custody

I'm changing the names to crazy names just in case it affects their case.

OK, I'd been driven to the police station by the soldiers and then we were shown the courtyard to sit in one by one. Another boy was there when we arrived from the same place, making us 7 in total.

So, after 20 minutes I managed to get them to undo the tie that was cutting off the circulation in my hands - they felt funny by this point. it was great to get them moving again but discovered a strange and little bit painful bruises on the pads of my thumbs and my wrists felt funny and I was trying to get the sensation back to my hands. But great that we could now use our hands. Cigerettes were shared out between us and chill, waiting under the surveilance of 4 M16 wielding angry guards to be brought in by the police for "interview" or "interrogation" depending on which side of the barrel you're on.

I was first.

The policeman left me with a young policewoman that was quite podgy and seemed really distant and shut off but much much more pleasant than the others. Her name was Natalie and she was actually very good at explaining things for me. I tried to take my passport back afterwards, when she went to make herself some tea, but then she got a bit more proffessional and asked for it back in an unamused manner. The interview was great, I denied the charges against me, which I was shocked at to be honest:
1). Hitting a soldier
2). Hitting a police officer
3). Destroying military property (OK, I stood on the wire when I was at the front so that it wouldn't bounce back and catch a woman's dress or the other men's legs - but it was already trodden down and I didn't actually move it at all)
4). Entering an unauthorised military zone (perhaps - I don't know which zone is which but even if I did it, I had seen people cross it before without getting arrested and the other side of this "zone" was a road with free movement, so if they constructed a 2 meter by 10 meter 'military zne' then possibly)

so I carefully explained that my arrest was unprovoked and denied the charges.

When I returned, Zak was on the floor, writhing, with his hands tied up again, groaning in the corner. "what happened?" "he got beaten up while you were in the interrogating room".

"Doctoor, doctoor, get me doctoor"

"could you please arrange a doctor fo..." I was kindly enquiring when I was rudly interrupted by the green uniformed man "shut up"

"I think that he needs medical att..." I tried again in case he didn't realise what i was trying to say "Shuuut uuup"

Now I was starting to worry that I wouldn't be able to get to my medication for my legs, which would probably mean a lot of pain later on, especially as it was starting to get quite cold and the stress of the whole situation doesn't help the nerves at all. I was waiting for the opportune moment to mention this so that it would actually get heard and addressed for the rest of the 8 hours... It didn't arise.

"Tom, Tom, you see this? I need doctor."

"excuse me sir"


nothing

"Sir, excuse me, could youplease arrange a doctor for this gentleman"

this time addressing an older police officer

"OK, he's coming"

wow - that was easier.

So then Zak started cracking us all up. We weren't allowed to speak and they really wanted us to feel like maggots and respect them because they could, so it was a bit like in the Life of Brian, when pontious pilot starts talking about "Biggus Dickus" and the roman guards crack up eaven though it means execution or the dungeons.

"Tom, you see this? Where is my freedom? Where is my freedom in Israeli democracy?"
don't worry that was just the warm up.

"Tom, Tom, tell me Tom, where is Churchill?"

I don't know why this was so funny but trust me in this situation it was hillarious, all of us cracked up and the soldier's lips turned ever so slightly at the corner even though he took himself way too seriously.

"Tom, tell me Tom, where is Gandhi?" - good question

"Tom... I have a dream.... I have a dream Tom... I have a dream that I see a Doctor"

"Paradise"

"Tom... Tell me, where is Cromwell?"

This was equally hillarious and we burst out laughing, at which point I got the giggles... it was just such a stupid situation. But neither the Israeli guards or the Palestinian like the fact that I was laughing so much, but the palestinians like my spirit, and they kept telling each other to stay strong, which was really sad and touching.

There's something about being held and watched with supremely judgemental eyes, the army and the police - except for the Russian and other Soldier - thinking that I was the reason why the Middle East is so f"cked up and that I had committed a major crime by even being there, let alone going to the protest, let alone being a naughty boy in front of the educators with guns. It did feel alot like public school though. A team of friends that knew they hadn't done anything wrong in the face of an incriminating authority.

Debbs rang me, she had been trying to ring three or four times before but I wasn't able to answer the phone with my hands tied, and then i had to switch it off quickly when a soldier tried taking it away, you really have to keep your wits about you and try to keep on to the few ropes you have left dangling in front of you to climb out of the situation, they physically tried taking the phone away twice but I just wrenched it back out of their hands and said "OK, OK, I'll turn it off" then I turned it back on again in my pocket, and sent out a few text messages - which must have looked really really unsubtle, hiding the phone up the sleeve of my jumper when it was my turn to wear it.

Eventually Debbs got through and we agreed for her to keep calling every half hour - but that proved really impractical, so it slowed down after the first few times.

