Tag: Gaza

Letters from Rafah

Written by K and M

Special greetings again from Rafah. There is just no way to describe life here at the southern end of the Gaza Strip. We are the only International people in all of Rafah and the news has traveled fast and everyone knows we are here.

This afternoon all of us, along with our two interpreters went over to the Block O neighborhood which is just a short distance from the building where our apartments are located. M, the young man who is serving as translator for the men, lived in Block O before it was destroyed by the Israelis in 2004.

We had visited Block O the first week we were in Rafah and were shocked by the level of destruction. M showed us the mosque where he and his friends would go to pray mosque that was all but demolished. He told us they used to play football in the square in front of the mosque. Now they call it the “Square of Death”. We could not venture close to the wall for fear of being shot without warning. I worry about the children who are not allowed to be children.

While we were climbing among the ruins of Block O, some of M’s friends from the university walked by and invited us to visit his home. We walked along a street strewn with rubble (I didn’t think anyone could possibly be living on this street) and entered a courtyard. It too was a mass of rubble. I noticed a piece of tile that may well have been someone’s living room or kitchen.) From this courtyard of destruction we entered a small yard that was like another world. Roses and other flowers were blooming in a small garden. Several large pieces of cloth created a shady tent-like structure.

Before long, S brought out the usual assortment of lawn chairs and we were joined by his parents, a brother, several young nieces and a number of young boys from the area. We have not gone anywhere in Rafah without attracting a cadre of preadolescent boys.

This family lives at the very edge of the pile of rubble that is now Block O. The mother of the family was a very animated woman who spoke her mind. She told us that she lives in fear of her family’s home being destroyed just as most of the other Block O homes were. The family home is not too far from one of the Israeli “security” towers and we did hear shooting from the tower while we were with the family.

This family also asked us questions as United States citizens. They asked us if we thought Muslims were terrorists and what we thought about U.S. efforts to “export” its brand of democracy around the world. They also expressed their dismay that George Bush was elected president. A number of people have asked us about the election. They can’t understand how a democratic nation would choose someone like Bush. The father of this family had the saddest face I have seen, and in Rafah, we have seen many very sad faces. The image that stays with me from our afternoon is Block O is the roses blooming in this
most unlikely of places. Maybe peace will come to this troubled land in some unlikely way.

Occupational Hazards

To my friends,

I have been in Rafah now for two weeks, and it is still very hard for me to communicate to the outside world what I am seeing here. It’s hard to explain the feelings, tastes, and smells of my days here. It seems that we are in this strange in between period, that everyone here is waiting until the silence ends, and Israel resumes it’s reign of terror.

I want everyone in the united states to know that Israel is NOT keeping with the agreements of the ceasefire. Many people (though not enough) are talking about the apartheid wall that is being built inside the 1967 borders of the West Bank. It is very very important for people to connect this wall in their minds with the massive wall that Israel continues to build around the Gaza Strip. Here they call the Gaza Strip a prison cell because no one is aloud to enter or leave, but this wall really makes it official.

Today we got a call from a family whose home is along the border of Egypt where they are building the wall. Several months ago the family was forced to evacuate the house, and they are now living with relatives in another part of town. We went to visit the family, and the mother, Umm Tarick, told us the story.

On Monday, August 4th the family got a call from their old neighbors saying that the Israeli army had begun to demolish their home. (THIS IS IN THE MIDST OF THE CEASEFIRE AGREEMENT) The house was surrounded by mounds of sand, and the family has been forbidden to enter to get any of their belongings. The family owns the land, and the house was built legally in 1995. The construction of their house cost them $50,000 dollars.

On Tuesday morning a group of young children from the neighborhood volunteered to enter the house and retrieve some of the families belongings like their identification papers, and other important documents. they thought that because they were children the army would not shoot at them. While the children were in the house two tanks came and announced that if anyone tried to go near the house they would be shot dead. The next day, the same group of children again entered the house to retrieve what they could. The Israeli army opened fire, and the children all ran from the house. nobody was injured.

