For several years as a child, I lived on a US Navy base in Japan. Our house was located fairly close the the main gate for the base and periodically we would hear the demonstrations outside the gates (which had been locked for the occasion). The demonstrators were mostly Japanese people (at least 100 of them each time) who were protesting the presence of nuclear warheads on the battleships and submarines stationed at the base.

The demonstrations were, as I remember them, always peaceful but included lots of shouting and sign waving. They also were something to schedule around as the gates would be closed meaning no one could enter or leave the base.

I don't know if it's my natural inclination towards "following the rules" or this fairly early experience with the troublesomeness of demonstrations, but I've never wanted to be a part of one. I don't want to go and it makes me anxious to even think about participating in a demonstration.

So, imagine my nervousness when I learned that one of our regular activities with EAPPI in Bethlehem is to participate in a non-violent demonstration each Friday in the town of al-Masara!

But, I put on my big girl panties, got in the taxi with my other team members and went to the demonstration.

At first, we stood around with about 20 other international folks (activists of various kinds from various places). And, we stood around. And, we stood around. AH! Finally the town's organizer showed up (they'd been at Friday prayers at the mosque). And, we joined up with about 100 Palestinian people -- mostly men, but about 10 women as well. I recognized a man I'd met at the Palm Sunday march, so I had someone who could help me navigate the demonstration (btw, NOT knowing the language is a MAJOR disadvantage. Note to self: learn Arabic!).

All went well, really well. We marched to the line of razor wire and were facing about 15 soldiers of the Israeli army. Speeches were made, slogans were said, pictures were taken (by both sides. Turns out the army takes pictures of people at the demonstrations so they can blacklist them. Hmm, maybe I should've worn a scarf....).

After about 20-25 minutes, some of the young men (18-22 or so) couldn't stand the non-action and somebody lobbed a stone. No surprise, the army came straight on. The Palestinians ran; one of the Palestinian organizers was yelling at the boys to stop throwing the stones -- this is a non-violent demonstration. The journalists were busy snapping photos. The international activists started talking back to the soldiers. I found a wall I could plaster myself against and pretend like I wasn't there.

Because of the route that the soldiers took -- down the main road -- I was stuck on the wrong side (not just me, the whole team and about 20 other people). In some ways, though, that was good. When the stun grenades were lobbed, they were thrown the other direction -- away from me. Same with the tear gas. All in all, two international folks were arrested; the soldiers remained on high alert, but once they felt in control again, it was fine. THAT'S when this picture was taken.

I admit that there was a bit of an adrenaline rush when all of the activity was going on; I didn't feel much of anything (no fear, no anxiety). Rather, I was reacting and responding to what was happening. When the action was over, my main concern was: where are my teammates? Let's regroup!