Muhannad al-Khafesh
I was born in Rafidiyah Hospital, in Nablus, to a family from Marda Village. My parents were negligent and didn't register me at birth with the Israeli Civil Administration, which was responsible for registering Palestinians. So I didn't receive an ID number. My parents also lost my birth certificate, which proved that I was born at the hospital in Nablus.
At the time, there weren't computers, and I had no way to prove I was born there, until I got to first grade. It was then that my father realized the problem resulting from his not having registered me at the Civil Administration. When the school did not agree to register me without a birth certificate, he went to the Mukhtar of the village, who made a declaration to the Civil Administration in Beit El, and they issued me a birth certificate, but without an ID number. My father wanted to register me, but the officials said, because I was over five years old, it was too late.
Since then, I have been suffering because of my situation. Over the years, I went to all possible ministries in the Palestinian Authority, but they told me that the PA did not have the power to issue an ID number, and that I had to request family unification.
In 1996, I submitted a request for internal family unification to the Palestinian Interior Ministry in Ramallah. Each time I checked on the status of my request, the officials told me that it was in Israel's hands, and that the PA couldn't do anything since only the Israelis had the authority to issue ID numbers.
In early 2000, I finished a confectionery course and began to work in a confectionery shop in Ramallah. When the second intifada broke out, my life changed completely. The army put checkpoints everywhere, and I couldn't cross without an identity card. I had to quit my job and was imprisoned at home. My village doesn't have a confectionery shop, and it doesn't pay to open one since the village has only 2,500 residents. My brothers are now supporting my wife and me. I don't know how long that can continue.
In 2004, my blood pressure was high and I had to get to the hospital in Salfit. On the way, at the Za'tara checkpoint, soldiers detained me for twelve hours. They let my mother and the driver go after four hours or so. They cuffed my hands and blindfolded me. I told them that I was sick and on the way to the hospital, but they didn't believe me. One of them told me, “You're sick?” When I said I was, he replied, “So die.” Of course, they didn't believe I didn't have an ID card, and asked, “How did you get here? Did fall from the sky?” In the end, they told me to go back where I came from.
Generally, when I explain to soldiers why I don't have an ID card, they mock me. They used to say, “Let Abu Amar (Arafat) give you an ID card,” and now they say, “Ask Hamas to give you an ID card.” These insults really hurt.
I don't know what will happen to me if I suddenly get seriously ill. In my village, there are no specialist physicians or hospital. There is only a Health Ministry clinic that provides basic health services. The clinic is open Sunday-Thursday until 2:00 P.M., and is closed on Friday and Saturday.
I also had problems when I wanted to get married. My wife lived in the Qalqiliya area, and to get to her home to ask her parents' permission to marry her, I had to travel a long distance on foot. I walked along dirt roads to avoid soldiers at checkpoints. During our entire engagement, which lasted nine months, I visited her five times at most, and only when we had to make preparations for the engagement ceremony and the wedding. The biggest problem was making the marriage contract, given I didn't have an ID number. At first, the Sharia court in Salfit refused to issue the contract. They agreed only when I showed them documents from the Marda local council, affidavits from the many people who know me, and a special religious decision given by the mufti, indicating that it was permissible to perform the marriage ceremony because marriage is the natural right of every person, and to keep me from the path of abomination.
After I married, my wife and I went to the Interior Ministry to update her ID card to show that she was married. The officials insulted me when I told them I didn't have an ID card, and said it was impossible to update her ID card.
Since I married, early this year, I have not visited my wife's parents. My dream is to travel freely to Qalqiliya to visit my wife's parents, or just to go out with her or buy goods and clothes for the holiday. I don't even buy my own clothes. My mother or my friends buy them.
I don't know what will happen if I have children. How can I register them on my name?
When soldiers make an incursion into Marda, I have to hide like a thief. I don't know where to go. Two weeks ago, soldiers came to my house and demanded my ID card. I gave them an identification card given me, in 2005, by the Palestinian Interior Ministry in Salfit. The card does not have an ID number. They soldiers took me outside and a few of them hit me with the butts of their rifles and punched and kicked me. One of them put me back in the house and forbade me to leave. They threatened me, saying that if I stick my nose out the window, they would shoot me. I remained imprisoned in the house until they left.
I dream of the day I'll get an ID number. I want to be able to cross all the checkpoints in the West Bank just to show everyone that I have an ID card. Sometimes, I get pessimistic. I said to my mother and wife that, if I die and have an ID card, they should bury it with me.
There are times that I feel death is the only solution for my problem. In the next world, I am certain nobody asks anybody about his ID card.
Muhannad Na'im Haris al-Khafesh, 30, married and unemployed, is a resident of Marda Village in Salfit District. His testimony was given to Salma a-Deba'i at the witness's home on 30 March 2008.
