SamidounPalestinianPrisonerSolidarityNetwork

www.samidoun.net+samidoun@samidoun.net

31 May 2016
Dear Mr. Jacques DeMaio, Head of ICRC Delegation to Israel and the Occupied Territories;
Samidoun Palestinian Prisoner Solidarity Network writes today to express our strong concern and opposition
to the decision of the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) in Israel and the Occupied
Palestinian Territories to curtail family visits to once monthly detention center visits rather than twice
monthly, and to urge the ICRC to immediately revoke this damaging decision.
Palestinian prisoners are separated from their families by multiple facets of Israeli imprisonment. In clear
violation of Article 76 of the Fourth Geneva Convention, which provides that "persons accused of offences
shall be detained in the occupied country, and if convicted they shall serve their sentences therein,"
Palestinian prisoners are imprisoned inside the territory of the occupying power. Thus, rather than prisoners
being directly accessible to family members, Palestinian prisoners' family members must seek special
permits in order to be able to visit their imprisoned family member.
As the ICRC is well-aware, these visit permits take several months to be approved and are frequently denied
on specious grounds of "security." It should also be noted that prisoners themselves are punished for hunger
strikes, jail protests, or through collective punishment applied to entire sections, prisons, or political factions,
by the denial of family visits. Thus, Israel directly denies family visits both by prohibiting prisoners from
receiving visits and by denying visit permits to family members.
The visit process itself is a draining, lengthy process, especially for the elderly parents of prisoners, or
prisoners' wives or husbands with young children. Sumoud Sa'adat describes her visit to her father, from the
very early bus trip, multiple checkpoints and security checks, and requirements to wait for the entire bus of
families to complete their visits. [full account attached]
"As we entered the closed yard, the policeman was making sure everyone had entered so he can close
the door behind us. In the yard were uncomfortable metal seats and only two fans in this unbelievable
heat. The toilets were so filthy to the point that you rather not use them or end up using them with
difficulty if its absolutely necessary. Inside the yard were two windows; one for smoking and the
other one was the window through which the families hand-over the clothes and books to prisoners. I
really wish I could have destroyed that window because of the humiliation one faces at it."
Even family members who have received permits can be denied visits when they arrive at the prison; Sa'adat
notes that her mother and brother were so denied. The experience of a family visit is critical for families and
for prisoners; but it is also an arduous and deeply physically and psychologically taxing experience.
The ICRC notes that it is taking this step first because of budget cuts, and second, because of "efficiency,"
noting that families do not always take advantage of the opportunity for the second visit. From the denial of
permits, to the multiple checkpoints and searches, to the dirty and uncomfortable waiting areas, to the sudden
denial of visits, to the prohibition of goods, to the long wait times, Israel engages in systematic practices

designed to discourage Palestinian family visits. By denying Palestinian families their second monthly visit,
the ICRC is participating in the Israeli policy of undermining, minimizing and denying family visits.
Furthermore, it situates the alleged lack of participation in second monthly visits as a lack of efficiency on
the part of Palestinians, rather than exhaustion or inability to participate in a second visit due to the physical
and psychological hardship imposed by the Israel Prison Service.
The International Committee of the Red Cross should be working to bring an end to the Israeli obstructions
of family visits, and the Israeli violations of the Geneva Conventions, beginning with the location of
imprisonment for the vast majority of Palestinian prisoners, rather than placing the weight of budget cuts on
those most vulnerable and least able to bear it - Palestinian prisoners and their families. While we note that
this decision does not apply to family visits for imprisoned Palestinian women and children, we note that
Palestinian children also have a right to ongoing access to their imprisoned parents.
The ICRC has a responsibility to facilitate, as noted in Article 116 of the Fourth Geneva Convention,
"visitors, especially near relatives, at regular intervals and as frequently as possible." The ICRC's decision
directly undermines the intention of the Fourth Geneva Convention; due to the permit system imposed by the
Israeli military occupation, and the imprisonment of Palestinians inside the Israeli state, Palestinian families
have no other means of securing family visits. The ICRC family visit program is their only option - and this
decision removes 50% of Palestinian families' access to this essential lifeline.
ICRC budget cuts cannot come on the back of marginalized and vulnerable people. Furthermore, these cuts
in service directly play a role in implementing Israeli violations of international law, lowering the frequency
of Palestinian prisoners' family visits, and responding to the arduous conditions of Palestinian prisoner
family visits by making such visits more difficult and less accessible rather than pressuring the Israeli Prison
Service to end the policies that make family visits difficult, unattainable, and traumatic.
Samidoun Palestinian Prisoner Solidarity Network urges the ICRC to not only immediately reverse this
decision and resume the full schedule of twice-monthly family visits, but to exercise its responsibility to
protect people living under occupation - the Palestinian people - from the violations of their rights practiced
on a regular basis by the Israeli military, security services, and the Israel Prison Service, rather than
remaining silent on administrative detention, denials of family visits, solitary confinement, and torture under
interrogation for over 7,000 Palestinian prisoners.
Sincerely,
Charlotte Kates
International Coordinator
Samidoun Palestinian Prisoner Solidarity Network
cc: Mr. Christian Cardon de Lichtbuer, Mr. Jesus Serrano Redondo; Ms. Nadia Dibsy; Mr. Mamadou Sow;
Ms. Suhair Zakkout; Mr Sebastian Carliez

