Exiled

On Sunday around 1030 I was detained by Israeli authorities for five hours at the police station at the illegal Qedumim settlement in town of Kufr Kudum north of Nablus on charges of being in a closed military zone and interfering with police work. If you would have asked me at the time where I would be right now there is a definite possibility that I would have told you waiting for my deportation to be processed, though instead I am sitting on a corner in the immigrant neighborhood of Tel Aviv trying to steal someone's internet on the computer of one of my fellow arrestees.
These past few days have been some of my more confusing and unexpected, though I will try and sort them out in the name of the travel blog gods.
At around ten o'clock Sunday morning I was beginning to settle into another day of olive picking in Kufr Kudum, thankfully drinking a morning cup of tea while assessing the work load when in a strange combination of Hebrew Arabic and broken English I was informed that there were troubles with the army in an olive grove just above where I was picking. Accompanied by some fellow internationals and a few Israeli activists I, if somewhat hesitantly at first, grabbed my video camera and headed up the steep incline. There we were met by more than a handful of soldiers accompanied by, of course not in defense against, a group of male settlers. The situation escalated in a manner as fast as the circumstances would demand them to and soon there was a pushing war going on between the Palestinians joined by us and the army joined by the settlers that found two petrified donkeys trapped in the middle. I can safely say that I have never in my existence been in a situation fueled by so much rage, the justified rage of the two old Palestinian men who were, for the second time in two days being forced off their own land, just as they have been for years, and also the rage of the settlers, which I can only explain as true hatred, hatred which I can also safely say I have never in my life witnessed in such an intensity. The words of the younger settlers, though wrong and hurtful were nothing in comparison to this one older settler, who stared at the Palestinians and us with such a hateful intensity that it is the only time during my filming that I lost control of my shaky hands, it was another one of those moments when my paradigm was suddenly refocused, everything made real.

The army and settlers managed to push the family and us internationals down below where the trees were, though not without pushing the two old men and their sons and us the whole way down. As soon as I stopped recording my shaking promptly returned, if only fueling off of the anger of the family.

We all stood waiting at the bottom of the groves as the settlers yelled at us and inspected what they referred to as "their land", for the District coordinator office officials to arrive and show us the actual warrant for a closed military zone. The DCO, is a system that basically runs a permit system for Palestinians to go to their own land, even though under international law, as an occupying force they MUST provide protection. As we waited I showed the video I was able to get to the family and tried to get some details written down for a press release later. Suddenly it was not the DCO that showed up but instead the Israeli police. An older activist approached the cop and tried to reason with him, explaining that the family we were with was promised to be able to go to the land and that if they waited any longer there would simply be no harvest left. The cop took no interest in anything we had to say and instead told us that we had two minutes to vacate or he would arrest everyone. Myself and a few other backed off seeing as we were filming, but a young french activist decided that she was not going to leave quietly. She asked that the officer stop speaking in such a violent tone and took some time to walk down the slope we were on, though apparently her retreat came to late because the officer grabbed her by the hair and threw her on the ground. The next five minutes were a confusing mixture of screams and pleas, the Palestinians were backed off by soldiers as the two french girls were thrown to the ground repeatedly. Before I knew what I was doing I had thrown myself on top of one of the French activist who was crying on the ground in an attempt to de arrest her or simply stop the soldier from hurting her. I felt that I was not going to be the target for the arrest and simply could not stand and watch the french girls get carried away. Though the police commander was quickly fed up with my efforts and before I knew it he had grabbed my bag to drag me by my neck back towards the settlement. After some fight and the loss of my shoe I was being carried towards the settlement where two cop cars were waiting, they had clearly come looking for arrests and we had conveniently provided them. Hearing my screams the incredibly brave Israeli woman activist had come running back to the scene that she had been walking away from and basically got arrested in order to sit in solidarity with me, an act that, as it will come to light, I will forever be grateful for.
Once in the police station I was searched, screamed at and identified, and though it would have been wise for me to then be scared I was for some reason feeling as confident as ever, with my video tape stuffed in my underwear and our lawyer on the phone I felt strangely calm. What followed was four hours of a confusing interrogation/intimidation. I was offered within an hour an agreement in which I would sign agreeing to leave the country within five days, terms I was absolutely positive I would not sign, an act that quickly showed the police officers that my story of being a tourist may not have overwhelming validity, seeing as the alternative was going to jail until wednesday and waiting for a deportation trial. The french girls were not quite so ready to deny the terms, near the end of their stay and from a very different organization they were in no way ready to go to jail, and the police used this against me. two hours into my stay I was told that whatever I did, in terms of signing, the french girls would also have to do, that I was effectively deciding all of our fates. That calmness quickly faded at this point, I may have been ready to play hard ball in terms of my own future but not with two virtual strangers'. Luckily the Israeli activist was able to play the role of the UN and translated everything between the three camps involved and assured me that the choice was still my own and that if I felt I simply could not sign an agreement that I in no way had to and, much more importantly, that she would do the same, promising that we could go to jail together. After a few more hours of saying no, filled with persuassion from all parties with the exception of Yfat, my Israeli friend, I was able, by the skin of my teeth convince the officers that there was no way I was going to sign, and it was at that point that the officer, who had refused to speak english finally offered to me, in english, an agreement where I would stay out of the territories for fifteen days, broken down, and admittedly a little scared, I finally agreed. when me and Yfat were brought in to sign our agreements the officer, finally in a display of humanism complemented her on her unwavering support of me and she simply responded that as women, its our natural inclination to stand together.
I have now been in Tel Aviv staying with Yfat for four nights, resting and coming to terms with being on the other side of the green line. On Tuesday I went to an anrachists against the wall fundraiser with a group of ISMers who came out from the West Bank and was able to meet a lot of Israeli activists, a group that I have overwhelming respect for, both because of my experience and because of the realization that in their choice to not deny what their government is doing, they have virtually committed their lives to the struggle. As internationals we can only stay for short periods but for an Israeli activist they never leave, their life, their existance, is constantly in this strange rejection limbo. Yfat has explained to me how easy it is to live in Tel Aviv or anywhere else in Israel and remain completely oblivious to the human rights violations occuring only kilometers to the east, a fact that we both agreed is not an excuse, but still a reality, people are still trying to live with a semblance of a normal life, as warped as that may seem to an activist such as myself. As much as I have accepted these realities, I still am not happy to be here, mainly because it was not my choice, though also because randomly I will walk past a store selling kuffiyas next to IDF sweatshirts and feel an overwhelming urge to hurl on the street. I have gone to the beach, enjoyed a western style coffee shop experience, which I admittedly deeply needed, and read a good amount of my book, but definitely feel that I will be leaving here soon. There are plenty of things I can do from this side for ISM, or so I am told, particularly in Jerusalem.
When I think about what happened sunday I definitely feel that it was all for nothing at some points, though many have assured me that my refusal was an important act in terms of international activists, that by not signing I showed as many ISMers have done before, that we will not just leave the country at the first sign we may go to jail, though in terms of the struggle, as in most actions, there is always a question as to whether my actions made any difference, which they most likely did not. The farmers in Kufr Kudum were not allowed to harvest the next day due to the violence on the other side of the hill and the police intervention on our side, but most likely that would have been the case anyway. I really think the lesson I am most grateful to take away is that of real solidarity, the way in which Yfat stood up for me based solely on the fact that I stood by her and the Palestinians when the army forced them off the land was an act that reflected the epitome of solidarity and I am more prepared now to do the same for any Palestinian or international I meet who is here to reject this illegal occupation.