Marhaba, Shalom, Hey,

I am writing you from Tulkarem, a pretty large town (44,000) in the West Bank on the Green Line (1967 line separating the Israelis and the Palestinians). We arrived here a couple nights ago via taxis, walking around roadblocks and then taxis, and then more walking. There has been a curfew here for the past two months with only a few days or hours when it has been lifted. The past few days have really shifted me into the reality of life here under Israeli military occupation. Overwhelming to the point that it might be difficult to explain. For those of you have been receiving my emails, this is a bit of repeat, but i had some difficulties and so I am resending some already expressed ideas.

I arrived with my friends Tracie and Michelle last Wednesday night. On Friday, we left Jerusalem with 4 other internationals as they call anybody that has come to do observing, peacekeeping, nonviolent direct action, or humanitarian work in Palestine. We drove from Jerusalem to the drop-off point at the checkpoint into the Bethlehem area. We were simply waved through and did not have to show our passports to the young Ethiopian Israeli soldier who was checking the documents of the Palestinian man at the entry to the checkpoint. We jumped in a couple cabs and drove to the 3 Kings Hotel in Beit Sahour where our training for our work took place. The Bethlehem area had built up hotels and the general tourist industry for Christmas and New Years in 2000, but since the Intifada, there have not been many tourists passing through. So many folks were happy to see us and the hospitality with coffee and tea and breakfast spreads like you've never seen.

We spent two days and two nights in Beit Sahour in training for our involvement in the International Solidarity Movement. We received a general historical background of non-violent resistance to the Israeli military occupation of the West Bank, and talked about more recent actions involving non-violent civil disobedience, and other nonviolent means to stop the violence and seek peace and justice. We learned a lot about the issues associated with the disproportionate water allocations in the West Bank- only 18% is accessible to Palestinians, while 82% is distributed to the settlers who make up a very small (10%) percentage of the population living in that land. We discussed nonviolent strategies in the case of confrontation with Israeli soldiers or settlers, both individually and if in a group. A brief rundown of the different military vehicles and military weapons we might encounter was really rather frightening, but helpful and useful information. We received pretty up to date information of what has been happening most recently in different parts of the West Bank. The other people in our training left on Saturday to head out to Nablus but we decided to join the volunteers that were in Tulkarem since there were not as many folks out there and international presence is necessary. We left Beit Sahour on Sunday and took a cab to a road block at the entrance to a Palestinian village called Azun. We met Osama, our fearless Palestinian coordinator for the Tulkarem - Qalqiliya area. He had arranged for us some meetings in the villages with the mayors and the farmers who live in some of the 16 villages in the Qalqiliya-Tulkarem-Salfit area, where I have been spending the past few days.

The land itself is in what Israel calls the "agricultural line". It is beautiful land that is covered with rows and rows of groves and orchards and greenhouses of olives, almonds, lemons, okra, cucumbers, tomatoes, squash, peppers, onions, eggplants, mangos, avocados, apples, peaches,figs... We got personal tours by farmers of their lands, already broken up by Israeli settlements and roads used to connect settlements to each other and to Israel.

Last week Israeli military sent in surveyors accompanied by bulldozers and Israeli soldiers to mark up the areas of land where they are going to build a fence that is part of the wall which Israel is building to separate Israel from the West Bank. In building this wall, Palestinian farm land is being illegally confiscated by the Israeli government through military force. The Green Line is being moved up to 6 kilometers into the West Bank, eating up some 80,000 dunams of farm land (1 dunam = 1/4+ acre), and some 50 wells which are part of the Western Aquifer Area of the West Bank. These farms are the livelihood of these villages. While we walked the land, more and more farmers and their families approached us to have their stories heard, their pictures taken, their voices recorded. Everybody wanted to tell us about how this will be affecting their lives, their childrens' lives their future. The consequences for these families is utter and complete economic devastation.

The timing of the notification of the plans for the beginning of demolitions is apparently very strategic as the Jewish holidays are now under way in Israel. Last Friday, Israeli civil administration and military personnel notified farmers of the immediate seizure of the land by attaching to trees packets of maps and hand written documents with explanations of the reasons (prevention of terrorism, security) and locations of the lands to be confiscated, as well as the layout of a military security road surrounded by electrical fencing and trenches which will essentially replace the internationally recognized Green Line, annexing Israeli settlements... ughhh... The notification that the farmers received said they had 7 days to protest the "military order" at the office of the military general at the Kedumim settlement. Because of the holidays, the office has been closed, and Palestinian towns and villages have been under curfew, making it impossible to protest (not to mention the general is on vacation till the end of the month).

I don't know how much more I can write at this time. I am writing from Tulkarem, where curfew has been 24-hour lockdown over the past 6 days. My first full day here was yesterday on what has been called a tough lock-down situation: tanks riding through the streets all day shooting in the streets at nothing and no one- at buildings, and into the air. At the Red Crescent Society where we are staying, a parked ambulence was shot 5 times, blowing out a tire and breaking one of the windows in the rear windshield, making it inoperable. One of the other ambulences was destroyed last week when a tank ran into its side. Tracie, Michelle, and I along with 3 other internationals (Flo, Garrick, and Jennifer) are helping to organize media attention to the urgent situation in these farming villages. This friday there will be a prayer service and a march with over 1000 farmers and villagers in one of the villages affected by the situation. Curfew is being re-imposed as it is getting dark and the hustle and bustle of a day without curfew settles. Soon the soldiers will be riding in tanks in the streets re-announcing with gunshots and loudspeakers that all must go back inside and not come out till they return at 7am to let us know if the day will be with or without curfew.

There is so much more to write, so many conversations, insights, thougths, fears, observations, questions...

I would love to hear from y'all if you feel like writing back. I promise to be a bit better about communication. Just trying to figure out these group list things. Feel free to call, although I don't always answer, and don't always get reception in the villages. Don't forget the 10 hour time difference from California time.

Much love,
Lisa
011.972.52.272524



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Sunday
15.September.2002
Update #2 from Tulkarem

Hey y'all,

First and foremost I have received many questions and comments about the situation and on my thoughts, observations, and experiences, some supportive, some questioning, some challenging, and some that I have found very offensive. I have had a difficult time finding time and knowing how to appropriately respond at this time. In the midst of experiencing what I have been seeing, hearing, and feeling here, it is overwhelming to feel like explaining and defending my choice and my beliefs, especially to those who have never seen the land and people here who's existences are being changed dramatically each day as a result of the occupation. It is important for you to know what I am encountering here to shed insight into my choices and my beliefs, and I will try to be as open and honest with you as I can- although I tend to avoid possible confrontation. I am appreciative of your interest and curiosity in my time here, and please know I am thinking about your responses, although finding and making the time to respond is difficult.

I think I last wrote on Wednesday night-and it is now Sunday night, so I will begin a quick catch-up to bring you up to speed...

Thursday-
Our group went on a tour of the Tulkarem refugee camp. Refugee camps are the most densely populated areas of Palestine. The average home in Tulkarem camp has between 10 and 14 people living there and can have up to 17 people in one home. Approximately 16,000 people live in the 15 acres of the Tulkarem refugee camp. Some 6,000 of the refugees have been in the camp since 1948 when they became refugees who were either moved by force or chose to move because of threatened attacks in Haifa, Netanya, and Tel Aviv before and during the War of Independence (what Palestinians call "Nakba" - The Catastrophe). Many more refugees moved into the camps after 1967. The camp originally was an ad-hoc community of tents and sheets, but now is much like any other town or city, with (over $1.6 million in debt of) water and electricity. The buildings are built packed next to each other and are 3 or more stories tall as they build up, since they cannot build out.

Imagine a maze of narrow streets, winding alley ways and secret passages, little creatures (kids) following us around to explore the unfamiliar faces. We visited the homes of "martyrs" throughout the camp whose photos were on the walls of the camps and on the t-shirts of the children and young men walking around. "Martyr" is not a word used here to refer only to "resistance fighters" or "militants," or "terrorists," but generally refers to ANYBODY- men, women, or children- who has died as a result of the occupation- a suicide bomber is seen as a martyr as much as a child killed walking down the street or a woman who died at a checkpoint giving birth. Each of these are martyrs because each of these deaths are a considered a result of the occupation).

We went to the home of a family whose 10 year old son was killed on May 5 of this year at 4:15pm. His mother explained to us how the events unfolded that day... He was at school near the entrance of the refugee camp kicking a ball around as the kids do in the streets, even under curfew (a CLEAR example of non-violent civil disobedience), and a tank that was parked outside the gate of the school began to shoot. He died within 5 minutes of a gunshot wound that entered in the right side of his abdomen and left his body through the left side. He was not throwing stones, or provoking or threatening the soldiers who are quite well protected in a monstrous tank. You can make up hypothetical situations if you will, that there was somebody behind him shooting at a tank, but the fact of the matter is- it doesn't matter. What were the tanks doing rolling through this Palestinian town shooting at school kids? How does the tank, shooting at the air, at the buildings, at this 10 year old child, protect Israelis? This killing was never investigated by the Israeli Army. This was the second time I was not able to hold back the tears- in front of this woman, a mother, still mourning and crying over her son, who could not look at my teared eyes. My tears gave her hope- For that brief moment she recognized that her pain was being shared by someone. These moments are why I am here- to remember and give face to the innocents.

We went to a home where a man shared with us a story which began, "My brother, a simple farmer, was killed while working on his farm"... his farm is only 200 meters from his home. His 12 year old son was present when the tank drove by shooting, and his father told him he had been hit and that he must go and get help- the son ran back to the home to try to get help but by the time he returned, his father was dead. This man telling us of the story of his brother's death, went on to tell us that even with this, "I still think of peace, my brain is only thinking of peace, peace is everything, peace is the solution, we want to live together... since 1948, we are surviving." He spoke of his land in Hadera near Tel Aviv and said, "my father had 100 dunams, i have the key... i give you my land, share my land."

