Thursday, 12/10/2023 is a date that is unforgetable, I remember it very well. A few days after the beginning of the war on Gaza, I was visiting my family’s house, which is located in Haret Jaber near Al-Ibrahimi Mosque, which is normally a closed military zone, so imagine the situation with the war. I was three months pregnant with my first child Suddenly, I felt a severe pain accompanied by few bleedings, I thought at first that it was simple, but as soon as it got worse, I went to the hospital with my family members, the occupation army was standing right next to the house, as my parents’ house overlooks the main street and the settlers constantly pass by it and practice their orgy on the Palestinians there. As soon as we tried to go out the door, the occupation soldiers started yelling at us and prevented us from moving, the more time passed the more the yelling increased, the more I was afraid and confused, and the more bleeding increased. It was the most difficult moment in my life, I felt my soul is moving out of my body.” I went through a fit of hysterical screaming, begging the occupation soldiers to let us pass, “It was an appeal to their moral compass, with the hope of preserving the life of the unborn” but this attempt was unsuccessful. “Every time they threatened us with beating and raised their weapon in our face, until I lost my baby. A feeling of helplessness, lack of resourcefulness, and sorrow that cannot be described. It is unreasonable to lose my child just because the occupation soldiers refused to allow the ambulance, which is standing a few meters away from me, to pass except after two hours of waiting, after it was too late and I lost my child permanently. Today, I am very afraid of going to my parents’ house, as they have succeeded in turning the place closest to my heart into a place that reminds me of the hardest situation I have experienced in my life. Every time I go there, I remember that I lost a piece of me here, and the occupation barriers is the reason behind my baby’s death.”

At 11:00 AM, my cousin and I were going to the clinic for treatment as she was sick. We arrived at the grocery store in our neighborhood, saw my father walking towards us with someone else. The soldier saw us and stopped us from proceeding. He told us that my father should come and speak with him. My father came and told the soldier that we were going to the doctor, and the soldier responded that “You can go down from the street, but you have to go down from the rough terrain.” We went down from the rough terrain, and we were walking towards the clinic. On our way back, the soldier returned to us and again prohibited us from proceeding. I told the soldier that we already passed him a few moments ago and that we were allowed, but he started yelling at us. We went back and saw a young man standing there. He told us to wait a moment, then he went back and let us proceed. Then I told my mother that the soldier refused to let us pass. My mother asked me to call my father to come to the aid, but he told us that he was already walking towards us. We tried to pass with him, but the soldier started yelling at us again. My relative told the soldier that our house was nearby, and he spoke with him in Hebrew. The soldier raised the weapon and shouted at us, “Go back or I will shoot you.” We were terrified of him. My father went to the soldier and shouted at him. We went back home in fear. We were on our way to a baby party. She started crying with fear and yelling. We stayed there for ten minutes. My father told us that they would let us pass after an hour. So, we took my father to our neighbors’ house. After half an hour, we looked from the door to see if the soldier was still there. He was singing, laughing and making fun of himself. After an hour, we went to the neighbors’ house. I was very nervous, so I drank some water and left the house. I returned home with my father. The soldier was smiling and drinking juice. I arrived home terrified and scared because I experienced this kind of fear for the first time in my life. I couldn’t sleep well.

At 9:00 AM, my daughter was very sick and her temperature was very high, around 39-40C degrees. I had to leave the house to take her to the clinic. A soldier saw me and started yelling at me. He was very upset and his behavior was unnatural. He started wandering and talking about going to the house. I was trying to explain to him that my daughter is sick and I need to go treat her. He pushed me against the wall and beat me for a few seconds. Then he calmed down and started dragging me to the house. I feel so scared because at that time of the day,the curfew started. But I was forced to go out to treat my daughter. By coincidence, a young man saw me frightened and confused, and he spoke to the soldier. Then the soldier asked the young man to speak to my husband. My husband and my brother-in-law came to support my husband. The soldier told them that it is forbidden to be out during curfew. He pointed a gun at my husband, and he told him that he would take him into custody. My husband told him he was part of the family, and the soldier began to abuse them, and he was yelling at them that it is not allowed to be out during curfew. After that, a lot of people came to help us, and the soldier started yelling at them and threatening them that if they didn’t leave, he would blind my husband and tie his hands. My heart felt like it was stopping from the sadness and my body got tense, which is normal. I saw my whole life pass by and I started to cry. My family was scared that something might happen to me so they went back to their homes and watched over me from a distance. I spent hours under the sun and nobody would approach me or talk to me. I felt dizzy and thirsty from the sunlight. I’m an elderly woman, lying under the sun for four hours and I asked for a glass of water but they wouldn’t give it to me. They had no mercy or conscience. My mental health deteriorated because of them. I became too afraid to even walk outside and I’ve been sick for a while because of the sun exposure and captivity.

