What is life like for Palestinians living under Israeli occupation ?
Thank you for the question. As a Palestinian living there, I will give you a brief summary of my life story.
I was born before the second intifada in Palestine, and witnessed the second intifada as a child and its horrors. I went to school on a daily basis from my house to Ramallah, and every day was an adventure. By adventure, I mean it was a dangerous ride every day. At first, my mother used to take me, and we had to wait at I$räĕli checkpoints for long hours with other Palestinians gathered like cattle. I$räĕli s0ldiers would go on to open my bag as much as I opened it throughout my elementary years, and I am really not exaggerating. I used to arrive late to classes most of the time. On other days, they wouldn’t allow us to pass and would shout at us in a very derogatory manner to back off, the checkpoint is closed. My mother and many other Palestinians who had errands in the city would start arguing with the s0ldiers, and try to explain the situation. That would usually end in shooting tear gas or s0ldiers assaulting Palestinians. So mom would end up looking for alternate routes to the city to get me to school, and another adventure would begin. We would have to walk through mountains or take public transport that would take us through very long and bumpy roads, and if we got lucky, there would be no checkpoints there and we could reach Ramallah. Keep in mind that if they want to close all the roads, they can. It was a clear policy to make Palestinian life miserable, so eventually we would leave our homeland. These adventures were filled with action, filled with tear gas, chases, bullets, sound grenades, people running, road blocks, a lot of humiliating searches, taking clothes off, and passing through metal detectors. You won’t believe it. I remember when I was in 3rd grade, a s0ldier stopped the public yellow Ford we were in and put his gun right on the driver’s head, very close to me, my mother hugged me.
Another time, s0ldiers stopped the vehicle and started beating the hell out of the driver with their rifles because we were taking a mountain route, since the major roads were blocked by them. Of course, we would have to exit the car and walk for hours on our own. Many times, the road would be closed to cars, forcing you to walk for hours in the heat of the sun in the summer or rain in the winter, resulting in numerous blisters on my feet as a child. From first to eighth grade, most of the time I would arrive to school late and return home 2-3 hours late, and that was on good days. Many days, we would reach home at 7–11 p.m. at night during the second intifada. Many times I would do my homework, study for tests, and sleep on the way back home. On other days, we would sleep at friends' homes in Ramallah. I tried my best, thanks to my family. They helped me a lot during that period.
During the 2nd grade, my teenager cousin was going back home from school along the same path he usually goes through and was sh0t in the head by an I$räĕli sn!pĕr at the entrance of our area. He posed no threat, didn’t even throw a single stone. He was murdered on the spot. This sparked an outrage in my area. He was a very peaceful and good boy. Nine Palestinians, mostly children, followed the same path as him in that period. I$räĕli vehicles would enter our area, close it all down, and establish curfews. They would tear gas the whole neighborhood. Any Palestinian found walking would be arrested and get the crap beaten out of him or her. They tried to bring out the worst in people and still do. My father was a healthcare provider, and his work place was very near our house. As a health care provider, many injuries came to him, and he would try his best to save people. I$räĕli forces sometimes wouldn’t allow ambulances to reach him or those injured to reach the hospitals. They would be arrested on the spot, pulled out of ambulances, or, at best, left bleeding to death. Of course, since our place of residence was a hotspot for treating injured people, mostly children, during clashes with the I$räĕli forces, we would get a lot of visits from them. They would tear gas my father’s work place and our home. During night raids, they would wake us up from sleep for "security reasons" and "search" the whole place, almost always creating a mess after they left. Night raids still happen. I will get back to that later.
Everyone would panic during times of increased violence. When two I$räĕli s0ldiers were killed in Ramallah in retaliation for dozens of Palestinians killed in recent weeks, my mother came and picked me up from school very quickly. I remember that day pretty well. I remember the fear and panic in Palestinian eyes that day. The road closures, and the hours it took us to reach home I remember being sh0t at in the public transport car that day. I was frightened. I hated school, and I hated life. I had many nightmares. I remember having a nightmare about Ariel Sharon chasing me with a gun. I hated Palestine. Even once, I said (my mom keeps remembering it and laughing): "I hope an earthquake comes that takes out all the Palestinians and I$räĕlis, and we will rest from this hell of a life." I used to fake being sick so I wouldn't go to school and witness the daily shitty routine. Mom would sometimes feel sorry for me and would take a day off from work to cook me my favorite food as a child: milk-rice, and of course to teach me classes I missed on that day. I loved when I stayed at home.
