Losing Sight of the Future: Palestinians Blinded in One Eye

TT

Losing Sight of the Future: Palestinians Blinded in One Eye

When Jacqueline Shahada was blinded in one eye during a Palestinian demonstration along the Gaza border, she never thought she would lose her husband and children too.

It was November 2018 and like every Friday for more than six months, thousands of Palestinians gathered along the Gaza-Israel border demanding the right to return to lands their ancestors fled in 1948 with the creation of Israel.

Protesters burned tires and threw stones and Molotov cocktails at Israeli soldiers on the other side of the heavily-guarded border, who responded by opening fire.

Amid the thousands of onlookers was Jacqueline, a slight, veiled woman in her early 30s. Even though the protests were male-dominated, she told herself women also had a right to participate.

"Suddenly, I felt something burning in my eye and I lost consciousness," she said. She had been hit by a rubber bullet, and despite medical attention, doctors couldn't save her left eye.

Her injury is hardly visible now -- just a slight glossiness from a tear in the iris -- but her life in Hamas-controlled Gaza was destroyed.

"I wish I had been killed, it would have been easier," she told AFP.

Her experience has become all too common, and AFP met with 10 Palestinians who lost an eye after being shot by the Israeli army, in Gaza, Jerusalem or the West Bank.

Some were taking part in clashes, others were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. All were left scarred and with their lives wrecked, even though in Palestinian society being wounded while standing up to Israeli occupation is often lionized.

Along the border of the Gaza Strip, the Israeli army uses snipers who, according to instructions, open fire only when the soldiers are at risk from intensifying violence from Palestinian rioters.

Asked about Jacqueline's case as well as the use of live fire, the Israeli army highlighted the "security challenge" they faced.

It said "it took every possible measure to reduce the number of injuries among Gaza residents participating in these violent riots".

"There is smoke from burning tires, gas, and moving crowds. Snipers are at a distance, it's difficult," said a senior Israeli military official.

- 'Broken inside' -

Jacqueline, who studied maths, found herself stigmatized. Her children were teased at school about their disabled mother and her husband grew colder and angry.

"Society and people blame me, they say: 'Why (as a woman) did you go to the protest?'"

"I expected my family and husband would be proud of me, but I paid a high price," she told AFP in Gaza. "My husband divorced me and I lost my kids."

"If I lost an arm it would be OK, but without an eye, how can you continue with your life?

"I want to challenge the whole world, to remain strong, but inside I am broken," she said.

In the Gaza Strip, the cramped territory of two million people controlled by the militant group Hamas and under Israeli blockade, residents have grown accustomed to traumatic wounds after three wars with Israel in 2008, 2012 and 2014.

But even when there is no full-blown conflict, violence erupts. More than 8,000 Palestinians were hit by Israeli fire during the often violent "March of Return" protests which began in March 2018, according to UN figures.

Of those injuries, 80 percent were to the lower body, with only around 3 percent to the head.

In Jerusalem, despite there being no full-scale conflict, tensions remain in neighborhoods like Shuafat and Issawiya, parts of the predominantly Palestinian eastern part of the city Israel captured in 1967.

There residents complain of increasing violence from the Israeli police, which says it is responding to growing unrest by the population.

In recent years police, there have used spongy synthetic rubber bullets, deemed in theory to be less lethal. But when fired at close range, they have been known to cause deaths.

- 'I want my eye back' -

In February, Malek Issa, a nine-year-old boxing enthusiast, was hit by a rubber-tipped bullet after buying a sandwich at a shop in Issawiya.

He was on his way home from school and his older sister, Tala, immediately rang their father, Wael, to say Malek had been shot in the forehead.

"I immediately thought 'no, he must have been shot in the eye'," Wael said. "I stayed there, paralyzed for a few minutes."

Malek was rushed to hospital where his parents found him, head gaping and his left eye hollowed out.

"My son is polite, clever and got good grades at school. But this soldier came and shot him. He didn't shoot just my son, he shot the whole family," said Wael.

