November 18, 2003
I was supposed to leave the ISM media office, today. Another activist was
supposed to come in and train yesterday, but never showed up, and my aim
was to shoot out of here midday today, and head to Jerusalem to decompress
a bit before flying home at the ass-crack of Friday morning. At 9am I was
woken up by the phone here in the office, with one of the ISM coordinators
telling me that (as many of you likely know by now) two soldiers were
killed nearby, in Beit Jala (the news is saying Bethlehem, I think), and
the checkpoint is closed. She said she and another activist would get
here tomorrow to take over, and that I might as well stay, considering
there was little chance I'd make it through the checkpoint anyway.
I was audibly disappointed, cause she had to follow up the suggestion by
asking if I was alright. I lied. I said I was just getting a little
fried and antsy, being cooped up in the office by myself for days on end.
The truth was, much in the same way as it had during my jail time in
Philly during the RNC years ago, my body seemed to have decided it was
done being here, despite my having no control over when I could leave.
Sleep has been sparse, tension constant, and yesterday the gas in the
heater ran out, so the office has been reduced to an icebox at sundown
(I'm wearing three layers, a ski cap, and -- when necessary -- a kaffiya,
just to keep warm). And yet, somehow, the mosquitoes in here haven't
gotten the memo that it's cold as shit, and they can start hibernating or
whatever the hell it is those little bastards do in the off season.
I hung up, resumed my position beneath a pile of blankets, and allowed
sleep to dissolve my developing inner monologue about how frustrated and
anxious I've become.
Eventually, I got up, showered, made tea, and began fishing out field
reports that had been buried in our email system when some Zionist hacker
subscribed us to Le Monde's email list about a million times. It seems
they managed to screw with other things too, cause all of a sudden
messages that were almost a week old were showing up, and other little
oddities were becoming apparent. Just as I'd finished posting them all to
the ISM website, I got another call -- this time from Sulfit.
3 ISMers had accompanied a Palestinian farmer and his family into their
(confiscated) olive groves, this morning; much to their own peril. The
IDF was there, and the guy running the show announced that he was a
maniac, his job was to be a maniac, and that even his military ID said
"maniac" on it. The intimidation became too much, and the farmer
apparently bolted out from behind the activists, and basically threw
himself into IDF custody (likely fearing for his family). They threw him
in a Jeep, and drove off. They returned with a bulldozer not far behind
them. Not surprisingly, they informed everyone that they were going to
destroy the whole grove, but then went on to explain that they planned
on killing the farmer by the end of the day, and if the family ever
returned, they'd be killed and their home would be destroyed.
Two of the ISMers proceeded to block the path of the bulldozer, while
another called me from her cell phone, to fill me in. In the time that
she was talking to me, the bulldozer turned around and left, but the
"maniac" had lunged for her camera, and threatened her for being on the
phone. Immediately, I typed up the details in a brief message, and
blasted it out to the ISM media list, and told the woman on the phone to
call me with anything else she needed. The shock didn't wear off, at all.
The idea that these assholes would literally tell this guy's family that
they were going to kill him by the end of the day was so repugnant and
outrageous, and yet, at the same time... What the hell could I do? I'm
stuck in Beit Sahour with the nearest checkpoint closed down.
About ten minutes ago, the ISM volunteer called me back. Apparently,
within minutes of my email going out to the media, the grove was flooded
with Israeli human rights workers from B'Tselem, Rabbis for Human Rights, and other groups -- who then proceeded to harvest every olive in sight -- leaving the family's children standing with their mouths agape, in awe that any Israeli was doing any such thing for them. About the same time, CNN showed up with a van and crew, and interviewed the family, the Rabbis, etc. (who knows if they'll actually run the story). And an Israeli truck driver stopped by to tell the ISM folks that he'd seen the Jeep with the farmer in it, parked about 5km away -- so the soldiers hadn't done
anything with him (yet).
Given that only a few minutes have passed... I don't really have my head
fully wrapped around what just happened. But it blew my fucking mind.