I am a resident of a closed military zone; I have been living there for 49 years and has experienced worse times since the 1973 war. I have never felt unsafe before the war. Since the Israeli aggression on Gaza on October 7^th, 2023 I have stopped feeling safe, and my children have also stopped feeling safe. My older son leaving the town to marry. My younger son stays with me as his life is at risk with the existence of the Israeli soldiers around. The Israeli soldiers arrested him multiple times, made him wait outside till 7 pm, forced him to remove his clothes, and left him in the cold and rain. Due to all these incidents, our neighborhood has become a ghost town, with no shops open and no movement of people. My sons and their families are afraid to visit me and they live in fear. This caused force displacement of my family and neighbors from their homes. I am concerned about the safety of my children and their future prospects in the region. I love my home and my desire to stay there, but I am also aware of the dangers and hardships I face. I feel like I am a prisoner in my own home, filled with grief, anxiety, and fear. I feel disconnected from my community and my loved ones. The occupation has created a new reality for us, one we cannot escape. My sadness and fear for my son’s future because of the ongoing occupation and its policies. I feel trapped in my own home, unable to move or provide a safe and secure future for my sons. Her words highlight the impact of the Israeli occupation on individuals and families, stripping them of their basic rights and forcing them to live in constant fear and uncertainty.

My wedding was delayed due to the Israeli aggression on Gaza that started on October 7^th, 2023. The war caused a lockdown, preventing me from attending my school, and making the economic situation difficult for my family. My fiancé began to mistreat me by being late to visits, going through checkpoints, and starting arguments. He ultimately requested a divorce and left me. These actions were solely due to the stress of the war and the circumstances surrounding his experiences at checkpoints. The occupation took everything from me. It destroyed my joy and the idea that any guy would come from outside the area to propose to me became something difficult to reach. It became something difficult to do, or to leave the area, like any other people. Many people left to continue their lives and build their future. I hope for the best and to return to my life in a normal way after losing my fiancé and my education, to return and see my future again.

Before the war, life was normal, nothing out of the ordinary. Every day I would pass through the military checkpoint and be searched, and if they found anything suspicious, they would close the checkpoint, curse at me and accuse me of being a spy. That was the policy they would use to terrorize us. Ever since the war started on October 7, things changed for the worse, each day we face hardship at checkpoints, traveling and working, even in our own homes we are constantly living in fear of the soldiers and the settlers. Even today I am scared to go to work after the incident I experienced. It was a normal day, at 8 p.m., I was on my way to work. My family usually kept an eye on the street to check if there were any settlers or soldiers in the area, especially around the checkpoints. This time there was no one, I proceeded to my work normally, and when I approached the checkpoint, the soldier inside the booth was shouting at people. I tried to pass the checkpoint, and when I was about to reach the checkpoint, the male soldier asked me to take off my hijab and to check if there was anything hidden inside it, even though I had just passed through the checkpoint. I didn’t respond and argued with him. He closed the gate and told me “It is forbidden to cross without taking off your dress. I am always walking through this checkpoint with my dress. He refused, kept yelling at me and told me “You need to take off your dress right now.” I refused to do so and he started harassing me. He threatened to shot me if I did not take off my dress in front of him. I asked him to bring a female soldier, he refused and insisted on taking off my dress. I screamed  the one who spoke and they got mad and they started to yell at the soldier to stay away and leave me alone. The soldier started to look around and said that I am the one causing trouble and he informed the officer. The officer came, the soldier started to avoid everything and said that I am the one who started to cause trouble and the officer took him aside. I don’t know what they talked about and then the soldier came and let me pass. I went to work and I called him a traitor for what happened with me, because I was alone at the gate and if I weren’t a bit strong, I wouldn’t be able to handle it. Before me, they killed a lot and every time I have to cross the gate, I am sure that the soldier is not there because he has a grudge against me and he is ready to take revenge on me the next time. The Israeli military checkpoint is only a checkpoint, but it became a state of fear and terror for me. I tolerated and thought that at any moment the soldier would harass me as he harassed other women and I am scared every day that I pass the gate. The occupation made our lives a dark prison, and if you want your freedom you have to go out and live outside of the occupied territories. The occupation policy is imposed to make you leave your house and your family, and that’s through their racist policy and their settlers. What will I do if I leave my house? I have no other place to live, I will live with my family in this house.

