Palestine: The day of the stolen donkey

This morning I and some other volunteers were invited to join a family harvesting almonds on their land in the village of Kafr Qalil. We went and spent a tranquil two hours enjoying the beautiful scenery, drinking tea, eating bread and zataar and clambering in the almond trees, shaking the nuts to the ground.  

But our time on the land was shadowed by threats – the family are unfortunate enough to have had the settlement of Bracha illegally built overlooking their land, looming on the hill overhead. Even more unfortunate is the fact that the settlers of Bracha are infamous for their extremism and violence – even named by the UN as some of the most violent colonists in the West Bank. As well as this, the road next to their trees is a settler-only road, out of bounds for Palestinians; requiring them to bring two donkeys with them to carry their supplies and to carry the almonds back over the difficult route back to the village. This in turn means that there are regular Israeli military patrols along this road and around the area.

So that explains the presence of soldiers next to the farmers as soon as we arrived on the land – at first harassing the family, asking what they were doing there, why they had come, how long they would stay; all of this on private Palestinian land, where they should have no right to dictate Palestinian actions. But this land, because it is near the settlement and the settler road, has been named Area C, giving the Israeli authorities full military and civil control. So despite us being on Palestinian Land in Palestine, there is Israeli rule of law. The family had been required to apply for permission from the Israeli authorities to pick on their land on this day.

Considering all of this, after our first two reasonably tranquil hours (except for the army hanging about nearby), when the settlers arrived it really wasn’t a surprise. Three of them, brazen in their bright white outfits, came marching down the hill towards us. We continued harvesting the almonds, attempting nonchalance through the anxiety and trying to look natural on the land, as if they wouldn’t notice us if we just ignored them. But of course the Palestinians were the reason they approached and the reason they were now shouting at us “Get off our land!”

Running towards us, one of them violently shoved the father of family, shouting at him. One soldier approached and actually tried to stop the settler, who shouted at him as well – I wasn’t quick enough with my camera to film the first attack…my hands shook as I stood next to the farmer, who remained steadfast facing the invader as he screamed at us. But my fear was nothing compared to that of the young daughter of the family, a shy girl who had been helping the family collecting almonds and also playing around us in the beautiful hills. She was crying and trying to hide behind her mother by this time, peering out at her father who was clearly in danger of imminent violent assault from several settlers. Another tried to run towards us from the hill above.

At this point we were retreating, quickly…looking back though, the father of the family realised that in our escape, we had left behind the bag containing all of almonds that we had gathered over the morning. He asked us to go back for them, or our morning would have been wasted and the settlers would have taken the almonds. The likelihood of us, as non-Palestinians, being attacked by the settler was considerably lower, so back we went to get the bag. The soldiers were, for once, holding back the settlers, but when we asked politely for the fruits of our labour “I’m going to get the bag, then I’m leaving”, the settler continued to tell us “you are taking nothing, you can’t be here, it’s not their property”. Although the soldiers were also telling us to leave, one listened to our request to pass us the almonds and we immediately backed up, following the family who were hovering a few metres behind. 

We walked back up to the settler only road and tried to pass together onto the land on the other side, but when we were there we noticed another settler – clearly visible in white on the hill above – untying the family’s donkeys and trying to lead them away. The family called to the soldiers asking them to stop the theft, but instead they came over and ordered the family to go up the hill, whilst we had to walk along the road. Although they couldn’t give any reason for this decision, the soldiers threatened us with arrest if we didn’t comply. So the group split and the other volunteer and I walked anxiously along the road, watching the family walking above us – they had managed to get one of the donkeys back, but the other one was evidently missing.

Then we saw the settlers again – the group of them had gathered and were running after the family. I called the father of the family and we spoke anxiously on the phone “khbeer moshqilla”, a big problem , he said, “please come back to stay with us”. We ran up towards them, trying to avoid being seen by the soldiers – who were just looking on, watching as the settlers gained ground on the family. Back together, we were a mixed group of four adults, three children and a single donkey, making it very difficult to outrun the settlers, three adult males in their prime.

