Albanian activist recounts Israeli detention after Gaza Flotilla

Why I joined the Global Sumud Flotilla to Gaza

I have been following the Palestinian cause for almost two decades. When the genocide began three years ago, the images and videos coming out of Gaza, people blown to pieces, entire neighborhoods reduced to rubble, widespread hunger, bloodshed, and immense human suffering, deeply affected my emotional and psychological well-being. At the same time, they compelled me to act. I began speaking out more forcefully, organizing protests across Albania, and trying to shake people out of their comfort so they could confront the reality of what was happening in Gaza. 

However, it was not enough. I kept asking myself: if the people I consider my brothers and sisters are enduring such immense suffering, then the very least I can do is stand alongside them, witness their reality with my own eyes, and share a small part of their burden. I wanted to understand their pain firsthand and do whatever I could to help bring an end to it. So when the opportunity arose, I did not hesitate. I joined the Freedom Flotilla to Gaza, carrying humanitarian aid and a commitment to stand in solidarity with the people of Gaza. 

My wife was half the reason I could join the Gaza mission 

Very few people knew I was planning to sail to Gaza. The first and the only person who knew was my wife. I told her about my intention before March, when I was first invited to take part in the training for the mission. She has long been an activist for the Palestinian cause herself, and despite the immense stress, uncertainty, and worry it placed on her, she gave me her wholehearted support. She understood why I felt compelled to go and never tried to stand in my way. 

In many ways, she was half the reason I was able to undertake the mission at all. Her encouragement, understanding, and strength gave me the confidence to move forward. Without her support, it would have been extremely difficult, perhaps even impossible, to see it through. 

Beyond her, I did not share it with anyone else as I did not want the Albanian government or police to know my intentions. They are heavily influenced by the Israeli regime, and I was afraid they might have stopped me before I ever got the chance to join. 

Joining a Flotilla from Albania to a Greek vessel

I had tried to join the mission the year before, but it was unsuccessful as I was too late. This time, however, the stronger connections I had built through the Free Palestine Collective in Albania opened the right doors. 

After becoming involved with Thousand Madleens to Gaza (TMTG), a solidarity organization working in tandem with the Freedom Flotilla Coalition (FFC), I traveled to Italy in March 2026 to participate in a five-day training program organized by the group. The training brought together participants from different countries and prepared us for the practical, legal, and nonviolent aspects of the mission. 

In early May, I received confirmation that I was selected to join the crew. After completing the training, I flew to Greece, where I boarded my vessel, Kyriakos X. On board were three Greeks, two French participants, one from the United Kingdom, one from South Korea, and me from Albania.  

On May 8, we departed from Crete, a Greek island, to Marmaris, Türkiye, where the flotilla had gathered before setting sail. Despite our different nationalities, languages, cultures, and life experiences, we quickly formed a close-knit team. We shared meals, responsibilities, stories, and long conversations as we sailed. What united us was far greater than what distinguished us: a common commitment to stand in solidarity with the people of Gaza and help deliver humanitarian aid. 

We carried humanitarian aid for Gaza  

There was a strong sense of purpose among everyone on board. We knew that the aid we carried – rice, pasta, canned food, diapers, and hygiene supplies – would not, by itself, end the humanitarian catastrophe happening in Gaza. Yet the mission represented something larger than the cargo in our holds. It was a statement that ordinary people from different countries were unwilling to remain silent in the face of the immense suffering of Palestinians.

We entered international waters on our way to Gaza

Most of the flotilla anchored in Marmaris, Türkiye, while five vessels from the Freedom Flotilla Coalition remained at a nearby Greek island. We stayed there for several days as the organizers completed final preparations for the mission. Crews worked on the Turkish vessels, carried out repairs on others, loaded additional supplies, and coordinated the logistics for the next stage of the journey.  

Although we were still some distance from Gaza, there was a growing sense that the mission was becoming real. The days were filled with uncertainty. Then, once the necessary work was completed, we set sail again and continued our journey toward Gaza. 

