It was the day of my graduation ceremony. Muhammad wanted to surprise me by coming from Hebron. But no, he couldn’t make it. The Israeli army arrested him at a military checkpoint and sentenced him to prison for 16 months. What was his offence — wanting to attend his fiancé’s graduation ceremony?
However, this was neither the end of it nor the beginning.
Before the 2000 Intifada, I used to see cruel scenes of Palestinian youth and children being killed by the Israeli army only on TV. But this time, it was our turn. They invaded the West Bank. And for the first time in my life, a tank passed near me while I was playing with my friends in the neighbourhood. An Israeli military checkpoint was placed near my family’s house, and to this day, we watch soldiers forcing vehicles to stop for long hours and preventing them from exiting the city of Ramallah to the northern West Bank. This is our daily reality.
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At the entrance of our town, they had placed red signs with the words, “To Israeli citizens, you are forbidden from entering this area because that will expose you to danger.” Are we monsters? Are we killing, setting up barriers, arresting, and confiscating land?
I remember there was a beautiful hill in front of our house on the opposite side of the town. Year after year, Israeli bulldozers began to level it and turn it into a settlement. It is now forbidden for us to even approach it; if we do, we will be killed.
But even in occupation, love finds its own way. I fell in love with my journalism colleague Muhammad al-Qeeq in 2006 and announced our engagement. Our journey, nevertheless, was not meant to be easy. In 2008, we were preparing for our marriage. So, we bought everything, including the wedding dress, a house, and furniture for it. And then, just before a month of our wedding, he was arrested.
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Even after the struggle, we dreamt of building our lives. In 2009, we got married and had our children. Whereas I continued to work as a journalist, Muhammad became a political analyst. But a peaceful journey was perhaps the last thing that we could expect. In 2015, Israeli soldiers stormed into our house and arrested him after blowing up the door. They didn’t even let us say ‘‘goodbye’’ to him. Islam, my son was just three years old at that time, and my daughter, Lour, was one.
A few days later, Muhammad began a hunger strike while he was in the interrogation centre. He was subjected to psychological and physical torture. His strike continued for 94 days. He lost two-thirds of his weight and returned to us like a skeleton! However, life goes on, perhaps in the hope for a better world.
(As told to Abhik Bhattacharya)
