After about an hour, we heard water flowing into the courtyard through the drainpipes. The yard filled with water. Then another bullet shattered the kitchen window. There’s a hill right in front of the window where soldiers stand, so I was sure they’d fired at the house from there. It was the third time this month that soldiers fired at our water tank. Every time, we lost a lot of water.
Ashraf Shteiwi, in a testimony he gave on 26 April 2020.
In recent weeks, soldiers have repeatedly shot holes in water tanks on the roofs of homes in Kafr Qadum. The shooting takes place during the weekly protests against the closure of the eastern exit from the village, which connects the village to the city of Nablus and passes through the expansion of the settlement of Kedumim. The residents have been holding the weekly protests since 2011.
As a result of Israel’s policy, Palestinians in the West Bank suffer severe water shortages and an irregular supply. To alleviate the hardship, residents place water tanks with volumes of 500 or 1,000 liters on their roofs to stock water during supply hours, for use during the many hours when there is no running water.
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Perforations sealed in the Shteiwi families' water tank. Photo: courtesy of the family.
B’Tselem’s investigation indicates that the shooting is deliberate and has resulted in residents losing hundreds of liters of water. They will now have to purchase expensive new tanks at about 500 NIS (~125 USD) per unit. Since the beginning of April, soldiers have damaged 24 water tanks on rooftops of homes in the village, some more than once. In some homes, water tanks were damaged three or four times over a month and a half.
The damage to the water tanks is sheer abuse and constitutes an illegal act of collective punishment. As residents now have to follow strict hygienic measures, including frequent handwashing, due to the outbreak of the coronavirus, this conduct is even graver. Nevertheless, the shootings have continued unabated for several weeks. This indicates that rather than the random initiative of a particular soldier, this conduct that is at least condoned by the commanders on the ground, in blatant disregard for residents’ lives and property.
The testimonies were given to B’Tselem field researcher Abdulkarim Sadi.
Home of ‘Assem and Nuha ‘Aqel
On Saturday, 25 April 2020, around 1:30 P.M., about an hour after the weekly demonstration began, soldiers opened fire at the water tanks on the roof of ‘Assem (42) and Nuha (43) ‘Aqel’s home, where the couple live with their five children and his brothers’ family. When the demonstration was over, ‘Assem went up to the roof and temporarily fixed a bullet hole in a water tank.
In a testimony he gave the next day, he recounted:
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‘Assem ‘Aqel. Photo courtesy of witness.
During the protest and the clashes with the soldiers, who were waiting for the protestors, I was at home with my wife and sons. Every now and then we heard live fire and the sound of “rubber” bullets and tear-gas canisters being shot. Meanwhile, I also heard shooting coming from the hill behind our house, about 200 meters away. After a few moments, I heard water flowing from the roof into the courtyard through the drainpipes. Since the soldiers were still up on the hill, I was scared to go up to the roof. I only closed the main water faucet, so the tanks wouldn’t fill up.
I waited for about an hour until the demonstration was over. When I was sure the soldiers were gone, I went up to the roof. I saw a hole in the plastic tank and temporarily fixed it by putting in a screw and adding adhesive material around it to seal the hole, but it’s still leaking. We lost about 450 liters of water. Last year, the Israeli military also shot at our water tank and we were forced to replace it.
Now, because of the coronavirus, we have to be especially careful about cleanliness. We have to shower, wash our clothes and wash our hands more often. It’s also the water we use for cooking and drinking. I don’t understand how the soldiers can be so heartless and damage water tanks like that. Water is the main source of life for every human being.
Because of the coronavirus, it’s now harder to travel between the villages. In any case, the stores selling plastic tanks in the neighboring villages are closed. The repair I made is only temporary. I’ll have to buy a new water tank and the cost of buying and assembling it is 500 shekels.