We sailed for a day before stopping at another Turkish port further south after encountering rough seas that damaged several boats. Repairs took a few days, during which crews worked to restore the vessels and ensure they were seaworthy for the next stage of the journey. 

On May 16, the entire flotilla set sail again toward Gaza. From that final port, we sailed for 24 hours directly toward our destination without any obstacles. As we entered international waters during the night, anxiety consumed us as we anticipated the possibility of interception in the dark. However, the night passed peacefully. 

I saw the Israeli navy approaching our Gaza flotilla

We were mostly realistic about what lay ahead. We knew interception was the most likely outcome, but everyone still held onto the hope that at least some of the boats would make it through to Gaza. As we waited for coordination from the organizing team, we expected a strategy that would make it as difficult as possible for the Israeli forces to stop us. That final night, we put a plan into action. 

We spent the first night of sailing in exhaustion and constant vigilance, watching, waiting, and bracing for an interception that never came. By morning, relief spread across the boat. People relaxed and felt joyful. Some already sat down for breakfast, while others were still preparing when one of our captains ordered us to put on our life jackets and head to the deck. 

As I prepared breakfast, our French captain told me we might face an interception. At first, I did not believe him, because we were just celebrating that the night passed without incident. Immediately, I grabbed my life vest reluctantly, and rushed to the deck. I skipped most of the mental checklist I had prepared for this moment, including the clothes I wanted to wear and the few personal items I wanted to take. I even told myself it was probably just a drill. 

When I reached the deck, I saw one large Israeli vessel on the horizon and two smaller speedboats racing toward other flotilla ships in the distance. At that moment, I realized; this is it. 

Israeli forces intercepted our Gaza flotilla vessel

One of our captains started the engine and pushed the boat to full speed to outrun them. However, once the Israeli speedboats intercepted the other vessels, they turned and came straight toward us. Over a megaphone, they ordered us to cut the engine and stop the boat. We did not comply and continued moving until they opened fire. A shot struck the structure above our heads. At that point, one of the captains ordered us to stop, as continuing became very dangerous. 

Israeli soldiers boarded our vessel

When the boat finally slowed, Israeli soldiers boarded shouting. They immediately zip-tied everyone’s hands and demanded to know who could steer the vessel. We refused to answer at first, and they began beating us. They tied my hands extremely tightly. When I complained, they dragged me and threw me face-first onto the deck, injuring my knee. They blindfolded me with a cloth bandage and kicked me a couple of times in the ribs. They told me to stop complaining and said they would release my hands once they were ready to process the others. 

The situation escalated further when they grabbed one of our members, used him as a hostage, beat him, and pressed a taser against his neck. At that point, one of our captains could not hold out any longer. She stepped forward and set the vessel on the course they demanded. 

When they transferred us to their speedboat, they untied my hands and removed my blindfold. From that point on, I could see, but they repeatedly tied and untied my hands throughout the process. They also took our spare clothes and removed our shoelaces. 

The worst two nights of my life in Israeli detention

The Israeli soldiers beat us mercilessly. They dragged us by our necks wherever they took us and forced us to keep our heads down at all times. No one was allowed to look up or stand upright.  

They also fired rubber bullets at some of us. One of the shots hit our captain, in the thigh, creating a wound so large that she feared they had severed a vein and that she might bleed to death. They then transferred her to the ship’s clinic. Although they used a rubber bullet, it caused severe injuries. 

We were held aboard a prison vessel

They later moved us by speedboat to a large prison vessel lined with containers. Although they untied our hands once we were inside the container area, they kept us in confinement. Some people did not even have enough space to lie down and had to take turns sleeping. I come from a difficult background, having grown up in a mountainous village in Albania, but I can say without hesitation that those two nights were the hardest of my life.  

