Every Monday morning a crowd of women gather in the courtyard
of the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) in Gaza city. Most of the
women arrive carrying a framed photograph of one or two men. When journalists
start to arrive at around 10am, the women ask them to take pictures, and to film
the vigil. “Some of us have been waiting more than six years to visit our sons
in Israeli prisons" says one woman, "and we have all been forbidden to visit the
prisoners in Israel for a year now. So we want our jailed husbands, sons and
daughters to see us in
newspapers and on television. They will then know that we haven’t given up.”
This vigil first started thirteen years ago in 1995, when two
women, Um Jaber (Mother of Jaber) and Um Ibrahim stood together outside the ICRC,
holding photographs of their imprisoned sons. “My four sons have all been in
prison in Israel” says Um Jaber. “I had this idea to hold a vigil with
photographs of the prisoners, to make sure they were not forgotten. It was just
the two of us standing outside the ICRC the first time - but we knew the next
week there would be three or four of us, and then, slowly, more mothers would
come.” Around two hundred and fifty women now attend the vigil every week, and a
contingent of men stand alongside them. It has become a Gaza institution.
The ICRC building is symbolic for the mothers of the
prisoners because since 1967 the International Committee of the Red Cross has
been assisting Palestinians to visit relatives held in Israeli jails. Despite
serious obstructions by the Israeli authorities, the family visits program
continued until June last year, when the Gaza Strip component of the program was
suspended by the Israeli Government. According to Iyad Nasr, head of the ICRC
Media Relations Department in Gaza city, Israel claimed it had no Palestinian
coordination partner to facilitate the program in the wake of the Hamas takeover
of Gaza. “Israel is entitled to take measures to ensure its security” he says,
“but it is not entitled to prevent Palestinians from visiting their relatives in
jail in Israel. At ICRC we are deeply concerned about this situation.” This week
marks a year since the Gaza family visits program was suspended, and the ICRC
has publicly urged the Israeli Government to resume the program immediately,
saying the suspension is “Depriving both detainees and their relatives of an
essential life line.”
Um Jaber’s son was released in 1999, after serving more than
fourteen years in jail in Israel. Um Ibrahim’s son, Ibrahim Mustafa Baroud, who
was 23 years old when he was arrested in 1986, remains in jail and is one of the
longest serving Palestinian prisoners. “Israel has prevented me from seeing my
son for six years” says Um Ibrahim. “I finally got permission to visit him in
jail in Israel last year, and the ICRC escorted me to Erez Crossing. But the
Israelis ordered me to strip down to my underwear, and I refused. So they sent
me back to Gaza.” Um Ibrahim, who is seventy years old, had already been
manually searched, and x-rayed, before she was ordered to strip. “They [the
Israelis] had seen everything, even my bones” she says. “They claimed it was for
security – but I am entitled to protect my dignity and my rights.”
There are approximately 9,500 Palestinians in Israeli jails,
including 950 men and four women from the Gaza Strip. The mothers of
Palestinians imprisoned in Israel have all endured years of humiliating
treatment in order to visit their jailed sons, husbands and daughters. For women
from Gaza, Israel’s ‘security procedures’ have involved them being routinely
searched at Erez Crossing, sometimes by specially trained dogs, being questioned
for long periods, waiting for hours - and sometimes arriving at the prisons only
to be told their husband, son or daughter has been transferred without notice.
Every woman at the ICRC vigil in Gaza has a story. Um Imad,
who is sixty five, has been coming to the vigil for more than twelve years. “My
son, Imad has been in prison for nineteen years, and my brother, Hattim, for
fourteen years” she says, holding up a photo of each man. “We used to visit the
prisoners every two weeks, but now we cannot see them at all, and any
communication is very difficult. We are all being denied our human rights. What
is happening [to us] is a catastrophe.” Um Imad’s words underline the strong
unity between the Gaza mothers: they are demanding their collective rights to
visit their husbands, sons and daughters, as enshrined in international law.
Under Article 49 of the Fourth Geneva Convention, individual
or mass forcible transfers, or deportations of protected persons from occupied
territory to the territory of the Occupying Power are prohibited. Since 1967,
Israel has been forcibly transferring Palestinian prisoners to Israel, and has
consistently obstructed families from visiting their jailed relatives. “If
Israel is either unable or unwilling to fulfil its obligations regarding
Palestinian prisoners, then we at ICRC are obliged to facilitate the process”
says Iyad Nasr. “In this instance, Israel is able, but remains unwilling.”
The Gazan prisoners are jailed in a foreign country and are
already extremely isolated. Their families are now forced to rely on the ICRC
relaying messages back and forth in order to maintain any contact. Before the
family visits program was suspended on June 6 last year, the ICRC was relaying
around ten messages a month from Gaza: now they are relaying more than 300
messages a month. The ICRC has just released a statement, reiterating that
“Whilst we acknowledge Israel’s security concerns, we strongly believe that they
alone cannot justify the al-out suspension of family visits to detainees.”
Fatima Abdullah, whose son, Abdul Halim Abdullah, has been in
jail in Israel for nineteen years, sums up why the mothers of the prisoners
welcome journalists into their midst. “My son saw me once, on television” she
says. “He managed to call me at home, and he said, “Thank you for supporting all
of us – but don’t look so sad mother - I am still alive.””