When people found out that we are residents of closed military zone, they would change their minds and cancel their intentions to come to our house to propose to my daughter. They know they had to go through Israeli checkpoints. Before the Israeli aggression on Gaza on October 7^th, 2023, my daughter was engaged. But after the war, the Israelis closed all checkpoints for more than 50 days, then they opened them for specific hours a day. We were forced to go out and do the engagement ceremony at my brother-in-law’s house. When the groom came to see my daughter, he had to go to her uncle’s or aunt’s house and take furniture and belongings with him. There was no stability at all. Our house was owned but not yet furnished. We stayed at our relative’s house in the cold and rain during the winter season and my daughter could not go back to our neighborhood due to the unstable situation in the area and the closures. Every now and then, my daughter would stay at a relative’s house. The lack of stability had a big impact on us. My daughter is still in high school, and this affected her studies as she could not attend classes. This made her stay with our relatives or at our house, far from school. 

On Monday evening at 10 pm, I saw a young woman being arrested. I ran to the soldier to try and intervene, but he refused to let me get closer. He was angry that I had come to intervene and said he would arrest me. I tried to explain that the soldier did not have the right to arrest me, but he ignored me. He then asked me to bring him a phone to use. I did, and he began to arrest me and my mother and brother. We were held for 4 hours, humiliated and treated poorly. They made us stand, our hands tied behind us, and blindfolded. I could not even hear my son cry or speak. We were in such a terrible state. I can’t keep living like this. I hope the situation gets better and then I will get my parents to come live with me. I haven’t had a normal day in years. They restrict our movement, they bully us, they are afraid of us. They don’t want us here; they want this whole area to be empty. Every day, we worry about our children and our families. There is no safety, we are constantly under threat of attack. We have no protection. I can no longer live here; my business is closed because it’s forbidden to open it. I am afraid for my life and my family’s lives and I hope we can get to a place where we can live freely and safely.

The curfew is getting worse for us. In each period we hear that someone has left his house and moved outside the area. All this is because of the Israeli racist policies. One day, I was invited to my son’s place next to my house. They curfew is getting worse with each passing day, and I had to rush home as the curfew was at 10:00 PM. On my way, I was stopped by a soldier and forced to enter the house in the area, a military area. I started arguing with the soldier because he was stopping me. He told me that I am not supposed to go out in the curfew and to bring my son to him. My son opened the window, started to shout at him and argue with him. The soldier yelled at my son and told him “Who is taking pictures of the army from the window, you or your mother? If you continue to do so, you will be arrested”. Even my small son who is 7 years old was trembling with fear. My elder son refused to talk to him and told him he didn’t know him. He went and brought two more soldiers and we were all arrested and taken to the settlement next to our house at 10:30PM. He started intimidating my son and tried to convince him to tell something in front of him in order to show that he is strong. My son refused and the soldier threatened to beat him up. 
The soldier was mocking, laughing at my son’s reaction. Despite everything, my son didn’t say anything. The soldier came to handcuff my son, but I shouted and stopped him. The soldier tried with force to put handcuffs on my son, but I stopped him. He screamed at my son and started swearing at us. Then another soldier came, wearing a badge, and approached me and my younger son, trying to provoke me into saying something.
Even after that, they demanded that I kiss their hands, but I refused. I told them I wouldn’t respond. But I couldn’t help myself, I had to defend my son and respond to the soldier. My anger and sadness grew, because my son was afraid. The soldier became angry and yelled at me, until hatred filled their eyes. My legs ached from sadness. I gave up and submitted to God, while they watched us at 2 am, mocking and laughing at us, because I was late by only two minutes. And because I didn’t tell them who took photos of them. I couldn’t believe they did this to me. I’m exhausted from standing and being in fear. I tried to sleep, but I couldn’t, the pain in my head and legs wouldn’t let me. My fear for my children. All those years I lived in my house, but for the first time, I felt the threat of death and I felt helpless to protect my children. My neighbor is here today, but he won’t be murdered because of the inhumane policies of the occupation. His children are very young, it’s a shame if he gets killed. He’s building his house, and he’s going to plant trees. It’s hard to see my son suffer. I’m far from him, but I can’t bear to see him tortured. We are imprisoned, detained, or killed, all because of the occupation’s policies that destroyed our social life and separated us from each other.

