Tension filled the morning hours in every Palestinian household today. Yesterday saw the largest wave of Palestinian demonstrations since the Intifada. The number of Palestinians dead and injured was unreasonably and unjustifiably high. The situation was highly unpredictable and volatile. Today there were going to be demonstrations all over occupied Palestine.

I drove with a couple of friends from the small town of Birzeit ( NW of Ramallah) towards Ramallah at around noon. The atmosphere resounded echoes of ghost towns in the American Wild West. Few people could be seen sitting outside their houses listening to their small transistor radios. From the horizon, I could see three Israeli helicopters hovering above Ramallah. The sounds of their guns randomly shattering the unpeaceful calm. As we approached Ramallah, the sound of bullets got louder and more intense. We were definitely approaching a war-zone.

Passing through a deserted down-town Ramallah, we headed towards Al- Ma'aloufieh section of town: that is where the Israelis had set up a checkpoint barring Palestinians from entering Jerusalem and where the most intense battle between the Palestinians and Israelis was happening. Palestinian police were all over the streets trying to stop cars from entering the war-zone.

We parked our car around 300 meters away from the sight of the battle, and we proceeded to walk towards the action-filled main highway. This was the first time I had ever been in a situation like this. I was surprisingly calm and enthusiastic about witnessing the battles, but nevertheless apprehensive about being in such a dangerous situation. What would happen if I got shot? Or my friends got shot? What if I got killed!! There was no time to allow these random thoughts to hinder my progress. I just walked forward determined to share the struggle with my Palestinian brothers and help, in anyway possible, any of them who is in danger.

Around 500 people were crowded on one side of the highway, 20 meters ahead the battle was fought. Earlier in the afternoon nine Palestinians were killed while hundreds were injured. Above us, like giant eagles, the helicopters were shooting at their prey. Bullet sound could be heard whizzing through the air. Palestinian security forces were trying to disperse the defenseless crowds away from the danger, but to no avail: the people were determined to fight this fiery monster with stones and rocks.

As I approached the battlefield, fear started creeping into me. I ducked down whenever I heard a bullet sound. I thought that my 6'4" height and my quite broad build did not really put me out of sight for any Israeli sniper positioned on the nearby hills. Wisely, I stopped my approach and settled behind a three foot wall. Next to me was an armed Palestinian security man whose machine gun had run out of ammunition. All around me I could hear the sounds of bullets. I had no idea where it was coming from and where it was heading. I decided to stay low and protect myself behind the wall.

A short time hereafter, the sounds of fire started to subside. Palestinian security forces were arriving by the tens in their jeeps in an effort to try to stop the escalation of the demonstrations and to avoid further bloodshed amongst the Palestinians. The security forces formed a human chain that stretched across the highway and were now moving forward together pushing the masses back from the battlefield. They succeeded in doing so in a relatively short time. The battle had come to a sudden halt and the sounds of bullets were not to be heard.

From a distance I spotted my father searching for me. He had heard that I had gone down to the firing- range and he was quite worried about me. I assured him that I was all right and told him about what had happened earlier. My father told me he wanted to go to the Ramallah Hospital to visit some of the Birzeit University students that were injured in the past couple of days. I said I would go along.

We drove towards the hospital on the now one-lane highway moving away from the crowds. As we reached the hospital, I noticed the large crowds gathered outside the entrance. Friends and families of the wounded eagerly and apprehensively awaiting any news from within the hospital. Palestinians from all walks of life offering to donate blood. The echoes of ambulances could be heard in the distance approaching the hospital. We entered the hospital and immediately saw the extent of what had happened that day: stretchers lying all over the place, wounded people all bandaged up waiting in the aisles, and a state of controlled chaos looming.

We saw one Birzeit University student who told us he would take us to the rooms of the wounded students. The first one we saw had been hit by a rubber bullet just beneath his right eye. His face was bandaged up and his eye was heavily swollen. He said he was doing fine and that the doctors said that his situation was stable. The other student, Yaser was his name, was less fortunate: he had been hit in the heart and was in critical, yet stable condition, in intensive care lying in a coma. He had arrived to the hospital clinically dead but was brought back to life by the doctors after ten minutes.

The whole situation was like a dream to me. Nothing seemed real. Could this be really happening? I stood along the side of the congested aisle emotionless and helpless. I could see that my father was distressed by this whole situation. But what could be done?

We went back to my grandmother's house in Ramallah to follow up the news on the TV and radio. By the end of the day forty four Palestinians had been killed and more than a thousand were injured in the West Bank and Gaza Strip. The fear of what tomorrow might bring loomed largely over the dark night sky of Ramallah.

Recapping the events in my head, a feeling of sorrow and determination came over me. Where all these deaths justified? Did they serve a purpose in the big frame of events? How else were we going to make our voices heard? How else could we unveil the blatant injustices we are facing in our everyday life? I didn't know the answers. What I knew was that the determination of our people to achieve their statehood, to acquire the right for self-determination, to gain their inalienable human rights, and to fight for the Arab sanctity of Jerusalem was above and beyond the power of bullets, soldiers, helicopters, and governments.