"I have three places from Jerusalem", "We are coming from Makdum, where exactly do we start?", "We are coming from Mitir, who wants to join?".
Like the whole world and its pajama party, Order 9 members also organize themselves in WhatsApp groups for the daily operation: reaching the Kerem Shalom checkpoint.
The stated goal - blocking the aid trucks that Israel brings into the Gaza Strip.
Last week, the organization leaped from obscurity into the headlines when it succeeded in blocking the entry of trucks into the Strip.
Those who wondered about the organization, discovered a wall in an all-Israeli way as written on Facebook: "We reiterate and emphasize: We are not a political body and do not belong to one camp or another. Dear people from the right and the left share with us in this movement, residents of the city, the kibbutz and the village, reservists who were released, families Fighters, evacuated civilians, and above all, the families of the martyrs who fell in the battles, and in contrast to the families of the abductees who will soon return. Here is created a special and moving unity of a people that has risen from the dust and says with determination: 'No aid will pass until the last of the abductees returns.' And we emphasize that we are not acting in any way with violence against the dear members of the security forces, and not be dragged into political calls from any side."
To understand what it looks like from the inside, I drive on Monday to the daily starting point: the parking lot next to the gate of Kibbutz Magen.
The deeper I go into the bruised envelope area, the more tragic each shield becomes.
Gunshot marks etched into the concrete as opal paintings, next to them is a Zaka "Winner" sticker, and below them is Gilad commemorating those who were murdered here.
Nega Alfasi the niece of Mia Goren who was murdered in captivity and her body is in the hands of Hamas - at the Kerem Shalom crossing
Upon entering the kibbutz I hope to meet the men of the order, but in retrospect it turns out to me that these are veterans and veterans of the brigade.
The graduates of the public struggles against Oslo and disengagement, with their children and even their grandchildren's generation, came to protest the government's policy.
I look for the leaders of the movement, and find only more and more convinced people and supporters of the idea, who park at the entrance to Kibbutz Magen and emerge from their cars.
"We come from Makdumim, the first Jewish settlement in Samaria," says Shush Shila.
"What outpost are you from, hill boys?"
Sheila wonders at some boys with long wigs and beards.
"From Ramat Gan", they answer.
"Good," she says with almost disappointment.
Rivka Darmon smiles and introduces herself and her family: "We are Mitir, the first Jewish settlement in the south of Mount Hebron."
"Good, beautiful, South Mount Hebron, young people," concludes Sheila.
"Shush, how good you came!"
One of the activists glares at her, "We will put you at the head of the demonstration in front of the soldiers. You will start telling them the history of the ancients, and they will surely let us pass."
Everyone is smiling, including Sheila.
Aren't you hurt by that?
I ask her later.
"Ma Fat-Om", she smiles, "Ha-Kel L-To-Ba", she breaks down the Hebrew into its basic syllables.
The land of Israel was bought through suffering and excavations.
The convoys leave every hour.
Until it arrives, Oved and Oral from the Golan Heights go up to the booth at the entrance to the kibbutz with a guitar and a flute.
Together they are looking for the appropriate scale for Ariel Zilber's "And How Not".
A messy jeep leaves the kibbutz and stops next to us.
A bearded head emerges from it, "What are you doing here?".
"A social gathering," one of the women answers him.
"Well, it doesn't look like a social gathering, I'm sure you're up to something."
Sheila and a friend approach him for a conversation that begins with an amusing investigation of the Jeepnik, but very quickly degenerates into a discussion of who is to blame for the October 7 default - Bibi, the army or the disengagement.
When I try to take a picture of the heated discussion, the bearded man shouts: "You are not allowed to take pictures, we are from intelligence..."
"One more intelligence like this and we're lost," says one of the women as the jeep pulls away, "such a fool, unable to see what's in front of his eyes, still trapped in the concept of October 6 as if nothing has changed."
Yoram Gaon and Taylor Swift
Meanwhile, the cars multiply.
A large truck approaches along the perimeter road of the kibbutz.
One of the women wants to stand in the middle of the road and block her.
"This is the kibbutz's factory truck, not Hamas's," those present make it clear to her.
"You have to practice something," she replies.
