Friday, September 21, 2007

Mahmud Kayed

The following is a news article concerning a Palestinian teenager who was run over by an Israeli military bulldozer. There are so many instances and little news articles of Palestinians being killed in the Occupation that never make a ripple in the media or the national conscience--so, why choose this article to highlight here? There are a couple of reasons. I accidentally saw an image of the outcome of this event and it was seared into my brain; so, there is an emotional reason. And the emotional is not just tied to the image I saw--all of these various and many incidents of children being killed as a result of the Occupation are both incredibly tragic and should be highlighted and discussed and known about. The other reason is the similarity this incident bears to another tragic death in Gaza--that of Rachel Corrie. As I type this, I know Rachel Corrie's name--I did not have to look it up; it is there, lodged in my brain. But, as I type this, I have no idea what the name is of this 16 year old youth who, like Rachel Corrie, was crushed to death under the treads of a bulldozer that was made and sold by an American company and operated by the Israeli military.

We should never forget Rachel Corrie or her life--her humanity, her work, her ideas, and her love. And I want to never forget this 16 year old boy in Gaza. A boy who had a family, who had dreams and loves and hopes. He, like Rachel Corrie, was resisting the Occupation the only way he knew how.

AFP - Thursday, September 20 01:13 pm
GAZA CITY (AFP) - A 16-year-old Palestinian boy was killed on Thursday after being run over by an Israeli army bulldozer during a military incursion in the Gaza Strip, medics and witnesses said.

Mahmud Kayed was run over by the bulldozer when it lurched towards a group of youths throwing rocks at the vehicle during the army incursion in the Al-Bureij refugee camp, they said.

Four Palestinians, including two militants from the Hamas movement that has ruled Gaza for three months, were wounded by Israeli gunfire during the operation, medics said.

The two militants, one of whom was seriously wounded, were injured by helicopter fire, medics said.

Israeli bulldozers were ripping up farmland in the area, while soldiers were going house to house searching for militants and weapons, they said.

No comment from the Israeli army was immediately available.

The death brings to 5,866 the number of people killed since the start of the second Palestinian uprising in in September 2000, the vast majority of them Palestinians, according to an AFP tally.

d.c., iraq veterans against the war, civil disobedience/direct action

I wrote the following yesterday, I think, but just haven't decided whether to post it or not until now. It is long-winded but I wanted to get some of it down in words.

I slept 15 hours last night. I got back yesterday from a trip to D.C., to take part in action against the war in Iraq.

I wrote out a long description of what happened….but it is so long and detailed that I don’t think I’ll post it here. Instead, I’ll write a “quick” summary.

There was a rally and march on the 15th. I rode out in a van with some other folks from Colorado and we picked up some more people along the way. I had a really good time getting to know them.

There was a planned civil disobedience action—a “die-in” at the capital at the end of the march. I marched with the Black Block and then, when we neared the capital, left the Block and hurried to the capital. I moved to the front of the large group of people, up to where the police had erected a metal barrier at the foot of the steps of the capital.

The situation quickly became very intense. A large number of people, led by Iraq war veteran against the war, began to lie down. Police arrested a few people, pulling some over the barrier. I stayed by the barrier, at a point where it joined a cement wall and banister along the foot of the stairs and I joined in with chants and shouting.

After awhile, the veterans decided to take more direct action and began climbing over the wall, one by one, and be arrested. This continued for quite awhile, as Iraq war veterans, then veterans for peace, and then lots of other people joined the line going over the wall. I saw one of the people from our group that had ridden together from Colorado climb up on the wall, raise his fist, and go over. He is a Vietnam veteran and a member of veterans for peace. The line of people kept going up and over, police arresting one after another.

I had decided to participate in the action and was waiting for what I felt was the right time to act. I noticed that police were beginning to bring in canisters of pepper spray. I had a feeling that the police would soon stop allowing people over the wall and would try to disperse the protesters. Before long, the police apparently decided that there had already been enough arrests and that they needed to wrap things up. I saw a man in a red sweatshirt climb atop the wall and attempt to go over it to be arrested. The police pushed him back with riot shields. I climbed the banister to cross over to where the man in the red sweatshirt was standing, now on the ground. When I got to that side, another man climbed up onto the wall. I felt that it was the right time, so I put my foot on the cement of the banister and jumped up onto the top of the wall.

