from Gaza

Amjad Ayman Yaghi The Electronic Intifada 9 December 2022

The Netherlands appears to discriminate against Palestinians based on where they live.

That is what I discovered when I made a visa application to the Dutch consulate in Istanbul (where I spent some time recently).

I had been invited to the Netherlands for a training course. Another Palestinian who lives in the occupied West Bank had an identical application approved.

But mine was rejected.

One of the course’s organizers informed me I was turned down because I am from Gaza. Many EU governments are worried, my contact informed me, that people from Gaza will apply for asylum if granted travel visas.

Why was I treated differently to someone with an address in the West Bank? Is it a crime to have grown up in Gaza?

And if people from Gaza wish to apply for asylum, why can’t we do so? The EU nominally accepts. that everyone has the right to seek protection from war and oppression.

I have been working as a journalist for 12 years now. An internet search should suffice to confirm that I write about human rights, particularly how the rights of Palestinians are violated.

I am not a threat to anybody. And yet my travel possibilities have been curtailed throughout my career.

The biggest hurdle has, of course, been the blockade which Israel has imposed on Gaza, with the assistance of Egypt.

For long periods, the Rafah crossing – which separates Gaza and Egypt – has been closed. Leaving and returning to Gaza has, for that reason, often been impossible.

Even when Rafah is open, the hurdles are huge.

The Netherlands is not the first country to stop me from going to a conference or training course.

In 2016, I was refused permission by the Jordanian authorities to attend an annual conference on investigative journalism.

On that occasion, too, only Palestinians from Gaza were blocked from traveling. Palestinians living in the West Bank were allowed to enter Jordan for the event.

My application was turned down because I did not receive the required “security” clearance.

Dangerous?

I was luckier – if that is the right word – in 2019. Then, I did indeed get “security” clearance and was able to attend that year’s conference on investigative journalism in Amman after taking a flight from Cairo.

I cannot explain why I was granted something in 2019 that had previously been denied to me. How come I was apparently considered dangerous in 2016 but not three years later?

The lack of travel opportunities has affected me in more personal ways, too.

With Gaza under siege, it was necessary to cancel a total of 14 plans I had made for visiting my mother, who lives in Egypt.

It was not until December 2019 that I was able to see her for the first time in two decades.

A number of countries now subject people from Gaza to “security” clearance.

Some Arab states, for example, will not recognize documents issued by the Hamas-led administration in Gaza. They insist on travel papers from the Palestinian Authority in the West Bank, which is involved in “security coordination” with the Israeli forces of occupation.

In March this year, I traveled to Khartoum so that I could train Sudanese journalists on producing digital content.

The organizers of that training course sought “security” clearance before I arrived in Sudan.

“Obstacle”

During my recent trip to Turkey, I met Majid Samaan, 30. He has a psychology degree from Al-Azhar University in Gaza and wishes to study further in Western Europe.

Samaan has unsuccessfully requested student visas from Germany and Belgium.

Two reasons were cited for turning down his applications.

The first reason was doubt about documents showing that an uncle guaranteed him financial support. The second reason was the possibility that Samaan would remain in the European Union after his studies had been completed.

“I didn’t intend to seek asylum,” Samaan said. “I just wanted to study. If you want to discover the world, then having a Palestinian passport is an obstacle.”

Abdulrahman al-Fadi, 21, applied from Gaza for a visa so that he could study fine arts in Spain.

After the Spanish authorities rejected his request, al-Fadi made some inquiries. He was told that the Spanish do not want to admit people from Gaza as they fear they will apply for asylum.

“I want to draw and paint,” said al-Fadi. “I don’t want to study in Gaza. I am a philosophical painter and don’t want to work under the stressful situation we have here.”

Shortly before the COVID-19 pandemic, Ibrahim Hassan went from Gaza to Qatar, so that he could avail himself of a university scholarship.

There, he met an Omani woman with whom he had been in contact over the internet.

The couple have subsequently become engaged. But Hassan, 30, has not been able to visit his fiancee in Muscat, the Omani capital, as the country’s authorities will not issue him with a visa.

“When my fiancee made inquiries, she was told that I was rejected because I am from Gaza,” Hassan said. “I met people from the West Bank in Qatar, who have been able to get tourist visas for Oman. I have a master’s degree in Arabic literature and I am working as a researcher for an Arab institute. How am I dangerous?”

Amjad Ayman Yaghi is a journalist based in Gaza.

