Btselem / 31 March 2024

I live with my family in the village of Qusrah, southeast of the city of Nablus. I work in the Jericho area, picking dates.

On 4 November 2023, I woke up around 2:00 A.M., when I heard voices near my house. I looked through the bedroom window, on the second floor of the house, and noticed several soldiers trying to open the front door. I woke up my wife, Rinad Hassan, 38, and asked her to put on her hijab and wear appropriate clothes, because the army was going to invade the house. I woke up all our children, too, so they wouldn’t be frightened: Yusef, 15, Sanaa, 13, Ahmad, 10, Janat, 10, and ‘Omar, 6.

When we got off the bus, a soldier said to us: “Welcome to hell.”

The soldiers broke the lock on the door and broke into the house. There were more than 15 soldiers, and they pointed their guns at us. One of the soldiers ordered me in Arabic to hand over my ID and cell phone. He asked me what my name was, and I answered that he had the ID card and could find out my name from it, and then he screamed at me to answer the question.

The soldiers went into all the rooms, rummaged through things, and threw everything on the floor. In my son Yusef’s room, there were pictures of people from our village who’d been killed. They were killed by the settlers at the beginning of the war in Gaza. The soldiers tore up the pictures. One of the soldiers brought me a picture of one of the guys who died and said to me: “What is this?” I told him: “These are our relatives, residents of the village who were killed.” He said to me: “Then take care of your son.” I told him: “He’s a young boy, and he felt sad for the dead.” Then he screamed at me again: “Take care of your son!”

Then they led me outside the house and asked me about my brother Ibrahim, 25. I told them I didn’t know where he was. The soldiers had already raided my mother’s house a few days earlier, asking for Ibrahim; but he wasn’t home. We don’t know where he is. The soldier led me to some jeeps that were parked about 200 meters away from the house. Once there, they handcuffed and blindfolded me, and then one of the soldiers hit me on the back with his gun and pushed me forcefully towards the jeep. There were about 11 soldiers in the jeep, and during the ride, they punched me, hit me with their guns and kicked me, until we arrived at the Migdalim settlement. I knew where I was, because the settlement is close to our village, and it didn’t take more than a few minutes to get there. After about an hour, I was transferred from there to the Huwarah military camp.

he ordered me to kiss the flag while I was being filmed. There were about 20 soldiers in the room

When entering the camp, I and other detainees went through a process that included a strip search, fully naked, and a scan with a hand-held metal detector. There were five soldiers there, and a pair of detainees per room. During the search, the soldiers kicked, swore and humiliated us.

I spent one night in Huwarah, and on the next day, we were taken to Salem. On the way to the bus, we had to walk hunched over and put our hands on the back of the person in front of us. When we got on the bus, with hands and legs tied, soldiers beat us and swore at us. They cursed God and the Prophet and told us: “Let’s see how the resistance benefits you now.” We were transferred to Megiddo Prison. We were about 16 detainees. Then they took us in for interrogation one by one. When it was my turn, the interrogator asked me about my brother Ibrahim and told me to turn him in. I told him I didn’t know where he was and that he didn’t have a phone. The interrogator said: “That’s your problem. He’s your brother and you have to turn him in.” I told the interrogator: “I won’t do it. It’s his business. He’s old enough and responsible for himself.” That was the end of the interrogation. After the interrogation, we were taken back to the bus, and at that point, our hands weren’t in cuffs. The detainees were called by name, and we had to answer without raising our heads. One of the detainees raised his head, and then the guard cursed his mother and sister. The detainee answered him with the same curse: “Your sister and mother are no better than my mother and sister.” Then the guard shoved him and said: “I’ll make sure the dog plays between your legs at Megiddo.” From there, we were taken to Megiddo. When we got off the bus, a soldier said to us: “Welcome to hell.” One of the detainees, a resident of Jenin, told the soldier “Welcome to Jenin”. He answered him: “We’ll soon find out.”

I told one of the soldiers: “I’m not going to take my clothes off in front of the [female] soldiers,” and he replied: “Shut your mouth.”

At admission, we were strip-searched again, fully naked. The most humiliating thing was that it was three female soldiers who did the search. I told one of the soldiers: “I’m not going to take my clothes off in front of the [female] soldiers,” and he replied: “Shut your mouth.” I had no choice but to obey them. The detainees went into the search, that was conducted by five male and female soldiers, two at a time. Of course, during the search, there was swearing, beating and kicking of the legs, on the pretext that we had to spread our legs wider. These kicks knocked people down on the floor. Then, they took us to the doctor, where they asked us the usual questions, i.e. if we had any medical conditions or take any medication. Then they took pictures of us and then they took us into the Shin Bet [Israel Security Service] one by one. There was a huge Israeli flag on the wall. The first question the Shin Bet officer asked was: “Which organization do you belong to?” Then he ordered me to kiss the flag while I was being filmed. There were about 20 soldiers in the room. I told the officer I wouldn’t do it, and he said, “You have to kiss the flag.” I told him “No, I don’t want to.” Suddenly, the 20 soldiers in the room started beating me. They hit me all over my body with whatever they could find. One of them kicked me in the head, and I passed out. They were still beating me when I came to. Then they made me stand and took pictures of me with the flag behind me. I was taken out of the room and beaten again until I passed out again.

