The bits of evil carefully weighted out in advance

Two days after the demonstration in Kufr Qaddum this Friday I am sitting here trying to analyze what exactly it is that happened there that made out of this event a turning point for me. Writing a post reflecting upon my little traumas here seems a very selfish deed when it’s pasted unto the broad picture of what Palestinians have been going through for a lifetime or more.

Up to this point I have been trying very hard to find some logic in the Israeli policies in Occupied Palestine, even if they are all wrong to me; to dig under it all in search for some human impulses buried in there, to try to "balance" myself. In the meantime it’s very easy to concentrate on blaming the settlers for it all and forget about the fact that it’s the Israeli government that stands behind them. Yes, the Israeli government does destroy a settlement occasionally and this goes all over the news and they patch up like this what would have been otherwise a too bad of a world opinion. The on-the-ground situation speaks of a very different picture though: the settlement’s fences move down few meters every now and then, ever so slowly they steal more and more land. It’s not done in a sudden and shocking manner, no, it happens in a very stealthy and sneaky way, bit by bit. Then the settlers burn the land around the settlement so that the Palestinian owner gives it up at some point or is too afraid to step foot on it; thus this land is taken over too. The settlements are everywhere in the West Bank now and they keep on growing, it’s so disheartening, so depressing to observe. I have been here for two months and yet I could already witness their growth myself: what was empty land the last time is all built up in a couple of days the next week you are there. But here I got carried away, it was the army I wanted to talk about and here I deviated from the topic exactly as I predicted.

What was it that “woke me up” during this Friday demonstration? I did very well know that coming here as a peace activist and going to demonstrations against the Occupation, against the Wall or anything against the policies of the Israeli government may lead to me being detained. Hearing an international like me was detained along with a Palestinian should not have been that shocking.

Israel has two different law systems when it comes to people detained (and then they argue they are not an Apartheid state!). Until 2002 there was Civil System that was valid for Israelis and Internationals alike. Then the Separation Barrier was built separating the West Bank from Israel. The international solidarity movement with the Palestinians grew and as more and more internationals started to demonstrate along with Palestinians, a certain "Ministry of Interior" had to be created in order to deal solely with these internationals-Rachel Corries. Thus internationals fall now into a third legal system, in between the Palestinians and the Israelis. They can be detained for 24 hours, after which their case should go the civil court and it doesn’t because there are no ground for them to be detained in the first place. Nothing like that happens to Palestinians. They can be detained with no charges pressed against them (Administrative Detention) for indefinite period of time. Whatever the case, internationals today are privileged in occupied Palestine. It feels unfair to be treated differently than any other human being and at the same time it’s difficult not to take use of this privilege by being here and protesting against it.

Seeing "one of us” gettng detained and knowing it could have been me, the brutality in the Occupational army's shutting down our protest this Friday, getting gassed more than what I'm used to, all of this made me finally open my eyes a little: there was nothing "human" in any of this and I'd better stop digging for it or trying to understand any "other side". Here's a video of the two arrests that took place: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=grli-nG_g-o&feature=player_embedded

I also felt left out in how vulnerable I felt after the demonstration; everyone seemed to be doing fine emotionally while I was in a wreck of state for the rest of the day. Whoever got arrested, Palestinian and International alike, was taken away in jeeps. Whoever got injured, or inhaled too much tear gas, was taken away in ambulance. The rest of us went to the lunch organized in advance to commemorate the memory of Yasser Arafat.

Everyone had moved on. I was sitting next to a Palestinian man and he was trying to make me eat, rolling the musakhan for me and shoveling it in my hands. In the same moment an activist received a message from the international arrested saying soldiers had just taken turns to hit him. They spat on the Palestinian man and made him crouch with his head between his legs. And here we were, having lunch. How could that be? Then I looked around at the faces around me. The man who made the sandwich for me had been in prison for 8 years. Another one had been released not a long time ago after a year in prison. The rest knew they could be arrested for asking for their rights anytime as well. The other internationals had more experience than me, they all already knew. Nobody was about to sit there and get depressed. Palestinians get arrested all the time. As to the international: yes, they may beat him up a little, but it won’t be anything serious. It’s like moving your fence down the road to steal more land: nobody hears about it because it’s done with measure. They weren’t going to beat him up severely so that a big story comes out after this and the media roars with reports about it. All evil is done in a cold well-measured and well-thought manner.