During those two days, they continued intercepting other flotilla boats and bringing more people aboard. Meanwhile, we endured freezing temperatures with no proper clothing to keep us warm and no decent place to rest. They gave us only small portions of bread and water, just enough to keep us alive. In response, many detainees began hunger strikes, refusing food and, in some cases, even water through dry hunger strikes. 

Other flotilla detainees reported sexual assault

In my section of the prison vessel, I am not aware of any cases of sexual assault during our time on board. However, there were two large prison vessels in total. People from the second vessel, whom we encountered later, reported that several individuals from their ship were sexually assaulted. 

An Israeli soldier asked me, ‘Do you remember my eyes?’

As the prison vessel moved, it repeatedly changed direction, heading toward locations where other flotilla boats were being intercepted. Eventually, however, it turned south toward Israel and the port of Ashdod. 

When they processed us off the vessel, Israeli soldiers singled out a Turkish fellow who repeatedly shouted “Free Palestine” throughout our detention. As we filed through a corridor between the containers, with the exit on one side and an open area on the other, they pulled him aside and beat him as a group. We could hear his cries from the yard.  

Hearing his cries echo through the yard, we refused to move. No one was willing to continue until they brought him back. Instead, the soldiers identified one of the people among us who was speaking up and taking on a leadership role. A group of soldiers approached him, shot him at close range with rubber bullets, and dragged him away. Fear spread quickly through the crowd as people fell back into compliance, and the soldiers resumed processing us one by one. 

I was the last person they processed. They deliberately kept me until the end. As they moved my passport to the bottom of the pile, I immediately understood what that meant. 

When they took me toward the exit, one soldier stepped closer and asked, “Do you remember my eyes?” I knew immediately who he was. The day before, when the soldiers opened fire in response to people screaming from inside the containers, I shouted “Free Palestine” back at them and locked eyes with one of the soldiers aiming in my direction. Now, as he stood in front of me at the exit, I knew what was about to happen, yet I did not run, resist, or shout. 

As I stepped out, a group of soldiers began hitting me. They slapped me, drove a knee into my thigh, punched me in the stomach, and struck my ribs with an object I still cannot identify. Then they dragged me away. Two weeks later, the pain in my ribs is still there, slowly fading but not yet gone. 

Ben Gvir entered the tent where flotilla detainees were held 

Interestingly, I was there when Ben Gvir, Israel’s National Security Minister, entered the large tent where they were holding us after transporting us from the prison ship. The soldiers tied us up, forced our heads to the ground, and placed us in stress positions after continuous beating. I was in one of the corners, but I saw him as he entered with his entourage, spoke in Hebrew, appeared to taunt us, boasted to those around him, and then left shortly afterward. 

We remained in that tent for four or five hours. People repeatedly called for doctors while others fainted or lay in pain with broken ribs. I watched one soldier strike a member of our group in the face and head while he lay on the ground. He then stood on him and kicked him, seemingly for no reason other than to assert control. Those hours felt endless. 

At one point, the man directly in front of me lost consciousness. I was listening to his breathing, and then suddenly I could not hear it anymore. I reached out and touched his hand, but there was no response. I called for a doctor, and they eventually took him away. 

Beside him lay a Turkish man with several broken ribs. The pain was so severe that he could not move. I asked for help three times. The first two times, soldiers came, looked at him, and walked away. Only after my third request did they finally take him. 

Israeli forces transferred us to a prison facility

From the tent, they moved us to a makeshift processing area staffed by civilian authorities, where they questioned us about our reasons for being in Israel. There, we received legal interpretation from Adalah, the legal center for Arab minority rights in Israel. Compared to everything that happened before, this stage felt more manageable. 

After the questioning, they carried out a physical search. We removed all our clothes and then dressed again behind curtains in small rooms while two soldiers stood present. After that, they loaded us onto a prison bus, and we waited for hours, first for the bus to fill, then for the long drive to the prison facility.  