We kept going, stumbling over rocks and tree roots – Palestinian agricultural land that is badly maintained because of the evident dangers of working there. Eventually, we turned and saw that they were no longer pursuing us. Collapsing together on the ground to drink water and relax for a moment, we realised the true catastrophe of the loss of a donkey for a Palestinian family; a necessity for farming and a huge expense, not easy for a family trying to eke a living from occupied land.

Once again, I was terrified when the family requested that we go back to ask the soldiers if they could get the animal back, especially if it had been taken into the settlement, but we agreed that as internationals, once again we were less vulnerable than the family to re-approach the area. Going back onto the road was scary, especially as when we reached it we saw the same group of settlers talking to the soldiers. Although they all clearly saw us, it was the settlers who approached us, not the police or military – it’s evident which group is the actual law in the West Bank.

We walked to the left side of the road, trying to avoid the settlers who were on the right-hand side; they mirrored our actions and walked towards us. Veering to the other side, the followed us again; a strange game of “chicken”, in which we were very unwilling participants. As they reached us, we tried to ignore them and walk to the soldiers as the family had requested, but creating a line the settlers blocked the road “you can’t pass from here”. Trying to persuade them that all we wanted was to find the donkey was not successful and they threatened us with violence if we didn’t leave immediately. Walking back, we were shadowed by the settlers until we were back on the main road. Feeling defeated, we left.

Rule of law means nothing in the West Bank for Palestinians – the true rulers, lawmakers and enforcement are the settlers, with backup by the military, making it more like the Wild West than the West Bank. But as more and more Israelis colonise the West Bank, the number of soldiers who are also settlers increases and the cooperation between the groups to oppress the Palestinian owners of the land also increases.

The family’s donkey is still missing; they think it has been taken into the settlement. But they will return to harvest their crops on their own land, once again for almonds in the next weeks and then later for olives in October. They refuse to be intimidated into leaving their land and livelihood, and we will continue to stand with them as long as they want an international presence. The olive harvest is a key time of year for Palestinians and therefore also for the International Solidarity Movement. If you also want to stand in solidarity and defiance with the people of Palestine, read more about the olive harvest campaign here.

Palestine: Spit, singing soldiers and skunk

This Thursday was the last day of school for the kids of Hebron – meaning an end to homework, to lessons, to lunchtimes with friends…oh and to the daily ordeal of harassment by soldiers outside the school. Each day it goes something like this: the kids walk to school, many of them through the checkpoint at the end of the road, where there are soldiers permanently stationed. Hundreds of boys and girls arrive to school in the area, aged six to seventeen.

Soldiers outside the school 

Awaiting them some days, there are soldiers on the roofs, some days there are soldiers hiding down alleyways, some days the kids are stopped on their way, some days their bags are checked, some days there are jeeps full of soldiers outside the checkpoint, some days there are jeeps full of soldiers outside the school. Some days they shoot teagas at the kids, some days it’s just sound grenades.

Some days there are no soldiers (except those permanently stationed at the checkpoint, natch) – however, it is these days that are the rarity. Thursday saw merely four jeeps full of soldiers and three soldiers hiding down one alleyway - doing stretches and kneeling sniper-style - as children walked past them. After the children all go into the schools and the soldiers leave, we leave as well. On Thursday on our way home, a car full of settlers sped past, slowing down just enough for one of them to spit directly in my face. "Thank fuck for wetwipes" is all I will say in detail on the act, as it still makes me shudder.

Why did they spit at me? I can only assume that the settlers recognised us, as surely they wouldn’t dare spit at one of the “chosen people”. Human rights observers on the other hand are anti-semitic scum, making us fair-game. Plus, we’re probably neighbours - there’s an illegal settlement just down the road from us.

Which in turn explains the presence of a checkpoint just outside our window, where soldiers are stationed 24 hours a day…there’s not a lot to do out there except harass Palestinians as they go past, so they end up singing sometimes - especially when they’re stoned, which they are regularly (SUCH a professional army.)

