Three British women were
deported from Israel last week after marching across Manger Square
to take food to the people trapped inside the Church of the Nativity.
Nic Fleming meets them
Two weeks
ago today, 16 men and seven women pulled off one of the most audacious
nonviolent direct-action stunts of recent times. Under the noses
of dozens of armed Israeli soldiers, they broke through to the
Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem to leave behind a 10-strong
human shield and food for almost 200 civilians, monks and Palestinian
militants trapped inside.
Twelve days later, with several of their comrades still in Israeli
custody, three of the siege breakers are squashed together on
a floral-patterned sofa in a messy Bristol lounge. At first glance,
Marcia Tubbs, Jo Wilding and Katie Thomas do not look like the
type of people who would confront head-on some of the best-equipped
troops in the world. They have two-and-a-half university degrees
between them; one plays the cello, another is a trapeze artist
and the third admits to being a chocoholic. Laughing and joking
about their exploits, they sip herbal tea and explain how three
young British women found themselves risking their lives 2,000
miles from home.
The dangers
of what they were about to do only really hit home when, just
24 hours after landing in Tel Aviv, the trio were given a final
action briefing in a car park 10 minutes' walk from the Church
of the Nativity. The instructions came from the International
Solidarity Movement (ISM), the group behind the operation. "Here's
the church and here's the square," said the coordinator,
pointing at a sketched map. "There are tanks here and here,
and snipers here, here and here," she added, pointing to
crosses on the diagram.
It is
estimated that around 1,000 activists from around the world have
travelled to the Middle East since the Israeli army began its
recent incursions into Palestinian towns and refugee camps. While
Israel insisted that it had a right to defend itself from terrorism,
many direct-action groups disagreed. Urgent appeals for volunteers
were issued by campaigners via the internet.
"I had heard how Palestinian ambulances and fire engines,
which normally got turned back or even shot at, were often able
to get through if they had foreigners with them," says Wilding.
"I thought to myself, 'Do you want to be someone who actually
tried to make a difference, or someone who sat at home watching
it on TV?' "
Thomas, a 22-year-old bus driver, adds: "A friend from Manchester
was shot in the stomach by Israeli soldiers at a peace demonstration
near Bethlehem. That really upset me. I was really scared, but
then I thought if I could use my skin colour and country of origin
to do something good, then I should."
The three women and another friend from Bristol, Alister Hillman,
arrived in Tel Aviv on May 1. By 8am the following day, they were
at a meeting being advised to put toilet paper in their ears as
protection against stun grenades. They were also warned not to
pick up the grenades.
Wilding,
who is 27 and a part-time law student, says: "The aim was
to get food and people into the church. There were concerns that
the Israelis were planning to end the siege by storming the church.
Someone asked at the meeting about the chances of being shot.
They said they usually fire at your feet or above your head or
in front of you, so as long as you don't run or lie on the ground
you're usually OK."
Tubbs,
30, adds: "I thought they were unlikely to shoot at me, but
I was afraid of being hit by shrapnel or of walking into a bullet
by accident. We discussed our fears, but in deciding to go out
there I had already made my decision."
That afternoon they travelled by minibus and then taxis down side
streets to avoid Israeli troops. Ducking whenever they saw a tank,
they passed through rubbish- and rubble-strewn streets carpeted
with broken glass and littered with flattened and burning vehicles.
Bags of rice, lentils and fruit were divided out, and the 23 activists
split into four groups moving on foot.
Fifty
yards from their objective, on the edge of Manger Square, they
paused briefly. Tubbs was worried about how she might react if
shots were fired. "All the way up I was thinking how embarrassing
it would be if I died of a heart attack from the shock,"
she says. Wilding was humming a Beach Boys song. Thomas gave a
final hug to Wilding, whose heart was pounding furiously. Thomas
says that just talking about it gives her butterflies.
Eyeing
nearby roofs to check for snipers and trying to ignore the nearby
tanks, they stepped into the square with their arms raised. Tubbs,
a support worker for the mentally ill, says: "We walked as
purposefully and solidly as possible. I waited for gunfire, but
none came." Thomas adds: "By then I had stopped thinking
and was just walking and hoping. Seeing some people getting to
the door was really cool. I thought, 'Yeah, we're making it, we're
doing it.' "
The Gate of Humility, the main entrance to the church, opened.
Someone shouted, "Shield, shield!" and they formed into
a protective huddle in the doorway. Ten of the group, including
Hillman, entered quickly and the food was passed in before the
door was slammed shut.
Turning
around, the remaining 13 were confronted by a line of 20 Israeli
troops. They were quickly bundled into custody and had their hands
bound with plastic handcuffs. "They didn't know what to do
with us," says Wilding. "We were not that scared because
we were on such a high."
After
around eight hours the Israelis put them into a truck and drove
them to a checkpoint, where the men were picked out of the group
and taken away. Tubbs, Wilding, Thomas and two other women had
their feet tied up and were loaded into a smaller van and driven
to various locations around Bethlehem. They were released individually
at around 2am, with instructions to report to the Ministry of
the Interior seven hours later.
On arrival
at the ministry they were detained again, and for almost five
days they were held in prison cells without legal representation,
although they were allowed to make phone calls home. Tubbs's mother
told her off for "supporting terrorists". Thomas's plans
not to tell her parents the full story were thwarted when her
mum read about her exploits in a newspaper.
Wilding
went on hunger strike in an attempt to prevent their deportation.
She says: "I refused food in protest at the idea of Israel
deporting us, and also in solidarity with the Palestinians being
starved both inside the church and outside. I refused to have
my photo taken. They pulled my hair, slapped my face, stamped
on my feet and kicked me as I was on the floor of a cell."
They
were told they were being deported, banned from returning for
10 years and placed on a flight to London last Tuesday.
The women
arrived home with mixed feelings. In particular, they say they
are disappointed at being unable to take part in future protests.
Already, activists across the world are preparing for two months
of actions across the West Bank and Gaza organised by ISM and
scheduled to start next month.
Yesterday,
three of the remaining Church of the Nativity activists were due
to be deported, while four Americans were still being held in
a detention centre in Ramallah. "I was sad to be leaving
so soon," says Tubbs. "I was glad to be home but I really
wanted to do so much more out there. But it was incredible to
be part of what we did."
Wilding
adds: "I've never felt so proud of anything I've done. What
we did was something international political bodies should have
been doing. But if they can't or won't do it, then it's up to
ordinary people like us. Anyone can do what we did."
