There is Nothing Left of Johr al-Dik.

I have hesitated reading the anonymous soldier testimonies released by Breaking the Silence regarding the Israeli attack on Gaza last summer. I didn’t want to read the admissions that seemed all too obvious, all too predictable. As in other testimonies released by Breaking the Silence I expected stories of civilians being targeted, random wanton destruction, and lax protocols that made it all acceptable. Just following the news of last summers attack and the narratives provided by Gaza residents would draw you to the same conclusions. I didn’t need soldiers’ confessions to collaborate these facts.

I am currently in Jordan with a friend trying to return home to Sheja’iya, in Gaza. We have been here for 3 weeks waiting for word on the Rafah border crossing. Although we hear rumors about possible openings, to date the crossing is sealed. We have spent our days sitting with both Syrian and Palestinian refugees. I have spent too much time in coffee shops, drinking too much coffee and reading too much news.

Yesterday over coffee my friend Intimaa and I were debating which was the most beautiful spot in Gaza. The list always gets reduced to two areas, the farmland around Faraheen or Johr Al-Dik. Sitting smoking shisha I recalled the silence in the rolling fields of Johr Al-Dik, interrupted by the occasional barking dog or the chirping birds. I recalled the crops of eggplant, tomatoes, and cucumbers that struggled to thrive with a water source contaminated by salt. I recalled the wind rustling through the fruit trees, the slanting sun illuminating the olive trees at dawn.

And I remembered Nasser, his beautiful children, and the tragic story of his life. How in the spring of 2010 his wife, Naama was cut down in the front doorway by a flechette shell fired from an Israeli tank. It was late afternoon, the sun was shining, and the kids were playing nearby. I recalled how the ambulances were blocked from entering the dirt road to the home. How Naama bled to death there, in front of her children. We stood in front of the house as Nasser pointed out the watchtowers and the placement of the tank that fired the deadly shell. The Israelis claimed there were militants in the area, but offered no explanation as to why Naama was targeted and killed.

Nasser recalled how his house was shelled less than one year later, destroying the 2^nd floor, injuring 2 of his sleeping kids, forcing him and the children to retreat to the village. Once again, Israel claimed there were militants in the area. The home they were staying in was near the graveyard. One night Nasser found his children crying at their mother’s grave. He and his family returned to the land, living in tents under his trees until the funds were secured to rebuild his home. They hung a white flag from a pole near their home to alert the Israelis that they were there and they posed no threat. Nasser realized he or his children could be killed at any time.

Nasser and his kids are part of what I love about Johr Al-Dik, families surviving on their land and refusing to give up even in the face of unbearable Israeli aggression.  

Last evening, I relented and downloaded the soldier’s testimonies, “This Is How We Fought In Gaza”. Scanning the Table of Contents, Testimony 18, page 56, caught my attention. It is titled, “Check it out, there’s nothing at all left of Juhar al-Dik.”[1]

Check it out, there’s nothing at all left of Juhar al-Dik

Unit: Armored Corps •Rank: First Sergeant • Location: Deir al-Balah

Before we entered we saw orchards on a slope, a low fence beyond them and then Juhar al-Dik up on this little hill. You’ve got the barrier [between Israel and the Gaza Strip] and then Juhar al-Dik is on some high ground that overlooks it, and it’s very green. Of all the houses that were there, I think I saw maybe four or five still intact, or relatively intact. Most of it was D9s (armored bulldozers). They just took down all the orchards. Not a single tree left. Lots of houses. The D9s destroyed lots of houses.

Quotes from men in the company: “Listen man, it’s crazy what went on in there,” “Listen man, we really messed them up,” “Fuck, check it out, there’s nothing at all left of Juhar al-Dik, it’s nothing but desert now, that’s crazy.” The D9’s worked on it for three weeks. When they didn’t have a specific job like leading our way or opening up a specific route for us or some other mission, they just went and flattened things. I don’t know what their specific order was, but they were on a deliberate mission to leave the area razed, flattened.

I contacted a friend at PCHR for an update on Nasser and his family. He texted me this terse message, “Hi dear, Nasser and his family were forced to evacuate to an UNRWA shelter in Buriej camp. His house was destroyed completely. I'm in touch with him. They survived a very critical condition during their evacuation.” Once again, Nasser has been forced from his land. His home was leveled, his fields destroyed, the trees razed.