At this point things get rather hairy, or sticky or... nervous? We were trying to get out of the camp as the rounds of gunfire reminded us of the time- 5:55pm, as it was getting close to the time curfew was to be imposed again- 6:00pm... We saw an armed Palestinian fighter in the camp, and we were informed by our Palestinian guide that there had been an attack (shooting) on a settler car one hour prior and that the camp was "preparing" for an expected attack. I instantly smelled the familiar smell (from my protesting days in Seattle) of tear gas and we quickly realized that the camp had been tear gassed. We weaved our way out of the camp and found our way back to the Palestinian Red Crescent Society (where we are staying) for a meeting on the roof. At the end of our meeting, we began to notice more tear gas which brought us all to tears, "crying"... That was at 7:30 which began an intense experience of a heavy attack on Tulkarem which lasted until 10:30 that night. For the second time since our time at the Red Crescent, a tear gas canister was thrown into the dispatch area where the ambulances are parked and a hospital personnel stays watch at the entrance to the Red Crescent.

For hours we anxiously waited through heavy machine gun fire and tank activity noises that I am slowly growing accustomed to. We waited in our room when things appeared to be calm, and would go down stairs when they seemed to be heating up again to sit with the ambulance drivers who were mostly being continuously dispatched as there were a number of injuries throughout the night. The shots and tanks returned and were literally right outside our window, aimed toward the refugee camp and the school outside... The shots were frighteningly loud and shook us up a bit, not knowing exactly where they were headed... At about 10pm, the tanks returned for a final round of shooting, they shot out one of the main water lines to the town of Tulkarem... shooting out the knob needed to turn the water off, so the water was running down the street. In the midst of all this we had the feeling it would go on forever, although it seemed to die down shortly thereafter.

Friday-
Awaking the next morning to head out to the villages for a prayer ceremony and march with the farmers from Izbet Salman and Beit Amin, we woke up to curfew (not surprising)... We knew this could mean potential trouble getting out of Tulkarem and into the villages we wanted to get to. We headed out early, giving us enough time to get there. After crossing our first roadblock, we quickly crossed the road that is frequently patrolled by soldiers and settlers (the road where the attack was the prior afternoon). We were not quick enough in crossing and our group of 6 internationals and our Palestinian guide Osama were stopped for 30 minutes at this roadblock/ad-hoc checkpoint. The 18/19 year old soldiers had a quiet discussion in Hebrew as to what to do with us, one saying, "Check their passports"- the other saying, "Why? They are not Palestinian or Israeli- why do we care?" Then "Send them back to Tulkarem" and the other saying, "Why? Just let them go through to where they're wanting to go." The decision was apparently arbitrary depending on who was there, and we were asked very few questions. It was harmless really, but more of a time inconvenience, and we were waiting in the hot sun while there was discussion and phone conversations about what to do with us... This is something that happens everyday for teachers, doctors, mothers, students... for "security". (These roadblocks are in addition to the established checkpoints which are monitored by Israeli tanks and soldiers at the entrances to villages, towns, settlements, and along the driveable borders between the West Bank and Israel).

We eventually made our way to the villages and met up with Palestinian farmers gathered in the village of Beit Amin to pray on their land, which will be inside the fence the Israeli military is currently preparing for. There were a number of Israeli military jeeps looking through their binoculars at the 300+ Palestinians with signs reading, "Another Brick in the Wall" and "Stop Stealing Palestinian Land and Water." After the prayer ceremony, the farmers, their families and the group of internationals, including four Israelis, marched to the neighboring community of Izbet Salman. Elders and their children climbed up the rocky mountains to reach the top to overlook the area of fertile farmland. There was a lot of local and some international press there to cover the action. I was interviewed by Al Jazeera television (broadcasted all over the Arab world), and expressed that we were a group of internationals from the International Solidarity movement- that we have been meeting with the farmers and the mayors of the villages in the Tulkarem Qalqilya area and that I believe the confiscation of Palestinian land and water sources to redraw the border between Israel and the West Bank does not acknowledge or value the dignity and humanity or future of the Palestinians in any way. It was my moment of fame.

We waited at the roadblock on our way back to Tulkarem as there were a few military jeeps on the other side of the main road. When the "coast was clear" we made our way across the roadblock, across the road and across the roadblocks on the other side of the street. There was one taxi waiting for fifteen of us! so 5 rode on top and 10 crammed inside... we paraded through town. Everybody's face lit up. Kids were screaming and laughing and running after us. It was great. Our faces and stomachs hurt from the smiling and laughing. It was a great way to end the night... (before the meeting about the next day's event... see below).

Saturday-
We supported the removal of four roadblocks along a 2km stretch of road between the West Bank towns of Anabta and Tulkarem. Within hours of the removals, the Israeli military again dug up the road to block passage to the towns. Although Tulkarem and Anabta are only 4kms apart, residents must drive nearly half an hour on backroads to bypass the Israeli imposed roadblock. Palestinians from Anabta and surrounding villages worked from the eastern end of the blocked area while Palestinians from the Nurshams Refugee Camp and Tulkarem area worked from the west. The two groups met in the middle of the previously blocked roadway after simultaneously dismantling the four roadblocks within just over an hour. Those coming from the Tulkarem area had to defy a Israeli militarily-imposed curfew to participate in the action. Local media were present to witness as men and women from the neighboring towns shook hands and as trucks and cars began to pass through.

This road is the main thoroughfare connecting the major West Bank city of Nablus and Tulkarem, a 26km journey that should take less than 30 minutes to drive. With the roadblocks in place, Palestinians from Tulkarem must take alternative routes often on dirt roads, requiring many hours to arrive in Nablus. The Anabta-Tulkarem section of the road has typically been guarded by Israeli tanks, which have fired on cars that have attempted to drive around it. The first roadblock was placed in between Anabta and Tulkarem in May 2001. Each time the Palestinians had previously opened the road, the Israeli military bulldozers have added an additional roadblock, stretching the blocked section of the road to two kilometers. This is the fourth time the road has been successfully opened only to be shut-off again by the Israeli military.

These roadblocks, usually consisting of a large mound of rocks, concrete, trash and dirt have been placed around hundreds of villages throughout Palestine. Roadblocks are typically about two meters high and the width of the road- placed for "security" reasons, but seem to be just another thing making it difficult for people to just live. They are often combined with deep trenches and ditches which run parallel to the roadblock itself. The roadblocks restrict the movement of vehicles going into and out of villages. Ambulances attempting to transport and treat those in need of medical attention are often prevented from getting into or out of villages. When possible, villagers resort to walking along blocked roadways but elderly and disabled people often find it impossible to make these journeys by foot. Medicine, food, water and other essential items are unable to reach the villages due to this inhumane tactic used by the Israeli army.

That night (last night), there was intense attack on the Tulkarem refugee camp starting around 1am and continuing till 7:00 or so this a.m. There was one woman who was injured with 2 gunshot wounds in her abdomen. The ambulance was not allowed to enter the camp as there were tanks blocking all driveable ways in. She waited nearly three hours before an ambulance could enter- once the tanks had left. Our group tried to go around and get stories about what had happened during the night. No luck really. People wanted us to know that they did not sleep, they did not leave their homes, and there was no resistance. They each wanted to tell us their personal stories from prior invasions in the camp- showing us the damage to their homes. We did not stay long because we had plans to leave Tulkarem for the day. The tanks and jeeps moved out of the city at about 7:10 a.m. As I write this, they have already re-entered, I have heard sporadic shooting tonight. Most of the West Bank has been totally locked down, roads shut down, and towns on curfew for Yom Kippur... We will stay through Tuesday morning, and head down to Jerusalem. I have more to tell but will try to put it to tomorrow. I have already taken so much of your time (assuming you made it this far... )

Good night.
Much love,
Lisa



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Saturday
21.September.2002
Update #3 (From Tel Aviv)

Time passes too quickly in these parts.

I last wrote on Sunday- as Yom Kippur curfew was settling on Tulkarem. I did not go through the events of that day, as they were rather difficult ones to process and explain- maybe time will have solved that problem.

Sunday- In the morning after our "fact-finding mission" in Tulkarem camp was finished, our group of 6 headed out to some of the farming villages (Baqa Sharqia, Qafin, and Zeita) north of Tulkarem with our friend Mohammed, from a local TV station in Tulkarem. We met with Fath'allah the assistant mayor of Zeita (pop. 3,500), one of 7 of the 15 villages in the northern Tulkarem area that will be affected by the building of the "security" road and consequential fences to separate Israel and the West Bank. The majority of the families in Zeita depend on the surrounding farmland for income and sustenance. Surveyors and Israeli military personnel have already come to mark up the land and brought with them innacurate maps outlining the land to be bulldozed for the fence and the land to be isolated inside Israel once the fence is built (In an earlier email I discussed the "redrawing" of the border between Israel and Palestine- this is more of that story). Zeita will effectively be completely fenced in with only one main road in and out. The fence will be placed nearly up against the homes, enveloping nearly all the agricultural land on the Israeli side. The local municipality used files with measurements and demographics of the land from each farmer to assess the amount of land, greenhouses, trees, and families that will be impacted as a result of this "security" project.

The length of the fence around Zeita will be 4,410 meters long, and up to 100m wide. 248 farmers own the 443.5 dunams (1 dunam = 1/4 acre) of land that will be inside the fence. Separate from the isolated (confiscated) lands, 35 greenhouses and 6,170 trees will be destroyed on the 432 dunams of land that is being bulldozed in order to build the road and security fences. An estimated 512 families will be affected by this plan.

The mayor of Baqa Sharqia explained to us that Baqa Sharqia will be in an area between the "green line" (the pre-1967 and "internationally recognized" border of Israel) and the new security fence. The town has been under curfew for 2 weeks now, as the fence project is well under way- many trees have already been cut, greenhouses smashed, water pipes destroyed, and bulldozers are already destroying land (for security). In the past two years since the beginning of the intifada the village of Baqa Sharqia has been under curfew 164 days (This is nothing compared to the 90 days straight that Nablus has been suffering for the past 3 months).