9 Years Later: My Journey to see my Father; 45 Minutes, a Window and a Telephone by Sumoud
Saadat
http://samidoun.net/2015/08/9-years-later-my-journey-to-see-my-father-45-minutes-a-window-and-atelephone-by-sumoud-saadat/
For us Palestinians, life has a different meaning and taste. While people around the world go on journeys
to embrace nature, hike its mountains, or dive in its seas, we, the families of Palestinian political
prisoners, go on journeys of our own to completely different places.
We journey to the Israeli occupations prisons where our loved ones are held in captivity. Although
these prisons were forcibly imposed on us Palestinians, yet we go there with joy and excitement in our
hearts while trying to ignore the harsh and bitter reality that lies within the prison walls. The night
before the visit, many are unable to sleep the night, as was my case. Others cannot sleep deeply and
instead spend the night tossing and turning in their beds trying to relax their anxious bodies in the hopes
of being in their best shape for the visit.
Preparations Before the Visit
Our day started at four oclock in the morning. First, we thoroughly packed the things my dad asked for
so we wouldnt forget anything. Then we prepared some food, coffee and cold water given the hot
weather in the place we were heading to.
My mother, my brother(Ghassan) and myself left the house at 6:00 am, and headed towards the buses,
which were located in front of Isaad Al-toufeleh Park in Al-Bireh, Ramallah. Upon arrival, all the
prisoners families gazed at us as we were getting off the car. When we approached them they met us
with smiles and morning greetings. I heard someone saying: this is the family of Ahmad Saadat. They
are visiting with us! Some approached us with warm greetings and said: finally! They are allowing
you to visit!
The interaction between us and the other families started instantly and went smoothly without any
barriers. After all we knew most of them. Some, used to deliver clothing and books to my father whom
we were banned from visiting while visiting their sons and loved ones. To some we were relatives, and
others I knew though my work in Addameer Prisoner Support and Human Rights Association.
There, I met my seventh grade Arabic school teacher. But today she came as the mother of the prisoner
Mohammed Wahbeh who was sentenced to five years in Israeli prisons. In such moments, you can only
see hopeful faces full of energy, smiles, laughter and joy. At some point you realize all of us that bus
stop shared the same pain, the same purpose; visiting our loved ones in Nafha Prison.
Beit Seira Checkpoint: The Fear of Being Returned

