At Deir Ballut’s second March demonstration, the army parked at the village outskirts to prevent demonstrators from reaching their land. Protesters piled up near the jeeps, and in broken English the mayor struggled to convey to the soldiers how unjust their blockade was. After 20 minutes, most protesters were either injured from beatings or sound bombs or back in the village strategizing. I saw a group begin walking towards a broken truck on the side of the road. Moments later there were dozens of villagers pushing it towards the road. Before long, protesters had blocked the road with the huge truck and set it on fire. Now we weren’t the only ones trapped—the soldiers were, too.

Protesters walked back to the village, and the soldiers spent more than an hour trying to clear the road so they could leave the village. In the meantime I chatted with villagers and met their families. Occasionally a tear gas canister would fly onto a residential street and children would begin to cry. I escaped onto the roof of a tall house and watched as the soldiers slowly made their way back through the village. It was payback time. Everyone vanished into their homes. Soldiers jumped out of their jeeps one by one and ran through the streets. They were like characters in a video game, ready to snipe anything that moved. The village stayed quiet for hours until the soldiers finally got bored and left.

 

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