A blood soaked flag

Protesters gather in Ramallah's Manara square to remember Mustafa Tamimi, who died today after being shot at close range by an Israeli tear gas canister.

It is cold in Ramallah tonight, and the sun sets quickly. The traffic is heavy in Manara square as night begins to fall. Emerging from one of Ramallah’s busy streets, a sombre procession circles the square’s proud lion statues, stopping the traffic as they go. Around a hundred people walk behind a man holding high a Palestine flag, stained red with blood: the blood of Mustafa Tamimi.

Mustafa Tamimi, 28, died this morning after being shot in the head from close range with a tear gas canister at the weekly protest in the village of Nabi Saleh.

Every Friday, throughout the West Bank, nonviolent demonstrations are held in protest of Israel’s expropriation of Palestinian land for the building of settlements and the wall. And every Friday, Israel’s military forces respond with tear gas and rubber bullets. Protestors are frequently hospitalised for the effects of tear gas, and occasionally some are severely injured.

This Friday, however, was different. According to eyewitnesses, Tamimi was throwing stones at an armoured Israeli jeep when the back door of the jeep opened and a tear gas canister was fired directly into his face, from a range of less than 10 metres. Tamimi died from his wounds this morning in hospital.

Israel’s disproportionate use of force against nonviolent demonstrators is nothing new: I experienced something of it myself at a protest in Bil’in this summer. But to fire a tear gas canister at short range, aimed intentionally at the head of an unarmed protestor, is nothing short of criminal, and is something for which Israel must be held accountable.

At tonight’s small vigil in Ramallah, the mourners chant for an end to occupation. “Hero, martyr,” their banners read. They sing the Palestinian national anthem. "My homeland, my homeland, the youth will not tire till your independence, or they die, or they die," the crowd sings. 

The sun sets on a young man’s life, and another day under Israeli occupation.

Read Linah Alsaafin’s eyewitness account of the shooting here

Settlements and unsettlement: The forced displacement of Palestine's Bedouin

Flowers grow in Jerusalem's municipal rubbish dump, the proposed relocation site for the Bedouin. Bedouin compounds and the settlement of Kfar Adummim can be seen on the hills in the distance.

There is something menacing in the air today above Khan al-Ahmar, one of many Bedouin communities in the hills east of Jerusalem, and it isn’t just the low flying Israeli warplane which is slowly circling. It’s also the lingering threat of the forced displacement of hundreds of Bedouin people, scheduled in January, to clear the ground for the expansion of the illegal Israeli settlement of Ma’ale Adummim.

The small village of Khan al-Ahmar, a tumbledown town of patchwork, corrugated iron shacks, can be seen from the road on the dusty drive from Jerusalem to Jericho. The Bedouin have traditionally relied on their livestock to provide income and food, and families used to sell their cheese and yoghurt in the souqs of Jerusalem.

The city is now largely inaccessible for the Bedouin due to Israel's pervasive movement restrictions, and the extreme poverty means much of the livestock has been sold in order to buy basic necessities. Today only a handful of goats and a solitary camel remain, lying latent in the shade of their makeshift wooden shelters.

Now the Bedouin community has been informed by the Israeli authorities that it has no option but to leave this land or face forcible eviction. 

According to Eid Hamis Swelem Jahalin, a resident of Khan al-Ahmar who was interviewed today for the Guardian, Israel's plan to evict Bedouin tribes and extend settlements in the area is a deliberate attempt to cut off the West Bank from East Jerusalem, thereby making a future Palestinian state impossible.

In the outdoor classroom of the village school, a group of children are energetically engaged in a parachute game, kicking up clouds of dust as they play. The school, which provides education for the children of around 20 Bedouin communities in the area, is also under a demolition order.

The Bedouin have been refugees in these hills since their displacement from the Negev desert after the war of 1948, and are scheduled to be relocated in the coming weeks to a site adjacent to the mizbaleh, Jerusalem’s main municipal landfill site. One day soon, the entire community will be uprooted, despite vocal opposition to the plans.

After spending the morning with the Bedouin reclining on cushions, drinking sweet tea, and listening to tales of their past and fears for the future, I decide to visit the proposed relocation area.

The smell of rotting garbage fills the air before it comes into sight. Soon huge mounds of rubble and waste blight the horizon, and we pull up to investigate further. Picking my way through the broken glass and discarded plastic, I take care not to tread on the small white flowers which are pushing their way up through the dirt.

According to the UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs, the proximity of the proposed relocation site to this mountain of waste poses significant health hazards for the impoverished Bedouin community, and families that have already been moved to the area have reported deteriorating health and living conditions, as well as loss of livelihood and the erosion of traditional lifestyles.