During the 4th grade, an event changed my whole life. A checkpoint was closed, as were all the other major roads. My mom and the Palestinians who were told to return from where they came from (Ironic) decided to take another route to go to work, school, Unis, etc. People had mouths to feed. Now, as an adult, I understand why they were persistent. We walked through a mountain near a checkpoint. I$räĕli forces spotted us and started shouting at us. We started running, and they started running after us. Sh0ts rained down. I heard a man shouting in agony after being shot. We kept running for our lives and reached an old red car that picked me up and my mom. I was crying and too scared. It all happened too fast. I was absent from school for two weeks after that. After this incident, something really changed in me. I hated the occupation so much, and everything about it. Fear suddenly vanished.
We would get night raids, and I wouldn’t flinch. In the 7th grade, we were woken up in the middle of the night by the s0ldiers. Mom told me to not be scared. I responded immediately: I fear no one but God. In the 7th grade, I usually went to school on my own. One day, we had a school trip. I had spiky hair and wore an AND1 band around my head (street basketball was the shit back then). A s0ldier stopped the public transport car and grabbed me out for a search. After I was stripped of my clothes and searched, he grabbed me by the neck, and started threatening me in Hebrew. I told him I don’t speak Hebrew, only English or Arabi. Then he suddenly started speaking Arabic and said: "If you throw stones, I will kill you and your family." (P.S. I have never thrown a single stone in my life.) I told him I wasn't afraid of you. He started beating me. I tried to resist and cover myself, then other s0ldiers joined in and started kicking me and hitting me with their rifles while I was on the ground. The more you try to cover yourself and resist, the harder they hit. Palestinians got out of the car to protect me, and this old woman took me, and the car went off. They all tried to comfort me. That day, I told the driver to take me back home while sobbing. I never went on that trip. I stayed home for a while and told my parents that I fell. They knew I was lying.
As you can see, Palestinian children learn to hate the occupation from the actions of I$räĕli forces. They don’t teach us at school to hate Israelis; that’s a bullshit argument. The whole security reason argument used to justify the occupation actually exacerbates the security concern itself; it doesn’t nullify it. This gave birth to more Palestinian resistance fighters, but my pathway of resistance is different. Anyway, during my teenage years, the situation didn’t differ that much; I just got used to it. Here in Palestine, as you grow up, you get conditioned to this. Home night raids never stopped, and of course, in most instances, they said they were searching; they didn't usually look for anything, and it was clear that it was just a policy to establish presence and harass Palestinian civilians. Four years ago, I asked a couple of s0ldiers why they were in my house in the middle of the night: Do you guys think this contributes to the peace process? I said, they avoided eye contact and looked at each other. They were apparently confused and had no idea what they were doing…. Or perhaps they knew what they were doing was wrong, and "guilt" kicked in.
During the 10th grade, I wanted to know why they were doing this to us from their point of view (I had already read, witnessed, and lived the Palestinian narrative), so I started reading about zi0nism, from Herzl’s diaries to the Jewish state, Benny Morris, Shabtai Teveth, Simha Flapan, Avi Shlaim, Tom Segev, Ilan Pappe, etc. You name it. I finished about 35 books from the I$räĕli and zi0nist perspectives by the end of my first year of university. I got a lot of insights as well.
I almost forgot to mention that we are separated from some of our family members and friends because of the apartheid wall. We cannot visit each other. Not to mention that much of my father's land has been confiscated by the I$räĕli government, and regarding the scraps left of it, we are prohibited from building on it until this very day. According to my father and Palestinians in general, our homeland is our identity; it is everything. I have so much more to say—many stories, experiences, and thoughts—and much, much more.
Anyway, thanks to my family's encouragement, I kept pursuing an education regardless of all the hardships. Now, I finished my medical studies and currently trying to figure out the next steps in a place with a difficult and complicated dynamics than anywhere else in the world.
That’s pretty much it.
From Palestine with peace, freedom and love ❤️