Visiting Amal Jumaa, one of the prisoners released as part of the Israeli-Palestinian prisoners swap

After the demonstration at Kufr Qaddum yesterday we joined ISM activists for a visit to former Palestinian prisoner in Nablus hospital. Amal Jumaa belonged to Fatah’s armed wing and was sentenced to eleven years of which she served nine. She was released three weeks ago during the deal Hamas and Israel reached on Oct. 11 for the prisoners swap.

Amal gained a lot of publicity and media attention after going on a hunger strike two days ago. She took this decision after the Palestinian Authority failed to provide her with any appropriate treatment for her cancer of the uterus condition. More information about this can be found at: http://www.maannews.net/eng/ViewDetails.aspx?ID=435876

The history of Amal’s neglected health condition goes much further back though, to the time she was imprisoned. She was diagnosed with cancer of the uterus back in 2004 and her condition went about neglected while she was in both Ramleh and HaSharon prisons for whole six years. We asked if she was given anything after she had been diagnosed. “Water”, was her reply. And some light pain-killers similar to Panadol. As her condition became graver, she was administered some drops too. They had strong side effects such as constant drowsiness and what was described as fits of madness: pulling her hair, yelling. The director of the prison declared she was fine. Amal’s inmate decided to prove that her behavior was due to side-effects from the drops and she started taking them herself; her behavior got bizarre in the same way and she slept through her days as well. A hunger strike was started by other female inmates in the same prison asking for Amal to be treated. It lasted for 4 weeks and 4 days. Amal was finally taken to a hospital in Haifa and was operated. This was in the year of 2010. She was handcuffed the whole time while in hospital and was allowed no visits at all, included by the Red Cross. After the operation she got transferred to Damun prison. Her condition wasn't any better and a profound bleeding was added to it now. Once again she was not treated and was drugged instead. Amal started sending letters to friends and media asking for help from outside. The PA Ministry of Prisoners’ Affairs provided her with 4000 shekels for 4 months so she could buy pads to take care of the bleeding.

Amal was released among 27 female prisoners in the deal with Gilad. Fifteen days ago she collapsed and was taken to the hospital in Nablus. Even after freedom had been granted to her, she still had to resort to hunger strike to receive her right to a proper treatment. Now the President himself is making sure she is to be sent to a hospital abroad where she can receive the necessary treatment after the many years of neglect in prison. There have been delays in her travel due to the days off because of the Eid and delays in her having a passport issued to travel. A report from a hospital in Amman will determine the location she is to be taken to one of these days – it could be in Jordan or somewhere in Europe.

Amal was visibly tired during our visit. Most of her story was related to us by a friend of hers, she herself had no voice to speak and was constantly slipping into drowsiness. All of her upper front teeth have been taken out during her imprisonment and she showed us where they used to be in her mouth. She managed to stand up and shake our hands when we walked in and also pose for a picture with us. I hope she is on her way to a hospital where she can finally be helped now... This is the sole "hope" after all the injustices done to someone named "Hope" (Amal in Arabic).

Tear-gassed like never before: today, Kafr Qaddum

I came back from the demonstration at Kafr Qaddum few hours ago completely smashed and broken-hearted. I still have no words to describe what happened today neither report about it. I was hoping I would be able to share a video or upload a picture that would tell at least part of the story but it turned out I hadn't taken any that would transfer even a bit of it:my videos consist of random things while running and show nothing much but my panic and so do my pictures as well.

