottle of Coke; this is burnout kind of work and the coordinator pours her heart into each case. The next patient, an Eritrean woman with a four year old son, also speaks Hebrew fluently, has a mass in her neck, brings lab results, and gets sent off to an ENT doctor. She is followed by an Eritrean man who speaks sort of English, has back pain and is unable to work, now is dizzy. She asks him to come back tomorrow for the general doctor. I suggest we check his blood pressure and it is significantly elevated.
I then join the GI specialist; he is a good hearted soul who is more in the classic doctor mode. He assesses each patient to see if there is anything life threatening or GI and does not sink his time into the vast psychosocial morass that is probably the source of much of the medical complaints. The first patient surprises me, a friendly well organized with lists and notes African-American woman from Kansas City, Missouri, who made aliyah with her family three years ago and is now living in Ashkelon, awaiting citizenship and health insurance. She has multiple medical problems including a life threatening liver disease and her granddaughter whose name is Aliyah is having her Bat Mitzvah in a week. “Can I drink wine for the blessing?” I would love to know the rest of her story!
She is followed by a series of Sudanese and Eritrean men with various levels of disease, lots of stress, experiences in the Holot detention camp, working or out of work, worrying about deportation, “I am not guilty, why keep me there?” Some speak Hebrew or a variant of English or Tigrenya. They are all thin, frightened, obviously depressed and sometimes angry; their eyes give them away. They are trying to negotiate a system that they do not understand, a language they do not speak, and a country that wants them to go away. The doctor does the best he can given the limited resources, the lack of communication between institutions, the need to beg and borrow to get medications, testing, results. No one is happy and I am haunted by the pained expressions and sorrow framing these difficult interactions. They say a society is only as strong as its weakest link and this link is clearly broken.
Sunday, July 6, 2014
Blog # 24 June 23, 2014 part two Water and salt
Blog # 24 June 23, 2014 part two
Water and salt
We meet with Randa Wahbe, the dedicated and articulate advocacy officer at Adameer, on the 61st day of the longest hunger strike by administrative detainees in Israeli jails. The strike is a political strike, ie. not for improved prison conditions, but for ending the Israeli policy of detaining people without charges or adequate access to a lawyer, sometimes for years, six years or more is not uncommon. At the time of our meeting, there had been no negotiations, but as I write this a week later, the strike has ended, some secret deal has been met, and there is mostly speculation: What was decided? Did the hunger strikers feel that this was not the right time when the public is obsessed by the three missing settlers and the World Cup and Ramadan? Who knows?
Whatever the outcome, prisoner issues are central to Palestinian liberation; 800,000 Palestinians have been arrested since 1967, 40% of the male population. Thousands of Palestinians are held in this limbo land of administrative detention. The striking prisoners are put into isolation, cannot go outside or have family visits, (they often do not see their families because of permitting and travel issues anyway). The prisoners receive monetary fines taken from their canteen account. Sometimes they have limited to or no access to lawyers or they are transferred around to different prison hospitals so the lawyer cannot locate them. At the time of our visit, there were at least 130 hunger strikers, the movement was growing and may have reached 300. The hunger strikers are beaten, denied medical care, and are only treated by prison doctors, (who clearly have lost their ethical compass), who are known to be abusive, dangle food or force feeding tubes in their faces. Prisoners are shackled 12 hours per day and as you can imagine, the conditions are pretty horrific.
The prisoners were drinking water and salt for 14 days; Randa reports the Israeli authorities then denied them salt, some may be taking some unknown supplements that “barely keep them alive. As an organization we are very concerned because of the lack of negotiation between the Israeli prison service and the prisoners, will there by martyrs?” A lot of administrative detainees are older than 60 and not striking, but other prisoners are striking in sympathy. There appears to be a trend to arrest Palestinians shortly after their 18th birthday as they can be tried as adults. The youngest hunger striker was arrested five days after his 18th birthday, “He is still a child, but he has been in prison for two years.” There have been over 400 arrests since the 12th of June, 77 are in administrative detention.
And then there is the heart breaking issue of child arrests. Although Israel technically changed its policy and has child courts, Randa reports that children are treated like adults. They are often arrested between midnight and five am, families don’t know where they are going. They are interrogated without a lawyer, not allowed to see their families. The military court judge is the same as for adults and Randa explains that the children are routinely tortured by their interrogators. This is mostly psychological torture, threats that they will be killed, sexually abused; they are put into solitary confinement, have florescent lights on 24 hours per day, placed in stress positions, and beaten. The forced confessions are then used to arrest adults in the community. So imagine you are an 18 year old boy, you have seen your father and grandfather humiliated at checkpoints, you have watched settlers steal your land and water, and very possibly, you have thrown stones at a passing Israeli jeep that has arrived to make your life a living hell. And then you crack in prison and are responsible for your own brother’s arrest. Many children never return to school, develop bed wetting and behavioral problems. With these brutal policies we are witnessing the slow destruction of Palestinian society and the creation of environments that will create more angry, hopeless, militant men seeking revenge. In Silwan, there is a 14 year old who has been arrested six times, mostly for throwing stones according to IDF soldiers or settlers. So why are we doing this Mr. Netanyahu? Palestinian parents pay fines to release their children and last year, Palestinians paid 13 million shekels into the Israeli military court, in a bizarre sense, financing their own imprisonment. And did I mention that prisons are increasingly privatized, sort of like the US?
