Finding strength and struggling for basic rights.

1. How do we get our strength?
By Mansour

I was sitting with an old man the other afternoon that has 40 dunam of
land, half of which he will lose to the construction of the Separation
Wall. His name is Abu Ali. He is 68 years old. Ten months ago Israeli
bulldozers uprooted olive trees on part of his land.

I was sitting with him and translating for a journalist writing for
The Jerusalem Post. He was telling his story of his sons and
daughters, the olive trees, how he brought them up day by day, how he
raised the trees since they were little children and how they have
become a part of his identity.

Abu Ali told this story smiling. I didn't understand why... Maybe
because he had always known that this would be the results of the
Occupation...Maybe because he knew of the resilience of the olive
trees in Palestine. Like the trees, we will remain on our lands
despite Israeli government's attempts to uproot us from our land and
deny us our national and human rights...

After the interview with the journalist was over, Abu Ali turned to me
and asked where I was from and who my parents are. After I answered
him he said to me, "Now I will tell you why I'm smiling when I should
cry. It is because of you, the new generation, which makes me proud -
continuing the struggle in a different way. I am sure you are a farmer
and translated exactly what I said for the journalist." He thanked me
and we left the land together to his house where he invited me to
drink tea with him.

I saw him again yesterday and I told him about the experience of other
villages that succeeded to push the Wall away from their lands and he
said, "Now you know why I was smiling before months - because you will
be able to do what we couldn't." He left me from there and went to the
mosque...

Meeting Abu Ali has helped me realize one of the strengths of the
Palestinian people, how our parents and the generations before them
support their children. It is only with this support and strength that
we can accept the responsibility and trust to ensure that we will
continue what they started.


Mansour is a nonviolent organizer and activist from Biddu.

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2. Lives on Hold - The right of birth and the right of return
By Aaron Lakoff

On my last day in Palestine, just before leaving, I went back to visit
one of my favorite spots in Jerusalem. Located in the Western Wall
plaza, there is this place you can stand where the shining gold of the
Dome of the Rock arches ever so slightly over the holy wall. Seeing
the two religious sites juxtaposed against each other is breathtaking.
It's a visual symbol of how close two societies in conflict are to
each other, yet it's depressing because they're so far apart.

It was my last day in the country after coming to Israel on a
Birthright trip, a free 10-day trip to Israel given to anyone who is
young and Jewish. I had come for the ten days and stayed for two
months to work in Palestine. I figured that seeing Israel without
seeing Palestine would be selling myself short – it wouldn't really be
cashing in on my birthright. This right came easily to me – I simply
registered and was on the trip. However, such rights don't come so
easily to others.

Take the Ayoub family in Montreal for example. They just won a huge
battle for their rights, and unfortunately for them, it wasn't as easy
as walking into an office, claiming their ethnicity, and signing some
papers.

The Ayoubs (Therese, Nabih and Khalil) are all Palestinians in their
60s. They came to Canada as refugees from the Ein El Hilweh camp of
Lebanon, but before that, they had lived in a village just south of
Haifa, in what we now call Israel. The Ayoubs, like 750,000 other
Palestinians, were victims of the "Nakbah" of 1948 – ethnically
cleansed to pave the way for a Jewish state.

As if being evicted from their homes and then forced to live in
sub-standard conditions in Lebanon wasn't bad enough, the Ayoubs came
to Canada in 2001 hoping to seek asylum, and were promptly rejected.
In our post 9-11 climate of fear against the enemy (whoever and
wherever they may be), our state couldn't be bothered by a few Arabs
showing up at our doorstep, desperate to find some safety.

So, in early 2004 when the three were served a deportation order, they
chose to take sanctuary in the basement of a Montreal church rather
than to be sent back to a life of misery and statelessness in Lebanon.

For 13 months they lived like prisoners, trapped in a basement and
unable to leave for fear of being nabbed by the Canadian Immigration
authorities. I visited the Ayoubs in their church in Montreal's Notre
Dame de Grace district last summer. The most foretelling thing about
these elderly Palestinians was written on their faces – a worn out,
depressed, and tired look. Certainly what you would expect to see on
the faces of prisoners. It was a look that I can now compare to
having seen on other people's faces in Palestine. It's the look of
being pissed off, exhausted from fighting, but accepting of the fact
that you're just going to have to continue to fight anyway.

However, on February 27, everything changed for the Ayoubs. They were
finally granted permanent residency status by the government, and are
now legally allowed to remain in Canada. This is a tremendous victory
for them, something they fought long and hard for. There will be a
short victory dance, the Ayoubs will take their first breath of fresh
air in over a year, and many a back will be patted. Unfortunately
though, more than 100 other Palestinian refugees in Montreal are still
facing deportation orders, the struggle is far from over. I am happy
for the Ayoubs, and as I left Palestine, their experience became an
emotional one for me. I have a birthright to come to a place I really
feel no attachment to, while the Ayoubs and millions like them have no
right of return to their homelands. It's a privilege that disgusts me
to the core.