Danger rises for Gaza’s fishers

Source: Electronic Intifada

Beirut al-Aqraa was two miles out at sea when his fishing boat started to sink. He immediately headed back toward the shore but a few hundred meters away from it, the vessel became completely submerged in water.

Along with two of his workers, Beirut swam to safety. Yet three of his brothers had to be rescued and were brought to hospital.

“Luckily, it was around 1 o’clock in the afternoon,” said Beirut. “And some other fishers saw us and rushed to help us.”

The accident had a serious effect on his brother Nayef.

“If I had been stuck at sea any longer, I would have died,” Nayef said. “I have vomited every day since then. And I have a fear of the sea. I will never sail again. I would prefer to stay jobless than to go out on Beirut’s boat once more.”

A number of Beirut’s boats had been damaged by Israel when it mounted a major attack on Gaza in May last year. Israel targeted Deir al-Balah port in central Gaza, where Beirut’s vessels were moored, during its attack.

One of the boats proved irreparable.

The Gaza authorities estimated that Beirut’s losses from the May offensive came to around $25,000. “But it’s more like $30,000,” he said.

The boat which sank on 24 December was named Amal, the Arabic word for “hope.” It was among those damaged by Israel’s shrapnel in May.

To fix the boat properly, Beirut needed approximately 3 kilograms of fiberglass. He could not afford fiberglass, so he used a sealant, which was cheaper.

He had been able to keep working as a fisher, using Amal, since the May attack. Yet when the boat started to fall apart on 24 December, it was clear that the repair job had not been adequate.

No compensation

Beirut recalled how he was nicknamed “the king of fishers” as “I used to have four boats.”

Before the May attack, he would earn up to $1,300 per month. Now he makes only around $300.

“And no one has paid any compensation for my loss,” he said.

It has been well documented that Israel often attacks Palestinian fishers directly. A total of 73 incidents in which Israel opened fire on Gaza fishers were recorded by human rights monitors between October and December.

Israel’s naval forces even fired on Gaza fishers twice on New Year’s Day.

Khader al-Saidi has been repeatedly fired on by Israel.

Following one such episode of state violence in 2017, Khader was arrested and detained for almost a year. He was accused of crossing the permitted fishing boundary off Gaza’s coastline – a boundary that is often arbitrary.

In February 2019, Khader was out fishing with his cousin Muhammad when they were attacked by the Israeli navy. The two men tried to escape but could not.

Israel’s navy fired an estimated 30 rubber-coated steel bullets at Khader, while his cousin managed to hunker down.

After being struck in both eyes, Khader fell over and lost consciousness.

“I woke up four days later in an Israeli hospital in Ashdod [a port city],” he said. “I heard someone speaking Hebrew and asked him ‘where am I?’ But he didn’t answer.”

A doctor, who spoke Arabic, then explained to Khader that he had lost sight in his right eye. His left eye would take about a week to recover, the doctor predicted.

Despite being in severe pain, Khader was shackled by hand and feet as soldiers brought him to the Erez military checkpoint, which separates Gaza and Israel.

He was escorted through the checkpoint and abandoned by the Israeli soldiers. A man came to assist him and brought him to the local police, who called an ambulance.

When Khader was examined by doctors in Gaza, they confirmed that he was now blind in both eyes.

Today, Khader seldom leaves his home. “I don’t have any desire to meet anyone,” he said.

“Israel turned me into a beggar”

He has applied for a disability allowance from the Palestinian Authority but has not received any. “I used to be a breadwinner for my extended family, nine people in total,” he said. “Now I depend on kind people to give me some money. Israel has turned me into a beggar.”

Opening fire is not the only way that Israel undermines the safety of Gaza’s fishers. The relentless siege on Gaza has caused living standards to decline generally and particularly among fishers.

Many fishers cannot foot the bill for maintenance work on their vessels. Israel’s import restrictions have also led to a shortage of spare parts.

The shortage means that when spare parts are available to buy, they are more expensive than they were previously.

According to one man who carries out repair work on Gaza’s boats, the price of a new engine for a medium-sized vessel is now more than $11,000 – almost twice what it was a decade ago.

The consequence of working in boats that are not seaworthy can prove fatal – as the story of Muhammad Musleh illustrates.

Muhammad, 40, drowned in September when the boat in which he was fishing capsized. Its engine had ceased to function.

His brother, Alaa, admitted that the boat was not in good condition. But the family had to keep using it for reasons of economic necessity.

