Mohammed Kilani.Credit: Alex Levac
“Two friends set out, bim bam bom,” goes the old Israeli song. Suheib Kilani and his cousin and close friend Mohammed Kilani set off late one afternoon last month for their family’s land in Tura a-Sharkiya, a small, tranquil village in the West Bank, in the hope of finding relief from the oppressive heat in the shade of the carob trees. The two men, coming from the nearby town of Yabad, were driving along slowly – there’s no other way to drive here because of the numerous speed bumps spread out on the access road to Tura – when an Israel Defense Forces soldier suddenly jumped out onto the road in front of them and began to fire shots into the air. In an instant the two stunned cousins were being shot at from all directions.
Both of them suffered serious injuries. Both are now disabled. One can’t stand up without help; the other is bedridden, groaning in pain, his arm held together by metal screws. Both require long periods of complicated rehabilitation.
Tura and Yabad are located in the Jenin district of the northern West Bank. Almost every inch of the adjacent Dothan Valley, just south of Yabad, is covered at present with a green carpet of tobacco plants; their leaves are being laid out to dry in the sun between trees in olive groves. The separation barrier is a few hundred meters away, and in the distance the red roofs of the settlement of Shaked shimmer in the heat.
At the point where the road enters Tura stands an ancient, imposing oak tree that local folk call the “engagement tree.” Located halfway between Haifa and Nablus, this is the spot where the families of intended brides and grooms from those two cities traditionally meet to conduct engagement and wedding ceremonies. The tree is apparently a unique species; there’s one oak like this in Haifa and another one in Irbid, Jordan, we’re told by the head of the Tura council, Zakaria Kilani. Zakaria, the proprietor of a grocery store that lies in the shade of the tree, was married here in 1994; he later served a long term in an Israeli prison.
About 200 meters before the oak, some sort of ornamental tree is growing along the roadside next to a purple bougainvillea; its trunk is now bent over. This is where the car of the two young cousins finally came to a stop after being shot at. Suheib, the driver, had tried to avoid running over the soldier who had fired shots in the air and was standing in the middle of the road, by veering left, whereupon he lost consciousness.
Blackened bloodstains from the two men can still be seen on the road; they bled for about 20 minutes before the soldiers allowed a Palestinian ambulance to evacuate them to a nearby hospital. This week they were back in Yabad, recuperating.
Jordanian-born Suheib, who is 20 and wears braces and a shy smile, arrived with his mother in the West Bank to visit her native village four days before the incident, which took place on June 19. He had planned to begin his training to be a nurse in September in Amman, where his father is a gastroenterologist. Mohammed, a 24-year-old Yabad resident, works as a waiter at weddings in Israeli Arab communities.
The incident occurred on a Monday. Two nights before that, Mohammed worked at a wedding in Tira. He rested on Sunday and then on Monday suggested to Suheib that they take an outing to their family’s land in Tura to enjoy nature and escape the blistering heat. Suheib borrowed his uncle’s car, a Volkswagen Golf. A little after 5 P.M. they set out on the three-kilometer (1.8-mile) journey. Their plan was to stop at Zakaria Kilani’s grocery store in the shade of the oak tree to stock up on snacks and soft drinks. They never got there.
At home in Yabad when we visited this week, Mohammed – weak and pale, and having a hard time sitting up – told us what happened. Immediately after he and Suheib passed the square on the road into Tura, a soldier suddenly jumped out in front of them and started shooting in the air. The two were overcome with panic. Then the VW came under fire from both sides of the road, Mohammed says, adding that he thinks there were as many as 15 to 20 soldiers hidden among the olive trees there.
He and Suheib stress that they hadn’t heard there were soldiers in the area, or they would never have driven there. Eyewitnesses told Abdulkarim Sadi, a field researcher for the Israeli human rights organization B’Tselem, that dozens of rounds were fired at the car, which was punctured like a sieve. The volleys continued for about 20 seconds.