At midday, the mosque loudspeakers warned of a potential attack by settlers, I quickly got dressed and rushed out of my house to find my son. I left my daughter alone at home and joined the group of young men from our neighborhood who had gathered to defend our homes. They were armed with only stones, which they used to try and fend off the settlers. I was terrified, especially when I saw the large number of settlers – over 500 – who were attacking us from the higher ground of the mountain. The settlers had an advantage, being on higher ground and using rocks and rubble to attack. They were throwing rocks and rubble directly at us, and their elevated position made it easier for them to hit their targets.
After about an hour of clashes, the settlers escalated the violence by firing live bullets. We were forced to take cover between the houses to avoid being hit, and I could hear the young men shouting for help as they tended to the injured. Ambulances were called, and I heard the sound of one resounding in the place carried away five injured people.
At around 3 pm, I decided to head home to pray and bring back water, food, and supplies for the others. As I was making my way through the middle of the road, I suddenly felt a burning sensation on my feet and fell to the ground in agony. I saw blood and realized that I had been hit by a bullet. I was too afraid to call for help, fearing that someone else would get hurt trying to assist me. So, I started crawling away from the road, trying to find a safe place to hide. My son and his cousin saw me and rushed to my aid, dodging bullets as they came to my rescue. I was so worried about their safety that I momentarily forgot about my own pain. They quickly carried me to the ambulance waiting by the road.
As I entered the ambulance, I was met with a horrific scene: six injured men, some of whom had severe head wounds. The combination of witnessing their injuries, being stuck at an army checkpoint for over two hours, and dealing with my own physical pain have been utterly overwhelming. Additionally, the sight of a young man who had been shot and was unresponsive have been particularly distressing for me, I repeatedly called out to him, praying for his recovery, and couldn’t help but think of his mother, who must have been worried about him. I felt as though I was on the brink of death.

Life before the Israeli aggression on Gaza on October 7^th, 2023 used to be much easier in terms of going in and out of the house. Despite everything: assaults, checkpoints, settlers, I never thought of leaving my town. But since the beginning of the Israeli aggression, life has changed. There are now roadblocks, increased checks and restrictions, and violations of traffic laws. All of these actions have disrupted our lives, killed our social relationships and made us feel insecure, unsafe, anxious, fearful and constantly worried. We have trouble sleeping because of the army’s frequent raids on homes. Many times, my children have been detained at checkpoints while returning from work and were held for more than 4 hours without reason, just because they were carrying military supplies. All these violations and the Israeli policy of racial discrimination forced me to marry my son off and to have him live far from the house in another neighborhood away from these violations and severe measures which I live through. This massacre, the intentional killings, the arbitrary measures and the continuation of the curfew have forced me to move with my son.
I moved to live in the same house where my son lives. I live here with my children. This occupation aims to suppress us, to impose pressure on us, and to commit the most heinous atrocities in order to deport us. This has undoubtedly impacted a lot of families, causing them to lose their homes. While I’m currently living with my son, I still feel that there is no life more beautiful than the life I had in the house where I got married. I don’t know if these measures will remain the same, and I hope to stay with my son until the situation changes.

Around 10 pm, approximately 15-20 Israeli soldiers from the Yamam unit stormed into my home without warning. We were 5 people in the house, including women and men. The soldiers broke down the door and entered my home, and I shouted at them, “What do you want from us?”
Me and my family were in one of the rooms, and the soldiers opened the door, took us out, and interrogated each of us individually. They brought with them human shields from the neighborhood youth, detained them in a room, and interrogated them while their hands were tied. They then arrested my son, interrogated him, and took him away to a military jeep, tied up and beaten, which prompted me to shout at them again. The soldiers left after two hours, having searched the house, tampered with its contents, and destroyed property.

