I fear that my favourite hostel residents are reaching a breaking point. Tisir is going crazy under house arrest. I wonder if he will make it. I have a dreadful feeling that he will soon be destroyed, either from within or without. He has so much anger in him right now, and no outlet. To go to meet his advocate, he must employ me to look for undercover police.
Essam is now without work, too. He worked only a day and a few hours until it all blew up. Working in the Jewish quarter, the Arab is nothing. One day a Jewish man came and asked for two kilos of apples, but demanded them at a lower price than was set by the manager. When Essam said he couldn't make that decision, the man called him names, insulted his mother, and told his to obey. Essam lost it - broke his nose (literally or figuratively, I'm not sure), and walked away.
Of course, the soldiers nabbed him. The punishment should have been at least six months in prison, but Essam smiled and thanked them. There, he would eat, drink, and sleep - all paid for by the state that makes it difficult for a Palestinian to make a living.
They were angry, and instead told him that he couldn't work for one month. This is a problem - Ramadan ends in a week. He needs money to buy gifts for his family. But there is no work.
In Bethlehem, he has a home, but no work is to be found. In Al-Quds, he must either work and submit to daily degradement and humiliation, bowing his head and smiling while people call his mother a dog, or not work at all. Even when there is work, the amount he can make is no more than he must spend each day to live - for a roof and meals.
So what is a Palestinian to do? How can anyone cope?
Essam and Tisir both, trapped in different sorts of prisons. Each one boiling, trying to get through each day, struggling to breathe, to live, with threats in every alley and only walls at the end of each road. No, they are not as bad off as those in Gaza, but their suffering is part of the same oppression - total enslavement to the arbitrary rulings of the racist Israeli government.
Sorrow runs deep here. No one can sit still. It is little wonder.
And I fear for them, especially for Tisir. Because one day, the dead ends will be too much for them to take.
19 November 2003
An early morning in Asira, and a busy night. Last night the Jeysh were here - not too bad, but it is seven days into curfew (mannea ta jawal) now. They were tooling around town telling people to head to their houses last night, but many people stayed up and about, drinking tea and coffee, going to mosque. We escorted as many people as possible, engaging the soldiers at times and ignoring them at others. It was great to be able to help the residents of Asira resist.
Today they were harsher - a clash with the shebab, shots fired, but no one hurt. The teachers at the madrasa for banaat (girls' school) wanted to keep the school open, and could have had the fathers not demanded entry to fetch their children. They could have kept it open, I'm sure - the door was shut and the teachers brilliantly defiant, and organised to boot. However, what are you to do when the soldiers are saying they'll open fire on your kids in five minutes?
After that, some of the men of the town surrounded one of the jeeps and refused to leave the street. The soldiers got out on foot, pointing their guns about, even at people in their houses. They were really irked at my photography.
I spoke for a while with Kan'an today. Though Asira as a whole has more money than many places in Occupied Palestine, there are people who are so poor they go to the stores asking for the heads and feet of chickens for their dogs and then cook them up for their children instead. Now that the stores are closed and there is no work, god only knows what will happen.
Food is running out here. No one can buy bread or vegetables. No one can get medicine at the pharmacy, and getting to the hospital is difficult or impossible.
I talked with a soldier last night, and asked him why he was doing this. He said he didn't know why, it was orders. 'Don’t you think it's important to know why you are doing something before you follow orders?' I asked. I hope he thinks about it in his sleep.
Asira is beautiful. The people are lovely, kind, and warm. It is the most friendly place I think I have ever been. People keep warning us when we go down to meet the soldiers, sometimes with rocks. They seem to understand why we are here, for the most part.
This morning a coalition of all the local political factions got together. From the mosque loudspeakers, hey told everyone to get out into the streets and resist. 'You are all Muslims!' It was music to my ears.
19 November 2003My Friend Bruce wrote:Sorry it took so long to get this posted...had some computer difficulties. Anyway, I am better. Had a rough headache for several days and couldn't think very clearly. So what happened at the demonstration. We went, we clapped, we chanted. The army had put a roll of razor wire in the road way, and we move it out. They waited there for us...we walked a little closer. I don't really remember when or how it all broke loose. The army started throwing sound grenades, things that numb your brain, make you deaf. If they explode near you, they burn you or knock you down. One Palestinian lady fell. She was barely able to limp away. The army ran at us and hit us with fists and clubs. We backed off and gathered again. The army responded again the same way. They fired tear gas into the middle of the crowd, sending some forward and some back, away from the gas. They tried to arrest a palestinian man who was doing nothing that free speech doesn't allow. We did not let them, we herded him from danger. They went after an american girl, tried to choke her and drag her, but we got her free. They came after her again and again, some times I was there to help free her, sometimes I wasn't. Most of the palestinians, not counting the press had fallen far back. We were separated from them by a nasty wall of tear gas. I tried to move through it, an onion to my mouth to counter the gases effects, but it was too much. I saw them chasing the american girl again. There were alot of soldiers this time. I wanted to fall back, run away. I was afraid. But all my comrades and friends were up there getting attacked by the soldiers. They made a pile of bodies, the girl at the bottom, so the soldiers couldn't take her. The soldiers hit the people, pulled an irishman by his hair, but the man stayed on the pile. I came over, hoping to help. I would move toward the pile and 3 soldiers would leave it and shoo me away. I would move back when they left me, so that they would have to do it again. Finally a gap appeared and I got on top of the pile, knowing that those who had been there a while had been abused a lot. A female