Blogga eller inte

Ja, det är frågan? Hur som. I väntan på svaret skriver jag............

Jag snubblade över texten nedan, skriven av en medlem i CPT. Christian Peacemaker team. En organisation som har vänt på det här med att göra militärtjänstgöring. De gör fredstjänstgöring. De finns i bla Irak, Palestina och Colombia. Redo att dö för fred. Det är ofta äldre från USA, Kanada och England. Åtminstone de jag träffat.

January 5, 2012 – Hebron, Palestine

Welcoming the Enemy
“CPT! CPT! Come, come! The soldiers have a man!” Her voice startled me. Jean, Rosie, and I had been on afternoon patrol, but I had lagged behind to look at a few shops in Hebron’s Old City. Though I did not know the woman requesting my presence, she knew who I was because of my red hat and gray vest bearing the Christian Peacemaker Team logo. I was alone, inexperienced in the field.

Four soldiers stood in a semicircle next to a wall. One was pointing a gun at a Palestinian man; another had the Palestinian’s green identification card and was radioing his headquarters to check the ID. They do this from time to time—randomly check the IDs of passersby. As far as I can tell, no rationale exists for their method of choosing whom to check; the superior gives the command to check IDs, so they check IDs. For the soldiers, the agenda of the Palestinian or timeframe are not important. If a soldier wants to check an ID, then the Palestinian must stand there and wait. This man was not even crossing a checkpoint. He was walking through the Old City like everyone else.

“Why are you holding this man,” I said to one of the soldiers in the middle. “What did he do?” No answer. “Why do you need to check his ID?” The soldier looked up at my eyes, with seeming disdain, but said nothing. I turned to the man pointing the gun at the detainee. “Why are you pointing a gun at him? What did he do?” Still no response.

I began photographing and videoing with shaking hands. I had never before confronted someone carrying an automatic weapon, much less six people. After only a few minutes, however, the ID cleared, and the soldiers released the Palestinian.

Trailing them by only a few feet, I followed them as they walked in two lines, three to a line, and seemed to be practicing some kind of drill. Periodically, a couple would lift their rifles up, briefly taking aim at houses above, or down alleyways.

As they approached the end of the Old City, one of the soldiers in the back turned and quickly pointed the barrel of his weapon into an elderly man’s shop. The store owner sat out in front, his head just beneath the level of the gun’s barrel. He simply looked up at the soldiers passing his shop, bowed his head, lifted up his hand, palm upwards, and said, “Ahlan wasahlan, you are most welcome.” His response so caught me off guard I laughed out loud. Here was an IDF soldier, a member of the military occupying this Palestinian man’s land, who walked the streets of Hebron to protect the Jewish settlers who were illegally taking more and more land from this man and his people. In short, there walked his enemy.

And this Muslim man extended his hand in humble invitation. Resistance.