A couple of days ago it was the birthday of one of my colleagues so we sang ‘happy birthday’ in our living room with the windows open (it’s 35degrees here AAAH), naturally prompting the soldiers to sing ‘happy birthday’ at the top of their voices for the rest of the night. Any reaction from us or our Palestinian neighbours just urges them to sing louder. So it becomes yet another disrespectful act by the Israeli military towards the Palestinians of the neighbourhood that has to be tolerated in order not to make the situation worse. The power dynamics here make me so angry.

When the soldiers aren’t singing outside our windows, one of their other favourite activities is invading our neighbour’s roof – when this happens, our neighbours call us up and we sit with them until the soldiers have gone away, as the roof is like their living room in the summer and they have young children (one of whom was recently arrested). This time, I gave one of the boys my camera and he spent a productive half hour taking pictures and documenting the soldiers (human rights defender in the making.) It was good to see him with a sense of empowerment in front of the soldiers, getting right up in their faces and generally making them pretty uncomfortable to be invading his home. 

Hebron boy's portraits of soldiers invading his home

So, onwards and onto another group of soldiers – those “protecting” the illegal settlement of Halamish near the village of Nabi Saleh. On Friday’s Nabi Saleh demonstration, the people of the village set out to tend to their land in front of the illegal settlement of Halamish. They have a small olive grove there and many of the trees have been damaged by fires set by teargas canisters fired by the military at previous demonstrations. The villagers (armed with farming materials) walked towards the military (armed with guns of several varieties) and set to work, only to be immediately shot at with multiple rounds of tear gas.

Next the military rolled out the ‘skunk truck’, a rotatable water cannon, loaded onto a van, which fires foul smelling liquid at demonstrators. On the way to the demonstration a friend tried to explain to me exactly how insulting this is for Muslim people as cleanliness is such an important part of Islam. In the last months, a new demonstration was ended in the south of Hebron after the home of a newly married couple was filled with skunk water, destroying everything. It is also collective punishment, a war crime under the fourth Geneva convention, punishing masses of people for “crimes” that they have not committed. (Of course in the real world, peaceful protest is not a "crime", but under Israeli law in Palestine, it is.)

So, skunk water. It is grim - even stepping in the dregs of it on the ground, as I had done before, leaves a stench that follows you around on your shoes for hours. This time I didn’t just step in it. Trying to get to a Palestinian journalist from Nabi Saleh who was being harassed and grabbed by the soldiers, I ran forward…noting the skunk truck looming on the road but (falsely, haha) thinking that I could probs avoid it.

The spray turned in my direction and I was immediately drenched with skunk, while my more sensible comrades were just slightly misted. Another journalist who was next to me and also drenched had his camera ruined. The initial stink isn’t too terrible and I was quite enjoying the cooling effect it had, but oh man it gets worse.

Me and the skunk truck

I stuck my head under the tap to try to wash it out a bit, but this just had the effect of reacting with the teargas on my face and creating a delightful burning sensation. And then the smell just does NOT leave. I washed my hair 6 times that day, with everything I could get my hands on (washing up liquid, laundry detergent, a variety of shampoo).

The smell of rotting meat/sewage isn't my absolute favourite, and I must say, having it lingering around is not my preferred option, even (or maybe especially) when it’s disguised with the smell of flowery shampoo. I can still smell it right now, four days later.

Once more, I’m writing about the small woes that happen to me, but it’s nothing compared to a Palestinian life. People here are sprayed with skunk every week, as are their villages, homes and gardens. They are spat at, spat on and infinitely worse by settlers. They have piss and shit thrown at them by settlers who live illegally above their market.

They live with this shit every day of their lives, and the patience and steadfastness continues to amaze me. One more night of smelling the remaining stench in my hair accompanied by the discordant singing of the soldier at the checkpoint below and I would (will) be ready to crack.

But this is not my home, nor my reality. The smell will wear off and I will eventually leave. But I will leave behind my solidarity, my love and my incredible respect to the Palestinian people and their continued resistance.

