Protestors face off with soldiers and police

Protestors face off with soldiers and police

By Rafael D. Frankel

NEVEH DEKALIM, Gaza—Under a blazing sun which sent sweat dripping down brows even in the morning hours, protestors faced off with soldiers and police here Monday in a day of tears, song, hugs between foes and confrontation between allies.

After a morning prayer session at the gates of this town of 528 families, protestors staked their ground on the road just inside the main gate. With the women sitting on the left and the men on the right, they sang Israeli folk tunes as well as solemn hymns as a special police squad dressed in all black jumpsuits formed a line on the other side of the gate facing them.

When it looked as though the police were about to enter the settlement, many women began crying while protestors shouted to the police on the other side of the fence.

"Do you think we're scared of you?" one religious Jew shouted through the barbed wire. "We're not scared of anyone; in cars, or on horses, or wearing black clothes."

One man climbed atop the guard tower donning a Jewish prayer shawl and phylacteries. He turned toward the police and prayed, drawing a throng of photographers who climbed the tower to capture the moment.

But after the police decided against entering the settlement by force just to issue symbolic eviction notices to the residents here, it was the protestors who turned against each other.

When 31 families asked that a convoy of army trucks and personnel be allowed inside the gates to bring them shipping containers and assist in their moving efforts, many of the younger protestors, as well as those who had infiltrated Gaza in the last few days, refused to allow the trucks through.

After community leaders lost the game of strength when they tried to force the gate open against the younger protestors efforts, Southern Command Chief of Police Uri Bar-Lev spoke with a blow horn through the gate. "This is your last warning,," he told the protestors, "you have ten minutes" before we open the gate by force.

In the end, settler leaders climbed the fence and spoke to the young protestors with the same blow horn, finally convincing them to back down and allow the convoy through.

It was the second day in a row there were clashes within the anti-disengagement movement. Just before the Israeli army sealed off Gaza completely at midnight Sunday, the teenage protestors punctured tires on five military vehicles, tore off side view mirrors and burned classified pictures of Gaza along the main highway which runs in front of the settlement.

The confrontation that everyone expected was turned on its head—at least for now. The 50 or so army officers who did enter Neveh Dekalim (through the back entrance) were greeted with mild shoving. But that quickly turned into a dialog between them and residents who both implored them to disobey the order to remove them from their homes and vented their frustrations as well.

"In 20 years, what will you tell your family, your children?" one female settler asked a soldier.

"I'll tell them I was doing my job, carrying out the orders of the state of Israel," he answered.

One local girl began crying as she implored an officer to leave her family in their home. He hugged her and told her "everything would be okay" in the end.

"We understand very much their feelings," said IDF Spokesman Ofer Alfasi. "Many of our friends from the army. They are our brothers. If it helps them to tell us how they are feeling then good, and maybe it will help us to."

At night, the teenagers of Neveh Dekalim traded in there orange protest shirts for yellow and blue basketball jerseys as the last Gaza Basketball League Championship was on the line.

Led by Barak Zigdon's 20 points, and two free throws from Ephraim Manshir, the home team won what will likely be the last finals ever played here.

Fans from Neveh Dekalim and their opponent Netzer Chazani never let up in their cheers for a minute during the game.

With trophies on the line, two boys banged on a garbage can turned upside down with tree branches, one teenager cranked a giant traditional Jewish noise maker, several fans banged out tunes on Moroccan drums, and one girl even played a kazoo.

During his clinching free throws, Manshir, 17, said he thought about the local kids. "I wanted to make them happy, especially in this time," he said.

"In all this hard situation, with all the soldiers today, we just got to play ball and be happy and scream," Manshir's friend Moshe Tovyana, 18, said. "Tomorrow, or tonight, we'll go fight again, but this is one moment with no stress."

©2005 Rafael D. Frankel and The New York Daily News