The Blanket

The Blanket - A Journal of Protest & Dissent

Snapshots from Occupied Bil'in

 

Greta Berlin • 10 September 2005

When people ask me what I've done on my summer vacation, what can I tell them? How is it possible to convey the sounds, smells, sights of an occupation that is trying to grind the people into the same dust as their land?

So I thought I'd send you some 'snapshots' of this little village, a brave and determined people, who have creatively stood in front of heavily armed soldiers who would have beaten them into the ground were it not for their determination, aided by internationals and the Israeli peace activists.

Click


Several of us are running away from the teargas that was so oppressive, we choked and gasped throughout the day. Tears streaming down our faces, we stumble into an open door of a small house with chickens and ducks pecking at the front unpreturbed. On the ground in front of the metal door sat a woman holding out half an onion for each of us. In fact, she was sitting on a huge bag of them, and she expertly cut them in half. She knew we needed them. Without a word, as we streamed past her, she gave us each one.

Click

A little girl hiding behind her mother reaches out to touch my beaded Palestinian bracelet as her grandmother pulls me into the house. Rubber bullets were flying over our heads and sound bombs were exploding in front of us, and they wanted me to be safe. They give me water to drink and motion for me to sit down. I pull off the bracelet and hand it to the little girl. She immediately pulls a small silver bracelet off her wrist and gives it to me. I have it on as I am typing this email.

Click

An 80-year-old woman screams at the soldiers, up under their face guards which aren't going to protect them from her anger. When they snear and turn away, she picks up half of a peach she's been eating and throws it at one of them. Three of them come stomping back to arrest her as several of us start yelling "Go away. She won't hit you if you go away. You're on her land. You're stealing her land." Just as they turn away, she hits one of them with a full bottle of water which sprays all over him. He doesn't dare turn around to look.

Click

A 75-year-old woman stands with me. She's very British and is dressed very nicely, down to a lovely hat she's wearing. Her son had been posted in Jordan long ago, and she'd become interested in justice for the Palestinians. We have joined arms so the soldiers can't get through to the Palestinians and beat or arrest them. They yank her away from me, and march her off to the huge paddy wagon. She's protesting all the way down the street, "You can't arrest a 75-year-old. You can't." They let her go and say they're only interested in arresting young people and Israelis.

Click

As the soldiers retreat (and they did), they begin shooting everything they have left at us. A huge tear gas cannister flies over my head, missing me by inches and hits a Palestinian in the leg. He kicks it away so that the gas won't blow back in our faces, then limps to the Red Crescent ambulance to be treated.

Click

The family next door tells us that they can take ten people to sleep the night before the demonstration. The next morning, after the military has turned the village into a closed military zone and blared through loud speakers that all Israelis and internationals must leave, they hide us in one of the rooms. It isn't until the end of the demonstration that we find out they are in the village illegally themselves, and, if we had been found, the entire family would have been sent to prison, even though they are Palestinians and have the right to live in Bil'in but not the paperwork.

Click

The morning of the demonstration, we are all locked down into curfew. We go up on the rooftops and begin to drum on the pipes and heaters that are on every roof in Palestine. We've created our own band, and the noise reverberates through the village as everyone comes up to join. Across the rooftop is a grandmother with a baby in one hand and a pipe in another. She is beating on her heater with all her might, wacking it as hard as she can and smiling at us as we hang two huge banners over the edge of the roof.

End of this roll.

The generosity of spirit is breathtaking. We have been fed to the point of bursting, and we have been humbled by the determination of a people that refuses to go away quietly. We are dirty and dusty and tired, but all of us who participated, from Uri Avnery, the Israeli activist, who turned 82 yesterday, to the youngest child who handed out onions, made a difference.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Index: Current Articles



15 September 2005

Other Articles From This Issue:

Treating the Symptoms Will Not Cure the Disease
N. Corey

We Shall Not Be Challenged
Anthony McIntyre

Riots for 'Recognition'
Brendan O'Neill

Decontamination
Dr John Coulter

Ireland: Nationalists Resist Loyalist Intimidation
Paul Mallon

Facing the Truth About the North
David Adams

Mowlam and the Status Quo
Proinsias O'Loinsaigh

Exports for the North Mean Exploitation for the South
Cedric Gouverneur

Snapshots from Occupied Bil'in
Greta Berlin

'Send in the Clowns!'
Mick Hall

Times Are A-Changing, Part II
Michael Youlton

Along Baltimore City's Peace Path
William Hughes

The Critic and the Clown
Anthony McIntyre


29 August 2005

Historic Censorship Battle Set for High Court
Factotum

Evident Steps Needs Support
Tara LaFreniere

Reading the Tea Leaves
Dr John Coulter

London death shows North policing problems not unique
Eamonn McCann

Mo Mowlam
David Adams

A Snapshot of Gerry Fitt
Fr Sean Mac Manus

The Big Picture in Colombia
Mick Hall

Hypocrisy
Fred A Wilcox

Times Are A-Changing
Michael Youlton

Blame Vulture Capitalism, not God, for Pat Robertson!
William Hughes

Fundamentalist Holyman: The Singing Bigot
Anthony McIntyre

Of Lesser Imps and Demons
Eoghan O’Suilleabhain

No Victory So Sweet
Anthony McIntyre

 

 

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