Home of the extended Shteiwi family
Since the beginning of April, soldiers have fired at water tanks of the extended Shteiwi family three times. The tanks are used by three apartments in a three-story building – the apartments of ‘Awni Shteiwi (38), his wife Ruwaa (31) and their four children; the apartment of his brother Mu’in (45), his wife Nahil (36) and their two children; and the apartment of ‘Awni’s mother Nazikah (67) and aunt ‘Ablah (65).
In a testimony ‘Awni Shteiwi gave on 3 May 2020, he recounted:
The first time the soldiers fired at our water tanks was Friday, 10 April 2020, at around 2:00 P.M. My mother’s water tank and ours were hit by two bullets each, and my brother Mu’ins’ water tank was hit by one bullet. The water leaked from the three tanks, through the drainpipes into the courtyard and then to the road by the house. I went out and closed the tanks’ faucets so the water would stop running. I waited until the protest was over and only then went up to the roof. I think the shooting came from the top of the hill called Jabal al-Aqra’ , which lies about 100 meters from our house. Usually, during the protests, about 10 or 15 soldiers stand there. I consulted my brother and we decided not to buy new water tanks but to fix the ones we have temporarily with screws and adhesive material. Three new water tanks would cost us 1,500 shekels (~ 430 USD).
Two weeks later, on Friday, 24 April 2020, soldiers fired at the water tanks again. The water flowed through the drainpipes into the courtyard. My sons went out and closed the main faucet. This time, my brother and I decided to make a temporary fix to keep the water from leaking. A week later, on Saturday, 2 May 2020, it happened again. This time, I closed the faucets before the demonstration began, to avoid losing any more water. Again, we sealed the holes with screws and adhesives.
The repairs we made are only temporary and won’t last long. These water tanks were hit three times. Some of them have five or six bullet holes. We’ll have to replace them, but there’s no point in doing it now. We’ll wait for the soldiers to stop shooting at them. In the houses next to us, many of the tanks were also hit by bullets fired by soldiers from the hill.
We use the water in the tanks on a daily basis – for drinking, cooking, laundry, bathing, and cleaning in general. Shooting at them is immoral and inhuman. Maybe the soldiers think it will make the weekly protests stop, but if that’s the case, they’re mistaken and delusional. Even if they keep this up, we’ll just fix what they damaged. We will never give up or surrender.
Home of Ashraf and Athnaa Shteiwi
The water tank on the rooftop of Ashraf Shteiwi, a 44-year-old police officer, his wife Athnaa and their children, has been punctured three times since the beginning of April.
In a testimony he gave on 26 April 2020, Shteiwi recounted:
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Ashraf Shteiwi. Photo courtesy of witness.
On Friday, 24 April 2020, the first day of Ramadan, I finished praying at the mosque and return home. Shortly after the demonstration began, clashes developed between the protestors and the soldiers, and we heard the noise of stun grenades and the shooting of live fire and “rubber” bullets.
About an hour later, we heard water flowing through the drainpipes. The courtyard filled with water. Then a bullet shattered the kitchen window. There’s a hill right in front of the window where soldiers stand , so I was sure they’d fired at the house from there.
My wife and little kids got scared. I put them in the living room to keep them out of the range of fire. I went outside and closed the main faucet, so we wouldn’t lose a lot of water. Since our house is right in front of the hill, I waited until the clashes were over. Only then, I went up to the roof to check the damage to the tank and tried to fix it with screws.
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The smashed window in the Shteiwi family home. Photo: courtesy of the family.
It was the third time this month that soldiers fired at our water tanks. Every time, we lost a lot of water and I put screws in the bullet holes. The next day, it happened for the fourth time. It was late afternoon. The soldiers on top of the hill fired two bullets at the water tank and it drained out completely.
Firing at the water tanks is collective punishment and destruction of our property by the Israeli soldiers because of the weekly demonstrations. I cannot pay 500 shekels every time they shoot at a water tank. So, every time they start shooting, I close the main faucet and temporarily fix the tank with screws and glue.