Cold
cold
cold

it's funny, I never imagined that my fingers would go numb with cold in the Middle East, but as the sun started to go down, it was a really windy and relatively cold day, and there was only one jumper between us - the nice grey wooly one that I wear, it was a Christmas present from Dad. It was the jumper that the nice soldier picked up for me when i couldn't pick it up. It proved a real lifeline - i tried to give it to Betty, the man that looked the coldest, but he kept giving it back after a while because i had a skinny t shirt on and the rest had shirts. So we shared it. We weren't allowed to stand up to do jumping jacks or anything. Chris was allowed to pray once, which was quite touching (Muslim prayer, so the standing and muttering and crossing of arms, recieveing the light of God and kissing His ground before Him).

Just to let you know - Zack was really OK in the end, even though the doctor never showed up and when I asked the police later, punctuated with more "shush"'s from the other side of the machine guns, they said that he wasn't getting a doctor.

He took his jumper off after they cut his tie to stop both him groaning and us groaning about cutting his tie, and he took off his jumper so that he could lie on it as he couldn't quite stand up yet, and there was a big nasty bruise on the inside of his arm, purple and pink and brown and swollen, it looked like the end of a good hard kick from one of the border guard's boots.

He eventually started stretching out and did a few sit-ups, much to our amusement, and went on to make a few more throw away comments about democracy freedom non-violence racism and Martin Luther King.

The rest of them went for interviews one by one and hours and hours later 3 cigarettes later and many funny static exercises in the chair to keep the blood going around my legs and keep warm - I was asked for a second interview.

This man was less cool. He looked Max the Meanie from the Beatles film "yellow submarine" and he was fatter in the face and legs. He squeezed a statement out of me, I tried to ask for my rights and he said I could call a lawyer if I knew a number but was only allowed one call. Luckily Debbs was on the case and said that she had already got a lawyer. But I didn't want to faff about and didn't really want to go to court so I was just honest and gave them a very truthful detailed account of what happened making sure that I didn't incriminate anyone.

After that, I was released! Yes! after what must have been 35 minutes of being born down by the no man meanie fat obviouslydoesn'thavesexalotwithhiswife power using manipulative righteous pompous angry hating but probablygotanothersidetohimthatIwillneversee P... Oh yeah, you really can't say that word here, I'll say copper instead.

He issued us with some sheet of hebrew, made me sign about 4 forms, then let Damien and I go instructing us to pay a 1500 sheckle fine at the post office by 9am Sunday after going to get a voucher from the police station before hand.

Damien's friend came to pick us up, we rang the boy that I was staying with so that he could drop of the medicine near the checkpoint, then we set to work ringing around for a place for me to stay the night in Jerusalem.

Guess who I eventually stayed with? A dutch woman that I had met at the community centre in Al Azar camp. Guess where she was at the moment? At the camp? Guess what would be 'no problem' for her to do? Pick up all my stuff! Yes!

Oh right, the reason why this is so significant is because i didn't have anything on me and conditions for release on bail were that I wasn't allowed into the West Bank again for 2 weeks. That meant 2 weeks without underwear and with socks that get five times as stinky three times as fast in the heat and with the walking and the water preservation (a nice excuse to be boyish and go without washing for a while). Yes, she got my books, little bits of paper, phone charger, toothbrush, rolling pin I use for physio, absolutaly everything that I needed. Helga is a LEGEND!!! And she has a really nice husband, Hugo, who I was left with while she was still at the camp, he was writing a funding proposal for their project in Silwan for a library, newspaper, creative writing class and other things... Silwan is a village just outside of Jerusalem - well more like a town, that is under a lot of pressure at the moment, it's disputed, many houses are being buldozed, they're left out of the public services ring... More themes with a different local twist centering around slow ethnic cleansing and land-grab, which seems to be the general trend happening here.

Freedom.

Oh my days, it felt soooo gooood

I felt really really lucky. Had a nice chat with the lovely committed hardworking altrustic interesting supportive empathetic and wise couple (does this sound like arse kissing? Because it's an accurate portrayal of this couple, one Dutch one Israeli, both musicians).

I had a read and a sleep and woke up the next day and thought... AMAZING!!!!

But then thoughts of the others started to crop up, thoughts of the bail money, thoughts of the possibilty of deportation. It didn't matter too much but I was still a bit emotionally shaken and have just about started to calm down now, having now identified closer with the plight of the Palestinians, the value of freedom, what it feels like, the fact that these guys are going through this everyday, their fathers went through it and even their sons think that they will go through it again. I used to see the attrocities and events in the West Bank as one offs, but they aren't, they are all just one thread in a dismal rope that is a palestinian's life. There are some beautiful threads that keep the rope beautiful overall but I started to see life here as continuous, as a continuity of these events. I started to imagine how my life would be like if I was born here 40 years ago, 60 years ago, 80 years ago, if I had a child today that had only palestinian citizenship and no means to escape.