Today, exactly seven years after the death of the father of the Palestnian nation, Yasser Arafat, the weekly demonstration at Karf Qaddum was completely crushed. We were teargassed like never before and I still don't have exact information how many people got injured. What I saw was houses getting tear-gassed and a child being taken out one of them vomitting. I saw a man who had been hit by a canister in the eye. At this point I didn't care about taking pictures, it felt inhumane. I took in so much tear-gas that I started to choke and felt like I could not walk anymore. My mind almost tried to trick me to sit down and give up at that point.

An ISM activist we had shared a drink with few minutes ago was arrested along with a Palestinian man.

We heard from the ISM activist that soldiers were beating him up. We don't know why it was him who got arrested. Perhaps it was because he had a kuffiyah on..

Each demonstration gets more and more violent. It starts to become clear they are trying to disheart us. This time running inside the village didn't feel safe; soldiers walked further inside than any time before and gassed the mosque, the usual place for taking refugee for us. Three of them stood aside on the hillside so they could shoot tear gas from there inside the village as well; sound bombs were heard as well.

After the demonstration was over we had lunch to commemorate the anniversary from Arafat's death and local Palestinians and internationals ate together musakhan , a tasty Palestinian dish. Yes, the demonstration was crushed, yes, so was I, but the Palestinian spirit had endured.

During the meal a message from the ISMer who got arrested was received saying soldiers were taking turns hitting him. The Palestinian was spat on and made to crouch with his head between his legs. There's a video of the ISMer getting arrested; he says he can't feel his wrists because they put the handcuffs on too tight. I will share this one as soon as it's uploaded online by ISM. A precise report on what happened today should be posted on MPT's blog as well soon, once I am back to something like myself.

Found pictures featuring my humble personality and my teammate in this news report in Arabic, if you could read it or wish to see the pictures:

http://www.maannews.net/arb/ViewDetails.aspx?ID=435978&MARK=%D9%83%D9%81%D8%B1+%D9%82%D8%AF%D9%88%D9%85

Growing up under Occupation: in between game and reality

“One needs to spend at least two years here in order to get to know the situation in the West Bank well”, I was told few days ago by a local human rights activist. I have spent only two months. Most of the time I feel like I am in a place caught in the impossible, it just feels surrealistic. And my mind simply refuses to assimilate it. Often it takes me few days before I am capable of hearing my thoughts and then verbalizing my experiences here. During this time I find myself overloaded with people’s stories of suffering with no means to release them; I guess it will take me some time to “get used” to the situation here and have it not exhaust me mentally as much. Every family I get to interact with throughout the day has a story to tell: a settler’s attack they experienced, a family member missing or imprisoned, episodes of violence. What strikes me the most about it all is that these stories are usually not told intentionally. It’s not like we meet a family and they find it necessary to tell us about their troubles because they know we are internationals and we should be “educated” about the situation here. Instead their stories often come up unexpectedly in the course of the conversation; sometimes I hear them even by chance. It feels like they are part of the ordinary discourse and the ordinary life, nothing that really stands out in people’s memories and yet they are painful. Pain doesn’t stand out because it was always here. I guess this is what happens when you grow up under Occupation.

Two days ago we were back to Deyr Istya picking olives. Around noon the settlement’s security called the farmer and told him to leave the land (his land!) in five minutes because he didn’t have permission from the army to pick that day. He refused to leave. Then the army called and ordered him to leave once more. This time he complied. We had only three trees left to finish harvesting on this land. Half an hour more might have sufficed. “No, you have only five minutes, you can come back another day but now you have to go”. It didn’t make any sense… It was clear they just wanted to fool around. Leave now, but come at another time. Just so. And so we left. The settlement’s security car escorted us from distance as we walked away from the land not having had time to collect the olive bags off the land (a donkey was needed for that matter since we could not use the settler’s road that was nearby). It’s hard to describe how humiliating obeying this guy’s whim felt. Any interferring from us, the internationals, could have escalated the situation and created additional trouble for this family and so we did nothing. As we all got in the car, I listened to the conversation between the 4-year old that had witnessed the whole story and the 3-year old that had come with his brother to pick us up who didn’t know what had happened (the guys in the picture below).