During the days of fighting in the Gaza Strip, residents of the villages of Bil'in and Kafr Ni'ma held several demonstrations in protest of the war in Gaza, the violence at the al-Aqsa Mosque, and the planned evictions in the East Jerusalem neighborhood of Sheikh Jarrah. In the first two demonstrations, on 10 May 2021 and 15 May 2021, soldiers standing on the other side of the Separation Barrier west of the village fired live ammunition at the protesters as soon as they reached the barrier and dispersed the demonstration from the very beginning. In the protest held on 15 May 2021, soldiers also used rubber-coated metal bullets and tear gas canisters, injuring a 14-year-old boy in the leg with live fire. On Tuesday, 18 May 2021, a third demonstration took place. At around 4:00 P.M., about half an hour before the convoy left the village center, a group of about 15 to 20 villagers, mostly children and teens, came to an area by the Separation Barrier. Some of them brought tires to burn during the protest, while others threw stones with a slingshot at two soldiers standing on a hill on the other side of the barrier, about 100 to 150 meters away from them. One of the soldiers fired a tear gas canister at the youths and fired in the air. Several officers stood about 150 meters north of the two soldiers, near a military jeep. Furthermore, in front of the area where the protesters were standing, about 20 to 30 meters away from the Separation Barrier, stood a tent where two soldiers were hiding. At around 5:00 P.M., when the first protesters from the village center arrived in the area, the two soldiers suddenly emerged from the tent. They immediately opened fire at a group of four protesters who were about 40 meters away from them. Some of the protesters dropped to the ground, and others hid behind trees. A few seconds later, the protesters got up to throw stones at the soldiers who came out of the tent, and then one soldier fired at them, hitting Islam Dar Nasser (16), who was masked, in the back of the head. Several protesters tried to evacuate Dar Nasser, but the soldier continued firing at them. He was evacuated only after a few minutes to an ambulance standing a few hundred meters away. Dar Nasser was rushed to hospital in Ramallah, where doctors performed CPR on him, transferred him to an operating room, and pronounced him dead about an hour and a half later. The soldiers the military had placed in the ambush used live fire even though the protesters posed no danger. They initially fired at residents who were throwing stones at other soldiers from a great distance without endangering them, and, after being exposed, fired at 16-year-old Islam Dar Nasser, who was throwing stones from about 40 meters away, without endangering any of their lives. Placing soldiers in ambush – a few dozen meters on the other side of the Separation Barrier – and using lethal live fire against stone-throwers is not a legitimate course of action. The fatal shots at Dar Nasser's head were also illegal, as live fire is permissible only in cases where there is a real and immediate danger to life and when other means of removing it have been exhausted. The shooting in this case is but another expression of the Israeli military's open-fire policy in the Occupied Territories, in which any threat, real or imagined, is met with deadly live fire. According to media reports, an MPIU investigation has been launched. Yet, as B'Tselem has learned from years of experience, this investigation will wind up drawn out and shut down, as its purpose is whitewashing the killing and its result is the continued lethal firing at Palestinians. A.Y, a 19-year-old resident of Bil'in, came to the area of the demonstration at around 4:30 P.M. In a testimony he gave B'Tselem field researcher Iyad Hadad, he described what happened next: : I sat with a group of about 15 youths and waited for the protesters. At around 5:00 P.M., the first protesters started coming to the area above us, and then we went up to the barrier. I saw Islam there with a group of young guys and children but didn't recognize him because his head was covered with a shirt. They were throwing stones with their hands and a slingshot at soldiers standing on the hill, but none of the stones reached them because they were 100 to 150 meters away. I also saw a tent under a large tree, beyond the barrier, about 30 meters south of the children. There are usually soldiers in this tent who disperse the protesters, but it was closed and didn't seem to have soldiers in it. About 15 minutes later, I was with Islam and two other young guys about 15 to 20 meters away from the fence. One of the soldiers on the nearest hill was moving his rifle from side to side. Suddenly, I heard S., one of the young guys who were with me, shouting, "Ambush! Ambush! From the tent!". He barely