Hebron, occupied West Bank – Ishaq Qafisheh steers his wheelchair around the Ibrahimi Mosque, resting his trusty crutch on his shoulder as he rides. This crutch has been his life companion since he was diagnosed with polio as a young child.
The 60-year-old will open his small grocery store for the day, one of the few that remained open in the courtyard after the Israeli army closed most of them following the 1994 Ibrahimi Mosque massacre.
It’s more like a prison canteen than a grocery store, Qafisheh says as he settles into his seat in a 12-square-meter (129-square-foot) space, but it provides essential staples to people who live nearby , trapped by Israeli checkpoints which firmly lock them in.
“The Palestinians who buy my groceries are prisoners, like those in any prison. My only customers are the people who live inside the checkpoints,” says Qafisheh.
Falafel at the grocery store
Qafisheh has worked at this store for as long as he can remember.
It was a falafel restaurant until about 30 years ago, when he decided to turn it into a small grocery store, which would make his job easier.
Today, it sells basic food items as well as crowd-pleasers like candies and chocolates, ice creams, snacks, soft drinks and juices.
He lives upstairs in his store with his wife and three children, a son and two daughters.
His son Oussama, 23, helps him receive deliveries, stock the shelves and monitor the store. Osama finished high school and decided to work with his father, who dedicated his life to this place and store.
“I love seeing the Ibrahimi Mosque and its visitors,” says Qafisheh. “I like welcoming my neighbors to my shop, meeting them and their news. This store has become the “soul” of this neighborhood.
“My grocery store is my soul and the Ibrahimi mosque is my life,” he continues. “This is where I was born and raised with my family, and I stayed despite many others leaving because of the policies and obstacles of the occupation.
“But I stay, at home and in my store.”
Surrounded, suffocated
Around 68 families live at Israeli military checkpoints around the Ibrahimi Mosque area – which is in H2, an Israeli-controlled area in Hebron.
That makes a total of around 400 people unable to exit checkpoints, frozen in place by the curfew imposed by Israel since its war on Gaza began on October 7.
There are more than 20 Israeli checkpoints, including gates, checkpoints, soldiers and even more soldiers keeping them locked down, except for half an hour in the morning on Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays when they can leave, and one hour in the evening the same day. days they are allowed to return.
Travel was a little easier before the war on Gaza began, before the curfew, but everyone who lived around the mosque still had to pass through checkpoints.
For the first 130 days after October 7, Qafisheh remembers vividly, no stores were allowed to open in the area demarcated by the checkpoints, which meant that everyone had to leave to buy any item, including including Qafisheh.
He was leaving with his wife and son, Osama, to buy everything they needed. Until finally he was allowed to reopen his own grocery store, because it had basic necessities and because his health prevented him from getting what he needed beyond the check-in points. control.
He was overjoyed and immediately got to work dusting and washing the shelves which had accumulated a thick layer of dust during the four months of closure – he had not been allowed to leave his house to check the store condition.
The next step was resupply, which required placing an order over the phone with a supplier who could only travel 300 meters (330 yards) outside the checkpoints.
Undeterred, Qafisheh went outside, accompanied by Osama, so that they could receive and inspect everything and bring it back to the checkpoints themselves.
Resupply does not always go smoothly, and Qafisheh has lost ice cream and other refrigerated items when he has been held up at checkpoints, sometimes for hours.
Glad to be back
That Qafisheh is happy to be behind the counter of his store is clear to everyone who sees him and his satisfied smile. Passers-by stop to greet him and exchange news of everything and nothing.
Business is a little slow, as the economic crisis hitting everyone in the occupied West Bank means no one has much money to spend, but for Qafisheh, returning to his store was a matter of his own sovereignty and he had to stay there. his shop, whatever happens.
“I can do this. I lived through the lockdowns and curfews. People were depressed, suffering and living in fear of settler attacks, especially at night.
“Houses were stormed by the army most often while people were sleeping, and settlers also launched most of their attacks during this time.
“We have seen settler attacks intensifying everywhere in the West Bank, around us, where we live. And the army and the settlers imprisoned us in our homes.
But, he continues, he will continue to do what he does and try to expand the store’s offerings to include more of the basic necessities that his neighbors need so much, especially as Ramadan approaches.
