How I Came Face To Face With Palestinian Nonviolent Resistance.


This compressed, rundown Arab village with roots that date back thousands of years to the biblical prophet Zachariah, now surrounded by a dozen gleaming Jewish settlements, may not appear like an obvious place to witness Palestinian nonviolent resistance.

But it is there, if you look and listen carefully.

It’s in the low-slung, trailerlike building that functions as a community school, even though it is stifling hot in the summer and often drenched with rain in the winter. In the compact grocery store run by a few enterprising women and lit by solar panels — an incongruous sight against the scruffy landscape. In the tall, cone-shaped tree where villagers have affixed a speaker to broadcast the call to prayer, because the Israeli authorities wouldn’t allow them to complete a nearby minaret whose jagged, unfinished exterior reaches half-heartedly into the sky.

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