revolutionary spirit
29th May 2002, 22:03
The reality behind the world's great historical events is not
much like its painted picture. As the bulldozers and tanks rolled
into Palestine, an army was deployed to deny a whole people their
lives, their very right to exist.
The invasion of Palestine last week telescoped to the siege of
the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem. In that church, which
drew the world's media attention, were 150 people who by chance
of the moment had run there for sanctuary, who were hungry,
thirsty, afraid, and surviving. The Israelis waited on these
frail people to come out.
Amongst them was Mary Kelly, a small, fragile, strangely
determined, Irish woman who, again by chance of history, and a
touch of iron in her soul, happened to be there.
"We walked up the main street, in the centre of the road, in the
silence of a curfew, to Manger Square, as we had done several
times before that week. We were carrying food and medication, not
daring to look behind, afraid of the tanks that might come up
behind us, or that soldiers above and around us might open up.
"We got up to the razor wire they'd placed round the church and
climbed over it. Whilst some of us created a diversion, ten of us
ran towards the door of the Church - The door of Humility - the
low door where humans must bow down - and we were into the
church.
"No one could ever forget the welcome. The 150 people who were
besieged were overjoyed to see us. Separated from their families,
some wounded, some already killed or wounded by the firing that
went on into the compound. Our arrival was like a new lease of
life to people who were under continuous attack for the 30 days
they had been there.
"We slept on the floor, each to his or her own space. The church
has no benches. There was a part with a little carpeting. We had
a few blankets from the priests who had living quarters. The food
we had brought did a soup for two days, carefully ladled out.
Then it was soup, water and leaves. We had no other food.
"There was much to be done, caring for the wounded, cleaning,
sweeping, dressing wounds. No painkillers. People sat, they
talked, shared news, survived. Sometimes we could go out to the
air in the courtyard. A Palestinian had been killed out in the
yard, hanging up some washing. The Israelis had two huge cranes,
which would lower cages down with snipers to fire on us.'
Mary tells her amazing story. She is a nurse and a human
rights/peace activist. "I read about what was happening in
Palestine on the internet, she said. "I saw reports of how the
women could not get through the checkpoints to get across town to
hospital to give birth. Women had given birth at checkpoints
where soldiers would not allow them through. I saw an appeal from
an international solidarity group to come and help. I answered it
and went.
"The Israeli invasion happened two days after I arrived. There
were about 90 of us, peace activists, human rights workers,
observers, who had come - from all over the world, Sweden,
Denmark, Italy, Japan, Vietnam, Australia, England the US. They
were old and young, men and women, who'd come out of the
Globalise Resistance movement, the anti-Vietnam War movement; one
even had worked with the Peace People with Mairead Corrigan.
"We had a couple of days' training together as peace 'observers'
and then a baptism of fire. We decided to hold a demonstration, a
peace march, through the curfew, to visit a house that had been
bombed. We were met by two tanks. A soldier opened fire on us. I
thought they were firing in the air, until a man beside me fell
wounded. Seven, including a press man, were wounded. We had to
turn back.
"Some of us decided to go to Nablus, where, we had heard, the
town had been bombed, the people curfewed and there were many
injured. Five of us went. Our car was continually stopped at
checkpoints - "No foreigners allowed in" - and turned back. We
took to our feet, across the hills, following a goat path. That
night we stayed in a village with a farmer and his extended
family - a grandfather perhaps 70 years old, who told us his
story.
"It was everyone's story. He had been arrested along with his son
and had been detained for three days. He was tied up, beaten,
blindfolded. His son was still imprisoned. He wanted to know
where we were from. All of them knew about Ireland - from films
like Michael Collins, Some Mother's Son, and In the Name of the
Father.
"An extraordinary people. So immensely dignified, graceful so
grateful to us, so attentive to our needs. Surviving in a world
of systematic destruction of their livelihood; their crops
bulldozed; olive groves levelled; the water system, the sewage
system, their irrigation trashed; their houses destroyed or taken
over and ransacked by occupying army, or purloined as sniping
posts. They had surrounded the town, called over loudhailers for
all men between 14 and 60 to come out. They had blindfolded them
and taken them away to detention camps, interrogation centres,
leaving the old, the children and women under curfew at the mercy
of the invading army.
