CRY FREEDOM.net
Welcome to cryfreedom.net,
formerly known as Womens
Liberation Front.
A website
that hopes to draw and keeps your attention for both the global 21th. century 3rd. feminist revolution as well
as especially for the Zan, Zendegi, Azadi uprising in Iran and the
struggles of our sisters in other parts of the Middle East. This online magazine
that started December 2019 will
be published every week. Thank you for your time and interest.
For the Iran 'Woman, Life, Freedom' Iran news Updated Oct 9, 2024
For the 'Women's Arab Spring 1.2' Revolt
news
Updated Oct. 4, 2024 |
|
SPECIAL
REPORTS
Oct
wk2P2 -- Oct
wk2 --
Oct wk1 P3 --
Oct wk1 P2 --
Oct wk1 --
Sept wk4 P3 --
Sept wk4 P2 --
Sept wk4 --
Sept wk3 P3 --
Sept wk 3 P2
--
--
Click here for an overview by week in 2024
|
October 8 - 6, 2024 |
October 5 - 3, 2024 |
June 14, 2024 |
|
May 23, 2024 |
When one hurts or kills a women
one hurts or kills hummanity and is an antrocitie.
Gino d'Artali
and: My mother (1931-1997) always said to me <Mi
figlio, non esistono notizie <vecchie> perche puoi imparare qualcosa da
qualsiasi notizia.> Translated: <My son, there is no such thing as so
called 'old' news because you can learn something from any news.>
Gianna d'Artali.
Al Jazeera - Oct 7, 2024 - By Al Jazeera Staff
<<No rest in Umm al-Khair: Settler violence overshadows life
Umm al-Khair, occupied West Bank - When Tariq Hathaleen stays up late on
watch duty, he would prefer to sleep in the next morning, but the
29-year-old never knows how he will wake up. Sometimes it is messages on
his phone alerting him to nearby Israeli settler or military activity,
and sometimes, he is jolted out of bed to the noise of early morning
attacks or incursions just outside. Along with his cousins, Eid and
Awdah Hathaleen, Tariq is among the community leaders of Umm al-Khair, a
small Bedouin village of approximately 200 where the rocky South Hebron
Hills reach the parched edges of el-Bariyah, also known as the Judean
Desert. Every day, people wake up expecting to become homeless, Tariq
said, sitting on a bench during a late-night watch in the community
centre playground. "We live in continuous fear," he said. "You don't
know what will happen - whether the settler that is coming to shepherd
next to your house will decide to attack you or not."
Unpredictable harrassment, unpredictable outcomes
Since late June, a string of violent or aggressive incidents have taken
place in Umm al-Khair, with incursions by Israeli settlers, and
sometimes the Israeli army, becoming a daily occurrence. Homes have been
invaded, solar panels have been smashed, the water supply has been cut
and shots have been fired. There have been physical and pepper spray
attacks and myriad other acts of harassment. In the mornings when there
are no incursions, the men on overnight watch sleep in the community
centre playground. As the desert sun starts beating down, the
community's many children start playing around their sleeping bodies.
This community centre, built with donations from supporters abroad,
serves as an oasis of normalcy for these children growing up under
constant threat and harassment. Its large playground is a rarity for
Palestinians - not only in Area C, the part of the occupied West Bank
under Israeli military control, but in all of the occupied territory,
where Palestinians typically have neither the municipal resources nor
space for such communal amenities. Days have similar patterns. As the
mornings progress, children continue to play, loudly, unreservedly and
mostly unsupervised, until their parents wake up - or incursions from
the military or settlers start. The villagers never know when or how
they will be threatened, they explained, but nearly every day since late
June, the settlers or army have come - separately and together.
Sometimes they drive into the village in trucks and raid people's homes.
Sometimes drones buzz overhead. When this happens, the playground gets
quiet. "The army! Soldiers!" the kids will shout, looking upward. It is
so common that the children seem accustomed to it. Even during heated
confrontations between the Israeli army and villagers, children can be
seen riding their bikes between the two groups. Harassment by Israeli
settlers comes at unpredictable times, and with unpredictable violence.
