street scenes, southern Gaza

scenes from everyday life in Khan Younis, southern Gaza.

fallen journalists

*Fadel Shana’a, killed in April 2008 by invading Israeli tanks’ shelling (photo source unknown)

“Journalists engaged in dangerous professional missions in areas of armed conflict shall be considered as civilians … They shall be protected as such under the Conventions and this protocol, provided that they take no action adversely affecting their status as civilians…”

-Article 79 – Protocol Additional to the Geneva Conventions of 12 August 1949 (Protocol 1)

Fadel Shana’a is among the most prominent of Palestinian journalists and media workers recently killed by Israeli soldiers. The 23 year old was targeted by an invading Israeli tank which, after observing Shana’a filming for a number of minutes, unleashed a flechette bomb, a shell filled with up to 8,000 miniature darts designed to shred and inflict the greatest harm possible.

On World Press Freedom Day around the world journalists are recognized and honoured for their work in danger zones or exposing covered-up malfeasances. When it comes to Palestine, the honouring extends to martyred and injured journalists, of which there are many.

Bassem Abu Rahme, killed in Bil’in protest against the Wall, rest peacefully

Bassem Abu Rahme, white t-shirt, photo Active Stills

I mourn the death of Bassem Abu Rahme, the 18th to be murdered, along with scores injured, while protesting  against Israel’s illegal annexation Wall in the occupied West Bank.  The death and injury toll at the hands of the Israeli occupation forces includes minors, countless local residents, journalists, and many Israelis and internationals.  The oft- militarily-besieged village of Bil’in is one of countless villages in the path of the annexation wall Israel has constructed for so-called ’security’ reasons, stealing Palestinian lands, and lives, in the process.

warmth and support

*newly-bought mattresses, blankets and pillows to replace those destroyed by Israel’s attacks on Gaza.

I met Ramadan and Sabrine Shamali at a Sheyjayee market a couple of days ago. They were going to buy new blankets, mattresses, and other essentials, including clothing, to replace what was lost when their house was attacked by the invading Israeli army during Israel’s war on Gaza.  They were using money sent from those outside of Gaza in solidarity with Palestinians.

sharka street poverty

“This was empty yesterday before you came,” Fathiya said, pointing to the refrigerator now stocked with left-overs from a meal. “We didn’t know how we were going to buy food.”

The 100 shekels ($25 roughly) I’d passed on to her husband, Saud, the day before had gone a long way, filling the fridge with fresh vegetables and even fish, what would be a luxury for the family. It wasn’t my money, and I’d told him as much. “This is from people outside of Palestine who want to support you, who know how Israel has crushed your economy and means of existence,” I’d said. [I managed this in broken Arabic!]

dancing in the lentils

*calm farming for a change!

A thankfully relatively calm day of farming on Tuesday in the border region near southeastern Khoza’a village, east of Khan Younis.  The last time we’d been in Khoza’a, the Israeli soldiers patrolling the border area had opened fire on us within minutes of our arrival, shooting closer than previous times, although it was obvious we were a mixture of elderly farmers and internationals, all unarmed. Hours later, Israeli soldiers shot a young woman, Wafa, from Khoza’a in the kneecap as she surveyed the land where her the ruins of her house –destroyed in Israel’s war on Gaza –lay.

With those memories in mind, we’d returned to Khoza’a warily, aware of the Israeli soldiers fondness for shooting at civilians, but more aware that the Palestinian farmers were determined to harvest their crops: lentils and squash.

It was too late for the squash, which were meant to be small and green but which had over-grown and over-ripened because farmers had been afraid to harvest them weeks earlier.

“Kuulo kharbaan,” one of the women said when I asked whether they could be saved: they’re all ruined.

poverty in the shadows

• Amar Battran, wife Nadah, and 2 of their 9 children.

I met Amar Battran (39) selling green, plastic I.D. card covers, the kind every Palestinian outside of occupied Jerusalem and Israel carries (where they carry blue I.D. covers). I had no need of one but listened as Amar spoke of his poverty.

I’d been at the bank, withdrawing donation money, and at the Western Union collecting other donated funds, all for cases I’d written about. Amar waited outside as I went between bank, w. union and the money changers (no shekels in the bank ATM). A woman, Alia, also loitered, hoping for some help.

I asked the teller in the western union office if he’d seen the man and women begging outside before. He told me ‘every day’. I asked if they were truly poor. He said ‘desperately’.

They Will Not Go Down: Celebrating Life and Land Day

*Shaddi (red crescent)’s father: defying threats of invading Israeli tanks, he stayed in his home during the heavy shelling in his southern Gaza Strip region (Fukhari).

Less than two months have passed since the end of Israel’s grisly war on Gaza. Not a house has been re-built (there is no cement; Israel continues to ban its entry into Gaza), thousands are displaced or sheltering in an overcrowded relative’s house or renting a scarcely-available apartment. The aid has stockpiled on the other side of crossings into Gaza, many trucks being sent back or expired. And the pain of loss, let alone of seeing family members -children, siblings, parents-burned by white phosphorous, being murdered or left to bleed to death is still unbearably fresh.

Yet Palestinians are trying to move on, again,

the Samouni tragedies live on

*Mohammed, shot dead along with his mother by Israeli soldiers.

Zeitoun, Eastern Gaza

The “kill Arabs” hate grafitti reported in the Israeli daily Ha’aretz and numerous other news sources, and found throughout the Gaza Strip’s bombarded and militarily-occupied regions, is still scribbled on the walls of Mousa al Samouni (19) and the ten other members of his family’s home in the Zeitoun district east of Gaza city. On nearby walls are “you can run but you can’t hide” and “1948-2009″, references to the Nakba* and what many refer to as the new Nakba: the 3 weeks of war on Gaza. Into the walls of the family’s home Israeli soldiers punched five different snipers holes, behind which they propped themselves on bags filled with sand dug out from underneath tiles in the house.