In general, Randa explains, administrative detention under universal law is allowed if an individual is threatening the security of state. This should be used rarely. But in Israel, the military claims the Shin Bet has “secret files” that show that this person is a threat to the state. “This is used arbitrarily, there are obviously no files. Let’s look at who gets arrested: prominent activists, academics, regular folks. Recently a political scientist was released, after 2 ½ years without any charges. He has no idea why he was arrested this time, [suffice it to say that] he is an academic who writes about resistance, attends demonstrations, and has been in and out of prison for years. One of the hunger strikers is a prominent community member, part of an agricultural union who promotes farmers rights; he has been in and out of administrative detention for years and was rearrested in February.”
At the time of our visit, a bill to allow forced feeding was to be voted on in the Israeli Knesset, although forced feeding is regarded as a form of torture, people have died during the procedure, and it is used to break the strikers. Even the Israeli Medical Association is against it. The bill did not pass, but today (June 30, 2014) the Knesset is voting on another bill that would permit doctors to do forced feeding without risk of punishment. Netanyahu has framed this as an issue of internal security: forced feeding is for the safety of Israeli citizens, because if a prisoner dies, “it will threaten security of Israelis in Judea and Samaria.” And then they play with words, artificial (not forced) feeding, moderate restraints (rather than the full shackling that is used), etc etc. The doctor has to recommend forced feeding “for the benefit of the prisoner,” this is signed off by a district court which gives the whole process the air of legality.
In the last month there have been other worrisome bills: one is to deny amnesty to prisoners who are released in exchanges, (Israel has released 70 prisoners arrested before Oslo in 1993); this perpetuates the definition of prisoner as automatic permanent terrorist. Pro-prisoner demonstrations were suppressed by the Palestinian Authority and the IDF, especially in Hebron where there was a demonstration by mothers of prisoners. Since June 12th five Palestinians have been killed and in addition to the 400 arrested, there have been 800 house incursions, lots of injuries and road closures. The Palestinian Authority has security coordination with Israel which is facilitating the siege on Hebron. Two nights ago in Ramallah, Palestinian Authority officers shot demonstrators storming police station. Currently this is the largest military operation since the Second Intifada, and for me, the strangeness is that it is largely happening under cover of darkness. By the time the sun comes up, most of the Israeli forces are out of the villages and homes and universities and everything looks deceptively normal unless you live in Hebron. The world community may not even notice, there are no tanks and no phosphorus bombs to catch anyone’s attention.
.
Randa talks about a host of other human rights concerns and the picture is grim. Children born to mothers in prison are kept in prison for two years with no extra space, food, or medical care, they are basically born with a prison record. Pregnant Palestinian women who are arrested get no prenatal care, no special food, etc, and give birth shackled. The prisons are dirty, prisoners have to purchase their needs from a canteen, there are often no family visits; it is an utterly dehumanizing climate. There is a case now that won’t allow a granddaughter to visit her grandfather, the courts say they have to prove their relation to each other or mothers are asked to prove their relationship to their children in prison.
When people are released, there is some support from the ministry of prisoner affairs, dedicated to legal aid, financial and medical assistance, but not much resources available for rehabilitation. The prison experience is so normalized within the community, there is lots of community support, but not much treatment for PTSD, (posttraumatic stress disorder) which just about everyone has. Interestingly, there is no housing or employment discrimination, the community views these as largely political arrests.
If arrested, there is a higher rate of re-arrest, the IDF targets former prisoners which basically destroys their lives. There are students who have been attending Birzeit University for eight years because they are repeatedly arrested around exam times and their education just drags on, or students arrested during the final year of high school so they cannot take the exams critical for university admission.
So why do people get arrested? For starters, there are 1,600 military orders that govern life under occupation. (Yes Virginia, there is an occupation, the place is not administered or liberated or whatever euphemism you may hear.) Organizations like student unions and all political organizations are illegal including technically the Palestinian Authority. This gives the IDF very broad discretionary powers. People get arrested because they are activists like those in Stop the Wall or because they do volunteer work to empower youth. Basically the charges are used to suppress Palestinian resistance in all forms. Randa notes that there have been three arrests of Addameer colleagues in the past year, charged with giving legal advice to youth about interrogation, which is after all part of their job description. “We are all in jeopardy… Going to a demonstration today we could be charged, this is the climate.”
