“Batman, Prayers and Prisons, Part 2”

“Batman, Prayers and Prisons, Part 2”

“Wait,” I asked with a puzzled look.  “There’s been more than 1 time?”

“Naam (Yes, in Arabic)” said the interpreter.

“So… How many times?” I asked.

Azadeem’s Father was counting the number of times he’s been thrown in prison by the Israeli army.  He filled up one hand almost immediately.  Started on the second hand.  Both hands were full.  He spoke Arabic to the interpreter who responded, “He says too many times to count.  He’s lost count.”

Mohammed was such a gentle man- soft spoken with a great bearded smile.  Oddly reminded me of a Russell Crowe in Gladiator (minus the armor and sword), but wore a t-shirt and jeans instead.  How was this man in prison so many times?  What exactly did he do? The questions ran through my head faster than I could write down.

My interview with Azadeem's father, Mohammed

“When was the first time?” I asked.  

“Khamsataash” he said….  15.  

15. Years. Old.  

“For what?”

“Throwing a stone at an Israeli armored car.” He said.  He didn’t know this at the time, but he would spend a year in prison for that offense.  

In Palestine, adolescent arrests are a big issue, as is the justice system for Palestinians.  It’s complex, but here are the spark notes of how the judicial system works in Israel.  If you are arrested for any crime, you are tried by 1 of 2 systems.  The first is similar to the U.S. system- you’re read your rights, given a chance for a lawyer, tried by a jury, etc…  The second system is called “military law” which is a free-for-all system where no rights are given.  You can be arrested for any activity, association or suspicion, thrown in prison without defense, and held for an indefinite amount of time.  Think of Guantanamo Bay.   Guess which system only applies to Palestinians?  You guessed it- Military Law.

Military law knows no age limit, and Israel is currently the only country in the world that automatically prosecutes children in military. Since 2000, at least 8,000 Palestinian children have been arrested and prosecuted in an Israeli military detention system notorious for systematic ill-treatment of Palestinian children. It is estimated that between 500 and 700 children are arrested each year for nonsensical acts (like throwing a stone), or no acts at all.  

The largest detention camp in the world: Kziot prison, Israel

Once you are arrested, you land yourself on a special list of assailants against the state of Israel, even if you weren’t convicted.  These individuals are typically arrested multiple times after that for… well… “security reasons” (the most common answer given to the media).  Mohammed said that most of the times he didn’t even know what he was being arrested for.  He often asked why he was being held in prison.  He never got an answer.

Suspicion, questioning, being associated with someone else who was arrested… These were some of the reasons given to his family about why he was taken into custody.  Azadeem was without a father for a year because of suspicion.  What does that even mean?

At one point Israel wanted to question Mohammed because of his association with some friends who decided to stand up to several homes that were being bulldozed.  He refused and fled.  They looked for him for over 4 months until they found him, put him in prison for a year with no charge, then released him.

I asked if he was worried that his son Azadeem (the grinning boy with the Batman endeavors) would ever get arrested.  His response was stoic.  “I would do absolutely anything to prevent my son from going to jail.  Most of all, I pray.  I pray that Azadeem has a better life than I had.  I pray that Azadeem won’t have to run from soldiers for no reason like I did.  Azadeem doesn’t understand anything about the occupation, but I hope he grows up with the same rights as children in Israel enjoy.“

Azadeem and his father 1 month before they arrested him

As with every interview, I told Mohammed that Americans would read this story.  I asked what he wanted to tell the American people.  Here’s his response:

“I don’t think the people of America really understand what’s going on.  Americans are sensitive, they care about injustice… I know this.  I think the reason why we aren’t getting any help is because they simply don’t know. They don’t know what’s going on.  They need to hear our story, my story.  This occupation damaged our life, stole our land... they take our children from us like they did with me from my mother.  They shot my brother, who is now in a wheelchair.  They shot my 3 brothers, shot me.  Now I walk everyday in pain with my hip.  No one cares.  We need help.  Help us.  Please.”