The plight of Palestinians was one little story that wasn't mentioned
during our Birthright tour. We never heard the stories of places like
Deir Yasin, Al Qubaybah, or other Arab villages which were obliterated
underneath Israel's creation. At one point during the tour, we were
out in the countryside when a tour guide pointed out a patch of cacti,
and noted that those were a sign that an Arab village used to be here.
Nobody raised an eyebrow, and the group moved on, made to believe
that these Arabs must have just packed up peacefully and said goodbye
to their new neighbors.

To restore a bit of the sanity lost during this tour, I needed to see
some of the camps myself, to see how Palestinian refugees were living
today in the West Bank.

One of these visits brought me to the Al Fawar refugee camp, located
just south of Hebron. We turned off Fawar's main street, went up
another narrow, alley-like street, and found our way into the home of
Taleb Shawabka. I had never met Taleb before, but I was interested in
visiting him because his son, Rafat, is now living in Montreal and has
claimed refugee status. The visit was difficult for the Shawabka
family. They welcomed me warmly into their home, which really wasn't
their home at all.

While many Palestinian refugees are humble folks, they have
interesting stories to tell. Rafat's parents were born in the Fawar
camp, but before that, his grandparents had lived in the village of
Beit Jibreen, now renamed to Beit Guvrin in Hebrew, just inside
Israel's side of the Green Line. In 1948, when they were forced to
leave their homes and lives, the Shawabka family came to Fawar and
pitched a tent alongside many others. From 1948 until 1958, Fawar was
nothing but rows of tents. Each tent provided meager shelter for a
family whose hopes of one day returning to their houses were quickly
fading. Refugee camps aren't supposed to be permanent. They are
nobody's home. But after a decade of existence, the residents of
Fawar weren't going anywhere in the young Jewish state, so the tents
came down and permanent buildings went up.

7,500 people now live in Fawar, which, like any other refugee camp, is
overcrowded and lacks proper infrastructure. There is one main road,
two mosques, plenty of unemployment, and a lot of frustration. Baby
blue signs mark the services that the UN administers, including the
school, the women's center, and the health clinic.

Now that Fawar is established itself as a community, there is at least
some sense of `life as normal', but for refugees here, life is more
accurately described as a waiting process. Everything is put on hold.

Going back to Rafat, things were looking good for this 30-year old
before he left for Canada. He was planning to marry, raise a family,
and build a home for himself just above his parents' home. In fact,
he even started to do this, but then came the outbreak of the Al-Aqsa
Intifada, and a whole new clampdown on Palestinian life.

Rafat, along with many of his family members, could no longer find
work, as Palestinians were barred from entering Israel. Their economy
became more and more strangulated. As a young, Palestinian male who
had been beaten and arrested many times before by the Israeli army,
Rafat began to fear for his life. He fled to Canada, leaving his home
and family behind. His house now sits unfinished atop the Shawabka
home. There's nothing that can be done with it, so Rafat's parents
use it as a place to hang their laundry to dry.

Taleb took us upstairs to see Rafat's unfinished home. It was a sad
sight. Idle building materials and tools were lying quietly on the
floor. On the upside, it did provide a wonderful view of the rest of
the camp.

Rafat has three other brothers and six sisters. One of his brothers,
Mohammed, is now married and living in Finland. Another brother,
Islam, lives in Ramallah. Abed, the youngest, is still living in
Fawar, although he too expressed interests in coming to Canada to
study. He's currently studying in Ramallah, but with the six hour
trip it takes him to get to his college, combined with the endless
harassment at checkpoints along the way, you can't blame him for
wanting to leave as well.

I asked Taleb how he felt about his children leaving Fawar to go to
other countries. He explained that he'd like for his children to stay
in Palestine, but the situation and the economy is so bad that he
doesn't expect them to. Imposed conditions will eventually split this
family apart.

There isn't much to look forward to when your life is on hold. These
people's faces could be turning blue from holding their breath for so
long. Even during periods of peace negotiations, there is little
optimism – only gasping for air.

Taleb hasn't really bet the farm on the recent talks between Ariel
Sharon and Mahmoud Abbas. Asked if he feels if Abbas could negotiate
a right of return for the Palestinian refugees, he replies, "maybe in
1000 years!" in a cynical manner.

