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Writing
from Budrus
January 19, 2004 S’ra
Budrus is a village marked to be destroyed by the construction
of the wall. Already the scars of the bulldozers are seen where
50 meters of olive trees have been uprooted. The village is
breathtaking – the olive groves, the winding streets that provide
homes for the 1200 residents here, the panoramic view of the
hills. If you look closely enough you will also see the Israeli
settlements on the hills, the storage compound for the bulldozers,
and the bulldozed path that marks where the wall will stand.
The constant roar of bullets from the Israeli military litter
the beautiful music that the birds, sheep and the occasional
donkey provide for the village. They have a training camp in
the valley not far from Budrus. Unfortunately, all the schools
of Budrus are situated on top of a hill closest to the Israeli
military training camp, so the children hear shots all day while
they receive their lessons. What kind of psychological impact
does this have on the children of Budrus?
Budrus, a rural village in the West Bank about 20 km from Tel
Aviv, and its surrounding villages are earmarked to be encircled
by the “security perimeter,” what Palestinians and people who
work in solidarity with Palestinians call the Apartheid Wall.
Only one entrance gate is planned for the entire area, which
will almost completely obstruct the Palestinians’ ability to
travel to other areas in the West Bank. What implications will
this have? Families will be separated even further, there will
be no access to universities, jobs, and hospitals, and agricultural
products will never make it to markets. The preparations for
the wall have already destroyed trees, and unfortunately only
more will be toppled as the bulldozers continue to invade the
area. A neighboring village, Ni’lin, will loose 98% of its land
due to the wall. The olive tree is the basis of life here, the
olive oil the blood of the land. Palestinian culture revolves
around the cycle of the olive tree. Destroying trees destroys
the Palestinian culture. The Israeli military, largely funded
by the US government, is committing cultural genocide.
The history of this village shows a portrait of Palestinian
life. A grandmother and village elder (85 years old) was displaced
from her village in 1948 when it was completely destroyed as
the Israeli state was founded. She now lives in Budrus with
her husband, children, grandchildren and great grandchildren.
Three of her sons and two of her grandchildren have been arrested
in the last month for protesting the wall. Their crimes: speaking
at demonstrations, resisting the construction of the wall, and
housing internationals and Israelis. Under Israeli law Palestinians
can be held for six months with no charge, called administrative
detention. Every six months the Israeli government can decide
to continue to imprison them. This grandmother has only witnessed
destruction—first her own village, then her family is imprisoned,
and now the Israeli government is confiscating the land of her
second village. History repeats itself.
The wall is changing the physical landscape of the West Bank.
However even without the wall life here in Occupied Palestine
is incredibly difficult. According to a United Nations’ Office
for Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs map of the West Bank,
as of December 2003 there were 63 checkpoints (a military checkpoint
to control and stop the flow of people and goods), 10 half checkpoints
(not always personed), 456 earth mounds (mounds of rocks and
earth to inhibit passage of vehicles), 72 trenches (a ditch
to impede automobiles), and 34 road gates (a metal gate that
prevents vehicle passage, quite often with military present).
This does not include all the temporary checkpoints that appear
throughout the West Bank for a few hours or a few days. This
only includes the structures that were constructed when the
UN conducted its GPS analysis in December 2003. They make a
new map every month, after they have tracked this information
by satellite imagery.
All of these structures cause frustration and humiliation. Getting
to another village in the West Bank that is only a few miles
away can take hours and quite often travel is completely restricted.
The Israeli government stated recently that Israelis and internationals
now need permission to enter the Occupied Territories. They
know that Palestinian solidarity organizations, both Israeli
and international, are helping to publicize the atrocities of
the Israeli military. At the military checkpoint before Ramallah,
the other day I was asked if I worked with the ISM. Those are
the moments in life to play dumb, “IS What???” That is the game
internationals have to play to support non-violent resistant.
The Israeli government has not been able to stop this solidarity
work, but they pass laws regularly to make it harder for activists
to enter and work in Palestine. But internationals and Israelis
can often use our status and mobility to maneuver around the
checkpoints. The Palestinians do not have these privileges.