I woke up when someone said: “He’s dead, he’s dead,” in Hebrew, “Get away from him.” He told me to get up and wash my face in the bathroom. I saw that my whole body was covered in blood. I was bleeding from the nose, mouth and head too. He told me in Arabic not to talk about what happened. It was one of the prison guards.

They had me sit in the next room, and I kept hearing other detainees being beaten and screaming. All the detainees came out of there bleeding and injured. Two of the detainees had broken eyeglasses; one of them is from Nablus, and I don’t know where the other is from.

Then they moved us to the cells that had terrible conditions. The cells were small, and there were a lot of detainees. We were about 12 detainees in a cell that only had four beds. The rest slept on the floor on thin mattresses. All we had was very thin blankets. We couldn’t sleep. I had chest pain, to the extent that I couldn’t stand up. My back and head hurt too. I asked to go to the infirmary, but they wouldn’t let me. They gave me one Tylenol per day, but I didn’t take it. There was a detainee with us from Balatah R.C. who was seriously injured and in terrible pain. He had open wounds, and the only treatment he got was cream for his wounds once a week, which was enough for only one application. I gave him the Tylenol they gave me, because he was suffering a lot.

That’s how I slept, sitting up, because I had strong chest pain when I lay down

We suffered terribly from the cold. The windows were open, and there were not enough blankets and clothes. We put the mattresses next to each other, so we could put the blankets on top of each other while we slept to keep a little warmer. Each detainee only had the clothes they had on them. There was no change of clothes. We stayed in the same clothes for several weeks without being able to change. I heard from one of the detainees that he had been wearing the same clothes for more than 50 days. When we tried to wash our clothes, there was not enough space to hang them. There was a small space for hanging, and it took a very long time for the clothes to dry, because there was no sun in the cells. The stench in the cells was really strong. The toilet was inside the cell, and there was a constant leak from the toilet and the sink. The mattresses were smelly, and so were the blankets. No matter how much we tried to clean the cell - it didn’t help. We tried to clean with shampoo, because there was nothing else. When we didn’t have shampoo, we tried using toothpaste to clean. Of course, there were no pillows. I would fold the mattress to put my head on something like a pillow. I couldn’t sleep because they would turn on the light from 7:00 P.M. to 5:00 A.M. every day. I put the mattress on the floor and rested my head on a pillar in the middle of the room. That’s how I slept, sitting up, because I had strong chest pain when I lay down. After about a week, I was taken to the prison infirmary. I understood from the doctor that I had three broken ribs, and the only treatment was rest.

They’d transfer us to a different cell every few days. I was in a cell with a detainee from the Jaba’ area, whose leg and ribs were broken. He suffered a lot, especially when he needed to go to the bathroom. I’d go to the bathroom with him to help him, and wait until he finished and came out, and then I’d take him to his mattress. He was in really bad shape.

The food was terrible and there wasn’t enough of it to live, just not to die. Things half-cooked in water, without salt or seasoning. There was no fruit, and there was nothing nutritious, just a little bit of rice, and that’s it. We only ate so we wouldn’t die, because we were very hungry. We had no way to make tea or coffee. From what I gathered from the other detainees, all the detainees’ belongings were confiscated at the beginning of the war in Gaza. There was nothing left in the cells, no kettle, no hotplate for cooking. They also confiscated all the food and cans that were in the cells, including things the detainees bought with their own money in the canteen, and also the radio and TV, so we knew almost nothing about what was happening outside the prison. We got updates about the situation only when a new detainee arrived. We would all gather around him to hear what was happening on the outside, and if there was going to be a prisoner exchange deal - hoping our suffering would end.

We got no visits, either from lawyers or the ICRC. From what I gathered from the detainees, only Israeli lawyers were allowed to visit. Court sessions were only on Zoom.

On 13 November 2023, at 11:00 P.M., I was released from prison and taken to Jalameh Checkpoint. I hitched a ride and arrived in the Haris area at 1:30 A.M. I called my wife’s father, and he came to drive me home. My brother, ‘Abd al-Basset, 34, who was also arrested at his home in November 2023, is still in detention to this day. He was also arrested to put pressure on Ibrahim to turn himself in, but we still don’t know where he’s being held.

* Testimony given to B’Tselem field researcher Salma a-Deb’i on 31 March 2024