Consider this. In the context of rocket fire from Gaza and consider this in the context of the wider “War on Terror”. Nasser and his children are one family in Gaza. What exactly do you wish them to do? They are given limited options. They cannot leave Gaza. They have been living in a UN school since August. Many of the schools have been housing homeless families since the attack ended, the children cannot learn. UNICEF estimates nearly half of Gaza’s 900,000 children need “psycho-social first aid”. (Children comprise 50% of Gaza’s population, why aren’t Israel’s attacks framed as a war against children?) Unemployment is 45% or more. Farmlands, and therefore food sources, have been destroyed. Clean water and electricity are scarce. Building materials are banned. Israel’s crimes against civilians continue unchallenged, and they are already planning the next attack. My friend Intimaa managed to speak directly with Nasser. He didn’t have very much to say. Once again he is rebuilding. He said he simply doesn’t know what to do. Every time he builds a house, Israel destroys it. He is grateful that at least his children are all well, and for the time being, safe. In closing he said, “You know the situation. There is nothing left.”

What’s next for Nasser and his young family? What choices are expected of them? How should they protect themselves? On the international stage Israel continually talks of “peace” and “fighting terror”. Nasser and his children know better.

When I sat for tea with Nasser, back in 2011 (2 “wars” ago), his children still managed to laugh as they played in the garden. Nasser was a soft-spoken, gentle man, prone to chain-smoking cigarettes.  He worried about his kids. He was calm, deliberate, and determined. At the time, I didn’t see any signs of anger. He didn’t speak of retribution. In an earlier draft of this piece, I ended with a question, “But with all that has transpired, if hatred were to rear it’s ugly head dare you blame him?” But this is the mind of those who attack him, poisoned by hate. Perhaps it is better to point to the resilience of the human heart that continues to love and persevere in even the most desperate circumstances. There is something left in Johr al-Dik, something the Israelis fail to see, and something bombs will never eliminate. The spirit of the people remains. Nasser will persevere. He will rebuild his home, replant his fields, and tend to his children. He will hope for the day that Israel will be held accountable for it’s crimes, but he will not wait.

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[1] From “This Is How We Fought In Gaza” Soldiers’ testimonies and photographs from Operation “Protective Edge” (2014).

Published by Breaking the Silence

Gaza to Gaza Camp

The Never Ending Nakba

Immediately preceding the establishment of the State of Israel in 1948, the country that now demands others acknowledge it’s “right to exist” depopulated and destroyed over 400 Palestinian towns and villages, forcing the inhabitants to flee for their lives. The new state planted trees and established national parks over the ruins of dozens of villages where Israelis now spend quiet afternoons and enjoy picnics in the shade. The cries of the dead are drowned out by the laughter of children playing on the remains of ancient homes. The Arabic names of the destroyed villages have been erased. The Israeli state still clings to the myth of “A land without a people, for a people without a land,” and deny the Nakba took place, just as many Americans still deny an indigenous genocide in “our” country. Zochrot, an Israeli NGO, has identified and mapped every destroyed Palestinian village and town in order to reeducate the Israeli public. Their message is largely ignored.

The evidence that could not be erased- the millions of displaced people living across Israel, in what remains of Palestine, in camps in neighboring Arab countries and the wider Palestinian diaspora are marginalized in an attempt to silence them. Silenced, they are more easily forgotten.

Take Gaza for example. As Hamas and Fatah announced critical gains toward establishing a unity government in the summer of 2014, Israel escalated hostilities in Gaza. In response to Israeli violence, including drone strikes and targeted assassinations, rockets are fired from Gaza into Israel. Both sides escalate the violence. Suddenly, Gaza exists again- as a threat to the state. Hamas is condemned in the media. Politicians declare, “Israel has a right to defend itself!” Israel, with the backing of the United States, begins an assault that includes a sustained aerial bombardment as well as a ground invasion using tanks, howitzers, and thousands of troops against a largely unarmed, civilian population. From Gaza rockets continue to fly in unprecedented numbers.

7 civilians are killed in Israel.  1660 Palestinian civilians are killed. In Gaza, hospitals, mosques, schools, and office towers are destroyed. Entire neighborhoods are pulverized to rubble. Israel faces harsh criticism as pictures of carnage flood social media. After 50 days a ceasefire is brokered by Egypt. Israel makes concessions. The buffer zone will be reduced. Fisherman will be able to fish further into the sea (but still well within the limits granted to them during the Oslo process). The siege will be loosened, allowing people to travel. Materials, including concrete, will be permitted into Gaza to begin rebuilding. Nations around the world promise billions of dollars to help with the rebuilding effort. “Calm” is restored.