As early as 5am, teenage settlers who herd sheep for a settler from the
adjacent illegal Israeli settlement of Carmel, bring their flocks to
graze beside villagers' homes.
Settlers playacting at being Bedouins
It is common across Area C for these shepherding outposts to be overseen
by one settler and operated by several teenagers, many of whom are
funnelled to these outposts through rehabilitation programs for at-risk
youth funded by organisations such as the Jewish National Fund. The
Jewish National Fund did not respond to Al Jazeera's request for
comment. The teens, armed with pistols, pepper spray and sticks, also
frequently occupy the town's only water source, sometimes remaining
there with their flock for hours at a time. Often, they verbally
intimidate women and children nearby, and sometimes they even try to
enter their homes. Though the settlers are baby-faced, their armed
presence frightens the villagers as they assume a threatening stance
towards anyone who dares to come near them. The Palestinians also know
that if they ever fight back, they will most likely have to face more
attacks from the settlers or a response from Israeli soldiers. And so
the settlers continue their attacks. The water source has now been
attacked multiple times. Early in July, the water supply was cut off
entirely when settler shepherds severed the pipe. On July 1, two Israeli
teenagers encroached upon a family’s flock with their own, a tactic
often used to obscure ownership and take livestock from Palestinians.
Women from the family tried to keep the flocks separated, but the
teenagers attacked them with sticks and pepper spray. Soon after, a
settler leader from the nearby illegal settlement of Shorashim arrived
and shot live rounds into the air. During this attack, 10 Palestinians
were injured, including Tariq, and five were taken to hospital. At
first, the Israeli settler leader tried to prevent the ambulance from
leaving, telling the army that three of the injured were actually
attackers. "It just doesn't make any sense," Tariq said. The people of
Umm al-Khair were traditionally shepherds themselves until two or three
years ago, when the remaining land in the village and its vicinity was
declared Israeli state land, preventing them from grazing their sheep.
Penned up inside the village, the flocks became an economic burden -
their food had to be bought - rather than an income generator.
Only the Israeli shepherds now roam the village’s grazing areas, taking
on the traditional roles and lifestyle of Bedouin villagers.
'Is this yours?'
Such trends can be seen across Area C, where settler shepherd outposts
managed to seize up to 7 percent of the land by 2022, according to
research done by Israeli NGO Kerem Navot. According to preliminary
estimates by the NGO, that figure has likely multiplied in the last two
years alone, with thousands of additional dunums [hundreds of acres or
hectares] seized by these shepherds since October 2023, taking over land
once used by Bedouins. "They are not only shepherding, they literally
try to live the life of the Bedouins," Tariq said of the settlers. "They
build tents, they keep donkeys, horses, camels, goats, sheep. They even
dress like us Bedouins. They speak and sing Bedouin songs." Tariq
chuckled. "You know, it's really funny because those people really don't
know how to do things. They just imitate." As each tense day unfolds in
Umm al-Khair, the children keep themselves occupied. Outside at the
community centre, an eight-year-old boy named Arafat pushes around an
empty baby carriage, "selling vegetables". "Potatoes! Watermelon!
Cucumbers!" Arafat bellows. He is a precocious young child, sharp and
never shy with strangers after years of solidarity activists coming to
the village. He gave a price for his imaginary goods: "Five shekels
($1.37) per kilo," and completed the "transaction" while reporting on
how business has been. "This week has been OK," the little shopkeeper
said casually. Earlier that day, settlers had come to Umm al-Khair,
confronting and cursing the villagers. Arafat has had his own run-ins
with the settlers. "Just the other week, they came and attacked my home
and pepper sprayed my father and he went to the hospital," he said,
dropping the shopkeeper persona and ignoring the jarring transition
between his play and the reality of settler attacks. Arafat was
referring to June 29, when the teenage settlers entered his family's
home. When the family tried to push them out, they recounted, the teens
attacked several family members with pepper spray. Arafat's father,
Muhammad, had to be taken to hospital. But immediately after mentioning
that recent trauma, Arafat turned to a 20 shekel bill lying on the dirt
ground nearby, picking it up. "Is this yours?" he asked while holding up
the bill, running up to everyone he saw in the village. "Is this yours?
