Heba Muraisi’s body is failing her. Approaching her 66th day on hunger strike while imprisoned, the 31-year-old struggles to breathe and concentrate, each passing moment chipping away at her strength.
She painstakingly recorded her answers to questions, knowing her focus is rapidly diminishing. “As each day passes I get weaker,” she stated, her voice likely strained, “aches worsen, headaches are frequent and concentrating is extremely difficult.”
The physical toll is immense. Muraisi describes a body that shakes, dizziness that brings nausea, and now, a terrifying difficulty in simply breathing. She feels herself deteriorating, facing a grim reality within the prison walls.
Muraisi, from Barnet, north London, awaits trial connected to a protest at a research facility owned by Elbit Systems, a UK subsidiary of an Israeli defense firm. She was arrested in a dawn raid last November, and her trial isn’t scheduled until June – potentially marking nearly two years in pre-trial detention.
She views the prison system itself as oppressive, a facade of rehabilitation masking a harsh reality. Communication has been severely restricted: visitors denied, phone calls blocked, even correspondence with doctors ignored. Her legal team, she says, has been consistently overlooked.
A chilling threat of forced relocation loomed on day 45 of her strike, delivered by a custodial manager and senior officer. She was moved, separated from the fragile support network she’d built, and a newfound friend was quickly transferred as well.
Heba is not alone. Teuta Hoxha, Kamran Ahmed, and Lewie Chiaramello are also engaged in the hunger strike, while others have temporarily paused their participation. All eight face charges related to protests targeting Elbit and RAF Brize Norton.
Their demands are stark: an end to censorship within the prison system, immediate bail, a fair trial, the de-proscription of Palestine Action, and the closure of Elbit Systems. Muraisi has vowed to continue her protest until these demands are met.
Strength comes from unexpected places. Muraisi draws power from the solidarity of supporters and the fervent prayers of her mother, especially poignant as family resides in Rafah, Gaza. But alongside this hope is a raw, visceral fear.
“I’m well aware that things could turn at any minute, I’m terrified, I’d be stupid not to be,” she admitted. After 409 days on remand, and a recent 188-mile transfer away from her family, the isolation is crushing.
Daily calls with her mother offer a lifeline, but even those were disrupted when the prison cut off her phone line, causing immense distress. While her family doesn’t necessarily endorse her actions, they understand the profound convictions driving her.
Healthcare providers state they are providing compassionate, evidence-based care, monitoring those refusing food according to established protocols. The government insists there’s no evidence of prison officers obstructing medical attention.
A government spokesperson acknowledged the ongoing hunger strikes, stating they are not uncommon, and that procedures are in place to ensure prisoner safety. They emphasized that healthcare is provided and hospital treatment is sought when needed.
However, the spokesperson also highlighted the seriousness of the charges – aggravated burglary and criminal damage – and defended the independence of the judiciary, stating ministers will not intervene in ongoing legal cases. The system, they claim, must run its course.
The situation remains critical, a desperate act of protest unfolding within the confines of HMP New Hall, fueled by conviction, fear, and the unwavering hope for justice.