Umm Tarrick’s husband worked in Saudi Arabia for 20 years to make the money to buy their house and belongings. Between the house, the land, and the families belongings, the Israeli army will be destroying $130,000 of this families hard earned money. We offered to help this family in any way we could, and Umm Tarrick thanked us. She asked us not to try to enter the house, because she is too concerned for our safety. As we left, I turned to see her sobbing into her hands. There was nothing I could say. I feel very helpless here sometimes.

Last night I stayed at Abu Ahmed’s house again, and got to hang out with Sally and Suzanne. At about 10:45 pm we were watching television, and suddenly we heard an extremely loud explosion very close to the house. Suzanne jumped up, and turned off the television quickly. It was unclear to all of us if it had been the Israeli army or some sound grenade that a kid got ahold of, but we were all very visibly shaken. Very soon after we went to bed, but Suzanne could not sleep. She complained of a stomach ache, and told me in Arabic that it was because of the shock of the explosion. we sat up for about half an hour listening to the tanks drive back and forth, and trying to communicate in each other’s languages. She tried on her new mandeel and dress for me, and eventually we went to bed.

I don’t want Suzanne to live in fear anymore, and I’m not sure if I can do much more than sit by her, and try to make her laugh. I have to go now. Thanks so much all of you for listening and hearing.

all my love,
emma

—–
Read another letter home by Emma: Weddings and Martyrs.

Weddings and Martyrs

Friends,

I am sorry my reports have been slow. Sometimes it is so hard to find the words to write about the things that I see everyday in Rafah. In the last two weeks there have been seven assasinations in the Gaza Strip. These are done with missles that are fired from F16s. Sometimes as many as seven missles are fired in one assasination, killing innocent bystanders, and destroying shops.

Last night I stayed at Abu Ahmed’s house. His daughter is getting married today, and the whole house feels the excitement. His neighbor Abu Fati invited us over for tea, so we went. We sat with his whole family for about an hour, and I talked with his daughter who is trying to learn English. While we were there we heard several tanks drive by the border, sometimes shooting. When we left, we noticed that there was no one out in the street. We heard a tank drive by, and cautiously walked toward Abu Ahmed’s. After a few steps, the tank opened fire in our direction. We darted back, and waited until it continued on. Back at Abu Ahmed’s I could feel my heart racing. This is what the people of Rafah face everday when walking in their neighborhoods, to school, or the store. It is so hard for me to imagine, even living here, what it must feel like to own the house that is being shot at every day, or not be able to leave like I can. The tank continued to fire at Abu Ahmed’s house all night, for about five minutes every hour. The sounds of rapid machine gun fire have been incorporated into all of my dreams.

Several days ago our group went to the nearby city of Khan Younis to visit the shahiid tent of an eight year old girl who was shot while playing next to her house. A shahiid tent is a tent that is put up for three days after someone is killed by the Israeli military. The family welcomes guests to pay their respects. We went inside, and spoke with the mother and sisters of Aisha (the shahiid).

The morning that Aishe was shot, she had been fasting with her mother. She grew hungry, and her mother gave her some money, and told her to go buy crackers and juice, as she was so young, and needs to eat. Aisha went on her bike to the store. On her way back she stopped to play with several children right outside her home. Their house is right next to an Israeli settlement, which is guarded fiercly by towers and tanks.

Aisha’s mother told us that the tanks open fire frequently on the children who play in the street. There were no adults in the area, yet on this day they opened fire again, sending live bullets through the young body of Aisha, killing her, and seriously wounding several other children. Could these eight year olds be armed resistence fighters? Aisha was the pride of her family. She got 98% on all her tests in school, and Aisha’s sister says that anyone who knew her would have given their life for her. She died because she lives in an Occupied land, where soldiers are so afraid of children that they stay inside their huge tanks while shooting at anything that moves.

I am afraid that if the Israeli soldiers in Rafah never leave their tanks, their fear will grow until nothing will ever stop them from murdering all innocent children they see. I want these soldiers (who are people caged inside their weapons), and the people of Rafah who caged inside Rafah by the soldiers, all to stop living in fear. The only way to live without fear is to live in justice and peace, without Occupation.