The 4 year old explained that we had seen the “Bitachon” which would be the Hebrew word for “settlement security”. “Oh, is this like police?”, asked the 3 year old, eyes wide open. The 4-year old clarified this is different; these ones had M-16. “But you should not be afraid of them, you should just shake hands with them, this is what I do”, instructed the 4-year old knowledgeably and obviously proud of being the older one who knew the ropes. And indeed, this is the little guy whom I have seen myself greeting soldiers and “Bitachons” alike with not the slightest sign of fear. He did that today and the settlement security actually smiled, as shocking as this was. Now I just want to mention my ignorance in order for a comparison to be made between me and him: I learnt the Hebrew word for "security" and the fact that he had M16 from that very conversation, I had no clue about these details before.

Later I witnessed the pretend-game those two had. One of them pointed a gun toy at the other one’s head yelling rudely “Go!” and the other one followed the orders.They went around their yard a couple of times in this manner: “Go”, “Stop”, “Go”, “Stop”… At some point the boy with the gun pointed at his head got tired of the game and dropped out of it for which he was punished by being “shot”.

I myself keep on getting shot numerous times during the day by random kids playing with their toy guns, pointing them at me from cars passing by or while I'm walking by them in the street.

Yesterday we were picking olives again, this time at a different location, close to an army camp. A bit after we started working we saw two soldiers approaching us from the road. They were pointing their guns at us in a squatting position hiding behind a bush. They were such a ridiculous and absurd sight, it felt like an episode from some movie they must have seen and were enacting. After all, we were just picking olives, tarps on the ground and all, what were they doing, did they think we were a threat indeed? I couldn’t help but wave at them, it was my spontaneous reaction, I guess I did it to invoke some reality back to this situation. They returned later in their military jeep and ordered us to leave the land; we didn’t have permission to pick that day they said. The family actually did have permission but an oral not a written one and they couldn’t prove it so for about half an hour the soldiers would come, then go back and argue with us.

the military jeep stopping by

Usually we(activists) don’t interfere in such situation unless being asked to do so by the Palestinians we are with. This time I asked them if they minded me talking to the soldiers and the family welcomed the idea. Initially it was two soldiers, then more came, I started worrying this might get ugly as the family seemed determined to stay just as much as the soldiers were determined to make us leave. We had learned earlier in the day that three members from this family had been arrested after trying to plow this same land last year and questioned for 6 hours: what were they doing close to a military base without having sought permission first. I would say it must have been obvious: they were plowing their land. One of the soldiers seemed to really like his job. He asked us if we had taken pictures of them, then when we said we hadn’t, he yelled at my teammate Fred not to lie to him. During this conversation the youngest boy from the family(aged around 7) would stay really close to the soldiers and look at them and their guns up close with big curious eyes until an adult from the family would pull him back. I was observing one of those soldiers-teenagers (not more than 18 in age) if he would start feeling uncomfortable from us trying to obviously keep the kid away from him and maybe lower his gun that was almost in the kid’s face; he didn’t do anything of the kind. The whole story ended with another van of soldiers arriving, these ones happened to know of the permission the family had to be there that day and we were left alone and continued working eventually. I asked the boy’s father how come his kid wasn’t afraid of the soldiers and their guns. He answered: “Well, you know, we just had the Eid”[Eid al-Adha, Festival of Sacrifice, a big muslim holiday]. “Every Palestinian kid received a toy gun as a present. It’s all about war here. They are not afraid of guns”. So the soldier’s gun is like a toy to them? I wondered.

When leaving the land this day we were stopped by a flying checkpoint; soldiers were standing at the road stopping cars and checking documents, there were about 5 of them. One of them stood off the road and seemed to be entertained playing with a scope his gun had: he pointed it at different objects in order to look at them up close . There was nothing important he could possibly look at nearby, he was pointing it at random things, just as a kid playing with his toy indeed. A 18-19 year-old Israeli boy who have been given a gun and was playing around with it.

