Dear friend,
This my last day in Israel and in the West Bank. I am making this entry at Ben Gurion Airport, about an hour before my flight. It has been a wonderful trip, and full of the unanticipated events which is why I come. Thanks for following my journey. I never felt alone.
Today, we caught a "serveece" to a small Palestinian village called Beit Umar. It is south of one of the largest settlement blocks in the West Bank, and a few kms. from Daher's Orchard, home of the Tent of Nations. Me and my two traveling companions, Christy and Ridgely went to this village to meet with Mousa Abou Maria, a young 30 year old activist. I had met Mousa in his home, exactly two years ago on a Presbyterian Peace Fellowship Delegation trip. At that time I was commissioned by the delegation members at the end of the tour to plant thirteen olive trees in the name of each of the delegates. You see, Mousa is a farmer as is Daoud. They have much in common.
While the group departed for Jordan's Petra and for home afterward, I had the opportunity to re-enter Israel, travel to the Bethlehem area and rejoin Mousa and some children to plant the young trees. I did so. In the weeks prior to this, the Israeli settlers nearby acquired 200 acres of his land. We planned to plant the trees next to their new settler fence as a statement of non-violent resistance to such aggression . I had someone take a picture of the two of us shaking hands. When I returned home, I made a copy of the picture and taped it above my computer. Each day I sat down to work, I thought of the courage he had shown over the last couple of years and his persistent, peaceful opposition to the occupation.
Just a few months after I returned from that trip, I heard that Mousa had been placed under arrest with no charges made. He was under "administrative detention" which meant the authorities could keep him in jail for 90 days without bringing a charge against him. Today, during our conversation on the open deck of his house, I would hear his account of the 13 months he spent behind bars.
The warm morning sun poured down on us as we sat together on the tile deck that faced his neighbors' small plots of land. Also within our view was the community green house that contained hearty young cucumber plants. For me, that tent which had been destroyed by a settler bomb at least once, was symbolic of the Palestinian determination to maintain a presence on the land in spite of the oppressive conditions under which they were forced to live.
As we sat down around some cups of hot mint tea, I could feel the warmth of not only the physical environment surrounding us, but in contrast to the noisiness of the city streets of Bethlehem I had witnessed earlier that morning, there also was the presence of fellow travelers. It was a satisfying change. It was just a nice day to be alive. You know the feeling. There, on the deck with me were several young international volunteers and friends of Mousa, talking about plans and sharing visions for the future. Before the day was over, Christy, from Oklahoma; Mav from Ireland; Paulo from Russia, as well as several of Mousa's curious neighbors joined the group to tell their stories and share hopes for the days ahead. I was aware of the youthfulness of the group. If I were twenty something again, I'd be doing what they are doing. Somehow, I didn't feel uncomfortable with the distance in age. Kay always said I was in denial. I felt welcomed there. Mousa would say to me as we departed in the late afternoon in his awkward use of English, but clear intention in meaning, "We need more old bodies like yours, with good hearts to do the work together". I took that as acceptance for my frailties.
As we sat there, I listened and recorded digitally our conversation with Mousa which went on for nearly three hours. He had been arrested in the Spring of 2008. The security chief in the town invited him to his headquarters in the village for coffee. Mousa called his bluff and said, "You can come to MY house for coffee, but I suspect that it is not why you wish to see me. It is not coffee you are offering me, and we both know it".
He went down to the headquarters anyway, and was arrested as he knew he'd be. The security officer said that Mousa's Jewish wife (Mousa married an American Jew, Becka, and they both had worked together to organize the Palestinian Solidarity Project. I had also met her also on my visit in '07). Furthermore, if he would just become a collaborator for the Israeli police, they would free him. He refused to do so. The ante went up a notch more when the officer said that Mousa's wife would require money to live in the style she was accustomed to in the States. He once again, refused to agree to any terms. What he said was that he would always be transparent to not only the police but to people in own his community about his convictions . To do other than that he said, would not only be a betrayal of his own conscience but a betrayal of the truth he owed to all.
He spent the next ten months in jail. At the end of that time, he was again offered a deal. He refused. (I hear the call to board the plane. Will return tomorrow.....)
And, here I am a day later, safely home and so full of stories like the one above, I hardly know where to begin. The time will come I know when I find the particular experience that will drive me in the days ahead to share what's in my heart for that is what you will hear, and perhaps remember. Maybe it's this one?
Continuing....when Mousa returned to his home after the incarceration, he did so under severe restrictions. He was released not to his village, but transported to the Israeli border with Jordan and told he could not return to the West Bank for three years. It's important to remember that he was never charged with a legitimate offense. When he got to the border, Jordan refused him entry. He was caught in the middle. Eventually, he traveled back to his village, in violation of his parole, where he continues to work to build a non-violent resistance movement known as the Palestine Solidarity Project (PSP).
This soft spoken, gentle young man, has created an energy, that even the harshest enemy can not thwart. As we talked together on the patio on my last day in the West Bank, just as I had when we planted trees together against the settler fence two years, I had again, great admiration for his courage. There, on the patio of his home, where many internationals come to visit and work throughout the year on various projects,there is strength and solidarity. Next week, he and Israeli activists will meet in Israel, a first, for such travel for Palestinians requires special permits. Some 70 people will meet to talk about how true peace and justice might happen. His PEP organization will send two internationals and two local villagers there. Mousa himself will probably not attend because of his "house arrest". He does not want to call attention to himself for fear that it will serve as a distraction to the real purpose of the meeting. There are others who can go in his place because of the organizational style he has developed, I think.
Such an event, is a response, a steady feeling I am getting now for over a month about the measures we must take to bring an end to this madness for both Israelis and Palestinians. At the Sabeel Conference in D.C last month, Richard Falk, the UN Provocateur for Palestinian Human Rights said, "change will come as a result of both a grassroots movement and "political impossibilities". Grassroots, because our governments will not resolve the issue. Like many movements in the past involving civil rights, he said, it will come from direct action by the people in the streets. "Political impossibilities" are solutions that are not presently seen and recognized as strategies. I think such actions, as Mousa is taking through the PSP, is a "political impossibility" if multiplied, that might seize the moment for a just peace.
As I left the home of Mousa that late afternoon, climbed in the van with others, and headed back to Bethlehem, I couldn't but help feel that I had been a witness to a new day in Israel and Palestine. I got off at Kilo 7, to make one more visit to Daher's Orchard and the Tent of Nations. Though it was getting dark, the walk to the farm was a mile away, and the return uphill past incoming Israeli workers from Hebron to their adjacent settlement a little tense, I wanted very much to step again on the farm to feel for a final time, the energy of the land. IT is one of the few places I felt completely free during my stay in the West Bank. I wish my Palestinian friends may feel that same spirit some day through all of the freed occupied lands, so that they may have true peace and justice, and that the Israelis ultimately realize that in being part of such a transition themselves, they too will have the security they deserve and desire. By visiting Daher and Amal on farm at the very end of my trip,and knowing I would see Daoud in my home the next day, I wanted to carry back to him the assurance that all is well. For it really is.
No comments:
Post a Comment