If you’d like me to forward any messages to Mohammed, please e-mail me or comment below.

“Batman, Prayers and Prison, Part 1”

“Batman, Prayers and Prisons, Part 1”

With his chin resting on his fist, Azadeem thought as hard as an 8-year-old could at the most important question I asked him…  “Batman!” he finally exclaimed in response to my favorite superhero question.   He made his arms into wings (does Batman do that?) as he grinned pretending to be his hero.  “Ah!” he interrupted his own fantasy, “and my dad” he spoke in Arabic.

Azadeem, a.k.a. Batman

I was apprehensive when I interviewed Azadeem.  A bright kid… He likes computer games the few times he got to play them (the racecar ones were his favorite), karate and jump rope.  Those were the easy questions; but how do I ask an 8-year-old about life in a refugee camp under occupation? 

Azadeem grew up in Askar refugee camp with his 3 siblings.  He hasn’t known another home in his life.  I asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up, and he said a carpenter.  “Whys that?”  I responded.  After Azadeem spoke, the interpreter laughed at his response and replied, “He said because that’s what his dad does.”

Askar Refugee Camp

I asked the interpreter what kind of ID Azadeem has, which was Palestinian.  As you remember from the last interview, Palestinian IDs are as good as a monopoly passport in the United States.  That means Azadeem would need special permission to leave, something that isn’t common.  Azadeem is confined to the West Bank.  I asked him if he could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?  I offered the suggestion of Disneyland (a popular 8-year-old dream), but he didn’t know what that was.  Instead, he replied, “Israel.  I want to see the sea.  I’ve never see the sea before.  Maybe Jerusalem too.”

This made me curious.  Did Azadeem know his status within Palestine?  Does he know Palestine’s status in Israel?  I turned to the interpreter, “Can I ask him about the occupation?” I asked.  He turned to Azadeem without responding to me and asked him.  Azadeem shrugged his shoulders.  The interpreter asked again...  Same response. 

Azadeem thinks the refugee camp and living in an area controlled and limited by Israel is a standard life every kid lives.  He doesn’t know that Israel only allows electric and running water certain days a week.  He doesn’t know if he tried to jump the fence to get into Israel he will be shot on the spot.  He also doesn’t know that his family used to live in Lut (a city in Israel), but after 1967 Israel took over that land.  Israeli’s live in his former home.  Azadeem lives in a refugee camp. 

“His dad just got out of an Israeli prison a month ago,” the interpreter said.  “Want me to ask him about it?”  Before I could even think about the magnitude of that sentence, I looked at Azadeem, still half smiling since his Batman adventures.  Living in a refugee camp isn’t fair to an 8-year-old.  Neither is anyone’s parents living in prison.  I grew up in a suburban middle to upper class neighborhood with all the amenities an 8-year-old could have: SEGA Genesis (remember that?), playstation, a trampoline and a racecar bed.  I should be Azadeem, but I’m not.  How did he get the short straw and I hit the jackpot?  Life isn’t fair, especially in Palestine. Nonetheless, Azadeem is happier than most Americans his age.  He lives in a tight knit community- one that is bound by the bonds of their stories.

Askar Camp

“Yes.  Yes I do,” was my response to the interpreter.  Azadeem was asked the question.  My eyes were locked on his, expecting to see his face to change to dismay.  Much to my surprise, Azadeem’s demeanor didn’t change, I’m guessing due to the innocence of being 8. 

“I prayed for him to come home.  I missed hugging my Dad, and I was confused why he was in prison.  Sometimes I was angry, but it’s okay.  I just prayed that I could hug him.” 

Azadeem got his wish 1 month ago when they released his father from an Israeli prison.

Want to know the perspective from his Dad? Or why he was in prison?  Find out in Part 2, where I got the chance to interview him.

