Tuesday evening Nijmie, Jean, and I headed to Jayyus to support Palestinian farmers who had been locked out of their land for 4 days. Like in so many other villages, the Wall has come through Jayyus and separated hundreds of farmers from their land. Every morning, afternoon, and evening, the army is supposed to open the gate and let the farmers through, but this doesn’t always happen.
When we got to Jayyus, we learned that the closure of the West Bank, which had been announced Friday evening and selectively enforced since then, would continue for Wednesday and Thursday. Of course, the farmers still needed to get to their land and 40 internationals had shown up to support them, so the action was on. We would specifically try to get through the gate in the Wall, continue to Zufin settlement, which has stolen land from many families, and pick olives with these families.
Wednesday morning, we headed to the gate and were met by a busload from Rabbis for Human Rights. We were all disappointed that only about 25 farmers seemed to be there, but more came throughout the day. Some young men from the village had caused a bit of damage to the wire fence the night before, so there was enough space to pass equipment through it. I saw one man come running out of the trees on the other side and run up to the hole in the fence. A woman, presumably his wife, handed him a bag of farm equipment and he ran back into the fields. The woman started to cry as she held the fence and turned her head away from the cameras that were starting to take notice. I wasn’t sure whether she was crying because of this arbitrary separation from her land or because her husband felt the need to sleep in the fields so he could work. I assume it was a combination of both.
Some Palestinians had determined that the gate was actually unlocked, but people seemed scared to walk through (I’ve heard that keeping the gate unlocked is a relatively common psychological game the soldiers play). As people were talking about what to do, we saw an army jeep winding around the security road. The internationals sat down in front of the gate with enough space for it to be opened. The soldiers immediately locked the gate and left. We began our plan of having a sit-in, but with the army now gone and with people so frustrated, a few Palestinians took matters into their own hands. In just a couple minutes, they broke open the gate and the crowd erupted in applause. Farmers started to walk and ride through, with internationals on the sides in case the army returned. The gate supposedly has sensors, but we were hanging around the gate for at least a half hour after it was open, and no authorities returned. Perhaps they were waiting for later to retaliate, we worried. But the act of breaking the gate – largely symbolic but real in the sense that farmers would get to pick today – gave people a sense of triumph in those early morning hours.
People split up, and most of us marched to Zufin, only to find that the farmers whose olive trees were in the settlement were not there. Some had not shown up at the gate and some had shown up too late and were not able to get in. We split again, some people going back to monitor the gate, some picking olives with other families, and some (including myself) continuing on to find more farmers. We hiked several kilometers looking for other farmers with land in the area and finally came upon a few farmers with greenhouses. We picked cucumbers for several hours and tried to keep in touch with people back at the gate, but cell phone reception was shaky and batteries were running out. We did hear that with 15 media people there, the army seemed to be letting farmers go to their lands without checking their IDs, at least for a certain period of time. Shortly after, we heard that security had done a sweep of the land and tried to force all the farmers to go home.
At one point, we heard that 3 internationals had been arrested. Apparently they were held very briefly, probably not officially arrested, and put on a bus to Tel Aviv with instructions not to return to the West Bank. Some time later, we were told that people would try to go back through the gate at 5 pm, so we began to head back. We got another call that the army had arrested 2 more internationals and 2 Palestinians. As people in the village heard, they headed down to the gate again, and the army immediately threw tear gas across the gate, which wafted up the hill. People continued, and the army threw more tear gas. People then dispersed into the trees, but came out again to watch what was happening. One army jeep then roared into the village, and the soldiers got out and apparently began to chase Palestinians through the village on foot.
Meanwhile, my group was still beginning its trek back to the village. One farmer we were working with gave us a ride most of the way on his tractor, but was afraid to approach the gate, and afraid of repercussions in the coming days, so he dropped us off at one point and headed back to his fields to sleep. We continued on foot, and I saw a white truck drive by with “TV” written on it. I recognized John Burns from the New York Times as the driver, and we tried to flag down the car, but it kept driving. I quickly called him on his cell phone, which he didn’t answer, but after a few minutes the car returned. Again they were going to drive past us but I managed to convince them to stop. John got out to talk on his phone and I spoke with the other three people in the car. I told them we were heading back to the gate and it would really help to have some media presence. The reporters responded by saying that they had been filming earlier, and were forced to stop. The army had told them to leave the security road and vowed to arrest them if they returned. I have to admit I think it might be an interesting wake-up call for reporters from the New York Times to get arrested, but it meant that they had no desire to help us in this situation, so we continued on our way. We then saw the border police drive by with the blindfolded arrestees in the back. We figured they were heading to the settlement for interrogation.
