The legacy of Ziad Abu Helaiel – peacefully resisting Israel in the West Bank | Israel-Palestine conflict

Dura, occupied West Bank – Ziad Abu Helaiel – political activist and social reformer – was best known for his defiant phrase “Bihimmish!” (“doesn’t matter” in Arabic).

The phrase was said brazenly, even dismissively, to Israeli soldiers who tried to scare him when he stood in their way, often using his body itself to prevent them from shooting at solidarity demonstrators in the West Bank during the 2014 Gaza war.

To say that Abu Helaiel, who was beaten to death by Israeli soldiers in his home near Hebron on October 7 this year, was a household name would be an understatement. He became famous in the West Bank for the peaceful protests he led against the Israeli occupation. He was never armed and often acted as a human barrier between protesters and Israeli soldiers.

Thousands of people attended his funeral in the West Bank. Several thousand other people tried to participate but were stopped at roadblocks manned by Israeli forces.

Among his many acts of resistance, he led over 10,000 demonstrations in front of Israeli checkpoints in Hebron, demanding the return of the bodies of Palestinians killed by Israel in 2016. The demonstrations resulted in the return of 17 bodies.

On another occasion, says Muhammad Kamel Nassar, 69, a salesman, Abu Helaiel intervened when Israeli soldiers tried to arrest a young man during one of the recent raids on Dura, south of Hebron.

Abu Helaiel chased the soldiers, and “during the chase, the Sheikh encountered them and was severely beaten, handcuffed, and arrested for hours after helping the young man escape from the soldiers.”

Nassar recalls the event from a location near the Grand Mosque of Dura, where the two sat together for hours and discussed issues such as the suffering of the people of Gaza and social reconciliation.

He takes care of his children and flowers

In the courtyard of their home, Abu Helaiel’s wife of 43 years, Basma, sits alone on one of the two chairs where she used to sit with her husband. Next to her are flowers and trees cared for by Abu Helaiel, who was 66 when he was killed.

He preferred the scent of natural basil flowers, he explains, wrapping his old keffiyah around his shoulders. It was here that they drank coffee every day after morning prayers and waited together for the sunrise. Then their children went to work and their grandchildren went to college.

He also cared about his family. Long after they became adults, they remained children to him when they stayed in his house.

Abu Helaiel lost two sons to Israeli bombings. One of them was Jihad, just 7 months old, who was killed during the first intifada in 1989 near their home. The family was not allowed to travel to the hospital and the baby had no chance.

Another son, Ahmed, died at the age of 17 in 2017 when he was hit by an Israeli vehicle in Ramallah. Brother Bader was shot in the chest with live bullets, after which he was arrested, wounded and sentenced to three years in prison.

Basma (64) gave birth to eight sons and six daughters. Surviving are twins Musa and Maysaa, 42; Muhammad, 41; Murad, 39; Issa, 37; Sana, 36; Iyad – Jihad’s twin – 34 years old; Mahmud, 33; Badera, 32; twins Nidaa and Fidaa, 31; Muayad, 30; and Yasmine, 29.

“They beat him mercilessly”

In the early morning hours of October 7, the first anniversary of the Hamas-led attack on southern Israel that killed 1,139 people and captured 251 prisoners and marked the beginning of Israel’s war in Gaza, occupation soldiers stormed the courtyard of Abu Dom Helaiel.

“It was around 3 a.m. when we heard the voices of soldiers who were besieging the house and telling us to open the door,” Basma says.

Her son, Muayad, went to open the door and was immediately attacked. The soldiers demanded that he take them to his uncle’s house next door.

At that moment, other soldiers rushed into the house to find Ziad and began to beat him mercilessly. He repeated that he had a heart defect, but one of the soldiers deliberately hit the heart area. When Abu Helaiel tried to follow them from the house, one of the soldiers slammed a heavy iron door on his chest, causing him to fall.

Abu Helaiel had previously undergone a series of heart procedures, including arterial catheterization. He lost consciousness for over half an hour, but the house was surrounded by soldiers. “They prevented the ambulance from reaching us,” Basma says.

When he regained consciousness, “he uttered the Shahada in my arms as I tried to help him stay alive, and then his soul left his body. I felt that my body also became soulless,” says Basma.

“Lots of honey and some onions”

Basma fondly remembers her husband’s generosity, humility, courage and constant prayer in the mosque. “He taught me patience, advised me to take care of his sick, paralyzed mother and continue my journey without fear,” she says.

Everyone loved him, he says. When he came home, there were always several cats waiting for him, which he fed every day. They continued to come – even after his death.

His grandchildren will also be waiting for him – ready to accept all the treats he brought home for them, chips and cookies. “I remember him spoon-feeding them even though they had already eaten lunch,” Basma recalled.

Basma met Abu Helaiel in Jordan, where she was born and where her family lived. Abu Helaiel took a job in a Saudi bank, but returned to Jordan in time for his engagement and wedding.

The couple remained there for three years before Abu Helaiel took them back to Palestine, where they settled in the city of Dura, south of Hebron, and took up farming. Basma says there was “a lot of honey and a little onion” in their marriage – a lot of happiness and a little sadness.

According to her, her husband was primarily committed to defending his countrymen. “He never used weapons or sharp tools, rather stood with his bare chest and clean hand in front of the occupiers’ guns,” he explains. “He wanted to prevent Israeli soldiers from firing bullets and bombs at Palestinian youth, especially when the occupiers suppressed demonstrations of solidarity with the people of Gaza during previous wars.

“He loved the people of Gaza very much and was greatly impressed by the scenes of massacres in Gaza, so he talked a lot about what he saw, especially about small children and women. “His tears did not dry for a long time because of the sadness and pain.”

Now, he says, the pillar of the house is gone. “He left a huge void.”

Basma says she focused on his courage at his funeral. She said: “Congratulations on your martyrdom and may God bless you in it. This death raises my head and that of his entire family, it is a badge of honor for us and a tribute to his biography. His will at his passing was that we should not weep, but rather rejoice, howl, and not receive mourners, but rather receive congratulations.

Settle disputes in the middle of the night

“In our father’s eyes, we never really grew up,” says Murad Abu Helaiel, 39, who works as a computer programmer.

“My oldest brother is 42 and my youngest is 27, but he treated us all like children under five because of the wonderful care he gave us.”

He was seen as a protector also in the wider community and was often called upon to help settle disputes. “Many times during the night he received calls asking for help. To ensure this, he would leave the bed,” Murad recalls.

On one occasion, Abu Helaiel was stabbed in the hand when he tried to intervene in a dispute between two local men. “He refused to go for treatment despite bleeding until there was reconciliation between the two sides,” his son says.

Another time he intervened in a dispute between two neighbors due to one of them tearing out a tree from the other. The injured party demanded 6,000 dinars ($8,464) for the tree.

Abu Helaiel took off the agal (headband above the keffiyah) and placed it on the offering, asking, “Will this be enough instead of 6,000 dinars?” The man replied, “No, it’s worth 10,000 and I can’t owe you 4,000 dinars.”

“And the dispute was resolved,” says Murad.

He says his father’s death has left a great void not only in the family but also in the Palestinian community and society as a whole. “The Palestinian people needed someone who would face occupation and injustice everywhere and be afraid of nothing.”

His son says he continued to provide help and care to the community in the final days of his life, despite heart problems. “I am holding his clothes – his agal head, keffiyeh, abaya and disdasha. They have become a priceless treasure for me and my family.”