Qalandiya - the atmosphere grimmer than ever
As I was driving on road 4, headed for Qalandiya, as the radio constantly broadcast patriotic songs and reporters sounding the national erection, without warning the air was sliced with warning sirens and missiles blowing up – which all woke my dormant demons and accelerated my heartbeat.
Cars in front of me and at my sides stopped along the sides and in the middle of the road, and their drivers ran out to prostrate themselves by the roadside.
I continued driving, with the image of the man following whom this bloody round began – the image of Khader Adnan who had fought for his liberty with his endless hunger strikes, a man who was blameless and was not tried with due process but rather imprisoned as an administrative detainee and tortured time and again.
Hunger strikes were his only way to shout against injustice and denial of freedom without any kind of horizon nor choice.
Ever since Khader Adnan was abandoned to his death by the State of Israel, his image haunts me.
I visited him several times at Asaf HaRofe Hospital, where he was hospitalized when his body gave in during his previous hunger strike.
In spite of the prison wardens’ prohibitions and threats by the ward’s chief physician, at times together with my friend Anat Matar and at others alone, I managed to get through his meticulous guards, speak with him and pass messages to and from his family.
Because of these visits I was even arrested, held by the Ramla police and had a file opened against me.
Reaching Qalandiya, I was welcomed by Abu Ahmad calling out, “Netanyahu son of a bitch!”
The atmosphere was grimmer than ever, for here and there it is the same people, the same sentiment, the same solidarity.
I took leave of my adult acquaintances and turned to my child-acquaintances who were gathered around me to receive their own portraits.
With them I was approached by a woman who has been welcoming me happily and warmly for weeks, a woman who at times sells greens for a living, and at other times – as this time – collects empty bottles and cans. She too, like the children, wished to be photographed like the children, and she too will receive her portrait the next time we meet.