When we got to the gate, internationals on the other side began to clap for us (we found this interesting, since they were the ones who dealt with tear gas and soldiers all day as we picked cucumbers). No words passed between us and the soldiers as they opened the gate for the 7 internationals, an older woman, and a man with his donkey to enter the village. As we walked up the hill, people suddenly started to scream, “You’ve got to be kidding!” and “What is the world coming to?!” I turned around and asked, “Is there another jeep coming?” “No,” replied one Californian, “Arnold Schwarzenegger won!” [I mentioned this later to a group of people and one Swede said, “He won what?” I said, “He’s the new governor of California.” The Swedish man just began to laugh.]
We got back to the ISM house and people began to debrief. The comment that struck me most came from another Swedish man who said, “I was out there all day picking olives with a wonderful family, and really forgot about the occupation as I participated in the normal, daily life activities of one woman. Then I returned to find yelling and tear gas, saw my friends blindfolded in the back of a jeep, and saw 18-year-old kids laughing and enjoying themselves as they destroy this perfect world.”
I will shorten the story from here, but will say that by the end of the night we had information that all 4 arrestees had been released, and people went to sleep relieved. Nijmie, Jean, and I woke up early to come back to Haris. We had heard that closure was being seriously enforced (some people say the army intentionally waits at least a few days after a big suicide attack for closure to kick in, because they want to make it absolutely clear to the Palestinians that it is for punishment and not for security. Many soldiers have confirmed this, but clearly Sharon prefers to show the world an image of security and not collective punishment.).
We got to Funduq with little trouble, but the ride from Funduq to Haris was another question. Nobody seemed to want to go, and taxi drivers kept getting messages that “flying checkpoints” had been set up at various points along the road. Some Palestinians suggested we get a yellow-plated car (Israeli – not stopped at checkpoints), but we prefer to support Palestinians, so we found a green- and white-plated driver willing to take us. Sure enough, shortly after we started our journey, we were stopped. Nijmie and I got out of the car and asked why the Palestinians weren’t allowed through. “Closure,” the soldier responded. We didn’t get much more information than this, but our driver managed to negotiate with the soldier by saying he only had three internationals in his car, promised not to pick anyone else up, would only take us to Haris and then return, and would leave his ID with the soldier while he did this. We continued on the road, and out of nowhere four soldiers lunged into the street. They were probably just getting there, but perhaps they did this to every Palestinian car, just to startle people. Of course, our driver didn’t have his ID to show the soldiers, but he explained the situation and one soldier was ready to let us go. Another soldier jumped in and started yelling at the driver, clearly bored at the prospect of sitting near an empty road all day. Finally they let us go, and I have to say I cringed upon hearing our driver say in Hebrew, “Thank you very much,” as he drove away. The fear among Palestinians, which leads to deference even in the face of humiliation, really upsets me. The power dynamic is so clear here, and yet people continue to claim that Israelis are afraid of Palestinians. I do believe that some Israelis are afraid of traveling on buses because of the thought of suicide bombers. Within Palestine, however, why would people build settlements right next to Palestinian villages if they were so scared of their neighbors? Why would they storm into Palestinian towns, wander around, drink from people’s wells, and return to their settlements (this happens in Yanoun) if they were really so scared? It becomes clearer and clearer that nothing really happens for security reasons, but it continues to be an effective disguise for Sharon’s policy of stealing land.
Well, we did get back to Haris, though the soldiers at our roadblock were being extra rude and were carrying more visible weapons than usual. They refused to let us through at first. Nijmie responded, “I know what closure means, and I know how badly you treat Palestinians here, but closure doesn’t apply to internationals, so what’s the problem?” After a bit of a wait and a thorough bag search, we were let through and came home. We met Abu Rabia on the road (our landlord), who confirmed what we had heard from other IWPSers – that the army had entered the village yesterday, and began arresting people. Abu Rabia stepped in when a soldier was trying to beat someone up, so the soldier turned from the first man and took Abu Rabia into the jeep. He sat blindfolded for about an hour, he told us, and had a conversation with the soldier, who told Abu Rabia that if it were up to him, he’d kill all the Palestinians. He ordered Abu Rabia to warn everyone in the village not to intervene in soldiers’ actions, to which Abu Rabia responded, “I’m not your servant. You have your guns, you have the weapons and the power, you can do whatever you want to us. Don’t use us.” He told us that he thinks he may have gotten through to the soldier at the very end when he said, “You’re going to grow up and look into yourself and look back at what you’ve done, and you will not be happy with it. If I were still who I was at your age, I would be fighting against you right now. But I’ve grown, and I’ve learned.”
May we all continue to learn peace, and unlearn the violence we are taught to embrace or ignore.
Love Hannah
