Last Day in Jerusalem

Market Scene in Old City, Jerusalem

I’m writing this on my last day in Jerusalem.  Tomorrow at this time I will, Inshalla, be airborne, en route to Newark, NJ (and then on to Washington, D.C.)

I will have undergone a security check at Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv that, I’m told, could range from routine to intensive (complete with strip-search and having my carefully-packed bag completely dismantled!).  We actually spent an hour yesterday, talking about the possible “scenarios” surrounding the airport “experience,” so that nothing would take us by surprise.

I’m told that my age takes me out of the “profile” of people who get the full treatment – generally it's reserved for people under 30 and/or “people of color.”  Still, I’m also told it's random – they may question me because of the length of time I have been here, or because something “suspicious” is in my luggage (a box of wineglasses from the factory in Hebron?  an olivewood camel?).

But today I had the gift of time – of being unfettered by schedules to enjoy this last day in the warm Jerusalem sunshine.

Tea at Austrian Hospice

I walked through the Old City one final time, breathing in the aroma of spices while watching my feet on the slippery cobblestones.  I sipped tea and ate apple strudel while enjoying the garden of the Austrian Hospice.  I watched the bustle of people make their way through the narrow, crowded streets and thought about how lucky I’ve been to be able to experience this wonderful place over the past several months.

Tonight I will join two Americans – one a former EA serving here with the UCC church, the other a United Methodist missionary – at the Church of Scotland, where they conduct a monthly “contemplative” service.  Later, we will dine together, and talk about our visions for this troubled place.

When I return to Portland, I will share my stories with all who will listen – individuals as well as organized groups.  And I will continue to write about the Palestine that I have come to know and love in my three months here. Maybe not as often, and maybe with a different focus, but, rest assured, you will be able to continue following my posts through my “re-entry” to my “real life” and with my advocacy.

A Journey through Jerusalem

Inshalla, I will return to Palestine (if I’m not “blacklisted” on my way out!).  I’d like to bring a group here – show them why they should care about the fate of the Palestinian people and about the United States’ role in perpetrating the illegal occupation of their land. 

And I hope that those of you who have been reading, will think about making your own journey.  It doesn’t have to be for three months – but it should include more than the “usual” Israeli tourist spots.  But a warning – once you have seen the Wall, once you have talked to the people who live behind it, your life will be changed forever!!

The Families Left Behind

On April 4, two young men were killed by Israeli soldiers very close to where I live in Tulkarm.  [See 4 April blog post, “A Shooting in Anabta”].  The “story” of this shooting spread much further than is usual when incidents of this sort happen in Palestine.  Reports appeared in both European and US media outlets, as well as throughout the Middle East.  Some of you may have seen them.

As is often the case with media, reports of the “facts” can vary widely – and, from the perspective of those of us here on the ground, much of what was reported as “fact,” was either distorted or just plain false.  Nevertheless, the purpose of this posting is not to “correct” what you may have already seen or read, but rather to tell you a bit more about the two boys who were killed – and about the families they left behind.  

Najih Bilbasih

Najih Bilbasih was 19 years old.  He left school at 17 because his father was ill and, as the oldest son, he was responsible for supporting his family.  He worked as a gardener and, in his free time, enjoyed tending his family’s garden.

Najih's youngest brothers

He had four younger brothers, ranging in age from 5 ½ to 18.  The night of the “incident” that left Najih and his cousin, Amier Nasar, dead, they and two friends took a walk to the outskirts of Anabta, to the Enav checkpoint, a wide place in the road monitored by soldiers who rarely left their sentry tower.

Did the four young men throw stones, as their families and one of the survivors claim, or did they throw “Molotov cocktails,” as the Israeli army claims?  Either would be foolish, but neither demands retribution in the form of what Najih’s mother calls “murder.”

“They were shot in cold blood,” she says.  “They were running and Najih was shot in the back from two meters.  They meant to kill him.”

 

Amier was shot in the heart, also at close range.  “They (the soldiers) could have shot in the arm or leg to stop them and arrest them.  They didn’t have to kill them!” cried the grieving mother and aunt.