"The next day we walked into Nablus. Our little group of five
were the first people into the town. We went to the Rafidia
Hospital. They couldn't get the wounded to the hospital or get to
the dead on the streets. Ambulances were shot at. I travelled in
ambulances that had bullet holes. I stayed three weeks and worked
with ambulance crews driving into the Kasbah to rescue the
wounded.
"We organised a group of us and six medics to go out to the
bombed area. We were stopped at a checkpoint, roughly, brutally
they said we were not getting through and they would shoot us if
we tried. They demanded we hand over the Palestinian medics who
were with us. We refused. They called up reinforcements and
started to beat us with boots and rifle butts. Some, especially
the men, were fairly badly beaten. The soldiers got the
Palestinian men away from us. They stripped them, made them kneel
down in the position for execution. They said they would shoot us
if we didn't hand up the women. We formed a circle round them and
held on. We stayed put. They backed off and in the end decided to
march us all back handcuffed into town, and as we marched some
media people happened on the scene and the soldiers in their
shame released us all. It was a victory that strengthened us all
greatly.
"I went to Ramallah. The people were living in fear. A group of
women, social workers, students, teachers, counsellors got
together to go into the schools. I went with them. We'd work with
a group of 30 or so little kids - to offer them ways to take out
their anger and their fear - all through play and creative
projects - painting murals, beautiful things, that they did not
lose their sense of humanity. It was an extraordinary venture to
let the kids survive and not let the horror of what they had seen
and suffered take over their lives. Shades of Holy Cross. The
Palestinians survive, whatever the cost, because they have no
choice - they cannot, no matter the cost, be defeated."
Mary Kelly is an amazing woman and the story she tells is the
story of our struggle, of what Bobby Sands spoke about in The
Rhythm of Time. It is the story of all those strange courageous
fragile people, with a touch of iron in the soul, who answered
the international solidarity appeal for help, and gave it.
much like its painted picture. As the bulldozers and tanks rolled
into Palestine, an army was deployed to deny a whole people their
lives, their very right to exist.
The invasion of Palestine last week telescoped to the siege of
the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem. In that church, which
drew the world's media attention, were 150 people who by chance
of the moment had run there for sanctuary, who were hungry,
thirsty, afraid, and surviving. The Israelis waited on these
frail people to come out.
Amongst them was Mary Kelly, a small, fragile, strangely
determined, Irish woman who, again by chance of history, and a
touch of iron in her soul, happened to be there.
"We walked up the main street, in the centre of the road, in the
silence of a curfew, to Manger Square, as we had done several
times before that week. We were carrying food and medication, not
daring to look behind, afraid of the tanks that might come up
behind us, or that soldiers above and around us might open up.
"We got up to the razor wire they'd placed round the church and
climbed over it. Whilst some of us created a diversion, ten of us
ran towards the door of the Church - The door of Humility - the
low door where humans must bow down - and we were into the
church.
"No one could ever forget the welcome. The 150 people who were
besieged were overjoyed to see us. Separated from their families,
some wounded, some already killed or wounded by the firing that
went on into the compound. Our arrival was like a new lease of
life to people who were under continuous attack for the 30 days
they had been there.
"We slept on the floor, each to his or her own space. The church
has no benches. There was a part with a little carpeting. We had
a few blankets from the priests who had living quarters. The food
we had brought did a soup for two days, carefully ladled out.
Then it was soup, water and leaves. We had no other food.
"There was much to be done, caring for the wounded, cleaning,
sweeping, dressing wounds. No painkillers. People sat, they
talked, shared news, survived. Sometimes we could go out to the
air in the courtyard. A Palestinian had been killed out in the
yard, hanging up some washing. The Israelis had two huge cranes,
which would lower cages down with snipers to fire on us.'
