I arrived in Jerusalem on a Friday at dusk, after a much longer trip than usual due to the impossibility of flying directly from Madrid to Tel Aviv. The vast majority of flights had been canceled that week after the Iranian attack with ballistic missiles against Israeli territory – which caused no casualties. Spirits were stirred by the offensive and the proximity of the first anniversary of the Hamas attack on October 7.
The objective of my trip was to cover that notable anniversary, a pretext to take stock of the year that had passed not only since the largest attack in the history of the Jewish State, but also the beginning of the war in Gaza in response to that assault – a war of collective punishment against the Palestinians of the Strip that continues to this day and now totals some 43,000 dead. A somber date for Israelis and Palestinians, although with a very different meaning for each people.
They were tense and difficult days, especially for the relatives of those murdered and kidnapped on October 7 on Israeli soil, as well as for the many Palestinians who have lost relatives, friends and acquaintances in the Gaza massacre. I spoke with the latter in Bethlehem, shortly after crossing the Jordanian border with Israel, in my first interview in the West Bank – a territory isolated from the Strip for many years, but viscerally linked to the coastal enclave by family and historical ties older than the Israeli occupation.
Life in the West Bank is not paralyzed by the genocide in Gaza: Palestinians follow the dramatic news coming from the Strip, mainly through the Al Jazeera television network. In every house I entered, the television was on the Al Jazeera Arabic channel, at any time and under any circumstance; also in cafes, where people gather, chat and try to move on, while the images and sounds of war pass in the background.
I think that Palestinians are so accustomed to death, loss, pain, injustice that they seem to accept this new tragedy that they have had to live through – a new Nakba, as more than one expert has called it. They are a tremendously strong and resilient people. I don’t know if many of us could endure that pain, that humiliation and repression, that constant uncertainty, for generations, in addition to the harsh living conditions in the occupied territories.
On my first day in the West Bank, I spent more than two hours at an Israeli army roadblock outside the city of Jericho (an area under the control of the Palestinian Authority, which does not prevent Israel from blocking all the accesses). I became desperate because of the absurd and unjustified wait – and because I was late for an interview – but the occupants of the other vehicles seemed calmer, resigned: some turned around and changed their plans; Others smoked and chatted to entertain themselves under the still very hot October sun. The date harvest was at its peak and Jericho is one of the producing areas par excellence. Two small children, who came out of nowhere, began to distribute freshly picked dates among those of us who were standing: they did not do it to earn a few shekels, but to sweeten the wait without receiving anything in return.
The next few days as I moved around the occupied territories, I realized that Palestinians cannot make plans or have appointments, because they do not know how much time they will waste at the numerous checkpoints and roadblocks, which have increased considerably. since October 2023 – as reported by the UN. And they don’t know where the next military raid and operation will be, or the next Israeli airstrike, which have also increased in frequency and violence in the last year. The night before I crossed the border, one of the deadliest bombings since the Second Intifada (2000-2005) took place in the northern West Bank: Israel killed 18 Palestinians in an attack on the refugee camp in the town of Tulkarem, who has been hit repeatedly in recent months.
Despite all these circumstances, among the Palestinians in the West Bank and East Jerusalem I did not perceive as much hatred, resentment and hostility as among the Israelis in West Jerusalem and Tel Aviv. I must admit that I am not a neutral observer, no matter how hard I try in my role as a journalist: I speak Arabic and understand the mentality and dynamics of Arabs better after having lived and worked in Egypt for 14 years – during which I also traveled to many countries in the Middle East and I was able to become familiar with their culture, customs and religion. During those trips, I always tried to listen to the opinions of all sides and all victims; of ordinary people who suffer the consequences of what their governments, foreign governments or armies, and other non-state actors do.
Also in Israel, I tried to understand and empathize with the victims of the Hamas attack – more than 1,200 dead and 251 hostages – and with ordinary citizens, who are also victims of manipulation, propaganda and a predominant culture of violence and war. . On the first anniversary of October 7, I sought to remember those events and see how the relatives of the victims and, in general, all Israelis felt a year later.
The relatives of those murdered and kidnapped with whom I spoke still feel a lot of anger and resentment, and seem impassive in the face of the pain of others, the suffering of the Palestinians who, sometimes, are found a few kilometers away, on the other side of the wall of West Bank or Gaza border fence. It is difficult for me to understand that a mother or grandmother who has lost a child or grandchild cannot put themselves in the shoes of other mothers and grandmothers, simply because the others are Palestinian. I find it difficult to believe that a mother who has suffered the loss of a son or daughter, or several, does not sympathize with other mothers or even wish them the same suffering.
On October 7, all of us journalists attended the commemoration event for the Nova festival massacre, a massive electronic music party that was being held near Kibbutz Re’im on the weekend that Hamas chose to launch its assault. coinciding with a Jewish religious holiday. The Nova festival was where the most people died that fateful day and, today, it has become a place of memory.
It was chilling to be in that park with tall eucalyptus trees and think about what had happened a year ago, to imagine all the young people who were there dancing and whose faces are now in the photos that can be seen all over the place on improvised altars, almost always accompanied by the flag of Israel. It was also chilling that morning of October 7, 2024 to hear the shots of Israeli tanks a few kilometers away, attacking Gaza from the other side of the border. A soldier warned us journalists that we would hear explosions, but that we should not worry because they were “ours.”
The noise of the artillery did not seem to bother the families who were there remembering and mourning their loved ones. I wondered what was happening in Gaza, where those projectiles were hitting, how many people were dying at that moment… The sound was unbearable and it was inevitable to think about the Gazans.
I spoke to several people, I tried to be as respectful as possible when asking them what they thought about the massacre that was happening a few kilometers from where we were. After each interview, I conveyed my condolences, but my discomfort increased as the artillery fire continued and I noted the total indifference to the repetitive explosions (except on the part of some colleagues from the international press).
The last person I spoke to was the brother of a boy murdered along with other young people (18 in total) who had hidden in an ambulance on October 7, 2023, at which Hamas assailants threw a grenade. The interviewee had landed in Israel a few hours ago, from New York: he had traveled expressly to attend the tribute of his late brother. I expected a different speech from him: I thought he would not be so immersed in the warlike propaganda of the Israeli Government, but that was not the case. He told me that Gaza was “the most justified war there has ever been” and he said it with total conviction, a conviction that was scary.
A few minutes later, his family and the families of those who died in the ambulance released white heart-shaped balloons to remember them. The cannons of the Israeli tanks continued to fire at Gaza and, from the Strip, the Palestinian militias launched several rockets towards Israeli territory – which were intercepted and caused no damage, as happens in the vast majority of cases. I felt great hopelessness: How long would this conflict continue? How many more people would have to die on each side? How many dead Palestinians could satisfy the Israelis’ thirst for revenge with what I talked about? How many anniversaries of October 7 will there be without there being a reconciliation?
#Journey #despair #diary #week #Palestine #Israel