Palestine: Nakba – Catastrophe versus Independence

The 15^th May was Nakba Day in Palestine, a commemoration that has several different names. By the Palestinian people it is known as the ‘catastrophe’. By Israel, on the other hand, it is known as Independence Day.

So. Time for a history lesson. Waaaaay back in 1948, while the British were occupying Palestine (and once again my sincerest apologies for my country's complicity in this), it was decided that 'Palestine' should be declared 'Israel' – ignoring the slight problem of the people who actually lived there. So, to solve that problem, the Palestinian people were driven from their homes, their villages and their country (catastrophic!), in order to make place for this new country - Israel (independent!).

Most of these people thought that they were leaving for a couple of weeks. They didn't understand that this was for real - they thought that their homes and lives would be protected by their neighbouring countries, who would intervene to stop the invasion. That didn't work.

It is now 65 years later and the Palestinian people have not returned to their homes. 85% of the Palestinian population became refugees in 1948 – fleeing to the West Bank, to Gaza and to neighbouring countries like Jordan, Syria and Lebanon. Few remained. The catastrophe became known as such. 

People kept the key to their homes when they left, anticipating their swift return – these keys are now treasured possessions – holding memories and a heavy symbolism of the right of return.

So, Nakba Day commemorates the catastrophe and unites the Palestinian people, wherever they are. The right of the refugees to return is absolutely key to there being peace in Palestine. Until now, the they remain displaced or in the diaspora. They are not welcomed by Israel, who terribly conveniently, control all of the borders of Palestine.

Ooh, and there's another thing. If you happen to be Jewish, rather than Palestinian, you are immediately welcome in Israel – whether you are from the USA, Russia the UK or anywhere else, if you are Jewish, you can live here. There is a program for young Jewish people called Birthright tours – a trip to Israel paid for by the Israeli government, including flights, accommodation, food and transport – it’s aimed at strengthening links between Israel and the outside Jewish communities and at encouraging people to live in Israel. This open, warm invitation to Jewish people is in harsh juxtaposition to the complete lack of rights for Palestinian refugees.

Besides their continued treatment of the Palestinian people, the state of Israel also discriminates against many other groups – Tel Aviv is infamous for racism and discrimination against refugees, asylum seekers and immigrants (see pictures by activestills of anti-refugee demonstrations here – scroll through to see more). On a personal level, having recently been to the Israeli Ministry of Interior to ask them to extend my tourist visa, I was asked immediately if I was Jewish. When I said no I was told - before the woman had even looked at my passport – that tourists don't get visa extensions, unless they have a real good reason, like being Jewish. 

In summary, the Israeli government honour the right of people who have never stepped foot in the country before, to come and live in Israel, whilst completely denying the rights of the Palestinians that they expelled.

Ethnic cleansing, pure and simple. But the Palestinian people will take their rights back, whether Israel is willing to give them or not. The Catastrophe one day will transform into Independence.

Palestine: The Kids Aren't Alright - Part II

The past months I’ve spent in Palestine have been dominated by one issue – the arrest of children. Nearly every day I’ve spent in Hebron I’ve seen harassment of children, if not their detention or arrest by the Israeli military.

13 year old being arrested

I’m writing this now, knowing that my ISM comrades are waiting outside a school where a month ago 27 children were arrested, grabbed at random on their way to school. This morning some kids threw stones at the checkpoint; two army jeeps have been parked outside since that, taking photos of the children, looking like they’re preparing to make more arrests. (Ultimately they didn’t arrest anyone – they hassled several children, taking pictures and seemingly checking their hands for traces of stone dirt…?)

I don’t feel the need to defend the children’s actions as they throw stones at the checkpoint. I support the Palestinian right to resist a military occupation in whatever form they decide. But for anyone thinking that kids who threw stones at checkpoints should be arrested, you really need more context. These kids and their parents are harassed by the soldiers every day. They or their friends or their brothers or parents are arrested, detained, blindfolded, beaten.

The occupation is in their faces every minute of every day, their skyline dominated by watchtowers, their streets by checkpoints, the roofs of their homes with cameras, swivelling to watch them all the time. Soldiers and settlers swarm like ants through Hebron. So I agree with Israeli journalist Amira Hass who recently said “throwing stones is the birthright and duty of anyone subject to foreign rule. Throwing stones is an action as well as a metaphor of resistance.”

