It was bound to happen once “>Holot, Israel's “open” desert prison for “illegal infiltrators,” have been pushing back against the rule of the Israeli Population, Immigration and Border Authority (PIBA).
From the morning of June 16 until now, all 2,300 prisoners have refused to show up for their thrice-daily check-ins — a ritual which prevents them from leaving the jail's desolate premises, and ensures they are stuck in lines for hours each day.
(“Lines to check in, lines to check out,” “>marching down Holot's dusty roads and “>torture en route to Israel, protesting in the middle of the Negev — with no one to hear them but prison workers — have made the rounds on social media. But they've been partly overshadowed by renewed fury over Israel's grip on the West Bank and Gaza, as soldiers has been silent since his arrest. And
The PIBA spokesperson's office hasn't yet responded to a Jewish Journal inquiry on the number of Holot prisoners sent to Saharonim in the past week, and the nature of their arrests. (Except to say, back when the check-in strike began, that the strikers would be “treated as the law decided.” Aka, sent to Saharonim. But the only ones sent to Saharonim so far appear to be the leaders of the protest movement.)
“They can arrest four leaders, but it won't be the end,” said Darfuri asylum seeker Muhamad Musa of the revolt. “We are 3,000 leaders.”
Musa, a close friend of mine who was summoned to Holot in February, took his chances and traveled to Tel Aviv for a few hours yesterday to check on his watch shop in the Central Bus Station.
I walked with him along Neve Sha'anan Street as he greeted old friends from his six-year residence in Tel Aviv, including a table full of wrinkled Russian-Israeli men smoking and playing cards.
But Neve Sha'anan, once the lively main street of South Tel Aviv, was sickly quiet on Monday afternoon. Visitors (and visiting journalists) always used to marvel, whether in delight or horror, over the “Little Africa” they found along this dingy ramblas — filled with Eritrean and Sudanese smells, sounds and street signs. These days, Neve Sha'anan is a skeleton of its former self. It has no more flea market; half its shops are shuttered. It has grown chilly with the ghosts of a migrant population past.
Either that, or they're just plain depressed. Journalist David Sheen, who has been documenting the African struggle in Israel from the start,
A prison in the middle of nowhere with a gate that opens a few hours each day is still a prison “>June 19, 2014