Anti-Israel protests in Malmo
(Video: Zeev Avrahami)
On the Copenhagen train to Malmo, there were no signs of the pro-Palestinian demonstration yet. I spoke with a Danish couple who lamented the disruption to their annual celebration. When the conductor arrived and requested tickets, mine fell from my pocket. He moved on without waiting. "If you were Sven or Danny, he would've cautioned you. They let you slide. Nothing happens to those who break the law."
Exiting at Malmo Central Station, it resembled Jenin. Flags were unfurled, elders with determination, and children in festive attire, stickers, and drums. Locals stood with placards mounted on wooden poles, bearing the inscription on both sides: "Boycott Israel." They led the crowds to the demonstration, like seasoned tour guides. The Swedes were organized.
I pulled out my phone and began snapping photos. After a few seconds, a woman around 60, dressed in a keffiyeh-patterned dress, her head covered with a Palestinian scarf, and her mouth masked with a Palestinian mask, jumped on me and demanded I stop photographing. I said we live in a democracy and in a public place, and she demanded I stop photographing and delete the picture. Her friends surrounded me, and she went to call the police. The officer said I was allowed to photograph. They followed me to the protest. It was a bit uncomfortable, but just uncomfortable.
She approached another officer and called several more people from the demonstration who started photographing me relentlessly. While they were putting a lot of pressure on me, she tried to convince the officer that it was forbidden to photograph her. A moment of absurdity within a stifling hatred. Chants rang out from all sides, songs of hatred for Israel and ardor for Palestine. From the sea to the river, but also from the river to the sea.
I went inside. Within minutes, she appeared, accompanied by seven or eight young Muslims with all the accessories. They demanded to see documents and prove that I wasn't Jewish or Israeli. I said I was Jewish and Israeli and I wouldn't give them the IDs. They surrounded me, and suddenly a blunt object hit me hard on the head. I crumbled down, put my hands on my head, and just looked for a way to escape. The Swedish officers protected only the perimeter of the occupied square and didn't intervene.
"From Malmo to Jenin, Palestine will be free," they chanted. I caught a few kicks and punches. I thought: either I retaliate and the police see who's returning it, or I let the wave pass.
Adrenaline masked the fear. The foolish pride and not apologizing for who I am and what I do, washed over the pain. I had several bruises, and hundreds of pictures of me circulated in WhatsApp groups. This too shall pass.