The bus moved at 6:50am. Since it was my first visit, the families were explaining what the next stop
was. Beit Seira checkpoint was our next stop. At this checkpoint you wait with the fear of not being
allowed to pass through. We arrived at Beit Seira check point at 7:30 am, we got off the bus and we
walked around 50 meters until we reached an open yard sheltered with metal plates. In that yard there
was but one filthy toilet which the families are forced to use because of the long journey. In that yard an
employee from the International Committee of the Red Cross would hand the families tickets which
allow the visit. We got our tickets and headed to the inspection point.
At the inspection point,you come across a revolving metal gate (gate number one). This gate is referred
to as Al-Maatah, a gate usually used for animals especially chicken. Then, you have to empty your
pockets, and if you are a woman, you put your hand bag on the inspection machine. At this gate, you
present your identity card and wait for a while before being allowed to proceed to the next gate (gate
number two).Gate number two is the gate which the families hate and despise. At this gate,there is a
window and behind it two armed- Israeli female soldiers to whom you hand-over your identity card, the
visit permit and the Red Cross ticket. When I presented my visit permit, identity card and ticket, one of
the soldiers asked me to wait after she read my name. I noticed that she handed all my documents to the
other soldier who was sitting behind her on a computer. I had to wait for a while during which two
families passed the checkpoint as I watched the soldier one sitting at the computer. She kept staring at
me which made me wonder what sort of information was she reading on her computer.
Shortly after, she returned my documents to the soldier at the window who then gave them back tome.
Without a doubt, my mother went through the same procedure. Unlike me, my mother holds a Jerusalem
ID, that allows her to pass checkpoints without needing a permit. Nevertheless she decided to share this
experience with me.
Eventually we passed through the checkpoint and waited on the other side for the rest of the families to
gather. In total we were 72 visitors on that bus. On the bus one of the families explained that their child,
who was 15 years old was banned from passing the checkpoint and visiting his brother. The soldiers
claimed that he was 16 years old and thus needed a permit. His mother however insisted his 16th
birthday was in four months and he didnt need a permit. To our sorrow,however, the soldiers did not
allow him to pass and continue his journey.
The bus moved again at 9:20 am. My heartbeat started to pace. I was asking myself, how will the
meeting be? Will I cry? Will I laugh? Will I, by some miracle, be able to get a hug from my father? How
will my dad react? Last time he saw me I was 20. Today I was 29 years old. Will he even recognize
me?! What about his features? Has he grown old? Will I find in his reassuring eyes the comfort they
always gave? Is he calm? Will I see that smile which grants me strength and hope?

I decided to escape all this anxiety by sitting next to the driver and asking him about the places around
us and the weather in an attempt to kill some time but also because it has been a very long time that I
was in south of occupied Palestine. When I was young, we used to visit my father in Al-Naqab prison,
and now I was reminiscing memories long forgotten. We passed by the junction which leads to the
Israeli Naqab prison. We also passed by the Israeli Eshel prison which I heard so much about.We also
passed by stunning desert mountains of such a beauty that I never saw before.
Two hours later, we arrived to the Rimon and Nafha Prisons. Suddenly all the anxiety returned, but even
stronger this time. All my attempts to control this anxiety failed. When the driver announced that we
arrived, all of the questions which I tried to avoid were back. I was like a butterfly which wants to fly,
my heart was racing,my eyes were full of tears and absurdly, I had a strong urge to smile. A strong
feeling overcame me, one that I havent felt for 9 years. Finally I was going to see my father, but I was
certain it wasnt going to be easy, for Indeed long waiting hours and humiliation were ahead of us.
We arrived at Nafha prison at 11:30 am. One shouldnt expect to just get off the bus and proceed to visit
their loved ones, for this isnt the case here. Right at the entrance, a security vehicle approached us and
we were asked to wait. The bus had to park on the side while waiting, and we were surprised when a
large bus passed by.The bus was a white and had the logo of the Israeli Prison Services (IPS) Nahshon
unit on it. It had tiny and high windows and looked like a dairy truck. This was the bus which transports
prisoners. Of course we couldnt glimpse any of the prisoners, but we saw the dozens of Nahshon
personnel surrounding the bus.
For 20 minutes we waited inside the bus as we were banned from moving. Eventually a policeman who
was wearing the IPS uniform came and opened a gate which led into a yard. As we entered the closed
yard, the policeman was making sure everyone had entered so he can close the door behind us. In the
yard were uncomfortable metal seats and only two fans in this unbelievable heat. The toilets were so
filthy to the point that you rather not use them or end up using them with difficulty if its absolutely
necessary. Inside the yard were two windows; one for smoking and the other one was the window
through which the families hand-over the clothes and books to prisoners. I really wish I could have
destroyed that window because of the humiliation one faces at it. The policeman at the window was dull,
slow and mean. He seemed to have creative ways of making the families suffer. On the left, there was a
window where one hands their visit permit and identity card after they call the prisoners name. I called
that window, the window of luck.
One of the jailers called out the names of several prisoners, which he categorized as the first group. The
divided us, the 72 visitors into four groups. Although the fourth group was only of four families, yet it
was an excuse for the IPS to delay us further and cause us more suffering. My mother, Ghassan and I
each separately headed to the three windows. Ghassan went to the smoking window, I went to the mean
soldier window, and my mom went to the window of luck- and I wished she hadnt.