A once flourishing community of animal herders, first made refugees, then reduced to poverty, are now to be uprooted once more and dumped in hazardous conditions as part of Israel's relentless policy of settlement expansion at any cost. Today a school full of laughter and a place to call home, tomorrow, a levelled foundation.

Yes, there is something sinister in the air today; the stench of garbage, the hum of a low flying plane, and the imminent forceful upheaval of a small, powerless and impoverished Bedouin community. Nobody knows which day the soldiers will come, until then, all they can do is wait.

Bad Hair Days and Boycotts: Water Distribution and Settlement Goods in the West Bank

My hair was inexplicable, and I was late for work. Perhaps from the heat, instead of falling sleekly about my shoulders, my hair had formed a huge cloud of untameable frizz. I did what anyone would do in this situation: I decided to take a swift shower.

Turning on the tap, I was met with a trickle, a splutter, and the horrifying realisation that there was no water today, and I would have to face going to work with less-than-perfect hair.

I was in Bethlehem, in the West Bank, and my Bad Hair Day was part of a much bigger problem: the frequent water shortages in Palestinian territory, due to Israeli control of water resources. Whilst the taps frequently run dry for Palestinians, the residents of nearby Israeli settlements enjoy the luxury of lush green lawns, trees, flowerbeds, swimming pools, and long showers, as well as the ability to freely irrigate their land and grow bountiful crops.

According to Emergency Water Sanitation and Hygiene in the Palestinian Territory (EWASH), an international NGO dedicated to monitoring the water situation in the Gaza Strip and West Bank, Israel has the final say over the distribution of all water resources in the West Bank, both above and below ground. Palestinians are given rights to only 20%, with the remaining 80% allocated to Israel.

EWASH also estimates that the average Palestinian consumption of water is 50 litres per person per day, well under the 100 litres a day recommended by the World Health Organisation. Israelis, on the other hand, consume almost four times as much water as Palestinians, highlighting yet another way in which society’s scales are tipped in Israel’s favour. Settlements are deliberately built on fertile land near vital water sources, over which Israel has total control.

As well as inconveniencing the local population, the lack of reliable water access has economic implications for the Palestinians. With a limited water supply comes a limited scope for growing crops. The majority of watermelons available in Palestinian markets, for example, come from Israeli settlements, despite the fact that it is illegal: Palestinian farmers simply don’t have access to the quantities of water necessary to grow them.

Settlement goods are one clear manifestation of the land and water grab in the West Bank. Produce such as dates, avocadoes and oranges are grown illegally using confiscated water and sold to the international market, funding the expansion of Israeli settlements in Palestinian lands.

One obvious response to the illegal and unethical practice of growing goods using stolen land and stolen water is to boycott produce from Israeli settlements. In Britain, supermarkets are now required by law to label goods produced in Israeli settlements in the West Bank to help ethical customers make better choices, and some supermarkets have stopped selling them altogether.

Many organisations call for the boycott of settlement goods, since such goods are universally recognised as being in breach of international and domestic law. The Palestine Solidarity Campaign, for example, aims to better educate the consuming public and encourages petitions to supermarkets, calling on them to stop stocking illegal Israeli goods until the occupation is ended.

A labelling system for settlement goods, similar to the British one, is a wise idea. It would be hugely beneficial if a similar system could be introduced in other countries, including Israel, in order to encourage consumers to buy more responsibly. However, the recent anti-boycott law passed in Israel adds extra difficulty to this campaign. The law, passed by the Knesset last week, makes it a civil offence for any public body in Israel to advocate the boycotting of Israeli goods, whether culturally, politically, or economically.

This new law is a flagrant impingement on freedom of speech and expression, and makes it almost impossible for organisations in Israel to campaign on behalf of Palestinians whose land and water are being confiscated to supply settlements with the resources to grow their produce. The denial of access to water is a blatant injustice, and all should have the right to be able to boycott that which they deem to be unjust.

The anti-boycott bill seems to be born out of the fear that if the boycott movement continues to gather momentum, Israel may be forced to bow to pressure to make policy changes, particularly regarding the illegal settlements in the West Bank.

Now back in Britain, I have the luxury of knowing that if I go to take a shower or turn on a tap there will be a ready flow of water. But access to water should not be a luxury, it is a basic right, and one which is being denied to Palestinians in order to nurture an illegal network of settlements and tighten Israeli control over stolen lands.

Despite the setback of the anti-boycott bill, it is vital that consumers are enabled to make educated decisions. If more can be added to the movement against settlement goods, and if more speak out against the daily injustices against the Palestinians, then Israel may soon find itself in hot water.

This article was first published by Palestine News Network, 17 July 2011.