From the olive groves of Budrus,
S’ra
January 20, 2004
Today we visited Deir Ballut, a rural Palestinian village of
4000 people. A military checkpoint lies before the entrance
of the community, following the checkpoint is a roadblock that
prevents the movement of vehicles. When you look up into the
hills you realize that the checkpoint and the roadblock are
there due to the Israeli settlements that overlook the village.
Uniformity—houses that all look the same—that is how to distinguish
a settlement here from a Palestinian village, not to mention
the security guards and military personnel.
A group of internationals and I met with the mayor of Deir Ballut,
only expecting to introduce ourselves, but after being invited
in for a magnificent spread of food, the few minutes turned
into hours of food, tea, coffee, and conversation. Ninety-eight
percent of the land will be confiscated by the wall here, ninety-eight
percent. This 98% is home to the olive groves and wheat fields.
Right now the wheat fields lie next to the checkpoint where
the Palestinian farmers are harassed daily by the soldiers.
Without wheat, Palestinians cannot make pita, without olives,
no olive oil, two staples in the Palestinian diet.
A story was shared with us from Deir Ballut…A pregnant woman
from the village went into labor in the middle of the night.
The soldiers would not let her pass the checkpoint to get to
the hospital. She was forced to give birth to her twins on the
cement next to a military checkpoint, even though an ambulance
was waiting for her on the other side of the checkpoint. The
Israeli soldiers lifted the blankets from her to look at her
while she was in labor…an absolute violation. Her twins died
an hour after she gave birth to them. This is what Israeli occupation
has done.
In solidarity,
S’ra
January
23-25 Hilary
I am happy to share a day of victories with you all! Despite
a fierce wind and steady rain, about 300 of us succeeded in
conducting a high-spirited and very peaceful demonstration.
This was the latest in a series of almost weekly demonstrations
that the people of Budrus have organized. Budrus is gaining
a reputation for having a strong resistance movement, and especially
amongst the women. Some of these demonstrations have remained
non-violent, but during marches here, the Israeli soldiers have
used force (tear gas, beatings, rubber bullets, but not live
ammunition) against the Palestinians, Israelis, and internationals
that marched peacefully.
It was so incredible to see this peaceful resistance from within
the community, as well as from dozens of internationals and
Israelis. The most profound demonstration of solidarity came
when the Rabbis for Human Rights personally delivered 500 olive
trees to Budrus on the day before the demonstration. The symbolism
of this gift is remarkable—in the face of their government’s
tactic of denying Palestinians of their dignity and identity,
these virtuous Israelis are affirming Palestinian culture. In
the days approaching the demonstration, people started arriving
in twos and threes and fours to this apartment that is being
rented by an assortment of internationals. People were here
representing the United States, France, Britain, Sweden, Iceland,
Germany, China, South Africa, Australia, Japan, Denmark, Spain,
Scotland, and of course, Israel.
We all assembled by the mosque, and marched from there through
the village, holding our soggy cardboard signs that bore our
nationalities (my favorite was “Vegas Says: Don’t Gamble on
the Wall”) and proudly waving Palestinian flags, while the lively
Budrus women chanted and chanted and chanted. After stopping
at Ahmed’s home to pick up some of the olive trees, we made
our way down the path through the terraced olive grove, scrambling
over the stones and around the cacti. Israeli and Palestinian
photographers perched on the stone walls, capturing on film
the procession of small boys with their pictures of Arafat,
the crowd of women and girls with their muddied hijabs, the
assorted internationals, the strident men. People spilled onto
the ugly swath that was bulldozed over a month ago, all while
the machines continued their work. Even though we knew it was
purely symbolic, we so triumphantly planted the trees! After
the soldiers arrived, we were soon asked by the village leaders
to move back, and eventually, to return up the valley to the
village. (The women were disappointed—we watched as Rhonda,
our friend who leads the chanting, has a bit of a face-off with
Ahmed!) I think some found it a bit anti-climactic, but the
point was to end the demonstration on the villagers’ own terms,
not to be bullied by the soldiers, and to do so as non-violently
as possible.