Add to this legitimate resistance the fact that the Israeli military don’t give a shit who they actually arrest. As long as someone’s in the jeep at the end of the day they’ll fabricate the charges as much as they like – something I know first hand, having been accused of throwing stones, throwing burning tyres and assaulting a soldier (hint, I didn’t do those things, rather I was beaten, gassed and shot at by the soldiers. Pretty sure they didn’t get punished for any of that.)

This is not punishment for a crime, this is to scare small children into being traumatised. I spoke recently with someone from Defence for Children International, who said that the soldiers are now really focused on majorly fucking up the children psychologically, in an attempt to cripple the next generation of resistance. (Okay, so he didn’t say “majorly fucking up” but that’s what he meant.)

So children are arrested regularly. I’ve just compiled the statistics from ISM, EAPPI and CPT (the three international human rights groups in Hebron) of child arrests – there were 66 arrests and detentions of children, aged 7 to 16, between 15^th February and 1^st May. And this is just those that we witnessed, sometimes coming across them at random – who knows how many more there have been.

12 year old being protected by his headteacher as soldiers tried to arrest him

On a related note, my friend Gustav is currently in Givon immigration detention, waiting to be deported – his crime? Well, according to the Israeli military and media he assaulted a soldier and tried to grab his gun. According to EVERYONE else, all he did was object to the arrest of two children, aged 11 and 12 (very restrainedly in my opinion…) Surely what anyone of conscience would do when they saw children being grabbed and manhandled by heavily armed soldiers?

                                         

So what really happened? Settler kids threw sticks at the Palestinian kids who were walking home from school. When the Palestinian kids shouted back, the settlers ran for the army – natch, they immediately came running to the defence of the settlers, grabbing the kids and chucking them against a wall. A crowd gathered, protesting against the arrest of the kids. The headteacher of the school was amazing – she managed to get one of the kids out of the army jeep, although he then got arrested again afterwards. Ultimately Gustav and the two kids were taken away.  

The video tells the story much better than I can. 

After they were arrested, Gustav was taken to a military base with the two kids. Although he was blindfolded, he knew the kids were nearby because he could hear them crying, screaming, begging to be let go.

Gustav’s now in prison and is planning to resist deportation - in protest that he has not been given any chance to defend himself (he wasn’t taken to court, he was taken directly for deportation, despite it being entirely evident that he did not commit any of the crimes he has been accused of) and in protest against the child arrests.

The kids were released later that day. They are our next-door neighbours…yesterday I watched them from the window – they were playing and laughing. I wonder if they are so calm at night-time when they’re alone, I wonder if they will ever be the same. I never thought about being arrested when I was 10, 11, 12. In fact, I can’t remember really thinking about anything particularly important at all.

During one of the last child arrest that I witnessed, we were attacked by settlers when we tried to intervene. The boy was 13 and was blindfolded and moved between several small checkpoint boxes. The settlers were concerned only that we, international activists, were present on “their” street – they didn’t spare a thought for the children.

We have a new brigade of soldiers in Hebron and I can only hope that they will not love arresting children as much as the last lot. I could write much more about this, but I find myself unable to think about it any more – it’s too much. And this is from someone who doesn’t even LIKE children particularly.

Palestine: Same game, different rules. 

So. In the last few days in Hebron, there have been a few minor inconsistencies in the Israeli authorities reaction to events and treatment of perpetrators of alleged crimes. And by minor I actually mean fucking massive.


I have drawn a beautiful flowchart to demonstrate the apparent decision making process in one particular scenario.

The number of child arrests in Hebron has massively increased over the last week or so. First I blogged about two children who were arrested at a demonstration...that wasn't enough for the Israeli army in Hebron. A few days later, another kid was arrested and held inside an even smaller checkpoint box, along with one soldier, with the door locked.

