The first part here was written about two weeks ago, but I never got it finished. So now it will just have a lot of stuff added on to it. I will try to find a good history and background on Qawawis for people, you'll have to forgive me for now. All my past stuff can be found at www.nwsustain.org/matthew_in_palestine.htm

Sorry to dump so much stuff all at once, kind of a short novel at this point... Please check out the B'tselem stuff at the end (well, almost the end) even if you read nothing else.

Hello Everyone,
Sorry to have not written for so long. I hope that everything is well for all of you. I have spent the last week in Qawasis and Hebron, not much net access.

Qawasis is a small village in the south of the West Bank, near Yatta. It only has about 60 people when it is full and probably only 20 are living there currently. In Qawasis most of the people live in caves, there is one three room house that an old shephard and his wife share with the internationals who stay in the village. Most of the villagers are shephards. The sheep and goats live in caves to. It is right out of the story of Ulysses and the cyclops. Unfortunately for Qawasis it is near the settlement of Sussia (sp?) (illegal under international law) and two outposts (illegal even under Israeli law). The villagers were forced to abandon the village about a year and half ago by the IDF. They recently won a court ruling allowing them to move back.

I stayed in Qawasis for five days, starting on Thursday the 18 of March. The villagers are very friendly and we live in the one house that the village has. Very simple, a concrete structure with a couple of windows. Two bedrooms and a room in the middle for cooking and tea. Cooking is done on an iron plate (to not burn the floor, I think) using wood gathered from around the village, no gas, just an open fire. The food is quite good. It gets very cold at night though. Luckily we have plenty of blankets and foam mattresses.

The village does not have electricity, that is their next project. Currently they are forbidden electricity by Israeli government, they are suing to be allowed electricity, either a generator or to be hooked up to the electric lines which run over their land to serve the illegal outposts that have been built on their land. The lines run about 100 meters from the village. There is no running water, just a well from which water is drawn by hand. To get to the village you must use a dirt path from the village of Carmel, about a mile away. A settler road, very nice, runs about 100 meters from the village, but Palestinians are not allowed to use it. There is a dirt road that leads from a hole in the gaurdrail to Qawasis. (update, rumor has it that they have won the electricity fight and will install a generator in a couple of weeks. Still not allowed to tap into the electrical lines that run accross their land to serve the illegal outposts.)

Despite being illegal even under Israeli law the outposts near the village have electricity and I would assume running water. The outposts consist of about six trailers sorrounded by a barbed wire fence. At night giant lights are used to light up the area around them. The outpost is reached by a nice asphalt road that runs from the settler road up to it. It is serviced by about four buses a day. I never see more than a couple of people on each bus, but nonetheless the state pays for buses to visit the illegal outpost about 4 times a day. The outposts are also visited by a garbage truck, or at least they were on Thursday. Truly absurd watching a municipal type garbage truck drive up to the outpost.

Friday was my first confrontation with a settler. I was out with the shepherds while they took the sheep out to graze. A settler who was driving up to the outpost closest to the village stopped his car and started walking toward the shephard and I. I walked over and tried to speak with him but he ignored me and headed straight for the sheep. He was yelling at them, trying to scare them. When he got close enough he kicked a sheep. Then he went and kicked another sheep. At this point the old shephard and a younger shephard got in this way to stop him from kicking any more sheep. They started shoving each other and yelling at each other. The settler spoke arabic, so I don't know everything that was said. After giving the old shephard (approx 65) a really hard shove and almost knocking him down the settler went back to his car to make some phone calls.

My fellow internationals finally arrived on the scene and we phoned the police and the army. After a few minutes the settler got out of his car and approached us again yelling at the shephards and us. The internationals prevented the settler from reaching the shephards by standing in his path and not letting him push through us. He yelled at me "Deer Ballak", which is "be careful" in arabic and what I think was "I'll kill you" in arabic. After shoving us a little he went back to his car and made some more phone calls. Nothing more happened until the police, some more settlers, and the army arrived more or less at the same time.

