An incredibly important post from activist Aviv Tatarsky translated into English. This is what life is like right now in the West Bank: "Last week I went to the homes of several Palestinian friends in one of the villages in the West Bank. At Ahmad’s place I’m happy to also meet the eldest son, Bilal. He looks sick and I ask what happened to him. It turns out that on Tuesday soldiers made him get out of the car that was taking him to work. They kept him handcuffed on the sidewalk at the side of the road for about an hour and a half, together with another eight Palestinians. Tuesday was the day of the storm, and they were kept in the cold with no shelter from the rain. I continue on to Jamal. His wife suffers from a severe chronic illness, and they used to receive the medications almost for free thanks to subsidized health insurance from the Palestinian Authority. A month ago the Ministry of Health informed them there were cuts, and since one of their sons works (not that his salary is sky-high), they are no longer eligible for the subsidized insurance. They don’t have money to pay for private insurance. (The cuts in the Palestinian Authority are a result of the enormous deficit it has fallen into due to ongoing economic sanctions Israel imposes on it—something that almost never makes it into public discourse in Israel.) Jamal also says his brother received notice that the petition against the demolition order issued for his house was rejected—meaning the house may be demolished soon. At Daoud and Hala’s, the TV is on next to the kitchen where we’re eating a late breakfast. Al Jazeera reports on another Israeli bombing in Nuseirat, and the family talks about the dead. Daoud and Hala’s two younger children are still in school—classes take place only three days a week, and even that is because of the PA’s economic crisis, which prevents it from paying teachers’ salaries. I ask Daoud about his orchards. There’s one area he doesn’t go to alone because soldiers attack farmers there. If we organize a few activists to accompany him, he’ll go. The orchard needs plowing now, but he says that instead of plowing he’ll spray (the weeds). “You never spray,” I tell him, and he answers that plowing requires several days of work, and we can’t be there with him for that long. To another orchard he can’t bring a tractor for plowing at all because the army has blocked the road leading to it. And in the area of a third orchard, settlers have started showing up, and sooner or later he won’t be able to reach that one whenever he wants either. Hashem works for an organization that helps farmers. I ask him whether the Israeli decision to expel 30 international aid organizations from the West Bank will affect him. It turns out it will: part of his organization’s activity is funded by Oxfam, which Israel has decided to expel. He expects that when those organizations’ activity stops (around March, if I remember correctly), thousands of Palestinian workers will be fired. The aid those organizations provide supports thousands of farmers and other business owners, and they too will be harmed by the shutdown. Walid’s mother died after years of prolonged illness. In recent months he stopped working so he could be by her side in the hospital. I arrive at the mourning hall; we hug. The PA’s cuts also harm hospitals’ operations—several days ago he was forced to take his mother out of the hospital and bring her home. There, her condition quickly worsened. He called an ambulance, but she died on the way to the hospital. Ziyad has a small shop. Among other things, he sells gas cylinders. People knock on his door to ask whether the supply of cylinders has been renewed. It turns out that a week or two ago Israel decided to cut off the sale of gas to Palestinian companies. Why? Maybe in preparation for the expected war with Iran. But they don’t need a reason, he says. Suppliers can no longer bring gas cylinders, and a shortage has formed throughout the West Bank. Before I leave the village, I see Hassan in the street. I ask him whether there is any news about his son Talal, who has been detained for several years now (accused of stone-throwing). Usually his answer is that he has no news. Israel prevents family visits for Palestinian prisoners, and even a lawyer’s visit is not a simple matter. But not long ago someone who had been imprisoned with him was released, and he came to give an update. It turns out he contracted scabies. This is how, without dramas or horrifying violent events, Israel goes on choking millions of people. Every few weeks it finds a new way to increase the pressure. No home in the West Bank is protected. And every day, new troubles arrive. Anyone who still manages to breathe knows that maybe tomorrow his oxygen supply will be cut off as well." This will end in disaster for everyone. Just like it did in Gaza.