finished talking, and immediately several shots were fired in a row by two or three soldiers who suddenly came out of the tent. Some of us hid behind the trees, and others dropped to the ground. Islam and S. were five meters away from me, towards the tent. The soldiers were in a lower place than us, so they couldn't hit anyone lying on the ground. After the first burst, the shooting stopped for a few seconds. Islam and the others apparently thought that the soldiers had returned to the tent, and they got up. Suddenly, the soldiers near the tent fired a bullet that hit Islam's head from behind. He fell down right away, didn’t make a sound, and didn't move. In a testimony he gave B'Tselem field researcher Iyad Hadad on 26 May 2021, S.S. (23), a resident of Bil'in, recounted what happened that afternoon: When Islam was killed, I was by his side. We were four young guys. We stood about 20 meters away from the barrier. At 5:15 P.M., I saw two soldiers leaving the tent beyond the barrier. I started shouting, "Ambush! Ambush!" to warn the others so they'd have time to escape. The soldiers fired two or three shots, and we all dropped to the ground or hid behind the trees. Then we got up to throw stones at the soldiers, and then one of the soldiers fired two more consecutive shots. At that moment, Islam was in their firing range, but he didn't see them. He was hit in the head from behind and fell without making a sound. I heard him taking one deep breath and then his body went limp. I dropped to the ground again and crawled over to him to pick him up and take him to the ambulance, but the soldiers fired again. The soldier on the hill also fired at the protesters and at us to stop them from advancing. His bullets hit the rocks next to us. After a few minutes, the shooting stopped, and I could come near and pick up Islam. I carried him in my arms because he didn't weigh much. I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and after a few steps, other guys took him from me. I didn't go on with them since my legs gave out because I was so scared and confused. They took Islam to an ambulance, and I fell to the ground and burst into tears. Several guys continued confronting the soldiers, and they continued firing intermittently, only live fire. In a testimony she gave B'Tselem field researcher Iyad Hadad, Islam's mother, Janat Dar Nasser (36), recalled: On the night before the protest march, Islam asked me if I'd attend. I didn't want to disappoint him and answered we would go for sure. He loved participating in these marches because he'd see friends, and they'd spend time together. That night, Islam spent time with us until late and woke up the next day at 10:00 A.M. He came to the kitchen and helped me make breakfast. He loved cooking and especially making French fries that he and his little brothers like. One of his dreams was to become a famous chef. He always asked me to call him Chef Islam. I was happy about that, and it made me laugh a lot because boys his age always want to become ordinary things like doctors, engineers, pharmacists, and accountants. It's rare to hear of someone like him dreaming of becoming a skilled chef. After breakfast, he wanted to help me clean up, but I refused and asked him to go get ready for his final exams. Islam pressured me to leave early for the march, and in the end, he left the house at 2:30 P.M. Around 5:00, while the kids and I were getting ready to leave for the march, my brother Rani's wife arrived. Rani has been suffering from partial paralysis since the Israeli military wounded him during a protest in 2000. She was confused and worried and asked me to help her prepare his wheelchair and car because he wanted to get to Ramallah quickly. I suspected something was wrong and pressured her to find out what happened exactly. I had a feeling that something bad had happened to Islam or someone else in the family. But she wouldn't tell me. While we were preparing the wheelchair, my nephew Mahmoud (12) arrived. He was crying and said that Islam had been hit in the head and that he'd been taken to a hospital in Ramallah. I went into shock. I started screaming and crying, "My son Islam, my darling. What happened to you? Where are you? God save you, my son. God have mercy. I have nothing but him in the world." Janat drove to the hospital with a relative, where she waited to hear about her son, who was in the operating room. In her testimony, she further recounted: At around 6:30-7:00 P.M., Islam was transferred to the ICU. While I was waiting for reassuring news about his condition, I was informed that he had been killed. I collapsed. I felt like I was blacking out. The doctors and my family gave me sedatives, and I slowly came to. I said goodbye to my son in the cold chamber. He looked like he was smiling at me as usual and saying to