Murshid on March 18, 2023, just a few days before his arrest. Photo: Mu’tasim Al-Shawamreh

Since October 7, 2023, I’ve lost my career, my home, my entire life. The war has taken away everything beautiful. It even took away my beloved father, who due to the closure of the borders was unable to receive timely medical care for lung cancer. He passed away within months of his diagnosis in 2024. But one thing the war has not taken from me is my relationship with Murshid Al-Shawamreh, my close friend who lives in the West Bank.

Murshid and I met in January 2023 through my work with the youth council of the Islamic University of Gaza. I wrote an article criticizing the Palestinian Authority for its frequent use of administrative detention and other human rights abuses. In response, Murshid sent me a message on Facebook about working on this issue through a collaborative screenplay project, and from there our relationship developed. Since then we have been in close touch through video calls.

Murshid is from Al-Ram, a suburb of occupied Jerusalem. Like many young Palestinians in the West Bank, he lives caught between a dream of education and the looming threat of administrative detention. One phone call from the Israeli Shin Bet was enough to turn his life upside down: “We will arrest you.”

Days later, Israeli forces stormed his family home at dawn and arrested his brother, Mansour. Not long after, in March 2023, Murshid was also arrested and placed under administrative detention for 18 months without any indictment. Murshid’s other brothers, Mu’tasim and Mohammad, were also arrested, leaving their mother alone and staring at the doors of four prisons, behind which her sons were being held for no crime. Murshid never knew why he was charged. Even the judge didn’t know. “Secret file” was the repeated phrase in every court session.

At Ofer Prison, before the October 7 war on Gaza, Murshid’s cell held six prisoners. Afterwards, 12 people were crammed into the same space. The prisoners slept in shifts; they all shared a single jacket, taking turns every two hours to feel some warmth in the freezing cold.

Murshid on his release from prison. Photo: Mu’tasim Al-Shawamreh

They had barely enough food to keep them alive. After October 7, the food supply was even further diminished, leading to fainting and extreme weight loss. Murshid lost 40 kilograms. During Jewish holidays, meals consisted of one potato and a calorie-free biscuit. They barely had the energy  to speak. Water was available for only one hour each day. When tomatoes were served for the first time in months, the far-right minister Itamar Ben-Gvir reportedly remarked, “Why tomatoes?” Only one and a half tomatoes were shared among the twelve inmates.

During Ramadan, there was no pre-dawn meal, or Suhoor, and Iftar was just enough to survive. Worship became a crime and Qur’ans were banned. Prayers were performed in secret and anyone caught praying was beaten. A 70-year-old man was attacked mid-prayer by 10 soldiers and almost died from the assault.

One prisoner died simply for asking for medical treatment. When Murshid requested pain relief, they told him, “Just die.” Ten soldiers tied him up and beat him; he fainted three times. He was left with broken ribs and unable to move for a month. Mohammed Muneer, one of Murshid’s fellow inmates, died from hunger and ill health. His corpse remained in the cell with the other prisoners for over seven hours. Another prisoner was bleeding, and they were told to notify guards only after his death.

Interrogation was purely emotional and psychological abuse: “We’ll arrest your mother, imprison your children.” There is no respect for any international law. The prisoners had no contact with families and no outside news. Another 70-year-old prisoner was held for 14 months. His crime? A Facebook post against the war.

Inside the cell, scabies spread among the prisoners, causing severe inflammation. Murshid contracted the skin disease and became dependent on others to help him to move. Six out of the 12 inmates became completely immobile. Showers were allowed every two days and the twelve prisoners had only one hour of water among them for bathing. They had no hygiene products, no razors, no shampoo, not even nail clippers. They clipped their nails against the cell walls.

The “Bosta,” or prison transfer van, was nicknamed “the journey of torment.” In Murshid’s final days in prison, he couldn’t even walk. Upon his release in September 2024, he was taken to a hospital and spent 10 days there before continuing treatment at home.

Today, Murshid lives in freedom, but his memory is burdened with pain. Threats of re-arrest continue to haunt him. Images of hunger, beatings, cold, and slow death remain.

Murshid is the most special person in my life. What makes our bond unique is that we share the same mindset and interests. He is passionate about writing and raising awareness about Palestinian prisoners, and I am exactly the same. I’ve learned from him to be strong and steadfast in standing up for what is right. He has taught me to be courageous. He has helped me understand  that no voice should rise above the voice of truth. He has inspired me to carry the Palestinian cause always and to share the suffering of the Palestinian prisoners with the world—without ever stopping.

Editor’s note: Learn more about arbitrary detention and other human rights abuses by the Palestinian Authority in Lawyers for Justice 2024 Annual Report and by the Israeli authorities in reporting by Amnesty International and B’Tselem.