Arrest and deportation

 

I'm putting a fairly neutral account of my experience here for information purposes. I am fully aware that had I been Palestinian, my treatment would have been far worse.

As I write this, eight Palestinians have been killed by torture, ill-treatement and medical negligence since the breakout from the Gaza concentration camp. 

 

 

Shib alButum

 

I was arrested during a house demolition in Shib alButum, Masafer Yatta.

 

International and Israeli human rights groups had been maintaining a regular presence in this hamlet in the hope of reducing incidences of settler violence.

 

 

 

On the morning of 22 November, myself, an Israeli, and another international, were about to leave after having spent the night in Shib alButum. 2 other Israeli activists came to pick us up. As we were climbing into the car we saw a convoy composed of 2 bulldozers, army jeeps and white pickups heading towards the village.

 

At first, I assumed that they were coming to dig up and block one of the roads used by Palestinians to access the main settler road which runs between Masafer Yatta and the city of Yatta.

 

When it became apparent that this was not the case, we prepared to record what would happen.

 

We witnessed and filmed the demolition of living quarters, an agricultural building and the sheep pen. None of us intervened other than to protest verbally at certain aspects of the destruction. After most of the demolition had been carried out, the soldiers (responding to the order of a settler, according to one of my comrades) pushed everyone back from the rubble and ruins.

 

At this point the police started asking the non-Palestinians for ID. Once they saw my passport, there was a brief exchange between members of the police force, then I was told to follow the police officers. At no point did they speak to me other than to say “give me your passport, come here.” Only after I had been marched to the door of a pickup, did one of the men show me his ID, and tell me I was under arrest. This was around 11 or 11.30am

 

They confiscated my phone immediately. There was no interaction in the drive to Ma’ale Adumim, apart from: “so you are a Hamas supporter?”.

I requested to speak to a lawyer, this was refused.

I was handcuffed.

 

 

Police Station

 

In Ma’ale Adumim all of my belongings were confiscated and I was put in a cell. I was on my own and tried to doze off on a metal bench.

 

After some time, I was taken out and asked a couple of basic questions. I was then given the list of charges, all of which I denied.

(these included hampering the work of the army,  insulting the symbols of the state and supporting terrorism) At this point, I had a phone call with the lawyer. (The police had asked me if I had a lawyer, I replied that I had a number in my phone. I was not allowed to look up the number, and they asked me, “If you are just visiting, why do you have a lawyer’s number?” )

 

The lawyer that my comrades had spoken to advised me to keep silent, and told me that I would probably be detained for about 6 days. She told me that my “activist friends” were working hard on my behalf. This was really something that kept my spirits up. I then went back to my cell.

 

There was a session where I was photographed and my finger and hand prints were taken, Then came the interrogation. It was in Hebrew, with a very patchy translation into English. I answered the basic questions (Identity, arrival in the country…) and maintained silence on anything more specific. I was being shown photos from my FB account, I did give some pieces of information about these photos (e.g. "Not a Hamas demonstration, but an all-party demonstration against the killings in Gaza."  or "These portraits are of prisoners, not martyrs") I had the impression that the people who had picked these photos could read neither the English nor the Arabic captions, At one point the woman interrogator (wearing a Jewish headscarf) began to shout and rant at me. She shouted about the 7^th October and made me look at what she said were videos of atrocities committed by Hamas. She claimed that I support these atrocities and am responsible for them. Her colleague didn’t bother to translate all of her diatribe. I think that I said something along the lines of “you cant be serious” at this point, but other than that, I kept repeating “my lawyer said I should remain silent”.

 

This interrogation was printed out, all in Hebrew; I refused to sign and didn’t get a copy.

 

All of this took up the afternoon and most of the evening. I had drunk only a cup of coffee. I hadn’t asked for food nor been given any, I was then told I was being taken to jail and would be before a judge in the morning. I managed to recuperate some clothes from my bag, but no hygiene products. I was told I would get food and a toothbrush in the jail.

 

When you are in the cell, you don’t wear handcuffs. You do when moving around the police station. When being driven to and from the jail my feet were shackled too.

 

 

 

HaSharon Prison

 

Jail was pretty far away – HaSharon. When we got there, I was insulted and shouted at by the female guards. They strip searched me, laughing and making remarks in Hebrew and pulling me over backwards by my hair. I had my blood pressure checked by a paramedic – they had to check 3 times to get an acceptable result! Then I was put in a cell. At this point, I asked the guard for food, he laughed, said “Lo”, and retorted something in Hebrew (few people I met in the prison system spoke English to me)

 

My cellmate was a Palestinian woman from Silwan. She said she had been picked up for just walking down the street and had been in the cell for 3 days. I forced myself to try to eat some of the remains of the food that she had been given. Cold frankfurter sausages, urgh!

 

 

 

I wasn’t given water (there was a tap over a semi-blocked sink), my metal bunk didn’t have a mattress, and I didn’t have a blanket.

 

I spent the time deciding what to say to the judge and trying to doze. At one point the guard brought a mattress.

 

In the morning, my cellmate was taken away. I tried to wash a bit: not so easy with no towel, no soap… I did some stretching and breathing exercises. If I were doing this again, I’d try to have some poetry, stories or songs in my mind to work on. I found that I lost my notion of time very quickly.

 

The court proceedings were via Skype. 4 Palestinian defendents and myself were on camera at different moments. The sound quality was poor, there was no translation and at no point was I asked to speak, or even to answer a question.

 

The rest of the day was miserable. I was cold, had a caffeine headache, couldn’t force down the unappetizing food. I tried asking for coffee, tea, paracetamol...no go.

 

In the evening, they took me out of the cell. I was taken to a vehicle; once we were moving, I was given a phone and told to talk to my lawyer. She told me about the deportation order, said she was appealing it, but held out no hope, because the judges were crazy. The policemen in the car played Ana Israel Hay, explained it and sang along to it. One of them had a Nazi Hunters 2023 logo on his phone.

 

 

 

Ben Gurion Airport

 

At the airport detention facility I had an interview with a guy who said he was “immigration police”. He said he was an Arab, he spoke good English. He asked me if I would agree to the deportation, which I did (I was due to go home anyway!)

 

 

 

Then he asked me to talk about my “visa”. (Which was a standard tourist visa, prolonged til the month of February) Reminded me I had the right to remain silent etc. I got a coffee and we then had a peculiar conversation, partly about what I had done and where I had been in the WB (I wanted to talk about Masafer Yatta, he wanted to talk about Jerusalem) but mostly about religion. For him, like for the woman who had interrogated me the day before, the word “shaheed” acted as a trigger. I said it meant witness (we were sitting looking at my FB picture of Abu Akleh) and he went off on a long rant (in a mixure of English and Arabic) about suicide belts and virgins. This interview, in Hebrew, was being professionally translated into French. The interpreter didn’t bother to translate the rant. All very odd.

 

As before, the interrogation was printed out, all in Hebrew, I refused to sign and didn’t get a copy.

 

I was then given a tuna sandwich, a toothbrush and toothpaste, a towel, there was a hot shower and an adequate bed. No one else in the small dormitory. They woke me a bit after 3am to put me on the plane. I couldn’t use my phone until I was on the plane.