I waved at the crowd, motioning forward with my arm and shouting--trying to encourage others to come. As I was continuing this, I was suddenly hit directly in the face with a stream of pepper spray. I went down on my hands and knees on the top of the wall and felt sick and extremely disorientated. I called for water and someone pushed a bottle into my hands. I tried to flush my eyes. I couldn’t see and snot and tears seemed to be flowing everywhere. I heard someone ask my name. I didn’t respond and I heard a voice say “anonymous.”

Soon, I sensed that the other person was moving back to the wall. I stood back up, holding onto a light post with my left hand. I was worried that one of us might fall or be pushed backwards off the wall. I put my other arm around the other person and felt him being pushed back and forth. I think I was sprayed again at this point. I was really disorientated. I remember touching the light post with my hand and it was slick with pepper spray.

The person I was holding onto was pulled forward into the police. Police were pulling at my feet and legs and I went forward and was pulled down and away and pushed onto the ground. I said “I’m not resisting, I just can’t see.” As I was cuffed with thick plastic zips and searched, I heard police saying that I was being charged with a felony. They led me up the capital steps; I couldn’t see and so I tripped a few times. When we reached the top of the steps, the police told me to get on my knees. After I hesitated and asked “what?”, I was told that the police had water for my eyes. I could sense a large number of people and was able to catch a quick glimpse out of my left eye. There was a huge line of people who had been arrested. The police told me that I was “going to the front of the line; you’re going to headquarters” because of a felony property damage charge.

The officers told some more police that I was “going to headquarters.” I was put alone into a paddy wagon and, after a short wait, driven to D.C. capital police headquarters. I stayed calm the whole time, although I was scared about the felony charge, even though I knew I had done nothing to warrant it. I was scared that the police would try to charge me with trying to inciting a riot. I thought the felony charge and the police comments about it were meant to be intimidating for some reason. I was happy with my decision, though, and told myself that whatever happened would be okay.

Once I got to the station, I was searched and booked and questioned a little. The pepper spray started getting to the police officers in the room, irritating their eyes and causing sneezing and coughing. The police took me to another room and handcuffed one arm to the wall. The arresting officer came in; he was a good person, I felt--I was happy it was him that would be doing the processing. I didn’t feel the same about everyone I came into contact with (I got an uneasy feeling about one person there) but I really did like the arresting officer. He told me that he was a veteran of Operation Enduring Freedom and had served in Africa. I think he understood why people were doing what they were doing in D.C. I think the fact that so many veterans were involved was a very powerful message. I said that the people taking action did not want to see any more soldiers being killed needlessly. He treated me as personably as possible in that situation and it made the experience much better than it could have been.

He left the room part way through the process; when he returned he was smiling and said “it’s been dropped to ‘crossing police lines,’ a misdemeanor!” When that part of the night was over, I was put into another paddy wagon to be taken to a cell. The arresting officer came out to talk to me and he was kind and obviously felt bad about what had happened. And it was in a real way, not in some kind of police psychology way. We talked and then he left and before long I was taken with two others to another place. One of these other people was the other man who was also on the wall and pepper sprayed. The other was a man initially charged with having an “incendiary device,” which was actually a bundle of sage that he had lit and was letting smoke.

At the next place, I was again searched and fingerprinted (every finger plus palms; ink and computer). I was photographed and then put in a cell. It was just me and I was glad—it was very tiny. It was all stainless steel, except for the cage door and a light that never turned off. There was a toilet but no paper. I stood, sat, and finally lied down on the steel bed. My arms burned but I rested on the bunk until about 1:30 or 2:00 in the morning when an officer came, unlocked the cell, and handcuffed me. I, along with the other person who was pepper sprayed, were taken back to headquarters and given our possessions. We then walked from the station and went to wherever we were staying. I later found out that a friend from Fort Collins who flew out to D.C. also participated in the civil disobedience and was arrested.