“If we had had money to buy another engine, we wouldn’t have lost Muhammed,” Alaa said. “But we couldn’t afford a new one. And we still can’t.”

“I know it was wrong for us to go out to sea,” he said. “But we didn’t have another choice. I am a father of four, Fayez [another brother] is a father of three and Muhammad was also a father of four. Who else will feed our children?”

Ahmed Al-Sammak is a journalist based in Gaza.

Carissime/i,

ti inviamo un video del medico di Nefrologia responsabile dell’Unità di dialisi pediatrica dell’ospedale specialistico pediatrico Rantissi di Gaza, il dr. Moahmmed Al Aqar.

Speravamo di ospitarlo nell’Ospedale Pediatrico Santobono di Napoli, per un periodo di formazione e scambio di 3 mesi ed abbiamo raccolto i fondi per questo scopo. Ma non è riuscito ad attraversare il confine perché gli è stato negato il passaggio da parte degli egiziani, e non sono state fornite ragioni.

Sottratte le spese già fatte per questo progetto “abortito” (voli, visti, assicurazione, servizi telefonico e wifi, abbonamento bus, cioè quasi il 30% del fondo messo da parte) abbiamo i fondi residui da utilizzare e abbiamo deciso di spenderli per sostenere l’acquisto di forniture per il Dipartimento di Nefrologia, Unità di dialisi, dell’ospedale specialistico pediatrico Rantissi.

Visitando di persona il reparto, sappiamo che questo contributo sarà utile e molto gradito, e voi ascoltando il video capirete quante sono le esigenze non soddisfatte per l’unità di dialisi, a causa della scarsità di fondi nel Ministero della Salute.

Pertanto, vi chiediamo di aiutare attraverso di noi a dare sostegno a questa unità di dialisi e ad adottare uno dei 42 bambini che trascorrono 3-4 ore della loro vita ogni due giorni attaccati alla macchina per emodialisi.

In primo luogo e subito, speriamo di acquistare direttamente dalle aziende di Gaza le forniture mediche più urgenti da loro segnalate per la cifra residua dal training mancato, e se ci riusciamo con il vostro aiuto futuro fornire strumenti necessari.

Speriamo nel tempo di riuscire a fornire strumenti non medici ma che possano dare più conforto e rendere meglio usate per i bambini, ce ne sono 42 tra i 2 ei 15 anni, per esempio un aiuto a non perdere l’istruzione o per farli intrattenere mentre sono incatenati ai tubi, anche perché questo li aiuterebbe a non essere più fragili nel loro percorso scolastico e sociale.

Naturalmente, contiamo su di voi

Salute a tutti

Paola Manduca, Prof. Genetics

Dear all,

we send you a video by a Nephrologist, dr Mohammed Al Aqar, responsible for the Unit of pediatric dialysis in the specialistic pediatric hospital Rantissi in Gaza.

We hoped to host him in the Pediatric hospital Santobono in Naples for training and exchange for a period of 3 months. We collected funds sufficient for this aim. But he did not manage to cross the border due to the Egyptians denial of exit, and not reason off course were given.

Once we subtracted the expenses done already for this “aborted” project (flights, visa, insurance, phone and wifi services, bus pass, i.e. almost 30%) we have the residual funds to use and decided to spend them to support all the same the Department of Nephrology at Rantissi.

Visiting in person the department, I know this contribution would be very welcome; you will learn why from the video by dr. Mohammed, that tells us that many are the needs not fulfilled easily for the Dialysis unit, due to scarcity of funds in the Ministry of Health.

Thus, here we ask you to help through a donation to us in order to give your support to this unit and adopt one of the 42 children that spend 3-4 hours of their lives every second day attacked to the hemodialysis machine.

Immediately, we will buy directly from Gaza companies the most urgent medical supplies, as listed by the Department of Rantissi, and eventually we hope to buy some instruments.

Hopefully in time we hope to provide so that the children, there is 42 of them between 2 to 15 years of age, may have more comfort while in hospital, some help not miss education or manage to be engaged in a good activity while they are chained to the tubes for 3-4 hours. This may have value in helping them to be less fragile among the other children both in school and socially.

Off course, we count on you

Best to all

By Ahmed Dremly

‘Sami Haboush: The Shop was Our Last Hope’

A week before his blacksmith shop was bombed, Sami Haboush, 32, left the hospital against medical advice to bury his father, who died of a stroke in Israel while working.

