#take this week to center Gaza and Palestine in your heart

[nightroo]

I wanted to make something for the global strike for Palestine.

It may take months, years, decades, but Israel will fall. Never lose hope.

[sergle]

I really truly, from the bottom of my heart, hate you bitches so much, because on the tiktok of literally COCK AND BALL jokes w brittany broski, there were a few notes/messages like this:

And I KNOW you don't think anyone's going to check. You had someone go into your askbox and say "hiii brittany broski is shitty about palestine she's really ignorant :/" and you went oh omg I didn't know!! thanks for telling me! So I checked! This is in reference to her talking in her podcast, because people were asking why she hadn't done any big press statements about Palestine, you didn't retweet this or that, you must not care, don't you care, what's your stance, etc etc please say more OKAY COOL. So what's going on there? What did Brittany say on her podcast? Is she a Bad Person? Can I have some transcript, please? ____ "Hey guys, before we get into this week's episode, I want to talk to you about the ongoing and prolonged suffering and loss of life in Gaza, in Israel, and the oppression of Palestinian people widespread. I don't ever want it to be a question that I would ever not be against the oppression of any group of people, that I would ever stand on the side of the oppressor." "There was a lot of fear of misusing my platform." ... "I will admit that I was nervous to talk about it, because I don't want to say the wrong thing. And this is too fucking serious of an issue to misspeak, or to spread misinformation, or to speak over or for someone." ... "So I want to take a moment on my biggest platform- which is this podcast, to say that I stand with the people of Palestine, I stand for the liberation of Palestinian people." ... "Every day, to log on to social media, and be just inundated with graphic, unimaginable violence, and loss, and grief, it's just--There are no words." ... "And I feel helpless. That's part of it too, when you feel helpless, the last thing you want to do is talk to people about it-- but visibility is a resource in and of itself. And I can offer that." ... "The outpouring of rage and passion online, and anger at what's happening, I would argue needs to be dedicated and focused on our elected officials. We live in a democracy- albeit an inherently flawed one- we live in a democracy where we have elected officials who were elected and put in power to represent us, and if we feel misrepresented, if we feel underrepresented in foreign affairs? These officials have public phone numbers and emails. There are scripts available online to express your disdain and your rage, and unfortunately that's one of the only ways we'll see actionable change."   "If you expected more from me, it's a terrible feeling- but I don't want to center myself, this needs to be all eyes on Palestine right now, where the real activism is happening. I would encourage you to follow journalists that are on the ground, people who are in Gaza, we need to be listening to them. I would also hope that we're at a point in this conversation where I can express my desire to stand in solidarity with the people of Palestine and that NOT meaning or suggesting or condoning anti-Semitism of any kind. There's a rise of anti-Semitism and islamophobia in the United States and it's just-- it's disgusting, and it's scary, so I want that to be said too. I just wanted to share that I am experiencing part of this collective sense of helplessness and hopelessness-- but it DOESN'T HAVE to be hopeless. I'm going to include a phone number in the description of this episode where, if you don't know the name of your senators or your Congressman, it's never too late to learn, and you can reach out to them." _______ Hm. What a bitch!! Yeah, just so ignorant and uncaring. Obviously she's not keeping up with anything. Should've retweeted more shit ig!

[tamlindudley]

So I did some digging on Rebecca Yarros’ Instagram for that infamous “both sides” posts and the only one I could find was one from October 15, 2023 with a photo of text that says “Children are not collateral damage.” In the caption, she writes: “For those harassing me and spreading false information about “my opinion” on world events, this will always be it: CHILDREN ARE NOT COLLATERAL DAMAGE.

This discussion shouldn’t be centered on my white, privileged voice, but to those tagging me and throwing around accusations that I support genocide, I will say this: As someone whose grandfather survived a Nazi concentration camp as a POW and suffered the lifelong physical effects of torture, I find your accusations not only false, but personally insulting.

I abhor war in every form, which is why every military book I write delves into the myriad of ways war irrevocably harms people. I’ve received dozens of documented, nauseating, and frightening D* and R* threats in the past due to my anti-war views, which leaves me hesitant to speak on THIS platform. I’d rather ACT by boosting other voices and donating money, which I have.