Malek, who now has a glass eye, sprawled disinterestedly on a sofa next to his father.

"This is not the Malek that we knew, he changed a lot," added Wael, who works in a restaurant in Tel Aviv. "At night Malek cries out 'I want my eye, I want my eye back.'"

"I tried to explain to him this is the will of God," he said, although the family struggles to understand why Malek was shot when there were no protests going on.

Contacted by AFP, the Israeli justice ministry said it had opened an "internal investigation" into the case.

- 'Eye of Truth'-

For years freelance cameraman Muath Amarneh covered numerous protests in the occupied West Bank.

On November 15 last year, he grabbed his video camera and, wearing his helmet and a vest inscribed with the word 'Press', rushed to a Palestinian demonstration in the southern village of Surif.

"There was a sniper on the ground readying his weapon, saying something to the officer I didn't understand, but they were laughing," he said.

"I felt that something was going to happen to one of us. The soldiers were provoking us journalists.

"Then I felt something hit my face, I thought my head had been knocked off," he said.

"I saw there was blood on my face. I fell to my knees."

Witnesses said he was hit by a rubber bullet which had metal inside. And scans show some metal remains inside the excavated eye cavity, which now holds a glass eye.

Israeli authorities say they did not target the journalist, but Muath is convinced his injury is a metaphor for a conflict others don't want to see.

"My injury sends a message that our lives depend on the pictures we take. 'Either you will work as we like or you might die'."

The injury sparked protests, with Palestinian and Arab journalists filming themselves with a eyepatch using the slogan "eye of truth".

Months later, Muath, who is in his 30s, hasn't returned to work, still suffers from mysterious migraines and feels his "life is finished."

"As a cameraman it is impossible to work with one eye. You need one eye on the camera lens and one outside," he said.



Long Silenced by Fear, Syrians Now Speak about Rampant Torture under Assad

People walk through a corridor of Syria's infamous Saydnaya military prison, just north of Damascus, Syria, on Dec. 9, 2024. (AP)
People walk through a corridor of Syria's infamous Saydnaya military prison, just north of Damascus, Syria, on Dec. 9, 2024. (AP)
TT

Long Silenced by Fear, Syrians Now Speak about Rampant Torture under Assad

People walk through a corridor of Syria's infamous Saydnaya military prison, just north of Damascus, Syria, on Dec. 9, 2024. (AP)
People walk through a corridor of Syria's infamous Saydnaya military prison, just north of Damascus, Syria, on Dec. 9, 2024. (AP)

Handcuffed and squatting on the floor, Abdullah Zahra saw smoke rising from his cellmate’s flesh as his torturers gave him electric shocks.

Then it was Zahra’s turn. They hanged the 20-year-old university student from his wrists and electrocuted and beat him for two hours. They made his father watch and taunted him about his son’s torment.

That was 2012, and the entire security apparatus of Syria’s then-President Bashar Assad was deployed to crush the protests against his rule.

With Assad’s fall a month ago, the machinery of death that he ran is starting to come out into the open.

It was systematic and well-organized, growing to more than 100 detention facilities into which tens of thousands disappeared over more than a decade. Torture, sexual violence and mass executions were rampant, according to rights groups and former prisoners.

A blanket of fear kept Syrians silent about their experiences or lost loved ones. But now, everyone is talking. After the insurgents who swept Assad out of power on Dec. 8 opened prisons and detention facilities, crowds swarmed in, searching for answers, bodies of loved ones, and ways to heal.

The Associated Press visited seven of these facilities in Damascus and spoke to nine former detainees. Some details of the accounts by those who spoke to the AP could not be independently confirmed, but they matched past reports by former detainees to human rights groups.

Days after Assad’s fall, Zahra — now 33 — came to visit Branch 215, a detention facility run by military intelligence in Damascus where he was held for two months.

There, he said, he was kept in a windowless underground cell, 4-by-4-meters (yards) and crammed with 100 other inmates. When ventilators were cut off -- either intentionally or because of a power failure -- some suffocated. Men went mad; torture wounds festered. When a cellmate died, they stowed his body next to the cell’s toilet until jailers collected corpses, Zahra said.

