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Occupation magazine - Life under occupation

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Such are the nights in Qalandiya Refugee Camp
Aya Kaniuk
Mahsanmilim
3.4.10

http://www.mahsanmilim.com/we_were_told_E.htm


Much has been said about Israel’s sinister ways of recruiting collaborators.
Denial of the right to study and work and move about, denying terminal patients their right to travel out of Gaza, elsewhere, to receive life-extending treatment – unless the dying patient or his/her relative collaborate with Israel. When they refused, they remained in Gaza and some also died as a direct result of this.
And there is this, what only at first glance appears to be the way collaborators are recruited. Only it isn’t.
Like what happened a few weeks ago in Hizma village.

They came in the afternoon, Faisal Al Khatib tells us. Between noon and half-past. Four jeeps and that white jeep. That’s how we know it’s the Shabak (Security Services). Because of the white DCO jeep (District Coordinating Office). And there’s a guy who wears regular clothes. Not a uniform. So they made the round of the village and stopped next to the mosque.

I was just coming out of my house, walking over to my parents’ place, and near the mosque I see some jeeps. I thought I’d go back inside but I noticed people passing-by as usual and no one’s doing anything to them so I thought to myself I’d go over there, the usual way.

When I was still quite far from them, I don’t exactly know how far, I see some soldier pointing his gun at me. Aiming at me. You know, his eye on the sight. Hands up, he yelled. So I held my hands up. Shirt up, he yelled. I did. Pant-legs up, he yelled. And I began to yell in all the languages and approached him. I didn’t care about anything. And he didn’t shoot me. I walked really fast until I was standing right up there to his face. And he continues to yell his Hebrew, orders at me. With his gun pointed at me.
Then the Security Services guy came. The one who’s dressed normal and is older than the soldiers. I don’t know exactly how old, over thirty maybe.
And he says to me, these are the soldier’s orders, you should respect them.
And I said, you should respect. I will not respect the orders of an occupation soldier in a peaceful village.
And he told me, you don’t know me.
I said: Nor do you know me.
Because I was angry.
I’m the officer. I’m the new Security Services man, the new captain. You don’t know who you’re talking to if you speak like that.
Who am I talking to? I answer. The Prime Minister? I know who, a little Security Services guy.

And I think to myself how Faisal manages to defeat them time after time. With his non-warring upright presence. With his clear radicalism. Uncompromising. With his striving for peace. For justice. For responsibility. With his demand for morality. Even under occupation and from the occupier and in spite of all the dangers. Amazing. It’s amazing they haven’t shot him yet. He, who constantly says to them: NO.

And the Secret Services guy let the soldiers search me, Faisal continued. Not even a special kind of search. Normal. Not even a hand stuck in my pocket. And then they asked me for my ID and I said I lost it.
And the captain said, okay, and he didn’t even care that I had no ID on me, and said, you come to my office at such and such a time. And then he asked me, what’s your name? He asked so that the soldier would note it in their piece of paper.
You understand? He’s not looking for me. He has no idea what my name is. Just to summon me to him like that in the middle of the village.

I’ve seen how they do it with others. There was an army officer there standing next to him and the Secret Services guy signaled to the officer to call someone or other to him, but not the older people, just youngsters. So someone would approach and he’d ask him what’s your name, and they’d write his name down and give him a summons to the Security Services.

So the moment he gave me that note with my name on it to come to the Security Services I took it and tore it up. Sure I tore it up.
I said to him, if the Security Services or the police or army are looking for me you could have arrested me. But your law and your files forbid you to come and tell me to report to your office. And I thought that right then and there he’d get me into his jeep and arrest me. And I waited. And then he told me I’ll get back to you. At night. I’ll arrest you at night.
And I said to him, if you come to arrest me you’re wasting your fuel, your boss’ money. You’re not going to get what you’re trying to get here from me, you’ll only lose to someone like me who’s been a political prisoner for twelve years and is not afraid of anything.

Finally he left me alone. He didn’t arrest me. He forgot about me. Perhaps he had other people for his purposes.

Then I saw another poor guy, how the Security Services guy telling him - near everyone else - if I summon you will you come?
If you summon me, I’ll come, he said. What could he tell him.
So the Secret Services guy took his phone number and called him up to check. That it’s the right number. Right in front of everyone. And again he asked, if I call you will you come?
I’ll come, he said.
He didn’t give him a note or anything. He didn’t have to, because now people will talk, hey, the Security Services called him. And they’ll talk about his working with the Security Services.

There was one other guy beside me who tore up the note.

They were there for about an hour and a half and then they left.

Why? I ask him. What’s their point, after all if this was about recruiting collaborators, why do it in plain sight of everyone. It doesn’t even serve their own purposes to have people know that a guy who’s been asked to collaborate was told to report to the Security Services. What kind of sense does this make, do you get it?

So people would talk. So they’d think. Tell each other. So a kid would go out later and stab someone so that he wouldn’t be considered a collaborator. Jasoos. Or tell that he was going to do that. To go stab a soldier or something of the kind. And give up his life. And his heart would be torn. That’s the point.

And I add that it’s done to shatter the soul of this society. Its cohesiveness. Its inner force. Its collective power. To poison and disrupt. To sow mistrust among people, to make them suspect each other and fear and not trust anyone.

Another of Israel’s sins to be etched in infamy for ever and ever.

rh
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