Ved Beita er den 12 årig palestinske gutten Mohammed Al Alami blitt skutt mens han satt inne i farens bil. Helt unødvendig skyter IDF på bilen bakfra mens den kjører BORT fra et område:
- 10 hull i bilen .... 3 treff i gutten
Og IDF lyver om hendelsen ... det viser videoopptak.
Soldatene som løp ettter bilen og skjøt må stilles til ansvar.
Ved Beita er den palestinske rørlegger Shadi Salim skutt og drept ... han hadde en rørtang i hånden. IDF- soldater trodde det var en jernstang.
Den drepte var på jobb med et oppdrag ... han var på vei til koblingsstasjonen utendørs for Beitas vannforsyning ... men det hjalp ikke for IDF-soldatene.
På toppen av det hele:
IDF nekter å utlevere liket til denne uskyldig drepte rørlegger.
Så han kan ikke begraves.
Rørlegger Shadi Salim var 41 år, gift og hadde barn.
Ved Beita skyter IDF nåomdagen med skarp ammunisjon først ... og spør etterpå.
Der er det drept uskyldige palestinere nesten hver dag i det siste.
..........................
Ny info
12. august i Haaretzartikkel:
1) Liket av rørleggeren er frigitt etter press på IDF fra israelske politikere
2) Ny palestiner skutt av IDF ved Beita ... far til 5. IDF "undersøker" hva som skjedde
A Palestinian Plumber Was Shot Dead by Israeli Troops While Trying to Fix a Water Outage
Alex LevacAugust 06, 2021
The
press conference, if you can call it that, was pathetic. Sad. Hopeless.
Some two dozen elderly men – functionaries of the Palestinian Authority
and local notables, together with the bereaved father and the grieving
son – stood at the entrance to their village under the broiling noontime
sun, holding large posters. The microphones of local television
stations were passed from hand to hand, the speeches were delivered, the
lofty rhetoric was uttered – and everyone knew that their words were
just blowing in the wind.
The setting, too, was pathetic. The demonstrators were poised between
the village’s wholesale produce market and its stone-cutting factory,
amid putrid piles of rotting fruit, mostly mango, and the refuse of the
factory. Behind them was parked a truck that carried the inscription, in
Hebrew, as though by invitation, “Millions of people can’t be wrong” –
the slogan of the St. Moritz company, which manufactures cleaning and
pest-extermination products.
Whether millions are right or wrong, this village, Beita, which lies
between Tapuah Junction and Nablus in the West Bank, declared the start
of a campaign for the return of the body of one of its finest sons, the
village plumber, Shadi Shurafi. He was killed last week on Tuesday
evening by Israel Defense Forces soldiers from the Kfir Brigade – as he
stood next to what are apparently the village’s main water valves, down
the road from its entrance, holding a monkey wrench.
The leaders of the village and the PA officials have threatened that
until the family of the deceased plumber receives his body for burial,
there will be no quiet around here. According to the officials, Israel
is – appallingly – holding the remains of about 300 Palestinians, within
the framework of the profiteering from bodies that’s going on, which is
supposedly intended to bring about the return by Hamas of the remains
of two IDF soldiers killed in the Gaza Strip in 2014, Lt. Hadar Goldin
and Staff Sgt. Oron Shaul.
Everyone knows that the soldiers’ bodies, as well as the two captive
Israeli civilians being held in Gaza, will be returned only in exchange
for live Palestinian prisoners serving time in Israeli jails. But why
not hoard bodies and ratchet up the pain of the families of the
Palestinian dead?
Saad
Shurafi, at the site where his brother Shadi was killed. A war has
ensued over the return of the plumber’s body. Alex Levac
Residents of the militant village of Beita don’t intend to give in
any time soon: They are convinced their plumber did nothing to justify
being shot with live ammunition, while he was clearly on the job. During
the press conference, which was comprised of a collection of
declarations for the local media of Hawara and environs, Shurafi’s son,
13-year-old Leith, faced the cameras with a grim look, while the
deceased’s father, Omar, fought hard to keep himself from bursting into
tears.
The two were positioned below a stone monument bearing a map of
Palestine, which functions like the gateway to the village. That
morning, two IDF jeeps were parked at the entrance to the village, a few
hundred meters away. The army knows in advance about every gathering
that takes place here. A Palestinian ambulance was also on the scene,
waiting for developments. Five Palestinian demonstrators have been killed here
in the past few weeks, in the battle over the land of the nearby
Evyatar settler outpost, which was forcibly taken away from several
villages in the area. Four of those killed were from Beita, and now the
plumber has been added to the list.
Speakers at the press conference on Monday, when we visited, were a
reflection of the PA itself. Weary, expressionless, they delivered their
spiels on autopilot. There was a representative of the Palestinian
Ministry of Information, officials from other ministries and alongside
them the omnipresent Khairi Hannoun, 62, a demonstrator from Anabta. He
attends demonstrations throughout the West Bank wearing traditional
Palestinian attire, a Palestinian flag attached to his cane and a
keffiyeh on his head. He’s been dubbed the “Palestinian George Floyd,”
because last September an Israeli soldier struck him while another
pressed on Hannoun’s throat with his foot. Hannoun came out of it better
than the original Floyd, and now he’s at the Beita demonstration.
