03/10/2022
After school
On Friday Bethlehem witnessed a general strike. Seven-year old Rayan Suleiman, had died the previous day suddenly, shortly after Israeli soldiers had knocked loudly at the door of his home in Tekoa, south-east of Bethlehem.
My Palestinian family knows the village of Tekoa, the birthplace of the Old Testament prophet Amos, from desert journeys to nearby Wadi Khreitoun, with its ancient caves and archeological remains. Recently Mary, Jara and I passed the village on our way to a bumping jeep tour through the desert, ending in a panoramic view of the Dead Sea where our group held a tasty picnic.
But no desert quiet now but rather the deadly impact of occupation. Rayan’s father testified to journalists and activists that when Israeli soldiers has been chasing stone throwers they thought that Rayan’s brothers of 8 and 10 years were among them. After the soldiers’ intimidating presence at the home, Rayan was found later in the courtyard of the house, with face on the ground and arms stretched out in front.
In Haaretz, a local pediatric specialist, Dr. Mohamed Ismail, was quoted saying that he was healthy and had no previous medical conditions. “The most probable scenario of what happened is that under stress, he had excess adrenaline secretion, which caused the increase of his heartbeat,” Ismail said. “He developed cardiac arrest.”
Context is everything. From a detailed reading of various accounts about what happened, it becomes clear that the local Palestinian children are used to army raids on their homes and soldiers’ presence in the street and near the school. In Times of Israel an aunt is quoted: “The kids are always in danger, from settlers from the army, on their way back from school.” The aunt, Umm Ali, noted that soldiers sometimes patrol a path that kids take from school to their homes. “Rayan is not the first one, he is only the latest.”
In Haaretz a technology teacher, Nida, from the village school attended by Rayan and his brothers, is quoted: “Every day there is a sense that something can happen. The children’s fear is a daily feature,” she says. The school is situated next to the main road which connects different illegal settlement blocs. Nida says that the presence of soldiers and vehicles very close to the school is common: “The army is there day and night.”
She says that teachers take turns in order to verify that all the children go home at the end of the day, with some of them accompanying the children for part of the way due to their fear of the soldiers. “Sometimes, soldiers pass by the window during classes, signaling to the students, so that even inside the school, children don’t feel safe.”
Nida herself has a child at that school. She says that Rayan’s death has greatly affected him. “He doesn’t want to go back to school, he hasn’t eaten since then. He tells me that if he goes to school he’ll die.” Sunday (yesterday) will be the first day that students, including Rayan’s two brothers, will be returning to school since his death. “It will be a difficult day, with many students already saying they don’t want to go,” says Nida.
In the Bethlehem area schools near settler roads and checkpoints, and in refugee camps, are typically affected by what happens in Tekoa. I personally remember visiting a school in the village of Al-Khader south-west of Bethlehem in which half of the matriculation (tawjihi) class was in prison. There too it was common that soldiers or Israeli guards sneaked along the school and frequently looked into the windows of the classes.
Fear, not only among the students and teachers but also among the parents, is also related to the length and conditions of imprisonment. Israel considers stone-throwing as a crime punishable by up to 20 years (!) in prison.
First part of two blogs. The second is about the representation of Rayan’s death in some Israeli news sources.
Toine van Teeffelen
3 October 2022
