Azzam Azzam, Loyal Citizen

Adapted from "Jerusalem", May 18, 2007
Yaniv Alfia

Two and a half years ago, Azzam "lucky to have been born in Israel and proud of it" Azzam was released from Egyptian prison. (I remember the moment he crossed the border into Israel and someone handed him a cell phone to call his family. All he said - in Hebrew - was "I am in Israel" and his family at the other end of the line burst into hysterical shouts of joy).
He has become a celebrity: people stop to talk to him, ask for his signature. People love him, want to talk to him and shake his hand, and Azzam is all too eager to tell his story (I can vouch for that: I saw him one day at the Hadassah Hospital in Jerusalem, and I smiled and nodded at him. He immediately stretched out his hand, and I asked him how he was, and told him how happy I was to see him out of prison. We made small talk for a couple of minutes and parted Israeli style - wishing each other all the best. He looks very fragile, but his huge smile and lively eyes exude warmth and confidence.)
Coming home was difficult and painful for Azzam: "I wasn't able to lie down in bed, literally, because it felt like floating in outer space. I told my wife that I had to sleep on the floor. So we placed mattresses on the floor and slept on them during the first night. The next night I slept alone on the floor. Eventually I got used to sleeping in bed once again."
When the media coverage died down, Azzam was left alone, confused, with nothing to do, a stranger to his own children – without a future. "My wife noticed there was something wrong with me, that I was different. I wasn't really there. I was afraid of crowds. Once I ran away from home to be alone in the woods. So I was taken to Jerusalem for psychiatric treatment. I talked to doctors and nurses several times a day. I read books and watched TV. I was given a room of my own. One day the doctors found me writing on a piece of paper the names of all the wardens and officers I had met in jail. They told me, Azzam, it's OK, writing is good. I felt better when I left hospital. The staff who treated me encouraged me keep telling my story because people will want listen to me: You have got to get it out of your system."
So Azzam is telling his story, mainly on weekends. He is a cherished guest in private homes. He is fully booked in advance. The story brings tears to the eyes of his listeners. People tell their friends about him. The establishment has also become interested: public institutions, the army, different organizations.
- What do you tell your audience?
- I am simply telling my story. I warn them that they will hurt and become emotional. I tell them to look at me and follow my example. If I can smile after all I have been through, they should also smile. Then I tell them – I am Azzam Azzam, Israeli Druze from Mrar (a village where people, including a relative of Azzam's were killed by Katyusha strikes during the second Lebanon war). I am married with four children. I have six brothers. My oldest brother died in the Yom Kippur war. I served in the IDF. I was a sewing machine technician who went to Egypt to train workers in the textile industry.
- Tears fill the eyes of the audience when I tell them about my family. I show them this 15 minutes DVD presentation, with news clips and all sorts of pictures. People see my children before my arrest, and also eight years later, when I was released.
After my release a lot of people contacted me and wanted to hear my story. The IDF and IAF wanted me to speak to soldiers. My friend Mofaz (Shaul) told me that I could motivate young people before they join the army. I tell them that one can deal with getting into trouble and that one need not collapse under pressure. I assure them that the State of Israel looks after its citizens, Jews or non-Jews. I tell them to value this country and refrain from being too judgmental. Nobody values what they have until it is taken away from them.
(The following is for all those who claim that Arab detainees, mostly terrorists, are being abused in Israeli jails. Four Jordanian murderers were released from Israeli prison this week at the request of King Abdullah. Once in Jordan they complained about the bad treatment they received at the hands of the Israilis, who do not value human life. Can they beat Azzam's story? And please remember that Azzam did in fact spare us the most gory details. The abuse is absolutely incomprehensible and unbearable). Azzam recalls what he went through, mainly while being held in the underground facilities of the Egyptian intelligence (intelligence, yeah, right, Egyptian intelligence is a good one). He was tied upside down above a tub of ice-cold water. His interrogators would lower him repeatedly into the tub until his head was completely submerged. They told him to confess unless he wanted to be cut up into pieces and fed to the crocodiles in the Nile. There is not one inch of his body that has not been subjected to electric shocks. How DID he survive for over eight years, or more precisely 2,950 days, in a windowless cell measuring 250x185 cm, with a threadbare mattress, three blankets, one pillow and two plastic buckets, one with water to wash his face, the other to be used as a toilet? How did he survive the fist four months without being allowed to shower? How did he survive on two bowls of fava beans a day? He wasn't allowed a drink of tea for several long months, until one of his jailers took pity on him and improvised a paper funnel to drip the precious liquid into his mouth through the latticed peephole. As he speaks, Azzam shuts his eyes and inhales the aroma of the warm drink. The people in the audience feel for him.
