Category: Journals

by Rann

Around a week ago, I got a call from the Giv’at Ze’ev police, asking me to come in to `clarify some technical details’ about my arrest at a demonstration in the village of Bil’in a few weeks ago. By the time I showed up at the police station, on Sunday, June 26th, I had figured out that that interview would have nothing to do with the police. The shabak (Israel’s equivalent of the FBI) wanted to `have a chat’. That was, in fact, the exact phrase they used: `This is not an interrogation. We just wanted to have a chat and pass you a message’.

When I arrived at the police station, I was put in an interview room with a non-uniformed man, who stated his name was El’ad. After the usual body search, my phone and bag were taken away, though I was (generously) allowed to keep a drink I had bought earlier. Another non-uniformed man arrived and `El’ad’ passed him a note.

`El’ad’ proceeded to tell me that they know I am associated with the ISM and that I am in touch with `extremist’ Israelis, internationals, and Palestinians. He asked me for a response, and I stated that I am indeed an activist, but that I do not associate with any particular group. Apparently, the super-geniuses at the shabak had googled my name and found out otherwise. I was suitably impressed.

I was then informed that I was `on the brink of an abyss’ (later corrected to `you have one foot half-way down the abyss’), and that I was on the border of becoming a `danger to state security’. They seemed to think that I would soon be carrying bombs and ferrying wanted men into Israel. They brought up a case from 1986 when a woman was given a bomb by her Palestinian boyfriend. I was six years old at the time…

At one point, the other man in the room shouted at me for a while, more or less repeating what `El’ad’ had said, though in a much louder voice. He then proceeded to stare at me for the rest of the interview. While the effect was meant to be intimidating, I found it rather amusing. The entire `good-cop/bad-cop’ routine was entertainingly predictable. I seemed to throw the `bad-cop’ off a little when I asked for his name, which he gave as Eyal.

I was told that they were now taking me very seriously, that I am no longer an `ordinary activist’, that I had `gone up a couple of steps’, that I had `a large spotlight’ pointed at me, that not every activist gets invited to a shabak `chat’, that up to now I had been toying with the law, but they would no longer allow that. They advised me to `go to the beach for a while’.

The entire process took less than twenty minutes. I was shown out of the police station by a rather nervous-looking `El’ad’. I didn’t head to the beach…

Dear Friends,
Last month Jayyous farmers let their crop of lemons rot, for the last three weeks the tomato harvest is laying unpicked. Today most of farmers in Jayyous announced to people “go and get tomato form the green houses for free”.

The reason for the farmers’ strange behaviour?

In Jayyous there are around 80 green houses and 400 dunum of open crops, and most of them are cultivated with tomato. The average annual product of green house is 30,000kg (30 tons). The farmers could sell one box of tomatoes or 15kg for 30 cents in the local market. While the cost of growing one box of tomatoes is $3.5!

No traders can come from the main cities to collect the harvest from the area behind the wall due to lack of permits. There is no possibility to send any produce to the Israeli market.

In addition to that, yesterday the bulldozers started cutting the olive trees adjacent to the eastern side of the wall close to gate 24.

All the best,
Abdul Latif

By Diane Janzen

running quickly over the hills
to approach settlers harvesting Palestinian wheat fields
a confusion of angry words, sickles, and wheat churn in the air
police and soldiers use threats of arrest to clear the area
as we walk away i breathe with the images of the last hours in my
mind and on the tape in the video camera slung over my shoulder
the family, who is trying to prove ownership of this land, says
‘come, come to our house and drink tea’

in broken Arabic we ask, ‘where are the soldiers, the house?’
‘just down from that hill over there’
heavy feet as we approach the family sitting next to the rubble of
their house that a bulldozer and bagger demolished in fifteen short minutes
‘sit, sit on a mat that we managed to take from the house, and drink tea’