Below is my (rather dramatic) poetic reflection of our visitation to the site of the fence project:

Walking through the raped landscape-
made raw by the mechanized claws of the giant Caterpillar...
ripping the life and history from is seams
where the roots of the ancient olive trees were grounded in the soil.
Branches and leaves,
unripened and now dying olives
scattered
by where my feet sink down into the bulldozers' tracks.
Many cycles and seasons of life and love
will not be remembered
as the trees that have bared witness
fall silent
with only a slight remnance of the scream
from the depths of the chainsawed trunks...
A final gasp,
a sudden breath
as the spirit slips away from the silent melody of the earth.
In the distance we hear the piercing interruption
of the weapons of mass destruction.
I feel sickened by the desecration of the land...
the olive trees
witnesses to the history
and future
of wars,
of blood,
of peoples-
turning one another out of "their" lands...
There is an importance in my gazing upon such trees,
to have a memory of their existence,
to have rested in their shade,
to be supported by their branches,
and to see their death before the harvest their fruit...

We approach the vulgur sight of the Caterpillars... 4 of them. Nearby I see a soldier that I believe to be my cousin Aviv. My body tenses and there is a magnetism between this 19 year old Israeli soldier and me. The loud sounds of the tank tread on the bottom of the bulldozers the sound of Osama, our Palestinian comrade, violently cursing the Palestinian driver of the bulldozer, and the armed Israeli yelling at him to stop yelling- it all fades out of my consciousness because "my cousin" and I are entranced (threatened? shocked?) by each other's presence in the land.

"What is your name?"
"What does it matter?"
"Because you look like my cousin!"
"Ma? What?"
"You look like my cousin."
"Maybe"
"Well what is your name?"
"Mike"
"I've never known an Israeli named Mike"

And then he gently put his hand on my shoulder and walked away from me, but we continued to stare at one another as I gathered in the van and left with my troops and he with his...

That night, 5:00am awakened by morning prayer interrupted by gunshots and tank movement around the Tulkarem and the refugee camp- 5:15am- an explosion like a shofar, reminding me of Yom Kippur- I am attoning for my wrongdoings and all the wrongdoings committed in my name.

Monday- Curfew as expected. We spend our day below our apartment in the orphanage: bright and trusting, sparkling eyes peer up at me as I enter the room. They play games and crown around another ISM volunteer Jake and I, and practice their english, "Watsyurnem?" and "Howaryu?" They line up one by one to tell us their names, to hug us, hold our hands, sit on our laps, etc... They remind me of the Bolivian rugrats... Although we cannot communicate through words, we smile and laugh, and tell non-verbal jokes through "magic" tricks and funny faces. Little Mohammed seems to have some strong resistance blood in his bones, turning a simple "cat and mouse" game a bit violent, making paper airplanes and throwing them at anyone and anything with self-created sound effects of explosives, and running through the hallway shouting "Alla'hu Akbar" like the kids who gather stones to throw at the tanks.

So now I am in Tel Aviv with my Israeli family- I arrived here on Wednesday after a short trip to Jerusalem and Bethlehem for a couple of meetings and to deal with some logistical details. My cousin Gonen got married on Thursday, the same day as the first suicide bombing inside Israel in the past 6 weeks.

Tel Aviv. Laying around the house, seemingly forgetting the world outside. We sit around, drink coffee, tea, eating sunflower seeds from Afula (in the North). We watch National Geographic specials on the Jordan river, or the Maccabi Tel Aviv v. Manchester "futbol" (soccer) game. A friend visiting a neighbor knocks on the door to use the phone. She seemingly noticed our relative calm and non-challantly enlightens us of the bus bombing on Allenby Street. She makes a couple calls to ensure the safety of her husband, brother, son, mother. The radio gets turned on, the channel changed to the news- images of chaos, shock, desperation, ambulences, soldiers, blood... nervous voices from the site of the bombing. The phone starts ringing- to see if everyone is ok, to say that they are ok. Others all calling about the wedding, "What will we do if it rains?" "What time do we have to arrive for photos?" Within the half hour, life returns to normal. My imagination takes me to the reality of the nightmares in the West Bank cities, villages and refugee camps and the normalized nature of curfew. It was bad before the bombing in a time of "relative peace" (for Israelis)- what will happen next? I get frustrated in my head and can't believe there isn't more outrage from Israelis and Palestinians alike.

The wedding was festive and beautiful. Everyone and everything was perfect. I am still feeling a bit thrown about where I am. Such amazing contrasts of life, so very near to each other. I struggled with keeping quiet about my whereabouts and intentions of my time here. I was told "They say when you are in Rome, do like the Romans- so- you are now in Israel, you say only good things about Israel..." Nobody really seemed to want to know much about what I am doing, how people are living, or that most of the people I meet with are JUST LIKE THEM! Many people wrote me off as crazy ("You sleep in the homes of the Arabs? Your friends, they are also Arab?"), but others acknowledged that "they" ["The Arabs"] want to live in peace, to go to work, to go to school, to leave their home... JUST TO LIVE. My experiences of Israeli and Palestinian pain and relative perceptions of "truth" is making me more aware of the polarization of the people, which is part of the orchestrated structure of this conflict. Keeping them separate and isolated from one another helps build the side as a clearly identified side.

My side is nonviolence. I am speaking and acting on what I believe is truth- nonviolence is the form that it takes. Violence is my enemy. I am not on either of the two recognized sides. There is violence from Palestine and from Israel. Neither side's hands are clean. The strucure under which this violnce is occuring is the Israeli occupation of Palestinian land and people. The occupation is the socially accepted (in Israel) framework that creates the conditions under which the violence is being spawned and recycled. This is a theory that took me time to become accustomed to, and seeing it in practice, it is difficult to fathom anything different.

So tomorrow I leave Tel Aviv and I have yet to decide where to go. My friends Tracie and Jennifer left here on Thursday, Michelle will be leaving in a few days. I hope to connect with some of the Israeli groups, although most of the internationals are in Ramallah. A few others are scattered in Qalqilya, Nablus, and Tulkarem, knowing that while attention is paid on one place, there is silent permission to forge attacks elsewhere. I will try to get to internet access as soon as I can as things unfold for me. Please know I am hanging in there. It all seems pretty normal when you're in the middle of it.

Many hugs and much love, as always,
Lisa



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Monday
30.September.2002
Update #4 from Tulkarem

Its not the internet cafe or the time that I can't find to keep in touch, but more so the energy and the words and the details... HOW to sit in front of a computer and explain and describe what happens here everyday, where I have been, what I am seeing, feeling, doing. It is all so raw, and it is coming from the context of my perspective- very subjective, not tainted or watered down in the greater realm of things, but just as is.

Right now I have a bit of downtime (curfew in Tulkarem) so I will try to let you know where I am and where I have been since leaving Tel Aviv a week ago. Last Sunday I went to Jerusalem to meet up with some people heading out to Ramallah... On my way from downtown Jerusalem to the Old City there were 4 border police checking identifications of passersby and there were 4 Palestinian Israelis standing against the wall of a building. I have been told (by Israelis and Palestinians) that the border police are particularly "nasty"- they are picked for their "attitude" and their comfort with discrimination. Intrigued by the situation, I told the police I was waiting for a friend. I took my backpack off and hung out at the intersection for a good hour and a half just observing, checking things out; Racial profiling and humiliation... I watched the psychological impact of the Palestinian Israeli conflict play out in the interactions between the young soldiers and the "suspicious" men. The four men seem fairly accustomed to the treatment and just waited patiently, and the border police were pretty accustomed to their condescending power trip... showing who was in charge. Screaming in poor Arabic and then turning around and laughing with the other soldiers. Every "dark" man and any woman with a hijab was stopped and asked for identification. I understand it to some level, and then I also just don't get it at all- yet its not that different from how its done in the states. The four men were there from 9am until 2pm when they were taken to Ma'ale Adumim, the nearest settlement to their homes. They were processed there and were free to go at 3:30 p.m.

Eventually, it was time to meet up with some folks who were going to Ramallah. Some of the internationals organized a demonstration in attempt to deliver medical supplies and water to the Muqata'a where Israel destroyed every building except for one lone structure that is on the edge of collapse. Setting aside certain personal philosophical arguments (about the PA and Arafat) and recognizing my safety in sticking with the group, I decided to go. Ramallah was packed with media (part of the main drive to get there for many internationals- NOT me). We had our peaceful non-violent demo with great media and pretty serious military presence, but no gas or bullets or anything.

So what do I think about all this stuff with Arafat? The compound? To be totally honest, I have been ignoring it to some level. Most of the people I have talked to about it here in Tulkarem and also some friends of my friend Zaid agreed that the motive behind the siege of Arafat was a media tactic by Israel. The situation created "an emergency" for the Palestinians, an image of Israel exercising restraint as angry protesters rallied in the streets, and the US as the capable hero to orchestrate a peaceful end to the situation. Along with this media game-playing, no suicide bombings could or would occur as long as Arafat's safety was under threat (even though most of the resistance groups are against Arafat). On the surface, the romanticization of their leader held captive inside his presidential compound dramatically increased Arafat's popularity (at least for that week). The siege of the compound impacted the people more than the fact that Arafat was under siege. In other words, the actual place has symbolic meaning for people. Most Palestinians I have spoken with have said that Arafat is no longer the leader of the Palestinian people, and that he really does not care for the people. The anger and protest of the situation was about the absolute arrogance of Israel in destroying the Muqata'a just because it can, not because there was any specific reason to do it, and most people were indifferent to Arafat's siege.

After the demonstration I left with my friends John and Jake (both Seattlites). Jake is a graduate student in Middle East Studies at the University of Washington and was part of my affinity group in Tulkarem. John is 50 and has been an anti-war activist since the Vietnam War. He left his job as an environmental consultant and has been in the West Bank off and on for the past year. He lives in Al Ram near Ramallah and works at the Palestinian Hydrology Group where we went to check our emails and do a little organizing for the upcoming week, after the demonstration. We stayed the night at his house in Al Ram- a town on the other side of the Qalandia checkpoint going in and out of Ramallah to/from Jerusalem. In the morning I went to meet a few people at the checkpoint (which has become known as 'the hell') which ended up being a bit of a problem. Israel is on high security alert for the holidays. They closed the checkpoint and my friends coming from the Ramallah side could not get through to me.

