Olive Harvest

We were "on the road" 10/31 - 11/3. For two of those nights we stayed in hotels that were pretty empty. Tourism has really suffered here - which is most evident in Bethlehem. As we are coming into the holiday season, it is very strange to not see a lot of people in manger square.

On our way to Jenin, to visit the Palestinian Fair Trade Association (PFTA) and the Olive Harvest festival, we had to leave our bus and divide up between several vans. I think that the bus and driver did not have the 'proper' ID to travel in that area. The roads were insane and the drivers drove like it was the Audubon. One of the guys in the delegation was sitting up front with the driver and he was complimenting the driver on the music he was playing - it was a popular Palestinian artist. The driver then said "I like" as he put in a new tape. All of a sudden the van was filled with Hotel California (the live version). The lyric "You can check out, but you can never leave" took on a new surreal meaning.

In Berquin we saw where the fair trade oil is bottled and heard the story of the fair trade movement in Palestine. With the high unemployment rate due to the restrictions on movement, agriculture has a renewed importance in Palestinian life. After touring the facility we traveled to the Harvest Festival where the farmers were celebrating their efforts. It was an off year for the olives, made worse by the difficulty in accessing their land. The music was intoxicating and I even danced - but the stars of the night were Esther and Adam, two others from our group. The oddest moment was when one of the women asked if I spoke German.

We left the festival for our home stay families, and there was some confusion of who was going where. I am not sure if I ended up where I was supposed to be, but I ended up where I needed to be. On the way we stopped at olive processing plant, where the men were very proud to show us their work. When we arrived at the home where we were staying, I think everyone had already gotten ready for bed. But they were so gracious - the mother made tea and coffee and served cookies. Everyone in the house got up to talk with us - they were so interested in learning about us and in sharing their story. They had a lot of questions - I even took a stab at explaining American farm policy. The father (the local Fatah leader) had heard that in America we dump wheat into the sea. He also wondered how he can answer his friends when they say to him "Americans can go anywhere, why would they come here? - they must be spies". Later, after most everyone had turned in for the night, I had a very good conversation with the nephew Bakeer. He seemed to be really struggling with the "right" role for women. Earlier he had told us that all they wanted us to do when we returned home was to "Tell the truth - just tell the truth". I told him he had a job too, to tell the truth to the people he knows, that there are Americans that care, and aren't spies.

The next day we helped to harvest olives - though I question that we were much help. The family was most interested in talking with us and eventually we all ended up inside - the men on the back porch and the women inside. We met a couple of very charming sisters who delighted in sharing their English with us. This family had their own well, which we learned later was a rare thing. The father was very proud in offering us water to take with us when we left.

Later we learned more about PFTA and saw Jenin camp, where the Israelis had bulldozed homes and businesses in retaliation for suicide bombings (many bombers have come from Jenin and the "martyrs posters" were everywhere). We also took a trip to the martyrs’ cemetery and saw the Jenin horse which was constructed from cars demolished in the raid - even a portion of an ambulance was visible. That night we returned to Ramallah to stay at, yes, the Best Eastern (complete with an Olive Garden and Popeye's restaurants). I was lucky in getting my own room. I liked my roommate, but I was ready for some alone time. We had dinner with Jean Zaru, the clerk of Ramallah Friends meeting. It was good to hear about the work that they were doing. The next day we returned to Jerusalem.

Yalla Yalla

To anyone taking this kind of journey - I suggest take a couple of weeks out of "real life" after you return. Real life is jealous and guards its time against anything that would take you away from it. I feel guilty not devoting enough time to this "new life" but the old one, where so many responsibilities are, demands my attention. There are so many things I need to do, still; articles and letters I want to write, a presentation I need to finish and still yet more reading. Everyday more information floods in on this wonderful thing called the Internet.

Living Under Attack

On our second day we drove to Sderot where up to 50 Kassam rockets fall each day, launched by militants in Gaza. We had lunch at a café which provides opportunities for what we in the US would call Alternative Education. High school students that are having difficulty in school have an opportunity there to work and study outside of the traditional class room. In Sderot the drop out rate is very high – near 50%. This is – in part - due to the stress of life “under attack” but also because the population of Sderot is mostly later immigrants from eastern Europe, who have had a much more difficult time finding acceptance in the greater Israeli society.

