ABSTRACT
I returned to Munira’s house the day after Christmas for a large demonstration against the Wall. After a large meeting at the Mas’ha library to plan our action, we arrived at the Wall to find the soldiers waiting on the other side of the electric fence that makes up part of the cage around Munira’s house. A group of Palestinians, Israelis, and internationals—all wearing signs in Hebrew so the soldiers couldn’t pick out the Palestinians— approached the fence and shook it with all their strength. A few began to cut the fence with wire-cutters. I remember the tremendous rattling and shaking, the looks of Munira’s children who came outside their house to watch, and the adrenalin rush among the demonstrators, fueled by the noise. For a few moments, the people had taken back control.
