Note to the reader: this is a guest post from my friend B., another girl from Boston (what is it about us and the Arab world??) who lives here in Ramallah and got caught in a violent reaction form the Israeli armed forces to a peaceful protest in a Palestinian village. This included running from tear gas and hiding in a stranger's house for hours while the army made arrests. Harvard alum, future NYU law school student, she's smart and quick and extremely articulate, unlike your dear usual blogger. All that to say, this post is worth your time.
_________________________________________________________________________
Part I: Giving some context
The last couple of weeks have been extremely sad for Palestine, and much media attention has been appropriately devoted to the tragic deaths of Juliano Mer-Khamis, founder of the Jenin Freedom Theatre, and Vittorio Arrigoni, an Italian activist dedicated to the Palestinian cause. Although tragedy sometimes becomes almost a daily part of existence here, and there has been no shortage of sad things occurr
ing in Palestine of late (the murder of the Fogel family and the subsequent collective punishment of Awarta village springs to mind) I believe that these two deaths have hit hard the Palestinian community, the expat community, and myself personally, for a few reasons. One, the killings were not perpetrated by Israel (ostensibly anyways, although articles of speculation on that have already appeared on the internet). It becomes almost a joke to blame everything on Israel and the occupation (an aside: on a late-night trip back from Jerusalem many months ago my carmates were discussing how it was not possible for the PA to paint the frequent speed bumps in the road, as the Israelis had banned the yellow colored paint needed. Sleepily I asked why they didn’t just pain the bumps white. A silent beat before everyone hushed me joking “We must blame the occupation!”) Tragedies perpetrated by Israel against Palestinians are so frequent that it becomes a matter of course, loses its shock value, and even provides a convenient common enemy, one whose cruelty is understood as both incomprehensible and common.
Two, the victims were both prominent peace activists, who had chosen to live and work amongst Palestinians out of principle and commitment to the cause. Vittorio was Italian and Juli
ano had Israeli citizenship—unlike West Bank and Gazan Palestinians, they could move freely; neither had to be here. In short, they were much like us. Perhaps I am more naïve than my fellow expats (likely) but I’ve dismissed any sort of danger coming from Palestinians because I am here for the cause. I am pro-Palestinian. I believe in this people’s right to exist not just in the West Bank and Gaza but in all of historic Palestine and anywhere else they choose to live. Palestinians are my friends and coworkers and students and neighbors and I don’t buy into the Islamophobia that my home country espouses—the kind of Islamophobia that says that radical Muslims (or any Muslim) are capable of the type of senseless violence that these two deaths encapsulate. The truth is, though, some are. Palestine is filled with just as many complexities as any other country in the world – atrocious and inhumane violence is not inherent to the people, place, or religion, but neither is it nonexistent.
Nevertheless, these two instances are extremely tragic and extremely rare. I tell my fam
ily that I am safer in Palestine than I am in the US and that is true. These freak instances of politically motivated tragedy are extremely infrequent – there have been no kidnappings since Hamas, the “terrorist” group, took over in 2007, and even before then, all those who were kidnapped were eventually released unharmed. No less to consider is the violence inflicted on peace activists by the IDF -- Emily Henochowicz, the flotilla and Rachel Corrie come to mind. I do not believe in condoning one tragedy by pointing out another, but I mention these to point out the institutionalized violence and discrimination against Palestinians and pro-Palestinian activists that the IDF, and by extension Israel, embodies. Rachel Corrie’s death could be argued to have been an accident, but the slow and unsympathetic Israeli justice system is only now ruling on it, seven years after her death. I have no doubt that if Vittorio’s killers are found, their “trial” will be as swift and damning as Rachel Corrie’s is slow and exculpatory.
Part II: Going peacefully
Strangely I wrote all of the above intending it to be an introduction for the record of my experiences in Nabi Saleh. The point I was laboriously not making is that, though the deaths of Juliano and Vittorio are shocking and sad, they should not overwhelm what needs to be said about the tragedies occurring every day in Palestine against peace activists, by Israel as a matter of unwritten policy. I do believe that both of them would be disappointed to know that the manner of their deaths undermined the work of their lives.
A little over a week ago myself and a gang of young Palestinian activists headed out to Nabi Saleh, a village not far from the university town of Bir Zeit. Nabi Saleh is a small town, with a little over 500 residents. Since 1977 a settlement called Halamish has existed near Nabi Saleh, and in 2009 the settlers took over a spring belonging to a Palestinian family; it is the main source of water in this rural village and the residents are now only allowed 6 hours of running water per week. Since then demonstrations have been held every Friday to protest, and participants try to march towards the spring to assert their right over it. In response to these demonstrations, the IDF declares the entire village of Nabi Saleh to be a closed military zone each Friday, where even the residents are not allowed to leave their homes. This gives the IDF the “legal” power to arrest any Israelis, foreigners or non-residential Palestinians in Nabi Saleh on that day.