At the conclusion of the speeches, we watched as the participants
started marching toward the soldiers. Another army jeep was summoned and
also some soldiers on foot, who took up positions along the road. The
elderly demonstrators walked, arms linked, chanting, “With blood and
fire we will redeem you, O martyr.” A few meters from the soldiers they
stopped. A moment later the soldiers fired two tear-gas canisters at
them, but the protesters held their ground despite the frightening noise
and the stinging gas. They stood mutely opposite the soldiers, who
behaved with relative restraint, possibly because they see that the
demonstrators are the same age as their own grandfathers.
These soldiers are the children of our friends and the friends of our
children, and now we were standing opposite them, blending in with the
residents of Beita who are fighting to get a body back. These people are
the “Goldins of Beita,” but without the publicized journeys abroad and
PR machine of the Israeli family of one of the two soldiers whose remains have been held in Gaza
for seven years. Israeli flags flap in the breeze on the lampposts on
the main access road to the village, as though this were sovereign
Israeli territory.
Leith, Shadi Shurafi's son, at the site of his father's death. Alex Levac
After a short time the demonstrators turned around and headed for the
renovated hall in the center of the village, where they paid their
respects to the grieving family. Omar, who had held back his tears
during the press event, could no longer contain himself and began
weeping bitterly, uncontrollably, the villagers hugging him. Leith’s
young face was emotionless, traumatized. He was wearing a yellow T-shirt
with the words “Dolce & Gabbana” inscribed on it. Besides him,
Shurafi also left behind three other children, all younger then Leith.
Their father was employed for 17 years by the village council as a
plumber, and he also worked in neighboring villages, including the town
of Hawara. He drove a 2015 BMW X5 jeep, with which he left his house
last Tuesday after 10 P.M. Why did he go out? Where did he go? Why did
he stop next to the collection of valves opposite the settlers’ small
reservoir for drinking water? It’s not clear. His brother Saad, 43,
relates that Shurafi was summoned both day and night, and frequently, to
check the local water system, as he was that fateful night, when the
water supply to the villagers had stopped. The system is very poor and
the supply is frequently disrupted.
Saad saw his brother that afternoon, he told us, as he was filling
the little pool he had placed on the roof of his house for the children.
The local council called his brother that evening, Saad says, and asked
him to see about the water outage. He drove his jeep to the entrance of
Beita, then turned south on Highway 60. He parked a short distance from
the village, next to a junkyard, the only spot where parking is
possible on that main highway, which has no shoulders at all. He got out
of his vehicle and walked back a few dozen meters, then crossed the
highway eastward, exactly like we did this week with his bereaved
brother and son. It was the first time they’d been there since their
loved one was killed.
On one side of the highway is a small reservoir and other water
installations that are protected by a guard armed with a machine gun –
as it was when we were there this week. On the other side are pipes and
valves and faucets enclosed by a fence that has holes in it. That’s
where Shurafi headed. The valves and so on are a few meters away from
the highway, beyond its safety rail, on a slope. Behind them lies an
olive grove. There are no warning signs indicating that entry is
forbidden. According to Saad, all the water-related mechanisms there are
connected to Beita’s supply.
It was 10:30 P.M., and other than Shurafi and his killers there was
apparently no one around. In the houses not far from the road people
were still out and about and suddenly heard gunfire shattering the
quiet. The residents later told Saad that they counted about 12 shots.
At 11:30 P.M., Saad read on Facebook that his brother had been killed by
soldiers.
Shadi Shurafi's father, Omar, center. Alex Levac
What happened there?
A statement issued by the IDF Spokesperson’s Unit after the incident
said that Shurafi had advanced quickly toward the Kfir soldiers, holding
what looked to them like an iron rod. They fired into the air, he
didn’t stop – and they killed him.
In response to a query from Haaretz, the spokesperson wrote: “In the
wake of the incident, a Military Police investigation has been launched,
at the conclusion of which the findings will be forwarded for
examination by the military advocate general’s unit. The body is being
held by the IDF in accordance with procedures. The issue of the return
of the body is being examined by the relevant persons and is subject to
the political decision makers.”
There were some neighbors who saw Shurafi get out of his vehicle
carrying a monkey wrench and walking slowly toward the water valves. In a
photograph published after his death a wrench is seen lying on the
ground and next to it a pack of Marlboros and a bloodstain. The
bloodstain was dry this week when we got there. Why did the soldiers
kill this man? And why is Israel refusing to return his body?
On Monday this week Saad went to the Israeli Coordination and Liaison
office in Hawara, in a desperate attempt to retrieve his brother’s
body. A female officer told him politely, he relates, that they know his
brother had a clean record and apparently didn’t do anything, but added
that the return of his body is not in the hands of the Civil
Administration. “She said that someone high up would decide and they
would let me know.” The officer then gave him his brother’s ID card. He
opens it now and bursts into tears.
In the meantime, the road leading out of Beita is completely blocked
by protesters. After the village elders left the press conference, the
young people showed up. A car ahead of us carried tires on its roof for
burning, but there was no need for them as thick black smoke was already
billowing above the road and at the entrance to the village. Stones
were hurled with slingshots, tear-gas canisters were fired, and for a
moment it seemed as though we were in a war – a war over the body of the
plumber from Beita.
