An Eyewitness Account by ISM Volunteer Neal Ahern from Olympia, Washington

from: Neal Ahern

HELLO MY FRIENDS and family, sorry if this is all over the place, I just had to get it down before I forgot it all, or most of it. Today [March 21] has been quite the crazy adventure, but has also cemented emotions of how absolutely insane the soldiers here are, and how absolutely necessary it is for people to call for an end to this wall-and, more importantly, an end to this occupation. It is amazing how quickly one day, actually really only five hours, can really push one forward. Today for the first time I really felt endangered, pretty scared during various moments, and even decided I would rather be shot in the back of the head than in the face, but I will get there a little later.

This morning we awoke early to head to a village called Kharbatta, which, for those of you looking on maps and globes, would be somewhat near the Green Line and, in order, below Tulkarm, then below Budrus, then below Deir Qaddis, then it should be somewhere there. I have not been to this place before and only left my series of villages to be surrounded [by the wall] as it was quiet here, and there help was requested.

We arrived after a 45-minute drive through some of the bumpiest roads I have ever been on. It reminded me of the outerbeach in Orleans, except here the dirt roads have deep ravines made from rainwater and years of no roadwork. I was glad I didn't eat a huge breakfast, or I probably would have been a little sick by the end of the day. Our driver pulled over near the worksite, which was about 500 feet down a tractor path through olive groves. There were many women and children walking past us, and away from the demo-which is usually a bad sign-and the sound of gas cannisters being fired, which was confirmed by its pungent odor as we walked closer, and by the red rosy cheeks from people crying from breathing too much of the gas.

As we made it through the groves, a group of 100 villagers were sitting on some newly bulldozed farmland, with a bulldozer facing them about 50 feet away. Not seeing the other internationals who were supposed to be there, we decided that we would go and sit with the community. At this point it was 8:15 a.m. I, of course, did legal and media work and, as usual, stood to the back. The demo occurred on flat land, at the base of a hill which was to our right. Up on the hill there were young boys futilely throwing rocks nowhere near the soldiers, as the soldiers were shooting gas and rubber bullets at them. The demo where we were had everyone sitting down on their land, and a larger component of the community standing to the back away from the range of the gas.

Over the next hour or so, the soldiers decided three times to charge the crowd as they wielded their batons. All three times, as they approached those who were sitting, all the Palestinians and internationals who were in the background came rushing up to provide physical reinforcements. The soldiers would beat a few people, there would be some pushing, and then just an awkward standoff between the two sides. After about 5 or 10 minutes of staring at each other, the soldiers would run back as fast as they could to their jeeps, and then, upon reaching their jeeps, would turn around and begin firing as many rubber bullets into the crowd that was standing. After this happened the first time, we wised up, and when we saw the soldiers run for their jeeps we, too, turned around and ran with the hopes of finding cover before they turned around and shot. And as we ran, a group of 150 people remained on their land, sitting or lying down.

It was during the first of these three routines that I found myself getting shot at, so I tried to lie on the ground and crawl away from the scene, when a rubber bullet went flying into the back of my upper leg. Luckily I was wearing baggy pants, and I don't even think I have a bruise. I gave the bullet to the man I was lying near as a souvenir, and then we shared a little laugh, and then I went and hid behind a pile of rocks while more rubber bullets whizzed past our heads as we ducked behind the rocks-definitely not a good day for doing any peeking over rocks to check on soldiers.

While hiding behind the rocks, about eight Israeli folks, all around my age, showed up with a bullhorn. We talked briefly about the situation, and then they proceeded to move forward while the rest of the crowd lay face down on the ground, hoping not to get shot. The commander of the army would lift his baton in the air, then lower it, and everyone would fire, and then there would be injuries and medics would go running. Sometimes the soldiers would shoot gas first, and then when people would try to move away from it, they would be shot-this whole experience was quite unnerving.