That's the thing that I always was aware of but now really hit me. I can leave. I don't face anything these guys do, I'm just a tourist. I wasn't understanding what they were going through. I was imagining what if this episode happened to me in England, I wasn't understanding what it was like to live a full life out in the West Bank hearing of your friends and family being oppressed about 5 times a year for your whole life... not being able to do anything about it, not thinking that you could do anything about it. you can do what you can, you can contribute to the end of the situation for everyone, but you cannot stop these things happening to your loved ones in the future. If you try to they will onlyget worse (for 20 years at least).

Boy... So... after quite a chilled weekend I had met the Circus to Iraq, who were hillarious and lovely to meet people from Bristol and hear about their 5 weeks here and all the dramas that they went thr0ugh, and to hear English accents and British humour... Actually everyone has a really good sense of humour here, I suppose it's inevitable with so many layers of irony in daily life.

OK, so, today I finally got Damien's numer and found out about the other's situation (and my own) - so remember that the Palestinians have 3 military appointed judges and no jury.

Hassan - jailed at least until both trials end, his previous investigation during the second intifada left him with a condition on release that he would not join any more protests, so that needs to be investigated, as does whatever they were charging him with - I think they all charged us with the same things.

He's facing at least 3 months more likely around 2 years but maximum of around 5 unless they charge him withsomething else during the investigation.

Mohamad - his ID card wasn't on him when they arrested him and they typed the number in the computer wrong the first time he recited it, then second time they it right - and on these grounds are also accusing him of deception - and he goes back to court on Thursday, but has been released on a 5000 sheckle (1000 GBP give or take for a man that has poured his resources into the communiy, living in a poor rural farming village)


The other three are released with 5000 sheckles each

But they all have the condition on release of not going to any protests or organising any protests until the trials are over. Which means that with the whole leadership for the non-violent resistance in the area being taken in the minute they do something, the wall will be constructed even faster and further in to the village.

The judge rather annoyingly gave the prosecution 24 hours to appeal the decision - and the meanie prosecutors have taken him up on this offer and are going back to try them again. So I will know more by tomorrow.


best case - 4/5 will be released with 5000 shekle bail each and be able to protest again after a few years, and a 3 month sentence for Hassan.

worst case - jail for 5 years for the 4/5 and a fine for the destruction of the military property each - which will of course spiral way way way above it's actual value, and jail for Hassan for 8 years.

Kobda Kebab - an amazing Israeli activist, has already found bail money for 4 of them, which is no small feat among a Jewish community scared about the economic downturn with poor activists in an inequitable society. No small feat at all, especially in a few days. He deserves thanks and praise from around the world :)

If anyone fancies lending some money for 4 years to cover someone's bail then email me, and I'll put whatever you said in on top of my contribution and you can pay me back in the UK.

this money will eventually be returned - it's bail. so it will be returned between a month and 4 years. Even if they get put down. The only way it won't is if they can't get to court one day.



So, I also found out that they wanted to put Damien and myself under house arrest for the week, but that THE LEGEND THAT IS, Donatello that works with me managed to organise a lawyer for us all free of charge AND got my bail money to me through a friend.

MORE GOOD NEWS!

Sunday morning. I went to the police station at 7am. "sit down, we'll be with you in 15 minutes" they had a meeting for 45 minutes. Then it was "that desk" "he's away" "she's out, she'll be back in 2, 5, 10 then 10 minutes"...

When I eventually got to see someone who knew what was going on it was 9am... 2 hours later and too late to pay the bail. I was panicking a bit now. I rang 100 and asked the emergency services, I rang around 10 numbers and got brick walls, redundant referal numbers and grumpy answers. I rang Hugo the Israeli community worker, he rang a friend that rang Chris, Chris had been in touch with the lawyer so when Hugo rang back he had fantastic news.

Chris had got the lawyer to ask the courts what to do because we couldn't get this voucher, which is what the policeman at the desk opposite a poster of.... CHURCHILL!! with his finger pointing at the policeman, let's call him Anabella, saying in blue writing bellow "make sure you DESERVE victory!" said to me "it's not my problem, you need to go to Gush Etzion station to get the voucher" even though if I went back to the West Bank they'd arrest me again yet alone rock up right in the middle at a large police station! That was sounding a bit mission impossible, and get there and back, which would be about 2 hours, in under minus 20 minutes....

So... The court... just dopped it.

Phew

wow

just like that, i had 1500 that i could give back to Donatello and see if he wanted to put it towards to others or repay the people that probably borrowed it from (i know, but it's insulting to refuse something like this)

real freedom, well, hopefully. They haven't said anything about court yet which probably means they won't take us but you never know. I'm hoping not. It'll be funny anyway because I've got video footage of it. I'll upload it when I get it from Debbs.

This is a land of legends, and I'm not one of them.