A visit to Balata Refugee Camp

The olive harvest is finished and we find ourselves with much more free time on our hands and can actually visit places and travel a bit. Few days ago we went to visit Balata Refugee camp which is adjacent to Nablus. Balata is the biggest refugee camp in the West Bank in terms of population. More than 25 000 people are crammed in the area of just one square kilometer(used to be 0.25km2). The camp was created in 1950 after the Nakba or what is the Catastrophe of 1948 for the Palestinians, the year when Israel was established as a state. Palestinian villages that were in the territory of what is nowadays Israel were depopulated and destroyed. Thousands of people became permanent refugees or "internally displaced" inside their own country. Most of the inhabitants of Balata came from Jaffa and surrounding villages or what is now Tel Aviv.

We found this graffiti across from Jacob’s well depicting the history of the camp’s creation:

The happy life Jaffa inhabitants lived before the Nakba

Leaving home...

The UN camp is built or what is to become Balata

The hope to return... Some people do keep the keys from their homes still and hope to be able to return one day. MPT has recored one of the many cases like this: http://mptinpalestine.blogspot.com/2010/05/nakba-and-balata-refugee-camp.html

After a short walk along the camp’s tiny streets we visited Yafa Cultural Center, a NGO inside the camp that organizes activities for its residents. We talked with the staff about the situation in the camp today. They told us a bit of the camp’s history and joked: “What was once tents has become sky-skapers today”. At first residents of the camps were hoping they would be able to return to their villages and refused to accept the idea about any permanent housing; gradually they lost hope and started building concrete houses. Because of the lack of space and the natural growth of the population the houses had to grow horizontally, in place of the spot previously occupied by the tents. There was no space to spare for streets and therefore only very narrow passages came to exist in between the buildings. The lack of space yielded and keeps on yielding a lot of social issues, children are especially affected and they're quite hyperactive.

The main problem today is poverty though. While about 60% of the Balata residents used to work in Israel before the First Intifada this is no longer the case now; the camp went through hell and was basically turned into a prison while occupied by the army during both of the Intifadas. As the checkpoints throughout the West Bank got eased two years ago residents are able to move more freely and gain some economical stability but there’s still 40% of an unemployment rate.

As all oppressed people, people in the camp are avidly interested in politics, in particular in any developments on the political scene concerning the refugee's right to return. At this point our conversation itself deviated towards politics too. It has been more than 60 years of a life as refugees... All these years their life has been and still is at a standstill, there has been no change whatsoever. They last witnessed the Arab Spring, they have seen the world shift and yet nothing happens over here. Our new Yaffa friend himself says he has made many presentations on the refugee issue but sees no point in talking anymore; it hasn’t given any fruits. He said he has always been moderate in his political beliefs and will continue to be but doesn’t see the use in it anymore as well.

"The chain shall certainly break", reads the Arabic

A social worker from Germany was present in the room during this conversation. She said she was here to supervise the construction of a sponsored by the German government mental health clinic in the camp. She seemed very tired as well. They both agreed everyone in the camp needed some psychological assistance and they were about to start running different programs assisting the camp population but this wasn’t a solution to any problem, it was only patching, addressing the symptoms but not the cause. A political solution was needed: one state, no occupation, freedom...

We took more time to walk around the camp, this time we went deeper into the little passageways in between the houses. Children, the main population of this camp, would come out around every corner and demand attention; they don’t see foreigners walking around often. “What’s your name, how are you”, all of them demanded. They were really nice and sweet but from time to time there was a tangible feeling of hyper-activeness in the air, a slight hint of what could easily be ignited to aggressiveness. I tried to disarm them with my utmost abilities for a calm and peaceful presence, smiles and attention and they indeed stayed friendly. We talked to a store owner and his younger friend, they had us sit with them and treated us some candy. They told us about a army raid of both their homes two nights ago. The younger man was doing most of the talking; the store owner looked visibly depressed. I asked the later if I could write a report about the army raid of his house but he said he didn’t want to talk, he was afraid. We met few kids who insisted they wanted to show us something; they took us to the nearby archaeological site of Tell Balata and we spent a lot of time chatting with them there. One of them, a ten year old, asked us if we also had Jewish army in the streets where we lived. On parting the boys asked us for money and were visibly disappointed with the small change we gave them; they wanted to buy a football ball.