The police and army talked to the settler and then with us. The settlers claim that the villagers aren't allowed to graze on the land near the road leading up to their outpost. The village has court orders saying that it is allowed to graze on the land. The army and police explained to us that the Israeli courts did not understand the local situation and so they should be ignored. They asked us to tell the shephards not to graze near the road leading to the outpost. We asked the army where the line up to which the shephards were allowed to graze. The army said that they didn't know and that it was up to the courts to decide.

We asked if we could file a police report. We were told that to file a police report one must go to Kiryat Arba, a hard right wing settlement near Hebron. This takes about an hour and a half each way using services. Another international and myself went to the Police station in Kiryat Arba on Monday. We were told that they were too busy to take crime reports, but that we could come back the next day at 11:30 and they would be happy take a report.

We showed up the next day, this time to the proper gate, last time we went to the front gate, turns out that the police station is at the back gate. While walking up to the gate we run into another international we know and chat. Turns out he just gave a different crime report. We arrived for our appointment at 10:30. Walk up a steep hill to the Police station, big iron gate across the road. Off to one side there is a phone in metal grated box, reach through the gate and try to call the listed numbers. Good thing I have small hands, mine would barely fit through the grate to reach the phone, a big guy would just be out of luck.There is a Palestinian man waiting on the curb when we arrive. After calling the four numbers listed about 20 times somebody finally answered. Told to wait a few minutes and someone will be with us. An hour passes. Luckily they have planned for such things, on the inside of the gate is a water fountain whose button you can reach. It sprays a stream of water through the iron gate and you can have a drink.

At 11:30 a policeman comes to the gate. He tells the Palestinian guy to come in. Searches him. A few minutes pass. The Palestinian comes out. We ask the policeman about our appointment. He tells us to wait. An hour passes. We call again, told to wait, they are busy. Another hour passes, we call again. Each time we get through to someone has taken between ten and twenty times of the phone not being answered. Told that they are too busy to take crime reports today, but that if we would leave our phone numbers they would be happy set up a time to take our reports. We ask if we could fill out this report at any other station, negative. We give our numbers. Three weeks later neither of us have ever recieved a call. They seemed pretty busy that day, took one crime report and may and or not or have done anything for the Palestinian guy, he sure wasn't in there very long. Pretty busy day.

"I've Seen This Movie Before"

Saturday arrived. Saturday is usually a day of heavy settler trouble. I assume that this is because they all have the day off work. It began just like any other day, breakfast and then out to accompany the shephards. About 10 A.M. an adult settler, about 30, accompanied by eight children between the ages of maybe 6 and 14 were spotted approaching from the outpost. We went over to speak with them, they were relatively friendly, said that they were just out on a Saturday walk. The continued walking until they were closer to the shepherds when the children begin to call out "dirty arab" in Hebrew and imitating the sounds the shepherds use when they heard the sheep. They were trying to scare the sheep and make fun of the shepherds. Both the shepherds and the internationals asked them to leave. Eventually they left and went into the village.
Once in the village it was really more of the same. Calling out "dirty arab" and "donkey woman" at the villagers while they walked around and laughed at the terrified villagers. Eventually they left and started to walk back to the outpost. Along the way the man stopped to try to drive the sheep of one of the shephards off the hill where he was grazing. Another person and myself tried to get in his way and talk to him. No effect. He just told us to go back to our country and that there is plenty of land in Saudi Arabia for the Palestinians to move to. This land was given to the Jews by God. Finally I suggested that we call the police and have the matter of the sheep grazing here sorted out. He promptly left and went back to the outpost with the children.
While this was going on another of our activists spoke with the oldest girl among the children, she was about 14. He asked her if she knew it was wrong to go into a village and make fun of people like they did. She said that she knew it was wrong, but that she could not control the children. He said that she seemed to embarrassed by the incident.
I cannot understand how incidents like this are allowed to go on, especially by Jewish people. I think that I've heard before of people going to certain neighborhoods and shouting "dirty X" and such. Some things just have to seem too much like a really bad movie that we all seen before to watch it again. How do you take your children out on a Saturday hate walk?

