Heartbreaking: Israel’s cruel policy of keeping families apart

27 February 2017

Women wait on Palestinian side of Erez Checkpoint to be allowed into Israel. Photo by Muhammad Sabah, B'Tselem, 28 Feb. 2017

It's very hard when you’re denied your most basic right: to meet your children whenever you want, to hug them. It's very hard to live with the yearning. I want to hug my daughter so much. A person can't know in advance how much she’ll miss and want to hug her children or grandchildren. We have been denied these experiences, and the right to see the people who are dearest to us.”
Excerpt from a testimony given by F.I., a resident of Um a -Sharayet in the Ramallah District, whose daughter lives in Gaza..

Since the 1990s, Israel has restricted the movement of Palestinians between the West Bank and the Gaza Strip. In 2000, the restrictions were tightened and the “split family” procedure was introduced to regulate family visits. This procedure was in force until Hamas seized power in 2007, following which Israel imposed a blockade on the Gaza Strip. Since then, Israel has permitted visits between the two areas by immediate family only, according to a special procedure that applies in cases that fall within its narrow definition of “humanitarian”: serious illness, a wedding, or mourning.

However, according to statistics compiled by the Department of Civilian Affairs in the Palestinian Authority, in 2016, Israel approved only some 25% of requests filed by Gaza residents to visit family in the West Bank that met “humanitarian criteria”:*

Requests denied	Requests with no reply	Requests approved	Requests submitted	Reason
780 (13.9%)	3,476 (61.7%)	1,375 (24.4%)	5,631	Visit immediate relative who is critically ill
153 (16.3%)	532 (56.7%)	253 (27%)	938	Attend wedding of immediate relative
68 (23.4%)	118 (40.6%)	105 (36%)	291	Mourning for immediate relative
1,001 (14.6%)	4,126 (60.14%)	1,733 (25.26%)	6,860	Total

*Does not include East Jerusalem

The statistics show that most requests receive no reply. This leaves the applicants in a state of uncertainty and denies them the possibility of appealing the decision.

According to the Palestinian District Coordination Office (DCO) in the West Bank, in 2016, residents of the West Bank submitted 2,449 requests to visit relatives in Gaza. Israel approved only some 25% (578) of these requests, too; 1,871 requests were either denied or have yet to receive a response.

According to the 1995 interim agreement between Israel and the Palestinians, “powers and responsibilities in the sphere of population registry and documentation in the West Bank and the Gaza Strip will be transferred from the military government and its Civil Administration to the Palestinian side”. The agreement also states that the Palestinian Authority must notify Israel “of every change in its population registry”. However, in 2000 Israel stopped updating changes of address from the Gaza Strip to the West Bank in its copy of the population registry. Since then, residents of Gaza who have moved to the West Bank have been unable to formally change their address.

Since Palestinians in Gaza and in the West Bank are essentially part of the same society, men and women have continued to marry partners from the other area. This has created a gap between Israel’s copy of the registry and reality. As Israel no longer enables Palestinian residents of Gaza who move to the West Bank to update their address, they are exposed to being arrested as “illegal aliens” and sent back to Gaza. Yet Israel readily changes the addresses of West Bank residents who move to Gaza, from which point on they lose the right to visit the West Bank, except under the extreme limitations of the special procedure.

Since I got married, I haven't seen my daughter from my first marriage, Yasmin, or any other relative. I haven’t attended family celebrations or sad events. Three of my brothers got married and I couldn't go to their weddings. Yasmin got engaged to a young man from Gaza and I couldn't go to the betrothal. I wanted very much to be with her and celebrate with her on that day. Three years ago, my sister Ni'mah died of cancer. I couldn't visit her the whole time she was ill, and I had no chance to say goodbye to her before she died.
Excerpt from a testimony given by Muna ‘Abd al-Rahim Ahmad Ghannam, 53, who was born in Gaza and lives in Hebron, in the West Bank.

Under the Oslo Accords, the West Bank and the Gaza Strip are considered a single entity and residents of both areas have the right to freedom of movement between them. The restrictions imposed by Israel since 2000 on the movement of Palestinians between these two areas violate the right to freedom of movement, which is enshrined in international humanitarian law, in human rights law, and in Israeli constitutional law.

The restrictions have split up families, subjecting couples in which one partner is from Gaza and the other from the West Bank or from Israel to a series of bureaucratic restraints that preclude a reasonably normal life. Tens of thousands of people have to cope with an impossible reality, in which the state interferes in the most intimate aspects of their lives through a series of procedures that set strict criteria that are virtually impossible to meet. The most basic aspects of life, that are usually taken for granted – starting a family, living with one’s partner and children, and staying in regular touch with relatives on both sides – have become unattainable.

