In a dream, I saw myself flying a kite. And I was like the kite—free. But when I woke up to fly it, one of us wasn’t free. —Sabeel 3 APRIL—A text arrived from a friend two weeks ago today, at 4:27 a.m. North American Central Time. Fajr, dawn prayer, had just ended in Occupied Palestine. The message was from Sadeel. Sadeel, to clarify, is the older sister of Sabeel, the poet and artist whose work I publish above. I use their first names only for security reasons. Muslims were then still celebrating Ramadan, and the Israeli Occupation Forces were using the opportunity to escalate their campaign of terror and ethnic cleansing. Sadeel messaged me with an update on the violence in her home town of Dura—located 11 km southwest of al–Khalil in the Hebron Governorate—and to share some thoughts about a report I had just published on West Bank Alerts. That report, “I.O.F. targets refugee camps,” can be read here. Sadeel’s message, sent by WhatsApp, has a singular quality to it. It captures with rare immediacy the precariousness of life in the West Bank where Palestinians live, hour by hour, in a state of constant uncertainty and fear even as they attempt to carry on with daily activities. This is by design. I share Sadeel’s text below with her permission, and in its entirety, with minor edits for the sake of clarity. —C.M. SadeelPeople here say that everything starts and ends in the refugee camps. That is why they (I.O.F.) keep targeting camps. And then Sabeel told me that it does not matter. Camps will always be a target and they will never stop until they wipe out every camp in the West Bank. She said, “Even if there isn’t that much resistance activity in Al-Fawwar they still target it because of the fear that one day things might explode right before they see it.” She told me that from her experience at Al-Fawwar—Sabeel attended the 12th grade at a high school inside the camp—she saw the resistance herself. Resistance is still present there even when we don’t see it or hear about it. And every person in Al–Fawwar knows about this. My mom stayed in the car while we went to grab qatayef—a famous dessert we eat during Ramadan only. Sabeel and I sat upstairs waiting for them to prepare our order. Then we saw that people started staring out the window and the look on their faces changed. They looked concerned. That’s when Sabeel said, “They’re raiding.” We didn’t even have to check the news. The workers there asked people to stay away from the windows. And mind you there were kids there. In that moment the only thing I was worried about was my mom and not us because we left her in the car. A few moments later she came and I thanked God she did. We ended up staying there for maybe half an hour. They (I.O.F.) didn’t leave but they went to another area in Dura, so people took advantage of that and left the restaurant. It was so sad. I looked at the people still sitting at the tables. They were scared and didn’t even finish their drinks or desserts. And another thing: Even the raiding hours are intentional. They raid before Iftar, around 2:00 - 4:00 p.m., which is the time when people leave their jobs to go home, and when students go home too. It is also when people go to grocery shop for necessities before Iftar. Everyday they raid and injure people. The second time they raid is usually after Isha prayer when people are already in the mosques praying. So by the time people leave they start gas bombing and that’s when young people start throwing rocks at the I.O.F. The whole situation is a total mess. Every night they injure young men around that time. They raid, they scare people, and leave. Here Sadeel’s letter ends. ■ News travels quickly via local Telegram channels whenever a raid begins. This is true throughout the West Bank. People need to know where the I.O.F. is and in what direction they appear to be traveling so as to avoid those areas. In a message I received just this afternoon—in answer to my request for clarification—Sadeel expanded upon her original text:
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