So I ended up waiting for some time and did what we call "checkpoint watch". Monitoring and documenting abuse or other kinds of ill treatment of Palestinians by the Israeli Army. I stood in lines with the 15 school boys and girls as more and more people showed up in taxis, on foot, and joined the lines that were forming amid the concrete barriers and barbed and razor wired spirals along the ground to contain the masses and separate them from the Israeli soldiers. A daily reality for many of them, Palestinians have become accustomed to the indifference and often times harassment and violence by the soldiers standing behind concrete blocks and sandbags and up above with an M16 pointed down at the people.

A woman with 5 four year olds tells the soldier in Hebrew that she is only wanting to get the kids home. There is one crying and two have peed in their pants. The 20-something soldier looks blankly at the woman without saying anything back to her as she asks him "Do you not have a heart?" A pregnant woman and her young child are trying to negotiate with the soldier to get through. But the checkpoint is closed. I start getting anxious, thirsty, hot, sunburnt, upset- beginning to feel like maybe I need to take a break. There is a young girl who I am speaking with who tells me, "We are thinking that this is normal... we are not like you, thirsty and hot and angry. This is our life." My friends Osama and Michelle come from the alternative (illegal) road around the checkpoint that takes 20 minutes to go around. Going this way can mean you are risking arrest, if not risking your life. We all wait in the sun for 2 and 1/2 hours before the checkpoint is finally opened. I am relieved and we leave Qalandia.

The next couple days were very tame and more or less apolitical :) Some time in Jerusalem and Beit Sahour (near to Bethlehem), visiting with friends, relaxing a little. On Wednesday a few of us internationals met with the Palestinian Agricultural Relief Committee to check in about the olive harvest. The International Solidarity Movement, along with a few other international groups are working together to provide international presence, protection, and accompaniment to Palestinian farmers who are most threatened when working in their fields. PARC has chosen to focus their efforts on the Salfit and Nablus regions, although there are farmers EVERYWHERE that need this assistance from international volunteers.

Since October 2000, hundreds of thousands of Palestinian trees have been bulldozed, uprooted or set ablaze by Israeli soldiers and settlers - 200,000 of these are olive trees. Olive trees are a symbol of the life of the Palestinian, and their destruction by Israeli forces is one of the ways the Palestinians are being disconnected and de-rooted from their own land. The olive trees have been the economic and ecological basis and life support of Palestinian towns and villages for centuries past and must be for decades to come. Some of the trees are hundreds of years old, having produced for their village oil and olives for all that time. Each tree has paid the cost of year after year of schooling for a child. Or the cost of a room built for a growing child. Or a dowry for a girl about to be married.

In short, these trees are the family bank accounts. They are also beloved members of the families of the village. Many are now gone or are disappearing every day. The economic impact of Israeli policies on the olive sector has been massive from the destruction and damage in the past two years and Israel's barring farmers from their land as settler bypass roads, roadblocks, closures and curfews prevent them the access to tend to their crops. With international accompaniment, we hope we can help ensure that Palestinian farmers and landowners are not met with brutal and sometimes lethal violence as they attempt to harvest their olives, and in some cases, we hope to gather the last harvest of crops before their trees are demolished by the bulldozers.

The land issues have clearly become a focus of my thoughts here. Maybe because it is so visible from traveling the land here. Seeing the structure of the Israeli occupation - "The Matrix of Control" (Credit to Jeff Halper of the Israeli Committee against House Demolitions) - the settler roads, the settlements, roadblocks, checkpoints, bulldozers, chainsawed trees, the disbelieving farmers, the curfews, the closures...

Anyhow. Since Thursday I have been back in Tulkarem (home sweet home) at the Red Crescent Society. On Friday our group went out to Qaffin one of the villages north of Tulkarem where over 1500 acres are being isolated inside Israel because of the fence (this is the place where I have spoken about before). That night I accompanied ambulances and only picked up a few pregnant women and a doctor. Saturday I went into Israel and joined a demonstration held by Ta'ayush along with the Coordinating Committee of Israeli Arab Municipalities. It was an incredible demonstration of people who came out to mark the 2 years of the intifada and the killing of 13 Palestinian Israelis in the Galilee region of Israel in October two years ago. Getting back into Tulkarem was a bit of a difficult time- everything above deserves more stories, but I have written too much already. Today I took my first ride to Nablus (via ambulance) and tonight... I do not yet know. I heard the tanks on the streets, but so far it is quiet (no shooting or shelling). Two boys were killed in Balata Refugee Camp in Nablus today around 12:30pm and 7 more were severely injured as shooting rained on the camp since 4pm yesterday- the 100th day of curfew in Nablus.



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Sunday
27-October.2002
Update #? - How many weeks have I been here?

For the past week and a half 7 internationals and I have been staying in the Palestinian village of Jayyous inside the West Bank, 6km from the "greenline" (pre-1967 internationally recognized border between Israel and the West Bank).

Jayyous is a small farming village of 3,000 people encompassing over 3,000 acres of fertile agricultural land, primarily covered with citrus trees, greenhouses, and groves of olive trees. It also has 7 water wells which are part of the biggest underground water reservoir in the West Bank- providing the Palestinian people with their agricultural needs.

The State of Israel has begun work in the northern Palestinian border villages along the greenline as part of a military order to build a "separation barrier" between Israel and the West Bank for "security" reasons. These military directives and the route of the wall appear to have the aim of a "land grab," expropriating Palestinian lands from inside the West Bank, rather than the solely for the stated security or military considerations. The "security" wall will effectively annex fertile Palestinian lands (like those in Jayyous, remember- 6km inside the WB), water resources, and settlements into Israel.

(Annexation of territory by force constitutes a grave violation of International Law, specifically Article 47 of the Fourth Geneva Convention. http://www.unhchr.ch/html/menu3/b/92.htm)

Since last Sunday, each morning around 9am, Caterpillar bulldozers accompanied by Israeli soldiers, military police, private armed security personnel for the bulldozer, and the "project contractor" are busy chainsawing, uprooting, and destroying hundreds of Jayyous’ olive trees. In the past week, village residents and our group of internationals have been have been meeting nightly to discuss and create possible strategies to encounter the problem of the wall.

Upon the arrival of the land destruction team last Sunday, the residents of Jayyous (with the support of us internationals) stood in non-violent protest against the destruction of their land and olive trees in order to make way for the building of the "separation barrier." The Israeli army and military police threw 15 tear gas canisters, 3 sound bombs, and began shooting into the air to disperse the Palestinians and Internationals who were blocking the path of the bulldozers. Jayyous was under curfew the following day.

If the village chooses the path of non-violent resistance to the building of the wall and the destruction of their land, their movement to their fields will not be permitted because of curfew, and their resistance will be met with force, a danger that many do not want to encounter. Yet if they do not protest or resist, they are feeling already defeated, that there is no choice given to them.

Villagers have stressed that more than anything, they need accompaniment to the olive trees, citrus groves, and greenhouses to gather as much of this year's harvest as possible before the beginning of Ramadan and before access to the (soon-to-be) isolated lands is inhibited and prohibited. So for now... the bulldozers continue their work at 9am each day and the Jayyous residents continue to harvest their olives walking past the Israeli military jeeps, and private security personnel.

Palestinians in the Qalqilia-Tulkarem area alone estimate over 20,000 acres of their best land will be lost if Israel continues with the current plan to build the wall inside the West Bank. Jayyous will lose nearly 2,300 acres of the village's land, including 250 greenhouses. fruit trees, and 20,000 olive trees.

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A good read if you aren't following the news...
Last week the Israeli military prohibited Palestinians from picking olives in the West Bank because of their inability to contain the violent actions of the settlers in order to protect harvesters.
See- http://www.lawsociety.org/Press/Preleases/2002/oct/oct22.html
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In other news today...

Militant Israeli settlers attacked a group of international volunteers working with Palestinians to harvest olives in the olive groves near the Palestinian village of Yanoun.

Immediately after a Palestinian operation in the illegal Israeli settlement of Ariel killed two Israeli settlers and soldiers, a group of about a dozen armed Israeli settlers from the Itamar settlement spotted a group of olive harvesters in Yanoun and descended upon international and Israeli volunteers, kicking, punching and beating them with stones and rifles butts. The internationals were out in front of the Palestinian workers, trying to protect them from the settlers. The injuries are as follows:

James Deleplain – US citizen, 74 years of age – repeatedly hit in the face, wound under his left eye and massive swelling, kicked in the back and both the right and left rib cage, with a possible broken rib. James had pneumonia two weeks ago and has been coughing since, therefore the beating, especially in the rib cage has left him in a very weak state.

Mary Hughes-Thompson – US and British citizen, 68 years of age - repeatedly hit in both arms. Possible broken arms. Speaking to Mary while she was on her way to the hospital, she stated "I am convinced they were trying to kill me."

Robbie Kelly – Irish citizen, 33 years of age- beaten in the face and body with rifle butts. Swollen mouth, bruised ribs and 7 stitches in his left ear.

Omer Allon– Israeli citizen, 24 - cuts and gashes in both legs and bruises all over his body.

Also the internationals' money and passports were stolen by the attackers, all of whom were of teenage years according to the volunteers. 3 Palestinians in the area were also attacked.

Over 100 international volunteers are in the Occupied Palestinian Territories as part of the International Solidarity Movement's Olive Harvest Campaign. Internationals and Israelis have been providing a continual presence in the village of Yanoun, due to constant Israeli settler attacks on Palestinian villagers and their property. Last week the villagers of Yanoun left the village, not able to withstand the repeated attacks and denied protection by the Israeli police and military. They only returned a few days ago accompanied by Israelis and internationals, hoping monitor, witness and protect. br>


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Sunday
1.November.2002
Update: cautious and hesitant to send it

There are days when silence is calming and peaceful, like Shabbat in Jerusalem when you can feel the quiet slowly seep into the city and the traffic hushes and you can finally hear the songs of the birds in the trees. The curfew in Tulkarem has a similar sound, but the feeling of quiet has a strangling anxiety at its core, an ever-looming shattering of the silence creeps nearer with each second, minute, day, or week of the curfew.

