Jabal Mukaber, occupied East Jerusalem – Israa Jaabis’ biggest worry, now that she has been released from Hasharon Prison for Palestinian prisoners, is being accepted back into her community.
Israa suffered first and third degree burns over 60% of his body and eight of his fingers were amputated after his car caught fire 500 meters from the Israeli al-Zayyim checkpoint in Jerusalem in October 2015.
It was two weeks after the start of the “Knife Intifada” or October uprising against Israeli occupation, led primarily by Palestinians in their teens and 20s, unaffiliated with political factions.
She can’t fully raise her hands because the skin in her armpits has fused and her right ear is almost completely gone. She lives in a constant state of pain, she said, and has to breathe through her mouth because of a gaping hole in one side of her nose.
Israa says she knows some people have trouble looking at her.
Following the incident in her car, Israa, now 38, was charged with attempted murder by explosion – a charge she denies – and sentenced to 11 years in prison in 2017.
Israa said she lost control of the vehicle in which she was transporting furniture to her home in the Jabal Mukaber neighborhood of Jerusalem.
Her sister, Mona, told Tel Aviv Tribune in 2018: “The Israeli version is that she tried to blow up her car at the checkpoint, but how could that be the case when the car windows were all intact?
“The exterior of the car hasn’t even changed color. And if there had been an explosion, Israa would have been blown to pieces.”
After her release on November 26, Israa told Tel Aviv Tribune in an interview that during her imprisonment she had become entirely dependent on her fellow inmates to help her with her daily tasks, a “humiliating” feeling, she said. .
But solidarity with other women during her time in prison is what now gives her hope for the future since her release as part of a swap deal negotiated between Hamas and Israel that also saw the release of Israeli captives held in Gaza.
“I thought if girls in prison at his age liked me, that meant my son (Moatasem) would like me,” she said.
Too afraid to go to the hospital
Today, her most urgent need is for proper medical treatment – something she says she was denied in prison – but she is too afraid to go to hospital.
“To get treatment now, I would prefer to go abroad because I feel like I’m being hunted.
“Especially if I go to hospitals here or in the West Bank, they (Israeli forces) could come after me at any time. »
In 2018, Israa underwent eyelid surgery and this year, the palm of her hand.
The operation on her palm failed, she said, due to lack of care. Thinking about getting treatment for her horrific burns now also triggers traumatic memories of her time in the prison hospital, she said. “It was difficult for me to see the other prisoners suffering.
“Two people had a foot amputated, one had a foot and a hand and others had a breathing tube. It is difficult for me to see them and to see great men like them suffering. It was also difficult for them to see me and their wives in this situation.
“There was an unspoken communication between us, like they were telling me they wished they could help me and I was telling them I wished they weren’t in prison. »
Israa says it was having young women and children in prison with her during her first three years that gave her the strength to continue.
“Before, I worked with children and being around them, laughing and joking, made me feel normal.
“The young girls in prison gave me the strength to continue. Smiling helped so much, a smile is hope and it makes you forget all the pain. Their presence gave me the impression that Moatasem was around me.
“It was painful but at the same time I had hope and some motivation.”
After the departure of another prisoner, Lina al-Joubani, who became the de facto caregiver for the young prisoners, Israa says she took her place. “I used to organize activities for them. Entertainment activities, sporting events, drawing and crafts.
“I created a Hakawati (storyteller) theater for them. I had the idea to cheer them up because they were so sad (when Lina left) so I had to do things to distract them.
For Israa, these kinds of activities in prison were more about refusing to surrender than “having fun.”
“The prisoners inside are not carefree and not having fun. She does these activities to prove that she is steadfast and will stay that way.
Collective punishment
After the Hamas attack on Israeli army outposts and surrounding villages on October 7, the mood in the prison changed dramatically, Israa says. “We were beaten and subjected to obscene verbal violence, we were tear gassed.
“The day it happened, the prisoners were singing and suddenly the jailers arrived. They attacked Marah Bakir (a fellow inmate) and isolated her in her cell. They isolated several prisoners.
“It is forbidden to simply want to cheer up, have fun and sing patriotic songs.
“The girls try to sing, they shut them up. They try to play and move a little to change the mood and forget the distress, but all this is forbidden.
Prison guards also confiscated all of the women’s belongings, including notebooks, drawings and family photos, and they were forbidden from wearing their prayer clothes.
The prisoners also no longer had access to any information from the outside – all radios were confiscated – and therefore had no idea what was happening.
When the women finally heard the news that the prisoners were going to be released, it was an agonizing wait for them all.
“I was getting dressed on Thursday morning and we were surprised that the outing was postponed, and I also got dressed on Friday, since my name was at the top of the list. The next morning, the first exchanges began.
“Finally, ‘Come on, get dressed.’ You want to go there?’ I was excited and ready but I didn’t end up going and then I got scared that they wouldn’t let me go and the rest of the girls were scared.
“Praise God we all ended up going. »
The Israelis tried to stop his family from celebrating his release, Israa says, but they failed to silence everyone.
“The occupation took cameras and deleted some of the videos, but there were so many cameras that it was not possible to delete everything.
“Anyway, in the memory of the Palestinians, everything is printed from the beginning of the occupation until the end of the occupation.”
