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CounterPunch
November
2, 2002
Olive Orchards
and Armed Zealots
by MARY HUGHES-THOMPSON
Yanoun Village,
Occupied Palestine. At 8 o'clock
on a sunny morning, a small group of internationals from ISM
and other peace organizations accompanied members of a few local
Palestinian families as they went into the nearby fields to harvest
their olives. Because this village has been under continuous
attack from armed zealots of the illegal Itamar settlement, these
farmers didn't dare to harvest from any trees except those close
to their village. Recently the entire population of this simple
village fled after repeated nighttime attacks from the armed
settlers, and only because internationals promised to accompany
them did a few of the families gain courage to return.
On this peaceful Sunday morning as I
was enjoying the sun and the company of about two dozen villagers
who frequently made certain we were well supplied with water
and tea, our quiet labors were interrupted by gunfire close by.
As the villagers continued picking olives, a few internationals
investigated the shots and learned that IOF soldiers were shooting
for reasons that were unclear, except that apparently they knew
there were settlers prowling the area. The soldiers asked that
all of us to move back close to the village, which we immediately
did. Perhaps thirty minutes later, we learned there had been
a bombing at the Ariel settlement, and it was decided we should
stop harvesting and guide the villagers home.
Everything was packed up within a couple
of minutes and the Palestinian harvesters quickly climbed out
of the valley towards their village. The internationals stayed
back to make sure they made it home safely, and all seemed calm.
Suddenly I heard shouting beside me and saw that several young
armed settlers were attacking the peace activists with rifle
butts. I saw one smash his rifle down on the head of Robbie
Kelly, an Irish ISM volunteer, and also witnessed them attacking
Omer, who is an Israeli member of Tayuush. I continued to climb
the path as quickly as I could, hoping to reach the village and
perhaps call for help.
Then I noticed I was alone, except for
James Delaplain, a 74 year old grandfather from Wisconsin, who
was hurrying along a lower level toward the village. Suddenly
he was surrounded by armed and angry settlers, they set upon
him with fists and weapons, pushing him out of my sight behind
an olive tree. Fearing for us both, I continued my climb hoping
to reach safety and calling for help for James.
Seconds later I was surrounded by four
or five of these angry young men who began screaming at me in
Hebrew. Two more began to throw rocks at me from the top of
the ridge above me. One grabbed the stick I had been using to
help me climb along the rocky path and he struck me hard on my
left arm with it. I was shocked because I never imagined they
would attack someone clearly old enough to be their grandmother--I
am 68. The others began to kick me and one knocked me down.
I got up quickly because I had been told during ISM training
that once you are on the ground you would be beaten more severely.
By now, I realized they were planning to hurt or even kill me,
and I was really scared. As I pleaded with them to stop, telling
them I was there in peace and that I was frightened, they continued
striking me on my arm and shoulder with the stick and rifle butts,
all the time screaming at me that they would shoot me. I was
struck on my back and chest with the stick and I really felt
they wouldn't stop until they killed me.
My backpack which held all my money,
my airplane ticket, my US and British Passports, my credit cards
and my digital camera, was over my right shoulder and I tried
to hide it from their view. Perhaps it was fortunate that one
of them saw it because as soon as they had snatched it from my
shoulder they stopped beating me. They screamed "Just Go!",
"Go!", "Don't come back!", "Next time
you get a bullet!", and I sobbed and said I wouldn't come
back. I'm afraid I behaved like a total coward, but I just wanted
them to stop hitting me.
As the settlers left and I started again
up the path, two other young settlers appeared above me. I was
afraid they would attack me, so I shouted that the others had
told me to go and that I was going. After a few more seconds,
I saw several people in front of me and was momentarily afraid,
but was so relieved to find some wonderful internationals who
were anxious about James and myself. I screamed that the settlers
had beaten James, and just seconds later James also struggled
to the edge of the village and safety.
It was evident the IOF, which knew there
was trouble brewing and ought to have been there protecting civilians,
had deliberately stayed away. The soldiers only intervene to
protect the settlers--it is unheard of that they intervene to
protect Palestinians.
Robbie needed seven stitches to repair
the wound to his left ear. James had been hit in the left eye
by a rifle butt and had been beaten in the ribs. My injuries
were less severe and it turned out I have no broken bones. Poor
James, who had pneumonia two weeks before leaving for Palestine,
has fractures of one or more ribs and a collapsed lung; he is
currently in Hadassah Hospital in Jerusalem.
Mary Hughes-Thompson was born in Lancashire in 1933, lived in Canada
from 1953 to 1961, when I moved to California, where she worked
in the motion picture and television industry. She is a member
of the Writers Guild of America and a private pilot.
About ISM: Read
the interview with Ghassan Andoni here: audeh1029.html
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