All this happened one week after one of Budrus’ most respected
men, Iyad, and his two brothers were arrested the night before
the last demonstration. This, to me, is part of the most disturbing
part of the occupation that we rarely hear about. It seems that
in the eyes of the international community, Israel is fighting
a legitimate war against its security threat, the suicide bombers.
Remember that this “legitimate” war is fought with illegal tactics—arrests
in the middle of the night, home demolitions, even assassinations.
And in this case, we are witnessing the criminalization of even
non-violent resistance. Essentially, because these men are engaged
in a struggle against the wall, which Israel says is to prevent
terrorism, these three brothers are now considered terrorists.
How can a state, which claims to be a democracy, call this justice?
Now, joyfully, a few hours after we settled in after the demonstration,
Iyad returned home. It was such an honor to meet this man who
is largely responsible for the kind of resistance that is alive
in Budrus. But his two brothers and his two nephews remain in
jail! If Israel is primarily concerned about the “security”
of its citizens, why does the state attempt to crush non-violent
organizing? It seems even clearer that the interest is not in
security, but in a psychological warfare that denies a people
of their livelihoods and dignity.
Which brings me to another point that I’d like to touch on.
A portion of this e-mail list (it’s divided into 4 sections)
received a response to our last letter that I should address.
“Just hope you don't forget the Syrian Defense Minister's words
before the '67 war: "We will pave the highways with the skulls
of the Jews." I take this to be just light-hearted banter between
buddies, or was the Syrian, Egyptian, Iraqi, and Lebanese coalition
really meant to completely destroy the Israeli state?”
I think that the above-mentioned coalition’s relevance to Palestine
is debatable—these governments seem to choose and drop allies
as opportunistically as the United States government does. Most
Palestinians believe that the surrounding nations have never
advocated on their behalf. That is, the Syrian Defense Minister’s
racist proclamations relate more to political power and land
acquisition interests than to Palestinians’ self-determination.
(Also, hopefully we will also remember that Defense Ministers
tend not to speak for the general population. Think Donald Rumsfeld.)
So let us remember that all Arabs, and all Arab countries, are
not all the same. Furthermore, while Israel remains an island
surrounded by hostile countries, suicide bombings and stone
throwing are tactics that are far different than “pushing people
into the sea,” or anything as severe as the Syrian’s Defense
Minister’s threat. The collective punishment of Palestinians
should not be confused as being a war to protect the Jews, as
the Israel government has claimed it to be. It is an economic
war. A land grab. The fourth largest military in the world is
being used to fight refugees in the name of national “security.”
To aim guns and even to sometimes shoot them at school children.
To kick an old women’s bag of sage in the market. To keep university
students from getting to school. Or if they live on campus,
to keep them from seeing their families. To keep farmers from
harvesting their crops. To keep people from speaking into bullhorns.
What kind of security is this? The only thing it seems to be
doing is to secure people from each other and their own livelihoods,
which drive them to desperate acts (like suicide bombing), which
then justifies a whole wave of state terror. I maintain that
it is not “biased and naïve” to join a people in their struggle
for human rights. I will assert that it is actually quite “biased
and naïve” to believe the Israeli hawks’ justification of what
is in reality ethnocide. In addition, we should remember that
when we fight to end the occupation, we are struggling for the
future of Palestine and Israel together. The safety and security
of Israel is more likely to come when Palestinians no longer
have to fight desperately for their lives.
While drinking coffee and tea with Iyad after his release from
the cold tent of a prison that he was in, he was asked if he
is nervous to continue the struggle. He stared at us for a minute,
and answered resolutely, “It is forbidden. It is forbidden to
be nervous. It is forbidden to give up. It is forbidden to stop
the struggle.” It is this kind of commitment that is so admirable
about the people of Budrus. They continue their work against
the wall and against the occupation, despite the likelihood
of their own imprisonment. Precisely because accepting the wall
means accepting another kind of imprisonment. On the same day
of the demonstration and of Iyad’s release, we learned that
our friend Ahmed and his wife Nowal are due to have a child
in eight months. S’ra and I were ecstatic (we’ve adopted the
Palestinian custom of wondering incessantly when a new couple
will have their first child)! But after sharing our excitement,
Ahmed sobered up, and told us how afraid he is for his child
to have to grow up like he did. And he promised that he would
continue his struggle, so that his child might have a better
life.