me, "Don't take it to heart, Mom. Don't cry. I love you very much. Watch over my brothers and take care of them." I prayed that he would receive Heaven's mercy and forgiveness. We're a small family, and our financial situation is tough, but we dreamt of raising our children, giving them a good education and providing everything that wasn't possible for us. We wanted them to study in good schools, to ensure they have a better future and a less miserable and exhausting life. My son Islam was killed before he could fulfill his dreams. We hoped to see him grow up, study, fulfill his aspirations to become a chef and help his father support the family. I feel like there's no point in my life anymore. I feel alone in this world, without hope, without aspirations, and without a future. I quit my job, and now I sit at home, drained. I find a place to be alone and cry. The state of Islam's father and brothers is no better. They're all in heavy mourning. Since the incident, I've been having trouble sleeping. I move between the rooms and touch his bed, closet, and anything he left behind: clothes, games, books, and things he bought for himself. I remember every happy moment we had together with everything I touch, his sweet smiles, his laughter, and the beautiful things he said. Update: On 18 November 2021, media reports stated that the case was still under investigation. On 1 June 2022, the IDF Spokesperson informed B’Tselem that the case was still under investigation
Al-Jalazun Refugee Camp is located north of Ramallah and has a population of some 14,000, around 5,000 of whom are minors. In 1977, the settlement of Beit El was built near the camp, which led to permanent military presence in the area, observation towers and patrols along the nearby road and the area between the road and the settlement. Near the southeastern entrance to al-Jalazun R.C. are two UNRWA-run schools, one for boys and one for girls. They have an overall student body of 2,000, in grades one to nine. The military has imposed several arbitrary restrictions on these schools: The military prohibited the addition of a third floor to the boys’ school. As a result, the school continues to be short on classrooms. It compelled UNRWA to place the east-facing windows - i.e., the windows facing the settlement of Beit El – in both schools, flush with the ceiling and severely limited how wide the windows could be, resulting in insufficient light and airflow in the classrooms. It has also ordered the schools’ roof lights be kept on all night. The proximity between the settlement and the camp led to a permanent military presence in the area, observation towers, patrols along Route 466 and the area between the road and the settlement, and also roadblocks. Frequent clashes between Israeli security forces and the Palestinian residents have long since become part of daily life in the area. When clashes take place, the security forces use teargas, rubber-coated metal bullets and, in some cases, live fire. Al-Jalazun residents, including minors, have been killed and injured. On top of resulting in casualties, the teargas and gunfire also disrupt life in the camp in general, and school life in particular. Teargas canisters often land near the schools, sometimes in the very schoolyard. Teargas wafts into the classrooms, causing breathing difficulties among both students and teachers. Sometimes, the entire school day must be cancelled. The firing of teargas canisters, rubber-coated metal bullets and live rounds generate an atmosphere fear and tension among the students. The presence of soldiers and police near the schools and the clashes that take place nearby have parents worried over their children’s safety and therefore they take the children to and from school. Click here to enlarge map From November 2017 to January 2018, the military worked on adding another segment to a concrete wall it built in 2015 west of the settlement of Beit El, along Route 466. The new segment of the wall was built near homes that stand east of the road. The homes belong to three families who are part of the extended Hamad family. While construction was underway, the military placed a staffed roadblock about 50 meters away from these homes every day and denied Palestinians travel by car. The children were forced to cross the roadblock on their way to school every day, and the soldiers stationed there insisted on searching them, checking their bags and persistently harassed them. Over the past few months, B’Tselem field researcher Iyad Hadad collected testimonies from al-Jalazun R.C. residents, former school principals, students and parents. They spoke of the disruptions to school life, their fears on the way to and from school and how all this impacts their lives. At around 8:00 A.M. on the morning of 31 December 2017, the military blocked the northern