I just heard about the suicide bombing at a Palestinian owned restaurant in Haifa. My first thought is that of mourning – it’s awful that 19 people lost their lives today in this way. My second thought enters quickly, though, and is one of practicality: this will not mean good things for Palestinians in the coming days. I wish I did not have to think this way, but my life is now directly affected by Israel’s policy of collective punishment. Of course, the West Bank has already been under closure for a full day, so clearly even closure does not stop people from carrying out attacks (and probably contributes to it).
The purpose of this letter, however, is to describe the past couple days, during which I stayed in the house of a family whose house is scheduled to be demolished any day now. Azmi’s land and house were part of the village Aras until the Wall came through town and left him on the Jbarra side (like 16 other villages, Jbarra is now caught between the Green Line and the Wall, and will presumably be annexed into Israel eventually). The security road now runs right past his house, and there is a gap in the barbed wire that will undoubtedly be filled in if they succeed in demolishing his home. The army has claimed unconvincingly that the demolition has nothing to do with the Wall, and that they want to demolish his home because he did not have a permit to build it. Why didn’t he have a permit? Well, he tried to obtain one, and was denied because he wanted to build on “agricultural land.” His response: If this is agricultural land, why is there a settlement right there? Why do they have the right to build? But of course, this is how the system works here.
Let me explain a bit about the Wall. In some places (around the city of Qalqilya, for example), it is a 30-foot concrete wall. In other places, it is a fence, but this ‘fence’ takes up 50-100 meters in width. There is barbed wire, then a security road (for jeeps and police), then the big fence itself, then a road for tanks, then a ditch, and then another fence. In Jbarra, there is a gate for children and teachers to walk through to go to school (Jbarra and Aras share a school on the Aras side of the fence), and soldiers open this gate for about a half hour each morning and each afternoon… except when they don’t.
Last night I was hanging out with the family and practicing Arabic with Azmi’s 13-year-old daughter Abeer when one of Azmi’s sons came home and said, “We can’t get to Tulkarem. The checkpoint is closed until Wednesday because of the holiday.” Yom Kippur begins Sunday evening at sundown and ends Monday evening at sundown, but apparently the army has decided that the West Bank will be under closure from Friday evening through Wednesday (or at least that’s what these soldiers told these Palestinians at this moment). Since the checkpoint is located at the entrance of Jbarra, this means that people in Jbarra are literally imprisoned right now, even more so than usual.
Soon after, we noticed that a jeep was at the gate (about a kilometer from Azmi’s house). Azmi’s relatives were visiting from Israel (from Jaffa, outside of Tel Aviv), and their car was parked near the gate, so Azmi went to investigate. He called a half hour later to tell us that the soldiers had taken his ID from him and left, so he was sitting in the car waiting for them to return. Meanwhile, a jeep (the same one?) pulled up to our house. Immediately, the laughter and conversation stopped and some people tried to shove me and the other international into the house. Someone else said, “No, let them stay, we can have guests if we want,” so we stayed on the porch. The jeep stopped at the entrance of the driveway, which was probably good, because earlier that day Azmi had built his own roadblock (a stone wall) on the path in his backyard where jeeps often drive. I can’t wait for the jeep to pull up there and for Azmi to ask for ID, as he has promised to do, but seeing as he was sitting a kilometer down the road without his own ID at this moment, I was glad the jeep stopped before seeing the wall.
The soldiers claimed that two “terrorists” had jumped over the fence and were probably in the fields somewhere, so the soldiers would be wandering around the land looking for them. Why they felt the need to park in Azmi’s driveway was unclear. We began to hear helicopters, planes, and vehicles, and saw flares on parachutes falling from the sky to light up certain areas. Eventually the soldiers left the house and Azmi got tired of waiting and came home without his ID.
Meanwhile, the man I was supposed to meet at 6am today called to say he was stuck on the Tulkarem side of the checkpoint and would be going back to Tulkarem to sleep because he couldn’t get home. I decided to get up early anyway (not that there’s much of a choice in a house with 12 people) and walk to the gate. On the way I noticed the army telling the children to go home. The hummer then began to drive towards me, and the soldiers stopped and asked what I was doing. I said, “Why can’t the children go to school?” One man shrugged his shoulders and continued to eat his gummy bears, and all four pretended not to speak English. Of course, I pretended not to speak Hebrew, so I suppose we were even. I continued on my way and met the children and Abu Abdallah, a man I know from the town. Some of the children had left, but some were still hoping the army might come back and open the gate.
The army did come back at one point, and I asked again, “Why won’t you let these children go to school?” “Orders,” one responded. He explained that two terrorists had jumped over the fence the night before, so school would be closed for a few days. I pointed to the kids and said, “Are they terrorists?” The soldier replied, “Well, no, but sometimes terrorists dress as children.” I looked at him incredulously and returned to the group of Palestinians. Abu Abdallah told me, “They weren’t ‘terrorists.’ People jump over the fence every night trying to get to work. The army just decided to cause trouble today.” Perhaps ‘every night’ is an exaggeration, perhaps not, but the fact that people can so easily jump the fence surprised me. Then again, desperate people can find a way to do almost anything. Just one more indication that this isn’t a “security” fence at all, but an attempt for Israel to create “facts on the ground” and grab more land from Palestinians.
Abu Abdallah pointed to the greenhouses on the other side of the fence and said, “Those are mine, and I can’t get there to work anymore.” He showed me the pipe he had connected from a water tank in Jbarra to the greenhouses several hundred meters away. The army had broken the pipe once, he had fixed it, and now they’ve cut it again. We talk more, and Abu Abdallah says, “How can these children learn if they can’t go to school? How can they grow up to be anything but terrorists if their land is taken, their homes are demolished, and they can’t go to school or work?” Lately I have wondered the same thing. I stand at checkpoints or stay at houses about to be demolished, I see the way many soldiers treat Palestinians, and I think it’s truly amazing that there isn’t more violence carried out by Palestinians against Israelis. If I ever figure out why millions of Palestinians remain entirely peaceful in the face of such glaring violence, I’ll be sure to let you all know.
A closing thought: The Wall/fence is not for security. If it were, it would not be built entirely on Palestinian land, annexing several thousand Palestinians into the possible future border of Israel. Furthermore, people who are willing to kill themselves for a cause will find a way to do so. I know it is difficult for any authority to admit a lack of control, but this is a necessary step in bringing peace. Not only do Israel’s policies fail to prevent attacks, they encourage them. Nobody is born a terrorist. Israel’s policy of collective punishment – imprisoning all Palestinians and maintaining a system of Apartheid – actually creates terrorists.
I would make my reports double this size if I thought you all would read them. Because I haven’t, I realize I am leaving many points of explanation out. I hate misunderstandings, so if you have any questions about anything I write, please ask. I promise to get back to you as soon as I can.
Keep on working for peace, in whatever ways you choose…
Hannah
P.S. You may wonder how I’ve gotten home to the computer if the Jbarra checkpoint is closed. I consciously used my American privilege (or really, my non-Palestinian privilege, since closure is often only enforced on Palestinians, not internationals and certainly not Israeli settlers) to get through the checkpoint.
P.P.S. I have decided to include an Arabic phrase of the day in each report. Today’s is: Ihtilaal harban (the occupation is rotten).