There is no time to check if she is serious or joking, as WhatsApp announces that the convoy is getting ready to go to the checkpoint.
As an example from last week, the commanding general issued an order declaring the checkpoint area a closed military area.
But orders separately and crooked ways separately.
The convoy starts driving, passes between abandoned settlements, and very quickly descends from the roads into agricultural fields, dirt roads, perforated concrete, mud and puddles.
"After that, all the cars in the convoy will have to go to the front," observes the hitchhiker I took with me.
"Even the state," reflects his friend.
"We are traveling like on the road from Burma to Jerusalem," reports the hitchhiker on the phone.
A turning soldier demonstrates in Kerem Shalom, photo: none
Some Thais are repairing greenhouse sheets torn in the storm, stop their work for a moment and look in amazement at the long convoy of cars.
A twist and another twist, a puddle and another swamp, after about half an hour of driving we finally emerge on the main road.
A look to the north reveals that all this detour is to bypass the intersection that the police cars are blocking by a few hundred meters.
But the joy of the sneaks is too early.
A police jeep quickly emerges and blocks the intersection we arrived at.
"Guys and girlfriends, this is a closed military area, don't go any further," announces the megaphone.
As an experiment, supporters of Order 9 get out of the cars and start arguing with the police.
"Why are you stopping us from crossing, and not stopping the trucks entering Hamas?".
And Adi "The last name is not important, write from Tel Aviv, so they know it's not just settlers," shouts out loud: "I don't think ever in the history of the country have security forces been sent to do something they don't want to do so much."
The look in the eyes of the policemen is opaque, but by the end of the day, their conduct will show that he was right.
The intersection is filled with the joy of a protest carnival.
Israeli flags are flying, many of them are tied with an orange secession ribbon.
The ghost of 2006 will accompany us all day.
Some will call it a sin, others will say madness.
Shush Sheila shows off a small bag she kept from before the cleansing.
One of the mothers takes a stroller out of the car, and a cute little boy is pulled out of the vehicle and driven towards the intersection.
The Helloline sparrow pulls out a box with juggling accessories and starts the show.
Some of the members of Order 9 sit on the side of the road and begin to sing, a girl takes cardboard boxes out of the vehicle and hands out croissants to the police and members of the Bedouin GDSAR, who join in guarding the demonstrators. The goal - that none of the carnival members cross the intersection.
"No, no, you won't beat me," shouts the voice of Yoram Gaon from one of the cars.
Taylor Swift sneaks up behind him to celebrate musical eclecticism.
At the intersection, a discussion begins about the successful pop star and the price of her concert tickets.
"My daughter found tickets in Germany, I said to her 'Germany? Are you sure it's there?'
But since October 7, everything has turned around. Suddenly the Germans are in our favor, and I'd rather see Taylor Swift there than anywhere else."
From a distance I notice that the police are leading detainees between the vehicles.
Later it will become clear that four of the organizers were arrested and taken away from the place, but the people who gather don't care.
You can arrest the protest leaders, not the idea
The members of the GDSAR are called to another intersection where another convoy of Order 9 supporters has arrived. Just before they leave, Shiloh and Dorit Sukar, also from the front, thank the soldiers: "Thank you for watching over us!
Good job!
Fight the enemy well," they emphasize. When the jeep disappears, a host of panting media photographers arrive. Although there are no real organizers, the supporters of the decree know very well how to function, and model singing in public and blocking a joyous intersection. The police watch them indifferently. After a few minutes of singing "No aid goes through until every abductee returns," it turns out that all this commotion is nothing more than a sophisticated diversionary exercise. While the carnival at the junction is noisy, two members of the group took advantage of the commotion, sneaked through the fields on the right, bypassed the checkpoint and are already running forward with the Israeli flag proudly raised A strange tactic, I think to myself, as the Bedouin GDSAR men quickly reach the intersection and start chasing the flag bearers.
After a few minutes of winter running in the mud of the fields, the flag bearers are caught and brought back to the intersection.