I condemn violence. I am absolutely horrified by the despicable attack on Israel. I’m terrified for the children and Palestinian innocents of Gaza. Their living conditions are inhumane. Both emotions are valid. It’s called humanity. I don’t know the answer, but I view children as equally precious, no matter where they’re born. This isn’t taking a “both sides stance.” This is a human rights stance.

As for my book translations: I will always stand against book banning (as I spoke on at the Kennedy Center last week), and refusing a translation is in my opinion a form of banning. It denies people who only speak that language access to knowledge, to different opinions, to information and perspectives that can help change hearts and minds. Books spread empathy and understanding in every form. To assume my political stance based on where my publisher (for trad books) or I (for self-published works) sell my rights for translations would be a mistake.

Now please, go donate money to the causes who can help the innocents, and elevate the voices that need to be heard. Mine shouldn’t have to be one of them.

*** Edited to add “Palestinian” as I was educated that only saying “children and innocents in Gaza” was harmful, and honestly, I’m just over here doing my best and learning.”

Interestingly, I couldn’t find the original post of her fence sitting anywhere so she must’ve deleted or edited it. She hasn’t posted anything else related to Palestine since then nor has she said anything on her Twitter account. She’s only liked one post from USA Today about supporting Gaza but nothing else. I’m honestly not that surprised considering the shitshow that was Iron Flame

This is interesting, and there are certainly people having worse takes than this. I'm curious what exactly led her to get labeled as a Zionist in the first place though, to which she's responded with this. Because she can't have done nothing for the book community to point fingers at her, and her having to speak up about it.

I still suggest buying second hand if you want her books. There's always plenty on ebay or fb marketplace.

[jed-thomas]

Addiction as a Political Strategy

On Saturday, the Gaza headquarters of international media groups, including Al-Jazeera and the Associate Press, was felled by an Israeli air-strike.

According to the Independent, a spokesperson for the Israel Defence Force revealed that the building housed ‘Hamas military intelligence’, remarking that such a situation is common-practice for the organisation: ‘Hamas deliberately places military targets at the heart of densely-populated civilian areas in the Gaza Strip’.

Gaza’s contemporary population is estimated at just over two million. In terms of density, this estimate considers there to be, on average, around five thousand inhabitants per square kilometre. For comparison, according to the 2011 census, the population-density of the City of London is roughly equal. Can an area of this sort of density ever be a legitimate military target? Our nation’s capital remembers the Blitz with a shudder, still.

Indeed, there are serious questions to be asked. Asked of both sides, of course. For starters, if an offensively- and defensively-advanced nation-state is attacked by a far weaker neighbouring power, is it decent to expect some form of restraint from the former? Of course, it depends on the extent of the disparity between the two. But, given that there is such an inequality in terms of firepower, it is hard to discern what a proportionate response to certain attacks could be - one side simply cannot match the other, in any reasonable sense. Therefore, a focus on defence must be the answer. Perhaps, if paired with diplomacy, such a stance could contribute to meaningful, long-term de-escalation. But can a nation-state bare to suffer civilian casualties - or, even, fatalities - as a price? As has been evident from reporting on the latest conflagration, casualties in non-occupied regions of Palestine always outnumber the casualties in Israel. If you know that retaliation will endanger more of your opponent’s civilians as a rule, does it mean you must simply stomach the endangerment of your own civilian population? Nevertheless, that’s treating it like they are mere numbers, not human lives. On this asymmetry of death, however, must we simply reject claims that guerrillas use, to borrow a somewhat cynical phrase, ‘human shields’? Hiding amongst the crowds and the landscape is the recourse of the less armed. This does not, of course, justify the practice morally. But, again, given that you have considerable (but, necessarily, imperfect) defensive procedures, can your opponents’ guerrilla tactics justify your endangering civilians? Finally, is it proportionate to respond to evictions and police brutality with indiscriminate rocketing of civilian areas? In no uncertain terms, this is a terrorist tactic. But if you can expect nothing short of devastation, what do you have to lose? It may not be rational or moral, but it is understandable. It’s all understandable. Who of us would be rational?