I was deadly tired after spending those hours in the camp and I caught myself appreciating the abundance of space we had in Huwwara aftarwards, when walking in the street...

Demo at Kafr Qaddum again [or time for the weekly dose of tear-gas]

It was Friday yesterday and this has come to mean “go to a demonstration” in our schedules these days. There are about five or six demonstrations happening on a regular basis on Friday throughout the West Bank nowadays but we felt like going back to the one in Kafr Qaddum again as it’s nearby, clearly Palestinian-led (when we were at Bil’in last week there were more internationals than Palestinians present, for example) and one we felt connected to in a way.

We met with activists from ISM and all of us filled a van that headed to the village. On the way we were stopped by a flying checkpoint. This is when soldiers show up unexpectedly at a random location to monitor traffic. Three soldiers stood at our door and started asking questions: where were we going, what for, etc. As previously agreed we replied that we were going to Qalqilia, the next village on our way, as tourists. The soldier who was doing the talking eyed us suspiciously; they very well knew we were headed to the demonstration. He asked again where everyone in the van was from and various countries names were voiced in reply, we weren’t any regular bunch of tourist and this was obvious. He decided to let us though and with a very ironic voice concluded our “meeting” accentuating every word pronounced: “Welcome to [pause] Israel”. Then we continued our separate realities having tramped lies like this: ours was about our destination, his was about our location; he very well realized we were in Palestine, himself included. He would not be dressed in this uniform of his and carrying his silly weapons otherwise, would he.

As we arrived in Kafr Qaddum it became clear from the very beginning that this demo was going to be different, bigger and more organized. More than a hundred people had gathered, few other internationals apart from us as well. The local council of the village had prepared a number of big posters with the image of Abu Mazin (Palestinian president Mahmoud Abbas) in support of his going to the UN. A smaller poster read “UNESCO said Yes to Palestine” and a third one had the image of the Foreign Israeli Minister Avigdor Lieberman and condemned his opposing the UNESCO vote. Children took a poster in hand and the weekly protest this Friday started with them in the front lead. They seemed so happy and proud, lined up by the organizer as if they were at school holding the letters of the alphabet and getting ready for the annual picture to give to their parents. Well, this is their alphabet nowadays, I thought.

As we started walking, demonstrators chanted in Arabic “Palestine is free”, “Go ahead Abu Mazin”, “Liberman go away”, “God is greater than the occupier”. There was quite more global message crystallizing at this demo that we could sense. It was not only about the lost road to settlers; a distinct political message concerning the UN vote and UNESCO’s acceptance of Palestine was there too. This time we walked much further than where the demonstration stopped last time till we faced the soldiers to what came to a couple meters of a distance. The Israeli chief commander approached the group of protestors with two other soldiers behind him and three others protecting them on the side.

Now this was something new. They addressed Murad, the spokesman of the demonstrators, by name and then we witnessed a ten minute conversation between the later and the Israeli commander in Arabic. The commander asked the demonstrators that no stones are thrown today, no barbed wire is moved, he basically tried to set conditions for the protest. The Palestinians refused to comply with them unless they had their road back and the other side followed some rules themselves.

The soldiers retreated and then an international took the loudspeakers on behalf of the demonstrators. He addressed the soldiers in Yiddish and English questioning their grounds for being armed and shooting tear gas when all the villagers were unarmed and just wanted their road back; why was it that both Palestinians and Israelis couldn’t use it. This was followed by the sweet childish voice of a small Palestinian girl and what she had to say about it all.

