Eyewitness Account from Ramallah
02 August 2002
Eyewitness Account from Ramallah
Partners for Peace received the following account from a friend in Ramallah in the occupied West Bank earlier in the week. The writer wishes to remain anonymous.
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This is the eighth consecutive day I have spent completely at home. The Israeli military curfew has been imposed since long ago. I even can’t remember how many days we have spent under curfew. In the last week the Israeli soldiers announced they were opening the curfew twice for a couple of hours for us to go buy food and check others still alive. Two family members went downtown. Yet, I didn’t. I’m afraid.
Many times in the past month the curfew has been set for specific hours. Yet during these hours soldiers start shouting. And people start running. In the West Bank city of Jenin three children were killed in such an incident.
I used to teach at Birzeit University, a few kilometers north of Ramallah. I can’t reach the university. It was closed for two continuous MONTHS. This is due to the complete closure. Only yesterday, three Israeli military vehicles entered the university campus for no direct reason. The university administration sees this incident as a serious indication that the soldiers might enter the university and DAMAGE it as they did in almost ALL Palestinian Civil and Palestinian National Authority institutions.
While writing these lines, the sounds of tanks are very clear in my ears. They move even in small streets. Two days ago, while a tank was moving, it deliberately ran over our neighbor’s car. The car became like a piece of iron as straight as the level street!
Many trees and the street infrastructure are already damaged. All the people of Ramallah would tell you that Ramallah is NO LONGER the city they used to know. Its main views have been damaged. We’ll need at least 10 years to re-build the material things that have been damaged. Nobody at this time speaks about the psychological elements that have been greatly affected. I, myself, think I’ll never get rid of the fear I lived through and am living with today.
Do you know that for almost a year now, I haven’t slept in my bedroom? Nobody in my immediate family does. Our rooms are on the east side, their windows are opposite to the tanks. When dark comes, we go to the bedrooms, and bring our sheets and pillows back to the sitting room where we sleep. In fact, this is not only our situation. Most families around us haven’t slept in their bedrooms for months. Many nights we spent without being able to sleep. Only three days ago, when we were about to try to sleep (21:00) the sounds of shooting and the light bombs came into the sky. The sound lasted more than five hours. By midnight none of us wanted to know why or what is happening. We only wanted to sleep peacefully.
What an ironic word “Peace”! It’s the dream word that Palestinians see as a distant world to reach.
Electricity, water, and food have become our problem. These are all part of the collective punishment that we, though we didn’t commit any crime, are under. I feel humiliated and depressed every moment I think of the situation we have reached. Since September 2000 the situation has been difficult. Yet, after March of this year the situation has deteriorated to a level that is unbelievable.
Telephone is the only way to communicate though it does not always work well. I haven’t seen my grandmother since July of last year. She lives in Nablus, once just 40 minutes by car from our home. Nowadays, the trip is full of danger that makes it impossible. We call her every day. The curfew in Nablus is the same. She’s always worried about my grandfather. He has a kidney sickness and needs to go to the hospital every three days. Yet, sometimes he can’t reach the hospital (five minutes away) for more than 14 days!
A family member has a son studying in an Egyptian university. She wanted to meet him in Amman. Her trip to Amman (less than two hours by car) took six days! Her route to the Jordanian border took two days via car. She had to walk some of the way and slept in other people’s houses until the closure was loosened. She stayed at the border for another four days until she got a number allowing her to pass. She reached Amman, exhausted and full of anger that she’ll remember forever.
In Palestine, none of the above stories is unique. All, without one exception, are daily simple stories. This is the tragedy. All Palestinians, in all social classes and all villages, cities, and refugee camps in the West Bank will tell you if asked, “All these are DAILY events.”
Palestinians don’t talk about these problems any more — the killing of a family’s son, the taking of their father to jail, their daughter dying from illness. They do not speak any more of a mother of six who ran out of money. These are the problems that are not unique but that nevertheless occupy the attention of communities.
Finally, I would like to add that I once was a peace activist and believed Palestinians and Israelis could live in peace. I’m too discouraged to say that now although I still believe peace is the only solution. Now, however, I see peace as a dream much more than a possible reality.