This year marks a decade since Israel began its cruel blockade on the Gaza Strip, which it continues to maintain while shirking responsibility for the extreme implications for the lives of residents there. Israel must respect the right of all residents of Gaza and the West Bank to family life and to freedom of movement between the two areas, which comprise a single territorial unit. It must allow couples in which one member is from the West Bank and the other from Gaza to choose their place of residence and move freely between the areas. Moreover, all residents of the West Bank and Gaza have the right to maintain normal family ties, and Israel is not allowed to deny this right in a sweeping manner and to restrict it to such limited exceptions.

Testimonies of women from Gaza:

Wiam Maher Suliman a-Nimes, 31, married and a mother of three, related in a testimony she gave to B'Tselem field researcher Muhammad Sa'id on 14 Nov. 2016:

My family returned to Palestine in 1994, when the Palestinian Authority was established. At first we lived in Jericho, and in 1998 we moved to the Gaza Strip along with my father's family.
In 2007, I graduated from Al-Aqsa University in Gaza and got married here, in Gaza. My children were born here. My sister also got married in Gaza. In 2008, my parents and the rest of my brothers and sisters moved to Jenin, in the West Bank, after things got worse in Gaza and my brothers couldn’t find work. Israel let them move because they were still listed on their identity cards as residents of the West Bank.
In 2009, I managed to get a permit to visit my family for the first time. In 2010, my father got a permit to visit Gaza when his mother, my grandmother, passed away. But the permit was only for two days. I submit applications for travel permits all the time, but the Israeli side rejects them. Even when my mother was ill and I enclosed medical documents, they wouldn’t let me visit her. In 2013, I got a permit to attend the wedding of my sister Fatimah. I traveled with my sons and we stayed for a week. It was the first time that my sons met their grandparents and aunts and uncles.
I keep imagining how my life would be if I could meet my father and mother once a month or even once a year. This reality is very hard for me. It’s been three years since I last saw my parents face to face, in the 2013 visit. I have to make do with phone calls.
There have been so many festivities and events when my family couldn’t come and visit me as is customary. This separation saddens me very much. At the end of 2014, my brother Suliman got married, but the Israeli authorities didn’t allow me to go to his wedding. I have never met my nephews, who were born in Jenin.

Amani Kamal ‘Abd al-Majid Sharif, 30, married and a mother of five, a resident of Gaza, said in a testimony she gave to B'Tselem field researcher Khaled al-‘Azayzeh on 15 Nov. 2016:

I was born in the city of Gaza. In 2001, when I was sixteen, I applied with my parents for a permit to enter the West Bank. We received permits for three days. We went to the al-‘Arub refugee camp in the Hebron District, where I married ‘Adnan Hassan a-Sharif, a resident of the camp. After three days of celebration, my parents went back to Gaza and I remained alone with my husband.
Over the next four years I submitted three requests to enter Gaza to visit my family, but they were denied. During this time, my mother came to visit me three times, including twice on high holidays.
I missed many special family occasions because of the Israeli prohibition. In 2002, my brother Muhammad got married and I couldn’t go to the wedding. When my mother came for visits, she brought photos of my brothers with her.
In 2005, my husband and I submitted requests to visit Gaza. My husband received a permit within a week, but my request was denied. We had two daughters then: Suha, 13, and Sahar, 11. I decided to take them and go with my husband anyway, because I missed my brother, father and nephews very much. When we arrived at Erez Checkpoint, my husband and Suha were allowed into Gaza, but they kept Sahar and me at the checkpoint until 3:00 P.M. Then they let us through, without asking any questions. My husband waited for me outside the checkpoint. When we reached my parents’ home, the whole family was there waiting for me. I was so happy to see my brothers and father after four years of separation.
We stayed in Gaza for two months and then we all submitted requests to go home to the West Bank, but they were denied. We kept submitting requests every month or two, and they were repeatedly rejected. This went on for three years. During that whole time my husband did not work, because he couldn’t find work in Gaza due to the bad economic situation. My father supported us, and we were in a bad state emotionally.
In 2013, my husband received a permit to enter the West Bank, but my request and my daughters’ were rejected again. During the years we lived in Gaza, we had three more children: Sama, Haya, and Muhammad. When my husband received the entry permit, he tried to get permission to take our two eldest daughters but was denied. On 24 March 2013, my husband returned to the West Bank and I stayed in Gaza with the children, at my parents’ home. Since then I have submitted about twenty requests for permits and haven’t succeeded in getting a single one.
My husband and I have been separated against our will for four years, because of the permit issue. My husband is in one city and the children and I are in another. We’re in contact by mobile phone and online. The children cry and want to go to their father, and I’m emotionally drained because of the distance from my husband and my home.

