Sebastia, occupied West Bank – When Israeli military vehicles approach, the news of the last foray begins in cascade through Sebastia from one person to another, and young people return home as quickly as possible.
They try to come back before invading the soldiers to reach their street, knowing too well the potentially serious consequences if they do not.
The warning cries often come from those who walk near the point of view from the scenic summit of the Sebastia archaeological park.
From there, people can spot army vehicles on the roads below before they reach the city and its old ruins, giving people a chance to hide their young people.
Shortly after, walking prevention warnings are often disseminated on social networks, and Sebastia residents – once a religious pilgrimage site and a tourist hotspot – have the choice to hide at home or face soldiers who no longer show restraint.
‘He celebrated killing my son’
In January of this year, an Israeli soldier fell Ahmed Jazar, 14, then raised his rifle in the air triumphantly after hitting the unarmed boy in the chest, piercing his heart.
Witnesses saw the soldier “celebrate” while Hmed was slowing slowly to death, his father, Rashid, 57, told Tel Aviv Tribune.
Ahmed was mature beyond his years, say his parents, and had his family struck by poverty his vocation.
He was also a talented painter and wanted to train as a decorator. He aspired to open a shop so that he could earn enough money to buy a permanent house for his family – something better than the overcrowded rental apartment in which they lived.
“They shot Ahmed and killed all his dreams, right there,” said his mother, Wafaa.
“The army treats us as if we were in a state of war – but we did nothing.
“The soldiers are here every day, and no one thinks that their children are safe unless they are at home.”
Ahmed woke up at the start of the afternoon on Sunday that he was killed, Wafaa and Rashid say, after staying late with his friends in the neighborhood in the previous night. He liked to play football in the school courtyard, cycle near the archaeological park and eat in the former frequented cafes of the city.
He returned after seeing his friends and spent a little time with his family, ignoring that they would share their last moments.
Then, while dinner time was approaching, his parents sent Ahmed to buy bread.
“It was always a habit of himself to come that way,” said Rashid. “He was very sociable … Everyone loved him.
“But this time he left and never returned.”
The frequent raids of Israeli soldiers in occupying western cities encourage certain children and young people to acts of challenge, such as throwing stones towards heavily armed soldiers or their armored vehicles, or shining laser pointers on them.
According to some neighbors, Ahmed and his friends shone laser pens on fatal January, hiding behind a wall near a nursery while some soldiers were heading for them.
His family denies Ahmed’s role to that. Rashid and Wafaa said they were waiting for their stores to return to dinner together.
“He was just a child,” said Rashid. “The Israeli soldier knew that he was a young boy – and that he was not a threat to the army in any way.
“He was hundreds of meters from them when they shot him!”
The door and the facade of the nursery, established by bullets, established by Save The Children Charity, are always a reminder of what happened when Ahmed was shot.
Addressing Israeli Journal Haaretz in March, a military spokesman said: “Following the incident, an investigation was launched by the Criminal Police Criminal Investigation Division. Naturally, we cannot develop an in progress in progress. ”
The Palestinians, including residents of Sebastia, say they are used to what they call “simulated” investigations which generally have no results, and almost certainly no punishment for the authors.
Rashid was contacted by the army to provide information for the investigation into the murder of Ahmed, but he refused.
“They killed my son and then called me to talk about justice?” He said.
Tel Aviv Tribune sent written requests to the Israeli authorities, asking for comments on the Ahmed shooting investigation, but no response was received at the time of publication.
The Israeli army often made a raid of cities and cities in the West Bank, but few have been targeted like Sebastia, where he intensified attacks since Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu established his ultra -nationalist far -right government at the end of 2022.
Since then, the army has killed Fawzi Makhalfeh, at the age of 19, in July 2023, and Ahmed on January 19 of this year.
There have been at least 25 ball injuries in Sebastia since Netanyahu’s coalition government came to power, a handful of which involved children. A 22-year-old man from the neighboring city of Attil was shot in the chest while crossing Sebastia earlier this month.
Violent settlers also wreak havoc on the city’s Palestinian landowners, which depends on agriculture and tourism, and yet more colonies, official and unofficial, should be built around Sebastia.
The soldiers attack anyone fighting and broadcasting threatening messages using residents’ mobile phones. A recording, heard by Tel Aviv Tribune, by what is ostensibly an Israeli soldier, accuses the city dwellers of being “involved in terrorism”, and will warn that they “pay the price”.
Justice
Wafaa and her husband were seated on each side of a memorial to their son killed in the humble house of the house, which they can barely afford. Ahmed left four brothers and three sisters aged seven to 20 years.
Rashid worked as a painter in Israel, but, like thousands of Palestinians in Gaza and in the West Bank, he could not go to work through the border since October 7, contributing to the perilous financial situation of the family.
The eldest son, Rushdi, 19, works as an intermittent carpenter and, apart from Rashid, is the only member of the employment family.
Ahmed had abandoned school, they said, to help his father doing small work such as Olivier’s painting and picking to generate money for the family. Wafaa, who was doing dresses, is also unable to find work and always has five young children depending on his care.
Two of Ahmed’s remaining brothers and sisters, Amir, six years old, and Adam, 11, clung to their mother while she was talking.
“I sit near Ahmed’s grave and cry for hours,” Wafaa told Tel Aviv Tribune, weeks after the murder of his son. “I cry there as much as possible, so that my children do not see me – I must be strong for them.”
The 40 -year -old man was unable to keep visual contact, as if tears would defeat her at any time. She raised Ahmed’s stained blood clothes, torn apart by bullets.
After the soldiers’ departure that day, Rashid remembers rushing on the stage and making his way through a crowd, only to find Ahmed collapsing in a blood pond, meters from the place where he was shot.
Rashid then led with Ahmed to the An-Najah hospital in Nablus, but his son did not survive the trip. He was declared dead on his arrival.
Her mother fell unconscious after hearing Ahmed’s murder, and said she woke up while feeling “defeated”, as if her life was over.
She says that Israel wants the residents of Sebastia to feel this way, so they can no longer resist and leave.
Rashid, with a vacant expression, said that the murder of his son had terrorized his family by staying inside – and when the invasions take place, they lock their doors, hide in a back room and turn off the lights.
He says that similar precautions are taken by many of Sébastia, who “live in fear” after the murder of his son sent a scary message to those who call the ancient city.
“The army is coming here daily – and now we are afraid of going out,” added Wafaa. “Soldiers are ready to shoot children now.
“I let my son go to the shops, but I brought him back (covered).”