Randa Kababji, Mother of four

I am married and have four children, Yasmin, 14 years-old, Shahd 13 years-old, 'Omar, 11 years-old, and Asama', who is 3 years-old. On Tuesday, 18 January, 2005 I was preparing for the holiday. My children and I did some shopping in the market, and when we came back home I made cookies and I arranged them nicely on a plate for the guests. I also cleaned the house. At around 9:30 PM, my family and I were eating dinner and suddenly we heard shooting. It seemed as if it was coming from nearby, but I didn’t pay much attention since we are used to the army’s incursions into the city, even though this time it started earlier then usual.

A few minutes later, the shooting got louder and I heard explosions as well. I looked out the window and saw many jeeps and soldiers. I heard a voice calling out to all the residents to evacuate the building. We didn’t know which building it referred to since we live in an area with a few buildings next to each other. Then I heard a knock and my husband went to open the door. It was our neighbor and he said, “I think we should go outside. I am scared that if we don’t evacuate soon the soldiers will be angry." So we decided to leave the house. I picked up my youngest daughter and we all left. We were dressed in clothes suitable only for being in the house, and we didn’t take anything with us. I even forgot my ID card. I didn’t think it would take long or that our building would be blown up. I just thought that they wanted to search the building.

When we got to the street, I saw soldiers standing behind jeeps about thirty meters from the entrance to our house. We went over to the soldiers to see what they wanted. Two soldiers pointed at the sidewalk across from them and said in Arabic, “Go over there.” Lots of people from the buildings in our area had gathered on the sidewalk as well as people that the IDF had arrested during the incursion. These people were handcuffed and some of them had been blindfolded by soldiers. Altogether there were about 15 men and many more children and women - I don’t know exactly how many. I was terrified. I had never been through such an experience.

We stood in the street for an hour, and in the meanwhile the soldiers were shooting at the building I live in. An hour later, one of the soldiers told us to move away. We started walking and every time we stopped, soldiers told us to keep moving. We reached the Iben al-Haithem school which is about eighty meters down the street from our building. The school was filled with soldiers. Two soldiers were standing at the door and one pointed at one of the rooms, signaling us to enter it. The men were taken into a different room. There were around 45 women and children in the room I was in. We sat on the small school chairs. The children were very scared. My daughter said, “When are we going home? I am tired and I want to sleep.” Two soldiers were standing near the classroom door. They allowed us to go the bathroom and brought us water to drink. We asked the soldiers when we would be let out and they replied, “In ten minutes.” The ten minutes turned into nine hours. We were there all night.

At around 1 AM, a soldier came in and read out all of our names. Then he repeated the names and asked which one I was. He ordered me to go with him into another room with two different soldiers. One of them asked me if I know a man named Amjad al-Hinawi. I told him that I never heard that name before. The soldiers then told me that this man came to my house. I told him that it was impossible and that I don’t know him or the name. The soldier replied, “You will be better off if you confess.” I said, “I don’t know anything about this man.” Then they brought me back to the room where everyone else was being held.

Throughout the whole time we could hear shooting and explosions. I thought they had come to the house of a wanted activist. I had no idea our house was going to be destroyed. We live in a small building with four apartments and no youngsters live in it. There are twelve tenants in the building and two of them are very old women. On the first floor there are shops.

At about 5 AM, the soldier standing near the classroom door told us to plug our ears. We realized that something was going to be blown up. The explosion was very powerful and loud. The whole complex shook. We still didn’t know what had been blown up. We hoped it was all over and that my family could go home. Half an hour later one of the soldiers said, “In about ten minutes you can all leave.” Once the soldiers had moved a bit away we all left. We couldn’t stay there anymore. I asked one of the men in the schoolyard about my husband and he said that the soldiers had taken him along with a few other men. My husband Basem is 41 years old. He is a goldsmith and is not a political activist. It was painful to hear that he was taken.

One of the men said that the soldiers had blown up our building. I went into a state of shock and lost consciousness. When I came to, I saw many women surrounding me. I cried and my children were yelling, “Mom, our house was blown up. Mom where is dad? Where did they take him?” I felt as though my heart would explode from the shock and pain. I don’t know how this all happened or why it happened. There were no activists in our building, there were no clashes in the area, nothing had happened to justify such destruction. The building was turned into a pile of rubbles and dirt. The soldiers blew up everything inside as well. All of our mementoes and possessions - clothing, textbooks, storybooks that I read my children an night, and the cookies and clothes for the holiday. Everything was destroyed.

My family and my husband’s family all came over. My brothers took the children and I to my family’s house. They tried to calm me down by repeating that the most important thing is that we are ok and that the property can be replaced. My children and I had left our house in pajamas - we didn’t take anything with us. We didn’t even take our gold, our money, or documents such as the children’s birth certificates. I was most pained by thinking about losing my wedding pictures and pictures of the children. They mean the world to me.

On the first night we couldn’t sleep. Asama' said, “Where is daddy? Let’s go home.” I didn’t know how to respond since I didn’t know where my husband was or what had happened to him. I hope he will be released from prison soon. Now almost a week has passed since the demolition and nothing has changed. The children and I are very sad. Asama' cries randomly and wakes up in the middle of night screaming. She holds on to me and won’t let go.

We were evacuated from our house for no reason. Not a big reason or a small reason. Just for no reason. In one moment we became homeless. I keep hoping that this is all a nightmare and that I will wake up. But this is reality. It could happen to any Palestinian family.

Randa Muhammad Farid Saha'aban Kababji, aged 39, is married and mother of four and a homemaker. She is a resident of Nablus. The testimony was taken by Salma a-Deb'i at the Kababji home on 25 January 2005.