Moreover, Sami couldn’t afford to stay in the hospital: he needed to work in his blacksmith shop, to make a living for his 16-member family.

He only stayed in the hospital for one week, though he would have needed to stay for more than a month to treat his gastrointestinal perforation and bacteremia.

“I had two choices: I could stay in the hospital and take the treatment for free or leave it and buy it myself,” Sami said. “But I was forced to choose a third option. I left the hospital and didn’t take the treatment because I had no money.”

“My mum suffers from a heart condition; her treatment costs 1000 Shekels ($280). If my brother and I work, we can afford it; if we don’t, we can’t. Her hair started falling out when stopped taking her treatment,” he explained .

The shop was the sole source of income for his family.

“In 2005, I stopped going to school to work with my father in our shop. He wanted me to complete my studies, but I refused, because he needed someone to help him,” Sami recounted.

“My father had a permit to work in Israel, so I stayed at the shop. We needed that income to pay our debts.”

When Sami’s father was in Israel, Sami worked alone in the workshop until he became ill and he was forced to close it during his stay at the hospital.

On August 5, Israel launched a deadly attack against the besieged Gaza Strip, killing 49 people, including 17 children and 3 women. At least 363 people were injured, among them 164 children and 59 women.

On the second day of the aggression, Sami worked as usual. Then, he closed the shop and went to repair something for a client. His cousin called him, urging him to go back home without returning to the shop.

“At the same time, I saw people gazing at the sky, as if they were waiting for something, in the direction of my shop,” Sami told The Palestine Chronicle.

When Sami asked a pedestrian what was going on, he was told that the Israeli army would bomb the Khalifa building, where his shop was.

“I ran to the shop, I wanted to die inside it. I don’t have another source of living. Many people had gathered 200 meters away from the building. When they saw me running toward the shop, they stopped me. Then, they took me home.”

When the bombing started, Sami and his mother were hugging each other and crying.

“The shop was our last hope. We never imagined the building would be bombed,” he said.

“30 minutes later, I went to my shop but it wasn’t there anymore. It had been completely destroyed. I couldn’t even find the door! My body started shivering and I cried loudly. Then, I fell to the ground. People tried to take me to the hospital, but I refused. I only wanted to stay in front of the rubble of my workshop.”

The following day, Sami went back to the shop and a partially destroyed hall fell on him and left him injured.

“My loss was $20,000. So far, no one has compensated me,” he said.

“Now, I borrow machines from my friends and work in the street, in front of my house. I used to have an assistant but I couldn’t pay him. I work for half the price; I would rather work alone from 7 am to 10 pm despite my physical suffering than bring in someone I can’t pay for.”

Sami was thinking of taking a $5,000 loan to rent and open a shop, but he didn’t because he had to repay $200 per month while he had no money.

“We were fine, yet they turned our life into pain. They stole the memories of 20 years. My heart was shattered; I lost hope.”

Mohammed El-Madhoon: ‘My Center was Destroyed Twice in Less than a Year’

Mohammed El-Madhoon, 32, a director of Centre for Training and Technological Development, lost his center in the Palestine Tower when Israel assassinated Taiseer al-Jabari, a senior commander in the Islamic Jihad movement, on December 6.

For Mohammed, this was the second time to lose his center as a result of an Israeli bombing. The first time was in the Kuhail building on May 18 during the 11-day-aggression on the Gaza Strip last year.

Mohammed was having a barbeque party with his family at the beach on Friday.

“Many people started calling me. I replied to my cousin, who told me that an Israeli assault started by bombing a commander of the Palestinian Islamic Jihad on the sixth floor of the Palestine Tower.” Mohammed told The Palestine Chronicle.

“My center was on the third floor. It cost me $12,000. I went to check the building. It was extremely damaged; most of the technology devices were broken. The place was no longer fit for training. I was shocked because it was the second time my center was destroyed in less than a year. It is like breaking your hand two times,” he said.

“So I suffered a financial crisis during the aggression because I had no money. It was my only source of income.”

Mohammed started working as a mentor in different training centers in Gaza in 2012

“I started my work for about 200 NIS per month. Then, I developed my skills and gave different courses. I was renting small halls for running courses. Then, I started gaining about 800 NIS per month,” Mohammed said.

Mohammed told The Palestine Chronicle that he got married in 2019. He rented a place with his wife’s help to set up his first center.

“I kept developing it for three years until the whole building was bombed in the 11-day aggression on Gaza in 2021,” he told us.