It was quite an experience for me. I was so happy and so proud of the Iraq veterans who decided to climb the wall. And of all the other veterans and all the other people who made that decision and all of the people who were a part of the day. I really feel like this was a turning point in the anti-war efforts. That voice is so powerful. What does it mean when the soldiers fighting a war come home and say that it is wrong and must end and that we all need to take action to end it? Some of the police officers told me that they were against the war, too. Maybe police will be next in opposing this war.

I guess this “quick” summary is still pretty long but nothing like what I first wrote! I have come home from what was, for me, a very meaningful action and I have revived energy and momentum. Today I just have not known what to do. It’s like I want to be back in D.C. with people taking action. I want us to be on the steps of the capital, the people demanding an end to this war.

I want to include here a link to the Iraq Veterans Against the War. It made me feel so good to see people coming from a military background, people who have actually been in Iraq because of this war, take such a powerful stand against the war and occupation. Their website is:

http://www.ivaw.org/

anbar

I just watched a short film about Anbar Province and the U.S. military's strategy there. I keep thinking about a graphic novel I read a few weeks ago called Deogratias, A Story of Rwanda. And I keep thinking about Palestine. In all three scenarios a powerful nation finds and latches onto perceived differences and then through systematic arming, funding, and protecting one group exacerbates these differences until violence erupts between the two. In Rwanda it was the Hutus and Tutsis and the Belgian government; in Palestine it is now Hamas and Fatah and the Israeli and U.S. governments; in Iraq it is the Sunni and Shitte and the U.S. government. All of these cases have their roots in colonial, imperial domination.

It is history repeating and we can see the devastating outcomes.

Here is a link for the Anbar film (it is in two separate parts):

http://bignoisefilms.org/

(Under 'Uncovering the Truth About the Anbar Success Story' click on 'watch video clip part 1' and 'part 2')

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

something i happened across

Of life's two chief prizes, beauty and truth, I found the first in a loving heart and the second in a laborer's hand.

--Kahlil Gibran

Monday, September 10, 2007

an empty glass bottle tells
a story of what it once was
but the one looking at the
green glass is transported
to another place where what
was once no longer matters
and what will be
fills the sky with
lightening and rain

-a.n. falanay

Saturday, September 08, 2007

archaeology on the green river

I spent the last week and a half doing archaeological work near the Green River in the area where Colorado, Utah, and Wyoming meet. It was a good project; we camped in Utah in the Browns Park area along the Green River and it’s an incredibly beautiful place. I was able to go swimming in the afternoons. There was a spot on the river where the channel split and one part slowed down and deepened. It was a great spot for swimming—pretty deep and really refreshing.

It is the first time I worked in archaeology for about a year and a half. It was enjoyable to do the work again. I was worried about my hand—I had hurt it earlier this spring working at the nursery—but it went just fine and I was really happy about that.

We worked on two different sites—one in Utah and one in Wyoming. The Utah site had eight hearths; seven of them were really deep, up to a meter, while one was a very shallow feature. Out of one of the deep hearths came a burned prickly pear pad which is really cool and something I’ve never seen in a prehistoric fire pit.

The other site in Wyoming was on a ridge overlooking Red Creek. The drainage flows through red sediment which colors the water; hence the name. A number of stone tools came out of that site and a feature or two.

The area is really beautiful. I’d like to go back just to backpack and camp. It would be really fun to spend some time just hiking around in the area. There are several canyons that would be great to explore and you could hike around from the Green River to the Yampa River.

The are is pretty interesting if you’re into old west history as well. Browns Park is the area that the Bassett sisters ranched in and several other historical folks frequented the valley. The sisters became involved in a range war with some big ranching barons and began rustling some of these companies’ cattle. The sisters and other residents of the valley also gave refuge to various outlaws including Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. It was a pretty remote place and it’s still a good distance from towns or cities. A famous black outlaw named Issom Dart also hung out in the area. He helped the Bassett sisters in their efforts against the cattle barons and was eventually assassinated by a man hired by the cattle barons to kill rustlers in the area. There are lots more historical stories about the area and there are some historic sites and at least one small museum/information center in the area.

It felt a bit strange to be working that job again and I have also felt a bit strange getting back home, although I was very excited to get back and be here with Jen. I guess I get into the rhythm of something and it makes me feel a bit out of sorts when that’s broken. The experience rekindled questions that often circulate in my head—questions about the future, about goals, about purpose, about a lot of things.