All of my love,
Emma

Rachel’s emails

Compiled by The Guardian

23-year-old American ISM activist Rachel Corrie was crushed to death by a bulldozer as she tried to prevent the Israeli army destroying a home owned by the Nasrallah family in Rafah, in the Gaza Strip. What follows are a series of emails to her family:

February 7 2003
Hi friends and family, and others,

I have been in Palestine for two weeks and one hour now, and I still have very few words to describe what I see. It is most difficult for me to think about what’s going on here when I sit down to write back to the United States. Something about the virtual portal into luxury. I don’t know if many of the children here have ever existed without tank-shell holes in their walls and the towers of an occupying army surveying them constantly from the near horizons. I think, although I’m not entirely sure, that even the smallest of these children understand that life is not like this everywhere. An eight-year-old was shot and killed by an Israeli tank two days before I got here, and many of the children murmur his name to me – Ali – or point at the posters of him on the walls. The children also love to get me to practice my limited Arabic by asking me, “Kaif Sharon?” “Kaif Bush?” and they laugh when I say, “Bush Majnoon”, “Sharon Majnoon” back in my limited arabic. (How is Sharon? How is Bush? Bush is crazy. Sharon is crazy.) Of course this isn’t quite what I believe, and some of the adults who have the English correct me: “Bush mish Majnoon” … Bush is a businessman. Today I tried to learn to say, “Bush is a tool”, but I don’t think it translated quite right. But anyway, there are eight-year-olds here much more aware of the workings of the global power structure than I was just a few years ago.

Nevertheless, no amount of reading, attendance at conferences, documentary viewing and word of mouth could have prepared me for the reality of the situation here. You just can’t imagine it unless you see it – and even then you are always well aware that your experience of it is not at all the reality: what with the difficulties the Israeli army would face if they shot an unarmed US citizen, and with the fact that I have money to buy water when the army destroys wells, and the fact, of course, that I have the option of leaving. Nobody in my family has been shot, driving in their car, by a rocket launcher from a tower at the end of a major street in my hometown. I have a home. I am allowed to go see the ocean. When I leave for school or work I can be relatively certain that there will not be a heavily armed soldier waiting halfway between Mud Bay and downtown Olympia at a checkpoint with the power to decide whether I can go about my business, and whether I can get home again when I’m done. As an afterthought to all this rambling, I am in Rafah: a city of about 140,000 people, approximately 60% of whom are refugees – many of whom are twice or three times refugees. Today, as I walked on top of the rubble where homes once stood, Egyptian soldiers called to me from the other side of the border, “Go! Go!” because a tank was coming. And then waving and “What’s your name?”. Something disturbing about this friendly curiosity. It reminded me of how much, to some degree, we are all kids curious about other kids. Egyptian kids shouting at strange women wandering into the path of tanks. Palestinian kids shot from the tanks when they peak out from behind walls to see what’s going on. International kids standing in front of tanks with banners. Israeli kids in the tanks anonymously – occasionally shouting and also occasionally waving – many forced to be here, many just agressive – shooting into the houses as we wander away.

I’ve been having trouble accessing news about the outside world here, but I hear an escalation of war on Iraq is inevitable. There is a great deal of concern here about the “reoccupation of Gaza”. Gaza is reoccupied every day to various extents but I think the fear is that the tanks will enter all the streets and remain here instead of entering some of the streets and then withdrawing after some hours or days to observe and shoot from the edges of the communities. If people aren’t already thinking about the consequences of this war for the people of the entire region then I hope you will start.

My love to everyone. My love to my mom. My love to smooch. My love to fg and barnhair and sesamees and Lincoln School. My love to Olympia.

Rachel

February 20 2003
Mama,

Now the Israeli army has actually dug up the road to Gaza, and both of the major checkpoints are closed. This means that Palestinians who want to go and register for their next quarter at university can’t. People can’t get to their jobs and those who are trapped on the other side can’t get home; and internationals, who have a meeting tomorrow in the West Bank, won’t make it. We could probably make it through if we made serious use of our international white person privilege, but that would also mean some risk of arrest and deportation, even though none of us has done anything illegal.

