Ramallah's struggle for survival

Israel's army has occupied Ramallah since 29 March

By Barbara Plett BBC correspondent in Ramallah

Selwa Dheis is looking at her office window.

"Yesterday, I saw their laundry hanging there," she says. "It seems they are here to stay."

Two tanks and two armoured personnel carriers block the door to the building where Selwa has worked for 15 years. She does research on economic development and human rights for a non-governmental organisation called the Miteen group.

I wish I could freeze myself and stay in a freezer for a month until this nightmare is over

Selwa Dheis

She last left her workplace in a hurry, hearing that Israeli soldiers were about to invade. Now it has been turned into the army's operations headquarters in the West Bank city of Ramallah.

"We have lots of very rare and unpublished documents and books," she says.

"My computer, actually my whole life is in there, including my 15-year-old cactus which I think is dead by now, it's awful."

Search continues

As the occupation of Ramallah enters its third week residents are still reeling from the assault on their community.

The fighting has stopped, but the army continues searching buildings for weapons and wanted men as part of its military operation to crush the Palestinian militias that send suicide bombers to Israel.

Aid workers have been working to bring food to the city

People confined to their homes regularly hear explosions as soldiers blow open locked doors.

Government buildings, private offices and homes have been ransacked.

Brief periods of freedom break up a strict curfew with a few hours to assess the damage and catch up on several days of errands.

Selwa hurries to buy chicken before the butcher runs out, to spice up the curfew cuisine she is cooking for her mother, sister and niece.

"I'm so good at making and inventing vegetarian and rice based dishes," she laughs.

"Rice in the morning, rice for lunch, rice for dinner."

A queue has already formed, in the line there is a sense of solidarity under siege.

"When there is peace I hope we will all meet," says one elderly woman. "Come and have lunch with us."

Selwa heads to a nearby village to bring food to Um Emad, the woman who cleans her office.

No gas or electricty

Like many day labourers Um Emad and her husband have no cash now, so they have to rely on hand outs and invention.

Um Emad proudly shows us a wood stove she built out of an old washing machine in the garden, there is no cooking gas or electricity, and she has to bake bread for her five children.

I wanted to run and run and never turn my face back, because of the damage to Ramallah, the damage to our very identity, everything that makes us a people was damaged

Cedar Duaybes

Munching washing machine bread we are off again to visit Selwa's mother, Cedar Duaybes.

Her house is near the ruined headquarters of the Palestinian Leader Yasser Arafat.

Soldiers occupied it for four days when the army first laid siege to the compound.

"I miss my normal daily routine, my colleagues, my friends," Selwa says as we navigate bumpy detours to avoid the trenches and barriers blocking main roads.

"Sometimes I feel numb, I have no feelings, no emotions, like shutting off. I wish I could freeze myself and stay in a freezer for a month until this nightmare is over."

Trauma

She points out the sights as we enter her mother's neighborhood: to the left electricity and telephone poles lie where they were knocked down by armoured vehicles, to the right her friend's car, crumpled like a piece of paper by a tank.

Mrs Duaybes is still cleaning up after the soldiers.

"Everything was covered with food," she tells me, leaning on her mop. "There were tins of sardines and garbage on the floor, this curtain was ripped, and they had wiped their hands with ketchup on it.

"They put out their cigarettes in some places, the beds were a mess, the bathroom was a mess, they used it in an uncivilised way.

"They didn't steal anything, but they tore up some family pictures."

The trauma of the past two weeks comes spilling out.

"When we met our friends in the street, every other mother said she didn't know where her sons were, or her husband," she says.

"My sons are abroad, so I thought I shouldn't complain, but I wanted to run and run and never turn my face back, because of the damage to Ramallah, the damage to our very identity, everything that makes us a people was damaged.

Rebuilding lives

"The suicide bombings are wrong, but just a few people are doing that, the Israelis didn't have to punish everyone.

"How will they continue to live in this part of the world after they've done all this? Even for their sake this was damaging."

Water and disinfectants are restoring the house, but it still does not feel like home, she says.

We walk outside, the garden wall has been damaged but the carefully tended flowers are richly yellow, purple and orange in springtime splendour.

"I want to rebuild myself," says Mrs. Duaybes.

"We need to rebuild ourselves as a people.

"I think we have the strength to do that, because we have no other option."