November 28, 2004 - Roadmap to Hospitality and Direct Action

Great to be back in At-Tuwani. I considered taking a settler bus down from Jerusalem to get here. Israel has constructed a network of Israeli-only roads throughout the West Bank in order to connect the settlements with mainland Israel, and in the process has divided up Palestine like a puzzle. Palestinians are not allowed to use the roads, or even cross them in many cases, hence the oppressive series of checkpoints and roadblocks that make travel difficult to impossible. Tuwani is right next to a settler road that would make the trip to Tuwani from Jerusalem less than a half hour, so we have considered trying to exploit our white privilege and get to Tuwani quicker. We normally go the Palestinian way which takes over three hours, four taxis, and a lot of walking. I’d like to say my decision to not take the settler bus was based in moral solidarity, but actually the Israeli bus company website said there wasn’t a bus going from Jerusalem to Ma’on (the settlement beside Tuwani) on Saturday. Fortunately Hafez, my best Palestinian friend from Tuwani, was up in Al Khalil (Hebron) today, so I arranged to meet up with him and head down to Tuwani together.

I always like going through Yatta to Tuwani with Hafez because he has lots of friends and family there. He took me to his brother’s house where we were fed lunch and plenty of tea and coffee. This is much better treatment than I would have gotten from the settler bus, where I would have hid my CPT cap in my bag and huddled in a corner afraid. Best case scenario, I would have gotten scowls when they learned I was headed to Tuwani, worst case scenario they may have attacked me like they have other members of our team here. So with a full belly and the warmth of hospitality, I did not regret my decision, especially when I found out a Palestinian had taken a tractor in the dead of night and unblocked the road to Tuwani.

No one will tell me just who did it, and its better that no one knows because they could be arrested and have their tractor confiscated. I do wish I could tell them how pleased I am with their action, not just because it is a brave and powerful act of resistance, but because now I don’t have to walk the mile in the mud from the roadblock into Tuwani. It is also nice that villagers can get to school, work, family, and the hospital much easier. We’ll pray that the soldiers don’t block it again for a while.

This consistent roadblock makes more sense in the context of the projected path of Israel’s Wall of Apartheid, annexation, separation, or occupation (take your pick). Tuwani and its surrounding villages are slated to fall on the Israeli side of the Wall. So if you think this roadblock is devastating, wait till these people are completely cut-off from the rest of their world, and trapped in a Bantustan technically inside Israel, but without any kind of citizenship. Hopefully the direct-action resistance of the late-night tractor driver will spread, and we will dismantle this Wall and the occupation it represents.

November 29, 2004 - Today I was sad.

The kids got to school all right this morning; the police actually let them ride in the jeep for once. We cleaned our house and napped for the morning and then met two Catalonian journalists who work for a Spanish newspaper. They called and asked to visit because they’re doing a story on Palestinian children and their hardships. I gave them a tour and took them to meet the school principal, and then waited for the children to get out of school. The police arrived shortly before the bell rang, and we walked up with the children to meet them. Usually we watch from a mountain across the valley, far from the children, police, and soldiers, but these journalists insisted on close-up shots, and I thought it’d be good for the soldiers and police to know that the media are still following this story.

The police tried to tell us we couldn’t take pictures, so one journalist discussed it with them while the other proceeded to photograph. It was very striking to be so close to the convoy. It is easy to forget how massive the jeeps and small the children are when looking from a mountain through binoculars. It’s also easy to forget how human they all are, the soldiers, the police, the children, and how devastating is this situation. As we watched them disappear over the mountain, one journalist commented that this is good training for the children, “They better get used to being surrounded by Israeli police, military, and settlers”. Guns on all sides I thought, and I was sad.

Today I played dress up.

After the children were home and we sent off the journalists, we were asked to help sort donated clothing. Ezra is a Jewish Israeli Ta’ayush activist who frequently visits Tuwani. He has been collecting old clothes from Israelis in order to give them to Palestinians. He said he even picks up the second-hand clothes from donations made for new Jewish immigrants to Israel. So the Palestinians get the second-hand of the second-hand, Ezra and I found this quite telling. We also find it ironic that Israelis continually steal Palestinian land, destroy their economy, and do the utmost to make life unbearable, and then donate their second-hand clothes to them.

Nevertheless, I got to play thrift-store worker, a position I’ve always dreamed of. We sorted the thirty bags of clothes into separate stacks for men, women, and children, and then made bags for families with some of each. They will be distributed to families in Tuwani and the surrounding villages, and I think they will like them. I found some things I liked.

A tractor?

In the evening we had lots of visitors, including around twelve children wanting help with their English homework. Saber also visited to inform us about a few things. He told us about a meeting the Civil (Military) Administration (CA) had with the principal of the Tuwani school last Saturday. The CA scheduled the meeting, he said, to talk about the Tuba children. It is obvious that this armed convoy is not a lasting solution to the problem. The CA suggested that people from the village could use a tractor to drive the children to school. The principal said, “Sure, we could do that, but a tractor is slow and very noisy and will bring many more settlers, so you will need several more military and police vehicles to protect them”. Apparently, the CA had no other brilliant ideas and cut the meeting off after twenty minutes.