Samirah 'Abd a-Dayem with her children. Photo by Muhammad Sabah, B'Tselem, 27 Feb. 2017

Samira ‘Izzat Ibrahim Abd a-Dayem, 32, married and a mother of three, a resident of Beit Hanun, gave her testimony to B'Tselem field researcher Muhammad Sabah on 8 Nov. 2016:

My family is from Tulkarm. In 2002 I met my husband, a resident of the Gaza Strip, when he was working in construction with my brothers in Tulkarm. We got married and I went to live with him in ‘Izbat Beit Hanoun in Gaza. My husband continued working in construction, but later he became ill and had a brain tumor. He was forced to stop working.
Two years after the wedding, in 2004, I submitted a request to enter the West Bank so I could visit my family in Tulkarm. I received a permit and visited them with my son Fadel, who was 1.5 years old. I was supposed to stay in the West Bank for a month and then return to Beit Hanoun. Because I have a West Bank identity card, I needed a permit to return to Gaza but all my requests were rejected. After a year and a half, I managed to return to Gaza via Jordan and Egypt. I had to go because my husband had undergone brain surgery. He was in a very bad condition and needed care.
I returned to Gaza and later submitted requests to enter the West Bank in order to visit the family, but I wasn’t given a permit even though my mother has cancer and is in very poor health. I continued to submit requests for permits, but the Israeli side denied every request. In 2013, my father passed away and I submitted a request for a permit for myself, my husband, our daughter Tasnim, who was then 7, and our sons, Hamdi and Fadel, who were 10 and 11, so we could join the family in mourning my father. We received permits for 11 days for me, for my husband, and for Tasnim, but not for the boys. We made the trip.
Since then, I’ve submitted permit requests to visit my family on several occasions. In 2015, my sister fell ill with cancer and I requested a permit to visit her, but did not receive one. My other sister had problems with her large intestine and uterus, but I wasn’t allowed to visit her, either. I really miss my mother and brothers and sisters. My mother is bedridden and I want to help take care of her, but since 2013 all my efforts to get a permit, even for one day, have been unsuccessful.

Testimonies of women from the West Bank:

F.I. , 66, married and a mother of six, a resident of Umm a-Sharayet, gave her testimony to B'Tselem field researcher Iyad Hadad on 11 Jan. 2017:

My family is originally from Lydda, and has lived in Rafah since 1945. In 1976, I married my cousin and moved with him to Ramallah. For a long time there was free passage between the West Bank and Gaza, and we stayed in touch with no difficulty. We visited our family in Gaza and joined in celebrations and holiday observances, and our relatives visited us regularly. Sometimes we would travel in the middle of the night and the trip took only an hour and a half.
The continuous contact encouraged us to marry off our daughter ‘Ula to a resident of Gaza. At that time, there was the “safe passage” procedure between the West Bank and Gaza. My daughter last visited us in 2000. Since then, she has not succeeded in getting a permit to visit, and we managed to visit her only twice: once eleven years ago and again two and a half years ago.
Since 2000, my husband and I have submitted about twelve requests to visit our daughter, but we only received permits twice. We submitted the last request on 10 Dec. 2016 for my husband, me, and our oldest daughter, Rozalin, who is 37. ‘Ula was supposed to undergo surgery and we wanted to be with her. We enclosed medical documents with the application, but after a week we received an unexplained rejection. We thought we would get a permit because it was a humanitarian issue, but apparently the people in charge don’t have a shred of humanity in them.
Denying me the right to hug my daughter, my grandchildren, and my brother and his children, causes me pain and heartbreak. In August 2016, I underwent open heart surgery. We submitted a request along with a medical report so my daughter could be with me during the surgery, but the Israelis refused to issue her a permit. I miss my daughter and Gaza all the time. We talk on the phone all the time and whenever we do, we cry.
My daughter has missed so many family events, both happy and sad. She couldn’t even attend her brothers’ weddings. My brother who lives in Gaza didn’t get a permit to attend them, either.
On holidays we can’t visit her and give her a holiday gift, so we transfer money to her through the bank. I so much want her to visit me on high holidays, like every mother does. But it is not possible.
Sometimes we look for people who are about to travel to Gaza in order to send her and the grandchildren clothes and gifts. She is happy to receive gifts from the family and from the city where she grew up. It warms her heart, but it happens only rarely. I have a bag full of gifts from her brothers and sisters that has been waiting a long time, but we haven’t found a way to get it to her.
It’s very hard when you’re denied your most basic right: to meet your children whenever you want, to hug them. It's very hard to live with the yearning. I want to hug my daughter so much. A person can't know in advance how much she’ll miss and want to hug her children or grandchildren. We have been denied these experiences, and the right to see the people who are dearest to us.
I don’t understand what religion and what laws allow such things. I don’t think that preventing us from meeting our relatives in Gaza stems from security considerations. It’s simply collective punishment.

