Hanan Abu Salameh photographed with one of her daughters.Credit: איתי רון

Hanan Abu Salameh, 59, was gathering olives with her family in their own grove near the West Bank village of Faqqua, near Jenin, when an Israeli military truck pulled over and a soldier opened gunfire, says her son Fares, 40. His father waved at the man to stop shooting but he went on. Trying to escape, the family ran to their tractor. Hanan fell down on her back. When Fares and Hossam hurried to pick her up, they saw a wound in her chest. They rushed her to the hospital, but it was too late. This is the family’s account of how their first harvest day ended last week. Although occupation authorities had explicitly permitted Faqqua farmers to pick olives, this harvest ended in bloodshed, killing a mother of seven and grandmother of 14. Hanan’s murderer is still walking free and might not even be held to account for her death.

She cried out once ’I was shot’ and fell silent. At she hospital was pronounced dead.

Faqqua is a remote, peaceful northernmost village in the West Bank. The view here is gorgeous: a fertile region with traditional farming and small villages, olive groves and vegetable gardens, a Luna Park and a hotel; no settlers and very few soldiers. This is what the West Bank could look like had it been left to its owners. The separation barrier here was built on stolen lands as houses of Ma’ale Gilboa kibbutz popped up on the other side.

The start of the long drive to the village bodes ill. The road is blocked next to Shavei Shomron settlement. The settlers were celebrating Sukkot and the Palestinians are stranded for hours in huge, tiresome gridlocks on dirt roads and inside villages. The situation, where the minority is celebrating a holiday while the majority bears the consequences, is not food for any thought here. Apartheid? No way. Happy Sukkot and happy holidays.

The military come here several times a week, “just to remind us of the occupation,” one resident says. A couple of years ago we arrived here to document the death of another local woman, Hanan Khadour, 19, killed by soldiers on her taxi drive home from Jenin.

Fares Abu Salameh, the victim’s son, photographed in front of the tractor they used to get to their olive grove.Credit: Itay Ron

Fares Abu Salameh welcomes us in the family’s meticulously kept stone yard by the house on the outskirts of the village. A construction worker in Israel in his past, Fares now works for Mahmoud Abbas’ presidential guard in Ramallah, spending every other week, in his village. His father Hossam, a 66-year-old farmer, went out with a BBC crew to the place where his wife was murdered, to reconstruct the incident. In the United Kingdom, this story seems to draw more attention than in the new kingdom of Israel. Hanan’s six daughters are sitting in the yard with their grandmother, 82. All of them attended university, five of the six are married. The family looks impressively reserved. They say Hanan was the family’s axis.

Hanan Abu Salameh’s mother mourning with the granddaughters.Credit: Itay Ron

According to an investigation by B’Tselem human rights organization researcher Abdulkarim Sadi, after Hanan was hit, the soldiers kept on shooting.

Palestinian schoolgirls who came to comfort Hanan Abu Salameh’s granddaughters.Credit: Itay Ron

On October 15, residents of the village were happy to learn that, after last year’s ban, the Palestinian Liaison Administration issued permission to harvest olives up to 100 meters from the separation barrier. Most villagers went to their groves the very next day. Hossam decided to take her time and see if that was indeed possible.

On October 17, around 7 A.M., Hanan and Hossam set out toward their olive grove, 200 metres from the separation barrier, on on their tractor with an old van chassis harnessed to it. They were in good spirits. Olive harvest is almost a national holiday for them. It is also one of the last sources of income in the West Bank. Once on their property, the aging couple got ready for work. They spread blankets under the trees and leaned ladders against them. Their son joined them a little later.

Around 8:10 A.M., they saw a white security car passing from the other side of the fence and pulling over. One of the soldiers came out and fired warning shot to keep them away from the fence. They were standing about 100 meters from the barrier, as permitted, however, to be on the safe side, Hossam preferred to pull back to 250 meters.

Hanan Abu Salameh’s mother mourning with the granddaughters.Credit: Itay Ron

Hossem Abu Salameh, Hanan’s husband.Credit: Itay Ron

A relative of theirs, Mustapha, 62, was working nearby. He told us this week that soldiers fired teargas at him and his family ordering to keep away from the fence during harvest. So he retreated. Some 350 dunams [350,000 square meters] of the village lands were expropriated to set up the separation fence. Now more olive groves are out of reach as villagers are forbidden to come near the barrier.

Around 10:30 A.M. the military pickup truck suddenly reappeared, four soldiers came out, one knelt down and started shooting, Fares recounts. Trees, he says, were shaking from the shooting.

Scared, Hanan raced toward the tractor, her son and husband followed her. When a bullet hit her in the chest, she fell by the tractor bleeding from the back. The family quickly carried her to the son’s car to rush her to treatment. At the entrance of the neighboring village a Palestinian ambulance took her to the Ibn Sina Hospital in Jenin. On the way, Hanan still showed signs of life. She cried out once “I was shot” and fell silent. At the hospital she was pronounced dead.

According to an investigation by B’Tselem human rights organization researcher Abdulkarim Sadi, after Hanan was hit, the soldiers kept on shooting. Sadi stresses that there had been no stone throwing at the soldiers, nor any other anti-occupation activity. Just a family harvesting olives. The soldiers then left the scene.

Hanan Abu Salameh’s grandchildren.Credit: Itay Ron

“We did not go into Israeli lands,” says Abdallah Barakat, a 70-year-old village resident and a Hebrew lecturer at the open Al-Quds University. “What do you want from us? You want us to leave all our lands. Last year we were not allowed to harvest olives. Now we can’t do it again this year. What should we do? Maybe somebody from the other side will come and help us? Perhaps Israeli men and women of peace will come to the village and be with us until we finish harvesting?” he wonders in his polished Hebrew.

We asked the IDF spokesperson this week whether the soldier who shot to death Hanan Abu Salameh has been arrested for questioning. The spokesperson told Haaretz: “As every year, so during the war too, Israel’s Central Command and the Civil Administration have been preparing for some time for olive harvest in the Judea and Samaria sector, committed both to preserving security and protecting residents, while at the same time making it possible for residents in the area to harvest their crop. The olive harvest season has been planned and coordinated with all relevant elements. IDF forces are protecting the harvest in coordinated areas.”

“In wake of the incident and in light of instructions from Military Advocate, an investigation was launched by the military’s Criminal Investigation Department. Following its conclusion, its findings will be handed to the Military Advocate. The force commanding personnel during the event have been suspended pending the investigations.”

Before we leave, Fares invites us to follow him to the backyard. There, by the goat shed, the garden beds his mother planted for the family are growing green: one for potatoes, one for za’atar. We then drive to the scene of the incident. The father, Hossam, is still standing there amidst the olive trees, a strong farmer who saw his wife shot to death, despite having done nothing wrong. He didn’t shed a tear. He just stood there in silence.

Gideon Levy