I’m glad that they realize that this is armed escort is not a solution to settler violence. It seems pretty basic to me that the settlement outpost (from which all the violence has come) must be dismantled, and those who break the law by attacking, threatening, or harassing children should be brought to justice. This would be a solution. However, I fear that the next proposed solution will be something even more ridiculous. I joked that maybe Israel would send one of the Apache helicopters my tax dollars bought for them and airlift the children to school.

November 30, 2004

This morning we went out to watch the children as usual, and they were exceedingly late. After the military hummer saw them to school, they turned around and headed back towards us. One solder got out and asked us if we were CPT. This was an easy one, we told him we were. He said, “You go out and watch everyday”, and I said “Yes we know, we are there”, and I wondered if the conversation was going to get much better. We told him we just wanted to make sure the children were to school safely, and he said that isn’t necessary since they have it under control. We insisted that we should watch anyway, but thanked him for the escort. He said not to thank him, he’s only doing it because he’s ordered to. I asked how much longer he thought they’d do it, “As long as we’re ordered to” he said, and I knew the conversation was going nowhere. I directed the conversation else ware, and chatted about the northern Galilee where he’s from and about similarities between Arabic and Hebrew, etc. Eventually, he told us to have a good morning and we parted. I suppose it was an effort at intimidation, which failed miserably. But I was glad to know they notice us there, and that we are still making some efforts to get us to leave. We’ll see what happens after our tree planting action tomorrow.

In the afternoon we waited for the children to get out of school in order to ask them if settlers had bothered them that morning. As we waited, we saw an Israeli military jeep arrive followed by an Israeli civilian truck. We feared they might be settlers, but then we saw their large camera. We rushed over to talk to the camera crew and see that they get all the information. The three Israeli journalists brushed us aside and refused to even give us the time of day.

They said they were from Channel 2, which is a fairly mainstream Israeli news source and known to broadcast false and propagandistic information. It was clear that this group had been commissioned by the military to portray them in a positive light. They briefly interviewed Juma, the Palestinian who lives nearby, and he did everything he could to avoid saying something that could be skewed. Juma told them the settlers still harass and attack the children while the military watches, and that they are often late and unreliable. They interviewed the children who said the same thing, and then they proceeded on their way. This crew was the first one to be allowed to follow the convoy on the path to Tuba, the camera man road on the roof of their truck and nearly fell-off a few times on the bumpy road.

Later, Juma said he recognized the driver as a settler from Ma’on settlement, he said he’d seen the truck regularly in the settlement, and suddenly it all made sense. None the less, all media is good media right? The more Tuwani is in the news, the more people will have a frame of reference when we do outreach work. Let’s just hope that seeing two military jeeps escorting those five children will affect Israelis like it does me. 

We learned that on his way home from Yatta, Israeli soldiers detained our dear friend Hafez. They were waiting in a hummer next to the former roadblock. He kept walking as they hollered questions at him like “Where are you going?” and “Do you live in Tuwani?”. When they heard his last name and realized that he’s from an influential family, they demanded he stop and took his ID. Hafez speaks Hebrew, so he understood what was said when they radioed there commander. Hafez even recognized the commander on the radio as Ophier, with whom we’ve had several less-than-pleasant interactions and has no love for Hafez who shows no fear of his authority. Ophier told them to hold him for awhile, so Hafez got comfortable. He tried to call us but the soldiers forbid him to use his phone. After awhile, he asked if Ophier had told them to detain him, and they pretended they didn’t know how Ophier was. He told them he knew Ophier, and Ya’al (the commander higher than Ophier) and the soldiers were surprised. Shortly after that they let him go. I try to imagine if these soldiers were controlling a gate in the Wall that will go through this area, an hour delay will seem minimal.

December 1, 2004 - Seeds of Peace, Plows of Violence

Today we planted trees. In early September of this year, the Israeli military destroyed and uprooted olive trees on Saber’s land. Ma’on settlement is expanding in that direction and apparently they plan to take this land as well. We were there to document it the next day, but we’ve always wanted to do something more. A few weeks ago, our team planted 12 trees on the land, in preparation for a larger action. Today, we had a larger action.

CPT sends regular delegations to Palestine in order to introduce new folks to the conflict and to our work here. We try to include some sort of action in their itinerary, so we used the chance to plan a large tree-planting action. We connected with a YMCA program that provides trees to Palestinians and they agreed to donate some. First it was 60, then we it was 100, then the night before they said they’d bring 120. When the van arrived this morning, we unloaded 130 trees, and supplies for a security fence.

Within hours, 20 CPTers and CPT delegates, 5 members of the International Solidarity Movement (ISM), and several other internationals from various other organizations began planting. The rains had softened the ground and it was easier to dig this time, but it was still hard work. Saber’s family members also worked with us, including their 75-year-old mother Fatimah, whom I call Jidda (grandmother).