The Gaza Strip is divided in thirds now. There is some talk about the “reoccupation of Gaza”, but I seriously doubt this will happen, because I think it would be a geopolitically stupid move for Israel right now. I think the more likely thing is an increase in smaller below-the-international-outcry-radar incursions and possibly the oft-hinted “population transfer”.

I am staying put in Rafah for now, no plans to head north. I still feel like I’m relatively safe and think that my most likely risk in case of a larger-scale incursion is arrest. A move to reoccupy Gaza would generate a much larger outcry than Sharon’s assassination-during-peace-negotiations/land grab strategy, which is working very well now to create settlements all over, slowly but surely eliminating any meaningful possibility for Palestinian self-determination. Know that I have a lot of very nice Palestinians looking after me. I have a small flu bug, and got some very nice lemony drinks to cure me. Also, the woman who keeps the key for the well where we still sleep keeps asking me about you. She doesn’t speak a bit of English, but she asks about my mom pretty frequently – wants to make sure I’m calling you.

Love to you and Dad and Sarah and Chris and everybody.

Rachel

February 27 2003
(To her mother)

Love you. Really miss you. I have bad nightmares about tanks and bulldozers outside our house and you and me inside. Sometimes the adrenaline acts as an anesthetic for weeks and then in the evening or at night it just hits me again – a little bit of the reality of the situation. I am really scared for the people here. Yesterday, I watched a father lead his two tiny children, holding his hands, out into the sight of tanks and a sniper tower and bulldozers and Jeeps because he thought his house was going to be exploded. Jenny and I stayed in the house with several women and two small babies. It was our mistake in translation that caused him to think it was his house that was being exploded. In fact, the Israeli army was in the process of detonating an explosive in the ground nearby – one that appears to have been planted by Palestinian resistance.

This is in the area where Sunday about 150 men were rounded up and contained outside the settlement with gunfire over their heads and around them, while tanks and bulldozers destroyed 25 greenhouses – the livelihoods for 300 people. The explosive was right in front of the greenhouses – right in the point of entry for tanks that might come back again. I was terrified to think that this man felt it was less of a risk to walk out in view of the tanks with his kids than to stay in his house. I was really scared that they were all going to be shot and I tried to stand between them and the tank. This happens every day, but just this father walking out with his two little kids just looking very sad, just happened to get my attention more at this particular moment, probably because I felt it was our translation problems that made him leave.

I thought a lot about what you said on the phone about Palestinian violence not helping the situation. Sixty thousand workers from Rafah worked in Israel two years ago. Now only 600 can go to Israel for jobs. Of these 600, many have moved, because the three checkpoints between here and Ashkelon (the closest city in Israel) make what used to be a 40-minute drive, now a 12-hour or impassible journey. In addition, what Rafah identified in 1999 as sources of economic growth are all completely destroyed – the Gaza international airport (runways demolished, totally closed); the border for trade with Egypt (now with a giant Israeli sniper tower in the middle of the crossing); access to the ocean (completely cut off in the last two years by a checkpoint and the Gush Katif settlement). The count of homes destroyed in Rafah since the beginning of this intifada is up around 600, by and large people with no connection to the resistance but who happen to live along the border. I think it is maybe official now that Rafah is the poorest place in the world. There used to be a middle class here – recently. We also get reports that in the past, Gazan flower shipments to Europe were delayed for two weeks at the Erez crossing for security inspections. You can imagine the value of two-week-old cut flowers in the European market, so that market dried up. And then the bulldozers come and take out people’s vegetable farms and gardens. What is left for people? Tell me if you can think of anything. I can’t.

If any of us had our lives and welfare completely strangled, lived with children in a shrinking place where we knew, because of previous experience, that soldiers and tanks and bulldozers could come for us at any moment and destroy all the greenhouses that we had been cultivating for however long, and did this while some of us were beaten and held captive with 149 other people for several hours – do you think we might try to use somewhat violent means to protect whatever fragments remained? I think about this especially when I see orchards and greenhouses and fruit trees destroyed – just years of care and cultivation. I think about you and how long it takes to make things grow and what a labour of love it is. I really think, in a similar situation, most people would defend themselves as best they could. I think Uncle Craig would. I think probably Grandma would. I think I would.