The night before, S’ra and I spent the night with Nowal, while
Ahmed slept elsewhere, as we were all worried that he may get
arrested in the night—he had assumed Iyad’s responsibilities
while he was in jail. It was so painful to speak with Ahmed
as he walked us to his home and bid us a goodnight, to think
that there was a good chance that we wouldn’t see him again.
And to watch him say goodnight to his wife! Of course, we didn’t
sleep soundly that night (don’t tell Ahmed!) I cannot imagine
how many sleepless nights there are in Palestine. Even now,
with Iyad (Ahmed’s cousin) home, Ahmed, his wife, and his mother
sleep fitfully, afraid that every noise could be the soldiers.
And they are right to be afraid—the soldiers make rounds in
the village every night.
Currently, we are looking forward to the next demonstration.
We have made flags together with the 1st through 4th graders
to hang amongst the olive trees that we will be planting with
the women and children. It is important for the people of Budrus
that they continue their active resistance. Theirs is the only
community thus far that has been able to stall the construction
of the wall. As internationals, our presence is considered important
for a few reasons. Firstly, it is hoped that we can raise the
level of safety for the village. When the bulldozers first began
destroying olive trees to make way for the wall, people immediately
began to protest. Soldiers responded with violence. Since internationals
have been here, the demonstrations have continued but with far
less violence from the soldiers. Secondly, internationals help
to spread information about, and bring attention to Budrus.
This is extremely important, as the recipe for effective resistance
here could possibly spread to other regions in Palestine. And
thirdly, we have been told that our being here helps the moral
of the people. All over Palestine, as the Intifada draws on
in its elusive way, people are actually giving up. Perhaps not
permanently, but they are tired.
A few days ago, Ahmed took us on a walk to the woods that stretch
through the valley under his home. He explained how the wall
is supposed to go where these woods lie. Together with the wall
in the valley south of the village, the wall is due to circle
the village on three sides. Unlike the valley south of the village,
where the olive grove has been partially destroyed to make way
for the wall, and construction is now suspended because of the
village resistance, no trees or land have yet been bulldozed
on this north side of the village. As we relaxed in the shade,
Ahmed spoke about how he felt that strategically, the Israeli
government has chosen a good time to build a wall. So many people
are weary of resistance, and the construction of the wall is
about to literally cement that feeling. This is why the struggle
against the wall is crucial. And it is imperative that the international
community stands with Palestinians to help them see that they
are not isolated.
With hope from Budrus,
Hilary
January 23, 2004 S’ra
We have visited Tulkarm, an area where the wall has already
been constructed, an area where eventually the wall will fall!!
All walls come down at some point, insha’allah (hopefully) this
wall will be torn down in the near future. Now we are in Budrus,
a village that is resisting the construction of the wall. After
being in Tulkarm and seeing the olive trees that have been harvested
by Palestinians for generations that now lie on the “Israeli”
side of the fence, it has only become more clear to me the sense
of destruction and disparity that follows the path of the wall.
Some of the olive trees that are still standing can still be
seen in Tulkarm but only through a “security” fence and razor
wire, which are closely monitored by the Israeli military. The
wall is not only creating a path of destruction but also a path
of resistance and community building. Budrus is only one of
the many villages uniting against the wall, and at this point,
is the only village whose resistance has at least delayed further
construction.
Imagine living in a community your entire life and then one
day you are informed by an occupying power that a wall will
annex 98% of your village’s land? That the olive trees that
your great, great, great grandparents planted will be uprooted
or become the property of Israeli settlers who will now be able
to harvest them? That if you resist the confiscation of your
land, violently or non-violently, you will be arrested or even
killed? That you will have to pass through a gate every time
you go to work or the hospital and that the person at this gate
will decide if you are allowed to pass or not? What do you do?