Is this yours?" Mixing imaginary "business" with real-life "trauma"
comes seamlessly to Arafat and other children in the community. Yet, in
recent weeks, parents in the village have reported their children waking
up at night with nightmares of being attacked and shot at by the
settlers. The abutting settlement of Carmel, which crowds Umm al-Khair
on the same hill, was established in 1980 - and largely on land the
villagers' elders started buying in the 1950s, the villagers said. The
first demolition orders on their homes were issued in 1995, they say,
and the first demolitions took place in 2007. There have been periodic
demolitions ever since - nearly the entire village is under demolition
orders - however, hostility and violence from neighbouring settlers have
escalated since October 7, when Hamas attacked southern Israel and
Israel began its war on Gaza. In one incident, leaders from the village,
including Tariq and Eid Hathaleen, were held at gunpoint by neighbouring
settlers they knew personally. These threats and attacks have
intensified since June 26. On that day, the ICA demolished 11 structures
in the village, leaving 28 people homeless, including 20 children. Eid
Hathaleen, a 40-year-old father of five girls, has spent years
documenting such demolitions across the South Hebron Hills. But seeing
his own home of 18 years demolished that day was still difficult to
grasp. "I thought: 'Am I dreaming? Or is it the truth?'" recalled Eid, a
calm and soft-spoken man, wearing his signature cowboy hat. "But when I
closed my eyes and opened them, I realised through the noise of the
bulldozer, the shouting and crying of my community around me - it's
true. It's happening."
Nothing left but a clothesline
Later that afternoon, when displaced families attempted to erect a
makeshift tent for shade from the blazing summer heat, the Israeli army
took it down as well. "Israel can go to [places affected by] earthquakes
around the world and give first aid," said Eid with an exasperated
chuckle. "But they don't allow shade for people [whose] homes they just
demolished." Eid and his family are now forced to live in their
neighbour’s metal storage shed.
Every day, he passes by the rubble where his family home once stood.
"This was the kitchen, and this was where we slept," he explained over
an indistinguishable pile of frayed wiring and pulverised concrete. All
that's recognisable is the clothesline the family still uses. The area
containing his and others’ demolished homes has been declared a military
zone. "If I try to rebuild, I'm afraid that Israel will come to tear
down the building," said Eid. "But in a few months, winter will arrive,
and it gets so cold here - so windy, so stormy in the South Hebron
Hills. I don't know what to do."
Desperate for housing, the dispossessed families eventually put up tents
again. But on August 14, the ICA came and demolished them - the 18th
round of demolitions the community has faced since 2007. These
demolitions and attacks continue as settler violence and pressure from
the ICA - now run by the far-right Israeli politician and settler
Bezalel Smotrich - have escalated this summer across Area C. Since
August 10, three Palestinian communities in the Jordan Valley,
comprising more than 100 people, have been forced out of their homes by
settler violence: Ein el-Hilweh al-Farsiya Khallet Khader and al-Farisiya
al-Zubi, according to local activists and the West Bank Protection
Consortium. In Umm al-Khair, Eid is the philosopher among the village
leaders. He tells his children to recognise the humanity and
perspectives of all humans - including Israelis, he said. But his hopes
for some kind of future peace have grown more distant since October.
Now, even the settlers of Carmel who were once somewhat more moderate -
at least willing to talk to Eid - help carry out raids at night in
military uniform or threaten villagers for trying to pick from a garden
near the settlement's fenced border.