"The Occupation Killed Every Dream in Our Minds"

Rafan- "The occupation killed every dream in our minds"

This is Rafan (the Arabic word for "sensitive"), whom I first met at Askar refugee camp in Palestine.  There are 2 Askar camps that are home to 15,000 refugees.  Rafan has lived several places, but has been at Askar for 3 years.  Her smile lit up the bland room when she entered, and unlike most of the youth that are somewhat shy when they see a westerner, Rafan immediately stepped up to shake my hand before I even said hello.  "Issmi Rafan (my name is Rafan)" she said boldly without hesitation.  She's 15, but her demeanor speaks of a well educated mid-20 year old.  Rafan has spunk.

She spoke a little English, and knew some of the questions before the interpreter even started.  In the United States, Rafan would be a popular high schooler (probably prom queen), with all the spoils that American high school has to offer.  Instead of shopping at Forever 21 and watching Vampire Diaries like her American counterparts, Rafan helps out at the refugee summer school camp (and has some fun herself).  

Rafan's story is important because she has a real grasp on the realities of Palestine despite being a teenager.  I knew this after the first question I asked her- What do you want to be when you grow older?  She answered without hesitation, "A journalist..."  she responded.  I was about to ask why, but she continued... "You see, there are so many things that happen here in Palestine, so many stories from the people at the camps that go unnoticed.  No one knows of the atrocities that we endure on a daily basis. The world needs to know these things.  I'd like to be apart of that eye-opening process. I want to tell the world."   

When asked what kind of ID she had, the interpreter said "Palestinian."  Palestinian IDs get you nowhere. I repeat, nowhere.  You cannot cross into Israel, which means you cannot access the only airport out of the country.  Israel surrounds the West Bank, which means the access is cut-off. Unless Rafan gets special permission, she is not allowed to leave the West Bank.  

"Well damn..." I thought to myself as my hand cramped from writing.  My hand couldn't write fast enough and my brain couldn't fully appreciate the eloquence of her speech until a minute afterwards. It felt like a movie...

Old Askar Camp, Palestine

"Where would you like to go to do this?" I asked.  

"I've always wondered what New York was like.  I also dream about Paris.  I want to go to Disneyland as well, but for fun of course" Rafan smiled and said.

She seemed bold, so I countered with a more serious question, "Tell me about what you think of the occupation?  How has Israel's control of Palestine affected the State?"

This was the first time Rafan paused before she answered.  She looked at me, looked at the interpreter, then back at me.  I had a feeling whatever she was about to say was serious.  She spoke directly to me, knowing I don't know Arabic. She knew I could sense her passion.  

"Palestine has so much potential, so much greatness.  The occupation destroyed these things.  It destroyed my people, destroyed my Gaza, destroyed my dreams, destroyed my father (he was wounded in battle by an Israeli bullet), destroyed my hope, and most importantly destroyed my spirit.   The occupation killed every dream in our minds."  

No 15 year old I know can even comprehend war, let alone speak so articulately about it.  Then again, no 15 year old should have to endure war to begin with.  Make no mistake, Israel has imposed war-like conditions on Palestine.  Two days a week of running water, limited electricity, limited economy and most importantly, no access to the outside world.  

Walking along Old Askar Camp, Palestine

I asked Rafan what she thought of Palestine becoming a free country.  "I doubt I'll see this in my lifetime.  The messages of our people are being blocked from the outside world.  No one seems to know about our suffering" she said.  

If you're reading this post, this last question is directly for you.  "Rafan, you should know that Americans will read this interview.  What do you want to say to them?  What do you want them to know?"

She gave a Mona Lisa-esque smirk...  "I want them to know that the world must know about this occupation.  Children live in camps, live in this occupation.  Unfortunately, we cannot do this alone.  We need help, America's help.  Every child deserves rights... rights to live, to travel, to go to school, to live a normal life.  How come our children don't have these rights?  Tell them to stand with the children of Palestine- we're people too.  We have to work together, we can't do this alone."

Any messages you'd like to me to send Rafan I can do in the next 2 weeks.  I told her I would tell her story, and I would send her any comments or questions people had.