Back in Montreal, the Ayoubs have been offered a small slice of peace
this week. On the other hand, I have the option to make Aliyah, move
to Israel, and enjoy all the peace I want on the shores of Eilat or
Tel Aviv. But what lacked during the Oslo Accords is also lacking from
the peace talks at the moment, and that is justice for the Palestinian
refugees. It's hard to imagine a peace without this.

I had the privilege of standing in that wonderful spot in Jerusalem to
gaze at the Western Wall and the Dome of the Rock. Any Jew in the
world can take advantage of this too. It may be a peaceful view, but
until all Palestinians, including the Shawabkas and the Ayoubs, can
move freely throughout their lands and return to their homes, the Dome
of the Rock is but a symbol immortalized in photos and postcards.

(Aaron Lakoff is a member of the International Solidarity Movement,
and a journalist with CKUT community radio in Montreal. He has been
traveling and working throughout Palestine and has recently returned
home. To view his previous writing and photos, visit
http://aaron.resist.ca. He can be reached at aaroninpalesine [at] hotmail.com)

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3. Demand the Return of Gaza Students to Birzeit University

In November 2004, four Birzeit University students from Gaza were
forcibly removed from their studies in the West Bank and illegally
deported to the Gaza Strip by the Israeli occupation Army. No charges
were made against them, but they have been prevented from returning to
Birzeit University to continue their studies. All four students were
due to graduate by the end of this academic year.

The Right to Education Campaign at Birzeit University launched an
international appeal for the deported students, and hundreds of
prominent academics, concerned individuals, trade unions and human
rights organizations around the world responded. The Israeli Army
Legal Advisor received a stream of faxes and letters, demanding that
the students be allowed to return to their studies.

As a result of this international pressure, the Israeli Army stated
that the students might be permitted to come back to Birzeit
University, but only if they signed a guarantee to permanently return
to the Gaza Strip upon completion of their studies. This latest
condition exposes the real motive behind the forced expulsion of Gaza
students from the West Bank: to impose a final separation between the
West Bank and the Gaza Strip.

The West Bank and Gaza Strip are internationally recognized as one
integral territory. Under international law everyone has the right to
freely choose their place of residence within a single territory. As
such, all Palestinians from Gaza have the right to live, work and
study in the West Bank and vice versa. This has been actively
undermined by the illegal permit system and closure policy imposed by
the Israeli occupation since 1991, preventing thousands of Gaza
students from studying at West Bank universities.

Since 2000, Israel has made it virtually impossible for Gaza students
to study at the eight Palestinian universities in the West Bank. In
1999 there were some 350 Gaza students studying at Birzeit University,
today there are only 35. The four deported students - Bashar Abu
Shahala, Walid Muhanna, Bashar Abu Salim and Mohammad Matar - are
among the last Gaza students still studying in the West Bank.

The Gaza students' issue is part of the wider Israeli policy to
obstruct and attack education in Palestine. Students in the West Bank
are prevented from reaching their universities by frequent closures of
cities, hundreds of military roadblocks and the construction of the
illegal Wall. As a result, the number of new Birzeit students coming
from Jenin in the northern West Bank declined by 100% in 2004. In the
same year, over 1,500 Gaza students were prevented from traveling to
their universities abroad.

Birzeit University urgently calls on all supporters, human rights
organizations, and government representatives around the world to:

-Demand the immediate and unconditional return of the four deported
Gaza students to Birzeit University
-Demand the right of Palestinian students to study at any university
in the West Bank and Gaza Strip in accordance with international law
-Demand the right of all Palestinian students to freely pursue their
education in accordance with the right to freedom of movement and the
fundamental human right to education

Please sign the online petition at
http://www.petitiononline.com/right2ed/petition.html and write to:

Col. Yaer Lutstein
Legal Advisor
Bet El Civil Administration
West Bank
Fax number: +972 2 997 7326

Mr. Shaul Mofaz
Israeli Minister of Defense
Email sar [at] mod.gov.il
Fax number: +972 3 697 6990

Please also copy your letters to the Right to Education Campaign at
Birzeit University. Email: right2edu [at] birzeit.edu
Fax:+972 2 298 2059

Further Action
To continue supporting Palestinian students' rights, and to find out
how to affiliate to the Right to Education Campaign at Birzeit
University please visit http://right2edu.birzeit.edu/news/article5.
You can also subscribe to the bi-monthly Right to Education Bulletin
by emailing right2edu [at] birzeit.edu with SUBSCRIBE in the subject line.

Related Links:
Gaza Students Appeal 29/11/04
http://right2edu.birzeit.edu/news/article238
Gaza Students Update 18/12/04
http://right2edu.birzeit.edu/news/article246
Amira Hass, Haaretz, 17/2/05
http://right2edu.birzeit.edu/news/article262

END