An Israeli Kibbutz and a Palestinian Arab Village: Drinking from the Same Well
By Bill Plitt as told to him by Dov Avital and Badea Rakia
© November 2013
Imagine a setting where members of an Israeli Kibbutz and the villagers from a neighboring Palestinian Arab community share water from a common well and participate together in sporting events. You might think it was a pipedream of some naive, romantic activist with hopes for the future of the State of Israel/Palestine and not the reality of an ongoing relationship that has existed for 60 years.
This current state of co-existence officially began in 1953 when 120 Argentinean émigrés settled into the socialist Kibbutz Metzer adjacent to the historic Palestinian Arab village of Meiser, located in central Israel. Their shared narrative may be unraveling after so many years, however, because of the policies of the Israeli governing authorities that wish to exclude the Palestinians from their Jewish State. This is a tragedy in the making, and it is leading to a lost opportunity to build bridges of understanding instead of erecting walls of fear.
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“Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge against anyone among your people, but love your neighbor as yourself. I am the LORD.” Leviticus 19:18
“And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.31 The second is this, 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself. There is no other commandment greater than these.’32” Mark 12:31-32
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In 2009, I wrote an article about the relationship between the people of the village Meiser and the Kibbutz Metzer that was severely tested in November 2002 when a person from the outside murdered five people in the kibbutz, including a mother and two young children. It was difficult to comprehend, but that relationship survived even after that crisis; the strength of years of peaceful co-existence and relationships based on common trust bore the weight of the tragedy and transformed it into a common experience of grief and sorrow. However, I had really only heard one side of the story at the time of my visit – the side of those living in the kibbutz. What was the Arab view of the events leading up to and then beyond this crisis? Was it compatible with the one I heard from the kibbutz side of things? What was it like to live in a relatively peaceful co-existent relationship with one another?
I have made six annual pilgrimages to Israel/Palestine since 2008. On two separate occasions, I visited with Dov Avital, the former Chairman of the kibbutz. Having heard the story from his perspective as the leader of the kibbutz, I wanted to hear how the Palestinian leaders, who are all Israeli citizens, viewed this relationship of so many decades. When I asked about this option, Dov said, “Not a problem. They would love to meet with you.” This was the moment I had been anticipating.
My latest trip to Israel/Palestine took place in November 2013. It was time to meet with the “other side,” so the day before my return to the States, I was driven by a friend from the Israeli city of Haifa to the City of Binjamina where I met Dov and shared a beautifully served middle-eastern lunch in a restaurant frequented by both Jewish and Palestinian citizens of Israel. Dov provided some additional background for the afternoon conversation and defined the informal nature of the gathering. We then drove to the village of Meiser, located just north of the kibbutz, to meet with members of the village at the home of Badea Rakia, the former Chairman of the village Council. He met us at the door of his home with a warm welcome, as though we were all old friends, for the purpose of telling the Arab side of the story.
In the Rakia living room, Badia had prepared a wonderful spread of pastries, fruit and, of course, a pot of hot, strong Arab coffee; we were provided with a very comfortable atmosphere for friendly conversation. Other invited members of the village never appeared, however; it was just the three of us, which turned out to be more intimate and more revealing than it might have been with additional guests.
As the afternoon sped past, what was supposed to be an hour interview continued on into three hours packed full of fresh, new accounts (for me, anyway) of an earlier time. It was a story not only about the six decades since the establishment of the Kibbutz Metzer in 1953, but it was also a story that had its beginning long before this particular relationship had officially begun. What was already present was not only the traditional Arab cultural legacy in the region which called for the welcoming of strangers, but it was also a shared history of prior relationships with Jews in the nearby Kibbutz Maanit before the arrival of the Metzer Kibbutzniks. Hospitality already served as the foundation for this relationship – an interdependent relationship which was soon confirmed on both sides by this conversation between these two old friends. It was real and enduring, with deep roots, not shallow ones, and they and their predecessors had established trust as a foundation for this unique situation.
Since 1953, the story of the village had now become intertwined with the story of the new kibbutz as events began to take place over time. The conversation between the two men, whose family members had known each other through all of those intervening years, flowed effortlessly and respectfully. I learned about the seeds of a co-existent relationship which seemed more like interdependence and not one of occupier and occupied, which had been my fear. The nurturing ingredients had already been sown for how these two opposing societies might continue to grow as a single entity from the very beginning and through the decades since 1953.
Badea Rakia of the Village Meiser and Dov Avital of the Kibbutz Metzer
Each man shared many stories, one after another, illustrating neighborly practices that endure to this day. It was like peeling away layer after layer of an onion and always finding nothing more than the rest of the onion – nothing hidden – nothing false. I have tried to capture a few of these anecdotes that span 60 years to share with you so you can better understand this fairly unique relationship, layer by layer.
For years prior to 1948, when there was a need, farmers of Kibbutz Maanit and Meiser loaned each other tools and returned them without question when tasks were completed. Such basic practices were the norm between the two peoples sharing their lands, even then.
In 1948, the Israeli forces removed Palestinians from their villages throughout the region (known by the Palestinians as the Nakba), destroyed some 500 villages and displaced 750,000 villagers. The inhabitants of Meiser were allowed to return shortly afterwards, which was not the common practice. And even more rarely, the returning Arabs were offered Israeli citizenship and allowed to retain their land. Suspicion, however, did reign in such villages as Israeli authorities often offered rewards to Palestinians who provided information about the actions of their own neighbors. These Palestinian collaborators were more of a threat from within than from the members of the Kibbutz Maanit, however, because “loving thy neighbor” was a shared belief.
