Same Shit, Different Friday

The Wall outside of Bil'in. "That's not a wall," you say. "That's just a fence!"

Read the sign.

How did we get so close? Read on.

Same shit, different Friday.

The Israelis are trying a new tactic. Instead of standing their soldiers out in front of the fence and exposing them to physical instigation and close-up media scrutiny, they cluster behind the fence, using large concrete barriers to shield themselves from incoming stones thrown and slung-shot at them by the Palestinian youths.

The protesters took the opportunity to march right up to the fence. Here, you can see them trundling one of the gates open.

Remembering lessons learned from previous protests, I tagged along behind a Brazillian cameraman, with his glaring yellow press jacket. I would now be immune to rubber bullets!

Right?

Wrong, motherfucker!

Too many people had begun to cluster around the gate. The Israelis fired a round of rubber bullets into the crowd. Most whizzed by (probably intentionally), but next to me, there was a loud CRACK and a shower of plastic bits. I didn't bother to follow up on this, and ran for the hills together with everyone else.

Later, I found out that the bullet had smoked our cameraman's vidcam. A crowd gathered around him... he was bleeding from one ear. At first, I thought the sound of gunfire had popped his eardrum, but in retrospect, I think that shrapnel from his camera had cut him in the earlobe.

Both man and camera remained functional for the remainder of the protest.

After a brief meeting, the protesters marched off the road to a section of the wall that was more lightly guarded.

There were two Israeli soldiers there, who didn't take kindly to the sudden invasion. More rubber bullets ensued. Here's everyone taking cover behind rocks and trees, and Justin taking a photo of the soldiers behind the fence, not twenty meters away.

It occurred to me afterward that the only person not under cover here was me.

The soldiers behind the fence, pointing out potential troublemakers (read: target). If they point at you, (A) you raise your arms in the air and freeze, (B) drop to the ground and crawl away, or (C) run.

Internationals mostly get away with (A).

After about 20 minutes of this stalemate, the protesters retreated...



... and the stone-slingers advanced. They pelted the Israelis with rocks, who responded with periodic bursts of rubber bullets. Biblical vs. 21st century technology.

Those slingers knew their craft. They were positioned behind a small hillock... low enough to see their targets behind the wall, and to aim and fire with remarkable accuracy... and high enough for them to duck behind when the Israelis returned fire.

A note about this video: Justin and I were the last two whiteys up in front. At one point, we were rushing up to get better photos, and a rubber bullet rippled the grass a meter in front of Justin's running legs.

I won't lie. I was starting to get nervous.

Stone-slingers up close.

The protesters advanced up the road once more, and resurrected the Semetic shouting match, consisting of such conversational gems as: "You are a fag!" and "Your mother is the village whore!"

A tire is casually and jokingly lit on fire, and the Palestinians stage a few shots for the press.

This is the picture that would make the morning paper. You'd almost think it was a real protest.


This is absurd. Here's a Japanese activist (and this one's actually an activist) playing the hero. He's chasing down a tire at the base of the fence, trying to drag it over to our side so that the Palestinians can set it on fire later for another photo-op.

The Israelis fired on him. A bullhorn blared: "Do not touch! DO NOT TOUCH!"

The Jap ignored them, and kept going after the tire, until he finally pulled it back across the fence. The Palestinians cheered and heckled the Israelis mercilessly.

Pointless and childish? I don't know. In a system of total control like a military occupation, any small act of defiance you can throw in the face of your occupier is a victory- whether it's throwing a stone, stealing a tire, or just heckling. It represents a crack in the system of control.

This was fun. A group of Israeli soldiers had snuck across the Wall and hidden behind a Palestinian's house, waiting for the signal to flank the protesters.

The protesters found them first. Check out the following video.



Caught in the act. Poor Israeli kids. They don't know what the fuck to do.

Watch the crowd of press swoop in on the fight side of the screen, as the surrounding protesters bang bottles and chant. The Leader (the guy with the flag) takes the opportunity to scold the Israelis for trespassing.

Face-to-face clash. The soldiers stand around sheepishly, waiting for orders to withdraw. Meanwhile, half the Palestinians try to pick a fight, while the other half hold the first half back and gloatingly tell the Israelis to "Go home! Go home!" The Leader, sensing a camera behind him, launched himself without provocation into the face of the Israeli commander, staging a "confrontation" for the media scrum.


The soldiers are "persuaded" to leave... but frankly, surrounded by righteous indignation and faced with the possibility of a scuffle in which their long-range firepower would be rendered useless, they have no choice.

The Palestinians follow and heckle them all the way back to the wall. On the way, a crowd of kids in the distance hurl rocks at them, and the Israelis opened fire on them.

Howls of mocking laughter and taunts of "Hero! Hero" and "Robin Hood!" ensued.

The soldiers are chased back to the wall. The stalemate resumes.

Three Palestinians decided to use Justin and I as human shields. We decided to let them.

So we stood on top of a rock that added a good meter to our height, allowing us to better shield the Palestinians behind us... arms folded, shooting the shit, while the Palestinians crouched behind us and hurled stones over the fence.

It lasted about a minute before a soldier lost his patience and pointed the barrel of his rifle at the hazy area between Justin's body and mine.

A conversation:

Sean: "So, you realize that we're human shields."

Justin: "Yep! Man up!"

Sean: "I don't want to get shot."

Justin: "You aren't getting shot. They're rubber bullets."

Sean: "What? You ever been hit by a rubber bullet?"

Justin: "No."

Sean: "Me neither, and I don't ever plan to."

*The soldier raised his gun and aimed at us.*

Sean: "You see that-"

Justin: "Yeah, I see it-"

Sean: "Time to go."

Justin: "Yep."

We casually leaped off the rock, just in time for a round of gunfire to split the air.

I love Fridays.