The mayor of Deir Ballut asked me what I would do if the Israeli
government told me that my farm would be confiscated. Then he
asked me what would I do if they told me they would kill me
and my family if I did not leave the land. He repeated these
questions several times, each time with more intensity and in
a louder voice, his anger of his situation in Palestine brewing
in his blood. I did everything I could to hold my composure
in front of the Palestinians and internationals that were present,
swallowing my tears and trying to conceal my anger at him for
asking me these questions that made me feel so uncomfortable.
But he has every right to ask me these difficult questions;
his village is faced with these very questions right now. All
the land they grow their wheat and olives on will no longer
be theirs…the death of their bread, their olives, their culture.
Getting back to the mayor’s questions. The only answer that
I could give him at the time was that I do not know because
I have never had to make these kinds of decisions. I have never
been in a situation with someone threatening me that if I did
not leave my farm that my family or I would be killed. I am
thankful that he made me feel so uncomfortable and challenged.
This gave just the smallest taste of the type of decisions Palestinians
have to make daily.
With tears in my eyes and hope in my heart
Sending my love from Palestine
S’ra |
January
14-16, 2004
Friends
and Family,
We are
writing from Palestine, the land of olives and abundant hospitality.
Not to mention falafel and hummus. (Thank goodness we heeded
Jon Bauer’s advice to stop all consumption of falafel
and hummus two weeks ago!)
Finding
the time to write has been a bit difficult but finally here
we are. Thanks for all of your messages of support, and sorry
if we have been able to respond to all of them. We have been
busy orienting ourselves to the Holy Land, visiting with farmers,
receiving a training from the International Solidarity Movement
(ISM)…we’ve been here only a week and are full
of information, and have enough to do and learn to last a
year! Tomorrow S’ra is conducting a facilitation training
for ISM coordinators, and following that we will join the
ISM for a week in a village affected by the wall. Stay tuned
for more from us!!
We have
written this letter together. Please feel free to share our
letters as you wish, and remember if you would like to write
to S’ra personally she is at sra@riseup.net In these
e-mails, we will try our best to share with you that which
we have seen, felt, and heard. We are not Palestinians, so
we cannot speak for Palestinians, only as observers who come
from a place of privilege. When we write “Palestine,”
it is in itself a political assertion. Some people deny the
existence of Palestine. After touching the olive trees that
were planted by Palestinians over four generations ago, we
know Palestine exists.
We have
just come from Tulkarm, a city in the West Bank that borders
Israel. In the taxi, a woman pointed out the two refugee camps
that lie on the outskirts of the city. We later learned that
the Israeli military was at that moment raiding the camp,
looking for wanted men. Palestinian men were arrested, women
and children were blocked inside, another building was burned…
Inside the camp, curfew was enforced, keeping people locked
inside wherever they were, without food or access to the rest
of their families. Two homes inside the camp have since been
demolished. We have heard these reports from internationals
that were inside the camp with the International Solidarity
Movement (ISM). Because we did not yet have the proper training,
we did not enter the camp. We would rather not explain things
that we do not witness ourselves; we thought we would include
it here to impress upon you all the instability in Palestine.
From the stories that we have heard so far, any semblance
of normality can be shattered at any time. If you are interested
in learning more about the work of the ISM, you can visit
their website to learn about joining their list serve (the
website itself is not always updated): www.palsolidarity.org
We had
the pleasure of staying with an active farmer, organizer,
and father who bears an amazing resemblance to Emiliano Zapata,
minus the sombrero. (He seemed pleased at our observation.)