Like last Monday... I was alone for the morning, cleaning the apartment for the new international volunteers that would be coming in the evening. I was sitting in the apartment when I heard a few shots from the direction of the Tulkarem refugee camp. A little concerned about the shots, I ran down the four flights of stairs to check in with the Red Crescent dispatch office. They said "one child has been injured, he's on his way to the hospital." I crossed the street to the hospital where Heidi and Osama arrived by taxi and verified the news, "there was shooting in the camp, one child is injured." A few seconds later, a taxi pulled up at the hospial and 3 people carried the limp and barely moving, bleeding body of Ahmad Anbas (15 years old) inside. He was hit with two live bullets in the chin and the chest.

Ahmad and a group of children were on the main street near the UNRWA (UN Relief and Works Agency) school near the northwestern entrance to the camp, when he was shot. Israeli sources claim that the boy attempted to plant an explosion on the side of the road. The children present and witnesses from inside the camp reported that the children were playing and messing around, placing roadblocks with stones in the places where Israeli military jeeps and tanks usually pass (a common non-violent tactic even I use to block the way of the army).

Although there was no clear presence of Israeli soldiers, jeeps, tanks, or APCs in the area, camp residents reported that they noticed the presence of "Israeli Special Forces" in the area before the shooting and then their quick disappearance after the shooting.

Within minutes of Ahmed's arrival, children from the camp came running to the hospital doors and joined the crowd of people which was quickly growing into somewhat of an audience. From the other direction, an Israeli military jeep and tank pulled up the street and stopped in front of the hospital. The hospital security pulled the gate to the hospital shut and the adults held the youth back. The jeep and tank retreated back down the street. Revealing the death of a child, crying, wailing, screaming, covering his face, a man accompanied by two others walked past the women, children, young men, and hospital staff.

People slowly left the scene and quickly got back to the camp. I stayed in the ambulence dispatch in case of any emergencies. I stood with the women from the orphanage below our apartment and we watched the relentless Palestinian youth ("shebab") throw stones and empty bottles at the Israeli jeeps, APCs and tanks that began creeping through the city firing sound bombs, live ammunition, and in some places tear gas bombs, in an attempt to enforce the curfew imposed on the city for the 9th straight day...

When I return to Tulkarem next week, I am sure I will see posters of Ahmad on the walls of the city.



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Tuesday
10.December.2002
My trips "home"...

Excerpt From Naivete
[Los Altos, California]
acquaintance: "So what are you doing these days?"
me: "Oh... I'm just doing some peace work... a bit of human rights monitoring and... some other volunteer work out in the... West Bank."
acquaintance: "Neat! Where you doing that? Around here?"
me: "No... umm... Do you know the West Bank?... Israel?..."
acquaintance: "Oh wow!"
me: "Yeah..."
acquaintance: "That's great, do you like it? Are you having a good time?"
me: "Sure... its great..."
acquaintance: "Wow, well be safe- good to see you!"

Semantics: "Culture Shock?"
I have yet to decide whether returning to the U.S. should be classified as "shocking" or whether "disturbing" is a more suitable term. The disturbed feeling sometimes comes from the blatant exemplification of the vast differences between the privileges, luxuries and affluence of America and the West and the repression and hardships of the rest of the world. But what I found even more disturbing upon this particular re-entry in the context of the current state of the world, is the privilege of indifference and ignorance about the political climate in one's city, district, "country" or geographical region (and the ability to not know your ignorance). I will admit I am oversimplifying the complexity of this reality, but in light of all that exists in Palestine, its hard not to feel frustrated.

Going With the Flow
So... the plan was to spend a few months away and then return home for Thanksgiving and Hanukkah, find a job and "settle" down, you know all the stuff I have been avoiding... A few weeks before the time had come, I realized I had no good reason to do this other than my (perceived?) responsibility to the emotional state of my loved ones. People have been writing me and telling me, "Don't you think its time to come home?!" which I read as, "I want you to come home". The general consensus was clear, but it was impossible to balance it with my responsibility to my own emotional and mental state. I was in the middle of something that I didn't really want to "wrap" up and leave. I finally found something to plug my passion into. So before I headed home, I decided that it was going to be for a short visit and that I was going to come right back- SO, here I am.

I am actually quite sure that most of you know what it feels like to return back to life after an extended out of body experience. Non-convincing existential arguments floating around my head for over a week about where my life exists right now- where is home? what pillow am I sleeping on? who do I see everyday? Many hours of travel, many airports, customs, immigration officers, a ten hour time change twice in 10 days (jet lag for 2 weeks)... ay! Still not sure exactly where I exist and whether I should be awake or sleeping, fasting for Ramadan or feasting for Thanksgiving (how did that already happen?)... When did Hanukkah end? (Friday... I know, just pretending to be lost).

Picking and Choosing
After crossing the greenline so often between my "work" in the West Bank and my friends and family inside Israel, I experience the "culture shock" and "reality" checks each time I cross the border going and returning to each place. Upon my arrival back into Israel a few days ago, the (sometimes intentionally clear and sometimes intentionally vague) answers to questions about what I am doing here returned to my head. Its impossible to avoid politics when I talk about what I am doing here, except for with one of my cousins who simply asks me, "How are the Arabs, fine? Good." (without giving time for me to answer). With most people, I practice my listening skills and let them do most of the talking, venting, ranting. There is value in hearing different thoughts about the situation, but sometimes I don't have the strength to hear the same (sometimes racist, stereotyped, and generalized) comments about Palestinians or Arabs.

Sometimes I am eager to share with people what I have been doing in the West Bank. Sometimes people don't want to hear it. I try to provide another perspective- forgetting all known roles each people play in the conflict... I talk about the many ways that culture, community, religion, education, society... all struggle to exist under occupation. I talk about the simple acts that become non-violent resistance under occupation: walking to your friend's house, visiting a relative in the hospital, going to school, going to work, harvesting olives, rebuilding a home, replanting uprooted trees... I try to explain that the conditions are becoming such that it is difficult to live... LIVING becomes resistance. Does it makes sense?

So you all know by now about this wall that is being built for Israeli security, and to separate Israel from the Palestinians has become a pretty big part of my experience here. I have started working as a production manager for a video documentary about the implications and impacts of the wall (fence/barrier/patrol road/barbed wire/trench/sand trace path/border light). I will be here until I feel alright checking out on the project and checking out of the communities I have become a part of. Of course the Iraq situation worries me quite a bit and I will consider that too.

So that's my update for now.

Here's what's happening around these parts...

Tulkarem and Qalqilia remain under 24 hour curfew.

Bethlehem continues to be placed under tight curfew for the 18th day running. Soldiers fire tear gas bombs at those who attempt to challenge the imposed curfew preventing people from reaching churches in the city. The army continues to raid and search homes randomly.

Israeli bulldozers and heavy machinery continue (for the 3rd week running) to level hills near al-Ram town, north of Jerusalem, and 'Al-Kassarat' area, southeast al-Bireh, where the occupation authorities are implementing the "Dividing Wall" plan.

A tight military closure continues to be imposed on and within Nablus. A new metal gate was set up dividing the city into 2 parts - western and eastern. The eastern part includes the city's refugee camps. The new separation is made of cement blocks and a metal gate locked by the occupation army after 6:00 pm and throughout the day during curfew. At the same time the city is isolated from the outside world through a tightened military siege. All main and side routes leading in and out of the city have been closed and witness heavy military presence.

Two IDF draft resisters, for reasons of conscience, Yoni Ben-Artzi and Uri Ya'akobi, were sentenced additional prison term, for both of them this is the sixth term in a row. Yoni has spent until now 126 days in prison, and was sentenced to 35 days more and Uri has spent 106 days and was sentenced to 28 more days.

Uri and Yonatan join the following refuseniks who are also in prison: Prison 6:
- First Sgt.(res) Kobi Gabai-Yorista, sentenced to 10 days for refusing to serve in the Occupied Territories, December 3.
- Major Chen Alon(res.), sentenced to 21 days for refusing to serve in the Occupied Territories, November 25.
- Staff Sgt. M.G. (res.),sentenced to 21 days for refusing to serve in the Occupied Territories, November 25.
- Staff Sgt. Dror Lutzatti (res.), sentenced to 18 days for refusing to serve in the Occupied Territories, December 3.
- First Sgt. Eshel Herzog (res.) sentenced to 28 days for refusing to take part in the Occupation, December 3

Military Prison 4
- Yoni Yehezkel was sentenced for the fourth time, to 28 days for refusing to be drafted into an army of Occupation, November 18.
- Itzik Shabbtai (res.) was sentenced to 28 days for refusing to serve in the Occupied Territories, November 26
- Dror Boimel was sentenced for the fifth time, to 28 days for refusing to be drafted into an army of Occupation, December 3.

For more information on conscientious objectors check out the links on the following site: http://www.refusersolidarity.net/



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Monday
23.December.2002
Same 'Ol Stuff

Since I last wrote, I have driven the roads (and "off"roads) of the West Bank. I took off in a rental car with my friend Nida (the documentary filmmaker), Jawad (the cinematographer), and John (our friend from ISM and the Palestinian Hydrology Group-PHG). John and I went and rented ourselves a little mini rental car and headed to Jayyous, my beloved village home. On the way we have both travelled so many times, we somehow got lost- stopping in every village along the road (it must have been the night vision or the rain throwing us off). In each village we were greeted with the typical hospitality- invited to stay, drink coffee, tea, smoke some argila- flavored tobacco in a water pipe- its kosher (http://www.nakhla-tobacco.com).