“Death was the least bad thing,” he said. “We reached a place where death was easier than staying here for one minute.”

A member of the security forces for the new interim Syrian government stands next to prison cells at the Palestine Branch, a detention facility operated by the General Intelligence Agency during Bashar al-Assad's regime, in Damascus, Syria, on Dec. 14, 2024. (AP)

Assad’s system of repression grew as civil war raged

After he and his father were released, Zahra fled to opposition-held areas. Within a few months, security agents returned and dragged off 13 of his male relatives, including a younger brother and, again, his father.

All were killed. Zahra later recognized their bodies among photos leaked by a defector showing thousands killed in detention. Their bodies were never recovered.

Rights groups estimate at least 150,000 people went missing since anti-government protests began in 2011, most vanishing into detention facilities. Many were killed, either in mass executions or from torture and prison conditions. The exact number remains unknown.

Even before the uprising, Assad had ruled with an iron fist. But as protests turned into a civil war that would last 14 years, Assad expanded his system of repression. New detention facilities run by military, security and intelligence agencies sprung up in security compounds, military airports and under buildings.

At Branch 215, Zahra hoped to find some sign of his lost relatives. But there was nothing. At home, his aunt, Rajaa Zahra, looked at the leaked pictures of her killed children for the first time – something she had long refused to do. She lost four of her six sons in Assad’s crackdowns. Her brother, she said, lost two of his three sons.

“They were hoping to finish off all the young men of the country.”

A site believed to be a mass grave for detainees killed under Bashar al-Assad's rule is visible in Najha, south of Damascus, Syria, on Dec. 17, 2024. (AP)

Syrians were tortured with ‘the tire’ and ‘magic carpet’

The tortures had names. One was called the “magic carpet,” where a detainee was strapped to a hinged wooden plank that bends in half, folding his head to his feet, which were then beaten.

Abdul-Karim Hajeko said he endured this five times. His torturers stomped on his back during interrogations at the Criminal Security branch, and his vertebrae are still broken.

“My screams would go to heaven. Once a doctor came down from the fourth floor (to the ground floor) because of my screams,” he said.

He was also put in “the tire.” His legs were bent inside a car tire as interrogators beat his back and feet. Afterward, they ordered him to kiss the tire and thank it for teaching him “how to behave.”

Many prisoners said the tire was inflicted for rule violations -- like making noise, raising one’s head in front of guards, or praying – or for no reason at all.

Saleh Turki Yahia said a cellmate died nearly every day during the seven months in 2012 he was held at the Palestine Branch, a detention facility run by the General Intelligence Agency. He said he was given electric shocks, hanged from his wrists, beaten on his feet. He lost half his body weight and nearly tore his own skin scratching from scabies.

“They broke us,” he said, breaking into tears as he visited the Palestine Branch. “A whole generation is destroyed.”

Documents are scattered around Branch 215, a detention facility run by Bashar al-Assad's regime, in Damascus, Syria, on Dec. 17, 2024. (AP)

The mounting evidence will be used in trials

Now comes the monumental task of accounting for the missing and compiling evidence that could one day be used to prosecute Assad’s officials, whether by Syrian or international courts.

Hundreds of thousands of documents remain scattered throughout detention facilities. Some seen by the AP included transcripts of phone conversations; intelligence files on activists; and a list of hundreds of prisoners killed in detention. At least 15 mass graves have been identified around Damascus and elsewhere around the country.

A UN body known as the International Impartial and Independent Mechanism has offered to help the new interim administration in collecting, organizing and analyzing all the material. Since 2011, it has been compiling evidence and supporting investigations in over 200 criminal cases against figures in Assad’s government.

Many want answers now.

Officials cannot just declare that the missing are presumed dead, said Wafaa Mustafa, a Syrian journalist, whose father was detained and killed 12 years ago.

“No one gets to tell the families what happened without evidence, without search, without work.”