We will call him Mohammed. After eloquently explaining the
situation of agriculture in Tulkarm, he took us to visit his
own farm. As we approached his fields, the “security
fence” loomed in front of us. The farm was cut in half
by the construction of the wall and again in half by six rolls
of razor wire that soldiers laid on the main farm road. As
we walked on the farm, we saw trenches dug by Israeli soldiers,
the remains of four irrigation lines that were vandalized
by soldiers, and the ominous 25’ wall. As we started
to take pictures, Mohammed nervously asked us to refrain from
photography and pointing, calling attention to the cameras
mounted on top of the wall. We were not sure if soldiers were
in the watchtowers, but if they were, Mohammed said they would
arrive to interrogate us within minutes. Soldiers have visited
their farm several times and threatened to kill them, telling
them the land was not theirs, even though for generations
his family has nurtured this land. Considering this situation
we are amazed at his courage for cutting through the razor
wire to have access to his own crops.
This family
has witnessed this kind of oppression for years. In 1986,
an Israeli factory relocated to land bordering Mohammed’s
farm. This factory, incidentally, was court ordered to close
in Israel because Israeli citizens complained of pollution:
Justice prevailed for the Israelis. Mohammed and his neighbors
complained when their vegetables and fruit trees died. Later,
it was explained that an effluent filter had broken, but they
received no compensation and their legal steps were ignored.
Together, farmers in Tulkarm sent soil to be tested to a soil
lab in Israel, but after accepting payment, the lab refused
to provide the results. These days, the factory continues
operations, polluting the land, air, and water. We met another
farmer, whose land directly borders the factory. He, his wife,
and five of his six children all suffer from asthma. They
no longer grow on their land; they do not trust that the black
dust that settles on their crops is safe. The appeals that
the Tulkarm farmers have made to the Israeli government for
regulations and compensation have been fruitless; in fact,
they have resulted in harassment from the factory. Mohammed
reenacted for us the scene of his attempted assassination—he
accidentally dodged two bullets that came from behind the
factory wall when he moved to flick his cigarette. Apparently
he was too persistent in his attempts to organize with his
neighbors (including Israelis in a nearby village) to apply
pressure on the factory.
That night,
with Mohammed’s family, we watched his videotape documenting
Israeli soldiers completely bulldozing their fields in 1996.
It was unbelievable—watching the bucket scrape off the
topsoil, the vegetables, and the fruit trees—all while
the family and their friends scrambled to glean what they
could in the minutes before everything was buried. As farmers,
we could not imagine living through this kind of violence—to
watch all of our labor, our love, and connection to the land
disappear. Of course, Mohammed and his family have since re-cultivated
that land. It is amazing how beautiful their farm is, despite
all the destruction. We found his wife and son in the fields,
harvesting cucumbers, lettuce, sage, and tomatoes--vegetables
we would later enjoy for dinner. All that remains of the bulldozer’s
destruction is trenches that border the fields. When the family
asked the soldiers what they had done to deserve this, the
soldiers said “for no reason.” Seven years later,
the wall was constructed on this same field.
Especially
since the beginning of this Intifada, checkpoints around the
West Bank have restricted the free movement of Palestinians
as well as their goods. Now, in areas that are surrounded
by the Apartheid Wall, most farmers are unable to transport
agricultural products. The access to markets beyond their
own villages has been almost completely lost. Due to flooded
local markets, the prices farmers receive have decreased dramatically.
Many Palestinians
have asked us this question: “If the wall is supposed
to secure Israelis from Palestinians, then why is it separating
us from our own people and land?” The construction of
the wall has cut deeply into Palestinian territory, confiscating
farmland. One farmer we interviewed outside of Tulkarm had
5000 olive trees that have been in his family for longer than
his father could remember. These trees have provided the economic
livelihood for his extended family (22 individual families,
130 people). To clear land for the wall, 3000 trees were demolished
and the remaining 2000 trees lie on the opposite side of the
wall. To be able to harvest his olives, he must first receive
permission from the Israeli government. Then he must walk
five km to the gate in the wall and then five km back to the
trees, even though the trees are only a few meters from his
house. No vehicles are allowed entry, so they can only transport
what they and their donkeys can carry. This year, for the
first time, the family bought olive oil, as olives rotted
on their own trees.
