Reham Afahna sits on a mattress on the ground of her living room in
the Tel el Zaatar area of Jabaliya Refugee Camp. A child is screaming next door
and a constant banging noise disrupts her as she tells PCHR about her son Taha,
29, who was arrested in October 2001. “That noise is the landlord removing
the metal stairs that leads to our house. We have not been able to pay the rent
and he is trying to kick us out,” she explains.

“Five of my children are disabled; they have physical
disabilities and speech impediments,” the mother of ten says. “Taha,
who was 19 when he was arrested, was always very kindhearted with his siblings.
He helped them and washed them, he was always helpful around the house. One
year before his arrest, he left school and looked for work in order to support
the family. He suffered because of the conditions at home and because he saw
how difficult things were for his siblings. On 15 October 2001, he
tried to stab a soldier at Beit Hanoun (Erez) checkpoint [at the border between
the Gaza Strip and Israel]. He was not politically affiliated. He was sentenced
to ten years of imprisonment.

“During the investigation, no one was allowed to visit Taha
for six or seven months,” his mother recalls. “Then I was allowed to
visit him, but only me alone, his father was prohibited. I visited him every 15
days, but sometimes I was denied access via Beit Hanoun (Erez). One time they
denied me access for three months. It is a very difficult feeling, I lost my
son who used to help me. Imagine you are in my place, imagine someone helps you
and then they are gone.”

Ms. Afahna describes the procedures she had to undergo when trying
to see her son: “I used to leave my home at 4 in the morning and return
home between 8:30 and 10 at night. We spent two to three hours inside Beit
Hanoun (Erez) crossing, where we had to step into a machine and raise our
hands. At the prison, we had to wait another two to three hours before being
allowed to enter. The first group entered at 3 in the afternoon. We underwent a
search before entering the prison. If a woman was suspected, she was forced to
take off all of her clothes. They did not allow me to bring any food for my
son, but every three to four months they allowed me to bring some clothes. But
then they would take away his old clothes when I brought new ones.”

“I couldn’t touch him there was always a glass barrier and we
spoke through a telephone. And, of course, the Israeli soldiers were present. I
was only allowed to see him for 30 minutes. This was in Beer Sheva prison, one
of several prisons Taha was held in. Now he is in Nafha prison but I have not
visited him there because of the suspension of the visitation programme. Even
before that, his father and siblings were denied visitation, we were not given
any reasons.”

The last letter the family received from Taha arrived eight months
ago. “We write to him, but we are not sure whether the letters arrive or
not. When I saw him, Taha used to say he was fine, but when he was sick they
would only give him paracetamol, for any illness. We receive 1000 Shekel per
month from the Ministry of Prisoners, we send the money to Taha. Because he is
unmarried, he only gets 1000 Shekels.”

The family’s home was demolished in 2006, so for the past several
years they have rented a flat. Ms. Afahna says: “Now we are facing
eviction from this rented flat because we have been unable to pay her rent and
utility bill. There are no houses in all of Jabaliya. I have five disabled
children, I don’t know where to go – someone needs to help us.”