There were five minutes of a pause there during which soldiers were advising one another and two sides faced each other peacefully. Then the army announced on their loudspeaker what I understood to say: “We will follow military procedures now, we have warned you”. At that we retreated back to where the Palestinians made a road block and the action started: a couple of stones thrown from the Palestinian side, tear gas shot immediately back from the Israeli one, many canisters at a time and right at the demonstrators. The army was not joking indeed. While shooting tear gas the soldiers would advance little by little towards us till after one hour they were already inside the village.There were a lot of canisters yet again coming straight at us and fast during this whole time. I choose to stay in the fronts this time and there was a lot of running, canisters falling all around us. Two Palestinians got injured: one of them was hit with a tear-gas canister in the hand and was taken away by the ambulance; another one broke his foot while running away from the tear-gas canisters.

Despite all of this the mood among the demonstrators was merry, whether because of the adrenaline in the whole situation or simply because this time there was a clear and strong resistance on the part of the Palestinians. They made a few roadblocks out of stones so that the army would not be able to come inside the village with their jeeps. After, they set three tires on fire hoping that the smoke would bother for a while the soldiers. It was their only opportunity to confront the oppressor, to resist and I could see this as an important outlet of emotions for the demonstrators. The stones thrown by the Palestinians are usually thrown by the youngsters, the teenagers who must have accumulated a lot of frustration and it was now their time to enact some of that. The soldiers looked like aliens, they were armed with everything possible: gas masks, of course, shields and what not. Throwing stones on them wasn’t going to hurt them, it was symbolic. People have the right to resist. And that’s how I can explain why the Palestinian adults put up with the stone throwing by the young people in the village at demonstrations: it’s their weekly therapy in a way and I must admit that I understand it after having spent just a month here.

I could take almost no pictures at all during the tear gas shooting; there was not much time to do so. The second picture on the right shows this house's yard filled with tear-gas. Tthis time the canisters were not only aimed at the demonstrators directly but they were shot at houses as well. Two donkeys weren’t spared just the same. A canister almost hit one of them but the poor animal was fast enough to jump aside and avoid it. We learnt after the demonstration’s end that two people have needed treatment for gas inhalation. Towards the demo’s end we saw an entire family go out from one of the houses, all children crying. They had tear gas in their house [I suppose yard] and had to come out.

There was a sense of tangible spiritual victory for the Palestinians on this demonstration in the air despite all the brutal forces used by the Israelis on us. Or maybe exactly because they had fallen as low as to use such. After the end of the protest Palestinian men walked around the village together singing with big smiles on their faces. They had resisted!

Olive harvesting can be a form of political resistance

The olive tree has always been a symbol of the Palestinian identity, culture and tradition. It is the source of livelihood for at least 100 000 Palestinians today who are olive oil producers. After Israeli’s occupation of the West Bank in 1967 olive cultivation has acquired additional connotations as well though; it has strong social and political aspects. Planting of olive orchards is often a desperate attempt to prevent the confiscation of land by Israel or settlers. Harvesting despite the numerous difficulties farmers experience in the form of settler’s violence and army regulations has made out of the olive tree a symbol of resistance as well.

Around 40% of the West Bank is not or accessible or the accessibility is restricted to Palestinians today, due to settlements, outposts, bypass roads, military bases, closed military areas and areas Israel has declared as being nature reservesa(according to OXFAM report: http://www.oxfam.org/sites/www.oxfam.org/files/the-road-to-olive-farming_0.pdf).

As the olive harvesting season is very near to its end this year I felt there were a lot of things worth going back to from our days immersed in the olive picking. Some of them I missed to convey in a written form up to this day while concentrated instead on different kind of actions. Other times the events of the day seemed insignificant to write about when singled out to their moment back then. We didn’t happen to witness any of the violent settler attacks that took place this year which sometimes made us feel like we were at the wrong place after hearing such had taken place indeed elsewhere. On the other hand, maybe it was the “wrong place” precisely because of our presence there; it does make you wonder... It takes time for some experiences to sink in for one to realize that it’s not only the settlers or army’s violence worth writing about. It’s exactly the many at first sight smaller indignities that constitute the daily reality of the Palestinian farmer in the oPt (occupied Palestinian territories) which when put together make their final product, the olive oil, appear as if it was made of tears indeed.