“I was planning with my colleagues to escape to the building if a war began. We couldn’t imagine they would bomb the building because it has only training and educational centers.”

Because of the loss of his only source of income, Mohammed suffered from depression after the war.

Mohammed had five employees in the first center, but he couldn’t bring them with him to the second center, because he was unable to pay their salaries.

“I only had one employee in the second center, and sometimes, I could not afford his $200 salary,” he said.

Mohammed said that he was never compensated for his loss. “Young men need support or they would develop a sense of failure. Somebody could commit suicide, while others would try to illegaly escape through seas or forests, which is another form of suicide.”

“My business was bombed and destroyed twice, and no one supported me! I have more than $5,000 in debt due to the bombing of my center two times. I don’t know how to pay my debt,” he confessed.

“Everyone has the right to security.”

The government in Gaza hasn’t published the last war cost yet, but the Ministry of Public Works declared that the damage resulting from the bombing of residential units amounts to 5 million dollars.

Source: The Palestine Chronicle

Why did I “swap” US for Gaza?

Ghada Al-Haddad The Electronic Intifada 19 September 2022

Why did I leave the US and come back to Gaza?

I have been thinking about that question for more than a year now.

In September 2021, I returned to Palestine, having lived in the US since June 2019.

The time I spent away proved that some cliches have a lot of truth about them. Compared to Palestine, the US is indeed a land of opportunity.

I was there on a Fulbright scholarship. Most of my fellow students at the Paul H. O’Neill School of Public and Environmental Affairs at Indiana University had no difficulty finding jobs.

They were recruited by Deloitte, Grant Thornton and other big firms.

It was much easier to live in the US than in Gaza.

I felt welcome. Perhaps that was because I surrounded myself with other Arabs, though I did make a number of American friends.

For the last few months of my stay, I lived in Virginia and commuted to Washington for an internship.

During that time, I often had a weird sensation. Was it really true that I could travel inside the US without having to get a special permit?

Such freedom is unknown in Gaza.

Tempted to remain

My time in the US was by no means stress-free. During it, I figured out that I am traumatized.

Each time a plane flew overhead, I had painful memories of coming under aerial bombardment. All the images of war and destruction would pop up in my mind.

As I – like everyone in Gaza – have witnessed real horror, I was puzzled by the things that preoccupied Americans.

Around the time of the 2020 presidential election, most of my American friends were stressed.

One professor canceled classes because of the strain he felt under at that time. I saw advertisements offering psychological services over issues relating to the election.

Why, I wondered, was an election making people anxious?

In Gaza, I have never even been able to exercise my right to vote in a major election.

The last election for president of the Palestinian Authority was held in 2005. And the last election to the Palestinian Legislative Council was in 2006.

I was too young then to take part in both of them.

The reason why I returned to Gaza is quite simple. My visa expired.

Yes, I was tempted to remain in the US without authorization. But I am someone who obeys rules.

Sowing hope

When I moved back to Gaza, I avoided speaking about my time in the US as much as possible. I do not want people in Gaza to feel envious or resentful.

On my return, I was struck by how – rather than welcoming me home – my friends in Gaza admonished me. They all told me that I should have stayed away.

It is not hard to see why. Overall, the unemployment rate here is approximately 44 percent, according to the latest official statistics.

At 72 percent, the rate is extremely high for people aged between 19 and 29 who hold an associate diploma or higher.

And when people manage to find work, their wages are frequently low.

One of my brothers is a nurse. He has two children and gets paid about $200 per month.

My brother struggles to feed his family.

As if the hardships caused by a complete Israeli blockade were not bad enough, we are subjected to full-scale attacks with dreadful regularity. One such attack took place in August this year.

Although my neighborhood was not directly targeted during the attack, there were explosions nearby.

We were frightened. When I held my young nephew after one blast, I could feel his heart pounding in his tiny body.

The attack once again underscored that nobody here is safe.

We have every reason to despair. Yet I refuse to do so.

The poet Mahmoud Darwish has written about how jobless and imprisoned Palestinians “sow hope.”

Gaza has been accurately described countless times as an open-air prison. All of us who live here are prisoners.

I could have escaped from this prison by remaining in the US. Instead, I opted to come back.

Despite all the suffering I have witnessed, I still yearn for a better tomorrow.

I remain optimistic that things will change if enough people around the world take action against Israel. It is our duty to sow hope.

Ghada Al-Haddad is a journalist based in Gaza.