Dalia Hamdi Ahmad Sikel, 34, married and a mother of seven, a resident of Hebron, gave her testimony to B'Tselem field researcher Musa Abu Hashhash on 9 Jan. 2017:

I grew up in the Gaza Strip. My parents and ten brothers and sisters live there, in Beit Lahiya. In 1998, I married my cousin Yamen Sikal and went to live with him in Hebron.
At first, there was no problem keeping in touch with the family and visiting them. I didn’t imagine that the situation would change so fast. But in 2000, everything changed and since then the connection with the family has become almost impossible. So many things have happened since then. I had seven children, my parents grew old, my brother Mahmud got married, my little sister got married, and they both have children. There were also family members who passed away in the meantime. There were wars and difficult events. I so much wanted to be with my family, and on happy occasions. But I discovered that it is completely impossible. Gaza is further away than ever, farther than any other place in the world.
Since I got married and moved to the West Bank, I have visited my family only once. That was ten years ago. I received a permit for three days, two of which were wasted on travel there and back.
On that visit I promised to visit again and stay longer, but it didn’t happen. My husband submitted several requests for me and for his mother, who is my aunt. But all the requests were rejected. I don’t know why.
Two years ago, my parents came to the West Bank because my mother needed treatment at al-Muqassed Hospital. They stayed with me for five days, and that made things a little easier.
The last time my husband submitted a request was two months ago, when my mother fell ill and was hospitalized. We included medical documents with the request, but it was rejected anyway.
I don't know if it was the right choice to marry a cousin who lives in the West Bank. Our lives here are better, but the distance from my family makes me feel like a stranger here all the time.

Muna ‘Abd al-Rahim Ahmad Ghannam, 53, married and a mother of two girls, resident of Hebron, gave her testimony to B'Tselem field researcher Manal al-Ja'bari on 9 Jan. 2017:

I'm originally from Beit Lahiya in the Gaza Strip. In 2002, I got married in Hebron. I came there with a visiting permit and haven’t been back to Gaza since. This is my second marriage. I have a 22-year-old daughter from my first marriage, Yasmin, and my husband and I have a daughter, Shahd.
Two years after the wedding, I tried to change my address from Gaza to Hebron in the hope that I would be able to travel to Gaza to visit my parents, my daughter Yasmin, and my brothers and sisters, and then go back home to Hebron. I submitted a request through the Palestinian Ministry of the Interior but it was not approved. My husband calls the ministry offices from time to time, but there’s nothing new.
Since I got married I haven’t seen my daughter from my first marriage, Yasmin, or any other relative. I haven’t attended family celebrations or sad events. Three of my brothers got married and I couldn’t go to their weddings. Yasmin got engaged to a young man from Gaza and I couldn't go to the betrothal. I wanted very much to be with her and celebrate with her on that day. Three years ago, my sister Ni’mah died of cancer. I couldn't visit her the whole time she was ill, and I had no chance to say goodbye before she died.
During the last war in 2014, I couldn't sleep at night because I was so worried about my relatives. But I am suffering from not succeeding in changing my address not only because I miss my family and long to see them again. This situation also affects my freedom of movement in Hebron and throughout the West Bank. I live in fear that I will be caught at some military checkpoint and they will discover that my address is in Gaza, and then they will expel me there. So I don’t travel to other cities in the West Bank and am very fearful of approaching checkpoints.
I try to compensate for the distance over the telephone and via the Internet, but because of the power outages in Gaza even these means are not always available. Lately I’ve been very worried about my mother, because she’s sick. She has a heart condition, and has been given a pacemaker. I try to call every day to see how she and my father are doing.
Over the many years since I got married, my father and mother have visited me only once. That was possible because they received a permit for medical treatment that my mother had to undergo at Saint Joseph Hospital in East Jerusalem.
My suffering is indescribable. Sometimes I think to myself that maybe the decision to marry someone from the West Bank was a mistake.

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21 March 2012

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The Gaza Strip

Married but apart: Women from Gaza with spouses from the West Bank forced to raise children alone