You asked me about non-violent resistance.

When that explosive detonated yesterday it broke all the windows in the family’s house. I was in the process of being served tea and playing with the two small babies. I’m having a hard time right now. Just feel sick to my stomach a lot from being doted on all the time, very sweetly, by people who are facing doom. I know that from the United States, it all sounds like hyperbole. Honestly, a lot of the time the sheer kindness of the people here, coupled with the overwhelming evidence of the wilful destruction of their lives, makes it seem unreal to me. I really can’t believe that something like this can happen in the world without a bigger outcry about it. It really hurts me, again, like it has hurt me in the past, to witness how awful we can allow the world to be. I felt after talking to you that maybe you didn’t completely believe me. I think it’s actually good if you don’t, because I do believe pretty much above all else in the importance of independent critical thinking. And I also realise that with you I’m much less careful than usual about trying to source every assertion that I make. A lot of the reason for that is I know that you actually do go and do your own research. But it makes me worry about the job I’m doing. All of the situation that I tried to enumerate above – and a lot of other things – constitutes a somewhat gradual – often hidden, but nevertheless massive – removal and destruction of the ability of a particular group of people to survive. This is what I am seeing here. The assassinations, rocket attacks and shooting of children are atrocities – but in focusing on them I’m terrified of missing their context. The vast majority of people here – even if they had the economic means to escape, even if they actually wanted to give up resisting on their land and just leave (which appears to be maybe the less nefarious of Sharon’s possible goals), can’t leave. Because they can’t even get into Israel to apply for visas, and because their destination countries won’t let them in (both our country and Arab countries). So I think when all means of survival is cut off in a pen (Gaza) which people can’t get out of, I think that qualifies as genocide. Even if they could get out, I think it would still qualify as genocide. Maybe you could look up the definition of genocide according to international law. I don’t remember it right now. I’m going to get better at illustrating this, hopefully. I don’t like to use those charged words. I think you know this about me. I really value words. I really try to illustrate and let people draw their own conclusions.

Anyway, I’m rambling. Just want to write to my Mom and tell her that I’m witnessing this chronic, insidious genocide and I’m really scared, and questioning my fundamental belief in the goodness of human nature. This has to stop. I think it is a good idea for us all to drop everything and devote our lives to making this stop. I don’t think it’s an extremist thing to do anymore. I still really want to dance around to Pat Benatar and have boyfriends and make comics for my coworkers. But I also want this to stop. Disbelief and horror is what I feel. Disappointment. I am disappointed that this is the base reality of our world and that we, in fact, participate in it. This is not at all what I asked for when I came into this world. This is not at all what the people here asked for when they came into this world. This is not the world you and Dad wanted me to come into when you decided to have me. This is not what I meant when I looked at Capital Lake and said: “This is the wide world and I’m coming to it.” I did not mean that I was coming into a world where I could live a comfortable life and possibly, with no effort at all, exist in complete unawareness of my participation in genocide. More big explosions somewhere in the distance outside.

When I come back from Palestine, I probably will have nightmares and constantly feel guilty for not being here, but I can channel that into more work. Coming here is one of the better things I’ve ever done. So when I sound crazy, or if the Israeli military should break with their racist tendency not to injure white people, please pin the reason squarely on the fact that I am in the midst of a genocide which I am also indirectly supporting, and for which my government is largely responsible.

I love you and Dad. Sorry for the diatribe. OK, some strange men next to me just gave me some peas, so I need to eat and thank them.

Rachel

February 28 2003
(To her mother)

Thanks, Mom, for your response to my email. It really helps me to get word from you, and from other people who care about me.