A day later, the soldiers laid traps around a school, while children were on their way in to school. The children were aged 7-15. Thirty of them were arrested, all on charges of throwing stones. (yeah, I'm sure they definitely recognised all thirty specific children. Hah.) See a B'tselem video of the kids being arrested below. They were beaten. As of last night, 10 are still in the police station.

On the very same day, settlers were accused of throwing rubbish onto Palestinian property (the rubbish in question was a whole load of manure-covered hay from their farm, not just a snotty tissue or a coke can or sommat.) When the Palestinians arrived to see this rubbish and complained, they had stones thrown at them by settler children, so they called the Israeli authorities, who have civil and military control of this part of Hebron. The soldiers arrived and immediately confiscated all of the ID cards of the Palestinians present for several hours, hassling and intimidating them whilst laughing and joking with the settlers. Nothing was done about the rubbish, nor the allegations of stone throwing.

Now I'm certainly not saying that I want the settler children arrested in the same brutal way that the Palestinian children were. I don't think anyone should be treated that way. But the Palestinians have no recourse to justice - the Israeli army will never be on their side, so they have nowhere to turn.

Next example of totally fair decisions: Shuhada Street has been blocked to Palestinians since the year 2000, when it was decided that for the "protection" of the 500 settlers living in illegal settlements in the centre of Hebron, the whole of the main Palestinian market street should be shut down. Shops were closed by military order, people were driven out of their homes.

On Wednesday, there was a demonstration on Shuhada Street. Activists wearing Obama (he's visiting currently) and Martin Luther King masks walked down the road, calling for civil rights and an end to apartheid. They were chanting "WE HAVE A DREAM" when settlers attacked the demonstration and the army arrived.

• Army response to Palestinians walking down the street? Attacks, one broken nose, punching, kicking, dragging, arrests. 

• Army response to Settlers attacking Palestinians? Attacks, one broken nose, punching, kicking, dragging, arrests...of Palestinians, naturally. Settlers are free to do whatever they like.

This post was inspired by Adalah's new database of discriminatory laws. They've compiled more than 50 laws which discriminate between Israelis and Palestinians, so really this is just a tiny glimpse of the bigger picture.

The playing field needs to be levelled, so that all the schoolchildren can get to play on it together, rather than half of them being arrested. 

Palestine: Terrorists? Or terrified?

Rabbit attack!

Today I watched a group of kids being chased by a giant rabbit…and then them chasing the rabbit in return. (Fiiine, shatter the illusion, it was a guy in a rabbit suit, next you’ll be telling me Father Christmas doesn’t exist either.) In the sunshine, there were drums, singing and laughter. A celebration of fun and childhood.

It felt a million miles from what I had seen the day before…people being chased by soldiers, stones being thrown at the army. Instead of drums, there were percussion grenades, rubber bullets and tear gas. Instead of singing and laughter, there were yells and screams.
Another demonstration by Palestinians in Hebron stemming from outrage at the killing of a man by Israeli soldiers in a nearby refugee camp the week before.

We were monitoring the situation, recording the soldiers consistently using excessive force, breaking into houses and invading Palestinian areas, in which they are supposed to have no jurisdiction under international law. The soldiers were repeatedly running after protesters, attempting to make arrests.



Soldiers taking a break leaning on blocks with "Open Shuhada Street" and "Welcome to Apartheid Street" slogans

Mid afternoon, from a side street I saw soldiers emerging - victorious! They had finally caught some of the ‘terrorists’ who were demonstrating in such an unruly way. Shocked, I saw that the people they were dragging were kids. Small kids.  

I was frozen momentarily... even though I KNOW that children are detained and interrogated regularly by the Israeli military, I hadn’t anticipated what it would actually look like. The kids were crying. They were scared.

It felt like a personification of the occupation – small child versus heavily armed soldiers.

They took the two kids, along with a Palestinian man who was also arrested, towards the portacabin which comprises the checkpoint between the Palestinian and Israeli controlled areas in Hebron. It’s a metal box only a few metres long, with a metal detector over each door. The three Palestinians were dragged inside by the soldiers and the door was shut behind them.