Driving into Jayyous was as epic and dramatic and emotional as expected. It was so nice to see everyone again... They told me I didn't look as skinny as I did during Ramadan when I was fasting and dropped 3 kilo... I told them about Thanksgiving and all the other food treats I had eaten while away. That night there was a rain storm and thunder and lightening that shook the ground. It was hard to sleep. It strangely reminded me of the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake when I thought Iraq had bombed the states- I had pre-anxieties about the looming upcoming war.

In the morning after saying hello to more friends and finishing up some interviews, we took off on our adventure. First stop: Tulkarem- where we somehow made it into the city after curfew had been reimposed. It was a relatively quiet nightWe had these special Oxfam vests that John stole from the PHG office, so we seemed pretty professional and the young soldiers said, "alright? why not?" We drove in and called my friend Abu Anon who I met when I was staying in Tulkarem during September. He let the four of us stay there and also made some phone calls to arrange our trip for the next couple of days. We showed him our maps and reports about the wall and told and listened to stories.

In Tulkarem we visited the site of a man's agricultural fields near the "greenline" where he cannot go without permission from the army (he told us his wife has had to go without him... they will not permit him at all). His fields have been devastated by Geshuri Industries, a chemical factory that produces fertilizers and pesticides. Geshuri was operating in Kfar Saba (within Israel) until the city residents obtained a court order to have the plant shut because of its negative health impacts and impacts on the surrounding agricultural areas. Despite a court order from Kfar Saba stating that the factories by-products were hazardous and therefore should not operate near a residential or agricultural area, Geshuri was opened and has been operating freely in Tulkarem polluting without any control or standards the soil, water, air, effecting directly 35 acres of agricultural land and the surrounding residential area on the southwest side of the city. In the one month period that the wind blows west (into Israel), the company is not allowed to operate.

During our visit to the fields, the soldiers arrived and told us we had to leave. They spoke to the farmer in Hebrew and told him they didn't want to see him down in his fields with any foreigners ever again, that its none of our business what is happening there... They told us that filming was not allowed, as a worker at Geshuri had been killed about a year ago, and our video footage could end up in the wrong hands aiding someone to do a similar thing. We told the soldiers we were just interested in seeing what had happened to the man's fields and had no intention of sharing the footage with any "terrorists"...

From there it was onto Fa’roun village affected by the wall on the southern side of Tulkarem where we could see the 100s of acres to be isolated by the wall. We were welcomed into a beautiful home for tea and coffee. Being the only woman, I always get to meet the women of the house and see the kitchen and the rest of the rooms- a rare treat, only sometimes awkward with the language barrier, but the many eyes staring straight through me has become pretty normal.

North of Tulkarem we came across a number of "suprise checkpoints" which tripped us up a bit and made our trip a little longer than expected. Surprise checkpoints just mean that a military jeep or two stop in the middle of a road somewhere stopping all the cars and foot traffic to show ID. But sometimes, they don't even look. Sometimes they just stop traffic for 20 minutes and then leave. We spent some time in Al Jarushiya- a small village (pop. 677) where the soldiers were drilling holes in the stone to blow them apart with dynamite to make the ground suitable for the work needed to go ahead with the preparation for the wall/fence. We were visiting with the family whose land was being destroyed while we talked over the noises of the bulldozers, stone crushers, and random gunfire- all some 30 meters from the home. When we heard the knock on the door, the family hid their maps and papers under the cushions in the house. the children ran to hide behind the mothers' legs... They were curious about the camera's and what we were doing, and if we had recorded the faces of the security forces? Very nervous. All was fine and the tension died down rather quickly.

We stopped in Zeita where I had been maybe 6 weeks prior toward the end of the olive harvest season when the trees were being cut and stolen from the land. Now the area where I had been is all cleared. The road I had taken dropped off into nothing... a gaping lanscape that will soon be filled with the Wall and security roads, patrol towers and "border" lights...

The next day was off to Baqa Sharqia and Nazlat Isa, two of the villages that will be on the Israeli side of the wall. The streets are filled with closed and empty shops and stands. The owners are from all over the Tulkarem district and the shops and stands have not been open since the beginning of the Intifada, due to the closures, curfews, checkpoints, and restrictions on movement... Its like the life of the villages had been devoured by something. Every 3 or 4 minutes a military vehicle would drive by. A kid on a bike rode up with a box of chocolate wafers and some soda. It started raining and we headed back to the cars.

Anyhow, a few days later Jawad left to go back to the states, two days later, John left to go back to the states. Since then, Nida and I have been doing our own things... Its been nice to see some friends and family, relax a bit in John's cold and empty apartment in Al Ram- norhtern end of Jerusalem near the Qalandia checkpoint in and out of Ramallah. I warm myslf up with tea and a hot bath (when there is electricity to heat the water heater). I then rush to bed in my thermals and wool socks and curl up reading Memoirs by Pablo Neruda.

Tomorrow I will go to a non-violent demonstration in Bethlehem against the curfew, the occupation, and against Sharon's attempt to destroy the Palestinian infrastructure of existence. Bethlehem has been under continual curfew for almost a month with a lifting just twice in the past week. During most of this time, people have been unable to go to work, children have not gone to school, produce has not reached the markets, and trade and medical facilities have all but come to a standstill.

On Saturday I went to visit some friends in Beit Sahour just east of Bethlehem and had to rush to the checkpoint by five before they closed entry and exit to/from the city (they didn't even look at my ID). Although it seems Israel will attempt to make the world believe that the curfew has indeed been lifted, no one in Bethlehem expects the holiday to be a joyous one. I may stay in the city for midnight mass. I have never been, and it feels like something I may want to do. We'll see. Almost everything seems quite unsure except that I know I am not taking my December 30th flight home. Its looking like the end of January, but who knows. (Who wants to find me a job?)

I wish all you all a safe and peaceful holiday and new year...

With much love- as always,

me



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Wednesday
Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera...
8.January.2003

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Bethlehem: Solemn Christmas
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A captive city behind the walls of soldiers, checkpoints, roadblocks, settlements, trenches filled with barbed razor wire coiled pyramids. For weeks and months before the soundless voice of its silence echoed in its alleyways and streets marked by the tanks which rolled and climbed through the city reminding the people that they are under occupation.

Can the press paint happiness on the faces of those who are weary from awakening at night by the piercing shots and the muffled sounds of thunderous tanks and the walls and roofs caving in and piling up into heaps of rubble? The dust raised by the houses as they came crashing down settles little by little. The natives of the city both clinging to and hiding from the fear at the ciy's heart as they are left alone, not knowing how they happen to still be alive.

The New York Times, Washington Post, San Francisco Chronicle, and the Guardian did not report about Bethlehem on Christmas Eve. There was no mention of the Jewish and Arab Israelis that had demonstrated against the occupation together with their Palestinian friends from Bethlehem along with international support.

They gathered first at the checkpoint gate - outnumbered by sodiers and press, who for today left their helmets and bulletproof vests inside their cars as the soldiers promised a day of peace. Fighting their country's fascism with their voices in the streets of Bethlehem- Are their eyes the only ones open to the grave situation?

Inside the Church of the Nativity, dimness, overwhelming smells of insence and a saddening silence- someone pointed out the shots in the walls from the April invasion and the standoff at the church. Would this sacred space have been filled with hundreds of pilgrims who had come from deep within their own grace? Something must have terrified the faithful this Christmas... Are there still those with faith, those able to celebrate, or understand their imprisonment?

The soldiers kept their distance from the strangely desolate Manger Square which remained undecorated in protest against the Israeli (re-re-re-)occupation of the city in the weeks prior. Residents of the city ran excitedly to join the vistors. Israelis and Palestinians greeted each other and shared friendly words and recalled the last time they were in Israel or the last time they were in Bethlehem, before all this began.

The patriarchs and priests proceded past the demonstration to pray for peace, not to celebrate, for this year, there was no celebration.

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Ramallah: The World Social Forum...on Palestine
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The event came and went without much discussion in the Israeli, International or Palestinian press, but the meaning behind the WSF on Palestine was very significant. The network of Palestinian Non Governmental Organizations came together to organize the two day gathering which discussed many important issues pertaining to the Palestinian issue from different perspectives: International law & human rights, the importance of international protection for the Palestinian people, the obstacles & challenges facing the establishment of a democratic & a viable independent Palestinian state, the relationship between Palestine, the occupation, and globalization, and the revitalization of the international solidarity movement with the Palestinian people, especially in the face of the latest Israeli aggression. Grave concerns were expressed over the planned aggression on Iraq and the subsequent negative aspect the aggression would have on peace, development, and security over the entire Middle East, especially, the harm on the human development potential. I am still unable to see what vision the ones making the decisions are working toward.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Return to Jayyous
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back in "the village" for a Qalqilia regional convergance of more than 500 Palestinians, supported by more than 100 internationals and Israelis. Two separate marches passed through the villages north of Jayyous to Tulkarem and south of Jayyous and Qalqilia to visit with the communities being impacted by the building of the "security fence" better described and better known as the "Apartheid Wall" these days.

At the boys' school in Jayyous, the Palestinian Ministry of Agriculture, the local Land Defense Committee, and representatives of the local farmers gave speehes denouncing the wall. After a brief reciting of the Palestinian national anthem, Palestinian farmers and internationals began walking toward the land near where the wall is being built.

Private contract security for the wall were already present, armed with loaded and pointed M-16 rifles. Myself and a farmer from Jayyous spoke with the head of the private security, Jim- an Israeli from Belgium and tried to negotiate our movement toward the area where work on the wall is currently occurring. The demonstrators behind us decided to sit down as we were not able to move beyond a certain point. The "non-violent" nature of the demonstration ended as an Israeli military jeep came from behind and tried to push through the group of demonstrators. The soldiers exited the jeep and began pushing Palestinian and internationals and beating them with their batons. Quickly following this there was exessive use of tear gas, percussion grenades (sound bombs) and rubber bullets (there were also reports of live bullets). After opening fire, many youth began to throw stones at soldiers. My friend Osama was hit with a rather large stone in the shoulder which was dislocated, and then was shot in the upper thigh with a rubber bullet. The circular violence continued for nearly 30 minutes, finally stopping with the arrest of a local Palestinian journalist, with a media pass, who was arrested from his home on the suspicion of throwing stones.

