24 November 2006
The Qalqiliya DCO
The names in the following post have been changed for legal reasons...
On Monday the 6th of November I got up at six, rode to Arlozerov, and caught a train to Kfar Saba. There I met with Hana and Dina, and together we drove to an army base by Qalqilya, a Palestinian town on the Green Line, the pre-1967 border. The base is the Qalqiliya DCO, known in Hebrew as a Matak. It operates now as part of the Israeli army’s administration in the territories. There are a number of Mataks, situated along the Separation Barrier. These centres were intended to ease the situation of the Palestinians. They were established during the period of the Oslo Accords and initially held offices of both the Israeli and Palestinian authorities, who worked in co-ordination. The Palestinian officials left with the outbreak of hostilities at the end off 2000. Now they function as part of the army’s civil administration of the territories under its command, particularly for the granting of work permits for Palestinians wishing to work in Israel.
The Qalqiliya DCO is a remarkable place. It hugs the nine foot concrete wall of the barrier which runs along the northern, western and southern outskirts of the town. There is an entrance on the Palestinian side and another on the Israeli side. We were due to meet a Palestinian farmer called Jibril Mahmood. We arrived and wondered in, unchecked. The wire fence perimeter gave way to a labyrinth of concrete slabs. We walked between them on a path that seemed to wind around itself. We arrived at the entrance to an office where we were challenged by a young soldier. Dina, who was in charge of our group, presented her credentials. Yesh Din has been linked to Jibril Mahmood’s case for two years. The commanding officer arrived and refused us entry. Dina, experienced at these things, explained that she had always been granted entry, and that Mahmood, as Yesh Din’s client, is entitled to representation. We were escorted out. There we waited for Jibril Mahmood to emerge.
We drove with him to a small village not far from the Green Line. There we sat in the entrance of a small hardware store, about half a dozen people. We drank coffee. A bearded man (who spoke the best Hebrew of the group) stood, hands wedged into his puffy olive-green winter coat, bid all farewell, and left. A jovial settler turned up, short, fat, bearded, (like Father Christmas in a scull cap), with big side-curls flowing out and down. Meanwhile we heard Jibril Mahmood’s story and the eyewitness account of his son, Amir, concerning the incident on the Friday the 3rd of this month. The testimony amounted to the following:
Two Palestinians, Ahmed Rashi and Yusef worked together. Ahmed Rashi came from Beit Dia and was a known collaborator with the Israeli authorities. At one point it seems he fraudulently sold Lot 56 in Area 3 to an Israeli company called Mufar. This lot was not his to sell. About ten years ago Ahmed Rashi was murdered and buried in an unknown grave. Six years ago his body was found and exhumed jointly by the Israeli and Palestinians police forces. Yusef, who is notoriously aggressive and violent, was arrested for the crime but subsequently released.
Jibril Mahmood from Mascha was a taxi driver in Israel and the territories for eighteen years, stopping in 2000. He is a tall man with short grey hair and large hands. He owns Lot 62 in Area 3, sandwiched between two settlements, Elkana and Sha’arei Tikvah (meaning “Gates of Hope”).
Two years ago during the olive harvest a large, tall, fat, secular man and his elderly father came to Jibril Mahmood. They said that the land was theirs, and brought police from Ariel,[1] who then confiscated the olives.
A year ago Yesh Din took on Jibril Mahmood’s case, going to the police in Kedumim to verify the property rights.
Since the end of Ramadan Jibril Mahmood’s family have been harvesting their olives. On Friday the 3rd of November a large party of about 25 made their way onto the land. As on each of the previous days they arrive at around 8:15 passing through two gates, the first manned by soldiers, the second by settler guards. Each and every one of the olive-picking party had express written permission to be there, formally stamped by the military administration authority. These were issued in August of ’05 and are due to expire in August of ’07. To gain the formal passes their backgrounds and their ownership of the land ought to have been thoroughly checked.
At around 11am there arrived in a black Subaru car. In it sat the same man who had come two years ago. Now without his father and with white hair he sat in his car and waited. An hour passed. Then the police and the settlers’ guard arrived. The man emerged from his car and produced a document purporting to show ownership of the land. Avi Hai, the guard from Sha’arei Tikvah arrived in his 4x4. He’s known Jibril Mahmood and his family for 25 years and vouched for their ownership of the land. The policeman turned to the tall fat greying man and told him to “take your paper, put it in water and drink it”. But he confiscated the day’s harvest nonetheless, giving them to Avi Hai to store in Elkana. These were 25 bags, a massive amount. I find it difficult to carry one, and I’m not quite as weak as you might imagine, honest. Both sides were told to come on Monday to the DCO.
This all led up to Monday morning where Dina, Hana and I arrived to see that everything proceeds as it ought to and to take the witness statements. Since then I’ve heard of no new developments. If and when I do I’ll post them here.
[1] The large Jewish town in the middle of the northern West Bank aka. Samaria.