"A Game of Clue"
Monday morning we were awakened by the villagers telling us that a service had been detained by road and they would like us to see what was going on. Two other activists left a couple of minutes before I did, so they reached the service before me. I waited about 50meters away and watched the goings on. They later told me what the soldiers said to them.
When L and J approached the service and the soldiers (maybe police, it has been a couple of weeks and I don't remember exactly) they asked what was going on. The soldiers told them, "See this blood, this is arab blood, this is a Police scene, get away, you can talk to them when we're done here". L watched from about 20 meters away and J walked to a nearby town. The soldiers took the Palestinians and searched them one by one, they forced the others to squat by the side of the road. This took about 45 minutes. Finally the soldiers forced the Palestinians to make a pile of stones by the side of the road. I thought that this was very strange. Then service left with all of the Palestinians, there were no arrests. A few minutes later the soldiers left.
I went up to see what had happened. There was a pool of blood by the side of the road. When I and L started to remove the stones from the pile they had been placed in we found the body of a still warm dead antelope with it's throat cut. Next to the pile of stones was the murder weapon, a bloody butter knife.
We went back to the village to tell them what we saw. We met a local shepherd and tried to explain what happened. We were joined by J while trying to explain. J and the shepherd went to the scene to have a look. When they approached the dead antelope a jeep quickly drove up from the hillside where it had been parked, watching us, and told them to go away. They said that the antelope was from some Palestinian poachers they had captured.
Two different stories, one dead antelope (which happened to full of arab blood according to the first soldiers). The answer in this game of clue seems to be... The Palestinian killed the arab gazelle in the service with the butter knife along the side of the road.
Many unanswered questions.

"Terrified Settlers"
I was there that day, but am too tired to write everything up. Here is a really good account of what happened. The settlers are always telling us how much the Palestinians terrify them, perhaps that is why they come to the village so often.


2. Qawawis by Flo

March 31, 2005

Last Friday I went down to a village called Qawawis, located in the south Hebron hills. Qawawis is a village of caves with one standing house and a few tents dotted throughout the hillsides. The people of this village say the caves were built by their great grandfathers and they have been living there since. Four years ago, the residents of Qawawis abandoned their village in fear of the settlers living the settlement and two outposts on the surrounding hillsides.

One year before, the residents won a court battle stating that they had a right to live there and graze their sheep. Since one month, the people of Qawawis have been returned to their land living amongst the one settlement, two outposts and military base. Daily now,the settlers confront the people in Qawawis, using violence, threats and carrying guns.

Since returning to their village, the residents have asked for a presence from the ISM because of these daily attacks. The area is isolated and the families have no protection from the settlers as the military and police in the area are there to protect the settlers. Many of the police are actually residents of the nearby settlement. Without outside eyes, this situation occurs in a
vacuum.

I went to stay in Qawawis because the ISM internationals that had been present and one of the shepherds were attacked and beaten by the settlers two days before and had been arrested while trying to file a report of these attacks.

Arriving in Qawawis close to sunset, it struck me as so much does in this land, of the juxtaposition of the heaven and hell that exists here. The green rolling hills stretch as far as the eye can see, the overwhelming sound of silence broken only by the wind and songs of the birds. It could have been the most peaceful place on earth if not for the settler road carved into the land and the settlement and two outposts ringing the valley. These things reminded me of the looming threat that exists and the reason for my being there. With that, the heaven turned to hell, the fear began.

In order to reach the cluster of caves that is Qawawis, we had to climb over the guardrail of the settler road, cross the road and over another guardrail. My fear began immediately. I went there knowing of the attack days before, knowing of the anger the settlers have for these shepherds and the internationals who have come to be with them and how this anger manifests. I did not know at this time, from where the settlers would come if they choose to do so and thought that at any moment they could show up, irate at our reasons for being there and try to punish us.