Randa was studying at a US university and was involved in their Students for Justice in Palestine. She moved to Jordan to learn Arabic, came for a conference, Adameer had an opening and she took the job. While her family in still in California (and it is often hard for Palestinians to get a visa), she believes that it is important for Palestinians to come back and to do the challenging work of ending the occupation and its immense hardships.
You can read the Addameer website for further depressing details about the realities of military occupation. Think about how Palestinians are portrayed in our media (the boy with the sling shot, why exactly is he throwing that rock and why not portray university students arrested during exams? Doesn’t fit the stereotype?) Think about the meaning of resistance and the unchecked power of an occupying force. And the next time you pay your taxes, think about our US military industrial complex that provides the weaponry and machinery that makes this military power possible.
Water and salt
We meet with Randa Wahbe, the dedicated and articulate advocacy officer at Adameer, on the 61st day of the longest hunger strike by administrative detainees in Israeli jails. The strike is a political strike, ie. not for improved prison conditions, but for ending the Israeli policy of detaining people without charges or adequate access to a lawyer, sometimes for years, six years or more is not uncommon. At the time of our meeting, there had been no negotiations, but as I write this a week later, the strike has ended, some secret deal has been met, and there is mostly speculation: What was decided? Did the hunger strikers feel that this was not the right time when the public is obsessed by the three missing settlers and the World Cup and Ramadan? Who knows?
Whatever the outcome, prisoner issues are central to Palestinian liberation; 800,000 Palestinians have been arrested since 1967, 40% of the male population. Thousands of Palestinians are held in this limbo land of administrative detention. The striking prisoners are put into isolation, cannot go outside or have family visits, (they often do not see their families because of permitting and travel issues anyway). The prisoners receive monetary fines taken from their canteen account. Sometimes they have limited to or no access to lawyers or they are transferred around to different prison hospitals so the lawyer cannot locate them. At the time of our visit, there were at least 130 hunger strikers, the movement was growing and may have reached 300. The hunger strikers are beaten, denied medical care, and are only treated by prison doctors, (who clearly have lost their ethical compass), who are known to be abusive, dangle food or force feeding tubes in their faces. Prisoners are shackled 12 hours per day and as you can imagine, the conditions are pretty horrific.
The prisoners were drinking water and salt for 14 days; Randa reports the Israeli authorities then denied them salt, some may be taking some unknown supplements that “barely keep them alive. As an organization we are very concerned because of the lack of negotiation between the Israeli prison service and the prisoners, will there by martyrs?” A lot of administrative detainees are older than 60 and not striking, but other prisoners are striking in sympathy. There appears to be a trend to arrest Palestinians shortly after their 18th birthday as they can be tried as adults. The youngest hunger striker was arrested five days after his 18th birthday, “He is still a child, but he has been in prison for two years.” There have been over 400 arrests since the 12th of June, 77 are in administrative detention.
And then there is the heart breaking issue of child arrests. Although Israel technically changed its policy and has child courts, Randa reports that children are treated like adults. They are often arrested between midnight and five am, families don’t know where they are going. They are interrogated without a lawyer, not allowed to see their families. The military court judge is the same as for adults and Randa explains that the children are routinely tortured by their interrogators. This is mostly psychological torture, threats that they will be killed, sexually abused; they are put into solitary confinement, have florescent lights on 24 hours per day, placed in stress positions, and beaten. The forced confessions are then used to arrest adults in the community. So imagine you are an 18 year old boy, you have seen your father and grandfather humiliated at checkpoints, you have watched settlers steal your land and water, and very possibly, you have thrown stones at a passing Israeli jeep that has arrived to make your life a living hell. And then you crack in prison and are responsible for your own brother’s arrest. Many children never return to school, develop bed wetting and behavioral problems. With these brutal policies we are witnessing the slow destruction of Palestinian society and the creation of environments that will create more angry, hopeless, militant men seeking revenge. In Silwan, there is a 14 year old who has been arrested six times, mostly for throwing stones according to IDF soldiers or settlers. So why are we doing this Mr. Netanyahu? Palestinian parents pay fines to release their children and last year, Palestinians paid 13 million shekels into the Israeli military court, in a bizarre sense, financing their own imprisonment. And did I mention that prisons are increasingly privatized, sort of like the US?