another dash through the hills to document
settlers harvesting more Palestinian wheat fields
this time with a combine that is allowed to leave the field
with the harvested wheat inside
police tell the Palestinian family to make a complaint at the police station in Hebron
something that takes time, and often feels pointless
‘come to our house. eat.’
‘drink another glass of tea after you finish eating – it’s good for you’

a visit to the village of Mufakara to see how things are the conversation moves to the devastating event of two months ago when settlers poisoned Palestinian grazing land
‘Ali, how many sheep have you lost from the poisoning?’
‘three large sheep and two small sheep’
we talk about the loss of other families in the village
‘Mahmoud has lost twenty-five adult sheep and twelve lambs’
for all a loss that so far has not had any compensation
i finish my first glass of tea
Ali tells his daughter, ‘quick, pour her more tea’

these are the times when drinking tea feels like taking communion
a symbol of brokenness, pain and confusion
why?
drink, and remember what you see
drink, and remember how you feel

by Allison and Rann

It was 12am on Sunday morning. We were headed to bed in Bil’in when we were alerted that Israeli soldiers had again entered the village. We, along with countless residents of Bil’in standing watch on rooftops, watched the military jeeps driving around the land near the annexation barrier, away from the village itself, for close to an hour before deciding to give up our post and go to sleep.

We were not able to quite lie down before we were called back to the roof — the soldiers had entered someone’s home.

In a pattern that has been repeating itself over the last week or so, the Israeli soldiers, approximately 25 in number, had chosen to harass a new member of the Popular Committee Against the Apartheid Wall in Bil’in, the local Palestinian organizing body. We, the two ISMers along with one resident of Bil’in, drove toward the soldiers, stopped the car, and got out in order to investigate the situation. Immediately we were faced with a group of soldiers directly in front of us, all pointing their M-16s at our faces. They began speaking to us in Hebrew, but then in English they ordered us to back away from the house, return to the car, and drive away. The soldiers stated that they were executing a military operation and that we were interfering with it.

After a few more questions, we decided to follow the orders of the soldiers and drove back to the ISM apartment, where we stayed up waiting for news from the Palestinians whose homes were searched. The ‘military operation’ in question involved no more than casual harassment and intimidation. Try to imagine for a moment that a gang of soldiers entered your home at 1am, pointed guns at your family members, demanded identification and searched the house for no other reason than your involvement in non-violent organizing. Just one more example of Israeli democracy in action.

We found out in the morning that the Israeli soldiers had searched several homes, taken identification cards, and verbally harassed the Palestinians of Bil’in that night. They left several hours later.

What happened early Sunday morning in Bil’in was not an isolated incident. The Israeli army has repeatedly come to harass the people of Bil’in at night, choosing different areas to ‘search’ each night.

Bil’in is also not the only village in the West Bank that is being intimidated, stripped of its privacy and peace of mind. Boudrus has also experienced similar harassment by Israeli soldiers in the middle of the night. The pattern seems to be similar every time: the jeeps come to Boudrus, spend some time harassing the villagers, then drive over to nearby Bil’in and do the same again. Incidents like these are well-documented and have been ongoing for many years.

Why is this happening? According to Lieutenant Colonel Tzachi Segev, commander of the 25th Battalion of the Armored Corps, which is operating in the Bil’in area: “The stronger the activity against the fence, the stronger our operations will be. We reserve the right to enter the village at any hour … Sometimes there is no escaping collective punishment, even if it has a negative impact. Collective punishment is closure, prohibiting people from entering a certain village, blocking the Bilin-Safa road [referring to the neighboring village] as a lever of pressure if the village does not behave properly.” (Meron Rappaport – Gandhi Redux)

Collective punishment is forbidden by the fourth Geneva Convention. It is illegal to punish entire segments of civilian population for the actions of a few individuals, whatever those actions may be. In this case, groups of civilians are being punished for organizing peaceful demonstrations. The right to organize and peacefully demonstrate is protected by the universal declaration of human rights and by Israeli law. In violating these rights, Israeli soldiers are committing war crimes