In Britain, there is a species of common-sense which draws lines around areas of human activity deemed exempt from discussions of ethics and justice. Of course, in general, words like that tend to get laughed at or ignored - they smack of un-seriousness, a teenager’s petulance at reality. But of these international waters of morality, the war-zone is the most grey. Perhaps, this foggy British intuition grasps something: matters of war are also matters of the human condition, not only matters of geopolitics or morality. Despite the cynical manner in which it’s usually uttered, it allows us to raise questions about the nature of war which side-step the labyrinth of moral calculation as a facet of military strategy.

Last week, in the Israeli newspaper Haaretz, former Israeli politician Zehava Galon raised these questions and others, penning a column entitled: ‘Human Beings Are Able to Talk, Not Only to Carry a Club’. Her writing is fiery, polemical, but one turn-of-phrase in particular is fascinating: ‘addiction to the club’.

In Israel, all Jewish citizens over the age of 18 are required by law to undertake at least two years of service in the Israel Defence Forces. Usually, states introduce conscription in times of war. For around a decade, the IDF has adopted a set of strategies with regard to the Gaza Strip that are colloquially referred to as ‘mowing the grass’. In short, it is a strategy of long-term deterrence, periodically weakening militias in the area in order to produce periods of respite. The Begin-Sadat Center for Strategic Studies, which researches ‘Middle Eastern and global strategic affairs, particularly as they relate to the national security and foreign policy of Israel’, produced a study of the strategy, concluding that ‘Israel finds itself in a protracted intractable conflict’ requiring ‘a strategy of attrition designed primarily to degrade the enemy capabilities.’ The Center chalks this up to the nature of the conflict - it being against ‘hostile non-state groups’ - but, as Galon alleges, there may be an additional reason.

Personally and nationally, national service can take on a definitional function. To be blunt, if you have an enemy, you have an identity, a role, a community to which you belong. Perhaps, such negative-identifcations are an inevitable by-product of nation-building. But a video has been doing the rounds on Twitter which compiles a series of vox pops in Jerusalem that portray a violent scorn - ‘I would carpet-bomb them .. It’s the only way you could deal with it’ - for those in Gaza/Arabs/Palestinians - a sort of composite figure of the objects of the IDF’s strategies. One interviewee suggests that ‘Jews should have rights to hate them’. The interviewees justify these attitudes via the facts of the historic embattlement of the Jewish people, casting the state of Israel itself as representative of ‘divine justice’ or an incarnation of some redemptive new direction of history. Another video supposedly recorded by IDF soldiers has been shared widely. From the translated chatter, the video itself appears to have been recorded as part of attempts to capture exciting killings. This particular killing, seemingly of an unarmed young person milling around with another, is terrifically exciting to the group, the cameraman’s voice resounds with sheer glee at having caught it: ‘What a legendary video … He flew into the air and his leg was like…’

The Covenant of the Islamic Resistance Movement, the founding charter of the organisation now known by a colloquialism, Hamas, abounds with poetic images of war. Article 33 reads:

Ranks will close, fighters joining other fighters, and masses everywhere in the Islamic world will come forward in response to the call of duty, loudly proclaiming: ‘Hail to Jihad!’. This cry will reach the heavens and will go on being resounded until liberation is achieved, the invaders vanquished and Allah's victory comes about.

In the ruins of the Gaza Strip, some may have sought to make a pact with their fear and despair, to discover in it the howlings of history. Let it point the way. The recklessness of the militias’ attacks on Israel resonate with this particular desperation - and the scorn for human life that is its price. In the Covenant, ethnic hatred is expressed openly and in unashamedly violent terms. Article 7 reads:

The Day of Judgment will not come about until Moslems fight Jews and kill them.

In the Covenant’s view, the Jewish people represent a grand historic force which all Muslims must devote themselves to curbing. Article 22:

The enemies have been scheming for a long time […] They stood behind the French Revolution, the Communist Revolution and most of the revolutions we hear about […] They stood behind World War I […] and formed the League of Nations through which they could rule the world. They were behind World War II, through which they made huge financial gains […] There is no war going on anywhere without them having their finger in it.

Organisations like the IDF and Hamas blend claims to land with existential certainties, rationalising violent desires. Like a junkie rhapsodising about his creative break-throughs, these are political and historical arguments which obscure an addiction. A newsletter from the National Institutes of Health, a branch of the U.S. Department for Health and Human Services, notes that at a certain stage of addiction, ‘people often use drugs or alcohol to keep from feeling bad rather than for their pleasurable effects.’ All addicts are, to use a pop-psych phrase, running from something. Under the influence of addiction, one’s despair and fear become engines of joy, pressing you onwards towards release. Therefore, like some anti-Addicts-Anonymous, organisations like the IDF and Hamas provide infrastructures of protection and facilitation for war-addicts.