Enav Checkpoint

Of the two surviving young men, one was arrested at the scene and has been in detention ever since.  As is usual in such cases, neither family nor lawyer has been allowed to see him and, in fact, his family was not even told where he was.  Three weeks after the shooting the International Red Cross was finally allowed to visit him.

The fourth young man escaped the solders and went to the Tulkarm hospital, where he was treated for his wounds.  Upon his release from the hospital, he, too, was arrested and remains in custody in an undisclosed location.

 

Najih enjoyed tending his family's garden

And what of the soldiers who shot them?  Also young men – probably about the same age as the victims – puffed up on the pride of wearing a uniform and the sturdy American-made M-16s that they carried.  Do they feel regret?  Sadness?  Or, as many believe, were they lauded – even promoted – for “killing another Arab terrorist?”

In Anabta, the mourning and the questions continue.

Organic Farming in the Shadow of the Wall

Organic farmer Fayez Taneeb

Fayez and Mouna Taneeb are farmers who are making a difference.  When we caught up with them at their organic farm on the outskirts of Tulkarm, Fayez was preparing for a month-long trip to Europe.  There he will give workshops on “One Million Trees,” a project that will educate the Europeans on the difficulties faced by Palestinian farmers, while raising money to plant trees to replace ones that have been uprooted by wall construction and burned by settler violence.

A long-time peace activist, Fayez is a leader in Palestinian Popular Struggle, an organization that works to find creative, non-violent ways to demonstrate the difficulties faced by Palestinians.

But, first and foremost, Fayez is a farmer.  The 53 durhams (a durham is 1,000 meters by 1,000 meters, or about ¼ of an acre) where his organic greenhouses sit is far less land than his ancestors farmed for generations.  He inherited the land when his father died in 1985, but was in jail (for his activism) at that time, so the land sat vacant.

Mouna Taneeb in "Mouna's Garden"

In his absence, the Israeli army moved into an abandoned (formerly British) army camp next door and began to use the farm as a sports field.  When Fayez and Mouna married in 1986, they decided to farm the land.  But the soldiers’ play damaged irrigation pipes and destroyed plants, and the Taneebs struggled.

Fayez was arrested again in 1987, at the start of the first Intifada.  As is all too common in Palestine, he spent a year in prison with no charges ever being brought against him.  He returned to farming.  “To be a farmer is like starting to smoke – there comes a time when you can’t turn back,” he says.

A chemical factory abuts the Taneeb farm

But at the same time Fayez and Mouna began farming, a chemical factory was being moved from a village on “Israeli side” of what would later become the Wall, to property adjacent to the Fayez land (because residents of the Israeli village where the plant had formerly operated had complained about the smell!).

“One day (in 1989), I went to the fields and the ground was white.  There was this white powder everywhere,” Fayez says.  “In one day, the plants died; in a week, the young trees died.”

“I went to the Israeli court, (as did the Jewish farmers to the west of me),” he said.   Because Israeli citizens were being negatively affected, the chemical factory was ordered to shut down production on those days that the wind was blowing to the west (40-50 days a year).  “The farmers to the east, they still have a problem,” he adds.

Organic strawberries

At that point, Fayez took classes in new farming methods, determined to make his produce organic to further reduce chemical risks.  Most of his crops are grown in greenhouses, eliminating problems with airborne pollutants, and the soil is regularly tested to be sure that no pollutants are leaching into it.

Today, the Taneeb family, which includes four sons and one daughter, all work on the farm – the almost-grown children when they are not in school, Mouna almost daily and Fayez daily when he is not traveling for his activist work.  They grow tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, strawberries and lettuce.  
 

Askadnia trees grow in the shadow of the Wall

They also have an orchard called “Mouna’s garden,” in tribute to Mouna who had wept over the damage to the land.  Trees with askadnia (a small, sweet yellow fruit), apples, oranges, and lemons  flourish only yards from where the Wall snakes its way across the back of the Taneeb property.

 Surrounded on three sides - by the chemical factory, the Israeli army camp and the Wall - the Taneeb family continues to farm.  They market their produce in Tulkarm and Nablus, and their message of peace to the world.  “We believe in having our freedom and having our (own) state.  As long as the Palestinians have a state, it will be for both sides (Israel and Palestine),” Fayez says.  “Both have the right to live – and to live in peace.”