Palestinians Go on Strike over Gaza Onslaught

 A picture shows shuttered shops during a general strike in solidarity with Gaza, in the occupied West Bank city of Hebron, on December 11, 2023, amid continuing battles between Israel and the militant group Hamas. (AFP)
A picture shows shuttered shops during a general strike in solidarity with Gaza, in the occupied West Bank city of Hebron, on December 11, 2023, amid continuing battles between Israel and the militant group Hamas. (AFP)
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Palestinians Go on Strike over Gaza Onslaught

 A picture shows shuttered shops during a general strike in solidarity with Gaza, in the occupied West Bank city of Hebron, on December 11, 2023, amid continuing battles between Israel and the militant group Hamas. (AFP)
A picture shows shuttered shops during a general strike in solidarity with Gaza, in the occupied West Bank city of Hebron, on December 11, 2023, amid continuing battles between Israel and the militant group Hamas. (AFP)

Shops, schools and government offices shut across the occupied West Bank and annexed east Jerusalem Monday as Palestinians staged a general strike protesting against Israel's relentless onslaught in the Gaza Strip.

The bloodiest ever war in Gaza has killed more than 18,200 Palestinians in the territory, mostly women and children, and 104 Israeli soldiers, according to the latest reported death tolls.

Activists had called for a strike in solidarity with the besieged territory covering businesses, public workers and education.

Many Palestinians took part and rallies were staged in the West Bank, according to Essam Abu Baker who coordinates Palestinian factions in Ramallah.

He described the protest as part of a global effort to put pressure on Israel to stop the war, reporting strikes taking place in parts of Jordan and Lebanon.

In Lebanon, public institutions, banks, schools and universities closed after the government decided on a nationwide strike in solidarity with Gaza and with border areas in the south, which have seen intensifying exchanges of fire, mainly between Israel and Hezbollah.

The stoppage was also observed in Istanbul's western Esenyurt district, where many businesses are owned by residents from the Palestinian territories, Syria, Yemen and Iran.

Footage on social media showed deserted streets and Palestinian flags billowing.

"The strike today is not only in solidarity with Gaza, but also against the USA which used its veto in the Security Council against a truce," Abu Baker said in Ramallah, referring to the US rejection of a ceasefire resolution on Friday.

Overnight in Gaza, more Israeli air strikes targeted the biggest southern city of Khan Yunis, while deadly fighting and bombing were also reported in the center and north of the narrow territory.

Hamas, which triggered the war with its October 7 attacks in which 1,200 people were killed in southern Israel, warned that the remaining 137 hostages held in Gaza would not survive the conflict unless Israel meets its demands and frees more Palestinian prisoners.

'I have no choice'

At a rally in Ramallah, seat of the Palestinian Authority, demonstrators unfurled a huge list of names of the victims in Gaza.

Whole families came out to protest, with parents carrying children on their shoulders.

"All we can do is take part," an elderly man in the crowd told AFP. "We don't have anything else."

AFP photographers also saw the work stoppage being observed in the northern West Bank city of Nablus and Hebron in the south, where another rally was held.

In east Jerusalem's Old City, many shops were closed. The sound of keys echoed in the bazaar as Palestinian business owners locked their brightly painted doors.

"We want the war to stop," said Nasser, a 65-year-old coffee shop owner who gave only his first name. He has not heard from friends in war-torn Gaza for weeks, and doesn't know if they are dead or alive.

He said he had little to lose by closing his shop along the Via Dolorosa, a Christian pilgrimage route.

"We've had no business anyway since the war started," he said, after the outbreak of violence prompted visitor numbers to plummet.

The few shopkeepers who did open said they had strong reasons for doing so.

Florist Raja Salama, 62, came to work to prepare wreaths of white roses for an elderly relative's funeral.

"I'm only open because the funeral is today," he said.

"When I've taken the flowers over, I'll close."

Others were desperate for business.

"I need to work to feed my baby son," said a young Palestinian barber.

He did not give his name, explaining that he was ashamed to open his shop in the Old City.

"I should respect the strike, but I have no choice. I have a one-year-old at home and I haven't had work since the start of the war. That's the ugly truth."