They moved us from room to room and place to place, then herded us into a large cage. It was a proper cage, designed for humiliation. There was nowhere to sit, yet they ordered us to sit down anyway. There was no option but to comply, despite the discomfort it caused. 

Finally, they took us to prison rooms for the night. Most people received a blanket and somewhere to sleep. I did not get a bed or a mat, only a blanket. I lay down directly on the floor, trying to make it through the night as the cold seeped into my body. 

We were deported from Israel without explanation

On the fourth day in the iron cage, they asked us whether we wanted to go home. Anyone who wanted to leave as soon as possible had to sign a paper stating that intention along with their name. Many signed, having reached complete exhaustion and unable to endure any more. Others refused, following the advice of the Adalah lawyers who represented us. I was among those who refused. 

During the legal process, they brought us before a judge one by one. The questions were simple: what is your name, where are you from, do you have a valid passport, and do you want to go home? Most people answered yes. Some challenged the process, asking why they were detained, and demanding to return to their ship. In the end, no one was formally told they were being sent home; they were only asked whether they wanted to go. 

We realized we were being taken to Eilat Airport

Then, one morning, without explanation, they loaded us onto a prison bus and drove us away. No one told us where we were going or what would happen next. We could only assume deportation. We only realized we were heading to an airport when someone spotted a sign through the narrow gaps in the bus windows; Eilat Airport. 

It became clear that they were deporting us, including those of us who refused to sign the paper. Around midday, we boarded a plane. We first flew to Türkiye, and from there continued to our home countries. 

My Gaza flotilla detention changed the conversation in Albania

When I landed in Albania on May 22, the first people I met were the police. They took me directly to an interrogation room and questioned me for two hours about the trip to Gaza and the mission. As a practicing Muslim, visibly identifiable in my appearance, it did not feel like a welcome. It felt like religious profiling that is not unfamiliar for Muslim citizens in Albania. 

When I finally walked out, my wife was waiting for me, along with my two sons. A couple of dozen people from the Free Palestine collective in Albania stood with them including friends, co-activists, and people who had been waiting for my return. It was an emotional moment as they all cheered and received me with heartfelt warmth. 

My detention became national news in Albania

Upon my arrival, I realized I had become a public figure in Albania. While I was in Israeli detention, the video I recorded onboard the vessel spread widely across the media, and the case was raised in the Albanian parliament by a deputy. During that time, my wife stepped in to carry much of the emotional weight, giving interviews to keep the story alive and maintain public attention. Everywhere I turned, people were asking the same questions; who I was, why I joined the mission, and what could drive someone to risk their life like that. 

The impact on public awareness has been significant. Just yesterday, a neighbor told me she knew nothing about the Palestinian cause until news of my abduction broke, and that she began learning from that moment. It felt meaningful, as discussion about the genocide, and my government’s position, which I see as a troubling defiance of international law and human morality through its alignment with a genocidal regime, continues to grow. 

I would sail to Gaza again, but hope we never have to 

I carry no bitterness about what I went through. If anything, I feel a deep sense of gratitude that I was able to witness even a small part of what my brothers and sisters in Palestine have endured for decades, and especially over these last three years. 

I was asked many times since returning home whether I would join the mission again. My answer is yes. I understand what that means for the people who love me. Being in Israeli detention carries a real risk that things could go very wrong, even that I might not return. I do not want to put my family and friends through that fear again, but I remain open to it. 

My deeper hope, however, is that we never need another flotilla. I hope the international community will resolve the Palestinian issue politically, once and for all, and secure the Palestinian people’s right to self-determination to live in peace and dignity. 

My message to the world is to stop dividing everything into left and right. Start judging political leaders by a simpler, more honest measure; are they pro-genocide or anti-genocide? Vote accordingly. Support those who stand for freedom and human dignity, and reject those who enable or defend mass suffering. Those who support genocide should not be entrusted with leadership or the power to decide over other people’s lives.