There is so much that's been written about Palestine I don't know what does my own writing contribute, or what does any writing contribute anymore. The truth is being told, the oppressed and occupied people are not voiceless anymore, and behind the lyrical barricades and walls lays a day when words will change nothing anymore, a time to act. I don't know if I anticipate or fear that day. Those who choose to live in false consciousness will ignore this. Those who choose to listen to hasbara lies and the mainstream media will stay oblivious as they are. Walls are not made out of concrete only. Walls exist in people's minds and heart, preventing them from seeing what reality is like.
Al Ma'asara protesters still choose words. As in every week, they go out to speak about human rights, freedom, equality trying to dissolve the IOF human block in front of them. They carry out speeches, preaching and chanting with passion yet the human wall doesn't seem to fall.
"This is the prisoners day, we are protesting for our human rights defenders in the Israeli jails" say the protesters. "The people are rising in Syria, in Guantanmo, and they will rise against you here as well".
The soldiers keep blank faces, holding tight to their shields. They look like thugs, big bullies, and the sight of them make my feet tremble. They might look peaceful now, but I know what they are capable of, and they sure do a great job looking intimidating. Some of us are grinning at us.
A man holds up the blindfold that was used to tie him up when he was arrested and tells the soldiers "I was tied up just as our prisoners were. We all know what this blindfold means".
The soldiers franticly take pictures of us, as if we were an armed brigade of so called terrorists performing dangerous acts.
"If you want action, go to Iran, what are you fighting against here?"
The protesters begin to pound on the soldiers' shields, drumming a samba beat.
"These weapons are illegal, the same guns used to kill our friend Bassem Abu Rahma in Bili'in"
My friend goes out to the soldiers, asking them, "why do you think there are Israelis among us, protesting here?"
My friend says, the soldier said he doesn't know, perhaps we (the Israeli protesters) are crazy. My friend is asking him if what he's doing doesn't seem crazy to him. Marah, a young girl, recites a Mahmoud Darwish poem with passion, to our delight and excitement.
"What about the peace?" asks another protester, standing right in front of the soldiers' shield. "Only two weeks after the holocaust memorial day. must we wait until we have 6 million dead people to have a state of our own?"
The soldiers do not reply. "You are free people, you do not have to comply" the protesters tell them. I am trying to pick up every chanting, every word the protesters say. I hope something does get to them, that doubts about what they do spark in their minds, that after hearing all of this a week after a week they begin to question themselves and their actions. I really want the protesters' words to win. I want human rights discourse to become a weapon of liberation. I want the soldiers to refuse their orders, to drop their weapons, but I am far from being naive or an optimist.
We proceed to Sheih Jarrakh where Nasser Ghawi wipes out words carved on the gate to his stolen home:"Itbah Al Arab" (kill all arabs).
"They are trying to ethnically cleanse us" says Nasser Ghawi. "But we will not leave. We are steadfast. We are resilient ". I picked up a sharp object trying to wipe out the rest of what the settlers wrote on the wall.