In the distance, I could see a soccer game and hear the laughter of the boys involved. Shepherds were walking with there sheep along the outskirts of what I would come to know as Qawawis. Everyone stopped and stared at these strange foreigners walking towards them. When they realized we were friendly, some of the children ran out to greet us, asking 'what's your name?', as seems the formal greeting from Palestinian children to foreigners. We were welcomed.

After a small tour of the village, which because of the caves looks only to be one house in the midst of open land, we were taken to one of the shepherds amongst the olive trees. The day had been quite, whether it was due to the fact that it was Friday, the first day of the Jewish Sabbath, or for other reasons, we didn't know. At one point in the day though, a group of 12 or so settler cars had come from the outpost nearest to Qawawis and stopped near to where the shepherds were grazing their flocks. Since the attack on the internationals, the police,for some reason, have been more helpful. When the settlers' cars stopped on the hill overlooking the shepherds, the police were called. When they arrived they made the settlers return to their homes, helping to diffuse that situation.

That day, we were able to enjoy the peace, meet the people and eat. There is no electricity in Qawawis, so after spending most nights up until 3am and waking up at 8am, at 7pm in the Qawawis darkness, I was ready for sleep. Instead of sleep though, we all sat in the candle lit night and communicated as well as our broken Arabic and their sparse English would permit. This limited common language actually allowed for some good discussions though. We spoke about the history of the village, the family connections, and our feelings as internationals in this land of illusion. The full moon backed us up as we spoke into the night.

We were staying in the lone house of Qawawis sharing the room of the patriarch of the family. He was the first shepherd we had met upon entering the village, and spoke in his sleep with the same language we had heard him talking to the sheep. At sunrise the next morning, the mother and father of the house were up at dawn, saying their prayers, setting the fire and waking up the rest of us. The night before I had been told that the mother of the house would bang a hammer against the outer steel door in order to wake everyone up for breakfast. I though it was a joke until at 6am in the morning, through my sleep hazed eyes I watched as she did just that; took a hammer to the steel door, banging out our wake up call. We obeyed the call of the hammer and rose to a fire in the foyer on which the women were making their bread for the day.

One of the neighbouring shepherds summoned us to a clearing outside his cave dwelling and offered us breakfast. I came to realize later that each household took responsibility for feeding us on alternating days. This day it was Mohammed, who would periodically come to check the progress we were making on our breakfast and yell at us if he thought we were not eating enough.

After breakfast, the village set to work for the day. The old women would fill a large stomach with goat's milk, set the stomach up on a tripod, and rock it back and forth until the milk turned to yogurt. It was like watching a baby being swung back and forth in a cradle, and produced a beautiful calming sound like waves upon the shore. This day, they forced one of the internationals to bath and give up his clothes for cleaning. In the mean time, they lent him clothes that gave him the appearance of a Mormon going door to door to spread the Word. And then we went out with the sheep.

I've walked with sheep quite a lot in my life. It is always such a peaceful time, wandering through the hills surrounded by the sound of the sheep grazing, which is actually quite loud—a bit like the sound of a small motor running. So the morning went like this; peaceful wanderings with the sheep, sitting amongst the blooming wildflowers, feeling that I was on a vacation from the hell of checkpoints, and the horror of the daily destruction for Israel's wall.

At 11am we headed back to the village for lunch and a few hours reprieve from the already scorching sun. Everyone found spots in the shade to rest and talk away the hours until it was cool enough to go out for the flock's dinner. I forgot the situation I was in and was able to actually sleep for a bit. Twenty minutes into my nap though, one of the other internationals burst into the room where I was hiding for my nap and yelled, 'mostoutan' (settler).

We went to the front of the house to see four young settler boys walking towards us across the valley. Most of the village from young to old were already out there and called to us to join them, pointing out the four boys in white shirts and tan pants, one with an Israeli military issue gun slung over his shoulder. The boys stopped 50 yards from us. One of them sat on the rocks and all four just looked. They started back in the direction they had come, changed their minds and walked through the village land into a grove of trees. We watched them across the hillside as they took a rest under one of the village's almond trees. There was a shepherd out with his flock near to the grove that we worried would get harassed by these boys. It was the same shepherd that had been attacked two days before.

