Journal, March 16, 2006—Ramallah Rally—Stop the Attack on the Jericho Prison

For photos, about the Ramallah rally

Other photos and writing

Driving back from Hebron on Monday with Sonia and Tracy, I think it was then that I first heard about a confrontation in Jericho over a prison and certain prisoners. Apparently two men, Ahmed Saadat and Ahad Abu Ghulmi, were being held for the assassination of an Israeli minister some few years ago, held by the Palestinian Authority but monitored by US and British guards. Somehow the monitors decided to leave—alleging the PA was not protecting them—and soon after, within minutes or so, the Israeli army entered the area and began demolishing parts of the prison to force the prisoners to surrender.

Ramallah folks held rallies on Tues. evening, shouting, and so I reluctantly decided to stay home and not risk an assault by folks who might pick me out as the hated American. I’d noticed shops were mostly closed, a traditional Palestinian expression of outrage or mourning, they call it a strike.

Next morning, yesterday, calm seemed to have settled over Ramallah. I did some computer work at Palsoft until about noon, when I heard out the fifth floor window some shouting and chanting. Looking out, I noticed a small group, maybe 80 or so, of relatively young people. Confirming my suspicion that this was about the Jericho prison affair, I asked who was organizing the rally, who were these young people in the lead?

The Friends’ School.

I quickly finished my work, packed up, and raced downstairs to join. By then, some 15 minutes later, the crowd had swelled to perhaps 800, all ages, carrying a variety of flags, led initially by the rfs hi school group, but splintering off into segments and to some degree reassembling back in al manarah. I found some students to quiz. They explained that one of their schoolmates, a sheepish looking boy they pointed out, was the son of one of the key leaders in prison. The students had decided to organize a walkout from the school and to lead a rally. Teachers and other staff tried to block them by first insisting they continue in school, then locking the gates. The students jumped the campus wall and followed their own light.

I congratulated them, said, I’m surprised the teachers and other school leaders aren’t among you, I think you did the right thing. When I inquired if the two main prisoners were the ones that Israeli accused of assassinating the minister, they denied that, seemed either to not have heard the charge or have disregarded it.

At no time during the rally and march did I feel threatened or vulnerable—except for my computer which I’d hauled to the café to do my web work and did not have time to bring home before joining the rally. I simply shifted my backpack from my back to my front, so no prying fingers would be able to sift thru my belongings. In pal, from my experience, this is usually a needless gesture. There is virtually no pickpocketing that I’m aware of, no thievery, virtually no crime, in ram at least.

After hanging with the crowd another half hr or so, finding the gunmen who are invariably at theses gatherings firing automatic pistols and rifles into the air—an Arabic custom, Jean Zaru once explained, at any festivity, even weddings—with me close enough to show some of the detail, getting close to the speakers, all young and fiery and agitated, I decided break for lunch at home and return to the café for the rest of my work.

My work was truncated however, when the kindly attendant announced, we’re closing in ten minutes, for the prisoners. Another shut down, for how long? I asked. Not sure, could be open tomorrow, could be closed for a few more days. Then this young man, tall and handsome, with a short growth of rich black beard, said to me, what is the English word for when someone has died or been hurt and you wish to respond?

Mourning.

That’s it, he said, we are mourning what is happening in Jericho.

Now, where does that leave me? Am I in any danger as a foreigner, an American? Dropping by the Friends elementary school to see if I might find J who I’ve been hoping to meet, and to check out whether I might be able to use the computers in the teachers’ room, I bumped into R, the guard and very personable factotum and my dear friend.

Did you hear, R said, that the American teacher, D, and his wife, C, and their child, are leaving Ramallah temporarily, until conditions settle?

No, I hadn’t. And other Americans, what’s happening with them?

Not sure.

Last night, Ryad continued,  armed men stormed the British council and ransacked it, threw furniture out the windows, generally destroyed the building. And they shot up the HSBC bank, the British bank.

Then J, when I finally located him in the apartment I rented last year, rang an alarm. He said, all the white people have left town for Jerusalem until matters cool down. As for me, I’m staying, I’m half Palestinian, and I stayed with my family last night and will tonight. For you, I’m not sure, your decision.

I checked the website of the US embassy for advisories—nothing, or nothing beyond the stock warning to stay away from the West Bank and Gaza. I learned also that Israel had sealed the entire West Bank, preventing Palestinians from entering Israel. Does this apply to me? I wonder. If so, I might not be able to enter Jerusalem, even if I decide to leave for a few days.

Completely befuddled, somewhat shaken, I sent off a quick message to L, copying it to my support group, saying in effect, I’m not sure what to do, might leave for Jerusalem tomorrow, might stay here.

With the story of Tom Fox ringing in my head, the abduction of CPT in Baghdad, and my extreme fear of beheading, I’m not sanguine.

Today I plan to sort out the situation by trying to remain calm. I meditated with the tree of refuge visualization this morning, washed my pants and shirt, made a large delicious breakfast of eggs and bread and fruit, took a big shit (always a delight), write now in this most vital journal, and plan to try first the café to see if they’re open and then to look thru the news and talk with people. If closed, I’ll trot over to the Friends elementary school, maybe drop in on Diana to see what she thinks, and at least inform her of my plans, since she is one of the contacts I left with family.

I might either hang tight, let matters calm, stay close to home—I have my computer and its projects—or leave for Jerusalem, attend the Rachel Corrie event at Dalia today at noon, a world wide reading of her words in protest to the closing of a play about her in NYC, maybe stay over at Faisel—is that any safer? I’ve written A for advice. Maybe she knows a safe house.

So that’s the reality I experience at the moment. Years from now I might look back on all this as unnecessary precaution. Or I might not look back if I’ve suffered grievously from the continuing catastrophe of the holy land.

Photos from the BBC

Report from The Electronic Intifada

Report from Aljazeera