Despite having abstained from alcohol for the last 13 years, I feel like I
could really use a drink, right now. Had those two soldiers not been
killed, had the checkpoint been open... I'd have left, and no one would've
been here to take that call. Serendipity is a motherfucker.
supposed to come in and train yesterday, but never showed up, and my aim
was to shoot out of here midday today, and head to Jerusalem to decompress
a bit before flying home at the ass-crack of Friday morning. At 9am I was
woken up by the phone here in the office, with one of the ISM coordinators
telling me that (as many of you likely know by now) two soldiers were
killed nearby, in Beit Jala (the news is saying Bethlehem, I think), and
the checkpoint is closed. She said she and another activist would get
here tomorrow to take over, and that I might as well stay, considering
there was little chance I'd make it through the checkpoint anyway.
I was audibly disappointed, cause she had to follow up the suggestion by
asking if I was alright. I lied. I said I was just getting a little
fried and antsy, being cooped up in the office by myself for days on end.
The truth was, much in the same way as it had during my jail time in
Philly during the RNC years ago, my body seemed to have decided it was
done being here, despite my having no control over when I could leave.
Sleep has been sparse, tension constant, and yesterday the gas in the
heater ran out, so the office has been reduced to an icebox at sundown
(I'm wearing three layers, a ski cap, and -- when necessary -- a kaffiya,
just to keep warm). And yet, somehow, the mosquitoes in here haven't
gotten the memo that it's cold as shit, and they can start hibernating or
whatever the hell it is those little bastards do in the off season.
I hung up, resumed my position beneath a pile of blankets, and allowed
sleep to dissolve my developing inner monologue about how frustrated and
anxious I've become.
Eventually, I got up, showered, made tea, and began fishing out field
reports that had been buried in our email system when some Zionist hacker
subscribed us to Le Monde's email list about a million times. It seems
they managed to screw with other things too, cause all of a sudden
messages that were almost a week old were showing up, and other little
oddities were becoming apparent. Just as I'd finished posting them all to
the ISM website, I got another call -- this time from Sulfit.
3 ISMers had accompanied a Palestinian farmer and his family into their
(confiscated) olive groves, this morning; much to their own peril. The
IDF was there, and the guy running the show announced that he was a
maniac, his job was to be a maniac, and that even his military ID said
"maniac" on it. The intimidation became too much, and the farmer
apparently bolted out from behind the activists, and basically threw
himself into IDF custody (likely fearing for his family). They threw him
in a Jeep, and drove off. They returned with a bulldozer not far behind
them. Not surprisingly, they informed everyone that they were going to
destroy the whole grove, but then went on to explain that they planned
on killing the farmer by the end of the day, and if the family ever
returned, they'd be killed and their home would be destroyed.
Two of the ISMers proceeded to block the path of the bulldozer, while
another called me from her cell phone, to fill me in. In the time that
she was talking to me, the bulldozer turned around and left, but the
"maniac" had lunged for her camera, and threatened her for being on the
phone. Immediately, I typed up the details in a brief message, and
blasted it out to the ISM media list, and told the woman on the phone to
call me with anything else she needed. The shock didn't wear off, at all.
The idea that these assholes would literally tell this guy's family that
they were going to kill him by the end of the day was so repugnant and
outrageous, and yet, at the same time... What the hell could I do? I'm
stuck in Beit Sahour with the nearest checkpoint closed down.
About ten minutes ago, the ISM volunteer called me back. Apparently,
within minutes of my email going out to the media, the grove was flooded
with Israeli human rights workers from B'Tselem, Rabbis for Human Rights, and other groups -- who then proceeded to harvest every olive in sight -- leaving the family's children standing with their mouths agape, in awe that any Israeli was doing any such thing for them. About the same time, CNN showed up with a van and crew, and interviewed the family, the Rabbis, etc. (who knows if they'll actually run the story). And an Israeli truck driver stopped by to tell the ISM folks that he'd seen the Jeep with the farmer in it, parked about 5km away -- so the soldiers hadn't done
anything with him (yet).
Given that only a few minutes have passed... I don't really have my head
fully wrapped around what just happened. But it blew my fucking mind.
Despite having abstained from alcohol for the last 13 years, I feel like I
could really use a drink, right now. Had those two soldiers not been
killed, had the checkpoint been open... I'd have left, and no one would've
been here to take that call. Serendipity is a motherfucker.
posted by Joshua | 9:32 PM
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