Constraints
to farming in Palestine increase every day with confiscation
of land, destroyed infrastructure, loss of markets, and destruction
of crops. Organizations, both non-governmental and grassroots,
struggle to help farmers meet their needs and survive. Not
only do they face all of the challenges that we have described,
but they are also targeted by the Israeli military simply
for helping farmers gain access to infrastructural needs.
For example, in the invasion of Ramallah in 2002, Ma’an
Development Center, an NGO working on sustainable development,
had their office raided, computers and printers shot out,
windows broken, and files destroyed. A year earlier, a center
of theirs in Mad’ha that included the largest indigenous
seed bank in the West Bank was completely destroyed. In addition
to pressure from Israel, Palestinian organizations are loosing
vital funding due to the “war on terror.” At the
end of 2002, the United States Agency for International Development
(USAID) began suspending funding for NGOs that support “terrorist
organizations.” Most Palestinian NGOs, such as Ma’an,
who does not support terrorism, are now refusing USAID funds,
because the unstated implications will completely restrict
organizations from funding anyone involved, including non-violently,
in the struggle against the occupation. In Ma’an’s
case, this means $1.2 to 1.5 million lost annually. If you
would like to hear the full interview with Sami Hedr, the
founder of the Ma’an Development Center, it will be
posted with our reports at www.vtjp.org
Together
with Jon Bauer, we have been asking people their opinions
about the current state of the Intifada. When talking to Mohammed,
he expressed to us his disappointment about the popularity
of Hamas and other organizations that encourage suicide bombings.
For a peaceful organizer like Mohammed, this is a mistake.
As he was explaining this to us, his 16-year old daughter
interrupted, asserting that she supports Hamas. The debate
that ensued was heated, and even humorous, but to us it was
the most poignant moment of our visit. Mohammed’s daughter
asked her father how he can believe in peace—after the
wall tore through their community, his land and equipment
was destroyed, his nephew killed, Mohammed himself almost
assassinated several times, and on and on—how can he
possibly believe in peace? The loss of hope in any kind of
peace is echoed by so many Palestinians. Especially, and most
tragically, by young Palestinians who have known nothing but
war and occupation. To hear this young, beautiful, intelligent
girl, who wants to study journalism in France, emphatically
describe suicide bombing as the only choice for Palestinians
is heartbreaking. We pressed her for her opinions about Hamas
as a whole—specifically what kind of future she saw
Hamas bringing to Palestine. At this, she admitted that she
did not support Hamas’ conservative beliefs, especially
regarding women.
More and
more Palestinians are turning to right-wing organizations
simply because the word “peace” has lost its true
definition and has been co-opted to mean compliance with Israeli
Occupation. The Palestinians have participated in non-violent
resistance since the beginning of the occupation, especially
in the first Intifada, but they are tired. Many Palestinians
are losing their faith in these tactics, and they are turning
to armed struggle. The more isolated Palestinians feel, the
less options they have. This is why it is so vital that the
international community stand with Palestinians, or as the
slogan goes, that we globalize the Intifada (literally the
“shake off,” referring to Israeli Occupation).
One of the questions we are looking to explore further is
how the Intifada can be a popular movement that reaches beyond
suicide bombing, a movement that can truly liberate the oppressed
and the oppressor, (for one cannot be liberated without the
other), and a movement that can be a global struggle.
We feel
honored to be here. Thank you to everyone who is supporting
us from home, and know that we are doing our best to communicate
your support to the people that we meet. We have promised
the Palestinians we have met that we will carry their stories
to the United States, and that hopefully we can all help to
bring down the wall and to end this immoral occupation.
Amongst
the olives,
In love and solidarity,
Hilary and S’ra
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S’ra Desantis is
a vegetable farmer with the Diggers Mirth Collective Farm
in Burlington’s Intervale. She works with the Institute
for Social Ecology’s Biotechnology Project and is on
the Board of Directors of the Action for Social and Ecological
Justice (ASEJ), an organization that does solidarity work
in Mexico and Central America.
Hilary Martin is also a vegetable farmer
with the Diggers Mirth Collective Farm in Burlington’s
Intervale. She is a member of the Free Radio Burlington Collective.
She spends her winters with her partner in the Bronx.
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