And that is the kicker: none of this constitutes some personal particular fault with Jewish Israeli citizens or Arabic Palestinian Muslims. Nationalist political organisations are cynically perpetuating themselves through these methods. Indeed, they are the agents of these conflicts, ordinary people are merely their addict-conscripts. Your dealer is not your friend.

Therefore, we raise issues of justice in matters of war to avoid these all-too-human eventualities. Raising those issues retains our focus on the central questions of the validity of a violent action, of vested interests and consequences. What is needed - in any war, anywhere - is an orientation towards the discourse of war which accepts that it is always susceptible to the distortions of the addicted mind. Forever, the question is: should this war-zone exist at all?

Galon and Tair Kaminer - a 24-year-old Jewish Israeli citizen who, having served a short sentence for refusing national service, was arrested in Jerusalem over the weekend for organising a solidarity protest of Jews and Arabs - and the legendary Hanan Ashrawi are pointed examples of a banality which is nevertheless worth re-emphasing: no nation falls totally under the spell of this addiction. The collective delirium of war never swallows populations nor individual minds whole. Always, always there are other ways. For instance, questions of rights to land are the (literal) solid ground to which we can return. Bring them into focus.

Footage from the Snapchat of an attendee at a Free Palestine protest in Nottingham City shows a car aggressively parting a line of protestors. The perpetrator has not yet been identified.

[chiseler]

A Palestinian Guide to Surviving a Quarantine: On Faith, Humor and ‘Dutch Candy’

Call it a ‘quarantine’, a ‘shelter-in-place’, a ‘lockdown’ or a ‘curfew’, we Palestinians have experienced them all, though not at all voluntarily.

Personally, the first 23 years of my life were lived in virtual ‘lockdown’. My father’s ‘quarantine’ was experienced much earlier, as did his father’s ‘shelter-in-place’ before him. They both died and were buried in Gaza’s cemeteries without ever experiencing true freedom outside of their refugee camp in Gaza.

Currently in Gaza, the quarantine has a different name. We call it ‘siege’, also known as ‘blockade’.

In fact, all of Palestine has been in a state of ‘lockdown’ since the late 1940s when Israel became a state and the Palestinian homeland was erased by Zionist colonialists with the support of their Western benefactors.

That lockdown intensified in 1967 when Israel, now a powerful state with a large army and strong allies, occupied the remaining parts of Palestine - East Jerusalem, the West Bank and the Gaza Strip.

Under this lockdown, the Palestinian freedom of movement was curtailed

to the extent that Palestinians required permits from the Israeli military to leave the Occupied Territories or to return home, to move about from one town to the other, and, at times, to cross a single Israeli military checkpoint or a fortified wall.

In Palestine, we don’t call our imprisonment a lockdown, but a ‘military occupation’ and ‘apartheid’.

As for ‘shelter-in-place’, in Palestine, we have a different name for it. We call it a ‘military curfew’.

Since I was a child, I learned to listen intently to orders barked out by Israeli military officers as they swept through our refugee camp in Gaza declaring or easing military curfews. This ritual often happened late at night.

“People of Nuseirat, per orders of the Israeli military you are now under curfew. Anyone who violates orders will be shot immediately,” the terrifying words, always communicated through a loudspeaker in broken Arabic, were a staple during the First Palestinian Uprising (Intifada) of 1987.

The period between 1987 to 1993 was a virtual ‘lockdown’. Thousands of people, mostly children, were killed for failing to respect the rules of their collective imprisonment.

In Gaza, even when a full military curfew was not in place, we rarely left our small and crowded neighborhoods, let alone our refugee camps. We were all haunted by the fear that we may not be able to make it home by 8p.m., the time designated by the Israeli military for all of us to return home.

Every day, ten or fifteen minutes after the nightly curfew set in, we would hear the crackling and hissing of bullets as they whistled through the air from various distances. Automatically, we would conclude that some poor soul - a worker, a teacher, or a rowdy teenager - missed his chance by a few minutes, and paid a price for it.

