“A man in his sixties, with kind eyes and a ready smile, waits until I am comfortably situated before he approaches me, pulls up his shirt, and points to an area just to the left of his navel. ‘lammasini hon, sittnaa!’ he quietly requests, ‘Touch me here, Ma’am!’ His middle-aged daughters sit silently around me, their eyes focused on nothing in particular as I gingerly comply with their father’s request. Touching the damp flesh of his round white belly, I am shocked to feel the hard, spherical mass of a bullet trapped in his stomach muscles.” On the 21st anniversary of the Sabra and Shatila massacre, EI’s Laurie King-Irani reflects on the search for international justice on a journey from Beirut to Brussels. Read more about 21 Septembers Ago
Rula was in the last stages of labor. Daoud says the soldiers at the checkpoint wouldn’t let them through, so his wife hid behind a concrete block and gave birth on the ground. A few minutes later, the baby girl died. They wanted to call her Mira. All their children have names that begin with M, from Mohammed to Meida, their youngest daughter. They borrowed baby clothes from Rula’s sister - their financial situation after three years of unemployment made buying new clothes out of the question - and they packed a bag to be ready for the birth. Now they are beside themselves with grief. Rula doesn’t say a word and Daoud can’t keep the words from pouring out. Gideon Levy writes in Ha’aretz.Read more about Twilight Zone: Birth and death at the checkpoint
It is now 11:59 PM, half an hour after the suicide bombing at Hillel Cafe. Just the night before, my wife and I and two of our friends were sitting at the Cafe until around 11:40 PM. The place was packed. I can now hear the sirens of the ambulances racing through the streets of Jerusalem. I cannot get the images out of my head; images of severed arms, decapitated heads, people with nails and pieces or iron stuck in their bodies, broken tables, the cake and sandwich bar shattered into thousands of pieces. Yitzhak Frankenthal writes from Jerusalem Read more about The Hillel Cafe Bombing
Jamal Juma’ is a busy man. As coordinator of PENGON, the organization spearheading the campaign to stop the construction of the Israeli Wall rapidly surrounding the future Palestinian ‘state’, he is constantly scrambling to reach as many people as he can, independent journalists and heads of state alike. If Mahmoud Abbas and the United Nations have publicly condemned the wall, it’s in no small part due to PENGON’s meetings with them. Diplomacy aside, however, troubling facts continue to appear on the ground across the West Bank which do not bode well for peace. Darren Ell writes following a trip to the West Bank. Read more about The World's Largest Open Air Prison
Already, things have changed here. I hear that in Israel security is stepped up. It’s big news on the web and the TV — “Israel readies itself for another attack.” Maybe people in Israel feel the same way we do here. Last night in Rafah, an Apache flew over the border area all night, keeping me awake long after the five bombs shook our house. i could hear it clearly and was too scared to sleep, thinking that it could strike at any minute. Friyal couldn’t sleep either, and this is a family that sleeps no problem with all night shooting. In the few minutes I managed to sleep, I dreamt about Apache helicopters, that whole ‘sound-getting-integrated-into-your-dream’ thing. Read more about Fear of the sky
Every day the children of Jubara must wait for the soldiers to open the gate in the Apartheid Wall, then walk in a line past soldiers armed with machine guns, to go to school. September 1 is the first day of the new school year in Palestine. Like students all around the world, Palestinian children are excited about their first day back at school. They wake up early and put on their uniforms and backpacks with their new notebooks and pencils. But in the tiny hamlet of Jubara, the teachers and children never know if they will be able to reach their school or not. Cathy, Marlous and Kate write from the village. Read more about The Apartheid Wall and Jubara's schoolchildren
The shooting from the tower dominiates the night, louder than angry men, louder than demonstrators. Earlier tonight, an ambulance’s urgent wail, me holding my breath praying. Death is so close now you can smell it. Already it has come like a rain storm beginning in Hebron, like the time I watched rain come towards me from across a lake and ran toward the forest and my feet were not faster than the rain. Laura Gordon writes from Rafah. Read more about Fragments of Rafah
Toine van TeeffelenBethlehem, Palestine1 September 2003
Waiting happens everywhere in the world. Waiting in Palestine, however, is not just a routine and bothersome phenomenon that can better be neglected because there is nothing to do about it. It happens so frequently, and it is so testing and influential, that it often dominates people’s lives. Toine van Teeffelen writes from Bethlehem. Read more about The Waiting Game
I just had the hardest day of my life. Let me start off by telling you that yesterday i had to get into Nablus while it was under curfew. I was with three Palestinians. I had a hard time getting here and, once in Nablus, I had to walk up to a tank and another armored vehicle and negotiate with them to let us through and they didn’t let the one male go past so he walked around. We eventually got around. Read more about Terror in Nablus
