I lie awake in bed and wonder what the fuck I am doing. Conversations from the day whirling through my head. I question whether i’m actually going too far or whether its socialised fear, not only mine but that of my friends, thats getting the better of me. My emotional side pumps fear through my blood, my arms tingle, my stomach churns. The rational side of my brain tells me its riskier getting in a car than going to Gaza or Ni’lin, and atleast the latter is meaningful. It tells me people are kidnapped all over the world. It tells me i’m going to be in a big group in Gaza. Noone will know that i’m jewish unless I trust and tell them. Why should i be a target. I’m going to build playgrounds, its not so controversial, perhaps the most fluffy political act I will ever take. It tells me that I will go to Ni’lin before I leave, so it may as well be tomorrow. I will go once. I think to myself – if everyone who cares goes once we lessen the risk to ourselves but maintain solidarity and the international & Israeli presence that (maybe) helps keep the soldiers in check. The logic calms my mind but the fear is still rushing through my body. I barely sleep.
The morning comes, I ride to meet the 10 or so Israelis going to Ni’lin today. We sit in a haphazard circle on the street waiting for everyone to show up. People don’t talk much, aside from brief niceties and introductions. I cant tell whether its group awkwardness, my fear, our minds not really present – already thinking ahead to the guns we are about to stand in front of – or just a friday morning not quite awake yet. Its probably all of this. Anyway it doesn’t help calm my nerves, and maybe thats a good thing. Naïve bravery or a false sense of security are more dangerous than my nerves.
Ni’ilin. I follow cautiously out of the village through the olive groves along the dirt path that leads to the route of the wall. Under my feet the ground is littered with military mementos – rubber bullets, ammunition shells, stun grenades, cardboard bullet-boxes, and teargas cannisters ranging in variety. Every few seconds another cannister is launched. We watch the sky ahead, tracing the line of gas to try and avoid being hit but its almost impossible to see the cannister itself. Today they mostly follow the court ruling and launch the gas-grenades in an arc rather than aimed straight at the crowd. I say mostly because a teenager was just shot in the head, again, with a gas cannister. Blood everywhere, he was rushed away in an ambulance. Every half hour or so the soldiers push forward toward the village guns blazing, then they pull back and we move forward toward the path of the wall, then they push forward again and we run back, and so on for several hours. Its a strange feeling running in fear. Thinking the only thing that will determine whether you are shot or not is luck. And maybe if you can get to the front of the pack, pushing past others. It feels really instinctive, in the sense of survival instinct devoid of empathy, seeking only to save yourself. I feel guilt the moment I realise this is what i’m acting on, I try to stop myself but i’m sure i’m running faster than I ever have before. Every step I wonder if I will fall at the next. In a moment of calm I discuss these feelings with my demo-buddy, she echoes my thoughts, its relieving. Most shockingly, we are the ones running while the 14 yr olds stand still in defiance, arms up at the soldiers. They are asking that perverse question posed too often between teenagers in the West Bank. The 14yr old Palestinian asks the 18 yr old Israeli – its your choice, will you shoot dead a clearly unarmed child in full view? They shouldn’t be so brave I think to myself. But I watch some kids, maybe 10, explain to eachother where the guy was shot just moments ago, and I see the fear not so far below the surface. Its in that straight line formed by pursed lips, its in the brief moment of rapid blinks as the information is conveyed, its in the hyper-alertness of kids in these villages resisting the wall.
The ‘demonstration’ was chaos, more a mass cat and mouse exercise with live ammunition and peoples freedom and livelihoods at stake. It was broken up before it started. We gathered as several hundred village men did their Friday prayer outside under an old redgum on the outskirts of the village, encircled by soldiers – 2 armoured vehicles, a line of soldiers on foot in full battle gear, and snipers positioned on rooftops. The instant the prayer had finished – before people had even stood up – a rain of teargas cannisters fell on the crowd. Everyone ran, in every direction, but eventually we found ourselves shepherded back into the village streets. Small groups of shabab (youth) with Kafias covering their faces ran to collect the gas cannisters and throw them back at the soldiers. The crowd dispersed in groups down different streets, some trying to get back out of the village to the path of the wall via different alleys. Many, like me, confused and following whichever group we ended up closest to. I would stop in caution as we approached the source of the gunshots echoing through the streets. Watching from just a little further away than most, standing behind walls to take cover, slowly building the courage to keep going toward the path of the wall, and the 18 year olds with machine guns. By the end 3 people were shot – two with gas cannisters and one with live .22 ammunition. Actually, I don’t know if it really ‘ended’, eventually the group I came with decided they’d had enough of running back and forth from the soldiers, and we left while the kids kept at it. I guess resistance here doesn’t finish, it slowly subsides for some time and reignites again. Maybe because there was never a demonstration it couldn’t really finish. Maybe those kids were there till dusk, persisting in defiance while I ate hummus in Tel Aviv, went to the beach to wash away the afternoons gas-residue, and packed my bag for Gaza.