At midday, shortly after the noon prayer, I heard the loudspeakers at the Mosque warning of an imminent attack by settlers on our village. At the time, I was busy making cheese and didn’t take the warning seriously, as we’re often threatened with such attacks. My children and I were alone at home when my mobile phone rang. It was my brother, who was frantic and screaming, telling me to evacuate the house immediately because the settlers were closing in and their numbers were overwhelming. I quickly dropped everything and rushed to gather my two young children, instructing them to take the sheep to a safe location. My 15-year-old son was tasked with taking the chickens to our master’s house in the countryside. My primary concern was the safety of our livestock, which is our sole source of income. As the children escaped with the sheep, my daughter and I were left alone in the yard, where we were pelted with large stones by the settlers. They were shouting and talking, but I couldn’t understand their words because they were speaking in Hebrew. I grabbed my daughter and ran towards the house, but as I was running, I was hit on the head from behind, which caused me to lose my balance and fall to the ground. I was hit again on the chest, and the last thing I remember is hearing my daughter’s voice calling out to me before I lost consciousness. When I came to, I found my brothers, and some young people from the village gathered around me, screaming and throwing stones to fend off the settlers. I managed to crawl to the side of the fence and lean against it, but the settlers continued to rain down stones on us.
After the afternoon prayer, the settlers began shooting at us, clearly intent on harming the people in the house. I saw the bullets flying and called out to my 17-year-old daughter, to get away from the gunfire. Unfortunately, a bullet hit my eye, and I was filled with anger and fear for her safety. I rushed to save her, but a second bullet struck my leg, and I lost consciousness. 
When I regained consciousness, I was in Ramallah Governmental Hospital, where the doctor told me I had lost a lot of blood. Thankfully, I received timely medical attention, and the operation was successful. I spent five days in the hospital under observation, sharing a room with my daughter, who was also recovering from bullet wounds.
As soon as I was discharged, I was eager to return home to my children. However, when I arrived at the house, I was met with a scene of complete destruction and chaos. The settlers had burned everything, the house, furniture, sheep, solar energy equipment, fodder, and even the water tanks were all destroyed. It was as if I was seeing my home for the first time, and my heart was broken.
I had been married for 25 years in a Bedouin village with my husband and children. We made a living by grazing and raising sheep, and our only income came from selling them. We had saved up and bought the land, built our house, and started a new life just three months prior. We were overjoyed to have a proper home, with a bathroom, kitchen, and storage facilities. My daughter was thrilled to have her own room, where she could study and pursue her dream of becoming a doctor.
The settlers’ attack had not only destroyed our home but also our sense of security and comfort. We were forced to live in a tent next to the house, which my husband had built. Although we were used to living in tents, this one was small, with only a little mattress that my brother had brought from his house. I felt sorry for my husband’s exhaustion and my daughter’s efforts to collect books and notebooks from her friends so she could study for her exams.
The people of the village were kind and supportive, bringing us some money to help us get back on our feet. However, I couldn’t help but feel afraid for myself, my children, and my husband. The settlers had not only destroyed our home but also instilled fear in our hearts, making us question our place in the village and our future.

During the Israeli occupation forces’ invasion of the camp, my family and I were subjected to physical and emotional abuses, including being held hostage, attacked by dogs, and exposed to tear gas. On that fateful night, my husband, children, and I were at home when the army surrounded our neighborhood. At around 1:15 am, they knocked on our door, and my husband went to open it, but he didn’t return. I went to investigate where did my husband go, and was pushed inside by the soldiers, who entered our home with dogs. They detained us all in one room, then separated my daughter and me from the rest of the family. The soldiers unleashed the dog on us, and it attacked us, biting my hands and tearing my clothes. My daughter and I tried to fend it off, but it was a terrifying situation. The soldiers eventually removed the dog and locked us in the room, where we were forced to endure the sounds of gunfire and stones passing overhead. When they finally left, they threw a tear gas canister into the room, causing us immense distress. We were eventually rescued by an ambulance and received medical treatment.

At 1 am, our home was invaded by Israeli soldiers, who surrounded the house and invaded our camp. The 9-hour siege was marked by gunfire and a missile attack on a neighboring residence. When the soldiers finally stormed our home, they targeted my sister and me, as my husband was not present. A large group of soldiers, accompanied by a dog, searched our home, breaking into my room, where the dog attacked me, causing me to scream in distress. The soldiers showed no empathy, laughing at my pain, and it wasn’t until 20 minutes later, when the dog bit me again, that one of the soldiers attempted to free my hand with a blade. The dog then attacked my sister before being restrained and removed. My sister and I were then held captive in a room for 12 hours, denied basic human rights, including food, water, and access to a bathroom. We eventually managed to escape and made our way to the hospital, where I received medical attention for my injured hand, which had sustained nerve damage requiring surgical intervention. Despite undergoing physiotherapy, my hand still bears the effects of the attack.

