We
went to the village of Salem, to pay respect and
express our condolences to the family of Sa'al Jabara
who had been killed on September 29, 2004, by a
settler. Eye witnesses told us they had been driving
on a sand path out of the village. Sa'al made a
living driving people on the paths in and out of
his village. All regular roads are blocked with
concrete cubes, dirt mounds and deep ditches that
surround the village. The road we traveled on is
forbidden to Palestinians. It is an Apartheid road
– permitted only to Israelis. Sa'al attempted
to CROSS that road on his way to the next village,
Beit Dajan, not to travel on it, God forbid (!),
just cross it! But that, too, is a felony. The settler
saw him from far away, got out of his car and waited
as Sa'al and his six passengers drew near. Sa'al
opened his window to talk, even managed to ask,
“Is something wrong ?” when he was shot
twice from a distance of two (!!) meters. As Sa'al
was bleeding and the passengers begged the settler
to call for help, the settler said, smiling,“
let him die”. Another settler’s car stopped
to offer help, but the first settler told them to
go away. They did.
The
settler was arrested, but immediately released,
as the judge declared there is not enough proof
the killing was intentional. The police admitted
the settler had lied and changed his version several
times, but still, they cannot rely on the five testimonies
of the Palestinians, as they are not objective!!!!
THIS IS HOW JUSTICE IS PERFORMED IN 2004 ISRAEL!
This is why Palestinians refrain from complaining
to the Israeli Authorities. They say – what
good will it do? Will we get fair justice?
Getting
to Salem was almost a military operation –
there is no legal prohibition on entering the village,
but every time we had gone there in the past, once
spotted by the Israeli Army, they said that if we
don't leave immediately they will search, house-to-house,
with all the implications – total destruction
and chaos – something like after a burglary
in our normal lives. So we left. This time our driver
dropped us off somewhere on the settler's road,
(it was, we realized too late, a mistake to come
on the Jewish holiday as we were the only vehicle
on the Apartheid road - very, very conspicuous,
but luckily, we weren't caught). We ran to the dirt
path, and after 200 meters were not seen from the
road anymore. One kilometer further down, our Palestinian
friends were waiting for us, not daring come any
closer to that road.
At
that spot we met a couple of elderly Palestinians,
sixty - seventy years old, and their ten year old
grandson, who were picking olives. They asked if
we could come one day and help them – most
of their trees are close to the road and both the
army and settlers would shoot them if they picked
their OWN PRIVATE OLICES, FROM THEIR OWN REGISTERED
LAND! They told us there are orchards on the other
side of the road, theirs as well, but they haven't
set foot in them for years. What should they do?,
they asked, with begging eyes.
When
we reached the mourners' home, we joined the women
first. The widow seemed in shock, and so did her
nineteen year old daughter. Their faces numb and
expressionless. We thought at first it was hostility
towards us, but saw that was their reaction to Palestinians,
too. The other women told us the family lost their
sole provider, and since they were poor when he
was alive – they have nothing to eat now. Looking
around, we noticed the house has no furniture –
only the mattresses on the floor, serving the mourners.
The deceased left behind six children, two of whom
are blind. All of the children seem very timid,
but then entered Jasmine, eighteen years old, blind
from birth.
Jasmine
is a confident, very verbal and fluent in English,
young woman. She went to a boarding school in Ramallah,
but a year ago returned to her home and goes to
the local high school. She is proud of being a top
student in a regular school. And with good reason.
Her dream is to complete her Matriculation exams,
go to University and become an English teacher.
She spoke about how she feels no hate, but has patience
for the ones who have darkened her world once again….
What a remarkable young woman! She told us how her
father had been dedicated to her and her blind brother,
Mohamed, 14 years old, also a very confident and
able boy who drives his bike around the village,
having studied the structure of streets in the village
to such an extent as to enable him to dash through
them like any other child.
We
were told that in 1994 the two children had been
diagnosed and there was a possibility of restoring
part of their sight, but such an operation was way
beyond the financial abilities of the poor family.
Since we are in contact with Doctors for Human Rights
we want to check the matter and see if we could
be of help there. Maybe we can turn this terrible
evil into some good and fulfill Sa'al's dream. We
have already contacted a senior eye surgeon at Shiba
hospital, and we shall run the matter on…
We
wanted to help the family and asked A.J. their uncle,
how to donate without embarrassing them. Could we
give him some money and he will hand it to them
later? A.J. thought about it and replied –
he would like us to give it to the family directly.
He wants them to see that not all Israelis are alike.
He wants their children to grow up without hate.
So, could we, please, give it directly to Mohamed,
the blind son who is now acting as the head of the
family?.
On
our way out, we saw the same family, - the two elders
and grandson, in their olive orchard, waving goodbye
and shouting "Allah yebarekum" (God bless
you). An hour later we got an urgent call from A.J.
– the old man had just been arrested and taken
by the army, they were picking too close to the
road, (a road that came into existence hundreds
of years after they had owned this land). We couldn't
help, for we were busy in Hirbet Yanun, trying to
free another olive picker.
The
next morning A.J. called me to try to get help -
there are settlers from Elon Moreh inside the old
couple's orchard. He dares not come close, but he
hears cries from inside the orchard. As much as
I dislike it, I called the army. And as an army
jeep drew near, the settlers calmly left, (no haste,
no one will scold them, no matter what.) As the
settlers left, A.J. saw the results – the little
boy was badly beaten, the sacks ripped, and all
the olives, - a week's hard labor, - were scattered
on the ground around the old couple, who were sitting
in the midst of their orchard, holding their heads
in their hands, crying their hearts out…
A.J.
also told me what had happened to the old man the
day before – he was released at the gates of
the Elon Moreh settlement, some five kilometers
from his orchard, at 10:30 at night. Alone, the
old man walked along the mountains back home, almost
dying of fear, because if the army sees anyone wandering
around those mountains at night they shoot without
warning, thinking him to be a terrorist… At
1:00 in the morning he arrived, shaken and exhausted…
