[News] Palestine - Thousands at the border

[Anti-Imperialist News]

Thousands at the border

<http://electronicintifada.net/people/moe-ali-nayel>Moe Ali Nayel
http://electronicintifada.net/content/thousands-border/9971
17 May 2011

I grew up in Lebanon during the civil war and the 
Israeli occupation of the south. During that time 
a revolutionary song by Julia Butros, “Wayn 
al-Malayeen?” (where are the millions), was 
continually heard. But as a child I never 
understood what she meant when she sang “Where 
are the millions? Where are the Arab people?”

In 2006 during the Israeli war on Lebanon I heard 
the song again. I was 25; this time I understood 
what it meant and that line kept playing 
endlessly in my head throughout the 33 days of war.

Last Sunday, on the way to the border, the bus 
driver played that song. In light of the Arab 
revolutions that are happening at the moment, 
millions of Arabs have taken to the streets to 
demand their freedom, to demand their rights and 
to speak out for the first time (at least since I 
have been alive). On 15 May the same millions 
took to the streets, only this time to demand the 
liberation of Palestine: their freedom, their right.

That day at 7:30am we gathered in front of Mar 
Elias Palestinian refugee camp in Beirut. There 
were five buses already full of people and on the 
street there were about a hundred others waiting 
for more buses. Finally, we learned there were no 
more buses and we would have to rent additional 
ones. I got into our rented bus full of 
enthusiasm and good vibes; the journey back to 
Palestine had started. The crowd on the bus was 
an interesting mix of people of different 
nationalities and as we sat down we were all 
Palestine, we were all Palestinian.

For weeks I had anxiously awaited 15 May, the 
Third Palestinian Intifada. Many people had 
started referring to it as such on social 
networks, and I myself loved the sound of it and 
so this is how I would refer to it every time I 
spoke about it. However, 15 May is the Nakba 
(catastrophe) commemoration; on this day we 
remember that more than 750,000 Palestinians were 
forced out of their homes, their land, to make 
way for a new country and people to be put in their place.

To me Palestine was and still is the central 
cause in the Arab world, and I always believed 
that the liberation of Palestine would not happen 
before the liberation of the Arab people from the 
corrupt ruling dictatorships. The west like to 
call them the Arab moderates but in reality this 
means Arab puppets. Today however the Arab world 
is changing and the Arab people are revolting, 
and while they are revolting they have not 
forgotten about Palestine or the suffering and 
occupation their Palestinian brethren are going through.

In closely following the Arab uprisings since the 
protests in Tunisia started, I have always seen 
at least one Palestinian flag among the 
protesters in every Arab country. Palestine has 
always been present during the protests. 
Palestine has always been present in the hearts 
and conscience of the Arab people. The “malayeen” 
or millions are speaking now and their united 
voice is hitting the sky. Yesterday, again, the 
Arab people spoke: the people want to liberate 
Palestine; the people want to return to Palestine.

The road to Palestine

The trip from Beirut took longer than it should 
along the coast to the south; hundreds of buses 
and cars displayed Palestinian flags, and on the 
sides of the roads big billboards read: “May 
15th: the march to return.” I have never felt so 
delighted when looking at a billboard before.

On the windy road from Nabatiyeh to Maroun 
al-Ras, the endless line of buses continued, the 
windows full of people waving to each other and 
flashing the V for victory sign. We felt like we 
were really going back to Palestine. On the bus 
three Palestinian friends and I jokingly but 
sincerely started making plans about where in 
Jerusalem we were going to have a coffee, or 
should we just go to Haifa and enjoy the beach 
there, we teased, believing it somehow.

As the bus wound through the lush green valleys 
of the south, blooming with flowers and life, I 
couldn’t help but notice many buses with Syrian 
license plates. “Had these people come all the 
way from Syria?” I wondered. But no, I was told 
there were not enough buses in Lebanon, so some had been rented from Syria.

Contrary to our original plans, the bus had to 
stop in Bint Jbeil, a village a few kilometers 
away from our destination ­ the border at Maroun 
al-Ras. The village had been turned into a big 
parking lot for buses carrying people from a 
dozen refugee camps all over Lebanon and the many 
Lebanese that wanted to march to the border. We 
jumped out of the bus and without asking how we 
would get to the border, we found ourselves 
joining thousands of people walking through the 
green fields and climbing mountains as a short-cut to our shared destination.

It was an approximately five kilometer walk or 
more accurately, a hike. It was beautiful to see 
endless lines of people marching from different 
directions in the green land. Next to me were 
Palestinian families who had brought the young 
ones and dressed them up for the occasion. There 
were old women and men who struggled to climb the 
steep hills and there was a great spirit of 
solidarity among the people as everyone gave a 
hand, everyone offered to help, and everyone smiled.

My wife and I slowed our pace at one point to 
listen to an old Palestinian man leaning on a 
cane. He was walking with his grandson and 
telling him the story of the time he had had to 
leave Palestine and carry his nine-year-old 
sister while escaping to Lebanon over these very 
same mountains and paths. The old man spoke to 
his grandson of the beauty of Palestine and described how their home looked.

Finally, as we gradually drew closer to the 
border, he told the young boy, “Soon you will go 
and see Palestine, the most beautiful country I 
have ever seen; it’s where we come from. It’s our land.”