Now that nearly half of the population of planet Earth are experiencing some form of ‘curfew’ or another, I would like to share a few suggestions on how to survive the prolonged confinement, the Palestinian way.

Think Ahead

Since we knew that a complete lockdown, or a military curfew, was always pending, we tried to anticipate the intensity and duration of it and prepare accordingly.

For example, when the Israeli army killed one or more refugees, we knew in advance that mass protests would follow, thus more killings. In these situations, a curfew was imminent.

Number one priority was to ensure that all family members congregated at home or stayed within close proximity so that they could rush in as fast as possible when the caravan of Israeli military jeeps and tanks came thundering, opening fire at anyone or anything within sight.

Lesson number one: Always think ahead and prepare for a longer lockdown than the initial one declared by your city or state.

Stay Calm

My father had a bad temper, although a very kind heart. When curfews were about to start, he would enter into a near-panic state. A chain smoker with obsessive, although rational fear that one of his five boys would eventually be killed, he would walk around the house in a useless rush, not knowing what to do next.

Typically, my mother would come in, rational and calculating. She would storm the kitchen to assess what basic supplies were missing, starting with the flour, sugar and olive oil.

Knowing that the first crackdown by the Israelis would be on water supplies and electricity, she would fill several plastic containers of water, designating some for tea, coffee and cooking, and others for dishes and washing clothes.

Per her orders, we would rush to the nearby stores to make small but necessary purchases - batteries for the flashlight and the transistor radio, cigarettes for my dad, and a few VHS videotapes which we would watch over and again, whether the curfew lasted for a few days or a few weeks.

Lesson number two: Take control of the situation - do not panic - and assign specific responsibilities to every family member. This strengthens the family unit and sets the stage for collective solidarity desperately required under these circumstances.

Preserve Your Water

I cannot emphasize this enough. Even if you think that a water crisis is not impending, do not take chances.

It is easy to feel invincible and fully prepared on the first day of quarantine - or military curfew. Many times, we lived to regret that false sense of readiness, as we drank too much tea or squandered our dishwashing water supplies too quickly.

In this case, you have a serious problem, especially during the summer months when you cannot count on rainwater to make up for the deficit.

Years after the end of the Intifada, my father revealed to us that many a time, him and mom used the rainwater they collected in buckets throughout the house, including the leaked roofs for our drinking supplies, even when there was no electricity or gas to boil the water beforehand.

In retrospect, this explains the many bouts of diarrhea we experienced, despite his assurances that they had painstakingly removed all bird droppings from the salvaged water.

Lesson number three: Cautiously use your water supplies during a quarantine, and never, under any circumstance, drink rainwater or, at least, keep diarrhea pills handy.

Ration Your Food

The same logic that applies to water applies to food. It goes without saying that any acquired food would have to cover the basics first. For example, flour, which we used to make bread, comes before bananas, and sugar, which we consumed abundantly with tea, comes before Dutch candy.

I made that mistake more than once, not because of my love for the imported Dutch candy which we purchased from Abu Sa’dad’s store, located in the center of the camp. The truth is, my brothers and I played a strange form of candy poker which kept us entertained for many hours. I dreaded running out of my precious supplies before the curfew was over, thus subjugating myself to potential humiliation of having to auction everything else I owned - including my small radio - to stay in the game.

My poor mother was devastated numerous times by the horrible choices we made when we rushed to buy ‘essentials’.

Lesson number four: Agree in advance on what classifies as ‘essential food’, and consume your food in a rational way. Also, if you are lucky enough to locate Dutch candy in whatever version of the Abu Sa’dad’s store, in your town, do not gamble it all in one day.

Find Sources of Entertainment

If electricity is still available, then you still have the option of watching television. For us, Indian movies, especially those starring Amitabh Bachchan, were the number one option. Imagine my disappointment when our beloved movie star, who helped us through numerous military curfews in Gaza, was photographed grinning with right-wing Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu during the latter’s visit to India in 2018.

If electricity is cut off, be ready with alternative options: books, free wrestling, living-room soccer (with the ball preferably made from stuffed-up socks contributed by all family members), and, of course, candy poker.