At the window, the soldier told my mother that only me (Sumoud) was allowed to visit on that day,and
both of Ghassan and herself werent. My mom started shouting at him saying that the whole family was
allowed to visit, and he replied in a very cold manner saying that was decision. At that moment, I felt
my moms deep pain and saw her tearful eyes. Ghassans face was full of rage. They completely
disrupted our happiness and eagerness for that long awaited visit. My mom was trying to look away
from me to hide the tears in her eyes. Ghassan was hugging me and telling me to greet our dad warmly,
while in fact he was trying to hide his anger. It was an extremely painful and stressful moment for all
three of us. My mom wasnt allowed to visit my dad for over two years, and my brother hasnt seen my
dad since the last war on Gaza in 2014. How can I visit my dad while they cant see him? I felt like I
wanted to cry and shout as loud as I can, but I didnt letthem destroy this precious and priceless
meeting for me. My mum and Ghassan left and I was alone. It was a very cruel feeling that moment,
however I had to proceed with this long awaited visit.
The Mean Window
Ever since we entered the waiting hall and until the time of the visit, I and a group of no more than ten
people were waiting at window with the mean policeman. We waited at the window from 11:45 until
1:00 pm all through which the mean policeman was doing anything he could to make us suffer. He
would allow some clothes and reject others based on their colors and his mood. One of the mothers with
us said last time black was allowed, wherea sthis time black was prohibited! Each of the families had at
least one piece of clothing which the mean policeman decided were not permitted. Moreover, the
policeman kept disappearing without giving any explanation leaving us to wait even further. Instead of
having a moment of calm to plan how and what to say to our loved ones in the 45 minutes of the visit,
this policeman kept us waiting,feeling bitter and humiliated.
For 9 years I dreamed of visiting my father. After 9 years of waiting, I will get to see him for 45
minutes! Around 1:15, they called the names of the prisoners in the first group. We stood by a metal
gate waiting to enter. A policeman would ask which prisoner each person was visiting and then would
make one wait while he checks the names. More waiting! At the moment I was wishing these doors,
these mean people and faces did not exist! I just wanted to go through the gate to see my father. I wished
these restrains and limits did not exist and that this suffering be over, for I couldnt wait anymore.
I finally went through the gate. Behind it was a metal detecting machine. I was asked to take off my
shoes, put them through the machine and walk through. If the machine would buzz, you will have to
take off anything that could possibly make a sound. Sometimes women would be asked to takeoff their
underwear if it had a metal hook. They would give the women prayer clothes, ask them to go to the
bathroom to take off their underwear and then place it in the machine for further inspection!
Lucky enough, the machine did not buzz, so I was able to proceed. I then entered a second inspection
room. There stood two heavily armed female soldiers who were about 22 years old. They held a portable

