Waiting for nightfall - and a fight

Two Acre brothers insist the hostility from the Jewish side is nothing more than self-defense.

By ABE SELIG
acre patrol 224.88 (photo credit: AP)
acre patrol 224.88
(photo credit: AP)
As an eerie calm hung over the streets of Shikun 3 - a blue-collar neighborhood in east Acre that has borne the brunt of much of the recent rioting between Arab and Jewish residents - Yossi and his brother David sat in the courtyard of their home, smoking a nargila and waiting for the sun to go down. "Listen," Yossi said, as he sat on a chair in sweatpants and a t-shirt. "We were born here, we grew up here, and there are Arabs that have lived with us in this neighborhood for a long time. We have no problem with them, but what's happened here in the last few days has been unacceptable. Of course we're going to fight back." Saying they had felt under attack during the violent confrontations in recent nights, the brothers insisted that the hostility from their side was nothing more than self-defense. They said their friends, using cellphones and SMS, had mobilized to protect the neighborhood, mounting what they saw as a counterattack to a violent and unnecessary instigation. "We don't want any trouble," David said. "But this is our home, and we're going to protect it, no questions asked. I don't know what's going to happen tonight. But if they come back, we'll be ready." However, the two also fit into a larger picture in Acre. Young, unemployed and not in school on this particular Sunday afternoon, the two are part of this city's growing population of young men suffering from an 18-percent unemployment rate and slumping local economy. Yossi and David said many of their friends saw their Arab neighbors as provocateurs who had done the unthinkable by driving into the Shikun on the eve of Yom Kippur, blasting music and looking for a fight. But the brothers will also be the first to lament the situation, as both agreed that it was sure to hurt the city's economy that much more. "The [Alternative Theater] Festival is going to be canceled now," Yossi said. "And if you thought nobody was coming to Acre before, just wait. Now no one's going to come at all." At a local kiosk down the street, a middle-aged cashier watched the news on her TV set, as pictures from the previous night's violence flashed across the screen. "Look, there's Shimon," she laughed, pointing at a man being handcuffed by police on the screen. "No, that's not him, but it looks like him, right? "But you know," she continued, "This was really a pogrom that happened here. My car was the only one on the block that didn't get smashed." Outside, a few older men sat around, watching the street as they sipped bottles of beer. "What can I tell you?" one of them said. "This has been a long time coming. It's been cooking in the oven for years." A teenager walked by with a fresh bandage on his arm. "It needed to happen, though," the older man continued. "The pressure has been building, people are out of work and tension is high. I don't know if it's over yet, either." But if it is, he said, "it won't be the last time something like this happens."