Tagreed

I am the first grandchild in my family –the eldest. According to what I heard from my mother and my aunt, I was a spoiled granddaughter. I have a vague memory of myself in the first grade, going to school but not attending classes. They sent us back home saying “the war started”. I remember being on my way back home when I saw the Israeli occupation forces in the village. It was probably the first time that I encounter the occupation that close! 

I understood then that I was born two months after the 1967 war, and on my first day of school, the 1973 war started. A few years later, I moved from the primary school of the village to the secondary School of Beit Jala nearby town. I started witnessing the protests and strikes that happen in schools. It was 1982 when I first participated in a protest and strike. We were outside the classes, carrying our school bags, and suddenly, the Israeli forces entered the school. I ran away, just like the other girls, carrying my bag to rejoin the classes. Some of the girls forgot their bags outside, so the Israelis took them and were able to identify some of those who participated in the protest. They called them for interrogation to "Al-Bassa”, which is the Israeli military point and secret intelligence center. 

The days passed and I moved to Bethlehem Girls School, where the same protests and strikes happened. The army broke into the school, as usual, but this time they did not take the girl's bags; they already knew the names. The school gave us warnings and asked every one of us to bring her guardian. I was engaged and my father said to me: "I wouldn't go with you, ask your fiancé to go." My fiancé was understanding and he, himself, was put in this situation before. We went to school and he stood by me and solved the problem with the principal. Thank God, that year has passed. I finally finished school and my parents and I were happy I passed my high school exams and got married.

I thought that my nightmare about the occupation was over when I finished school as there will be no more school invasions. I though I’m starting a new safe life for myself, until we received our first house demolition order. The first demolition order was to Muhyiddin al-Atrash's house, my brother-in-law. And from that moment on, troubles started chasing us. Whoever tried to start constructing a house would receive a demolition order.

I grew up to learn about “The Jerusalem Municipality Area”, the part of the village where I live. It means that this part of the village is annexed to the Jerusalem municipality while I’m a Palestinian citizen. This means that I’m living illegally on my land?! 

I remember, vividly, one day, when four houses were demolished at the same time. I can still hear the bulldozers noise in my ears. I can still smell the tear gas and hear the bullets. I can still see the houses being demolished and the children crying. I still know what that fear feels like. I still remember the guys being shot. I remember it all; the army and their dogs. The battle now is about existence. 

The Israeli occupation forces started surprising us more often with house demolition orders next to the fines that we had to pay. Despite that, people were not afraid and were ready to complete what they started. We have reached a point where Israeli occupation forces knock down a house, then people rebuild it super-fast so the forces lose their minds when they see it. 

They started breaking into our houses at midnight to arrest the men. One night, they arrested all the men in the area during Ramadan and detained them until sunrise. Soon afterward, they started calling them for interrogation at Checkpoint 300. They tried to force them to sign papers stating that they are illegal citizens. Luckily, the villagers refused to sign anything. We went to court to fight for our rights to stay on this land, and the battle continues until today. House demolitions continue as well. We receive new demolition orders every week, next to the ongoing violations and harassment.

Until today, I still feel stressed every time I see a military car in the village. I wouldn’t be able to settle until I know that they left. I know my turn is coming; I am living in anticipation and I spent my days praying the everything will be okay. But every time I see a military jeep or a municipality-owned vehicle, I get full of despair! How will everything be okay while the occupation is still there?!