Nonviolence: Intifada of the Fence

Nonviolent resistance to the fence continues in Palestine. Israelis and Palestinians work together using nonviolent techniques. From Ha'aretz: Picking their battles by Aviv Lavie

Quote:

"It's become an almost daily routine. Every morning the residents of villages located on the planned route of the separation fence - from Elkana in Samaria to the outskirts of Jerusalem - wake up to the harsh metallic noise of the bulldozers. In the early morning hours the heavy machinery rumbles into the area, surrounded by security guards and army and Border Police troops. The villagers go out to their land in full force: men and women, young and old alike. They position themselves opposite the soldiers, wave flags, sing and try to get to the giant machines or sit down on the ground in an attempt to block them. And then what? Only God knows.

"Some speak of December 26, 2003 as the turning point. That was the day on which an Israeli demonstrating against the fence, Gil Na'amati, was shot and wounded by Israeli soldiers at the village of Maskha, in Samaria. "What happened at Mes'ha, and the noise it created, shook up the Palestinians," says an Israeli who took part in some demonstrations. "They understood that they had to organize for a struggle against the fence and that the struggle could have an impact." Some of the interviewees term this uprising, which involves a civilian population of all ages, the "intifada of the fence," as distinct from the more familiar one of the terrorist organizations, the attacks and the armed fighters. "

Thanks to Aron's Israel Weblog for the link.

Comments

[greg skidmore]

She was Lebanese. Her family owned the biggest supermarket chain in Houston. Her name was Raven. She married a farmer’s son she met at college bar. He looked more Arabic than she, with a prominent hooked beak and long flowing hair. Raven was raised as a princess in a very wealthy family. She knew nothing of work, domestic chores or want of money. The family disowned her for marrying the infidel. She went from princess to trailer trash in the span of a wedding day. The boy took what work her could find, mostly driving trucks or operating machinery. She spent her days in the trailer with the TV. We could see the trailer from our commune. We often invited them over. She only knew haw to cook one item, lentils. The Lebanese call it Mjaddarah; we called it ‘mud.’ It was a basic but excellent dish of caramelized onion, lentils and basmati rice, a staple of the Middle East and southern Asia. I like it best without the rice. She taught all the hippie girls how to make it. May favorite way of eating the ‘mud’ was to ladle it onto fresh baked bread slathered with butter and shovel it in open faced. It was the best of the vegetarian goop forced upon us by our well-meaning chicks. They got caught up in the confusion of the times and the marriage unraveled, she returned to her princess throne in Houston. The husband built a sailboat and set out to sea.