Shoot First, Laugh After – Israeli violence up-close
It started out as an ordinary afternoon, Mohommed and I were going to a meeting with some of the people of the village of Salem, to talk about ISM and other internationals planting trees with them one day next week – they
get a lot of harassment from the soldiers and settlers in the area.
Half-way there a taxi coming from the other direction told us there was a flying checkpoint further along the road, so to expect a bit of a wait. Sure enough we came to the back of a line of about 20 vehicles, including tractors, lorries and many taxis (shared taxi is the normal mode of
transport around here). After waiting for about 15 mins, we decided to let the taxi go and continue on foot.
ðWe could see the squat ugly shape of the Armoured Personnel Carrier as we walked, it was parked at the crossroads, at bottom of the settlement and military base road, so that the traffic was backed up on the other three roads. As we walked down towards the APC there was a load bang, Mohammed
said, 'there're shooting the people'. In the confusion of the moment I heard a woman begin to wail, and a man, obviously injured, being carried towards us and quickly bundled into a taxi, with a number of women, one
holding a tiny baby. The taxi did as quick a U-turn as it could and tore up
the road in a cloud of dust.
I stood staring at a pool of blood not quite comprehending what I had seen. The man who had just been shot was Ahmed Baeri (excuse spelling) from the village of Salem, father of four, the youngest had been born in a Nablus Hospital just the day before, and he was bringing his wife and child home
that day. He had come to the front of the line and called across the wide space to the soldiers asking them if he could pass with his wife as she was exhausted after the birth. They responded by shooting him in the leg.
The Israeli soldiers behind the open door of their APC beckoned the next person forward. A man climbed down from his tractor and slowly crossed the open space towards the them. He had just witnessed a man being shot by
these same soldiers, but he had face them, as had all the others, their lives would grind to a halt otherwise. This is a routine day for them, but for me what I had seen was just beginning to sink in:
An unarmed man had just been shot, from a distance of over a hundred yards by heavily armed soldiers from behind the doors of their APC. I had heard the shot, I had seen the blood, I saw him prostrate in the back of the taxi.
Then it was my turn to walk across and show my ID – I won't pretend my heart wasn’t' pounding. When I got there I found that none of these soldiers looked older than 20, maybe 22. They were grinning all over there faces. I asked why they had just shot a man, and they told me 'You are lying, we shot nobody, you are a liar!'
'Come with me and see the blood' I said – more laughter, 'You should be so ashamed of yourselves, and your Mothers would be so ashamed of you too.' 'No, you are wrong, she would be so proud'.
They agreed to let me through but not Mohommed so I turned back. As I walked away their laughter was ringing in my ears. As I write this I still don't know the fate of Ahmed.
Reported by D from Undercurrents.org
It started out as an ordinary afternoon, Mohommed and I were going to a meeting with some of the people of the village of Salem, to talk about ISM and other internationals planting trees with them one day next week – they
get a lot of harassment from the soldiers and settlers in the area.
Half-way there a taxi coming from the other direction told us there was a flying checkpoint further along the road, so to expect a bit of a wait. Sure enough we came to the back of a line of about 20 vehicles, including tractors, lorries and many taxis (shared taxi is the normal mode of
transport around here). After waiting for about 15 mins, we decided to let the taxi go and continue on foot.
ðWe could see the squat ugly shape of the Armoured Personnel Carrier as we walked, it was parked at the crossroads, at bottom of the settlement and military base road, so that the traffic was backed up on the other three roads. As we walked down towards the APC there was a load bang, Mohammed
said, 'there're shooting the people'. In the confusion of the moment I heard a woman begin to wail, and a man, obviously injured, being carried towards us and quickly bundled into a taxi, with a number of women, one
holding a tiny baby. The taxi did as quick a U-turn as it could and tore up
the road in a cloud of dust.
I stood staring at a pool of blood not quite comprehending what I had seen. The man who had just been shot was Ahmed Baeri (excuse spelling) from the village of Salem, father of four, the youngest had been born in a Nablus Hospital just the day before, and he was bringing his wife and child home
that day. He had come to the front of the line and called across the wide space to the soldiers asking them if he could pass with his wife as she was exhausted after the birth. They responded by shooting him in the leg.
The Israeli soldiers behind the open door of their APC beckoned the next person forward. A man climbed down from his tractor and slowly crossed the open space towards the them. He had just witnessed a man being shot by
these same soldiers, but he had face them, as had all the others, their lives would grind to a halt otherwise. This is a routine day for them, but for me what I had seen was just beginning to sink in:
An unarmed man had just been shot, from a distance of over a hundred yards by heavily armed soldiers from behind the doors of their APC. I had heard the shot, I had seen the blood, I saw him prostrate in the back of the taxi.
Then it was my turn to walk across and show my ID – I won't pretend my heart wasn’t' pounding. When I got there I found that none of these soldiers looked older than 20, maybe 22. They were grinning all over there faces. I asked why they had just shot a man, and they told me 'You are lying, we shot nobody, you are a liar!'
'Come with me and see the blood' I said – more laughter, 'You should be so ashamed of yourselves, and your Mothers would be so ashamed of you too.' 'No, you are wrong, she would be so proud'.
They agreed to let me through but not Mohommed so I turned back. As I walked away their laughter was ringing in my ears. As I write this I still don't know the fate of Ahmed.
Reported by D from Undercurrents.org
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