One of the major reasons for this most recent trip, in addition to the primary desire to show our support for the Tent of Nations Project, and more personally, support for Daoud and his family, was to share some time with friends with whom I have walked life's roads for many years: Todd and Paula Endo, and Bob and Pat Smythe as well as Bud Hensgen, a relatively new friend. They had decided that they had had enough of my story telling, poetry writing, arm twisting, and were going to seek the truth with their own "cameras". I declined on the opportunity to lead such a group, but offered to join them on an extended tour experience after they had traveled and seen themselves with other Interfaith Peacebuilders delegates, and some trusted leaders in that program who would provide them with a rich assortment of stories and narratives of people to hear. There were other new friends too. Some were back for a second trip and brought friends of their own to our "Middle Eastern house of Hospitality" in Arlington, just prior to their departure From the states.
As I often like to do, I "cherry picked" from the itinerary of IFPB and chose to connect with the friends at places where I either needed a ride via their tour bus to get to some destination of my own, or just a bed in one of their hotels on the tour where I could lay my head. So sprinkled throughout their 12-day intense encounter with activists on all sides of the fence, a brief visit and "peaked in". I could almost see the mirror of my own experience as I emerged amidst them two to three times. They were still weary from the travel, some feeling sick from a virus or new food, and others just overwhelmed by the enormous amount of stimuli they were receiving both in the visual form of the landscape of occupation, and the narratives of the sojourners there. With mouths agape, eyes tired, but alarmed, and bodies and bags scattered, they moved on in constant rhythm of the drone of the bus engine and shouts of "Yalla, Yalla" of their guides and leaders. I know, I had been there.
I noticed in the beginning, that beneath the caffein-driven days, the jet-lagged bodies, and the sleep deprived faces, there was great confusion about what they were experiencing, Then, at midway, questions and observations emerged about the incredible reality they were encountering for the first time, and about a political situation that seemed intractable. As the formal tour ended, and they could "smell the barn door" with questions that began to emerge like "what can I do, who do I speak to, what is my story?"
At that point, my five friends, joined by two additional travelers for a part of the time met in the lobby of the Paradise Hotel in Bethlehem where their formal tour ended, and a three day extension would begin. After leaving behind the baggage of both their tour, and carrying only the necessary clothes for a few days on the Nassar Family farm, we began the the long walk through the "old city" of Bethlehem to the Manger Square and the Church of Nativity on Star Street which got its name from the traditional belief that this would have been the path from Jerusalem of the WIse Men as they searched for the "babe".
I had arranged a few experiences for the tour that might compliment their formal experience but not add to their fatigue. There was no more room for new information, and I could see it still in their faces. So, we tried to strike a balance with where they were emotionally, and physically, but still leave them satisfied with their decision to extend their days with us. I think they felt three days later that it had been worthwhile. In Bethlehem, I proposed meeting a wood carver friend, off of Manager Square, getting a brief tour of the Lutheran Center and having a nice lunch on the balcony dining room there before heading off to the farm and time with Daoud who had just returned from his tour in the States.
On formal IFPB tour when the whole delegation, including my friends arrived at the Nassar Family Farm/Tent of Nations, Daoud asked me to tell the family story, the recent struggles to hold on to their land in a non-violent way, and about the constraints of the Israeli occupation. It was an opportunity for me to put myself in Daoud's shoes and explain to others what it was that was that is so special when you visit this space where more than 8,000 visitors and volunteers had come to work or see in the past two years. I could see after the half hour, that my effort to tell the story had an impact on many members of the group, and they could visually see both the resistance to the occupation in the construction of caves - in defiance of restrictions- and the reality of "facts on the ground" - in the encirclement of settlements. They got it! Like me, they would never be the same.
So once we took the taxi to the farm through the backroads and villages as the family was now forced to do because of the road barricades from the Hebron highway, they began to understand the occupation in a new way, and the stated as such with such remarks as how steep the hills were, how trashy the roadsides seemed, and how uncomfortable the roads were. This way had taken them nearly three times that time it had taken them on the delegation route. We returned to the farm and were met at the gate by the heart-filled welcome of Daoud's older brother, Daher, we were home! The air seemed sweeter here.
I had invited several people to join us during the next three days, but all of them canceled at the last minute because of other
commitments or unanticipated events. They were are former soldier from the IDF, a staff worker from Mossawa, a Palestinian Advocacy group for "Palestinians with Israeli citizenship, a friend, newly appointed Ambassador for the Palestinian Authority, and an Israeli eco-horticulturalist. I thought their informal presence on the land would provide yet another perspective on what my friends had seen, and an opportunity for the visitors who would "see" this farm and the project for what i might mean to them in their work. Closing that loop didn't happen. I strongly believe that after you have done your best to make things work, it's all you really can do. I also believe the difficulities my guests all faced were yet another element of the occupation which makes life that much harder. Besides, I think the travelers just needed space, and what better way to do so than to just "hang out and chill" in space which I have found spiritual and calming in a sea of storms. I think they found it too.
The deeper looks at the strategies of nonviolent resistance, the full moonlit night around the campfire-singing with other international volunteers, visitors and family members, the "down time" to rest, write and reflect, all contributed to a
peaceful interlude before heading home three days later.
I really enjoyed being with my friends in a place I had found only not great purpose, but an atmosphere of hope, in a world perceived as full of darkness at times. The 100 acres has even more recently become for me, more than a farm, more than a beautiful family, more than a place where people can encounter one another, but also a place where the spirit of non-violence springs forth around what now is a global feeling of the need to change they way we know each other. This project will not end the occupation, but does remind us that journey toward obtaining the human dignity for us all is a road worth traveling , including my friends here. Bp
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