'Alaa Hilkawi, worker

I live in the al-Fawwar refugee camp with my parents and seven brothers and sisters. I own a 1985 Subaru. I work as a laborer but have had almost no work recently.

On the ninth of February, a Thursday, at 10:00 P.M., I was on my way home. My friend, 'Alaa al-Ma'iwi, 23, was driving my car. He also lives in the camp. When we got to the southern entrance of Dura, which is the main entrance to al-Fawwar, we saw that the iron gate was closed and that it was impossible to get through. For two months, soldiers had closed the gate at night. We decided to park the car in the a-Sanawbar neighborhood, where people park their car overnight. We parked the car next to Ahmad Abu Sal's house, and started to walk the 300-meter distance to the checkpoint.

About twenty meters from the gate, I saw two soldiers. One was blond, short, and heavyset. The other was tall and had a dark-brown complexion. One of them called out to us to stop and lift up our shirts. Then he told us to proceed to the gate.

The soldier took our ID cards and asked, "Where is the car?" 'Alaa replied that it was in the neighborhood and pointed to the area. Before 'Alaa finished speaking, the soldier hit him in the face with his rifle and told him to go and get the car. 'Alaa started to go, and after he walked a few meters, the soldier asked me where our weapons were, and why we drove the car up to the gate and then drove away. I told him that we did that because the gate was closed and that we decided to park the car next to our friends' house. Before I finished what I wanted to say, he punched me three times in the face and asked, "Where are the weapons? Where are the weapons?" He kicked me in my right leg, and hit me in the stomach with the butt of his rifle. I screamed.

The soldier told me to pick a rock up from the ground. I picked up a small stone. He told me to pick up a big rock. I picked up a big rock, about the size of a fist. The soldier told me to hit him with it. I didn't do what he said. I didn't know what to do. If I weren't in such pain from the beating, I would have laughed. The soldier told me to put the stone in my mouth. I refused. He spoke to me in a mixture of Hebrew and Arabic.

A few minutes later, 'Alaa returned with the car. The two soldiers searched it carefully, took the car documents, and told us to go to the army control tower. They went with us. At the entrance to the tower area, one of the soldiers lowered my cap so that it covered my face. They sat us down in a tent that had a camouflage cover. 'Alaa sat on a chair next to me. From time to time, a soldier came over to us and asked me about weapons. I told him that he searched the car and didn't find anything. He punched me in the face twice. I had the feeling that the soldier also hit 'Alaa a few times. I heard 'Alaa say, "I want the officer… I want the officer," and the soldier continued to beat him.

The soldiers released 'Alaa and me at 1:50 A.M. I heard a soldier ask 'Alaa why his ID card was torn. 'Alaa told him that he had never been imprisoned, and that he works for an Israeli. I heard the soldier tell him to replace his ID card. Then the soldier removed the cap from my eyes, and I saw that 'Alaas eyes were not covered. The soldier told me to get up and go with him. He led us to the tower gate and told us, in Arabic, "Good night."

We walked home. I got home about 2:30 A.M. My right leg and right hand hurt. For four days, I felt great pain, and my hand still hurts. But I didn't go to the doctor or file a complaint.

'Alaa Nafez 'Abd al-Majid Hilkawi, 20, is a laborer and a resident of the al-Fawwar refugee camp, Hebron District His testimony was given to Musa Abu Hashhash in al-Fawwar refugee camp on 21 February 2006.