NOVANEWS
by deLiberation
A film with the released Palestinian prisoners (25 min.) produced by chris den hond and mireille court, January 2012.
At the end of 2011, 1028 Palestinian prisoners were released in exchange for the Israeli soldier Gilad Shalit. Prisoners like Salah Hamouri were allowed to go home, but more than 200 of these prisoners were deported to Gaza or to neighbouring countries, which is a violation of the 4th Geneva Convention.
Some of the prisoners have spent 19, 24, 26 years or more in prison. They are unknown to the world, unlike the Israeli solidier. We wanted to give a face and a story to Amr, Obeid, Mohamed, Wafa, Bassim, Hamza, Louay, Samir, Ata et Tawfik.
Published on Jul 5, 2012
Free in the Prison of Gaza (English Version)
Free in the prison of Gaza (ARABIC VERSION)
7 Responses to Free in the Prison of Gaza
Nothing short of FULL Right of Return is acceptable.
1. there is no god 2. if there was a god he/she would not be a real estate agent.
For sure the US GIVING the ApartheidGenocidal Zionist regime $8 million dollars a day has to stop. We cannot go on with their Free no strings attached Military build up with US Tax payer money to suppress and subjugate to ethnically cleanse to the max all of Palestine.
i have to watch it again ~ i can only take it in doses ~ i’m quite sure i would not have survived one day in those prisons. I was glad to hear that the prisoners educated themselves preparing each other to be educators.
It felt like courage beyond my comprehension.
Free in the prison of Gaza at 18:14 mins;
“The PCHR (Palestinian Centre for Human Rights) has calculated that since 1967, 700,000 Palestinians have spent time in israeli prisons, one of every two adults.”
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Locked up in Israeli-Occupied Palestine
By Kelly Bornshlegel
“It has been over 5 years since I was imprisoned in an Israeli immigration prison, but my memories of the time remain vivid. I was held for a month then deported to New York, leaving my partner and friends behind in Palestine. I was arrested participating in a demonstration against the apartheid wall in Bil’in, a small village in Palestine. Residents of Bil’in have been resisting the building of a wall that would steal their land and turn their village into a virtual prison. At the time of my arrest I was filming two Israeli soldiers brutally beating a Palestinian boy. Six soldiers tackled me and dragged me up a muddy hill to an army jeep. I was taken to an abandoned school where I was stripped searched twice in front of groups of soldiers.
The friends I made in prison, migrants from Eastern Europe, Southeast Asia and northern Africa are untraceable. Most of them came to Israel looking for work—the Israeli economy relies on this cheap and precarious labor. Israel has a ‘revolving door’ policy that limits migrant’s stays in Israel to 63 months, constantly bringing in new workers to ensure that people don’t settle. Israel also prohibits the marriage of migrant workers to Israelis and deports women if they give birth in Israel.
Many gave the authorities fake names and refused to say where they were from in hopes they could delay being sent back, even if it meant remaining incarcerated. Some wanted to return but remained waiting for their families back home to raise money for their fl ight. Many had partners and families inside Israel they were leaving behind. Many were mourning the loss of their families in addition to their imprisonment.
This differs from Israeli prisons for Palestinian prisoners, which are mainly tents in the desert. Palestinians are systematically tortured and given multiple life sentences, or are held indefinitely under administrative detention. Many Palestinian women are held in regular Israeli jail where they have reported assault, discrimination and rape.
The first prison I was taken to was near a big city. Friends were able to smuggle in food, cigarettes, and books. On the second day I was given a deportation order that I refused to sign, and was taken before a judge who spoke to me in Hebrew, a language I could not understand. During the fi rst week I was moved 3 times and interrogated without a lawyer countless more. I repeatedly asked about my charges, demanded my rights, access to a lawyer and a phone call. Each time I was met with a blank stare. The final move brought me to a prison far out in the desert, the conditions starkly worse than the previous one. There the guards seemed to work with complete impunity, the geographical isolation giving them a sense of freedom from scrutiny. Every mundane detail of our lives was controlled by the all-male guards.
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The other incarcerated women were from all over the world including Nigeria, Uganda, Latvia, Russia and Vietnam. Many of the women were extremely vulnerable: they didn’t speak Hebrew, were far from their homes and hadn’t been able to contact families or lawyers. The prison administration turned a blind eye to widespread abuse.
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The kindness and strength of the women I met in the prison system stunned and strengthened me. In a situation of dehumanization— where we were called ‘Mongolia’, ‘China’ or ‘USA’ instead of our names, where food and cigarettes could be traded for sex, where we were transferred if the guards noticed any friendships forming—each woman went out of her way to help the others cope and survive. The injustices I experienced and observed and the strength and resilience of these women were the catalysts that began my activism against the prison industrial complex.”