Last week ended the way it started, with nonviolent Palestinian demonstrations against the Wall being met with severe violence from the Israeli army. An Israeli friend of mine recently pointed out that we should not call the demonstrations “nonviolent” because they’re extremely violent – it’s just that the violence comes not from the demonstrators but from the fourth largest military in the world, trying to suppress peaceful protest.
Friday’s demonstration in Marda was even worse than the others. We were barely a few meters from the houses, starting to walk up the mountain through the olive groves, when tear gas canisters started flying. The army, as usual, was shooting gas from several directions. We counted about 50 canisters in the first 4 minutes, and it continued at this rate for at least 10 minutes more. Then, before we could collect our thoughts and make any sort of plan, the army entered the village. Now tear gas and sound bombs were coming at us from even more directions – every direction, it seemed. People scattered throughout the village, with some journalists, a few boys, and a couple internationals and Israelis near the center of the village. I was on a roof with several people, trying to see what was happening. We started to hear rubber bullets, and then, suddenly, live ammunition. We called everyone we could think to call, including a number I had for the US Embassy. I got someone on the phone, told him we were in the village (even said “there are 4 or 5 American citizens here and the army is shooting bullets into the village”). He was unresponsive as I talked, and finally said, “Um, okay. Thank you for making me privy to this information. I advise you to stay away from crowds.” Incredulously, I asked him if he was going to report this to anyone. “I report to many people,” he responded. “Will you call the army?” I asked. “I think I know what they would say,” he replied. “People are scared for their lives,” I reiterated. “Thank you for informing me,” he said again, and that was it. At that moment I found myself wishing a tear gas canister would enter his office. As it was, one entered Marda's sewing factory, sending 4 women to the hospital.
We heard more bullets fired, this time several rounds at a time, so I called Arik Ascherman from Rabbis for Human Rights. He called back a few minutes later and said, “The army says they’re not in the village, and are only shooting tear gas from outside.” Later they admitted to him that they were inside Marda, but shot only one rubber bullet and no live ammunition. They claimed that the bullets had come from a Palestinian with a Kalachnikov rifle. So now we had a new job – go around and collect as many bullet casings as we could, to prove that they were from M-16s (the army’s weapons). It wasn’t difficult, as the children of the villages have a habit of collecting all the weapons used against them, and trying to impress visitors with them. We have since given the casings to Arik, who has delivered them to the army, who apparently is investigating the situation... I don’t have much confidence that any follow-up will happen, although maybe this will make soldiers think twice next time before firing live ammunition at unarmed farmers and kids.
I should mention that the four bulldozers that had been working before we started up the hill that day stopped as soon as the army started firing gas at us, apparently retiring for an early weekend. So the demonstration was not entirely in vain.
Shortly after returning to Hares, we got a call that 6 jeeps were inside Hares, so we went to the entrance of the village to check it out. Sure enough, dozens of soldiers were hanging out next to jeeps. I asked an open question into the crowd: “What are you doing here?” One soldier stepped out of a jeep and said, “That doesn’t concern you, Hannah, since we're going to put you on a plane to the U.S. in two days.” There are so few internationals around these days that many soldiers and border policemen/women know me, especially after the intensity of last week. But this was someone I didn’t recognize. I made a mental note to try to pay more attention to soldiers’ faces and not only their guns. For my own protection, I should be able to recognize them.
Abu Rabia later told us that he had been leaving Marda earlier that day when he came across a detained international and many soldiers near the entrance. She had been grabbed while filming the army’s (mis)behavior in the center of the village. Abu Rabia asked, “Why are you holding that woman and when are you going to let her go?” One soldier replied, “Her name is Hannah and she’s been around too much. We’re going to deport her.” They later let her go (would they have let me go?), but Abu Rabia told me I should stay in the house for the next few days and write reports or something like that. I had to smile – he was trying to make me feel useful even while forbidding me from going to demonstrations. I can’t say I was disappointed. In fact, I was quite relieved. The last thing I want to do is go out every day and try to dodge bullets and handcuffs.
As it turned out, there weren’t any demos in the next few days, partially because Marda villagers probably had the same desire I did, and partially because the bulldozers weren’t working. Shabbat was followed by Shavuot, and no Wall work happened for three days. It’s funny how Jewish holidays affect Palestinian life. On this occasion it was positive. The first time I came to Palestine, which spanned the time of Rosh Hashana, Yom Kippur, Sukkot, and Simchat Torah, the West Bank was under closure for a full 3 weeks, meaning Palestinians weren’t allowed on the roads at all. Settlers also tend to attack villagers more often during holidays, possibly because they’re not working and have nothing else to do. At the same time as Marda was breathing a sigh of relief at not seeing bulldozers, my friend Munira was trying to calm her kids who had been woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of stones hitting their house. Munira, from Mas’ha, is enclosed on all 4 sides by walls and fences (the Annexation Wall, a settlement fence, and army gates). On Monday night, to celebrate the end of Shavuot, settlers from the nearby settlement of Elkana came to throw stones over the settlement fence at her house. I asked if it was a group of kids. “At one in the morning?!” she said. “No, they were adults.”
Meanwhile, people are talking about “relative calm” in this part of the world, about peace, about disengagement from Gaza, not realizing that the intention of the disengagement is not to be a beginning, but to be an end. Not remembering that Gaza is just a tiny tiny piece of Palestine. I was talking with Um Rabia the other day about the new Wall path, which encroaches even more on many of the villages in our region (including Hares, where we live). They do that on purpose, Um Rabia, said. They tell us the Wall is going through our house so they can later move it slightly and we will say, “thank you, that’s great, we have won.” And meanwhile, Israel is getting exactly what they wanted in the first place. It’s like people who say the occupation is easy now, I said. They only have to go through 2 checkpoints a day instead of 5, and wait for only a half hour and not several hours, so they think, “Great, the occupation is over.” And meanwhile the system is being more and more solidified. Um Rabia gave another example. Apparently sisters of prisoners have recently been given permission to visit, whereas it used to only be parents and spouses. She knows cases of sisters who have been denied permits and they fight and fight for the permit. But what are we really fighting for? Um Rabia asked. Do we want permits to visit our brothers and sons or do we want them out of prison?
People don’t think about the bigger issues, Um Rabia told me. They don’t think politically, and if they do they’re arrested or killed. It’s true, I thought, there is such risk here for Palestinians who even think differently than the Israeli authorities would like. How many Palestinians are sitting in Israeli prisons for supposedly thinking about doing something? That kind of risk does not exist for me. I can analyze the situation, understand it, talk about the real issues (which Um Rabia says are the Wall, Jerusalem, the refugees, and the prisoners, among a few others). I can do all this with minimal risk. And I encourage you to do the same. Don’t be appeased by the media, don’t believe that there is “peace” here, don’t be satisfied with an occupation that has slightly fewer checkpoints than it did a couple years ago. And don’t stop thinking. Not until there is justice.
