Raafat Abu Ra'iyeh, bakery worker

I was born on 21 November 1981 in ‘Aliyah Hospital, in Hebron. Ten days later, my birth certificate was issued. My parents did not notice that the certificate had no ID number.

Not having an ID number didn’t affect my life until I got to the age you’re supposed to get an ID card. When I went to the Palestinian Interior Ministry in Hebron to get the card, I was surprised when a clerk told me that my name didn’t appear on the computer and that I didn't have an ID number. That’s when my suffering began.

Not having an ID number meant that I couldn’t take the matriculation exams. I managed to take the tests only following great effort and pressure that my family placed on officials in the Palestinian Ministry of Education. I completed high school, concentrating on courses in literature, and applied to Hebron University, but the university refused to register me without an ID card.

I had no choice but to start working. At first, I did construction work in Israel, in the Be’ersheva area. I had lots of problems on the way to and from work. Once or twice a month, I was detained at checkpoints and taken to a police station, where I was held for at least 24 hours. While at the station, the police would humiliate and mock me, and would also claim that I was from Jordan and staying illegally in Israel. Once they verified that I was telling the truth, they would release me.

I can’t even recall how many times I was detained, there were too many of them.

About a year and a half ago, I found work in a bakery in al-‘Eizariya. I work and sleep in the bakery and almost never leave it. I visit my family every six months or so. Each time I return to Hebron, I am detained at the Container checkpoint until they verify my story, which takes about four hours. Sometimes, after I pass through that checkpoint, I am detained again at the Gush Etzion checkpoint. It’s been over six months now since I last saw my family. I miss them a lot, but I’m too scared to go to Hebron because of the checkpoints.

Since my dream is to get an ID card, all sorts of people have taken advantage of my situation and cheated me after claiming they could help me. The last time this happened was seven months ago. My uncle Yusef, 36, knew an Israeli policeman named Yehezkel. My uncle told me to go and meet the policeman at the entrance to the Ma’ale Adumim police station. I went to meet him. He was wearing the blue uniform of the Israel Police and was about 40, tall, dark-skinned, and heavyset. He told me that if I paid him 3,000 shekels, he would speak with the Israeli coordination and liaison office in Beit El, which would give the Palestinian Interior Ministry approval to issue me an ID card. I gave him the money.

A few days later, he told me that I could go to the Palestinian Interior Ministry to get my ID card. When I went to the ministry’s office in Hebron, I realized that I’d been cheated and that nothing had changed. When I called him, his cell phone was disconnected.

Since I don’t have an ID card, I can’t make any plans to get married. I’m afraid that marriage would complicate my situation even more. How can I start a family and bring children into the world if I can’t move from place to place?

I live in a constant state of uncertainty about my future. My existence is not officially recognized, which affects my natural right to live as a person with a name and an identity card, like everybody else.

Raafat Muhammad Hashem Abu Ra'iyeh, 27, is a bakery worker and a resident of Tarqumya, Hebron District. His testimony was given to Kareem Jubran at the witness's workplace in al-'Eizariya, al-Quds District, on 1 April 2008.