Israel’s apartheid regime prevents thousands of Palestinian families, in which one spouse is from the West Bank and the other is from the Gaza Strip, from living together as a family in the West Bank. These families are forced to make an impossible choice between living together in Gaza – at the cost of separating from family in the West Bank and enduring the harsh living conditions and financial hardships in Gaza – or living apart, with one spouse raising the children on their own. The ban is part of Israel’s separation policy, designed to isolate the Gaza Strip and implemented since the 1990s. Israeli-imposed restrictions were tightened when the second intifada began in September 2000, peaking in 2007, when Israel put the Gaza Strip under a blockade, imprisoning residents inside it. Since then, Israel has allowed residents to leave Gaza only in rare, exceptional cases it defines as “humanitarian,” treating these permits as a gesture of goodwill towards the recipients rather than their right. Israel has made it clear that, as a rule, marriage does not justify passage between the Gaza Strip and the West Bank, and the Israeli Supreme Court upheld this position, giving it a legal seal of approval. This state of affairs belies Israel’s claim that it has no responsibilities towards Gaza’s residents after having implemented the disengagement plan in 2005. Using its near complete control over all crossings – in both the West Bank and the Gaza Strip – and over the Palestinian population registry, Israel dictates Palestinian subjects’ daily lives and meddles in their most basic relationships: with spouses, parents and other relatives. The main victims of this Israeli policy are women from the Gaza Strip who married residents of the West Bank. They are left to raise their children alone in the harsh conditions of the Gaza Strip, with no hope or certainty regarding their future. B’Tselem collected testimonies from some women forced to live in this way. Yasmin ‘Abd al-Basset (35), a resident of Gaza City, lives with her four children in the Gaza Strip. Her husband lives in the West Bank. On 6 September 2022, she told B’Tselem field researcher Khaled al-’Azayzeh how Israel has repeatedly refused her applications for a permit to travel to the West Bank, so the family can live together: I came with my family from Saudi Arabia to the Gaza Strip in 1994. In 2009, I married my husband, Muhammad ‘Ali ‘Abd al-Basset ( 37), who is originally from ‘Azzun’ Atmah in Qalqiliyah District and has a West Bank ID card. Before the wedding he entered Gaza through Rafah Crossing, alone, without his relatives from the West Bank. We lived in Gaza until 2016, and during that time had three sons; ‘Abd al-Karim, who is now 12 years old, ‘Ali, now 10, and ‘Amru, now 8. At the time, my husband worked in bookstores and at a glass workshop. In March 2016, his father fell ill, so he applied for a permit to cross over to the West Bank for me and for our three sons. The applications were approved, but when we got to Erez Crossing with the children that month, we waited for four hours and were then informed that I was denied passage and wouldn’t be able to cross. They gave no explanation. In the end, my husband crossed the checkpoint with ‘Abd al-Karim and ‘Ali. I wouldn’t let him take ‘Amru, who was still nursing and stayed with me. It was awful being separated from my two sons. I collapsed. I was afraid I’d never see them again. I had hoped to leave Gaza with my husband and the boys, but then everything went black. ‘Amru and I went back to my family’s house. I couldn’t stop crying and didn’t eat for several days. I felt that we were a burden for the family. It was terribly crowded in the house. Three weeks after my husband left, ‘Ali got sick. He had a throat infection and was admitted to hospital in Qalqiliyah for ten days. I asked my husband to send me his medical reports and applied for a permit to travel to the West Bank so I could be near ‘Ali, but my application received no response. My husband filed several applications for me to go to the West Bank, but they were all rejected by Israel. After about two months, in May 2016, my husband returned to Gaza with ‘Abd al-Karim and ‘Ali. They came in through Erez Crossing, and we all lived together in an apartment we rented. We also bought furniture and appliances, and my husband went back to work at the glass workshop. Our son ‘Iz a-Din was born on 20 February 2021. In October 2021, my husband’s father took a turn for the worse and became fully paralyzed. This time, my husband applied for a permit for himself only, in order to visit him. He received the permit and went to the West Bank. After about a month, in November 2021, he renewed his ID card and applied for a change of address for me and for the children, but we’re still waiting for the request to be approved. Now my husband is in the West Bank, taking care of his father together with his brother, and I live in Gaza with our four sons. I’m suffering terribly from our family being torn apart. My son ‘Abd al-Karim is going through puberty, and it’s hard for me to deal with him alone. He feels like he’s a grown-up, doesn’t listen to me and complains that his father is not around. He has a problem with his left eardrum and needs regular check-ups, so I take him once a month for a check-up. I noticed he has facial tics and when I ask him why, he says it’s because he’s tired and also because he misses his dad. When ‘Amru talks to his father on the phone, he’s angry, and sometimes tells him that he hates him for leaving and abandoning us, but keeps asking when he’ll take us to the West Bank to be with him. When my husband returned to the West Bank at the time, ‘Iz a-Din was only eight months old. He basically doesn’t know his father. I’m supposed to take him to a-Shifaa Hospital next week for surgery on his testicles. It’s hard for me to take responsibility for everything on my own, while their father is supposed