Following lunch we met several members of the urban kibbutz Migvan. They spoke of their “seven years of hell” living with daily rocket attacks. But most astonishing was their lack of anger at Gazans in general. They understood (better than many we met later, who did not have that direct experience) that not only did the militants launching the attack not represent the broader population of Gaza, but also that the occupation creates the situation where people feel that violence is their only voice. One woman spoke quietly of her despair, “I am living in Sderot for 20 years. I never lost empathy with the other side. I find myself unable to sleep, not because of the kassams but because of the Israeli army. For a time they bombed 24 hours a day. They committed crimes. Sometimes I feel ashamed of what the occupation has made of the Israeli State.”

Later we were taken by Coby Harush, the military officer in charge in Sderot, to an overlook where we could not only see the northern border of Gaza, but also how close it is to Sderot. As we stood there Coby received word that a kassam and several mortars had been fired, but toward an area not near us. We later found out that the mortars did not make it outside of Gaza and the Kassam fell in a field away from any population.

As we were looking toward Gaza, greenhouses and homes were visible, but they fall with in the “no-go” zone. This is an area of several kilometers where Gazans are not allowed for “security reasons”. We could also see the listening posts and a couple of drones with listening equipment overhead. One of the targets of the missile attacks is the power plant at the northern border. Even the young woman who earlier had been very sympathetic to the Gazans was mystified at why they would bomb the source of power. She did not understand that the “power” the militants were objecting to was the power of the Israelis to use electricity as a tool of control.

Earlier, on our way to Sderot we stopped at Erez Crossing which had been the major point of entry into Israel for Gazan laborers. With the closure of the border by Israel, Erez was eerily quiet and the guards seemed bored. After leaving Erez a couple of Blackhawk helicopters flew over, heading toward Gaza. Our guide, very matter of fact, said “Someone will die today.” When we arrived back at the hotel we found out that in fact an insurgent and 4 civilians had been killed.

Day 1 - 10/30/07

October 30^th was our first full day in the West Bank. We spent the first half of the day with the Israeli Committee Against House Demolitions (ICHAD). We were taken on a tour of Palestinian neighborhoods in and around Jerusalem and of areas where Israeli settlements have been built / expanded or are planned. These settlements (which are illegal under international law and sometimes even Israeli law) are built on land confiscated from Palestinians. A myriad of arbitrary and confusing regulations and permitting systems are used to take the land. We also learned how restrictions on movement and lack of services are used to ‘encourage’ Palestinians to leave their homes.

Most striking to me was the planned development of Nof Zion; it is a project of an American developer. Even though construction of new settlements is prohibited, there is a billboard advertising the settlement with a phone number for the American sales office. There is also a project map that shows the layout of the new community, including condos, a country club, and shopping malls and supporting infrastructure.

We also saw Ma’ale Adumin. It is an Israeli settlement that is slated to be the largest city in Israel (it is located within the West Bank and its charter extends nearly all the way to the Jordan River). While most of the West Bank is struggling with water shortages, Ma’ale Adumin has lush green landscaping and swimming pools. An Israeli prison has been built just beyond the settlement. Of course there are wide roads, sidewalks and other supporting infrastructure.

We also had our first “up-close” visit to the Wall. It is huge, it is ugly, it is omnipresent - there is no escape from it. Much of the wall is twice the height of the Berlin wall. Calling it a wall just isn’t adequate. I have walls in my house but they divide room from room – not friend from friend.

After lunch Ray Dolphin, UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs, explained the system of closures and checkpoints within the West Bank used by the Israeli government to control the movement of Palestinians. The majority of checkpoints are inside the West Bank. It is impossible to make an appointment with any certainty of being on time – it could take minutes or hours to get through the checkpoints between you and your destination. Of course there are Jewish only lanes through checkpoints and roads that enable the settlers to avoid the “inconvenience”.

Later we walked to the old city. It is hard to describe the sights and the smells. It was sensory overload, but we were very rushed as we went through the city so it was hard to absorb anything. I was sure that if I went back that I would not be able to find my way around. Luckily I had taken my GPS with me and I was able to mark several areas around the city – this proved to be a good idea later in the trip.

With several others, I spent some time at the Western Wall after we finished our tour. I had very mixed feelings about being there. I am not sure if it was because of the separation of the men from the women (isn’t that one of the thing Moslems are criticized for?); or if it was that the wall is venerated as a holy place by people that are using a wall to control a whole population. After what I had seen that day, it was a strange irony. I had expected to feel more awe in a place of such history, but all I felt was sad.

