Wild, Wild, West Bank

Jesus, where do I begin? Again, there is so much going on and so much to do that it is difficult to post what is on my mind when I think it. In some ways we have an important role as Internationals in the West Bank to build relationships with folks and break the isolation caused by the Israeli occupation, so many times internet cafe sessions become English-Arabic mutual learning sessions with local college students. Other times our time at the cafe is limited because we spend so much time talking to the super-friendly children on the street, who insist on escorting us on foot or on bike.

I've gotta admit I am in love with Beit Ummar, it sort of reminds me of Aguas Buenas, Puerto Rico, a place I used to love to visit when I was growing up.

Residents of Beit Ummar and Halhoul, another local community, have been continuing to organize against the Karme Tzur Israeli settler expansion in spite of the Israeli violence inflicted on Palestinians & International volunteers and the arrest of local activist and Popular Committee member Musa Abumariya. Yesterday, Friday July 7th at around Noon, over 300 farmers and residents of the Palestinian villages of Beit Ummar and Halhoul held Friday prayers together on their land that has been ravaged by Israeli bulldozers in the past week. International and Israeli supporters accompanied Palestinians in a non-violent march to the land in order to observe the activities of the military and the settlers, and support their struggle against the illegal expansion of the settlement Karme Tzur.



They demonstrators marched around the settlement on the land where trees and grape vines have been uprooted because of the construction of a new wall that will enclose the settlement, illegally annexing Palestinian land to it. The residents, mostly men and children, carried signs that said, “No to the Policy of Damaging Land and Human Beings” and other things. The Israeli soldiers attempted to stop the demonstration but eventually we got through.

The march and prayer were beautiful and non-violent, however armed settlers descended on the group and waved their rifles in the air as they called in reinforcements from the military. More military arrived and they lined the hill above the demonstrators as prayer services ended.

At 7pm in the evening, three jeeps entered the village shooting tear gas, rubber bullets, and sound grenades at people in the streets for about an hour. Some of us stayed with the Abumariya family, to calm down the children, while others took to the street with still and video cameras in hand. On our tractor ride through town we bumped into army jeeps shooting rubber bullets at children on the street. It was an unbelievable scene. I still can't get used to this level of drama unfolding before my eyes. I felt like I was in the Wild, Wild West. I later found out that the Jeish took a young man from the village for supposedly throwing stones.

Later in the night, while I was writing up the Apartheid piece, new friends from called to me from the street to come down and photograph soldiers. I immediately ran down the stairs with camera in hand when the friends said, "our soldiers." I froze as I saw that there wasn't another hostile incursion occurring, put away my camera, and watched a small platoon of camouflaged masked men with AK-47's, swords, and spraypaint. The Jeevara, Palestinian for Guevara or the PFLP were on the street.

Top City Krew in New York City, never rolled so tough.

I'd be lying if I didn't say I was a little eager to get back to our house. Two other Internationals were still e-mailing, while I was invited to observe the platoon of freedom fighters enchanting the children and young men out on the street with their presence. This spectacle of solidarity was fantastic and frightening at the same time, not because I felt that these armed men would mistake us for enemies, but because their presence highlights the intensity of the struggle over Palestinian land and the constant peril of violence. We walked right through the throng of fighters and observers and headed straight home for some sleep. Last night I dreamt of The Macheteros leaving their mark in Barrio Obrero letting Boricuas now that someone had their back.