The ceasefire is broken by Israel in a matter of days. Farmers are shot in the buffer zone. Silence. Fishermen are attacked at sea. Silence. The Rafah border crossing with Egypt is sealed. The siege is worse than before the Israeli attack. Silence. Ten months later, building materials have still not entered Gaza. The billions of dollars promised for rebuilding doesn’t materialize, nothing is rebuilt. Silence. Thousands live in the rubble of their destroyed homes. Children freeze to death during the winter. Thousands more remain in the UN schools they fled to during the July attack. Silence.  Israeli soldiers publish testimonies that point to war crimes committed in the offensive. In America, the mainstream media largely ignore the testimonies. Silence. Gaza is forgotten.

The U.S. Congress praises Netanyahu. Obama congratulates him on forming a new cabinet, and no one comments on the newly appointed racists in his coalition government- one of which said killing mothers of martyrs is justified to prevent “more little snakes being raised there,” another calling Palestinians “sub-human”. Aid, in the billions of U.S. dollars continues to flow unabated to Israel.  

While rockets from Gaza garners some attention, other Palestinian refugees suffer in complete isolation.

Just a 5-kilometer drive from Jerash, the beautifully preserved remnants of a once wealthy Roman city, is Jerash Camp. Known locally as Gaza Camp, it was established in 1968 as a temporary camp to house 11,500 refugees fleeing Gaza during the 6-day war. Many of the refugees were refugees for a 2^nd time, having originally fled Beersheba during the Nakba in 1948. The refugees from Gaza were not granted Jordanian papers.

The situation facing those in Gaza Camp is the most difficult of the 2 million Palestinian refugees in Jordan today. Now home to an estimated 30,000 people, the camp sits on less than .75 sq. kilometers of land. The sewage system is an above ground channel system that cannot contain the volume of waste, which flows down the alleyways and streets, the only space where children can play. The UN itself estimates that 75% of the houses are uninhabitable- some still have the original cancer causing asbestos and corrugated tin sheeting provided for roofing in 1968. The refugees are denied support by the Jordanian government. Electricity and water are supplied to the camp at cost. Internet connections are not available. There are no pharmacies in the camp, and only one health clinic administered by UNRWA. The residents of Gaza Camp cannot access public health care. They cannot open bank accounts or purchase land.

Education is highly valued. University students from the camp finish in the top percentiles of their class, but higher education is costly, as students can’t access public education. Children sometimes go hungry so parents can keep them in school. Others go hungry because the average family lives on $2.00 a day. Those who finish their college education cannot pursue the occupations they trained for. Doctors, engineers, and lawyers are denied licenses and employment by the state.

While Benjamin Netanyahu calls out to Jews around the world to “come home” to Israel, the original inhabitants of the land are denied that right. In fact, their rights are not even part of the conversation. In order to claim it is the “only democracy in the Middle East,” while subverting the rights of its Palestinian citizens, Israel must maintain it’s Jewish majority. The Arab nations that house the Palestinian refugees are not much better.  They claim they deny citizenship so people’s refugee status remains intact. But that doesn’t explain the denial of basic human rights that would allow people to live with basic necessities, some comfort, and the hope of a better future.

The Nakba did not end in 1948. It is an ongoing process of marginalization and erasure. Although Israelis may deny their history, the people of Gaza Camp cling to their memories of Palestine like a lifeline. The children have absorbed the stories of their elders to their very core. If you ask them where they are from, they’ll tell you, “I am from Beersheba, I am Palestinian.”

Sunset over Occupied Territory

The Golan Heights, the Sea of Galilee, and Palestine viewed from Umm Qais, Jordan 05/05/2015.  All afternoon we walked through the ruins of Gadara, considering the silence, the ancient architecture and the follies of men. For centuries Gadara was contested. Men, women, and children died in various wars dating to the centuries before Christ. Today, the Greek-Roman columns crumble, weeds fill the Ottoman homes that came much later. Cows move slowly among the ruins, feeding on the grass and wildflowers that push up through the stone. The ancient city of Gadara, now called Umm Qais is quiet now. But nearby, men still kill each other over cities, towns, waterways and desert. They occupy and oppress, and they kill for beliefs, ideologies, and greed. The horror taking place in Syria is just a few kilometers to the east. The occupied territories of Palestine just to the west, over the next hillside.

In the silence of Umm Qais, the wind stirs the branches of the olive trees. Flowers bloom on the pomegranate trees. Children laugh. I stand with three Palestinian women, looking for their homeland. And the ghosts of all the men who fought and died on this land watch silently as the sun slowly sinks in the west.