In 1953, when Kibbutz Metzer was established by Argentinean émigrés next to the already-established village of Meiser, there was a climate of trust between the Jews and the Arabs of the region because of their previously shared history and enduring cultural practices. When the young socialists of the Kibbutz needed a water source, the Arabs shared their small well. That shared water resource is still viable between the two even today, strengthening their mutual interdependence with one another.
Badea knew Dov’s in-laws well when the Kibbutz Metzer was established near the village Meiser. Badea told about a time when Dov’s father-in-law drove a tractor around the kibbutz pulling a flatbed trailer loaded with vegetables and fruits, offering rides to young villagers. At the same time (shortly after the Nakba), food was rationed amongst the Arabs; only small allotments were provided by the Israeli government for them. One time, during that period, Badea remembers being caught (along with some others) taking some of the produce off the trailer and taking it home. Word got back to the Israeli farmer, but instead of extracting punishment or retribution, the boys were forgiven, as the reason for “stealing” the food was judged not to be out of mischief or thought of the destruction of property, but out of hunger and need. Another layer of the onion skin was safely peeled away, with many more layers in reserve.
Another time, Badea, a career bus driver for EGGED (the Israeli Bus Transportation Company), was driving his bus home at the end of his work day. On his way, he passed an Israeli soldier from the kibbutz about to sleep along the roadside. He was away from base when he shouldn’t have been, a serious breach of military discipline at the time, and if discovered would have been in trouble. Badea stopped his bus and offered him a ride to the soldier’s home in the kibbutz; in the morning, he picked him up early and returned him to his base before anybody knew that he was absent.
The nearest bus station was about 3 km from the village. Bus drivers often gave rides to people from the village and the kibbutz found walking along the highway. People from the kibbutz returned the favor. As in the Christian and Judaic traditions, Islam also teaches its followers to love your neighbor.
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“Act kindly just as God has treated you kindly.” Chapter 28: Verse 77
Saying of Prophet Muhammad – “Love for people what you love for yourself, you will be faithful.”
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Earlier this year, the council of the kibbutz offered a piece of land of about 15 acres to the village for the purpose of building a soccer field. The Israeli authorities refused to support such a project, however, and wouldn’t allow the transfer of property even though the kibbutz was willing to designate this as a gift to the village, free of taxes, free of cost. There is still hope of a successful transfer of land, however, as both Badea and Dov believe that once they overcome the authorities' opposition, this soccer field would become much more than just a mutual playground; it would be a symbol of what goodwill neighbors can build together for the well-being of their youth, perpetuating the tradition of cooperation and friendship between the two communities. This would be an incredible, solid token of what could be achieved through ongoing cooperation with one another rather than the continuation of confrontation as now occurs throughout the country.
As the afternoon sun began to fade, the three of us climbed into Dov’s car, and we drove by the original well and the new one that had been built beside it; these two wells continue to link the two communities far below the surface of their physical and human co-existence.
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Badea and Dov - Drawing from the Common Well
We also drove by the land that was planned for the future soccer field, lying fallow for now. Badea noted with some frustration that there was a critical need for building homes for people of the burgeoning Palestinian village and pointed to his own family’s nearby piece of land. This land was now wooded and not available for sale because of the government policy which established the plot as State Land. Dov concurred, again, with the frustration his neighbor and friend was expressing.
After hearing more stories than I can relate here, it seemed to me that the fertile ingredients for re-creating a long-ago, time-honored way of living on the land are all present in the ongoing situation between the people of Meiser and Kibbutz Metzer; this relationship can be replicated.
If people were allowed to decide what should be done in the best interests of all the people, not just some of the people, a just peace might become a reality on the ground sooner rather than later. When the people of Israel and Palestine insist that the governments stop creating policies that are selfishly motivated and that reflect little interest in fostering good neighbors based on love and shared commonality, there is a chance that everyone can win. Fear of “the other” can be replaced by mutual trust and respect, and people need to acknowledge that in order for all to survive, cooperation must be the way forward. It may be that the people of the Kibbutz Metzer and those of the village Meiser have something to teach us all. Are we willing to learn from them? Even in the West Bank, where memories are fading because of “walls, lines, fences and borders,” we must all come to understand that we all drink from the same well.
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Arabic writer, Hassan Ben Senan told the story about his neighbor whose goat used to walk into his house. He often said to his sons:
“Don’t kick away my neighbor’s goat; let her take what she needs.”
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Bill Plitt wrote an article about Metzer/Meiser which appeared in The Christian Century (July 28, 2009). He first traveled to Israel/Palestine in 2006 with the Interfaith Peacebuilders (IFPB) organization and learned about another narrative rarely shared in the U.S. This side of the story was about the need for a just peace in the land that would allow both peoples to keep their own personal identity and dignity. He and some colleagues co-founded Friends of Tent of Nations North America (FOTONNA), an organization that supports the Tent of Nations (TON) peace project established by the Nassar family on their farm located southwest of Bethlehem.
Bill is also an elder in the Presbyterian Church and presently serves as Vice-Moderator for the Israel/Palestine Mission Network (PCUSA). He is an educator, writer, poet and musician, and he shares his experiences and stories with audiences across the U.S. through his travels with Daoud Nassar, a Palestinian Christian farmer (co-founder of TON), and through his own writing.
