Ar-Ram, Qalandiya, Sun 17.3.13, Afternoon

Facebook Twitter Whatsapp Email
Roni Hammermann and Tamar Fleishman (reporting); Guests: Damian and Guido from Argentina

Translating: Ruth Fleishman



Despite the cold and despite the anguish of the body and the soul, a cancer patient was forced to move with the remaining of his strength from an occupied territories stretcher to the one that came from Jerusalem, from the occupied territories ambulance to the Jerusalem ambulance, he had to present his belongings before the eyes of armed men who made sure the objects and their owner didn't pose a threat to the state of Israel.

And it is obligatory to remember and recite and make it known, that the weakest ones, these tortured patients of every age and gender, that are permitted by the rules of occupation to be hospitalized only after such procedures, and that millions of human beings had already stood in that very same spot, and that hundreds like them will find themselves in the same situation, in the same ambulance (or another like it) and the same stretcher, before the same armed men and regulations, at any time of the year, at any time of the day under any type of weather.

For they are all suspects and invisible in the eyes of occupation.



Mahmud Jabari who had yet to turn sixteen was hunted down by soldiers on Thursday the 14th of March during a run-in between protesting Palestinian teenagers and military forces.

This was the third time Mahmud had seen the inside of an Israeli prison. According to the testimony of witnesses and from my own familiarity and personal acquaintancewith the lad, Mahmud never throws stones. But they didn't hesitate to arrest him again so as to use him as an "incriminating witness" that would hand names, names of those who did or did not throw stones.  So that they could rely on his coerced testimony, with or without any relevance to the truth, to prosecute, convict and imprison other teenagers. On the following day of his arrest, Mahmud was released. Until next time.


- Our guests Guido and Damian who were making a video for the Jewish community in Argentina about the realities of the occupation were happy to interview Abdullah Tamimi, who recounted before them the story of his longings to his family's village, a place he had been to or seen. 

Abdullah, who had come to terms with the fact that his family will never be able to return to its land and that only dreams of visiting the place where his ancestors are buried, kept repeating over and over again the sentence: "I am not a terrorist".

Being a Palestinian who had his rights as his property confiscated, andbeing of no status, Abdullah knows that in order to survive he must always prove himself to be of clean record and intentions. A kind of certificate of good conduct that in itself holds no guarantee for the future.

About Saris, the native village of Abdullah Tamimi's family:

(Many thanks for Eitan Boronstien for forwarding his link)


-Some cosmetic changes were made on the Palestinian side of the checkpoint building: the outer wall and the tower were painted and cleaned from inscription, and their uniform appearance was restored, in addition the yellow pole that blocked the traffic lane was removed.

People said that in the dead of night soldier armed with brushes came out of the checkpoint and did the job. They were so keen to cover the paintings and inscriptions that they reached the Raise's portrait, they came to close to it that they nearly covered Arafat's face which had become the symbol of the place. An order that was given at the last minute to stop the work was what saved Yasser Arafat's face. 


No cosmetic work could clear the crimes of occupation, and neither could gestures or minor reliefs such as the fixing the drinking fountain, the opening an additional lane, speeding up the crossing procedures or a smile on the face of an armed man.   

Behind all this exists a well operating monstrous and evil machine, one that has to be uprooted and not beautified. 



It seems that the town is vanishing behind stacks of rubbish which are piling up on every street, between traffic lanes and along the separation wall, and their small drifts to great distances.