Burin – amidst the settlements

The olive harvest this year started in early October and timed perfectly with our team’s arrival in Huwwara. Neighboring Burin was the first village where both picking and our work as team started.

Because of its location between mountains topped by two Israeli settlements Yizhar(with Yitzar outpost) and Bracha, Burin falls completely into Area C of the West Bank and is under full Israeli control. Ytzhar is at the forefront of the so called "price tag" policy or campaign which calls for attacks against Palestinians in retaliation for actions of the Israeli government against West Bank settlements (for more information please visit:http://www.haaretz.com/news/diplomacy-defense/yitzhar-extremists-all-settlers-must-fight-construction-freeze-1.287512)

Those amidst the village’s 4000 inhabitants who own olive grove land must receive “prior coordination” from the Israeli Civil Administration (a part of the military administration) in order to be able to tend to their land. Many Palestinians cannot prove land ownership as customary traditions saw land being passed down from one generation to the next without the necessity for formal land registration. Others refuse to apply for “permission”, or if it is given, will only pick on days without it. We accompanied a few families in Burin the first days of our work in the harvest that had chosen to pick without permission or the so called “prior coordination” with the Israeli army. The first day we picked a hundred meters away from the Bracha settlement. We saw the olive trees bordering the settlement that had been set on fire earlier this year, as well as some of the trees owned by the family. We still took the time to pick the few olives remaining on the branches the fire took mercy on.

Despite the proximity to the settlements from where we picked, these were obviously days devoid of fear. Farmers sang songs and joked around with internationals under the strong sun. This seemed as much of an act of resistance as their mere coming to their own land that day despite the lack of authority permission from the Occupying military force.

After a couple of days of picking with different families in Burin, we started to see familiar faces and on their turn villagers also started recognizing our presence there. While waiting at the village’s center for Rhassan, or the director of Burin’s Community center who would match us with a family in need for the day, we were the object of unexpected gestures of kindness. A man selling flowers once approached us and merely handed a flower without saying a word, then went back to his morning duties. The small falafel corner owner would send a kid carrying some tasty sandwich for what would be yet another breakfast of ours that morning. It felt good to be establishing connection to these incredibly nice people and receiving these small but deeply appreciated tokens of gratitude for our presence there.

In the words of the 2008 United Nations report “The Olive Harvest in the West Bank and Gaza,” “As a military occupying power, the [Israeli army] is obligated to ensure public order and life in the Occupied Territories and the Government of Israel has repeatedly committed to ensuring that Palestinian farmers have access to their fields. (http://unispal.un.org/pdfs/olive_harvest_fs08.pdf). “With or without the army’s presence, it’s all the same, we don’t feel protected by the army”, says Basima, whose family we pick with one of the days in Burin, while the mosque’s loudspeaker notifies us about the army presence in the village that day. This family’s house is singled out from the village and stands alone in proximity to the settlement. One night this May settlers came down and s set on fire the family’s car. The same family had their windows broken on a different occasion and overall faces frequent raids from neighboring settlers, especially on Sabbaths when the later are supposed to be devoted to worship instead. Nevertheless the family, who came back to their native village after years of labor in Jordan and Kuwait, chooses to stay. That day, on October 16, in a different spot from where we are in Burin settlers gathered to photograph and throw stones at farmers. As a result, soldiers arrested two Palestinian harvesters– one of them for allegedly pushing a settler’s camera away causing it to fall on the ground and the other one for unknown reasons. The price tag campaign yet another time seems to be not a phenomena belonging to the Ytzhar settlement but more of a pattern of punishing the indigenous people no matter who is to blame in the given situation.