Lesson number five: The key is to have more than one form of entertainment and to be prepared for every eventuality, including power outages as a form of collective punishment.  

Find the Humor in Grim Situations

Don’t focus on the negatives; there is no point or wisdom in that. Emphasizing the grimness of a situation can only contribute to the feeling of defeat and powerlessness that are already generated by the lockdown. There will be plenty of time in which you can look back, reflect, and even bemoan your unfortunate circumstance.

But, during the curfew itself is when you actually need your sense of humor most. Take things lightly - laugh at your miserable situation, if you must. Forgive yourself for not being perfect, for panicking when you should have been composed, or for forcing your younger brother to gamble his underwear when he runs out of Dutch candy.

Difficult situations can offer the kind of scenarios that can be interpreted in two extreme ways: either extremely tragic or extremely funny; opt for the latter whenever you can, because as long as you laugh, as long as your spirit remains unbroken, your humanity remains intact.

Lesson number six: Be funny, don’t take life too seriously, share a laugh with others, and let humor inject hope in every hour and every day of your quarantine.

Hold Tighter to Your Faith

Whether you are Muslim, Christian, Jewish, or any other faith; whether you are an atheist, agnostic, or practice any form of spirituality, philosophy or belief system, find comfort in your faith and beliefs.

Since all mosques in our refugee camp were shut down, if not raided during a military curfew, the call for prayer, which we heard five times during each day, was permanently silenced.

To keep the call for prayer going, we would sneak to the roof of our houses, carefully scan the area for any Israeli soldiers, and collectively make the call for prayer whenever it was required. Volunteers included my English teacher, who was communist and claimed that he did not believe in God, myself, and Nabil, the neighbor boy with the massive head and the most unpleasant voice.

In curfews, we developed a different relationship with God: He became a personal and more intimate companion, as we often prayed in total darkness, whispered our verses so very cautiously as not to be heard by pesky soldiers. And, even those who hardly prayed before the curfew kept up with all five prayers during the lockdown.

Lesson number seven: Let your values guide you during your hours of loneliness. And if you volunteer to make a call for prayer (or recite your religious hymns) please be honest with yourself: if you have no sense of rhythm or if your voice has the pitch of an angry alley cat, for God’s sake, leave the job to someone else.

In Conclusion ..

I hope that under no circumstances you will ever hear these ominous words: “You are now under curfew. Anyone who violates orders will be shot immediately.” I also hope that this COVID-19 quarantine will make us kinder to each other and will make us emerge from our homes better people, ready to take on global challenges while united in our common faith, collective pain and a renewed sense of love for our environment.

And when it’s all over, think of Palestine, for her people have been ‘quarantined’ for 71 years and counting.

by Ramzy Baroud

[thetruthseekerway]

Quarantine: A Palestinian Guide to Survival

New Post has been published on https://www.truth-seeker.info/quran-science-2/quarantine-a-palestinian-guide-to-survival/

Quarantine: A Palestinian Guide to Survival

By Ramzy Baroud

Quarantine: A Palestinian Guide to Survival

Call it a ‘quarantine’, a ‘shelter-in-place’, a ‘lockdown’ or a ‘curfew’, we Palestinians have experienced them all, though not at all voluntarily.

Personally, the first 23 years of my life were lived in virtual ‘lockdown’. My father’s ‘quarantine’ was experienced much earlier, as did his father’s ‘shelter-in-place’ before him. They both died and were buried in Gaza’s cemeteries without ever experiencing true freedom outside of their refugee camp in Gaza.

Currently in Gaza, the quarantine has a different name. We call it ‘siege’, also known as ‘blockade’.

In fact, all of Palestine has been in a state of ‘lockdown’ since the late 1940s when Israel became a state and the Palestinian homeland was erased by Zionist colonialists with the support of their Western benefactors.

That lockdown intensified in 1967 when Israel, now a powerful state with a large army and strong allies, occupied the remaining parts of Palestine – East Jerusalem, the West Bank and the Gaza Strip.

Under this lockdown, the Palestinian freedom of movement was curtailed to the extent that Palestinians required permits from the Israeli military to leave the Occupied Territories or to return home, to move about from one town to the other, and, at times, to cross a single Israeli military checkpoint or a fortified wall.