At Syria Cemetery, People Search for Missing Loved Ones

File photo: People searching for bodies in a trench believed to be a mass grave on the outskirts of Damascus in December (AFP)
File photo: People searching for bodies in a trench believed to be a mass grave on the outskirts of Damascus in December (AFP)
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At Syria Cemetery, People Search for Missing Loved Ones

File photo: People searching for bodies in a trench believed to be a mass grave on the outskirts of Damascus in December (AFP)
File photo: People searching for bodies in a trench believed to be a mass grave on the outskirts of Damascus in December (AFP)

Weeping, Fairuz Shalish grasps the red earth at an unmarked grave in Syria that she believes may hold her son, one of tens of thousands of people who vanished under ousted president Bashar al-Assad.

Thousands poured out of the country's web of prisons in the final days of Assad's rule and after the opposition factions toppled him on December 8.

But as the weeks go by, many families are still desperately searching for news of relatives who were detained or went missing during years of his iron-fisted rule.

Shalish, 59, has not seen her 27-year-old son Mohammed since military security personnel stormed their home near Homs around dawn in early November, just weeks before Assad's ouster.

"I was screaming," she said at the Tal al-Naser cemetery near Homs.

"They shot him in the leg, he fell on the ground and two of them came and opened fire" repeatedly before taking him away, she said, a foul smell lingering in the crisp winter air.

"He has four young children... he has a son who is two," she told AFP.

"I tell him that (his father) will be back tomorrow."

The fate of detainees and others who went missing remains one of the most harrowing legacies of Syria's conflict, which started in 2011 when Assad's forces brutally repressed anti-government protests.

Arbitrary arrests, violence and torture were all part of a paranoid state killing machine that crushed any hint of dissent.

"There were people who accused (Mohammed) of being in contact with revolutionaries in the north," Shalish said.

Her other son, detained at the same time, was later released, but she was told unofficially that Mohammed had died, without receiving any formal notification.

'Need to be certain'

At the sprawling cemetery, pieces of construction blocks serve as makeshift headstones in the dirt where Shalish sits.

At an earlier visit, she learnt that an individual buried there had the same date of death as her son.

But she has been unable to obtain authorization to exhume the body, which was identified only by a code.

"If I have to go to the end of the Earth, I will go. I need to see if it's my son or not," she said.

"I need to be certain, so my heart can be at rest."

Adnan Deeb, known as Abu Sham, who is in charge of burials at the Tal al-Naser cemetery, sorts through ledgers containing the names of people who are interred there, leafing through worn, handwritten pages of records, organized by date.

He said that after the uprising started, authorities began bringing bodies from the military hospital to be buried at the cemetery.

"Some had codes, while others were identified by name," said the towering man in a long black robe, his head wrapped in a traditional keffiyeh.

"Sometimes we'd get 10, sometimes five... They'd bring them in ambulances or in pick-ups or military vehicles," he said, adding that some bore signs of torture.

"It was an atrocious sight. Atrocious. But we had no choice but to do our job," he added.

Still looking

Deeb estimated several thousand former detainees could be buried at the cemetery.

He expressed hope that the military hospital's computer systems would eventually reveal the names of the bodies identified only by codes.

People need to "know where their children are buried", Deeb said.

The International Committee of the Red Cross has said determining the fate of the missing will be a massive task likely to take years.

The Syrian Observatory for Human Rights, a Britain-based war monitor, has said more than 100,000 people have died in detention from torture or dire health conditions across Syria since 2011.

Rafic al-Mohbani, 46, from Homs, has been searching for answers for more than a decade.

His eyes flash with rage as he recounts how his brother Raef and brother-in-law Hassan Hammadi disappeared on their way home from work in June 2013.

"They told us they were at the military security branch in Homs. We went and asked, and they said they transferred them to Damascus. After that, we don't know what happened," he said.

"We paid several sums of money to several people" secretly, he said.

"We got a lawyer, and still couldn't find out anything."

After prisoners began streaming out of Assad's jails last month, "we posted the photos again, we've been looking at cemeteries and hospitals", Mohbani said.

He also visited Tal al-Naser cemetery, with no success.

But the gaunt man, who works as a mechanic, said he still had hope of learning the two men's fate.

"God willing, justice will prevail for us and everyone in Syria."