At 7:00 this morning, Kate and I accompanied our neighbor Mariam to her trees that had been cut by the nearby settlement, Revava. She wanted to bring the branches back for firewood so that she could make bread. We arrived at her land, and began to gather the wood. About 5 minutes later a loud alarm went off. It sounded like an amplified car alarm, but we thought we had probably stepped in front of a settlement sensor. When it continued for 5 minutes without any sign of security or army, we thought perhaps it was a car alarm after all. About 10 minutes later, however, a jeep pulled up nearby and three soldiers marched towards us. They informed us that we were trespassing and we explained that this was the land of the woman who had come to gather her wood. “Whose trees are these?” I asked the soldiers. They gave us many reasons why we couldn’t be where we were: we were within a certain number of meters to the settlement, we had crossed a road to get where we were, etc. Of course, the land and the trees are much older than the settlement and the road, but these soldiers would only recognize the arbitrary borders and rules that Israel has created.
We explained several times that if the soldiers just left us alone, we would gather the wood and leave within a half hour. One soldier responded with, “Get the fuck out of here.”
“That’s not a very nice way to talk to people,” I said.
“It’s a very nice fucking way!” he responded.
I was impressed with his English grammar, but unimpressed with the way he was treating us. The soldiers continued to hassle Mariam because she had not brought ID with her. She explained that she didn’t know soldiers would be there and merely left her house for a short trip to gather her wood from her land.
“Shut up,” the soldier told her in Arabic (this seemed to be the only Arabic he knew).
We asked the soldiers, “What’s the problem?”
The English speaker responded: “A woman blew herself up in a restaurant in Haifa. Remember?”
“Okay,” I said, “but none of us did that. If you think we’re here to blow something up, check our bags.”
The back-and-forth went on for a little while, and at some point the soldiers made the decision that we were not allowed to leave (remember, they originally told us to leave the land).
“This is ridiculous. Why are you doing this? Don’t you have anything better to do?” we kept asking.
Finally one soldier said, “I’m bored.”
“So you’re harassing us because you’re bored?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said very clearly. I couldn’t believe it. I often notice that soldiers give me a hard time when they’re bored, but never has one actually admitted this to me.
“Would you do this to your mother?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “My mother doesn’t blow things up.”
“Neither does this woman,” I replied, as calmly as I could.
“But maybe her children,” he said.
“And maybe your mother’s children stand around scaring people with guns,” I said.
We tried everything we could, but if a group of soldiers is bored and wants to harass people, they can do it here with impunity.
By a stroke of luck, the army seemed unable to get a hold of the police (maybe it was to our advantage that today is Shabbat), and finally they said they would let us go, informing us that if anyone ever came back to the land, they would arrest the people. One soldier also told Kate that he has seen her too many times and will make it his personal business to try to get her thrown out of the country.
Two soldiers followed us closely as we made our way back through the fields, and when I turned around to look at one of them, he began to tap his gun loudly. When we reached the road they said, “Come here.” We turned around and one said condescendingly, “This is a road. You cannot cross this road.” We walked away, and Mariam explained that her heart was beating fast and she had been extremely afraid. All the way back to her house, she had her hand on her chest and periodically laughed nervously. She invited us in, and from her house we looked out at all the land that has been gobbled up by settlements and settlement roads. “I can’t make bread without wood,” she told us again. We told her we would try to contact a group that could obtain permission for her to go to her land one day. This is something we hesitate to do, because on principle we do not ask the army and the government for permission for people to be where they have a right to be. Every time we ask permission, we legitimize the occupation a little more. But of course, when people are hungry, the issue becomes more complicated.
The soldiers today seemed to have pure malice in their hearts during our interaction, but I hope they too will tire of the occupation. We often say that if all Palestinians refuse to cooperate, the occupation will not survive. It’s also true that if all soldiers refuse to participate, the occupation cannot survive. Yesterday, on our way home from a visit to the Christian Peacemaker Teams (CPT) in Hebron, a soldier at a checkpoint asked us what we were doing.
“Visiting,” Kate replied, and then asked him, “What are you doing?”
“I don’t know,” said the soldier, and he really seemed to mean it.
“That’s the problem,” said Kate.
The soldier did not reply.
According to CPT, the curfew situation in Hebron is far better than it was last year. We asked why they think curfew has not been imposed in Hebron in almost 3 months. They speculate that it is so difficult and absurd to try to enforce curfew that the reservists have refused to do it. Unfortunately, the 400 settlers of Hebron continue to hold the city hostage, and 160,000 Palestinians live under constant fear from both settlers and soldiers. The settlers of Hebron are a different breed altogether. Never have I seen so much Hebrew graffiti saying “Death to Arabs.” One African American member of CPT showed us a wall directly across the street from their house. Written on it was: “White Power. Kill Niggers.” It had been crossed out, probably, he said, to avoid the perception of settlers as racist. If there was any doubt, though, we later saw graffiti that read, “ARABS TO THE GAS CHAMBERS” and was signed “JDL” (Jewish Defense League).
For the most part, the visit to CPT was actually quite pleasant, and it was good to get to know another group with a similar long-term presence model as ours. I am too tired from today’s events and the recounting of disturbing encounters, however, to write anymore now. Tomorrow I will be participating in activities for the International Day of Action against the Wall, and Monday I leave. I’ll spend 3 days in Paris at a meeting about Palestine, and then return to the US. I’ll write one last e-mail sometime in the next week. For now, take care. Please keep everyone in this region in your hearts and minds, and send them strength, hope, and empathy.
Peace,
Hannah