Twenty minutes later, as we continued to watch the trees to which the boys had disappeared, thinking that perhaps they had left without our notice, we saw coming from the same direction, a larger group of boys with the same white shirts and tan pants. This time it was ten settler boys approaching us. The group walked directly towards us, entering into the yard of the house. When I asked one of them what they were doing, he replied that they were on their Sabbath walk, taking a tour of the village that they had been run out of by the Palestinians.

The boys, many with the same Israeli military issue guns on their backs, walked into the village. The people of Qawawis seemed quite intimidated by these young men, and asked us to tell them to leave. The boy I spoke with, an Israeli-American from Sioux City, Iowa, told me of how the original inhabitants of Qawawis had voluntarily left four years ago because they desired the more comfortable conditions of the nearby city. He said after the people had left, the Jewish residents of the settlement had taken over Qawawis and improved it by building new walls around the caves, and that the people of Qawawis only wanted to move back when an Israeli from a peace group incited them to return and force the Jews out.

When I asked him if he thought he intimidated the people by coming into their village with guns, he replied that my camera was a much more dangerous and frightening weapon. I told him that the people of Qawawis had a much different story then his, that they told stories of leaving their village out of fear of the settlers. He responded that he has been living in this settlement for three years now, and that no one would lie to him about the history of this place. The boys sat on one of the stone walls of the village and refused to leave.

Eventually, the police came. Joking and laughing with the settler youth, the police brought them away from the wall and spoke with them in private. At this point, the day seemed to turn into a circus. The police convinced the settlers to leave. I approached the police to ask them what they thought of the situation, to which they responded it was not their job to think, only to follow orders. When I asked if it was within their orders to give these settler boys a good spanking, they said it was not. We noticed that the boys had left the village but had moved up one of the hillsides and were approaching a shepherd there. As the police left the scene, an Israeli military hummer came up into the village and parked in the opening. They did not exit their vehicle, and no one around paid any attention to them. After some time of them sitting there, we approached to ask them what they were doing. They said they were only watching us. Again to the question of what they thought of this situation, they replied that it was not their job to think, only follow orders. Almost word for word the same as the police officer. In all my time talking with Israeli soldiers in Palestine, I have never encountered this response as many times as I did that day.

Then the soldier party started. One by one, Israeli military jeeps came up into the village until there were four jeeps, a hummer and one private security truck, numbering at least 22 armed men (some with multiple weapons). It seems that they came because of a tent that we had constructed earlier in the day. The tent, located at the top of the village, was to be the home of the internationals. It seemed to make the military very nervous. They ordered the tent removed and then watched as we deconstructed it.

Discussion erupted between the men of the village and the highest up in the military about the village's right to raise a tent on their land. A new military jeep showed up with a multi-starred officer. He joined the discussion. Coming from the settler road we could see a friend approaching in his truck. He made a rock star entrance, pulling up in front of the mess of jeeps and screeching to a halt. Three doors of his extended cab flew open from which each emerged a journalist armed with his own professional foot-long zoom lens camera, our friend emerging out the driver's side door, cowboy hat upon his head. At this sight, the soldiers immediately retreated to their respected vehicles and sped out of the village. The party was over.

The village returned to its quiet nature, as if nothing had happened. Dinner was served, conversations were had under the stars. The peace returned. One of the young men joked that the settlers would return in the night and slit all of our throats. Seeing our discomfort with this thought, one of the women told us not to worry, she would lock the door when we retired to sleep.

The next morning the same routine began the day; Haji banging on the door with her hammer to wake the house, no one suffering a slit throat, and breakfast being served by Halil in the next cave down. And then with the sheep.

This day started peaceful as the day before, but the shepherds were nervous seeing a settler grazing his sheep on the hillside opposite us. In the area of Qawawis where I stayed, there were four brothers that made up the leadership.