'The chickens are kept comfortable, not the people'
Eid looked across the valley towards a large chicken coop operated by
the settlers. Electrical wiring from the settlement conveniently passes
over Umm al-Khair - its spartan tin homes without centralised water or
electricity - to power the building. "Their chickens have water, paved
roads and high-power electricity to keep them heated in winter and
comfortable in summer," said Eid, as he stood beside his demolished
home. "But human beings? Not allowed." Each day, his family struggles to
"just survive" in the metal shed where they now live, facing the simple
but difficult question from his five little girls: "Why?" "It's hard to
fix things,” said Eid. "Sometimes, I give up. I am so tired that I want
to just sit down and do nothing, really."
"But I love life."
At midday, on days the village is spared an attack, some men in Umm al-Khair
nap. But whenever a settler's car drives through their village, everyone
freezes, all eyes immediately turning to the approaching vehicle. They
wonder: Is it merely passing through, or is this the next attack?
Tariq explained that constant uncertainty and daily hostilities make it
difficult to focus on multiple tasks at once. "You set up a whole plan
for your day, but you end up somewhere far away from what you planned
for." One of those tasks recently was to prepare - for once -
celebrations: two upcoming weddings in the village, including Tariq's
brother's. Simply planning them made him anxious. "Just let us
celebrate," Tariq thought at the time, "and then we're ready to go back
to this harsh life of daily attacks and raids by the army and settlers".
The village had permission from the ICA to build a special tent for the
weddings. But the night after they began constructing the tent, settlers
in military uniform arrived. An ICA representative demanded the tent be
taken down within 10 minutes and the settlers started dismantling it.
Two days later, Tariq and the villagers learned that permission to hold
the events had been rescinded. "How are we not allowed to [have] a
wedding?" Tariq asked incredulously. "How are we not allowed to
celebrate?" The village held a scaled-back wedding ceremony at the
community centre instead.
Until when?
Circumstances and tragedy have thrust younger villagers like Tariq and
his cousins into leadership roles atypical for Bedouin villages. In
2000, Tariq's oldest brother, Muhammad, was out shepherding when he was
brutally attacked by the settlement’s security guard. Though he
survived, the assault left him severely disabled. Then, Tariq's father
died of a heart attack in 2009. In 2022, his beloved uncle, Hajj
Suleiman, a powerful community leader, stood in the way of a tow truck
that was confiscating villagers' cars. The truck ran over Suleiman - he
died 12 days later. "He was like the fruit of life. Without him, it's
been a very hard life for me," said Tariq. "Honestly, I don't even know
how we are holding up." The Hathaleen clan's current mukhtar, or chosen
leader, lives outside the village and, while they seek counsel with
remaining village elders, it is up to this new generation now to handle
the daily issues the occupation and settlers pose. While other men -
early morning shepherds by nature - struggle to stay awake at night,
this comes easy to Awdah and Tariq, who otherwise would be lying awake
in bed, their minds racing. Tariq's words darkened as he kept watch at
night and wondered out loud what would happen the next time the settlers
shot or killed someone: "How will that impact the community?"
"Because at the end of the day, we're not machines. We're human beings.
We have feelings. We have dreams. We have thoughts. We have hearts. We
have minds." He tries to stay positive, using humour to help lighten the
mood, and does what he can to keep the village humming despite the
constant threats. But in quiet moments, the weight takes its toll. "I
sometimes wish that I was disabled like my brother, not really aware of
what's happening," Tariq said. "I wish I didn't have to feel bad about
anything... But it's not in our hands. And you know what? I wish that I
was also with my uncle when they ran him over, that I died with him." A
motorcycle suddenly screeched nearby and Tariq stood up, on guard once
again. After a moment, the motorcycle rode off and he slumped back to
the bench.
"I want to know for one second. At least the last single second of my
life, I want to know when this will end."
SOURCE: AL JAZEERA>>
https://www.aljazeera.com/features/longform/2024/10/7/no-rest-in-umm-al-khair-settler-violence-overshadows-life-in-the-west-bank
Women's
Liberation Front 2019/cryfreedom.net 2024