A Chance Encounter: Imprisonment without Charge or Trial
Earlier in the evening, we had discovered that there had been a military incursion into the village involving two vehicles and we wanted to gage for ourselves the mood of the villagers. So we set out for the South Agricultural Gate from where we were told the soldiers had left earlier. We were on our way back from the South Gate late in the evening when a group of young men sitting outside a house invited us to sit down and drink some coffee. After an exchange of pleasantries, one of them proceeded to tell us of his experiences at the hands of the Israeli military. He is a 27-year old journalist and a member of the communist party. His story begins with another military incursion back in 2003.
There were many jeeps in the village and people were throwing stones. There was shooting and there were soldiers behind me. They put plastic on my hands and my legs. "Now you can hit him,” said one soldier to the others. Ten soldiers hit me and detained me together with Amjad, a crazy man in the village. They took me to the District Commissioner’s Office (DCO) and continued hitting me. The police said: “Don’t say anything.” There was blood all over my body, you can still see the scar on my head. They took me to the hospital. The doctor asked, “What happened?” I said, “soldiers.” I was accused of lying. “Not soldiers.” Doctor six stitches. Eyes big.
I was taken to Tel Aviv police station. Told to “shush, shush. Didn’t happen. You bombed yourself.” I was pushed to the ground. Hit like an animal. “We’ll throw you in front of jeep.” I was taken to a settlement near Al Funduq. Hit on the legs. Four hours. Kick him. “Bombed yourself.” They took all my personal items. ID card. We were in a small room. “You threw stones. Shush. Liar. All your injuries come from falling to the ground!” In the morning, doctors came. “You need antibiotics.” My wounds were bandaged. Israelis got pesach to eat. My food was waste bread and one tomato. “That’s enough. You can dream about all of this.” My legs and hands were tied behind my back. They made loud noise. Not music. Like crazy things. I still feel it in my brain. 1-3 hours. “If you want to say anything, OK. Who is your friend? Where are you staying?” “No, no, no, I don’t throw stones.” “OK, you can leave now.”
23 days, 5-7 hours on a chairs. He holds a gun. “Now I shoot you. Sign this paper.” I couldn’t sign it so was punched and kicked like crazy. They took me near Ramallah (Ofar?) for one month together with the crazy man. Went to court six times. All soldiers said, “You were crazy like the other man. Stay on the ground.” Hot. “Don’t look left or right.” I was transferred to Meggido prison. Went to court twice from there. Six month period. Couldn’t go home.
I’ve no permit for my fields. These guys [the men sharing coffee with us] are laughing now but when a young person is alone he’s crying. There is no future. We all know friends who have been killed. Twenty friends. Five friends. A friend shot three times in the head after have been shot in the leg. His job: cameraman. He wanted to document curfews, demonstrations, the West Bank.
This felt like a very authentic account of a horrific experience of imprisonment without charge or trial. It was a harrowing experience listening to this personable young man tell his chilling story. We continued on our way home in a sober mood reflecting on what we had heard.