Each brother had their own flock of sheep. Each day it seemed, they would keep their flocks close to the village, grazing on land that seemed would run out of food for the sheep soon. The shepherds had been told that this was the land they were able to use, and any wandering outside that area would result in trouble.

The brothers continuously pointed out the settler shepherd across from us, watching for some sort of trouble. Soon enough, the trouble came. The man with his flock crossed the settler road and headed his sheep directly at us amongst the village olive grove. There were two young men, both with cloth tied around their faces, with the shepherd.

One of the internationals approached the men, extended a hand in greeting and asked why they were there. His hand was not accepted. A settler on a horse approached us and headed directly into the village. As there were only women in the village, the shepherds of Qawawis became worried as to what that man was doing and asked two of the internationals to go down into the village to monitor the situation. The other two stayed in the grove with the shepherds and the settlers.

One of the masked men approached the Qawawis shepherd and began to tell him in fluent Arabic that he was a bad man for being there. This eighteen year old boy from the outpost treated this elderly shepherd as if he were a child, telling him what he could do and where he could go, calling myself and another international woman 'bitches' and demanding to know where we had come from and why we were there. He told the shepherd that he could not graze his sheep in this olive grove that belonged to Qawawis, and if he continued to disobey, this young man would cause the old man problems. Then the police arrived.

Later, the internationals in the village monitoring the man on the horse, reported that the man told them they were living with murderers. That he refused to speak with them because of this. The police kept asking what the problem was, did any of the settlers use violence, as if it weren't a problem because they hadn't. We refused to go with them to file a report seeing as how the last internationals that had gone to report an attack on them had been arrested.

The settlers left, the police left, and we went to lunch. Another day in Qawawis.

I left Qawawis after that, hitching a ride into town on the back of a wagon being pulled by a tractor. It was time for me to return to the reality of cell phones that get reception, demonstrations that are happening on a daily basis against the wall, tear gas, soldiers that have an (usually Zionist) opinion about the situation and my friends in the north.

In order to return to that reality though, we first had to travel through the city of Hebron, another step in the ladder to hell leaned against the wall of life here.

That is a story for another day though….

For pictures from Qawawis see: walkfree.blog.com/album/47875/

*********

April 11,
We missed this protest, but here is an article from Haaretz on what it is about
www.haaretz.com/hasen/spages/563634.html

More Checkpoint Stories
When leaving Nablus to go to the above protest we were stopped at the checkpoint and told it was illegal for us to be in Nablus without a permit. We had entered the day before by walking through Huwarra checkpoint without even showing ID. I think that the presence of Machsom Watch (Checkpoint Watch, an Israeli group that monitors soldier behaviour at checkpoints) must have had them on their best behavior. Kind of funny that they didn't even ask us for our passports when we walked through.
To get back into Nablus we were worried that we might have trouble so we hired a tractor with a wagon to drive us around the checkpoint. Very simple. Obviously if you were really a terrorist you wouldn't go through the checkpoint. You would just hire the tractor.


April 12th.

Today we met with some local villages to discuss having demonstrations against the expansion of a military base in a settlement which we be taking even more of their land. They are quite worried. They tell us that the last time they had a demonstration, three years ago, the army began to shoot as soon as they came into view. Four people from the village are paralyzed as result of this demo, four more were seriously injured but survived, and 20some were injured in total that day.
I hear this alot from Palestinians, they are afraid of demonstrations because of army violence. Perhaps this is why this intifada is so much less popular resistance and so much more military than the first one. I think that this might be true. Pro Israel people often argue that the violence was a Palestinian choice and that Arafat ordered the intifada after spending the previous seven years building up the Palestinian arsenal. They claim that Palestinians never wanted peace. Here are some statistics on the number of dead during the first three months of this intifada. A total of four Israeli's died with Israel in the first three months of this intifada. Seems really unlikely to be a planned Palestinian terror offensive. It looks more like Israel wanted to avoid a repeat of the first intifada so they ramped up the level of violence to prevent popular participation.
Group Number killed in OPT Number of Minors (under 18) Within Israel (total)
Palestinians 272 83 1
Israeli Civilians 18 0 4
Israeli Military 19 0

www.btselem.org/english/Statistics/Casualties.asp
This where the info comes from. B'tselem is a respected Israeli human rights group.

