things that are thrown & other musings: stones & teargas in Aida

I sat on the roof of our new apartment this evening to write birthday postcards to my sister and niece. The weather changed quickly in the past few days from dry, heavy summer to chilly autumn and my meager sweatshirt barely cut it. Sounds of the refugee camp spread out before me, children yelling, hammers banging, the constant drone of a place that is 0.03 square miles large and is home to around5,000 people.

A boy yelled “ya allah” (oh god) and I turned to see three streams of teargas arching over rooftops near the camp’s entrance. A few more booms followed.  Kids watched from the rooftops. A voice cleared on the loudspeaker and began the evening call to prayer. Clouds turned to ash as the sun slipped behind Beit Jala.

The second time we visited Aida was our first time encountering teargas.

On that hot August day I was kneeling on rough cement with a 5 year old girl, helping her take a picture when people suddenly came running, holding cloth to their faces. The air became needles. We rushed inside, the small ones cried and coughed, and our eyes started tearing. When the air cleared Muki and I headed toward the entrance of Aida, invariably hitting clouds of the invisible gas. We still weren’t sure what was going on.  A group of young men with rock slingers and cloths tied around their faces- identity protection- ran past a waiting ambulance, followed by teargas.

We got on a roof with other local and international photographers. Below us dozens of young men threw rocks at about 10 fully armed soldiers a few hundred feet away. The soldiers occasionally rocketed a canister of teargas toward the boys, and a few of the brave ones would plunge into the burning fumes to grab the canister and hurl it back at the soldiers, or generally away from the camp, while the rest ran away until their eyes stopped crying.  We learned these clashes had been sparked by the death of three Palestinians by Israeli soldiers near Ramallah a few days previously.

We moved to Aida last week, grateful to be closer to work and be able to see another, different, Palestinian reality, but a question is growing on our kitchen table: what does it mean to choose to live in a refugee camp? People do not choose to be refugees. The people living here have been doing so for six and a half decades (since 1948) waiting for the time when they will return to their ancestors’ or childhood villages, as is their right under international law. The refugees do not own the houses they have paid to build, or the land on which they live. 

There were clashes the day we moved in, sparked by the intense repression of Palestinians in Hebron that had been sparked by the death of an Israeli soldier.  From what we have gathered, throwing stones is a form of everyday resistance practiced frequently, and is always responded to with teargas, rubber bullets and stunt grenades. It’s so common, in fact, that I haven’t really noticed how often the clashes have happened in the past 10 days living here. But they are especially intense when there is a peak in violence against Palestinians in the area.

A few days later, our friend Ibrahim got a permit to cross the checkpoint into ’48 (as Israel is called here). It was supposed to have been a two-week permit for a time of Christian feasts, but it arrived in the mail the day before it was going to expire.  We went with him to al-Quds (Jerusalem) so he could visit a few friends and we all could have one day in the city together.  Initially we weren’t sure if the Old City would be open, as there have been intense clashes there for a few weeks during which extremist Jews have stormed the al-Aqsa Mosque compound (closed to all non-Muslims except for weekly tourist hours) (it’s the compound that has the Dome of the Rock, but the al-Aqsa mosque is a different building).  Reports have come out about Israeli soldiers firing teargas at Muslim worshipers and that extremists have damaged parts of the mosque.

It turned out that the Old City was open, and as we meandered through the winding cobbled streets I got a call from by boss at PNN. She asked if everything was alright. I was confused, said yes, and realized there must have been something going on in Aida. The next day I learned that the camp clashes had been particularly intense, sparked by the continued violence at al-Aqsa mosque.  

The next day our tap water tasted vaguely, but distinctly, like teargas.

photos & post by Jesse

Lecture by Palestinian Refugee and Activist

“The desire [is that] we want to go back… and we are happy to live under any jurisdiction, Israeli, Palestinian, but the “just solution” for us is that we go back.”



A Palestinian Refugee and activist from Azza Camp in Bethlehem, talks about the history of internally displaced refugees, their aspirations, current activism and issues in the community. The talk was put on by the Alternative Information Center, a joint Palestinian and Israeli anti-Zionist organization based in Beit Sehour. The speaker requested to remain anonymous.

A few quotes from the talk:

“If you want to speak about ‘just resolution’ then you have to see and interact with the people on the ground. The grass root people are the ones who will decide in the end. Not the intellectual, not the elite, not the people who live in luxury in Palestine, but the people who live on the ground. The people who have been used for the past 65 years. The people who [have been marketed by other people], and they are not gaining anything, because millions of dollars were taken on behalf of the Palestinian refugees, and if you go visit any Palestinian refugee, it is almost the same situation.”

“We use nonviolent direct action… and our approach is non-violence as a way of life, so it is not just to say ‘down with the Israeli occupation’ but also we have campaigns to develop the situation within the Palestinian Authority. There is a main factor of violence [used by] the Israeli government. We call it 'structural violence.' This structural violence is very important. Why? because it is invisible. On my way to Bethlehem I will pass the checkpoint… if the soldiers are in a good mood... they will let me stay maybe just 45 seconds. But imagine there are 1000 Palestinians… each one has to wait 50 seconds. The last one will wait two hours. This thing creates stress… You will go to tired to your work, have a stressful day, go back to the checkpoint and have more stress then go to your house. Then you have the domestic violence… For example [the husband] will violate the wife, the wife will violate the children, the big brother will violate the smaller brother, so the last one will find no one and he will break a remote control or something. So this kind of structural violence is important for Palestinians to understand so that they can tackle it. Because if you notice, those checkpoints [usually] do nothing. It’s not out of security, they will not [even] check you. But their presence will give you the feeling, saying the Israeli occupation is here… and you are not even a human being... So we try to raise awareness to understand violence, and to understand the mentality of Israel because they do not do anything spontaneous, everything [is] deliberated. They want us to feel the Israeli occupation [in] every single aspect of our life.”

"If you loose hope, then you are dead and I will tell you one of the theories for the Israeli occupation. They try to equalize life and death in front of the Palestinian eyes. Once life and death [are] equal, then you don’t care if you live anymore… and if you perceive life and death in equal level, this will push people to die and to live the same. So the only way to get out of this trap is to be optimistic. Or, at least, to keep planting hope. To keep reviving yourself… Sometimes people ask, ‘what motivates you as a Palestinian to continue living in this hard situation’? Yes, it is true, sometimes, if I think logically, nothing would recharge my battery to be optimistic but the only thing is just the inner strength that you should have, otherwise you will be dead in your place. So the only option is to be full of hope. And the only option is to embrace your frustration and despair and have it, live with it. Next day try to change it. And be happy. And live your life. It is not enough to survive… No, you have to live. And since we are [not going anywhere] we need to find something to keep us here, to keep us alive. What will keep us alive? Life itself."