The Israeli soldiers invaded the camp, and I was alone with my one-year-old son as my husband has been imprisoned by the occupation for more than a year. When the raid began, I took my one-year-old son and went to my father-in-law’s house. The soldiers went into all the neighboring houses, then came to my father-in-law’s house, my brother-in-law’s houses, and then to my house and stayed there for long hours until 3:00 AM in the morning. After that, they all asked us to go out into the street and told us they were going to bomb, so we went out into the street. Then we heard the sound of a huge explosion that shook the area, and then I discovered that the house bombed was my home. The soldiers didn’t tell me it was my home and didn’t give me any chance to take my things, so me and my son became homeless. 
I heard loud gunfire and unusual movement in my neighborhood. My father went to investigate and found the entrance to our home filled with soldiers. The officer in charge asked for me by name, I was frozen in terror. The officer yelled at my father, telling him not to speak, and demanded to see me. I was handcuffed with iron cuffs and dragged to a room, where I was searched and stripped of my clothes. My mother was forced to dress me while I was still handcuffed. I was then taken outside, where I saw my uncle and cousins being beaten by soldiers. The officer threatened to hit me in front of my uncle, who was over 60 years old. I was left standing while the soldiers continued to beat my relatives. The soldiers then took me back to my house, searched my room, and destroyed our property. They also set fire to our stores of wheat, barley, and straw, which were located near our homes.
I was thrown into a military jeep, where I was beaten and cursed by the soldiers. They filmed me and took pictures, threatening to publish them. After about half an hour, we arrived at a police station, where I was taken to a room and forced to watch videos of killed women and burned children. The soldiers told me that Hamas was responsible for these atrocities and threatened to do the same to me. I was then taken to Ofer prison, where I was searched again and taken to a cell with two other women. We were not given food or water for a whole day, and when we asked for help, the soldiers did not respond. We were eventually given a meal, but it was inedible. We were not provided with any medical treatment, despite our injuries. 
I was subjected to daily naked searches, which were humiliating and degrading. The soldiers would search me completely, including my private parts, and make suggestive comments. I was forced to sign a statement in Hebrew, which I did not understand. I was then transferred to Damon prison, where I was held in a cell with six other women. We were not given any amenities, and our living conditions were harsh. 
After four months, I was released, but my family has continued to receive threatening phone calls from the authorities. I am still recovering from my ordeal, both physically and emotionally. I am currently undergoing training in Sharia courts as a lawyer and hope to use my experience to advocate for human rights and social justice.

In the early hours of the morning, I was suddenly awakened by loud banging on my door. When I opened it, I found more than thirty soldiers, led by a captain, who forcefully entered my home. They arrested my sons, ransacking the house and causing destruction, even breaking the pictures of my dead husband and my sons. Their intent seemed to be to ruin and intimidate. I was tied up, and the captain shouted at me to stand aside. After a few minutes, around fifteen young men from my family, including my nephews, cousins, and brothers, were also bound and blindfolded. I was overwhelmed with heartache as I witnessed them being beaten, blood streaming from their hands and heads. The house transformed into a prison, echoing with the cries of my family members in pain. After about two hours, the captain ordered their removal, and I overheard him speaking in Hebrew, which I understood to mean they were taking them away. I was blindfolded and transported in military jeep for over two hours, during which the soldiers’ shouted insults, cursing, and provoking me. Despite their attempts to instigate anger, I remained focused on seeking forgiveness from God. 
Two hours passed before the soldiers began to take action. The captain ordered them to take me away, and I was blindfolded and placed on a military jeep. The soldiers insulted me and my family, using offensive language and making derogatory remarks about my religion and beliefs. However, I remained calm and prayed to God for relief. I was taken to Damon prison, where I was interrogated by multiple officers. After half an hour, they informed me that I would be held for six months under administrative detention. 
The whole experience, from the time the soldiers entered my house to my arrival at the prison, lasted over 20 hours. I was exhausted, hungry, and thirsty, and had not taken my medication for my diabetes. When I entered the prison cell, I found 11 other prisoners, all of whom were in a more difficult situation than I was. I tried to comfort them and share my own story, but I soon felt dizzy and disoriented due to my condition. The girls in the cell were all young, some of whom I knew, and they were all being held under difficult conditions. I saw that they were beaten and mistreated, and I felt a sense of responsibility to help and support them. I started talking to each of them individually, sharing my own experiences and stories, and trying to boost their morale. I organized group sessions with the girls, encouraging them to talk about their own experiences and fears, and trying to instill in them a sense of determination and courage.