Towards the end we began gathering to have a blessing ceremony, and we heard shouting and saw Palestinian men running over the next hill. I followed instinctively and made sure others were close behind. Over the next hill, we came upon five settler boys who’d misread Isaiah and had beaten their plowshares into swords. They were plowing with a tractor near the settlement, and the Palestinians’ reaction made it clear to me that this was Palestinian land. In fact, it was Saber’s land and they were very angry. The four Palestinian men were quite larger than the young settler boys of 15 and 16, and it was obvious the settlers wanted to avoid a fight they knew they’d lose. They didn’t leave immediately however, and one spoke quite aggressively to the Palestinians, upsetting Saber so much that the others had to restrain him from punishing the young lad. It reminded me how much weight is carried by children in this conflict.

The tractor drove back into the settlement and the boys took refuge at the top of the hill; we all waited for the soldiers. They arrived within a few minutes and talked with the Palestinians. Settler security arrived as well, and we feared Saber might be arrested for his aggressive behavior toward the settler youth.

As we observed the mess of tension, Hafez brought out fresh olive bread the women had made especially for us. He passed it around and we broke bread together, munching as the situation died down and the soldiers left. We headed back to the site of the tree planting to finish our blessing. 

We gathered around a tree selected by Jidda, and Saber explained the meaning of the olive tree. It represents peace, life, and sustainability he said, all that is needed for the Palestinian people. The falling sun brought in the cold, and I still in my t-shirt. Granem, Saber’s brother, noticed my shivering and insisted I take his jacket. We took a moment to remember Sue Rhoads, a CPTer who passed away one year ago today, and then we sang.

We shall not, we shall not be moved

We shall not, we shall not be moved

Like a tree that’s planted by the water

We shall not be moved

Tears came to my eyes, and I smiled.

December 2, 2004 - Today I rode on a tractor, and then again, and then again.

This morning, we watched the children come to school without incident. On the way back a Tuwani farmer named Faadi drove up on his tractor and asked us to accompany him to his fields later that day. The area is close to the Israeli settlement and he feared settler violence, so we agreed and he gave us a ride back into town on his tractor. We showed up later that day to accompany him and he met us with a grim look. “Settlers are working in felids nearby and it’s too dangerous to work today” he said. So we hopped on his tractor again and rode back into town.

A few hours later, we headed out to watch the children go home from school. On our way, another tractor passed by and we hitched a ride (are you noticing a pattern to this day? Wait, it gets better). Turns out the driver of the tractor was from Yatta, spoke fluent English, and is studying to be a computer programmer. We again watched the children go home safely, but while we were watching another tractor game down the mountain. They stopped to see what we were doing, and we found out they were from Jimba. Jimba is a village in the South, very near the Green Line (the 1948 border Israel is trying to erase). Dianne, the CPTer with me, has visited Jimba frequently and was excited to talk to them. She began asking them names of people, all of whom they knew, until she got to Hajj al Isa, “I am him” the man in the trailer said. It turns out that CPT has had a relationship with him for some time. On this day, he was traveling to his house in Yatta, and we decided to bum a ride with him back into Tuwani. On the way, he insisted that we come with him to his house, and Dianne thought it’d be a good idea to maintain the relationship. I agreed, and off we were on the bumpy ride to Yatta.

I now have a new respect for Palestinians that travel regularly to Yatta by tractor, and for those forced to do so by Israeli road destruction. It was so long, windy, and uncomfortable, I barely thought I’d make it; I can’t imagine a sick person or pregnant woman making the journey. I was impressed that my 76-year-old partner Diane Roe climbed in and out without much trouble.

When we got to his home, he showed me the room the Israeli military shelled two years ago. His elderly mother had been praying in the room moments before the shelling, by the grace of God his son got her out just in time. They targeted him because of his involvement with a lawsuit against the Israeli military.

In 1999, the Israeli military evacuated several Palestinian villages in the south, including Jimba. This was supposedly for “their own safety” as the military wanted to turn the area into a shooting range and training ground, though somehow they didn’t need to evacuate the Israeli settlements in the area. The Israeli court ruled that Jimba and other village residents must be allowed to return, and CPT accompanied them on their return in 2000. This was one of very few times Israeli courts have ruled in the favor of Palestinians.

December 3, 2004

Now I’m in Al Khalil (Hebron) taking a break. I’m absolutely exhausted after several weeks of hyper drive. Cal and Maia, the other two main Tuwani folks and my two best friends on team are stuck in Jordan on an emergency project from the team in Iraq, so I’m feeling especially overwhelmed and lonely. Hopefully I’ll be able to rest up and get back to Tuwani soon. Hafez says that the village misses me when I’m gone, and I sure miss it. He came to visit me in Al Khalil today, and he told me I am like his brother. His youngest daughter Amira (which means princess) calls me Amni Yousef (Uncle Youself), and I know I am loved.