In Palestine, we don’t call our imprisonment a lockdown, but a ‘military occupation’ and ‘apartheid’.

As for ‘shelter-in-place’, in Palestine, we have a different name for it. We call it a ‘military curfew’.

Since I was a child, I learned to listen intently to orders barked out by Israeli military officers as they swept through our refugee camp in Gaza declaring or easing military curfews. This ritual often happened late at night.

“People of Nuseirat, per orders of the Israeli military you are now under curfew. Anyone who violates orders will be shot immediately,” the terrifying words, always communicated through a loudspeaker in broken Arabic, were a staple during the First Palestinian Uprising (Intifada) of 1987.

The period between 1987 to 1993 was a virtual ‘lockdown’. Thousands of people, mostly children, were killed for failing to respect the rules of their collective imprisonment.

In Gaza, even when a full military curfew was not in place, we rarely left our small and crowded neighborhoods, let alone our refugee camps. We were all haunted by the fear that we may not be able to make it home by 8p.m., the time designated by the Israeli military for all of us to return home.

Every day, ten or fifteen minutes after the nightly curfew set in, we would hear the crackling and hissing of bullets as they whistled through the air from various distances. Automatically, we would conclude that some poor soul – a worker, a teacher, or a rowdy teenager – missed his chance by a few minutes, and paid a price for it.

Now that nearly half of the population of planet Earth are experiencing some form of ‘curfew’ or another, I would like to share a few suggestions on how to survive the prolonged confinement, the Palestinian way.

Think Ahead

Since we knew that a complete lockdown, or a military curfew, was always pending, we tried to anticipate the intensity and duration of it and prepare accordingly.

For example, when the Israeli army killed one or more refugees, we knew in advance that mass protests would follow, thus more killings. In these situations, a curfew was imminent.

Number one priority was to ensure that all family members congregated at home or stayed within close proximity so that they could rush in as fast as possible when the caravan of Israeli military jeeps and tanks came thundering, opening fire at anyone or anything within sight.

Lesson number one: Always think ahead and prepare for a longer lockdown than the initial one declared by your city or state.

Stay Calm

My father had a bad temper, although a very kind heart. When curfews were about to start, he would enter into a near-panic state. A chain smoker with obsessive, although rational fear that one of his five boys would eventually be killed, he would walk around the house in a useless rush, not knowing what to do next.

Typically, my mother would come in, rational and calculating. She would storm the kitchen to assess what basic supplies were missing, starting with the flour, sugar and olive oil.

Knowing that the first crackdown by the Israelis would be on water supplies and electricity, she would fill several plastic containers of water, designating some for tea, coffee and cooking, and others for dishes and washing clothes.

Per her orders, we would rush to the nearby stores to make small but necessary purchases – batteries for the flashlight and the transistor radio, cigarettes for my dad, and a few VHS videotapes which we would watch over and again, whether the curfew lasted for a few days or a few weeks.

Lesson number two: Take control of the situation – do not panic – and assign specific responsibilities to every family member. This strengthens the family unit and sets the stage for collective solidarity desperately required under these circumstances.

Preserve Your Water

I cannot emphasize this enough. Even if you think that a water crisis is not impending, do not take chances.

It is easy to feel invincible and fully prepared on the first day of quarantine – or military curfew. Many times, we lived to regret that false sense of readiness, as we drank too much tea or squandered our dishwashing water supplies too quickly.

In this case, you have a serious problem, especially during the summer months when you cannot count on rainwater to make up for the deficit.

Years after the end of the Intifada, my father revealed to us that many a time, him and mom used the rainwater they collected in buckets throughout the house, including the leaked roofs for our drinking supplies, even when there was no electricity or gas to boil the water beforehand.

In retrospect, this explains the many bouts of diarrhea we experienced, despite his assurances that they had painstakingly removed all bird droppings from the salvaged water.

Lesson number three: Cautiously use your water supplies during a quarantine, and never, under any circumstance, drink rainwater or, at least, keep diarrhea pills handy.

Ration Your Food

The same logic that applies to water applies to food. It goes without saying that any acquired food would have to cover the basics first. For example, flour, which we used to make bread, comes before bananas, and sugar, which we consumed abundantly with tea, comes before Dutch candy.

