I realized today that part of what’s been so hard for me during this past week and a half is that I have a very clear concept of the destruction of life, but not a grounding in the life itself. I’ve seen the taking, but not what’s being taken. I’ve come straight into a world that is in complete upheaval and haven’t had a ‘normal’ day in Palestine. It’s true that I’ve been here before, but I forget things, and I can only imagine that it’s much harder to understand for those of you who have never been here at all. So I’m happy to report that I had a wonderful night with a family in Deir Ballut last night, and my past 24 hours have been relatively quiet. I’d like to give you a glimpse into life in the village of Deir Ballut.
At around 7 or 8 last night, we received a call from Fatima saying that the women of Deir Ballut wanted to have a meeting and plan an action for 6 am the next day (today). Deir Ballut, with a population of 4,000, is one of three villages (with Az Zawiya and Rafat) that will lose over 90% of its land when it becomes trapped in an enclave of the Wall. The village invited us to come and stay the night, so we made a quick decision to send 3 of us to Deir Ballut to see what was happening. We picked up Fatima on the way, and were greeted warmly when we arrived, which is typical in Palestine. Nobody seemed to know whether there was a meeting or where it was, which unfortunately is also quite typical. We spent a good amount of time trying to contact the women of the village and the mayor, and in the meantime we talked, laughed, and watched a strange Hollywood film with aliens, half-naked women, and other elements that one of our hosts insisted were regular aspects of American culture.
I had forgotten about the incredible power of women’s affection here. As we sat and talked, the mother of the house braided my hair and her daughter made tea. We laughed with each other and discussed the meanings of our names. The youngest daughter is also named Hannah (it’s a common Arabic name), and the family reminded me of its meaning: contentment.
The women in Deir Ballut have a different relationship to their land than in some other villages. Most Palestinians are both attached to and dependent upon their land, and in Deir Ballut it is primarily the women who work the land. The men used to work in Israel, and now that they’re forbidden to enter Israel, some of them work in places like Ramallah and others don’t have jobs at all. Like almost every village in the West Bank, Deir Ballut has thousands of olive trees, but they also grow a wide variety of other things: potatoes, eggplants, almonds, beans, garlic, onions, cucumbers, tomatoes, and more.
In addition to Deir Ballut’s 4,000 residents, over 1,000 people from the village are now living abroad, many of whom are in Brazil and Venezuela. The family we visited with has many relatives in Brazil, and most of them have spent time there themselves. We managed to understand each other quite a bit when I spoke Spanish and they responded in Portuguese. Of course, there was much Arabic, English, and Hebrew thrown into the evening as well.
The older woman who had braided my hair took me to the roof at one point when I asked about the Wall. The bulldozers work most of the night, she explained, and sure enough we could see the lights of the army jeep in the distance and hear the faint noise of the uprooting of trees. The rest of the land looked absolutely peaceful, the sky was full of stars, and even the sound of the bulldozer blended eerily with the breeze.
We returned downstairs and finally someone had contacted the mayor, who came over around 11:00. He was worried about a demonstration, he said, and it didn’t seem people were organized enough to pull it off yet. I could see his stress, knowing that his village will be encroached upon so severely by the Wall, but also worrying about his people being injured. Ambulances can’t get to the land very easily, he explained, and if people were hit by gas or bullets, they wouldn’t make it to the hospital on time (Deir Ballut doesn’t even have a proper clinic). There hadn’t been a proper meeting of women or anyone else in the village, so people decided they couldn’t possibly plan an action for the morning. Fatima decided she would rather be hungry than angry about it, so we had a small meal sometime after midnight and managed to stay awake for a few more laughs and some conversation.
This morning we returned home to Hares, and though I was disappointed that the women had not organized an early morning action, I was somewhat relieved to know I wouldn’t be spending my day marching towards soldiers of the fourth largest army in the world. Tomorrow morning Deir Ballut will have a demonstration. I have no doubt that we will all face tear gas and possibly other weapons again, but I hope that my fear may be lessened and my purpose heightened by the knowledge of the beauty that these people are trying so desperately to hold onto.
