Dura, occupied West Bank – Ziad Abu Helaiel – political activist and social reformer – was best known for his provocative phrase “Bihimmish!” (“Whatever”, in Arabic).
The phrase was delivered brazenly, dismissively even, to Israeli soldiers who tried to scare him as he stood in their way, often using just his body to stop them from shooting solidarity protesters in the West Bank during the war of 2014 on Gaza.
To say that Abu Helaiel, who was beaten to death at his home near Hebron by Israeli soldiers on October 7 this year, was well known would be an understatement. He was famous in the West Bank for the peaceful protests he led against the Israeli occupation, never armed and often standing as a human barrier between demonstrators and Israeli soldiers.
Thousands of people attended his funeral in the West Bank. Several thousand more tried to attend, but were stopped at roadblocks manned by Israeli forces.
Among his many acts of resistance, he led a demonstration of more than 10,000 people in front of Israeli checkpoints in Hebron to demand the return of the bodies of Palestinians who were killed by Israel in 2016. The demonstration resulted in the return of 17 bodies.
On another occasion, said Muhammad Kamel Nassar, 69, a seller, Abu Helieel intervened when Israeli soldiers tried to arrest a young man during one of the recent incursions in Dura, south of Hebron.
Abu Helaiel pursued the soldiers and “during his pursuit, the sheikh confronted them and was severely beaten, handcuffed and arrested for hours after helping the young man escape from the soldiers.”
Nassar recalls the siege event near the Grand Mosque of Dura where the pair would sit for hours and discuss issues such as the suffering of Gaza residents and social reconciliation.
Taking care of your children and your flowers
In the courtyard of their house, Abu Helieel’s 43-year-old wife, Basma, sits alone in one of the two chairs in which she and her husband used. was killed, with love.
He preferred the smell of natural basil flowers, she explains as she wraps her old Keffiyeh around her shoulders. This is where they used to drink their coffee after dawn prayers every day and wait for the sunrise together. Then their children went to work and their grandchildren to study.
He also took care of his family. Long after they became adults, they remained his children when in their home.
Abu Helaiel lost two of his sons to Israeli bombing. One was 7-month-old Jihad, who was killed during the first Intifada in 1989 near their home. The family was prevented from traveling to the hospital and the baby didn’t stand a chance.
Another son, Ahmed, was killed at age 17 in 2017 when he was returned by an Israeli vehicle to Ramallah. A brother, Bader, was shot in the chest with live bullets before being arrested, injured and imprisoned for three years.
Basma, 64, gave birth to eight sons and six daughters. Those still alive are twins Musa and Maysaa, 42; Muhammad, 41 years old; Murad, 39; Issa, 37 years old; Sanaa, 36 years old; Iyad – the twin of Jihad – 34; Mahmoud, 33 years old; Bader, 32; Twins Nidaa and Fidaa, 31 years old; Muayad, 30 years old; and Yasmine, 29.
‘They beat him mercilessly’
In the early hours of October 7, the first anniversary of the Hamas-led attack on southern Israel that ended with 1,139 dead and 251 captured, and sparked the start of the Israeli war in Gaza, Occupation soldiers stormed the courtyard of Abu Helaiel’s house.
“It was around three in the morning when we heard the voices of the soldiers as they besieged the house and ordered us to open the door,” says Basma.
His son, Muayad, went to open the door and was immediately attacked. The soldiers demanded to take them to his uncle’s house next door.
At that moment, other soldiers burst into the house to find Ziad and started beating him mercilessly. He kept repeating that he had a heart condition, but one of the soldiers deliberately hit the heart area. As Abu Helaiel tried to follow them from the house, one of the soldiers slammed the heavy iron front door into his chest, causing him to collapse.
Abu Helieel had previously undergone a number of cardiac procedures, including catheterization of the artery. He lost consciousness for more than half an hour but the house was surrounded by soldiers. “They were preventing the ambulance from reaching us,” Basma explains.
When he regained consciousness, “he said the Shahada in my arms while I tried to help him stay alive, and then his soul left his body. I felt that my body had become soulless too,” explains Basma.
‘Lots of honey and a little onion’
Basma fondly remembers her husband’s generosity, humility, courage and constant prayer in the mosque. “He taught me patience and he advised me to take care of his sick and paralyzed mother and continue her journey without fear,” she said.
Everyone loved him, she said. When he returned home, a number of cats were still waiting for him and he fed them every day. They kept coming – even after he was killed.
His grandchildren would be waiting too – ready to take the treats he brought them, chips or cookies. “I remember he fed them from his spoon even though they had already eaten their lunch,” Basma recalls.
Basma met Abu Helaiel in Jordan, where she was born and her family lived. Abu Helaiel went to work for a Saudi bank but returned to Jordan during their period of engagement and marriage.
The couple stayed there for three years before Abu Helaiel took them back to Palestine where they settled in the town of Dura, south of Hebron and he worked in agriculture. Basma says their marriage was filled with “a lot of honey and a little onion” – a lot of happiness and a little sadness.
Above all, she said, her husband was dedicated to defending his countrymen. “He never used weapons or sharp tools, but rather stood with his bare chest and clean palm in front of the guns of the occupation,” she explains. “He wanted to prevent Israeli soldiers from firing bullets and bombs at Palestinian youth, especially when suppressing occupation protests in solidarity with Gaza residents throughout past wars.
“He loved the people of Gaza very much and was greatly affected by the scenes of the massacres in Gaza and spoke a lot about what he saw, especially of young children and women. Her tears did not dry up for long periods of time as a result of her sadness and pain. »
Now, she said, the pillar of the house is gone. “He left a huge void.”
At her funeral, Basma said she focused on her courage. She said: “Congratulations on your martyrdom, and may God make you happy. This death lifts the head and shoulders of his entire family, and it is a badge of honor for us and a tribute to his biography. His will in his departure was that we should not weep, but rather rejoice, and ululate, and not receive mourners, but rather receive congratulations. »
Settle disputes in the dead of the night
“We never really grew up in our father’s eyes,” says Murad Abu Helaiel, 39, who works as a computer programmer.
“My oldest brother is 42 and our youngest is 27, but he treated us all like children under five because of the great care he gave us.”
He was also seen as a caregiver in the wider community and was often called upon to help settle disputes. “Several times he received calls asking for his help during the night. He would leave his bed to provide it,” Murad recalls.
On one occasion, Abu Helaiel was stabbed in the hand while trying to intervene in a dispute between two local men. “He refused to leave for treatment despite his bleeding until there was reconciliation between the two parties,” his son said.
On another occasion, he intervened in a dispute between two neighbors over one of them uprooting the other’s tree. The injured party demanded 6,000 dinars ($8,464) for the tree.
Abu Helaiel removed his Agal (the head wrap over the Kffiyeh) and put it on the victim, asking: “Is this enough instead of 6,000 dinars?” The man replied: “No, it’s worth 10,000, and I can’t owe you 4,000 dinars.”
“And the dispute was resolved,” says Murad.
His father’s death left a big void not only in the family, but in his community and Palestinian society as a whole, he said. “The Palestinian people needed someone who would confront occupation and injustice everywhere and fear nothing.”
During his final days, his son said, he continued to provide assistance and care to the community despite his heart problems. “I hold his clothes – his head Agal, Keffiyeh, Abaya and Dishdasha. They have become an invaluable treasure to me and my family. »