After I wrote to you I went incommunicado from the affinity group for about 10 hours which I spent with a family on the front line in Hi Salam – who fixed me dinner – and have cable TV. The two front rooms of their house are unusable because gunshots have been fired through the walls, so the whole family – three kids and two parents – sleep in the parent’s bedroom. I sleep on the floor next to the youngest daughter, Iman, and we all shared blankets. I helped the son with his English homework a little, and we all watched Pet Semetery, which is a horrifying movie. I think they all thought it was pretty funny how much trouble I had watching it. Friday is the holiday, and when I woke up they were watching Gummy Bears dubbed into Arabic. So I ate breakfast with them and sat there for a while and just enjoyed being in this big puddle of blankets with this family watching what for me seemed like Saturday morning cartoons. Then I walked some way to B’razil, which is where Nidal and Mansur and Grandmother and Rafat and all the rest of the big family that has really wholeheartedly adopted me live. (The other day, by the way, Grandmother gave me a pantomimed lecture in Arabic that involved a lot of blowing and pointing to her black shawl. I got Nidal to tell her that my mother would appreciate knowing that someone here was giving me a lecture about smoking turning my lungs black.) I met their sister-in-law, who is visiting from Nusserat camp, and played with her small baby.

Nidal’s English gets better every day. He’s the one who calls me, “My sister”. He started teaching Grandmother how to say, “Hello. How are you?” In English. You can always hear the tanks and bulldozers passing by, but all of these people are genuinely cheerful with each other, and with me. When I am with Palestinian friends I tend to be somewhat less horrified than when I am trying to act in a role of human rights observer, documenter, or direct-action resister. They are a good example of how to be in it for the long haul. I know that the situation gets to them – and may ultimately get them – on all kinds of levels, but I am nevertheless amazed at their strength in being able to defend such a large degree of their humanity – laughter, generosity, family-time – against the incredible horror occurring in their lives and against the constant presence of death. I felt much better after this morning. I spent a lot of time writing about the disappointment of discovering, somewhat first-hand, the degree of evil of which we are still capable. I should at least mention that I am also discovering a degree of strength and of basic ability for humans to remain human in the direst of circumstances – which I also haven’t seen before. I think the word is dignity. I wish you could meet these people. Maybe, hopefully, someday you will.

February 8 2003
I got a number of very thoughtful responses to the email I sent out last night, most of which I don’t have time to respond to right now. Thanks everyone for the encouragement, questions, criticism. Daniel’s response was particularly inspiring to me and deserves to be shared. The resistance of Israeli Jewish people to the occupation and the enormous risk taken by those refusing to serve in the Israeli military offers an example, especially for those of us living in the United States, of how to behave when you discover that atrocities are being commited in your name. Thank you.

Received by Rachel on February 7 2003
I am a reserve first sergeant in the IDF. The military orisons are filling up with conscientious objectors. Many of them are reservists with families. These are men who have proven their courage under fire in the past. Some have been in jail for more than six months with no end in sight.

The amount of AWOLS and refusals to serve are unprecedented in our history as a nation as well as are refusals to carry out orders that involve firing on targets where civilians may be harmed. In a time now in Israel where jobs are scarce and people are losing their homes and businesses to Sharon’s vendetta, many career soldiers – among them pilots and intelligence personnel – have chosen jail and unemployment over what they cold only describe as murder.

I am supposed to report to the Military Justice department – it is my job to hunt down runaway soldiers and bring them in. I have not reported in for 18 months. Instead, I’ve been using my talents and credentials to document on film and see with my own eyes what the ISMers and other internationals have claimed my boys have been up to.

I love my country. I believe that Israel is under the leadership of some very bad people right now. I believe that settlers and local police are in collusion with each other and that the border police are acting disgracefully. They are an embarrassment to 40% of the Israeli public and they would be an embarrassment to 90% of the population if they knew what we know.

Please document as much as you can and do not embellish anything with creative writing. The media here serves as a very convincing spin control agent through all of this. Pass this on letter to your friends. There are many soldiers among the ranks of those serving in the occupied territories that are sickened by what they see.

There is a code of honor in the IDF – it is called “tohar haneshek” (pronounced TOWhar haNEHshek). It’s what we say to a comrade who is about to do something awful, like kill an unarmed prisoner or carry out an order that violates decency. It means literally “the purity of arms”.