Another activist and I ran the long way around – not allowed to go through the checkpoint, due to its apparent secondary use as a detention centre. Gasping, on our arrival on the other side, we saw that the checkpoint box was completely closed. The children were still inside, with who knows how many soldiers.



You can see man with blindfold inside the checkpoint

The commander refused to let us see the children. They even went so far as denying that anyone was inside (unless they keep a secret portal to another world in the checkpoint, I suspect that they were indeed inside)…but when they opened the door a crack I saw someone blindfolded inside, surrounded by soldiers.

A half hour of tense waiting ensured, on-edge, my mind running over all the reports I have read about child detention - beatings, torture and mistreatment. Eventually, a jeep pulled up. The checkpoint door was opened and the arrested Palestinian man was brought out, his hands ziptied and his eyes blindfolded.

Shortly afterwards, one of the boys was pulled out, his hands also ziptied. He looked terrified and was crying, begging the soldiers to let him go. One of the soldiers was saying “Shou?” ("What?”) over and over to the kid, mocking his crying. Looking into the faces of the soldiers, I couldn’t believe what they were doing. They avoided my eyes and my questions. The second child was also bundled into the jeep - see video below of the arrests.
 

I could do nothing…surrounded by soldiers, there was nowhere to run, nothing to do to help them. The jeep drove away, bearing its load of terrified children. I had to take myself away from the situation and do some very deep breathing and slow counting before I reacted in a decidedly NOT non-violent way to the soldiers.

Following up the case with the International Committee of the Red Cross, they said that the children should be freed soon. But we still haven’t been able to get confirmation.

I know who I feel is 'terrorist' and who 'terrified' in this situation.

 

Oh, AND the fuckers shot me in the hip with a plastic coated steel bullet. UGH.

Palestine: Offering the olive branch...met with teargas...

Shamelessly taking credit for planting olive trees.

Farming is not necessarily what could be called my strong point (as claimed by Al Jazeera at 2.10 - bastards). Lucky then that when we were planting trees in Asira this week, there were only a couple of spades, leaving me to do important work such as observing, coordinating and supervising tree planting (aka sitting). Oh and soldier/settler watch, natch.

We were planting trees for Rachel Corrie, an ISMer who was killed in Gaza by the Israeli army ten years ago on Saturday, and to replace trees destroyed in previous years by the Israeli army or settlers - this happens every year and is devastating to Palestinian economy and culture, both of which are strongly based around the olive tree.

Commander ordering us to yallah.

Our presence on Palestinian owned land was, as usual, considered pesky by the army - they want that hillside all to themselves, having recently built a military tower on it (annexing more Palestinian land, of course). The commander, who arrived looking flash/ridiculous in wraparound sunglasses took it upon himself to tell us off and to get off his goddamn lawn.

He pointed out that of course, if the landowners applied through the appropriate channels, they would of course be granted permission, and of course, would be allowed to access their land without hindrance from the army.

Tell that to the shepherd who was beaten by soldiers and ordered off the exact same land the week before. He had permission to be there. The people of Asira know that that the outcome is the same whether they apply for permission or not. However, threatened with arrest or violence from the army, we decided to move down the hill and plant in an area slightly further down the hill. This – arbitrarily it seems – was deemed acceptable to the soldiers.

However, the settlers from nearby Yizhar did not seem satisfied with the compromise. So they decided to come and tell us off slightly more strictly - running down the hill, masked, they pelted stones at us by hand and with slingshots. Some of the Palestinians in our group ran to fend them off, trying to throw stones UP the hill at the attackers. I suspect none of those reached their targets.

Settlers from Yizhar arrive on the scene

It was then that the settler’s mates, the soldiers, then made a re-entry onto the scene, firing teargas and rubber bullets.

Of course, they targeted the real threat – olive tree planting farmers (and tree planting supervisors, such as myself). Luckily, this time no one was hurt, nor arrested and eventually the settlers and soldiers left, giving us a chance to admire the beauty of the Palestinian spring! Man, we sure look like a threat, I'd attack us too. Defs.