Shooting from the valley

We finally got to Maroun al-Ras, a public space 
on top of a mountain overlooking occupied 
Palestine. There were thousands of people 
scattered all over the mountain top and a big 
screen was broadcasting what was happening down 
in the valley. Before we could properly take in 
our surroundings I heard shooting, four or five 
shots from below us in the valley.

I told my wife the Israelis are shooting, and a 
minute after that, a person on the microphone 
called for the ambulance to bring down stretchers 
to the fence. I asked what was happening and 
people told me four martyrs had fallen and more than twenty were injured.

A wave of people stretched from the park on the 
top of the hill all the way down to the border 
fence. I found myself sliding on that wave, 
stopping every once in a while to catch my breath 
and wonder whether I should stay where I was or 
keep going down to the fence. I could not contain 
the desire to join the thousands on the fence 
already throwing stones across the border. From a 
distance, the stones looked like white birds diving to the other side.

I finally made it to what they were calling the 
second line, approximately 500 meters away from 
the border fence. There were ambulances parked 
nearby and the Lebanese army had formed a human 
chain to prevent more people from joining those at the border fence.

Many Palestinian young men and women kept 
insisting on breaking the chain the Lebanese army 
had made, wanting to join their brothers and 
sisters on the front line. Watching the faces of 
the Lebanese soldiers, all I could see was 
confusion and panic, but they were not losing any 
chance to threaten and intimidate the protesters 
with their raised batons and sticks.

All their guns were directed to the sky

Standing in front of the army were a few 
Palestinian men pleading with the raging people 
not to take it out on the Lebanese army. “This is 
not what we were here for,” they shouted over the 
chants. That did not stop the people, and even 
with the knowledge that the land between them was 
littered with mines, people kept breaking through 
the chain and sprinting to join the front line.

One group of courageous young women broke the 
chain of men and ran towards the front line and 
everyone cheered them on. All this time the 
Israelis were shooting, a burst of two or three 
shots rang out frequently, and every time they 
shot we saw the stretchers gathering new bodies.

At 4:00pm we decided to climb up the steep 
mountain and walk back to catch our bus. After a 
couple minutes of walking, I noticed the Lebanese 
army moving towards the front line, the fence; 
they reached the protesters who started loudly 
chanting “Palestine! Palestine!” As the army made 
their way to the very front it looked like they 
had decided the protest was over, and suddenly, 
with no warning, the Lebanese army on the front 
and the second line started firing thousands of rounds into the air.

All their guns where directed to the sky, but the 
amount of shooting terrorized everyone who was 
there. We all started sprinting up the steep 
mountain; a random man pulled my arm and dragged 
me up with him as I struggled to keep up on my 
feet. The firing intensified and there were the 
same waves of people this time running in panic. 
Next to me there were lost children, crying, 
wanting their parents; an old man ran out of 
breath, crouched down; I saw an old Palestinian 
woman running up the mountain with tears running down her face.

Looking back down to where the second line was, I 
could only see a line of soldiers with their M16 
rifles to the sky, shooting nonstop. It was like 
something out of the movies. But something even 
more terrorizing happened in the middle of the 
shooting. As the Lebanese fired their guns I 
heard deeper shots coming from the Israeli side 
and bullets whizzed by me; I took a dive to the 
ground. The way the Lebanese army decided to end 
the event made me ask myself, who is the enemy here?

Nothing to lose but our chains

The march to return left at least ten persons 
dead in Lebanon and many others in Syria and 
Palestine, while in Egypt the people were prevented from reaching the border.

People who normally don’t care about Palestine 
and enjoy a life of apathy and consumerism asked 
me today, what did you achieve? What did you 
change? Was it worth it the death of tens of people?

My answer is the following: after yesterday, 
things will not be the same as before 15 May. 
Just like after 
<http://electronicintifada.net/content/its-not-just-tunisians-who-are-hungry/9791>Muhammad 
Bouazizi, things are not the same as before he 
shook the Arab world. The Arab people, us, the 
Arab youth, we are not going to let the status 
quo continue, we are not going to be humiliated 
by our own people anymore. We are not going to 
let Palestine and the Palestinian people be 
humiliated and tortured every time they breathe.

We are freedom-loving people and we won’t live 
anymore on empty promises from our corrupt 
governments who use Palestine as a pretext to 
repress us while they enjoy stealing from our 
pockets. We won’t let them continue to make sure 
Israel is safe and sound, enjoying the beautiful 
land of Palestine, while hundreds of thousands of 
Palestinian refugees live in inhumane conditions in the camps.

How do you expect a Palestinian refugee to see 
his land being enjoyed by the Israeli occupation 
and not react to that? We, the Arab people, the 
Arab youth, the millions, have decided that we 
have nothing to lose but our chains and that 
Palestine is our prize. I saw yesterday how much 
the people want to free Palestine, how much they 
want return to Palestine. The Arab people are 
here, the Arab rage is here, the malayeen are here.

Moe Ali Nayel is a journalist and fixer based in Beirut.




Freedom Archives
522 Valencia Street
San Francisco, CA 94110

415 863-9977

www.Freedomarchives.org  
-------------- next part --------------
An HTML attachment was scrubbed...
URL: <http://freedomarchives.org/pipermail/news_freedomarchives.org/attachments/20110517/3d70c186/attachment.htm>