I made that mistake more than once, not because of my love for the imported Dutch candy which we purchased from Abu Sa’dad’s store, located in the center of the camp. The truth is, my brothers and I played a strange form of candy poker which kept us entertained for many hours. I dreaded running out of my precious supplies before the curfew was over, thus subjugating myself to potential humiliation of having to auction everything else I owned – including my small radio – to stay in the game.

My poor mother was devastated numerous times by the horrible choices we made when we rushed to buy ‘essentials’.

Lesson number four: Agree in advance on what classifies as ‘essential food’, and consume your food in a rational way. Also, if you are lucky enough to locate Dutch candy in whatever version of the Abu Sa’dad’s store, in your town, do not gamble it all in one day.

Find Sources of Entertainment

If electricity is still available, then you still have the option of watching television. For us, Indian movies, especially those starring Amitabh Bachchan, were the number one option. Imagine my disappointment when our beloved movie star, who helped us through numerous military curfews in Gaza, was photographed grinning with right-wing Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu during the latter’s visit to India in 2018.

If electricity is cut off, be ready with alternative options: books, free wrestling, living-room soccer (with the ball preferably made from stuffed-up socks contributed by all family members), and, of course, candy poker.

Lesson number five: The key is to have more than one form of entertainment and to be prepared for every eventuality, including power outages as a form of collective punishment.

Find the Humor in Grim Situations

Don’t focus on the negatives; there is no point or wisdom in that. Emphasizing the grimness of a situation can only contribute to the feeling of defeat and powerlessness that are already generated by the lockdown. There will be plenty of time in which you can look back, reflect, and even bemoan your unfortunate circumstance.

But, during the curfew itself is when you actually need your sense of humor most. Take things lightly – laugh at your miserable situation, if you must. Forgive yourself for not being perfect, for panicking when you should have been composed, or for forcing your younger brother to gamble his underwear when he runs out of Dutch candy.

Difficult situations can offer the kind of scenarios that can be interpreted in two extreme ways: either extremely tragic or extremely funny; opt for the latter whenever you can, because as long as you laugh, as long as your spirit remains unbroken, your humanity remains intact.

Lesson number six: Be funny, don’t take life too seriously, share a laugh with others, and let humor inject hope in every hour and every day of your quarantine.

Hold Tighter to Your Faith

Whether you are Muslim, Christian, Jewish, or any other faith; whether you are an atheist, agnostic, or practice any form of spirituality, philosophy or belief system, find comfort in your faith and beliefs.

Since all mosques in our refugee camp were shut down, if not raided during a military curfew, the call for prayer, which we heard five times during each day, was permanently silenced.

To keep the call for prayer going, we would sneak to the roof of our houses, carefully scan the area for any Israeli soldiers, and collectively make the call for prayer whenever it was required. Volunteers included my English teacher, who was communist and claimed that he did not believe in God, myself, and Nabil, the neighbor boy with the massive head and the most unpleasant voice.

In curfews, we developed a different relationship with God: He became a personal and more intimate companion, as we often prayed in total darkness, whispered our verses so very cautiously as not to be heard by pesky soldiers. And, even those who hardly prayed before the curfew kept up with all five prayers during the lockdown.

Lesson number seven: Let your values guide you during your hours of loneliness. And if you volunteer to make a call for prayer (or recite your religious hymns) please be honest with yourself: if you have no sense of rhythm or if your voice has the pitch of an angry alley cat, for God’s sake, leave the job to someone else.

In Conclusion

I hope that under no circumstances you will ever hear these ominous words: “You are now under curfew. Anyone who violates orders will be shot immediately.” I also hope that this COVID-19 quarantine will make us kinder to each other and will make us emerge from our homes better people, ready to take on global challenges while united in our common faith, collective pain and a renewed sense of love for our environment.

And when it’s all over, think of Palestine, for her people have been ‘quarantined’ for 71 years and counting.

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Ramzy Baroud is a journalist and the Editor of The Palestine Chronicle. He is the author of five books. His latest is “These Chains Will Be Broken: Palestinian Stories of Struggle and Defiance in Israeli Prisons” (Clarity Press, Atlanta). Dr. Baroud is a Non-resident Senior Research Fellow at the Center for Islam and Global Affairs (CIGA), Istanbul Zaim University (IZU).

His website is www.ramzybaroud.net.