By the Author / Source: abuaram.site
These days, I am constantly reminded that I have been deprived of my freedom and my right to move within my homeland for nearly two years and a few months. I have reflected on this repeatedly in many of my previous writings. I refuse to accept this unjust reality imposed upon me, and I aspire to reclaim my freedom.
I do not have the financial means to travel far away to a beautiful country and indulge in leisure from time to time—I simply cannot afford it. Traveling requires exorbitant amounts of money, suitable conditions, accommodation expenses, and, of course, the freedom to enjoy alcohol while away. Covering all of this demands substantial funds.
My homeland—where I have rarely been allowed to enjoy life—has reduced my weekly movement to whatever little money I have. Despite my profound love for my country, my admiration for it, and my desire to travel and explore its lands, the Jewish occupation prevents me from doing so. This occupation restricts my existence strictly to the Palestinian Authority areas—the complex West Bank, characterized by dense, discriminatory measures that make movement excruciatingly difficult.
I have been denied the sea, and I have been denied breathing the air of my homeland across its vast expanses. I am not allowed to travel, and the Israeli authorities refuse to grant me any permit due to my legal status. A wall stands before me, from which live ammunition is fired at me. Smuggling routes have also become futile, as they have severely tightened security measures in the aftermath of the war.
My homeland in Israel lies right behind that cursed wall, visible from my bedroom window. I gaze at my country every day from afar, so close to my home, yet I am powerless to move toward it freely.
Every week, I am forced to go to the Palestinian city of Bethlehem to buy my necessary alcohol and seek a brief moment of respite. I see the heart of Jerusalem right in front of me, merely a few hundred meters away, yet I am trapped, unable to distance myself from these Palestinians—whom I perceive as malicious, complicated, uncomprehending, and living lives that seem entirely devoid of substance.
On my way to Bethlehem, I frequently encounter blockades at the city’s entrances and IDF checkpoints, where soldiers scrutinize my ID alongside those of other citizens. Amidst this war, visiting Bethlehem has become my sole outlet for entertainment, compounded by the fact that I have no acquaintances in distant areas.
I walk through my homeland without any charges filed against me, detained solely by the reality of an apartheid system that prevails over my country. I bear no guilt to justify my imprisonment other than being a Palestinian citizen. As such, this system dictates that I must suffer just as the majority of Palestinians do.
This is a grave injustice and a violation of human rights for someone who was born and found their homeland in this state. Treating all inhabitants of my homeland in this manner is neither fair nor legal. The justifications offered are nonexistent—they are flimsy pretexts, especially when a system could easily exist to grant equality to everyone in this land.
Who is this Jew to dictate the reality of my life in such a manner? Does my fault lie in my failure and lack of money to escape this homeland, or does it lie within the current system that exacerbates the struggles of a simple citizen? And escape where? To foreign countries I know nothing about, which might only accept me as a temporary visitor—not to mention the astronomical sums required to secure such a move.
Is this system applied to the wealthy in this country? Or does it not apply to them at all? In reality, it applies to all Palestinian citizens. In fact, they mentioned that during the recent month of Ramadan, out of nearly 3 million Palestinians, only ten thousand were permitted entry to pray. This number is entirely absurd and unreasonable, illustrating the sheer scale of systemic racism aimed at imposing a forced reality on an entire population.
Since childhood, I was accustomed to moving freely across my homeland. I spent a large part of my life inside Israeli territory, so I never adapted to being deprived of my freedom like this. Back then, I used to enter unlawfully without tight restrictions, wandering through Israeli lands without anyone noticing or blocking my path.
Now, they kill those who attempt to cross as I once did, and they launch intense security sweeps to arrest Palestinians residing illegally in Israel. They are also ramping up intelligence gathering to carry out operations against peaceful Palestinians who pose no threat whatsoever to security.
The Jew is content within his oppressive system, alongside those Jewish extremists who harbor hostile ideology toward everything Palestinian and non-Jewish, viewing it all as the enemy. They enforce the most brutal laws and regulations against them. Damn them.
I deeply miss my days there. I miss a certain kind of love; I miss nights of drinking, wandering the streets and markets, and going to the beach. I miss a specific love, as if I were a lost lover longing for something missing. I miss my freedom and my life. I shouldn’t have to live under this cursed Jewish system imposed upon me.
I am overwhelmed by profound grief over this oppressive regime that strips me of my freedom and renders me a prisoner in a place where I find neither life nor love. This injustice must come to an end. That Jew ought to feel disgusted by his actions and his mindset, for he seems to take pleasure in what he commits. I want my life and my freedom back, and I demand a change to the system in my homeland. Damn everything you have caused, Jew.