section of the road leading from al-Jalazun R.C. to Ramallah, in connection with the construction underway on the wall along the settlement. The roadblock led to clashes between youths from the camp and the soldiers on security detail for the construction, with the youths throwing rocks and the soldiers firing teargas canisters and rubber-coated metal bullets. That day, the girls’ school was holding its first-term finals. Because of concerns that the clashes would escalate and classes would be canceled for the day, the students were shown into the exam rooms first thing in the morning. Maram Abu Msalam, 13, an eighth-grader at the girls’ school described what happened in a testimony she gave on 3 January 2018: I had a science exam that day. Starting the exam earlier than planned threw me off. I forgot a lot of the material, even though I’d studied and knew it well. At around 8:00 o’clock, I heard shooting outside, and I got even more unsettled. Our classroom is on the second floor, overlooking where the military was. I peeked out from time to time, even though the teacher told us not to. Later, it turned out that a small group of teenagers had thrown stones at the soldiers, and the soldiers were running after them. Then, some of the teargas canisters the military fired landed in the schoolyard, and the gas spread and reached our classroom. We started feeling like we were suffocating. At 8:30, before I finished the exam, the teachers moved us out of our classroom and into the library, since it’s on the first floor, on the other side of the school, where the teargas hadn’t reached. The teachers brought more than 50 girls into the library, and the rest they gradually sent home, one group at a time. We were scared, and many girls felt like they were suffocating. I was in really bad shape. My throat, eyes and face stung something awful. I was tearing badly, I had a terrible headache and I could hardly see. I started yelling for help because I felt like I was going to die. The teachers tried to help me breathe by bringing perfumes and fanning me with books, because there wasn’t enough air in the hall. We couldn’t go outside because there was still teargas in the air, and the military was still firing teargas canisters every once in a while. I felt like I was going to suffocate. The teachers called an ambulance, which took twenty or thirty minutes to arrive. I was helped over to where the ambulance was parked, about forty meters away from the school. The ambulance crew gave me gauze pads soaked in alcohol to put over my nose and waited with me for ten minutes. The paramedic told me: “If you get better, we’ll send you home. If not, we’ll take you to the hospital.” I felt better after about ten minutes. My breathing gradually got better, and the burning sensation in my eyes wasn’t quite as bad. Then they drove me into the camp and I walked home. I didn’t feel too good at home either. My head was really hurting and I took painkillers. I didn’t manage to finish the exam and answered only half the questions. When the teargas started affecting us, the teacher collected the papers. Rahaf Zeid, 15, a ninth-grader at the girls’ school gave her testimony on 18 January 2018: Sometimes, the principal has to cancel classes and send us home early because of clashes going on outside and the military shooting. As the finals approached, we were sent home before the end of the school day two or three times, sometimes even early in the day. Sometimes it was the other way around: we had to stay at school after classes were over because the soldiers set up roadblocks. It makes people angry, and the general atmosphere encourages the boys to start another round of stone throwing. When that happens, we’re afraid to leave school and have to wait until things calm down, or the military leaves. Sometimes we get home an hour or two late, sometimes more. My house is at the far end of the camp, so I get home later than others, and my parents wait for me at home, anxious and worried. On the other hand, the settlers’ kids, who live right across the way from us, with only a road separating us from them, have a calm, comfortable life. They have everything a person needs to live well and study in peace, while we’re denied the opportunity of enjoying our childhood. In a testimony he gave on 20 January 2018, Hikmat Hamed, 14, who lives in the compound of the Hamed family and goes to the boys’ school, described how the clashes and the presence of security forces near the school affect him: Ever since construction on the Beit El settlement wall began, the soldiers have been closing the road and running after stone throwers. They use teargas and stun grenades, and sometimes also live ammunition and “rubber” bullets. Teargas canisters often fell near the school. People here had trouble breathing and school was