During an Israeli invasion of the camp which began at sunset and continued late into the night, at around 9 o’clock, I heard an intense knocking on the door, which felt like an earthquake. My husband quickly opened the door, but before he could even reach the gate, the soldiers broke in with incredible speed. The masked soldiers, with blackened faces and army uniforms, flooded the house. The officer in charge stormed in, knocking over the dinner table and asking about my name. When I asked what they wanted from me, the officer became aggressive, screaming at me to hand over my ID. He insulted and cursed me, and ominously threatened that I would be taken to an interrogation room that very night. My husband stood up for me, telling the officer to be quiet and not to speak about me in front of my children. The soldier slapped my husband on his face, and threatened to drag him out of the house and leave our children on the street. I decided to cooperate and provide my identification, wearing warm clothing because it was cold outside. I suspected that they would take me away. As I was led out of the house, a soldier approached me and put plastic handcuffs on my wrists, causing me immense pain. When I screamed, the soldier tightened the cuffs further and blindfolded me. He then threw me to the ground.
I arrived at a military camp, and I was left sitting on a chair, shackled, until sunset. As the sun began to set, they placed me in a patrol vehicle, continuing the same treatment. I was blindfolded, dragged, and thrown onto my stomach, all while being deprived of food and water, and using the bathroom. Eventually, I was taken to a facility surrounded by a fence and placed in a small cell. The conditions were poor; there was only a thin mattress and a blanket that reeked of dirt. The bathroom was exposed, with a bad smell coming through and it was dirty. A dripping faucet added to my discomfort, creating a constant noise that hurt my head. To block out the sound, I placed the blanket over my head and tried to sleep without proper covering, in a dimly lit room that was intermittently bright and faint.
Then, the soldiers served me a meal on a plastic plate, which included a piece of cucumber, a slice of tomato that smelled old, and a small spoonful of labneh. Despite being hungry and exhausted, I ate everything. While I was looking around, I noticed a camera above the bathroom. I thought they might be recording me, but I needed to relieve myself, so I decided to go without lifting my clothes, covering my feet instead. Afterward, I began to worry about the cameras, thinking they might use the footage to pressure my family. I started singing loudly, feeling overwhelmed and exhausted. A female soldier then took me to a search room where I was forced to remove all my clothing, leaving me completely bare, even without underwear. And every time I take off a piece of my clothes, the soldier would hit me with a stick to remove more pieces. The door to this room was opened, allowing anyone passing by to watch. Then, they took me, still handcuffed, to a room where three officers interrogated me. Their questions focused solely on my son. I refused to divulge anything about him or his friends. One officer shouted, accusing me of hiding information about my son, insisting that I tell them everything I knew about his friends. 
Every day, I was taken out of my cell, searched naked, and brought to the interrogation room. The questions were always the same: “what was my son doing, who were his friends, and what were their names?” The entire investigation focused on my son and his companions. During one interrogation, an officer took pictures of me with his phone, which I knew was meant to pressure my sons. I forced myself to remain patient and composed during the investigations, so that when my children saw me, they wouldn’t be upset.
After a week of imprisonment, the food they provided was unfit for consumption, with plates piled on top of each other. I ate out of hunger and fear of losing my balance, and drank from the tap, which tasted terrible. I had no blanket or cover, as I had used it to block the sound of the dripping tap. I was constantly worried about my 3-year-old daughter, who was attached to me, and missed her dearly.
I spent 25 days in the interrogation center, after which I was transferred to Damon prison. The rooms were overcrowded, with prisoners sleeping on top of each other. I shared a small room with 9 other prisoners, with only 7 thin mattresses and blankets. We were allowed out of our rooms for only one hour a day, and had to share the showers and washing facilities with other rooms. The prison conditions were harsh, with guards frequently spraying us with gas, which caused me chest pain for a week. The food was scarce, and we had to drink from the taps, which was either freezing in winter or boiling in summer. My weight dropped significantly due to the lack of food.
The lawyer visited me only once, informing me that he was working on a deal and that the judge has imposed a 6-year sentence, but only one year of it will be executed immediately. The remaining five years will be suspended, and I will be placed on probation. I asked him about my family, and he told me that after my arrest, the Israeli soldiers had returned to our house, broken in, and arrested my sons.
After six months, a female soldier came to my cell, told me to take only my clothes, and handcuffed me. I was taken to a room, searched in a humiliating manner, and then brought to the officer’s office. I was told that I was being released, but I would be arrested again and prisoned for five years if I conducted any political activities. I was fined 3,000 shekels and given a five-year suspended sentence, which I was grateful for. 
My fear is overwhelming, and I’m terrified that at any moment, the soldiers would raid my home and imprison me. This fear has isolated me, and I’ve stopped visiting my sisters, family, and friends, afraid of being caught and imprisoned due to my suspended sentence. The weight of this sentence hangs over me, a constant reminder that I could be taken away at any moment and imprisoned for five years. Additionally, I’m still grappling with the debt my brother owed, which we paid off with a fine of three thousand shekels.