Only then does it become clear that it was a diversion for the sake of diversion: while the police were busy with the intersection carnival and the GDSAR personnel with the flag issues to the right of the intersection, a large part of Order 9 supporters went to the left of the intersection, bypassed the base, reached the sides of the Kerem Shalom checkpoint, and are now sending instructions on WhatsApp on how to get there.
The sign has fallen, the policemen remain to guard the empty intersection.
Supporters of order 9 leave the place and start walking in the fields to the left.
At the head of the procession walks the heloline sparrow, still from the jungle, followed by media photographers with cameras and tripods, followed by a host of families and children.
"Well," one of the mothers asks her daughter, "so where is more fun, here or at school?".
"Of course here," the daughter replies.
"And will you tell them about it tomorrow at school?"
makes it difficult for the mother.
"I won't tell them anything," the daughter replies.
"Why?"
wondering whether
"Because tomorrow I'm here again," the daughter exults.
"Is there a mole among us?"
The road twists and turns, going up and down in sandy fields, but after a few twists and turns you can see the border of Egypt.
The horizon line is marked by a convoy of dozens of trucks loaded to the brim with goods awaiting inspection before entering through the checkpoint into the Strip.
"Brar, brar," a Bedouin soldier calls to me from afar, signaling me to go that side of the hill, not in the direction of the trucks.
"What is brrrr?"
Wonders the one walking beside me in the golden enveloping fields, "What does he think we are? A flock of sheep?!"
When we leave the field, it turns out that the access road to the checkpoint has become the parking lot of the Israel Police.
Along a long, narrow piece of road leading to the border crossing, dozens of police and MGB vehicles are parked. Suddenly it is clear that all the roadblocks up until now have been a teaser for beginners. This is where the real thing begins, and the enormous power that has been accumulated here makes it clear that the state is determined to allow trucks to pass through.
From a distance I notice that the police are leading detainees between the many vehicles.
Later on WhatsApp it will become clear that four of the organizers and field coordinators were arrested and taken from the place.
"Is there a mole among us?"
wonders someone, others burst out laughing innocently.
But for the people who gather in the field, it doesn't change anything.
You can arrest the protest leaders, not the idea.
Blocking a truck at the entrance to the road to Gaza, photo: None
Even in good times, the Kerem Shalom crossing looks like a Batunda fortress from an Iraqi war movie.
High barrier stones form a concrete wall on the road itself, on which metal fences are spread.
Behind the fences stand dozens of soldiers from the MGB. Behind them are armed soldiers, and among them policemen roam. Supporters of Order 9 are stationed in the field next to the crossing. In the southern part of the field are lines of policewomen and soldiers making sure that no one approaches the fence and the line of trucks.
A considerable part of the supporters of Order 9 come from the religious-nationalist sector, but really not only, as the media try to portray them.
In the field you can also find ultra-Orthodox and secular people, motorcycle people in Harley Davidson suits, an old couple with curly hair holding a big flag.
Someone is carrying things through a megaphone, but the field is also buzzing with possible futures - "Brother, there is a stunning woman here from the tribe in... come, I want you to meet her," says a guy named "Rabino" to a young redhead with wild hair and a big cap.
Are you one of the organizers?
I ask him.
"Just arranging a third of heaven for me", he smiles enigmatically and disappears into the crowd.
At the edge of the field I see a bearded man with an open computer and an Israeli flag that serves as a shield.
I'm sure he's from the communications department of Order 9, but when I approach him I find that he's in the middle of a Zoom meeting with his colleagues from the US.
Danger: flour and sugar
One truck leaves the inspection and passes into Gaza in front of the wide eyes of the people in the field.
This provokes boos, and in the meantime we get a lesson in chemistry from the megaphone man: "Comrades and friends, these trucks, which carry flour and sugar ostensibly for humanitarian aid, in reality when you mix sugar and flour with fertilizer, you get an explosive used by Hamas. The one who inspected the trucks on October 6 is this which is tested on October 8. And I ask you, do you trust him?"
The crowd gets enthusiastic and starts singing: "More flour equals another cook" and "UNRA is Hamas".
The media photographers are trying to capture the moment, a media-conscious protester notices them and rushes back to get the field boys from their camp: "Guys, there's no way to do this! Get up, move forward, stick to the barrier, so that the media won't look poor and they'll say we're an illusory minority. Come on, Come on, it's not a picnic!"