The names in the following post have been changed for legal reasons...
On Monday the 6th of November I got up at six, rode to Arlozerov, and caught a train to Kfar Saba. There I met with Hana and Dina, and together we drove to an army base by Qalqilya, a Palestinian town on the Green Line, the pre-1967 border. The base is the Qalqiliya DCO, known in Hebrew as a Matak. It operates now as part of the Israeli army’s administration in the territories. There are a number of Mataks, situated along the Separation Barrier. These centres were intended to ease the situation of the Palestinians. They were established during the period of the Oslo Accords and initially held offices of both the Israeli and Palestinian authorities, who worked in co-ordination. The Palestinian officials left with the outbreak of hostilities at the end off 2000. Now they function as part of the army’s civil administration of the territories under its command, particularly for the granting of work permits for Palestinians wishing to work in Israel.
The Qalqiliya DCO is a remarkable place. It hugs the nine foot concrete wall of the barrier which runs along the northern, western and southern outskirts of the town. There is an entrance on the Palestinian side and another on the Israeli side. We were due to meet a Palestinian farmer called Jibril Mahmood. We arrived and wondered in, unchecked. The wire fence perimeter gave way to a labyrinth of concrete slabs. We walked between them on a path that seemed to wind around itself. We arrived at the entrance to an office where we were challenged by a young soldier. Dina, who was in charge of our group, presented her credentials. Yesh Din has been linked to Jibril Mahmood’s case for two years. The commanding officer arrived and refused us entry. Dina, experienced at these things, explained that she had always been granted entry, and that Mahmood, as Yesh Din’s client, is entitled to representation. We were escorted out. There we waited for Jibril Mahmood to emerge.
We drove with him to a small village not far from the Green Line. There we sat in the entrance of a small hardware store, about half a dozen people. We drank coffee. A bearded man (who spoke the best Hebrew of the group) stood, hands wedged into his puffy olive-green winter coat, bid all farewell, and left. A jovial settler turned up, short, fat, bearded, (like Father Christmas in a scull cap), with big side-curls flowing out and down. Meanwhile we heard Jibril Mahmood’s story and the eyewitness account of his son, Amir, concerning the incident on the Friday the 3rd of this month. The testimony amounted to the following:
Two Palestinians, Ahmed Rashi and Yusef worked together. Ahmed Rashi came from Beit Dia and was a known collaborator with the Israeli authorities. At one point it seems he fraudulently sold Lot 56 in Area 3 to an Israeli company called Mufar. This lot was not his to sell. About ten years ago Ahmed Rashi was murdered and buried in an unknown grave. Six years ago his body was found and exhumed jointly by the Israeli and Palestinians police forces. Yusef, who is notoriously aggressive and violent, was arrested for the crime but subsequently released.
Jibril Mahmood from Mascha was a taxi driver in Israel and the territories for eighteen years, stopping in 2000. He is a tall man with short grey hair and large hands. He owns Lot 62 in Area 3, sandwiched between two settlements, Elkana and Sha’arei Tikvah (meaning “Gates of Hope”).
Two years ago during the olive harvest a large, tall, fat, secular man and his elderly father came to Jibril Mahmood. They said that the land was theirs, and brought police from Ariel,[1] who then confiscated the olives.
A year ago Yesh Din took on Jibril Mahmood’s case, going to the police in Kedumim to verify the property rights.
Since the end of Ramadan Jibril Mahmood’s family have been harvesting their olives. On Friday the 3rd of November a large party of about 25 made their way onto the land. As on each of the previous days they arrive at around 8:15 passing through two gates, the first manned by soldiers, the second by settler guards. Each and every one of the olive-picking party had express written permission to be there, formally stamped by the military administration authority. These were issued in August of ’05 and are due to expire in August of ’07. To gain the formal passes their backgrounds and their ownership of the land ought to have been thoroughly checked.
At around 11am there arrived in a black Subaru car. In it sat the same man who had come two years ago. Now without his father and with white hair he sat in his car and waited. An hour passed. Then the police and the settlers’ guard arrived. The man emerged from his car and produced a document purporting to show ownership of the land. Avi Hai, the guard from Sha’arei Tikvah arrived in his 4x4. He’s known Jibril Mahmood and his family for 25 years and vouched for their ownership of the land. The policeman turned to the tall fat greying man and told him to “take your paper, put it in water and drink it”. But he confiscated the day’s harvest nonetheless, giving them to Avi Hai to store in Elkana. These were 25 bags, a massive amount. I find it difficult to carry one, and I’m not quite as weak as you might imagine, honest. Both sides were told to come on Monday to the DCO.
This all led up to Monday morning where Dina, Hana and I arrived to see that everything proceeds as it ought to and to take the witness statements. Since then I’ve heard of no new developments. If and when I do I’ll post them here.
[1] The large Jewish town in the middle of the northern West Bank aka. Samaria.
