Palestinians from Gaza trapped in the West Bank: ‘I just want to go back, to live with my family or die with my family’

Abed used to spend weekends (Friday and Saturday) with his family in his native Gaza. From Sunday to Thursday, he worked in a candy and cookie factory in Israel. He is one of the 21,000 day laborers from the Strip with a special entry and work permit that — the Israeli authorities thought at the time — solved two problems at once. It was a supply of cheap labor and it dissuaded Hamas from seeking an escalation of violence, because the attacks would always result in the closure of the border crossing, and too many families depended on those jobs, which do not exist in the Strip.

Last Saturday, however, he and nine other Gazan workers were still in their modest apartment in the city of Holon, near Tel Aviv, waiting to be paid in cash when the Sukkot holiday ended. They woke up to the news that Hamas and Islamic Jihad had launched an unprecedented attack from Gaza (which ended up being the deadliest day in Israel since 1948, with 1,400 dead and more than 100 people taken hostage) and the certainty that they would never again be looked at the same way.

“We stayed at home. We were afraid to go out in case someone attacked us. We received [fake] news that a Jewish employer had killed an employee and cut him into pieces,” explains the 28-year-old Gazan at the IBSA sports center in the West Bank city of Ramallah. The facility is full of hastily gathered mattresses to accommodate hundreds of people like him who cannot return to their place of residence or stay at their place of work.

They called a taxi to go to the West Bank and sent the driver the location via WhatsApp. “He told us: ‘I’ll be there in 15 minutes.’ Ten minutes later, a large group of police broke down the door, made us lie on the ground, and handcuffed and arrested us. I don’t know how many there were because I couldn’t lift my head off the ground. A police officer insulted me and said that if I did, he would put a bullet between my eyes. They stepped on our heads as they passed by. Then, in the van, they hit me,” he says, showing his injuries while the rest of the group nod.

Abed says that, after being detained for 12 hours, the police left them in a field in the West Bank, without returning their identity documents or cell phones. They walked until they came across another Palestinian, and explained the situation and he gave them a lift. He shows a brand new phone. They bought it between the 10 of them, he says, so that they can find out how their families are doing in Gaza. The Strip has been bombed and had its electricity, food, and fuel supplies cut off since Monday by order of the Israeli Minister of Defense, Yoav Gallant. The occasional loss of signal complicates the task and makes the men nervous.

The sports center has become the improvised main reception point. Around 600 people slept there this Thursday, with no more bathrooms than those in a sports facility and no food first thing in the morning other than hummus, pita bread and bottles of mineral water. There are lots of different mattresses and blankets because, for the most part, ordinary people brought them in response to an appeal that circulated on social media, explains Nasir Abu Mariam, from the Palestinian youth NGO Sharek. “There was a rumor that that was where they were going. We expected to find a few dozen. When we arrived, we were surprised by how many there were,” he adds.

Many report that employers owe them money and have stopped answering their phones. “He owes me 3,000 shekels (€720). “I called him, he didn’t pick up and now his phone always seems to be off,” says Al Qandil, 46, who says he has 36 shekels in his pocket and a debt of 1,200 for the taxi ride to the West Bank. All those interviewed talk about excessive payments to taxi drivers to take them to the West Bank. On the Saturday of the mass attack, any other means of transportation took too long or was too dangerous.

“My heart is aching”

“The first thing we thought about was returning to our families, but our employer told us that we were prohibited from going to work or leaving home,” explains Taha Mokan. After three days of waiting and confusion, they took two taxis from northern Israel directly to Kalandia, one of the military checkpoints between Jerusalem and Ramallah. Omar Mayed Malat is part of that group and thinks only about being with his wife and four children. “My heart is aching to see what is happening in Gaza. I just want to go back there, to live with my family or die with my family. I don’t feel like eating or sleeping here. Every time the phone rings I think it’s bad news,” he says.

In the entire West Bank there were 3,200 Gazans with work permits in Israel this Thursday. And the other approximately 18,000? “We have no idea. We don’t know if they have been arrested, are still free, or in Gaza,” Hamdan Barghuti, deputy governor of Ramallah, confessed at the venue, while a bus brought another 50 Gazan workers carrying large grocery bags with letters in Hebrew. “The majority don’t have money. The priority now is to distribute them among the different governorates and give them food and drink,” he said.

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