For this reason our service ( pronounced “servees”, a shared taxi) was not able to drive directly into Nabi Saleh. The driver agreed to take us around the entrance to the town which was guarded by IDF, adding time to our journey (and shekls to our fare). We were dropped off on a terraced valley and had to pick our way through the olive groves up into the village, approaching from the rear. Several times we had to stop along the wa
y and fall silent, in order to avoid being spotted by soldiers.
Within our group were some who had been demonstrating in the Manara against the division between Fatah and Hamas which has divided Gaza from the West Bank since elections in 2006 and crippled the unified Palestinian movement against the occupation. Many had embarked on a hunger strike roughly three weeks before that day – two remained were with our group. He said he hadn’t eaten in 18 or 19 days, and I was skeptical as he tromped with us through the valley in the heat, but I didn’t see anything other than coffee and cigarettes pass his lips, even as we all sat down for falafel. When he took off his sweater, his shrunken frame convinced me.
We made it to the town and gathered in the city square, where people were filling balloons with paint and handing them out to the kids, in an effort to discourage them from throwing rocks. (I thought this was a good idea until later when I was told that the IDF didn’t differentiate between the two, and people were scrubbing tell-tale paint stains from their hands as they hid from the soldiers). I began to ask about what would happen and what I should do. A friend helpfully updated her advice to me – she’d earlier told me that if they shot tear gas, I should run slowly. And if they chased us? “No. Then you run fast.”
We began to march, people carrying Palestinian flags and water balloons and not much else. I
hung back and avoided cameras and video. I’d been to one other demonstration before, where the IDF had brought their own photographers to snap pictures of faces, obviously to be used later to make people’s lives difficult. It’s been reported that Israeli soldiers have entered homes in Nabi Saleh, awoken all children over the age of 10, and photographed them, most likely to identify them should they participate in any demonstrations. Considering that Israel has full control over whether Palestinians can leave the West Bank, visit Jerusalem, and pass between cities among other things, having a record with them can have long-lasting and serious consequences. This is one way Israel deters peaceful protesting.
As we walked down the road, not far from the city center an IDF jeep was already waiting for our little band, so we took a left down a garbage and tear gas canister strewn path and ended up in a small field where soldiers were waiting to meet us. Having been to one other protest before, I expected that the two groups would just stand and look at each other, the protestors shouting slogans and the soldiers watching out for any rock-throwers.
That is not what happened. Within two minutes of arriving, and with no provocation on the part of the Palestinians (for what my eyewitness testimony is worth anyway), the soldiers came towards us and began setting off tear gas canisters. Already at the back of the group, I edged away to find more soldiers standing behind us, cutting off our exit. I kept moving backward and to the side as that was the only open way out. I could see the soldiers run after people, oddly singling out this person or that, and completely ignoring others. They seemed to target the teenage boys, maybe those wearing keffiyehs, maybe those shouting the loudest, maybe those that they recognized from other demonstrations. I spotted a young woman in a hijab with a video camera far down t
he hill, calmly taping all that was going on. One of the young men we’d arrived with was thrown to the ground. Photographs I saw later, such as the one here,
show him in the dirt, a soldier kneeling on him, the end of a huge gun resting directly on his temple. A rubber bullet at that range would penetrate a skull neatly.
Myself, a few of the others I’d come with, and other demonstrators retreated inside the nearest house, where the family welcomed us warmly. Once inside we peered from the windows to see others still standing outside. The soldiers moved off, into the city center, and began to patrol the town. We were told we could not leave the house until they left the village, or else we might be arrested. The Israeli activists with us faced a night in jail and a fine, the Palestinians faced prison time, I faced potential deportation.
We sat nervously in the home, listening to tear gas going off in other parts, watching from the windows as our friends made an attempt at reaching the spring, sipping coffee and playing with the adorable children. After several hours we were told the soldiers had left the village. Israeli and foreign journalists had been arrested, as had two from our group – one of whom was the hunger striker. We made our way out of Nabi Saleh on a servees and back home, 10 hours or so since we’d left.
Protestors were arrested, tear gassed and shot with rubber bullets. At no point did the protestors use violence, nor did they even approach Israeli residential areas or Israeli civilians. Journalists were arrested from the town center. Footage from earlier protests show the IDF approaching a young man who is ostensibly not doing much other than leaning against a pole. The mere act of being in the town was grounds for arrest and pro
secution. Those who bemoan the lack of a nonviolent Palestinian movement should perhaps look at what happens to those who try.
No comments:
Post a Comment