With demonstrable reluctance the boys begin to get up from their camp, but at that moment the soldiers from the hill come down to them and try to move them on command, the boys exchange smiles and go back to lying on the ground.
I meet a policeman acquaintance, who expands: "Between us, wow, these guys are the most right! Who's crazy to deliver aid trucks to the enemy during a war? And certainly when there are abductees in Gaza. Does it go to the abductees? To the refugees? It would have helped us in The Hague, but in the end they come to us in claims"
At the edge of the event, cautious as if hesitating, stands a young woman in a shirt from Kibbutz Nir Oz with a photo of an abductee hanging around her neck.
On the side it is written in marker: Murdered in captivity by Hamas, her body is still in Gaza.
"Are you from the headquarters of the kidnapped?"
It is repeatedly asked by the media and supporters of Order 9. It seems that everyone wishes to tie the struggles together.
"I am a member of a family," the young woman answers enigmatically.
Does not want to be identified by name, but admits that she came to support: "Kudos to them for what they are doing, it is the right thing to do right now. Both they and the abductees are doing everything they can to bring them home, each in their own way, and that is what is important."
Meanwhile, another truck enters the long and tedious process of inspection.
Outside, the soldiers receive lunch, the field men sit down, coffee kits are pulled out of their backpacks, cigarettes are rolled while talking.
"Rabino" again emerges from the front lines to challenge the young people.
This time we turn our faces to Jerusalem, and begin to pray Mencha.
The soldiers stand beside them with folded arms and stern looks, but up close you can see that their lips are moving, secretly going to prayer.
"Let them go block the ministers"
I walk over to the barrier to get a better look.
Very quickly you discover that as long as you don't go beyond the boundaries of the section set for you, the soldiers don't really care.
An ex-Soviet soldier advises an ex-Ethiopian reservist on how best to photograph his Japanese car so that it can be sold - "Take a picture from below on the side, and take a picture of it in a beautiful view, so that it looks impressive. Shoot it, and come on, move on."
Time is pressing and the balance of power is clear, protesting inferiority and everyone knows it.
The way out of the field is much easier.
There is no longer any need to pretend that the game of catch continues.
I walk on the main road between the police cars without getting in the way.
One of the policemen explains on the phone that he will not be able to arrive early today - "What will I do? As long as they are here, we are here."
At the end stands a young woman in a Kibbutz Nir Oz shirt with a photo of a kidnapped woman.
"Are you from the headquarters of the kidnapped?"
she is asked.
"I am a member of a family," the young woman answers enigmatically.
I don't want to be identified by name
At the end of the road I meet a policeman acquaintance, who elaborates: "Obviously it's a game, we block, they overtake, we block, they overtake, and we block. And between us, voila, these guys are the most right! Who's crazy to deliver aid trucks to the enemy during war? And sure When inside Gaza there are also abductees. And what are they transferring for? Does it go to the abductees? To the hungry? To the refugees? Check that Hamas steals all the trucks for themselves. And not only that, it would have helped us in The Hague, but in the end they come to us with complaints.
"But I don't understand the protesters either. What are we doing here, what we want? This is the government with the most settlers, full right. So instead of blocking the passage, let them go block the ministers, or Biden who dictates everything here At the end of the day, the demonstrators pester us to chase them in the fields, as if we have nothing better to do right now. Let's not forget that it's dangerous here and Hamas can easily reach us, and we can all be hurt at any moment. The big problem is that every day we're here, it's another day that the criminals do whatever they can on their opinion within the country."
On the way back to the intersection, the words of the megaphone man echo in the distance: "Friends, today we are few, but get out of here, broadcast to all your family and all your friends who will come here tomorrow, who will come the day after tomorrow, because if there are a thousand people here, they will no longer be able to stop us And we will block the trucks."
When I reach the intersection, I see that supporters of Order 9 are flocking in groups and families to the checkpoint openly and on the road.
I wonder when the game of catch will reach a critical mass, and the swarm of people that will reach the barrier will prove the truth of Victor Hugo's words that "there is nothing more powerful than an idea whose time has come".
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