We got money to buy fabrics to make flags and spray paint cans to write graffiti and were, in fact, the first people to write graffiti in the city of Hebron. I remember that the first slogan I wrote was, Fel tistammer al-Intifada ("The Intifada must continue"). This was all happening in the beginning of 1988.
By the beginning of March 1988, I was officially "wanted" by Israel. Soldiers came to my home looking for me. My oldest brother was arrested after being caught in an ambush. He was carrying lots of petrol cans in his car and it was obvious that they were not simply frightened of running out of petrol! After two days, we still didn't know where he was, until someone called me and said, "Listen, your brother's car is outside Hebron prison. Go and pick it up."
The organisers in each city used to write a draft for what would appear in the next Unified National Leadership leaflet. One day, I was taking a draft from Hebron to Jerusalem, to discuss it with members of the committee. We had certain things we wanted to see in the next one.
On the way to Jerusalem, via the backroads of Bethlehem, we were stopped by an Israeli jeep. There was a Palestinian flag on a nearby electrical tower, a huge one. The soldiers told us to climb up and take the flag down. I told them, "I don't work for you. It is not my business. I am not going to die doing this." He said, "There is no electricity, it's safe to go up." I repeated that it was not my concern and I wasn't going to climb up. They took our ID cards and searched the car, and for a moment it was tense, but fortunately they did not find the leaflet. They told us, "If you don't get the flag down, we are keeping your ID cards." We didn't give a damn and continued to Jerusalem, returning later to Hebron.
About a week later, I went to the entrance of the prison. People who lose their ID cards know that this is where they end up. It was risky to try and collect it, as they might put me in prison if the soldier checked if I was wanted but - hey - you needed it to move around. I went as if I was really stupid and naive, telling the soldier, "I lost my ID card and the soldiers told me I might be able to find it here." I saw it in a pile and pointed it out. "Is this your ID card?" he asked and I looked at it and said that it was. I figured I could run away successfully if necessary as there was only one of him. He handed it to me without pausing, and I left!
My father was arrested at that time, as a means to get me to surrender. He had diabetic and heart problems and was in some danger, but he passed a message to me that, "It is up to you if you want to give yourself up or surrender but please, don't die, okay? And look after yourself."
Quixotic "Fuck Isreal" graffiti in Jerusalem's Old City, 1989. Photo by Nigel Parry.