America, which is less than 300 years old, is a land of mobility. Most of us have moved several times before graduating from high school. As a culture, we do not understand the strong emotional tie to the land the Palestinians feel. I stayed with a family near Bethlehem that can trace their family’s connection to that land over 400 years. Much like the lament of Native Americans pushed onto reservations, we heard Palestinians ask “the land is like our mother; how can you sell your mother?”

This must not become just a memory!

Well I am back, safe and sound. I have been spending the last week trying to figure out how to integrate what I know now, and how to go forward. I feel a sense of urgency, and a feeling of ‘displacement’ – a sense of being out of place and out of time that has nothing to do with jet lag. I have the strong urge to run up to perfect strangers and tell them “You need to know what I know!!”, but I do not want to be arrested or committed, so I don’t. Prior to leaving I said I felt like I had two jobs – my real job and the job of getting ready to go. I still feel like I have two jobs - my real job and the job (the responsibility) to tell everyone the story – the truth that is Palestine. I am afraid that I will let down all the people I met there, that just asked us to tell the truth. But there is so much to tell.

I think I will start with general impressions that I have taken away from the experience. Then in further posts I will go through our itinerary to give you a deeper look at what I saw.

The first thing I should say is that although I am not optimistic for the future of Palestine, I am hopeful. Jean Zaru, the clerk of the Ramallah Friends Meeting differentiates hope from optimism this way – optimism is based on facts; hope is based on faith. And the people I met are filled with faith and hope. There is also a sadness that is inescapable, and of course anger. But the people I met have found a way to move beyond that and try and cultivate hope for their community. So how can I be anything but hopeful?

With that said, the “two state solution” is all but dead. It is not possible to see the facts on the ground, to read the maps, to experience the military presence, to navigate the maze of ‘walls’, fences and checkpoints and the “Israeli only” infrastructure with out knowing that the Israeli government never intends to leave the occupied territories.

It is hard to watch the news now that the West Bank is so familiar to me. Someone that I met in Bi’lin has been arrested. I fear what Annapolis will bring. The rumors we heard while in the West Bank have broken into the American media – that the Israeli government is planning for a crackdown after the talks. And America continues to sleep.

Truth to Power

It has been several days since I have had the opportunity to write. In that time I have experienced such a wide range of emotions – it has been a very fast rollercoaster ride. I have seen the prison that the West Bank is, I have listened to very angry Palestinians (some who are committed to non-violent resistance, some who push that boundary), I have been to the Martyrs Cemetery in Jenin Refugee Camp, experienced openly hostile students at Birziet University and ate lunch with students that were so happy that we had come to see them. I have waded in the Mediterranean, listened to Quakers that are facilitating amazing projects with Palestinian youth, stayed at the home of a Fattah leader and his family (including a nephew with Hamas sympathies who wanted an explanation of US farm policy). I have cried at the Friends meeting house in Ramallah and protested at the Mukata as Condoleezza Rice was preparing to leave (timing is everything!). I cried with the Palestinian Coordinator of Combatants for peace, whose ten year old daughter was shot in the head by an Israeli soldier less than six months ago and I was amazed by his continuing commitment to non-violence. I have listened to and questioned the representative of the Hebron Settlers movement (fascism exits everywhere that hate lives), received a better understanding of the area’s history from members of the Christian Peacemakers Team and had tea with a Hebron family that lives with the harassment from the settlers. I have had the experience of walking through the Qualandia checkpoint and “zooming” along very bad roads and brand new Israeli only bypass roads. I have debated the boundaries of non-violence with other delegation members (I seem to hold the minority view) and the value (or lack of) of “anarchist” tactics in non-violent resistance. I have maps and books and pictures and information overload. Some moments give me great hope – the young man that after being beaten by soldiers decided that his resistance would be gathering children of the village and painting peace – love on their faces while Israeli soldiers watched. Some have left me shaken and sad – the university students (Israeli and Palestinian) that are so angry they can not / will not talk to each other. The next three days promise to be just as intense, but then soon I will be home and left to figure out how to integrate this knowledge and these thoughts into my life, and how to bring the truth to people that don’t want to hear it.

The End of the Road

The "security wall" is not about security at all. The systematic appropriation of Palestinian land, separates Palestinian from Palestinian, not Palestinian from Israeli and continues to make the Palestinians invisible to the Israeli population. This section of the wall crosses the Jericho road, cutting off access to the main route to Jericho, within Palestinian territory.

Today we will be visiting areas of the West bank away from Jerusalem, and I will not be able to post until we return on Saturday.