No sooner had the Israelis shown up, than all of a sudden one of them was being rushed back behind me toward the ambulances, on a stretcher with a bloody bandage wrapped around his head. As I was still standing with several of his friends, when they realized who it was, they went sprinting after their friend. I later found out he was shot between the eyes, and now is in critical condition at the hospital seeing an eye specialist, who will determine whether he will lose either of his eyes, or his eyesight. I will spare you the rest of the details, as they are somewhat hard to handle, and I think you get the picture.

Today there were over 37 injured, 30 of the 37 were above-the-waist injuries inflicted by rubber bullets, including five who were shot in the head area, including an older Palestinian woman. Now, with all these injuries, it will be the injury to the Israeli that will be the biggest news, and I am not arguing that it isn't big news when the soldiers very seriously injure someone they are supposedly protecting with their uniform and wall, but to me the injuries of the Palestinians are just as important. But this is the way it is, shooting nonviolent protesters with bullets mostly, and a little tear gas, and I accept that one is bigger news than the other.

At 10:35 soldiers and border police-about 50-began pointing out internationals through binoculars, and began final preparations for their big, violent push forward into the peaceful crowd-why, I am not sure, as no one was stopping the work from happening. And then all of a sudden it started, first with the sound grenades, most launched directly at the group of young women who were sitting together and chanting. They began to run. I saw many trip on the rocks as more grenades were fired, and then tear gas. The soldiers were moving very quickly toward me, and I wanted to go and help the women out of the rocks, but I figured I would only be arrested in the process. I turned to run in the olive groves as the rubber bullets began to come flying, and quickly realized I had landed in the middle of the stone-throwers, who at this point began throwing stones at the violent soldiers. Then the soldiers just started firing at random into the olive groves. I tried to run to a safer area by many of the women, but the bullets kept coming, and you couldn't see the soldiers shooting, only the bullets coming basically from nowhere, and then through some olive branches, and then, whiizzzz, it was flying by your head.

I finally reached what I thought to be a safe spot-and then, through the branches, came a bullet right at me. I saw it and instinctively tried to move my hips out of its direction, and so it hit me in the butt and then whacked off my cell phone, which was in my back pocket. An older man started calling for a doctor, which actually made me think I had been injured badly, but I checked and there was no blood, and so I said I was fine, which I was. I was actually quite impressed that in the split second I saw the thing coming, I also managed to move my body and diminish the bullet's effects on my body-and, boy, am I glad it wasn't shot any higher.

The army continued to chase us through the olive groves with bullets being fired everywhere, all the plastic-coated steel variety. I worried about my friends, but all but one eventually made it out. One was arrested, but she just got released after signing some papers, and is back at the apartment now.

I wish I could put some positive, funny spin on this day, but I can't, it was just awful. I reflect most on the number of bullet injuries above the waist, as this is where you aim if you want to seriously injure someone, and the notion of shooting to seriously injure nonviolent people gathered to protect their farmland from being destroyed seems unfathomable. It is almost like the soldiers want to raise the stakes and get the Palestinians more violent or something. I don't know. I am feeling grateful that I wasn't seriously injured today, and am happy that, through my expressions of solidarity, I faced the same risks as Palestinians-not that I came here to face risks, but in the sense that they could see we were all taking these risks for them, and me as an American getting shot at by American weapons paid for by U.S. tax dollars must work against some of the propaganda that exists in our two lands about each other, and each other's feelings toward one another. I hadn't been that unsure about my safety in a very long time. I really had to do some personal questioning today and serious checking in with myself. I am fine now, and I recognize the people here face much worse, and much more regularly, but it is all relative to one's experience, and this day is like no other I have ever had. I love you all and am definitely feeling fine and very happy to be back in Biddu. I will talk to you soon, and continue to hope things will change here and tomorrow will be a safer day for all of us.

-Love your friend, son and brother, Neal

This article appeared in the May 14th 2004 edition of the Washington Report on Middle East Affairs. It is used here with permission.