Another phrase that speaks to a soldier in his own language is “degle shachor” (DEHgel ShaHor) – it means “black flag”. If you say, “Atah MeTachat Degle Shahor” it means “you are carrying out immoral orders”. It’s a big deal and a shock to hear it from the lips of “silly misguided foreigners”

At all times possible try to engage the soldiers in conversation. Do not make the mistake of objectifying them as they have objectified you. Respect is catching, as is disrespect, whether either be deserved or not.

You are doing a good thing. I thank you for it.

Peace,

Danny

Continuation of her email to her mother, February 28 2003
I think I could see a Palestinian state or a democratic Israeli-Palestinian state within my lifetime. I think freedom for Palestine could be an incredible source of hope to people struggling all over the world. I think it could also be an incredible inspiration to Arab people in the Middle East, who are struggling under undemocratic regimes which the US supports.

I look forward to increasing numbers of middle-class privileged people like you and me becoming aware of the structures that support our privilege and beginning to support the work of those who aren’t privileged to dismantle those structures.

I look forward to more moments like February 15 when civil society wakes up en masse and issues massive and resonant evidence of it’s conscience, it’s unwillingness to be repressed, and it’s compassion for the suffering of others. I look forward to more teachers emerging like Matt Grant and Barbara Weaver and Dale Knuth who teach critical thinking to kids in the United States. I look forward to the international resistance that’s occurring now fertilizing analysis on all kinds of issues, with dialogue between diverse groups of people. I look forward to all of us who are new at this developing better skills for working in democratic structures and healing our own racism and classism and sexism and heterosexism and ageism and ableism and becoming more effective

One other thing – I think this a lot about public protest – like the one a few weeks ago here that was attended by only about 150 people. Whenever I organize or participate in public protest I get really worried that it will just suck, be really small, embarrassing, and the media will laugh at me. Oftentimes, it is really small and most of the time the media laughs at us. The weekend after our 150-person protest we were invited to a maybe 2,000 person protest. Even though we had a small protest and of course it didn’t get coverage all over the world, in some places the word “Rafah” was mentioned outside of the Arab press. Colin got a sign in English and Arabic into the protest in Seattle that said “Olympia says no to war on Rafah and Iraq”. His pictures went up on the Rafah-today website that a guy named Mohammed here runs. People here and elsewhere saw those pictures.

I think about Glen going out every Friday for ten years with tagboard signs that addressed the number of children dead from sanctions in Iraq. Sometimes just one or two people there and everyone thought they were crazy and they got spit upon. Now there are a lot more people on Friday evenings.

The juncture between 4th and State is just lined with them, and they get a lot of honks and waves, and thumbs ups. They created an infrastructure there for other people to do something. Getting spit on, they made it easier for someone else to decide that they could write a letter to the editor, or stand at the back of a rally – or do something that seems slightly less ridiculous than standing at the side of the road addressing the deaths of children in Iraq and getting spit upon.

Just hearing about what you are doing makes me feel less alone, less useless, less invisible. Those honks and waves help. The pictures help. Colin helps. The international media and our government are not going to tell us that we are effective, important, justified in our work, courageous, intelligent, valuable. We have to do that for each other, and one way we can do that is by continuing our work, visibly.

I also think it’s important for people in the United States in relative privilege to realize that people without privilege will be doing this work no matter what, because they are working for their lives. We can work with them, and they know that we work with them, or we can leave them to do this work themselves and curse us for our complicity in killing them. I really don’t get the sense that anyone here curses us.

I also get the sense that people here, in particular, are actually more concerned in the immediate about our comfort and health than they are about us risking our lives on their behalf. At least that’s the case for me. People try to give me a lot of tea and food in the midst of gunfire and explosive-detonation.

I love you,

Rachel

Rachel’s last email

Hi papa,

Thank you for your email. I feel like sometimes I spend all my time propogandizing mom, and assuming she’ll pass stuff on to you, so you get neglected. Don’t worry about me too much, right now I am most concerned that we are not being effective. I still don’t feel particularly at risk. Rafah has seemed calmer lately, maybe because the military is preoccupied with incursions in the north – still shooting and house demolitions – one death this week that I know of, but not any larger incursions. Still can’t say how this will change if and when war with Iraq comes.