disrupted. Every time this happens most students suffer severe irritation to their eyes and face. They also get headaches, and they cough and tear up. We usually use perfume or onions against the teargas, so lots of students always carry perfume to be ready for an emergency. Sometimes, when the teargas goes on for a while, the teachers have to call off classes for the rest of the day and send us home. In the last few months - since November 2017 - this has happened several times. The effects of the gas persist for several days, so even if the classrooms get aired out, students still sneeze and cough for a day or two, especially kids with severe allergies. When the military fires teargas canisters, it doesn’t make any distinction between people taking part in protests and those in the classrooms, studying. In their eyes, we’re nothing. They don’t care we’re children and at school. Because I live very near to where the main incidents take place, and Israeli police and military cars often stop near my house and block the road, I’m scared to go home. I often wait at school or go over to a friend in the camp to wait until the clashes die down or stop, or until the soldiers leave. Sometimes it takes a long time and my parents start to get worried. Sometimes, when I leave home to go to school, police officers or soldiers detain me or my cousins, who are older than me and live right next door. They provoke us for no reason, claiming that they have to search us. The same thing happens when we come home. Adults from our family have to come with us when we go or come home to make sure that the police or soldiers don’t harass us. But they have no compassion or respect, either for the adults or us children. We have the right to live a normal life, like children anywhere else in the world. But the military restricts us and blocks our space to make life easier for the children who live in the nearby settlement. Mahmoud Sheikhah, a 49-year-old married father of seven who lives in the camp and whose 13-year-old son attends the boys’ school gave his testimony on 7 March 2018: I work as a sales clerk at a grocery store at the entrance to the camp, about 200 meters away from the school. In the last two years, there have been many problems near the schools because of the presence of the military, which uses teargas, stun grenades, live fire and “rubber” bullets. When that happens, I worry about my son. It’s not just me. I see men and women rushing past the grocery store to get to the school to make sure their children are all right. When you hear that someone’s been hurt, you worry it could be your son. A sense of fear and panic spreads, and everyone starts calling their kids at school or phoning the school office to ask what’s going on and if their kids are okay. We live in constant tension and anxiety. It’s a tough situation. It’s emotionally exhausting and takes a toll on our health. It’s hard to describe. These incidents happen almost every day. Because I live in the Dahyat a-Ta’alim neighborhood, which is just outside the camp, when there are incidents near the school, my son can’t get to school or can’t get home because he’d have to go through the military and the clashes. He has to wait somewhere in the camp, or come to me in the grocery store and wait until things calm down and the military leaves. When the military built the new segment of the wall near the settlement, there were incidents almost every day, and there were many times that my son had trouble breathing because of the gas. He used onion or perfume to treat himself. Twice, when incidents started in the morning, I wouldn’t let him go to school. The military often provokes the students on their way to school and back, which leads to clashes between the soldiers and the kids. I’ve often thought of taking my young son out of the school in al-Jalazun and sending him elsewhere, because of the danger, tension and worry, but there are no good alternatives. To get to school in Ramallah or other villages in the area, he’d have to take the same road, go through the same hotspot and run into the same problems. And that’s on top of the dangers on the road and the high cost of commuting to Ramallah and tuition there. We have no choice but to just accept the situation until Heaven helps and thing improve.
The report surveys the broad spectrum of issues regarding the Israeli authorities' human rights record in the West Bank and Gaza Strip over the past year, the 44th year of the Israeli occupation. An interactive version of the report is available online and distributed through social media. The report documents a sharp increase in the number of uninvolved Palestinians killed by the Israeli security forces in the Gaza Strip in 2011. There was also an increase in the number of Israeli civilians killed by Palestinians, compared to 2010.