At 4 o’clock in the morning, I was sleeping, when the Israeli soldiers attacked the house, blew up the gates, and broke almost all the furniture. There were more than one hundred soldiers deployed around the house, but the officer entered and saw my bag placed on the chair, he took it along, there was an amount of (1500) shekels, I started screaming and telling the officer that this money is for household expenses and asking him: “What do you want to do with my money?” He started screaming and gave me (200) shekels of them. After that, they seized my car without any justification, despite the fact that I purchased it through a bank loan and the bank’s payment records clearly show that I’ve been making monthly payments. In fact, I still owe the bank 42,000 shekels for the car. I tried to explain to the officer that the car is a result of my hard-earned salary, but they refused to listen and confiscated it – essentially, they stole it from me. To this day, my car remains seized, and I’ve lost the money I invested in it. I submitted all the papers proving the source of the purchase of the car and the remaining loan to the prisoners’ body to the Supreme Court, but the lawyer told me that the confiscation decision is a military decision issued by the intelligence.
 Two months after this incident, 4 military jeeps were in the yard of the house, I was surrounded by a large number of soldiers, including female soldiers, who were wearing black masks. The officer informed me that I was under arrest, took my phone and ID, and blindfolded me. I was then led away by a female soldier, and we walked for over half an hour. I was cold, disoriented, and didn’t know where I was being taken. Eventually, I recognized the voices of my husband’s relatives and realized I was at my aunt’s house. I was then placed in a small car, where I felt suffocated and my heart began to race. As a diabetic and hypertensive patient, I was in a state of distress.
After being dropped off, I was eventually taken to see a doctor, who was wearing a military uniform. I informed her of my health conditions and high blood pressure, but she didn’t provide any treatment. Instead, I was transferred to a hospital without a name, where I was shackled to the bed and guarded by soldiers. My blood pressure remained high, and I experienced shortness of breath. After two days, I was taken to Hasharon prison, where I was interrogated briefly and charged with belonging to a hostile entity and threatening state security. I was given an administrative ruling of four months without trial or the presence of a lawyer. I was then transferred to a dirty, filthy room with blood-stained walls and a slug-infested floor. The soldiers subjected me to physical and verbal abuse, including hitting me with a stick that delivered electric shocks, searching me twice while I was naked, and forcing me to repeat phrases that humiliated me.
I was eventually transferred to Damon Prison, where I was kept in a small room with two other prisoners. We were allowed only one hour of exercise per day and were isolated from the outside world and each other. The rooms were often sprayed with gas, causing poisoning and respiratory problems. We were not provided with adequate clothing, including underwear, and were forbidden from practicing our religious rites.
The most painful experience during my detention was knowing of my brother’s sudden death from a heart stroke. I was devastated and struggled to cope with the news. After serving my administrative ruling, I was finally released after three months. I appeal to women’s organizations to expose the Israeli violations against prisoners, particularly those serving administrative sentences without charge, and to highlight the cases of prisoners who suffer from health conditions and need medical treatment.