to be by my side and helping me raise our children. I do everything I can to provide for my children, even though their demands are increasing day by day. Our financial situation is tough. I work as a librarian and my husband sends us money from the West Bank every month, but it’s not enough. My father, who lives off aid from the Welfare Ministry, can’t help. I signed the boys up for a soccer club in the summer, but because I don’t have enough money, they’ll have to stop going. In July 2022, I heard that Israel approved applications for permits to visit family in the West Bank, so I submitted an application with the Civilian Affairs department in Gaza, but I haven’t received an answer yet. I stay on top of the news to see if I can apply for a change of address. I’m still hopeful it can happen. Muna al-Astal, a 36-year-old mother of four from Khan Yunis, spoke about the difficulty of raising children alone, as her husband is in the West Bank and Israel refuses to allow the family to join him, in a testimony she gave B’Tselem field researcher Khaled al-‘Azayzeh on 6 June 2022. My husband Riyad (47) and I got married in 2004 in Gaza. Riyad has a West Bank ID card and shortly after we got married, he went back to the West Bank and started working in Israel, and I stayed in the Gaza Strip. He managed to visit us in Gaza a handful of times, sometimes via Erez Crossing and sometimes via Rafah Crossing. There were two years in a row when he didn’t visit at all. The last time I saw him was a year ago. About 12 years ago, my husband submitted an application for me and for our four children, who were all born in Gaza, to register our address in Qalqiliyah. About 10 months ago, in October 2020, the request was approved. I cried for joy and prayed and thanked Allah. I sent my old ID card to my husband, so he could go to the Ministry of the Interior in Qalqiliyah and change the address, but they only changed the address of two of our four children, ‘Abd al-Jawad (15) and Dima (12). For Muhammad, who was three years old, and Maram, who turned 16 just months earlier, they did not change the address. All my joy was gone in an instant. After about eight months, they registered Muhammad on my ID card, but to this day they haven’t added Maram, even though her father and I and all her siblings are registered in Qalqiliyah. About seven months ago, I had to get Maram a new ID card with a Gaza address. Right after that, her father submitted another application for her to change her address to Qalqiliyah. Until her change of address is approved, the children and I will remain in Gaza, away from my husband. I can’t leave Maram alone in Gaza. Our youngest, Muhammad, is already four years old. He doesn’t know his father and calls my husband’s brother “Dad.” Maram has become very sensitive and cries every time she sees her friends spending time with their parents. Her daughter Maram (16) described the rift in her family in her testimony: Only my mother and my brothers received permission to change their address to Qalqiliyah, where my father has lived for a long time. The Israeli occupation refused to let me move there with them, and I’m the only one still registered in Gaza. My father lives a few kilometers from Gaza, and I can’t get to him just because there’s a checkpoint. I’m not a terrorist. I just want to live with all my family together. It’s my right to travel through all Palestinian cities without obstacles and reach him. I can’t remember the last time I woke up and hugged my father like other children. I also can’t remember the last month of Ramadan when Dad sat with around the table with us during the breakfast meal. I only see him on the phone screen, which is very hard for me because it’s not real. I wish I get the permit and we can all move in together. Hanan Abu Sa’ (34), a resident of Gaza, lived in the United Arab Emirates with her husband and three children for seven years. After her husband was laid off during the coronavirus pandemic, they had to return to the Occupeid Territories – he to Tulkarm and she to Gaza with the children. On 5 June 2022, she spoke with B’Tselem field researcher Khaled al-‘Azayzeh about the difficulty of raising the children without their father and Israel’s refusal to approve their applications for family reunification. I met my husband, Ayman (34), in the United Arab Emirates and we got married there. We lived there until 2019 with our three children, who were born there: Jud (9), Ahmad (7) and Ward (5). When the coronavirus pandemic broke out, problems started at my husband’s workplace. He was working as an electrical engineer and was eventually laid off. The children and I went back to live in the Gaza Strip, and my husband returned to Tulkarm, where he was born and where his family lives. That’s how our family was torn apart. He found a job there, and he in a rental with roommates to save money. He sends about half of his salary to us. The last time we met was in October 2019, when I went with the children to meet their father in Turkey. Ward, who was two years old at the time, squealed with joy when she saw her dad at the airport. We spent three months there together, and then I went back with the children to Gaza and my husband returned to Tulkarm. Traveling with the children was very difficult, especially through Rafah Crossing. Ahmad keeps recalling the experiences he had with his father and says the only thing he wants is his dad. One night, Ward fell and hit her head and I had to take her to hospital, so I left Jud and Ahmad, who were very small, alone at home. It’s very hard to cope with the kids without my husband, especially now that Jud has a thyroid infection. She has to get surgery to remove a tumor on her neck. I’m afraid of the responsibility of consenting to the surgery alone, without my husband, because the doctors say it’s an operation that can put her at risk. Our family is in pieces. The children suffer from their father’s