He shows everybody the tiny wireless radio provided for him by the Israeli Embassy in Cairo and a jumping rope. (The Arab criminals jailed in Israel can watch TV, use computers and talk on the phone, yet Israilis do not value human life and treat prisoners badly). He jumped rope counting to 28,000 every day. This is how he killed time and kept his sanity in his tiny cell. (Arab terrorists jailed in Israel are allowed to study for academic degrees, alas, in Hebrew, and can obtain Bachelor's and Master's degrees in political sciences, geography, history, etc., yet it is the Israilis who treat prisoners badly and do not value human life).
The radio has a special place in Azzam's story of how he survived in hell: he improvised an aerial from a piece of wire, tied it to the door and fiddled with the buttons until he heard "This is Radio Israel Station B, the morning news show with Aryeh Golan." This is how I became a dedicated consumer of Radio Israel news programs. It felt as if the entire State of Israel was sitting with me in my cell. I felt closer to home."
Two and a half years into captivity, all hope of freedom seemed lost, and Azzam tried to kill himself. He started complaining of headaches and backaches and the guards would bring him painkillers, which he hid in a plastic bag. One day he was supposed to receive news from Israel. But the news never came. Feeling hopeless and abandoned, he swallowed the pills: "You only live once. My cell was not fit to house a human being. My wife had to see me like this. My brothers were angry. That was no life for me. I wanted to die. After I took the pills I felt terrible abdominal pain, I became dizzy and I threw up. I was foaming and bubbling at the mouth. I must have passed out, because the next thing I remember was lying in bed in the prison infirmary. The doctor told me they had pumped by stomach. He gave me a mirror and told me to look at myself: I was unrecognizable, emaciated with bloodshot eyes. He encouraged me: Only an innocent man would try to take his own life. Prove to them that you are not a spy."
Two weeks later, Azzam's brother Sami came to see him in prison and was very angry when he heard about the suicide attempt: "What are you trying to accomplish? We are working hard for your release. Do you want your wife to become a widow? Your children orphans? We are doing all we can to support them and you want to kill yourself?" It was then that Azzam realized that he wanted to prove his innocence and be able to return to Israel as a proud man.
After more than eight years in Egyptian prison, Azzam did indeed return to Israel as a proud man. He even talked to PM Ariel Sharon on the phone, and later met him at the Sheraton Hotel in Tel-Aviv where he was taken from the Taba border crossing. His brother had brought him the Israeli flag and some new clothes. Azzam proudly wrapped himself in the Israeli flag: "I was an Israeli soldier, I pledged allegiance to the state, I am a proud Israeli (you hear that, Avrum Burg?), and I am not ashamed of the Israeli flag."
Despite his great love for our country and despite his gratitude and love for Arik Sharon whom he calls his father, his liberator, despite the publicity and media coverage, Azzam is having a hard time regaining normalcy. He cannot find employment, he is frustrated and depressed. He seems to find solace in touring the country and telling his story again and again, in talking to young soldiers about Zionism and values. He can't let go of prison, and prison won't let go of him. He has nightmares and cries in his sleep. "Only last week my wife told me that I was talking and shouting in my sleep."
He was invited to light a beacon on Israel's Independence Day. As long as people recognize him in the street, as long as ministers and MK's call him on the phone, as long as he is an honored guest at the ceremonies for the completion of IDF officer courses, Azzam Azzam is there to share his experiences again and again.
- Are you a hero?
- I'm no hero.
- What are you then?
- A loyal citizen. (How do YOU plead, Avrum Burg?)