Mary tells her amazing story. She is a nurse and a human
rights/peace activist. "I read about what was happening in
Palestine on the internet, she said. "I saw reports of how the
women could not get through the checkpoints to get across town to
hospital to give birth. Women had given birth at checkpoints
where soldiers would not allow them through. I saw an appeal from
an international solidarity group to come and help. I answered it
and went.
"The Israeli invasion happened two days after I arrived. There
were about 90 of us, peace activists, human rights workers,
observers, who had come - from all over the world, Sweden,
Denmark, Italy, Japan, Vietnam, Australia, England the US. They
were old and young, men and women, who'd come out of the
Globalise Resistance movement, the anti-Vietnam War movement; one
even had worked with the Peace People with Mairead Corrigan.
"We had a couple of days' training together as peace 'observers'
and then a baptism of fire. We decided to hold a demonstration, a
peace march, through the curfew, to visit a house that had been
bombed. We were met by two tanks. A soldier opened fire on us. I
thought they were firing in the air, until a man beside me fell
wounded. Seven, including a press man, were wounded. We had to
turn back.
"Some of us decided to go to Nablus, where, we had heard, the
town had been bombed, the people curfewed and there were many
injured. Five of us went. Our car was continually stopped at
checkpoints - "No foreigners allowed in" - and turned back. We
took to our feet, across the hills, following a goat path. That
night we stayed in a village with a farmer and his extended
family - a grandfather perhaps 70 years old, who told us his
story.
"It was everyone's story. He had been arrested along with his son
and had been detained for three days. He was tied up, beaten,
blindfolded. His son was still imprisoned. He wanted to know
where we were from. All of them knew about Ireland - from films
like Michael Collins, Some Mother's Son, and In the Name of the
Father.
"An extraordinary people. So immensely dignified, graceful so
grateful to us, so attentive to our needs. Surviving in a world
of systematic destruction of their livelihood; their crops
bulldozed; olive groves levelled; the water system, the sewage
system, their irrigation trashed; their houses destroyed or taken
over and ransacked by occupying army, or purloined as sniping
posts. They had surrounded the town, called over loudhailers for
all men between 14 and 60 to come out. They had blindfolded them
and taken them away to detention camps, interrogation centres,
leaving the old, the children and women under curfew at the mercy
of the invading army.
"The next day we walked into Nablus. Our little group of five
were the first people into the town. We went to the Rafidia
Hospital. They couldn't get the wounded to the hospital or get to
the dead on the streets. Ambulances were shot at. I travelled in
ambulances that had bullet holes. I stayed three weeks and worked
with ambulance crews driving into the Kasbah to rescue the
wounded.
"We organised a group of us and six medics to go out to the
bombed area. We were stopped at a checkpoint, roughly, brutally
they said we were not getting through and they would shoot us if
we tried. They demanded we hand over the Palestinian medics who
were with us. We refused. They called up reinforcements and
started to beat us with boots and rifle butts. Some, especially
the men, were fairly badly beaten. The soldiers got the
Palestinian men away from us. They stripped them, made them kneel
down in the position for execution. They said they would shoot us
if we didn't hand up the women. We formed a circle round them and
held on. We stayed put. They backed off and in the end decided to
march us all back handcuffed into town, and as we marched some
media people happened on the scene and the soldiers in their
shame released us all. It was a victory that strengthened us all
greatly.
"I went to Ramallah. The people were living in fear. A group of
women, social workers, students, teachers, counsellors got
together to go into the schools. I went with them. We'd work with
a group of 30 or so little kids - to offer them ways to take out
their anger and their fear - all through play and creative
projects - painting murals, beautiful things, that they did not
lose their sense of humanity. It was an extraordinary venture to
let the kids survive and not let the horror of what they had seen
and suffered take over their lives. Shades of Holy Cross. The
Palestinians survive, whatever the cost, because they have no
choice - they cannot, no matter the cost, be defeated."
Mary Kelly is an amazing woman and the story she tells is the
story of our struggle, of what Bobby Sands spoke about in The
Rhythm of Time. It is the story of all those strange courageous
fragile people, with a touch of iron in the soul, who answered
the international solidarity appeal for help, and gave it.