absence, so I try to call him whenever there’s s a good internet connection. Sometimes my husband gets within a few kilometers of Gaza and calls to say he’s close by. It makes me cry, knowing he’s so close to us but we can’t see him. I know his family in Tulkarm is also giving him a hard time because we’re torn apart. I’m scared that in the end, we’ll have to get divorced and there will be no solution. Because I live alone, people are constantly checking on me. Because of the mentality in Gaza, it’s hard for me to be independent and sometimes I have to come home before it gets dark, even if I haven’t finished my errands. It’s been almost two years since my husband last filed for a change of address for me and the children, and we haven’t received an answer yet. Update: Hanan Abu Sa’ traveled with her children to Egypt hoping to reach Jordan and from there enter the West Bank. However, she reported that after an exhausting journey and difficulties at the crossing, the Jordanian authorities denied them entry and they had to turn back. Marwah Abu Hamadah is a 37-year-old mother of three. In 2019, she and her second husband, a resident of Bethlehem, got married in Cairo. She lived with him in the West Bank for about two years, without an official status and in constant fear of being deported along with the baby she had meanwhile. When her father fell ill, she returned to Gaza, but Israel rejected all her applications to return to the West Bank. For over a year, she and her infant daughter were separated from her husband. On 26 July 2022, before her application to return to the West Bank was approved, Abu Hamadah told B’Tselem field researcher Olfat al-Kurd about the hardship and uncertainty in her life: My husband, Muhammad a-Sha’er (52), a resident of Bethlehem, and I met at Cairo University in 2017, where we completed our Ph.D.s that same year. After two years, we got married in Egypt. We wanted to return to the West Bank, but it was difficult to get an entry permit because I’m registered as a resident of Gaza. Ultimately, we managed to get the permit, and I crossed Allenby Bridge on 28 August 2019. We arrived in Bethlehem, and on 9 October 2019 filed an application to change my address from Gaza to Bethlehem. The application still hasn’t been approved. We lived in Bethlehem for two years. I worked as a lecturer at Palestine Ahlia University. On 15 December 2020, I gave birth to our daughter, Misk, in Bethlehem. Because the address on my ID card is in Gaza, every time we drove to the university was hell. We took detours to avoid checkpoints, and were constantly afraid soldiers would arrest me or deport me back to Gaza without the baby. We were afraid the army would raid our house, as they sometimes do in our neighborhood. In May 2021, my father, Khalil Abu Hamadah (74), fell ill and I was afraid he would pass away before I could say goodbye to him. I decided to go to Gaza to visit him and took Misk with me. We entered Gaza without prior coordination, and got in easily because I’m registered as a resident there. I only found out later that Misk’s address is also listed in Jabalya, Gaza, and not in Bethlehem. My sons from my previous marriage, Muhammad (16) and Majd (13), live in Gaza. It had been nine years since I left Gaza to study in Cairo, and they stayed with their father, my ex-husband. When I lived in Bethlehem, I tried calling them almost every day, but he wouldn’t let me talk to them. I sometimes managed to communicate with them through my sister Najwa. Since I returned to Gaza, I’ve been seeing them twice a week. The condition Majd has had in his left ear from a young age has grown worse. His ossicles are eroding, and he has trouble hearing from his right ear. He needs surgery to remove part of the ossicle. Almost a year ago, on 31 August 2021, I heard on the news that Israel was going to approve changes of address. I applied to the Ministry of Civil Affairs in Gaza, and my husband applied at the same time to the DCO in Bethlehem. I also submitted a request to return to work at the university in Bethlehem, after the management contacted the DCO on 10 September 2021. On 7 October 2021, the DCO informed me that my request was denied as it did not meet the criteria. I filed another application on 10 October 2021 and got a security refusal on 24 October 2021. My name wasn’t on the list of 4,000 applications for changes of address by Gaza residents that Israel approved. I didn’t receive any response to my last application, from 28 October 2021. Later, on 21 June 2022, I filed to change Muhammad’s address from Gaza to Bethlehem, so he can move in with me as soon as my application to return is granted. Majd doesn’t have an ID card yet, so there’s no need to submit an application for him. I lost my job at the university and can’t find work in Gaza. My husband sends us money so I can provide for Misk, but our relationship is suffering and I feel that everything is falling apart, that my life is torn between Gaza and the West Bank. I live under terrible pressure and don’t know how much longer I can go on like this. People in Gaza look down on me because I’m far from my husband, and everyone keeps asking me why I live like this. It’s been over a year since Misk and I returned. She was five months old at the time,and since then, she’s only seen her father on the phone screen. Sometimes she grabs the phone from my hand and calls out to him: “Baba! Baba!”. My top priority now is to get Majd the best medical care and go back with Misk to my husband and to my work in Bethlehem. I ask all relevant parties to pressure Israel to help the women who are stuck in Gaza. I know of hundreds of similar cases. In what country does a woman live with her children in one place while her husband lives in another? Update: Marwah Abu Hamadah managed to book her son Majd an appointment to be treated in Bethlehem on 17 August 2022 and receive entry permits for him, her daughter Misk and herself.