Thanks also for stepping up your anti-war work. I know it is not easy to do, and probably much more difficult where you are than where I am. I am really interested in talking to the journalist in Charlotte – let me know what I can do to speed the process along. I am trying to figure out what I’m going to do when I leave here, and when I’m going to leave. Right now I think I could stay until June, financially. I really don’t want to move back to Olympia, but do need to go back there to clean my stuff out of the garage and talk about my experiences here. On the other hand, now that I’ve crossed the ocean I’m feeling a strong desire to try to stay across the ocean for some time. Considering trying to get English teaching jobs – would like to really buckle down and learn Arabic.

Also got an invitation to visit Sweden on my way back – which I think I could do very cheaply. I would like to leave Rafah with a viable plan to return, too. One of the core members of our group has to leave tomorrow – and watching her say goodbye to people is making me realize how difficult it will be. People here can’t leave, so that complicates things. They also are pretty matter-of-fact about the fact that they don’t know if they will be alive when we come back here.

I really don’t want to live with a lot of guilt about this place – being able to come and go so easily – and not going back. I think it is valuable to make commitments to places – so I would like to be able to plan on coming back here within a year or so. Of all of these possibilities I think it’s most likely that I will at least go to Sweden for a few weeks on my way back – I can change tickets and get a plane to from Paris to Sweden and back for a total of around 150 bucks or so. I know I should really try to link up with the family in France – but I really think that I’m not going to do that. I think I would just be angry the whole time and not much fun to be around. It also seems like a transition into too much opulence right now – I would feel a lot of class guilt the whole time as well.

Let me know if you have any ideas about what I should do with the rest of my life. I love you very much. If you want you can write to me as if I was on vacation at a camp on the big island of Hawaii learning to weave. One thing I do to make things easier here is to utterly retreat into fantasies that I am in a Hollywood movie or a sitcom starring Michael J Fox. So feel free to make something up and I’ll be happy to play along. Much love Poppy.

Rachel

ISM Statement on British Suicide Bombers

ISM Media Office

[This statement is provided here for historical accuracy. For an updated statement on this incident, please see the Frequently Asked Questions page.]

The International Solidarity Movement supports non-violent resistance to the illegal and brutal occupation of Palestine. Palestinians have long been at risk of death, imprisonment and torture when they engage in acts of peaceful resistance. When internationals are present, that risk is somewhat reduced. But now the Israeli army is targeting international peace activists as well, violating international law and attempting to suppress all means of protest in the occupied territories.

On April 30, 2003 a suicide bomber and an accomplice tried to enter “Mike’s Place” bar in Tel Aviv. One murdered three people in addition to killing himself. The other escaped. They both held British passports. These activities are in complete contradiction to the purpose and commitment of ISM to non-violent resistance.

There have been media reports trying to connect these two men to ISM. There is no connection. They never tried to infiltrate ISM. They never contacted the ISM. They could have attended a memorial service for Rachel Corrie in Rafah that was open to anybody. As far as we know, the reports of them attending a demonstration sponsored by ISM are wrong. However, that too would have been open to the public.

As a policy, ISM requires two days of training for all of its activists. This functions as a screening in addition to training in non-violent peaceful resistance and orientation to the ISM guidelines. All of our groups function by consensus. This process discourages any individuals from acting impulsively. We know our activists, and none have engaged in or have been accused of engaging in, any aggressive, confrontational, or illegal activity.

General Yaalon of the Israeli Army gave an order on the eve of the Jewish festival of Passover to remove ISM from the West Bank and Gaza. This order long preceded the bombing in Tel Aviv. The Israeli army wants us to leave because we are providing witness to the atrocities committed by the Israeli army. Israel and the United States have gone to great Lengths to ensure that no International Observers would be sent to Palestine by The United Nations or any other objective International Organization. ISM activists have come to provide witness to the cruelty, the brutality and the truth about this occupation and its’ purpose.