shots and explosions

It was overcast and drizzling when the taxi driver dropped us at the ditch in the middle of the brown field. This was our daily taxi driver, ferrying us cheerfully to and fro the olive fields each day, from the camp. Nodding cat toys on his dashboard. This was a new picking place today.
We clambered up the mound of gritty soil and down the otherside, into the second ditch, watching out for the dead cows lying at the bottom. This ditch has been made to restrict Palestinian access past this point. We walked through the trees on the other side, across the smooth bitumen settler road, to where the family was picking. We were saying our hellos, wishing peace upon the farmers, when the army jeep pulled up suddenly on the settler road. Two soldiers jumped out, suddenly, and began to run across the field, towards our taxi driver, who began to drive away. There was no way they were going to catch him, and we were looking in confused amazement. As they themselves made it to the top of the tall mound between the two ditches one of the soliders fired one single shot at the car, just as it disappeared into the town. We were stunned, confused. The soliders walked back to the jeep, turned, and drove away.

Later that day the taxi returned to pick us up. The car's right hand side mirror has been shot out, along with the small window next to it. The solider had fairly good aim, it seems. The driver has no idea why he has been shot at for driving on this Palestinian field. The repairs will cost him 300 NIS, and Rob offers it to him immediately. He declines the money - "Money no problem," he says with a sad grin, and points to himself, "man - if shot; problem".

There is another thing that happens that day. Near the end of the day one of the villagers, Ra'ad, shows us a grenade that he has found buried under rocks in his field. It is still there, submerged in the soil. Where it has come from, no one is sure. Our initial thought is, of course, that it has been planted by settlers, but it could just as well been some random UXO from days gone by.

So the next day we call B'tselem, an Israeli Human Rights organisation, and we call the District Co-ordinators Office, who call the army to come and remove/explode it. We all gather to watch, placing video cameras on the hood of an army jeep and taking cover behind the vehicle. The army run a long wire from the settler road to an explosive device which they put over the grenade. They move into position, and it feels like we are waiting forever, our excitement is brewing. Settlers are driving past and slowing to see what all the commotion is, and we wave them on. And, then, the explosion. A boom sounding through the cloudy valley, a thousand rising birds, a flash of flame, a cloud of smoke. The tree above it convulses madly. Just for a second. And it is over.

We are told the grenade is a replica, a dummy. We feel the small crater in the soil, warm and scattered with shattered shards of metal. We thank the army guys and they leave.

But I also want to add that not everything in my life right now involves weaponry and war and sneaking around and getting gassed. I could also tell you about the warm steam of the Turkish Baths, the narrow tunnels of Nablus's old city, the hilarious night games of 'silent football' which is a truely awesome game.

In fact, I could write about all of this for days, and it would never be enough.