Someone yelled to me, "Lisa they have Mustafa!!" I walked down the hill and saw Lovisa and Moosa slowly advancing down the hill. Moosa had his passport in his hand. Patrick and Radhika thought it would be a good idea if I went down and tried to talk with the soldiers in Hebrew. From here, I will let Moosa's words tell the story...

...from Moosa
12.29.02 Jayyous

We were about eighty metres away the first time they yelled at us to stop. "Let him go," Lovisa shouted back at them, but we stopped. "We only want to talk". One of the israeli soldiers sitting on the front bumper of the jeep yelled, "We don't want to talk".

We advanced a few more steps until a soldier pointed his rifle at us. "One more step, and I shoot you". The soldiers were young and nervous, and we stopped again. Patrick and Lisa had now joined us. Lisa spoke loudly to the soldiers in hebrew. "Why point guns at us? We have no weapons. Let's just talk".

The soldier dropped his gun just a fraction and we advanced a few steps. Again the rifle cocked up towards us and we stopped. I quietly whispered a prayer that we would secure Mustafa's release. This innocent Palestinian journalist would surely suffer at the hands of the border police. They are infamous for their brutality, even towards internationals. And then we advanced a few steps further. It was a strange process. Lisa in Hebrew and I in English, speaking loudly but calmly, and advancing a few steps until the gun pointed towards us. Then repeating the process again and again, until finally we all four stood just twenty metres away from the two jeeps.

All the time, the israeli soldiers and police were jeering and dancing and making faces. They knew and we knew that they held all the cards.

Three more jeeps joined the two already there. The jeeps started up and now Israeli soldiers were marching up towards us en masse. Lisa recognized the face of the soldier leading them and murmured, "We don't stand a chance".

He also recognized her. "So we meet again. This time you are with new friends," looking at Lovisa and me. He told us that they were arresting Mustafa for throwing stones and that we would all be arrested if we did not make way for the jeep. In reality, he did not want to arrest us. Fifteen soldiers and border police just pushed the four of us out the way and the jeep rolled through with Mustafa locked inside. If we had resisted, then israeli justice would have convicted us of assaulting a police officer. Mustafa had not thrown a single stone.

The jeeps were now heading uphill into Jayyous to "impose" the curfew. We followed in their wake. As they drove through the streets, they dropped cannisters of tear gas. Patrick handed me an onion. I couldn't breathe, my nostrils and my throat burned. I walked with my right eye half open, my left eye closed tight in pain. But we had to follow because the israeli army had not yet finished their business in Jayyous.

We caught up with them outside a Palestinian house. One jeep had parked outside and an israeli soldier was kicking the door violently and shot at it once. It opened from inside. Three israelis marched in holding their guns in front of them. We heard the sound of furniture crashing inside and then they brought two bearded palestinian men out. Hands up, against the wall, bodies searched. They found nothing on the two men and eventually released them. And so on to another palestinian home.

It was some time before they left Jayyous. Lisa and I now wandered the streets of the town together. As we walked, Palestinian children would shout out to us from the balcony windows where they were caged. "Peace be with you" or "Hello". There was a curfew in Jayyous and nobody was allowed to leave their home. Now and again, a Palestinian man or woman would ask us to escort them to their home. It was while we were escorting one young man that we heard more bad news which we decided to investigate.

As we walked through the door of her house, Lisa and I saw a red-faced tearful palestinian woman sitting on the floor, surrounded by family and women from neighbouring homes. Her right arm was in a sling. The two Israeli jeeps that we had followed had split up and we had not been able to monitor all their activities.

We saw now the broken hinge of the door where the soldiers had forced their way in. And we saw the young boy who had been thrown viciously against a wall. And we saw the mother whose arm had been fractured or broken while she was trying to protect her young boy.

One grizzly-haired old man in the family spoke good english. "Who is the terrorist?" he asked. "Palestinians or Israel?" The gave us tea to drink and the woman with the broken arm kissed Lisa on both cheeks as we left. Lisa is Jewish, American, and has lived in Israel (and questions her Zionist roots) and they know this.

Tonight as we patrol the houses of Jayyous through till dawn, the old man's words will reverberate in my mind. "Who is the terrorist?"

There is pain and anger and truth in this question.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Aside from the above...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had an uneventful New Years with my cousin Nir in his bar, "Syndrome" in Jerusalem. Classic American rock n' roll and blues... I have been visiting with friends in Jerusalem and running into familiar faces in unexpected places (Josh Vander-Velde, Zohar, Liora Brosbe, Chana Arnon for those of you who know some of these cats).

I attended a fascinating, joyous, and beautiful wedding in Jayyous which I will write about next time. This involved a trip the "salon" hairspray, make-up, and dressing up in Palestinian clothes... kids and elderly women staring at me and dancing with me, driving the bride through the village honking the horn...

And that's about it for now. Nida returns tonight from his trip to Greece to renew his visa. I hope to write a bit more next time about the mood and feeling here about the recent bombings in Tel Aviv, the situation here in the West Bank, and the the anxieties of the potential hell that will come to the Middle East with the attacks on Iraq.



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Operation Wanton Destruction
Thursday
23.January.2003

Sunday morning we received a call about demolition orders for the market in Nazlat Issa, a Palestinian village north of Tulkarem on the Green line. The location of Nazlat Issa along the Green Line has allowed for a vibrant center for economic activity because of the frequent visits to local businesses by Palestinian Israeli customers and the easy transportation of goods into Israel.

Nazlat Issa is one of the 15 villages (in the norhtern West Bank) that will be situated between the Green line and the wall Israel is building to physically separate Israel from the Palestinians. Nazlat Issa and the other villages will be isolated within Israel, completely separated from friends and relatives, social services, work, schools, medical care, etc... in neighboring villages and cities, unable to enter Israel or enter the West Bank without appropriate permits - stuck in a virtual no-man's land, in somewhat of an Israeli prison, reinforcing Israeli control and siege.

Israeli authorities have ordered the demolition of nearly 200 shops and six homes in Nazlat Issa. The reason given by Israel for the demolition orders is "lack of building permission".

Many Palestinians echoed my thoughts on the real motivation. The Israeli government is destroying the fabric of Palestinian society on many different levels. Through the systematic methods of "enforcing" occupation, through land confiscation, illegal Israeli settlement construction and expansion, bipass roads, curfews, closures, home demolitions, restrictions on movement, etc... Israel is creating unbearable living and economic conditions. There is power behind creating such conditions under which people are forced to move (transfer?)...

Monday, the Israeli army came and saw the international and Israeli peace groups present as well as the hundreds of Palestinians working to pack up their merchandise and goods in boxes and putting their things on trucks to send off to their homes in the village. Mothers, daughters, brothers, sons, friends. The whole family was there working to clear their things out... a dental office, a pharmacy, a produce market, a hardware store, a butcher, a toy store, a falafel stand, a glass shop, a shoe store...

Amidst the thunder, lighting, and rain, shopowners and their families packed things up and even started taking down the walls of their buildings. As it got dark and the military and media dwindled, the internationals headed back to have some food and find our sleeping arrangements for the night. We met with a group of local men and discussed the possible hypothetical situations and actions of the following day. After much discussion, and word of 5 arrests in the village, we split up into working groups. I was in the early morning lookout group, so I went to bed shortly thereafter.

Tuesday morning, I went down with Radhika and Dunya (my little affinity group)... 6:30 AM when we arrived down at the market area, there were 6 military jeeps present and bulldozers were arriving on flat-bed trucks. The soldiers came up to us where we were standing under a balcony trying to keep dry from the rain. They notified us that the street that we were standing on where the shops were was a 'closed military zone' for the day. He showed us the order (a photocopied "fill in the blank" sort of a sheet) which confirmed that the entire village of Nazlat Issa and the village next to it, Baqa Ash Sharqia was a closed military zone. We made some calls to the house where we had stayed to notify the other internationals to come.

Women were walking their children to school, cars were driving through the "closed military zone," and I notified the soldiers who had "kindly" asked me to leave that I would leave when they stopped allowing Jewish settlers coming from inside the West Bank through the checkpoint into Israel. They told me that in 5 minutes they were going to impose the military order.

Little by little more internationals came, more bulldozers came, some press, and soon following them came some shopkeepers to continue to remove goods. The military started pushing people out of the area. Radhika, Dunya, and I headed into a shop to help one of the frantic families wrap up their goods and began to box things up.

I tried to think of it as meditation...
Glass bowls, pitchers, vases, glasses...
Picking them up,
Wrapping them in paper,
Putting them in boxes.
I began to wonder what it was like for my family in Poland
The men with the guns were coming, and the time was not known...
I began to wonder what future this destruction will bring.
I don't know if they saw me broken, the tears in my eyes.
I felt my heart breaking as the woman by the door bowed her head and lowered her eyes, with shoulders fallen down like teardrops.
My heart has been broken before...
Many brush off the pain.
But today the ache dispersed through my body.

I called Drew who told me that all the Palestinians were being cleared out of "the zone" and that Radhika, Dunya, and I were the only internationals left in the area. Just then the electricity was cut, so the bulldozing could begin. We continued with the light from the open door, until the light was blocked by 6 soldiers, with their guns pointed, standing outside the doorway telling us to leave, to lock the door and get out of the area. Not defeated just a little undone, we walked out of the shop. One of the men who we were with handed me the keys to his shop, and told me his brother was still inside and I needed to go give him the keys. I didn't quite understand, but I turned around and took one step back from where we had come, and a soldier grabbed my arm. He told me, "I told you to walk away". I said, "THERE IS A MAN AND THE SHOP... I AM GOING BACK TO GIVE HIM THE KEYS!" Another one pushed me came from behind and started pushing me the other way and told me "I don't really care about any man... and I told you to walk away!" At this point I screamed and began to cry, "What is the matter with you? There is a man in the shop who is afraid to come out! His brother asked me to get him out of the shop! I have his keys! Please don't grab me!"

I search for the fear and the kindness in their faces.