Here is the same info more or less for the first intifada.
www.btselem.org/english/Statistics/First_Intifada_Tables.asp




"Settler Roads"
You can read a good report on the road system in Palestine here. I know that it is confusing to call something a settler road or that I say Palestinians cannot use certain roads. As the report below explains, this is not generally true by law, just true in fact. Israel tries to avoid making anything "illegal" if it would like apartheid, it just tries to accomplish it in fact. The report below is very informative and provides a much more detailed explanation than I can.

www.btselem.org/English/Publications/Summaries/200408_Forbidden_Roads.asp

I have been to many demonstrations with Jonathan, a great man (all of about 22)...

2. Update on Jonathan Pollack
April 5, 2005

Jonathan Pollack, an Israeli activist, was released from Tel
Hashomer hospital in Tel Aviv today after being struck in the head
by a tear gas canister at a demonstration against the Wall in Bil'in
on April 3. Jonathan has several stitches and two small hemorrhages
in his brain. He is conscious. However, he cannot sit or stand up
due to dizziness.


I missed this, but it was a great action...

3. Volleyball Against the Occupation

The Popular Committee Against the Wall and the local sports society of
Bil'in organized a night time volleyball tournament against the
occupation yesterday.

After four nights in a row of the Israel military entering the village
between the hours of 11 pm and 3am, searching homes, arresting young
men and photographing the rest, residents of the village decided to
creatively resist. The night time volleyball game, organized to begin
at 11pm, was a way for the village to show the military that they are
not scared of these night time raids.

At 9pm, Bil'in residents, internationals with the ISM and CCIPPP, and
Israeli Anarchists against the Wall, began to gather at the local
school where the game was to commence.

Construction of the Wall near Bil'in and the creation of the new
settlement Menura in the same area is resulting in the loss of more
then half of Bil'in's land. The heavy machinery working on the Wall
and the soldiers that guard the area could be seen operating until
well past 10pm, as the games were beginning.

At 9pm folks gathered in the school playground, in order to warm up
for the actual event. Simultaneous games of volleyball and basketball
over lapped on the field. At 11pm, teams were picked and rules set.
Israelis and internationals, helped out by a few local boys, played
against teams made up solely of residents of Bil'in. At the end of
every match, although some Israelis disagreed, the score came out in
favor of international/Israeli team, as determined by the Popular
Committee.

At 12.30am, news came that the soldiers were on their way into the
village. The already established teams were split up into emergency
response groups in case the soldiers began searching or occupying
homes. In the meantime, the games continued.

Over the still protesting voices of some of the Israelis who felt the
scoring of the games were erroneous, the Popular Committee and local
Sports Club awarded the tournament trophy to the internationals.

Dancing and singing ensued.

New phone calls came in that the soldiers were indeed in the village
and had begun throwing sound grenades. The first response team was
sent out to check on the situation leaving the rest behind to continue
the pick-up game of basketball that had begun.

The response team arrived at the sight of where the soldiers were
reported to be inside a home. The team began a rousing rendition of
`the International' and other historic resistance songs in the street
outside the home. Their tactic seemed to work as the soldiers then
vacated the village and the response team was able to return to finish
the pick-up game.

At 3am with no more attempts from the military to enter the village,
the tournament was ended.

Everyone involved felt the event was a success in raising morale,
keeping the soldiers from being able to rule through fear, and in
order to simply enjoy life in the face of the occupation and all of
its manifestations.

Israeli soldiers fired tear gas canisters into the crowd at the
protest on April 3, even though the tear gas canisters are intended
to be shot into the air and not directly at people.