metal detecting machine. The look in their eyes lacked any innocence, which one think they would have
at their age, or humanity. I almost felt like shouting them, how does it feel for you as women to be
oppressing other women? But I didnt. After the inspection I entered a hall, and there waited again. I
waited and waited. Slowly I started feeling happy. Behind the next door I will be seeing my father, at
last. I will see the bright face that I love and miss.
A policeman entered the hall and said its time for the visit. At that moment I felt like running, or
walking! I really didnt know what to do. We finally entered the visiting hall. The first thing I noticed
there was the window which separates us from the prisoners. I was trying to glimpse my dad. Where are
you dad? I was eagerly trying to find him. At the first window was a young man, at the second a man.
But not my father. And suddenly I saw him. Walking next to the last guy. I ran towards the empty
window so quickly that I even jumped over a set of steps. Suddenly he was therein front of me. My
father, Abu Ghassan. I wished the glass separating us could break so he would hug me as he did when I
was young. But some dreams are never meant to come true. The glass did not break.
My father, my source of power and happiness, was finally there in front of me where our eyes can
finally meet. Despite the glass that was separating us, I held up the phone and I shouted as loud as I
could:(Baba Habibi!) Dad, my love! Finally! Then I sent him several kisses from behind the glass. At
that moment my eyes were full of tears and my voice was shaking.My fathers eyes were full of tears as
well. However, we did not want to cry at that moment because it was a time for joy, so out of nowhere I
made a loud Zaghrouta (ululation: a celebratory sounds usually made in weddings and other
celebrations) and we started laughing. It was here that the visit properly started.
My dad was still the same. His sight made me feel like I am at the top of the world. We laughed and
talked. I sent him more kisses though the glass. I passed greetings from many people. He told me about
this daily life, how he spent his days and his new and I the same. These moments felt like a dream that I
can never forget.
I started at him a lot, in an attempt to satisfy my need of him, my warm loving father, and his gaze
which I will not be seeing again anytime soon. These moments felt like I was a child again living my
happy childhood. Although he looked the same, yet he looked older as well. This annoyed me a lot,
however, his spirit does not sound any older for he had the same strength and smile to which we were
used. The beautiful grey had spread to the rest of his hair. His eyes were somewhat sad, probably
because my mother and Ghassan could not visit him today, but also because today was my uncles 13th
memorial. My father was also sad for his companion in prison, Ishrak Rimawi, whos son, Ahmad, had
passed away just two days ago. We spoke about how painful and shocking Ahmads death was. Ahmad
was only recently released from Israeli occupation prisons and he actually spent time with his own father
inside the same prison.

Despite all the sadness and pain, we still managed to smile and send each other kisses every now and
then. We also managed to joke and laugh loudly about some family matters. Towards the very end of the
visit,my dad was about to say goodbye and tell me to take care, when suddenly the phone was cut off. I
could no longer hear his voice. The 45 minutes were over.Still he continued to speak from behind the
glass and he placed his hand at the window. I said very loudly, do not worry abu Ghassan, and I placed
my hand at the window facing his. I glanced at him one last time and he as well. That moment was the
most difficult. My dream came to an end and I did not have enough of my father. I still yearned for him
and missed him.
My father stood up to walk towards the door. I walked on the other side of the glass following his
footsteps and watching him.A police officer was asking me to hurry up, but I did not hear him for I was
trying to listen to my fathers steps. When I got to the door and was about to leave, I shouted as loud as I
could: Baba (dad), Abu Ghassan! I will miss you a lot and I sent him a kiss. He waved his hand
goodbye, smiling and we both left.
45 minutes are not enough for a 9 year old conversation. It was not even enough to quench my thirst and
yearning for my father, but it was enough to give both me and him some strength and hope. My dream
was over and I did not want it to end. Nevertheless, the beauty of the situation is that one could break the
shackles placed on his happiness and could be happy, although briefly, despite all the difficult
circumstances. For 45 minutes we ignored the police officer surrounding us, from my side and his
watching the families and their loved ones. I ignored their reactions to our interaction, or their reaction
to how the glass separates us from our loved ones or the inhuman phone. We simply were looking for
minutes of happiness throughout our pain to keep us going, and we found them.
After the Visit Reflecting on the Dream
The visit was over, but the journey did not end yet. We left around 2:50 pm to a room where we would
have to wait for the other families to finish their visits. I cant but describe how sad was the situation in
that waiting room. The room was very quiet. The families were waiting,eating some of the food they got
with them. Sad looks were all over their faces. They all were busy thinking, remembering every detail of
the short visit that went by too quickly. Everyone was tired and filled with sadness. We all had to wait
for over two hours for the remaining families to finish their visits. It was 5:10 pm already when we were
about to leave. As we were leaving through the prison doors and I wished I could stay a little longer.
Even if I couldnt see my father, yet I did not want to leave him there alone. These moments were very
difficult for me and for the other families. To leave your loved ones behind. Yet, we will continue to
dream. We will continue to hope.