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A typical day in Sheikh Jarrah

JERUSALEM / I'm hit by a bucket of water, an apple, a rock. A glass bottle. A man turns the stereo fully on in my ear. I'm moving. I'm trying to write. A boy comes running and steals my pen. "Do you want coffee?" asks a man kindly. He throws me a cup.

There is only one thing that is easy in Sheikh Jarrah in East Jerusalem: finding the street everyone is talking about. The police are on the street corner. And if the police are not there, there is a man who coughs on you and claims he is covid-infected. Apart from this, it is Friday and demonstration day. To lead the protesters, we find Salah Dieb, who speaks fluent Hebrew even though he is Palestinian.

There is arguing, spitting, there is mouth-slapping and bullshit, pushing and shoving and the occasional blow with the Bible against a skull.

It looks like a regular demonstration. Maybe because it has been following the same recipe for years, every single week: No one has a weapon with,. . .

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Francesca Borri
Borri is a war correspondent and writes regularly for Ny Tid.

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