On the western coast of Israel denies the Jenin family the right to bury your loved ones at home | Israel-Palestine News of Conflict

Jenin, occupied West Coast, Palestine – For almost two weeks, 11 bodies lay in the Jenin Morgues, while the Israeli raids devastated the city and its refugee camp.

Their families were too scared to bury them in Jenin because of Israeli sniper, drones and artillery.

“Families are afraid to bury their loved ones in the Camp Cemetery, because Israeli snipers are stationed on high buildings,” Mahmoud al-Saadi, director of emergency services in Jenin, said on Monday. “Some bodies have been in the morgue for more than 13 days. We need an Israeli approval just to carry out burning, and even that has been delayed several times.”

Respecting the dead

At a time of Israel has launched its latest attack On Jenin on January 21, many people died. At least 30 were killed by Israeli soldiers, while others died of natural causes.

They stayed, uneducated, while their families struggled to rest them.

For 55-year-old Bassama Turkman, who lives in a refugee camp, the sudden death of her 60-year-old brother Osama was a “insurmountable loss” deepened by torment that he was unable to give him appropriate funerals.

Guided by their house, the Turkman family sought refuge in Burqin, the city west of Jenin. But their fragile sense of stability once again collapsed with a sudden decay and death of the oldest brother.

For days, Osama’s body was lying in the cold recess of the hospital morgue as the family thought if he would bury him in Burrqin’s unknown soil or cling to a weak chance to bring him back to the cemetery in the camp to rest by the house they were forced to escape.

Bassam prayed with his family to choose Burqin.

“We grew up believing that honoring the dead means to bury them quickly,” he told Al Jazeera. “Leaving him in the morgue indefinitely, he simply did not feel good, especially since the hospital was already flooded with the bodies of those killed during surgery.”

The attack on Jenin comes during the spikes in the Israeli violence on the west coast of a fragile truce stopped Israeli A 15-month attack On Gaza, who was killed near 62,000 Palestinians and left the enclave in the ruins.

The surgery started Almost all 20,000 people from Jenin From their homes, according to the United Nations.

“We are people who need to visit our dead, sit in their graves, talk to them and remember them,” Bassam said. “The burning of our loved ones far from home is pain in itself.”

But in the end, Osama was set up to rest in Burqin, about 4 km (2.5 miles) from Jenin. While Israeli bulldozers made their way through the infrastructure of the camp, Bassam and his family stood by the side of Osama’s grave.

They stood next to Turkman to perform funeral prayers were members of the Al-Khateeb family. They said goodbye to 59-year-old Marwan Al-Khateeb, who died on the first day of Razi and was buried near Osama at the Burqin Cemetery.

“Occupation does not show the respect of the living or the dead. We are all terrorists for them,” Bassam regretted.

‘Martyrs’ without appropriate farewells

On January 28, the Israeli forces shot 25-year-old Osama Abu al-Hay as he stood on the roof of the building. Until his death, he was bleeding as the shooting held a family and an ambulance that I could not reach him by the next day.

His family was also forbidden to hold a traditional funeral.

“We wanted to lay down seclusion to rest with the other martyrs,” said his older brother Tareq Abu al-Hay. “But the soldiers sealed the camp. They even blocked roads to prevent people from gathering.”

In Jena, public processions for those who have been killed forces have long served as a common act and sorrow and defiance. Hundreds of people usually gather to follow the places of the dead to burials with families traveling from the entire West Coast to join gloomy ceremonies to honor individuals that many consider “martyrs” here.

The Abu al-Hay family could not bear the thought of leaving Osama for days, but his members knew that he would never be able to give him a “martyr” farewell.

Thus, they decided to bury Osama in the nearby triangle of the village of the martyrs, ensuring dignified farewell despite the circumstances.

“The decision was not easy,” Tareq said, “but we wanted him to have appropriate burden, even if it means to do it far from home.”

On Saturday, after 13 days of camp violence, the Palestinian Relationship Office finally managed to coordinate with his Israeli colleague to allow funerals for people whose bodies lay in Morgues.

The Israeli authorities have imposed strict conditions: without a procession, without public gatherings, only an ambulance quietly transports the dead to the cemetery, and each is accompanied by only two family members.

The bereaved could barely start preparing for mass burning when the Israeli army abolished coordination, citing “security problems”.

The delays were forced by Mahmoud emergency services and his team to improvise, burying four people in the Eastern District of Jenin, to the less hit by a ration, but burials of seven others were delayed again.

By Monday, the Israeli forces were finally allowed to funeral seven remaining people.

But Israeli military limitations have been transformed by Israeli military limitations: we have no bereaved, without slogans.

“We have always honored our martyrs together,” said one of the sorrow, refusing to give his name for fear of repression.

“Now we bury them in silence.”

This article was published in collaboration with Egab.