In general, Randa explains, administrative detention under universal law is allowed if an individual is threatening the security of state. This should be used rarely. But in Israel, the military claims the Shin Bet has “secret files” that show that this person is a threat to the state. “This is used arbitrarily, there are obviously no files. Let’s look at who gets arrested: prominent activists, academics, regular folks. Recently a political scientist was released, after 2 ½ years without any charges. He has no idea why he was arrested this time, [suffice it to say that] he is an academic who writes about resistance, attends demonstrations, and has been in and out of prison for years. One of the hunger strikers is a prominent community member, part of an agricultural union who promotes farmers rights; he has been in and out of administrative detention for years and was rearrested in February.”
At the time of our visit, a bill to allow forced feeding was to be voted on in the Israeli Knesset, although forced feeding is regarded as a form of torture, people have died during the procedure, and it is used to break the strikers. Even the Israeli Medical Association is against it. The bill did not pass, but today (June 30, 2014) the Knesset is voting on another bill that would permit doctors to do forced feeding without risk of punishment. Netanyahu has framed this as an issue of internal security: forced feeding is for the safety of Israeli citizens, because if a prisoner dies, “it will threaten security of Israelis in Judea and Samaria.” And then they play with words, artificial (not forced) feeding, moderate restraints (rather than the full shackling that is used), etc etc. The doctor has to recommend forced feeding “for the benefit of the prisoner,” this is signed off by a district court which gives the whole process the air of legality.
In the last month there have been other worrisome bills: one is to deny amnesty to prisoners who are released in exchanges, (Israel has released 70 prisoners arrested before Oslo in 1993); this perpetuates the definition of prisoner as automatic permanent terrorist. Pro-prisoner demonstrations were suppressed by the Palestinian Authority and the IDF, especially in Hebron where there was a demonstration by mothers of prisoners. Since June 12th five Palestinians have been killed and in addition to the 400 arrested, there have been 800 house incursions, lots of injuries and road closures. The Palestinian Authority has security coordination with Israel which is facilitating the siege on Hebron. Two nights ago in Ramallah, Palestinian Authority officers shot demonstrators storming police station. Currently this is the largest military operation since the Second Intifada, and for me, the strangeness is that it is largely happening under cover of darkness. By the time the sun comes up, most of the Israeli forces are out of the villages and homes and universities and everything looks deceptively normal unless you live in Hebron. The world community may not even notice, there are no tanks and no phosphorus bombs to catch anyone’s attention.
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Randa talks about a host of other human rights concerns and the picture is grim. Children born to mothers in prison are kept in prison for two years with no extra space, food, or medical care, they are basically born with a prison record. Pregnant Palestinian women who are arrested get no prenatal care, no special food, etc, and give birth shackled. The prisons are dirty, prisoners have to purchase their needs from a canteen, there are often no family visits; it is an utterly dehumanizing climate. There is a case now that won’t allow a granddaughter to visit her grandfather, the courts say they have to prove their relation to each other or mothers are asked to prove their relationship to their children in prison.
When people are released, there is some support from the ministry of prisoner affairs, dedicated to legal aid, financial and medical assistance, but not much resources available for rehabilitation. The prison experience is so normalized within the community, there is lots of community support, but not much treatment for PTSD, (posttraumatic stress disorder) which just about everyone has. Interestingly, there is no housing or employment discrimination, the community views these as largely political arrests.
If arrested, there is a higher rate of re-arrest, the IDF targets former prisoners which basically destroys their lives. There are students who have been attending Birzeit University for eight years because they are repeatedly arrested around exam times and their education just drags on, or students arrested during the final year of high school so they cannot take the exams critical for university admission.
So why do people get arrested? For starters, there are 1,600 military orders that govern life under occupation. (Yes Virginia, there is an occupation, the place is not administered or liberated or whatever euphemism you may hear.) Organizations like student unions and all political organizations are illegal including technically the Palestinian Authority. This gives the IDF very broad discretionary powers. People get arrested because they are activists like those in Stop the Wall or because they do volunteer work to empower youth. Basically the charges are used to suppress Palestinian resistance in all forms. Randa notes that there have been three arrests of Addameer colleagues in the past year, charged with giving legal advice to youth about interrogation, which is after all part of their job description. “We are all in jeopardy… Going to a demonstration today we could be charged, this is the climate.”
Randa was studying at a US university and was involved in their Students for Justice in Palestine. She moved to Jordan to learn Arabic, came for a conference, Adameer had an opening and she took the job. While her family in still in California (and it is often hard for Palestinians to get a visa), she believes that it is important for Palestinians to come back and to do the challenging work of ending the occupation and its immense hardships.
You can read the Addameer website for further depressing details about the realities of military occupation. Think about how Palestinians are portrayed in our media (the boy with the sling shot, why exactly is he throwing that rock and why not portray university students arrested during exams? Doesn’t fit the stereotype?) Think about the meaning of resistance and the unchecked power of an occupying force. And the next time you pay your taxes, think about our US military industrial complex that provides the weaponry and machinery that makes this military power possible.
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