Suheib was hit in the chest and slumped over. Mohammed shouted in terror to the soldiers, “Stop shooting! Stop shooting! We have nothing on us, we didn’t do anything!” The car swerved to the left side of the road and hit the ornamental tree. Suheib was hit in five places in his upper body, including his neck; Mohammed was wounded in three places in his back, by both bullets and shrapnel.
A soldier approached the car and ordered Mohammed to get out. Unable to stand up, he crawled out and tried to reach the other side of the car to help Suheib. He feared his cousin was dead.
“Help me, help me!” he called to the soldiers. In vain. One soldier grabbed the unconscious Suheib by his clothes, dragged him out of the car and threw him onto the road, Mohammed relates. Mohammed begged the soldiers to summon an ambulance for them. “Quiet, quiet,” they shushed him, but then added, “An ambulance is on the way.” Mohammed reminds us that the Palestinian ambulance that arrived on the scene was summoned not by the army but by a local resident.
In fact, two ambulances arrived from Yabad, but the soldiers allowed only one to approach. An argument broke out between them and the paramedic, who tried to explain that he had only one stretcher and that two seriously wounded people could not be evacuated in one ambulance. But the soldiers were adamant, declaring, “One ambulance or nothing.” The paramedic put Suheib on the stretcher, while Mohammed – who had also been grabbed by his clothes and hauled into the ambulance by the soldiers – was forced to sit on a bench in the vehicle, writhing in pain.
Mohammed was transferred to the second ambulance in Yabad, and the two vehicles sped to the nearby Jenin Governmental Hospital. At night, when the seriousness of Suheib’s condition became apparent, he was evacuated to a private hospital in Nablus, where he underwent surgery to save his left arm. It remains paralyzed, but this week he somehow managed to wiggle a couple of fingers. Mohammed was hospitalized for nine days, four of them in an ICU. His back is still bandaged. He’s also suffering from searing pains in his right hip, and his kidney and liver were damaged.
After Suheib was taken to the Nablus hospital, Mohammed was certain his cousin had died. A few days later, however, they were able to talk by video. They saw each other for the first time only 25 days after the incident.
For his part, field researcher Sadi tells us that eyewitnesses said that after the two wounded men were evacuated, the soldiers collected the casings of the numerous bullets that lay scattered on the road – perhaps in order to eliminate evidence of what had occurred?
The IDF Spokesperson’s Unit stated this week in response to a query from Haaretz: “A car-ramming attack against IDF fighters occurred on June 19, adjacent to Checkpoint 300 in the Menashe Brigade [territorial sector]. Two fighters were wounded lightly. The forces responded by firing at the terrorists in the vehicle. Hits were confirmed. The terrorists were administered first aid by the forces on the ground and afterward were evacuated by the Red Crescent [emergency ambulance service]. The decision on how the evacuation was carried out and on the number of ambulances was made by the Red Crescent. No complaints were received in the wake of the event. If any will be received, they will be examined according to the usual protocol.”
The IDF Spokesperson’s response is more than puzzling, to put it mildly. If there was indeed a “car-ramming attack,” why were the perpetrators not arrested for interrogation? The fact that Suheib and Mohammed were immediately released after being wounded, and were dispatched to a Palestinian hospital, seems to be incontrovertible proof that Mohammed, the wedding waiter, and Suheib, the guest from Jordan, did not perpetrate a car-ramming or any other attack. They were apparently shot despite the fact that they were innocent of any wrongdoing.
Resting in the air-conditioned home of his relatives, Suheib smiles wanly. His father, Dr. Abdul Rahim Kilani, is unable to be with his wounded son; he was denied a tourist visa by the Israeli embassy in Amman. Dr. Kilani was born in Yabad and studied medicine in Ukraine. Because he did not return home at all during his years of study, he lost his West Bank residency status. Now Israel won’t let him visit the town where he and his ancestors were born, to look after his son as both father and physician.
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