13 November 2022

Residency & Family Separation

Under the guise of the permit system: Israel separates women living in Gaza from their families in the West Bank. The story of Ahlam and Ziad Salem

Ahlam Salem (41), a mother of five, was born and raised in the Gaza Strip. In 1997, she married Ziad, a resident of Ramallah, and lived in the West Bank with him. In 2006, while she was visiting her family in Gaza, Hamas took over the Gaza Strip, and Israel closed the crossings. The couple’s repeated attempts to have Ahlam move back to Ramallah have failed, and she has remained in ‘Izbat Beit Hanun in the Gaza Strip with her five children, away from her husband and their father. In her testimony, she recounted: I live in an apartment in the al-‘Awadah towers in ‘Izbat Beit Hanun with my five children: Ahmad (23), Muhammad (20), Maria (18), Mahmoud (14), and ‘Ata (2). I submitted many requests to return to Ramallah, so I could live with my husband in our home, but I never got the permit. Ziad doesn’t want to come back to the Gaza Strip because he would lose his job in the West Bank, and it’s very hard to find a job in the Gaza Strip. Besides, his family is in Ramallah, and according to tradition, the wife follows the husband. We submitted many requests, but Israel refused even to receive them. In the end, we stopped submitting. My children haven’t seen their father in years, and it’s a terrible situation. In 2010, Ziad managed to enter Gaza through Rafah Crossing and live with his family for a year, but he was not able to find work due to the severe economic situation created by Israel’s blockade. He was forced to return to the West Bank: My wife and children were ecstatic, and we felt like we’d received a gift from heaven. It’s hard to describe the feeling and explain what it was like to be together again with your loved ones after so long, and finally give them love. But the joy was incomplete because I didn’t have a job, and we had no way to make a living. After about two months, I decided to go back to the West Bank, but the crossings between Gaza and Egypt were closed. I felt like we were becoming a burden on my wife’s family, who were providing for us. I became bitter and regretted the day I returned to Gaza. It’s a terrible feeling when you can’t provide for your family, and you feel like you’re getting charity. In those days, my self-respect was the only thing I had left. After a year, when the crossings opened, I managed to return to Ramallah. I couldn't find work there, either and worked irregularly. My mother helped me financially as much as she could. We needed to support two families in Gaza, mine and my brother’s. In the end, I found a job in the air conditioning field. I recently became a department manager and earn a good salary. Although our financial situation has improved, our family has remained split. Our only contact is by phone and social media. We’re always looking for ways to live together again, or at least for my wife and kids to get permits to visit me. In 2018, Ahlam’s mother had to undergo surgery in Ramallah. Ahlam received a permit to accompany her and was able to see her husband for the first time in eight years. Ahlam described the reunion: After the treatment, my mother went back to Gaza, and I stayed in Ramallah for about a year. After eight years of being apart, we were finally together again. I was overjoyed and felt how much I had missed family life. I could imagine a stable, secure life with a lot of joy, with my husband and the kids. But the kids stayed in Gaza, and I missed them terribly. After a year, I returned to Gaza, and then the suffering and the longing for my husband in Ramallah started again. I made more applications for permits, but they were either unanswered or rejected. We only stay in touch by phone. The separation is hard for me, and even more so for the kids, who don't know what family life is like anymore. I have to take care of all their needs alone, help them deal with learning difficulties at school, and be both their mother and their father. It’s exhausting. I’m sick of living like this. I hope this situation will get solved, and we can return to Ramallah and live like a normal family. Our family has been torn apart for many years. We just want to live like any other family. Ziad described living together as a couple during this period and the unbearable difficulty of being separated again: We walked around, traveled, and visited family and friends. I tried to make it up to her as much as possible. We were constantly in touch with our sons and daughters. They were fine most of the time, but they missed us, and it was very hard on them. After a year in Ramallah, Ahlam went back to them. She had also become pregnant and wanted to be with her family after the birth. We went back to the previous situation: longing, separation, and talking on the phone. I’ve never met or held my youngest son, ‘Ata, who was born in Gaza after my wife returned. It’s hard to describe this life. It’s harder than a prisoner's life because he knows how many years he has left to live like that, while I have no idea how long this injustice will last. I don’t know how long I’ll be torn from my wife and kids. It torments me all day long. It’s especially hard for me to see the neighbors’ sons living with their parents, who spend time with them and play with them. Every time I see that, I think about my kids and being away from them and miss them so much. I also want to spend the holidays with them, take them to the market, buy them presents, spend time with them. The distance between us is only a 40 minute drive, but I haven’t been able to see them for many years. It’s a terrible injustice.

8 March 2021