soldiers pulled me back by my backpack. I didn't resist. I tried to talk to her, ask her why, ask her what they were doing, since by now we were in the middle of a cabbage field far from the gate we were protesting at. She prodded me with her baton, and spoke to others in Hebrew. Suddenly I was grabbed and hit on the head, or the other way around, I blacked out for a second. Next I knew soldiers were dragging me. They flipped me onto my back and grabbed each limb, carrying me. My shirt was up over my face. I finally got my face free so I could see what was going on. They carried me across a field, and then forced me into the back of a jeep. The jeep was filled with ammo to use on us, and a soldier sitting inside grabbed the back of my shirt and pulled me in. He yelled at me and then punched me in the back of the head. I asked him why, and he didn't answer. I was moved to another jeep and was questioned and photographed by the commanding officer, I think he was younger than me. He told me that he was a leftist. I didn't believe it. He told me only 20% of palestinians are against the wall. I shook my head. We waited, and the police came and took me. they cuffed me and told me I was arrested. no rights, no charges. It was a long ride to the police station, each person trying to get me to talk. I didn't. I was taken to the investigators office. He tried being friendly. I'm sure he wasn't the worst guy. He said, "we all do what we have to do" I would have talked to him about that if I had been free too. I was shackled at this point, and not yet used to moving in so much jewellery. I talked to a lawyer, and I was read my rights "you have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. Remaining silent can also be used against you with and only with other evidence." All the evidence they needed was a soldiers testimony, even though it would be contradicted by video evidence. The soldier signed an affidavit that I had thrown stones at soldiers, that I had knocked her down and others had to come and pick her up before arresting me, and that I had resisted arrest. I was glad the charges were so ridiculous, so that there was know doubt in my mind that I had done nothing illegal. the investigator lied to me, told me that it was illegal to even be at a demonstration. He said it didn't matter if I confessed or not, he would deport me. then I was escorted down stairs. My things were taken and catalogued, I was put in a cell, they dumped soapy water on the floor and made me mop it. I thought, well at least it's not quite as disgusting now. There was some trash on the thin mat that I was to sleep on. the bed was concrete. the bathroom was filthy, the toilet just a hole in the floor with dung on the place where one would have to stand to us it. the shower was a pipe out of the wall, and you would have to stand over the toilet to use it. I washed my hands and face, and at some of the greasy spaghetti noodles that were my dinner. Things got better though, the palestinians across the hall were breaking fast, and having coffee and tea, and the guard brought it across to me at their request. The guard was a nice fellow, for the most part. I slept as much as I could, since I was going to need energy and i'd been through a lot. they never turn down the lights, and it didnt get quiet until very late, then I was woken and fed pudding and nasty eggs, before I was shackled again and put in a holding room. then I was taken in a van, from police station to police station, switching 3 times I think. each time new shackles and cuffs. Finally we got to the airport. ****** and Joey showed up, and I was so happy to see them. we talked then I was introduced to my lawyers that they had acquired for me. the ministry of interior representative showed up and we had an interview. somewhere in the middle I was uncuffed but left shackled. we struck a deal, though it wasn't a good one. I didn't have to go back to the jail at Ariel, and that made me happy. the red tape took hours and me and the lawyer and the cop sat there waiting, me in shackles still. the cop began to talk to me through the lawyer, and in the end invited me to join him for sabbath. He couldn’t really do it before, but he said next time I came to Israel, not to wear shackles and he would invite me to his house. A lot of people here are great, they just don't realize what they are doing. I met an Israeli refusnik who came to post my bail. He's a great guy. After all that, I had to get a ticket to jordan. I may stay there a short bit, though I haven't talked to many about it. There are palestinian refugees there too, and I want to see what their plight is. And I still have time, and I still have determination. Now I am going to tell you what I think of conscripted soldiers. They are people who are too cowardly to face a tough life, to go to jail, to face ridicule, and would rather beat murder and maim men women and children. One can say it is hard to make the choice to refuse, but I think that is a shabby excuse. Everyone knows that it is wrong to kill, and to do it because it makes life tough not too, is pure cowardice, and the height of immorality. One cannot be made to kill, it is always a choice. No matter what the consequences. And those who join freely, may all their gods forgive them. Because in what ever roll they have, they still contribute to murder. As do all we who sponsor our government with taxes to carry out these despicable acts. May all our gods forgive us, because the children in their graves can not.
Six jeeps now, at least. Four border police, two army. The streets are strangely quiet except for the sounds of gunshots and stones being thrown onto roadblocks. I picked up shells from live rounds by Raya and Aya's house. They arrested four shebab today but let two go. They fired at children who were hiding in the trees.
And the soldiers are flirting with me again... bloody annoying.
I wonder how anyone can kill people after watching animals die, like the sheep that was slaughtered this morning. The things they did to Jenin... watching Jenin Jenin I can't help but think of Balata. So many kinds of slaughter.
Is a person still human after willingly killing another human? Does humanity decay or evaporate? Is that what enables them to continue the carnage?
I asked one soldier if this was fun for them. 'No, it is work,' he answered. I'm not sure if I believe him. For some, sure. For others, I think I see a certain glee in their eyes…
It took that sheep a while to die. At the last few moments, he struggles mightily, most of his blood already drained from his neck into a bin. His eyes were closed in pain, body shuddering while he kicked. And soon it was no longer an animal, no longer a being. Headless, skinless... In those few minutes though, it was fascinating and terrible.
