See also: ““>when I visited Holot last month. Because Youssef was let into Israel by border soldiers after “>some are orphans who just graduated from Israeli high school. “Every person who has been here for five or six years is getting a letter,” said Mulugeta Tumuzgi, a tall, stately Eritrean man who has emerged as one of the community's leaders during “>sit-in at the park since Sunday. Quite a few were resting on the ground, wrapped in blankets, as children played between them. The protesters looked more drained of hope than ever — but any sort of action is better than twiddling your thumbs, counting down the days until your indefinite detention.
“>the new “open” facility was completed in December. That's up from 2,300 about four days ago — so the government appears to be rounding up around 50 asylum seekers per day.
The prison's capacity is 3,300 at the moment, but “>Kadesh Barnea, a holy site that served as key refuge for the Jews on their journey from Egypt back to Israel.
Last Wednesday, a couple dozen protesters stood in front of the bus to Holot, holding up signs and arguing with one old man who came by to hurl some “Go home!” hate at the asylum seekers boarding the bus.
The Israeli government prefers they do so, too: All Sudanese and Eritreans in Israel have been offered $3,500 each to make the risky return home. I saw one Sudanese man at last Wednesday's send-off negotiating such a deal for his brother — currently going crazy in captivity at Holot — with staffers from the Administration of Border Crossings, Population and Immigration working at a pop-up processing tent. “>tour the prison on Jan. 26 — told me the Africans had it good at Holot, with “>Ha'Tarnegol (“The Rooster”), an art cafe in Jaffa, as he waited for the second bus to take him to Holot. I asked if he would ever try to get a day pass to visit Tel Aviv. “I don't have nothing to come back to,” he said, looking down at his phone, indicating politely that he'd rather I stop questioning him.
Another man waiting for the bus, 25-year-old Noor Ahmad (pictured below, in green), an Eritrean who worked at a seafood restaurant along Tel Aviv's beach promenade, was accompanied by family and friends, including two sisters. They said their goodbyes on a nearby park bench. “We cannot return to our country,” Ahmad said. “I need another option [besides prison], like a third country to go to.” His friend, Nesredil Ahmad, also 25, said he would miss playing basketball with Ahmad, and added: “This is punishment for us, because the Jewish people forgot the punishment of the Nazis.”
“>my Sudanese friend Musa, who owns a watch shop in the bus station and has lived here six years, is due to board the bus. As I know him, he's a free man, always smiling, with a love of photography, shawarma and loud pants. I have no idea what I can possibly tell him or offer him to make his dark future at Holot any more bearable.
So no, I'm not partial on this, and I think Israeli politicians might feel a little differently about their mass prison sentence if their friends, too, were headed to sandy, barbed-in hell tomorrow morning.
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