A slight ease in the grip, "Let go of me!" Their grip loosened and I was free...

He told me he doesn't think, he just does what he's told to do. I can still hear him cursing at me as I wander off.

Hysterically crying, I walk to shop. I met the man and escorted him back out to where the soldiers had left me. Now a military police man joined up with the soldiers. He came up to the hysterically crying me... He grabs my arm from behind and tells me its time to go... In all my time here, I have never cried or lost it... I couldn't even breathe, but these words came out, "I don't know about you, but I'm a Jew, the way you are treating these people makes me sick... What is happening here makes me SICK! My grandmother was forced out of her home in Poland under the threat of weapons by the Nazis and I can't believe what you are doing!"

This violence makes me believe that this violence is what they need to be in control.

Under heavy military protection and in just under 4 hours, 62 shops, 1/3 of the market of Nazlat Issa was destroyed. The jeeps left, the bulldozers left, the media left... Operation Wanton Destruction was completed.



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Check-In: I'm O.K.
Tuesday
12.August.2003

So I made it to Jayyous (my village) finally on Sunday, and now feel like its time to write. First and foremost, I am doing ok and am safe, despite the two bombings in the Israeli city Rosh Ha'ayin near to the greenline (internationally recognized border between Israel and Palestine) and Ariel, one of the illegal Israeli settlements inside the West Bank. I am sure you have heard about these by the time you have read this. I know that most of you are concerned for my safety. I want you to know that despite the saddening violence, it is like a dream being back here. Thank you all for supporting me by letting me tell you about my time here and about what is happening in Israel and Palestine.

So where does the story begin? We'll talk about where I am now and other stories will come from there in the days to come. I write you from Qalqilia, Palestine. Qalqilia is home to some 40-45,000 Palestinians, 4000 of which have left (since March) due to the recent strangulation and sealing of the occupation of the city as a result of the building of the wall and fence which surrounds Qalqilia. A group of internationals, mostly from the International Solidarity Movement )ISM gathered here today to support a Palestinian organized non-violent demonstration in resistance to the Wall which literally imprisons the city. Palestinians all over the West Bank and Gaza live in a psychological and physical prison, living under Israeli occupation, particularly in the areas affected by this so-called "security" barrier Israel is building.

As most of you know, and hopefully have been hearing about through the media, Israel's Prime Minister Ariel Sharon decided last April to build a series of walls and buffer zones in order to unilaterally isolate/separate Israelis and Palestinians to prevent suicide bombings. This has also effectively isolated Palestinian communities from one another and from their access to their work, schools, health care facilities and from their agricultural lands, among other things. Qalqilia residents are living on 3,500 dunam of residential land (1 dunam = 1/4 acre), and some 6,500 dunam of agricultural land surround the city. All but 500 dunam of agricultural land were either destroyed for the path of the wall, or they exist beyond the wall, isolated from the families who own it. The wall in Qalqilia completely surrounds the city which serves the outlying villages (more than 30,000 people combined). There are 3 agricultural gates for farmers to potentially have access to their lands and one main entrance/exit (checkpoint) in the east for anyone wishing to enter or leave the city.

At one of the 3 agricultural passes sits a tank. Another is blocked by stones and rubble, and cuts down from a slippery hillside like a trench, making it impossible to reach the land with a vehicle, or even a donkey. The third gate is seldomly open. Farmers who are able to reach their fields must show permission to pass from their homes to their fields because of the construction of the wall (fence), and must be granted permission to BE on their own lands.

Before I came to Qalqilia, I stopped in to visit Jayyous, a village that adopted me as their sister, daughter, and dear friend. I arrived with a delegation of internationals from the Fellowship of Reconciliation. We had a meeting with the Qalqilia representative from Palestine's national campaign against the Wall (see www.pengon.org). He told us about the situation in the region, and then we went down for a closer look.

I arrived in Jayyous last September for a meeting with a number of farmers who were showing papers, maps, and demolition orders to me and my fellow comerades. After visiting other villages through September of last year, I returned to Jayyous in October, the first day the bulldozers arrived. Alongside the Palestinian peace activists, I also protested the violent destruction of the lands and the lives of the village. By February, the destruction was complete, but the construction of the fence and its related barriers- trenches, laser detection systems, razor wire, among other things had not nearly begun.

When I arrived in Jayyous on Sunday and saw the area where I stood with the disbelieving men, women, and children of the village... a deep sadness hit me and my heart sunk. The joy of returning to my home, to my village family and friends was bittered ... Jayyous has one gate for its 8,700 dunam of agricultural land which lie on the other side of the barrier. That night, I spent the night in the "1000 star" hotel - the land of my village father, Abu Azzam, where he has been living on the other side of the fence because the trip to the village every day is not possible to make.

I have so much more to share, and tell- so much more I am thinking and feeling. But really, I just had to let you know I am ok.

Much love,
Lisa
052.272524
011.972.52.272524

"a nation that continues year after year
to spend more money on military defense
than on programs of social uplift
is approaching spiritual death."

-martin luther king jr.



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Not for security...
Thursday
4.September.2003

*09.04.03: This morning*
Tracie, Gabe, and I walked down from the village at 6am to arrive at one of the two gates in the "barrier" of razor wire, trenches, patrol roads, fencing, trace paths, and motion detection system that surrounds Jayyous and separates it from its 8,600 dunam (2,150 acres) of agricultural land (this may have been refered to in the media as of late as a barrier or a "security fence"). Farmers begin arriving every morning at the north gate at 6:30am on donkeys, with carts, in tractors, on foot, in trucks and cars, and one farmer even rides his bicycle. These are farmers who go out to their lands daily, alone or with their brothers, sons, mothers, wives, and family... going to harvest their crops: eggplants, lemons, guava, mango, okra, tomatoes, figs, cucumbers, and even coconuts. Some come with baby seedlings to plant new crops: cabbage, tomatoes, cauliflower, cucumbers, hot peppers, and bell peppers... Others go to water their trees or to weed around their olive trees to prepare for the upcoming harvest of the olives. Everyday they wait in the mornings and the evenings for one hour, two hours, three hours, and sometimes even four hours, for the soldiers to open the gate for 5 min., 15 min., 45 min., to allow them to enter their land on the other side of the fence.

*Not for security*
The agricultural lands of the Qalqilia district are considered the food basket of Palestine. The gates along the fence have mostly been closed (some haven't ever been opened). Thousands of farmers have been prevented from reaching their lands since the fence has nearly reached completion in the first phase of the "fence" project which will eventually completely surround, isolate, and separate the land and people of Palestine. In Jayyous, the opening and closing of the gates have been unpredictable and arbitrary- like most occupation "policies". Over the past few weeks, farmers from the villages around Jayyous have travelled up to 12km to get to the gate in Jayyous only to find it closed. After a days work in their lands, farmers are held up at the gate with their crops in their trucks, in the sun... waiting... The gate (and the fence in its entirety) has become yet another way to make life difficult, and yet another place to exert Israeli control over the Palestinian people, and another possibility to humiliate the Palestinians. From closely watching the Israeli soldiers who have been opening and closing the gates each morning and evening over the past few weeks, it is clear that the "security" fence is not for security at all.

*Terrorists do not ride donkeys*
We sit at the gate in the morning to ensure that it is opened, and we stay until we hear through the farmers that everybody who wants to go to their fields have gone through, calling human rights organizations who document the restrictions on the right to freedom of movement in Palestine. We return in the evening for the same purpose. The farmers feel supported by our presence, although we sometimes feel we are not able to do enough. Many of the farmers and people in the village insist that we are the only reason the gate is opened at all. Today at the gate the farmers were notified that starting tomorrow, only donkeys and tractors and farmers on foot may enter the land through the gate; no private cars or trucks. The farmers tell us... "this is the step before the last. Soon we will not be able to go at all." When we ask the soldiers, "How are the farmers going to bring back their harvest? Why is it ok to enter the land on a donkey, and not in a car?" One soldier replied, "maybe terrorists do not ride donkeys".

*Special Arrangements*
Israel says it "recognizes the necessity of finding the appropriate balance between the imperative need to respond to terrorism and the humanitarian interests of the local residents." It claims that attempts were made to avoid separating owners from their lands. "In circumstances where such a separation is unavoidable agricultural gates are built, which allow for the farmers to cross into their land with the goal of limiting, as far as possible, damage to individuals and disruption of daily life... Special arrangements have been made for Palestinian farmers separated from their lands." Please do not believe these lies. One gate every 2-10km... opened once in the morning and once in the evening for 10 minutes to 1 hour, whenever the soldier with the key feels like opening it. No cars allowed to enter. No trucks allowed to enter. These must be the "special arrangements." The gates continue the ever-present inhumanity of the Israeli occupation. This "fence" is a permanent closure of Palestine.

-These quotes were taken from the following Israeli website. (institutionalized propaganda)
  Please do not believe these lies.
  http://www.seamzone.mod.gov.il/Pages/ENG/questions.htm

"mere praise of peace is easy but ineffective. what is needed is active participation in the fight against war and everything that leads to it."
-albert einstein, 1953



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been a while, eh?
Tuesday
21.October.2003

well well well,

i am back on the planet. i go through momentary lapses a couple times a week. today i actually thought i was falling apart. my body was ready to melt into nothingness... my mind ached and felt like it may have broken into pieces. i sat down to write this email earlier and felt it all slipping away. i had to get of my head and get on the road to get back to my home: jayyous.

in reality i don't have a home base. in my head its in jayyous, but i spend most of the week away from there... every weekend i go to beit sahour and help with the nonviolence training for the new internationals who have arrived to work with the international solidarity movement (i.s.m.) for the "olive harvest campaign." this is the second year we are coordinating international activists who come from all over the world to accompany and work with palestinians during the olive harvest. its a bit depressing that there aren't more people here, because this is the time that folks are needed. the olive harvest, i believe, is the most important time culturally, historically, and economically in the life-line of the palestinians.

the olive harvest this year has been marked by a tight closure of the entire occupied palestinan territories, arbitrary israeli military restrictions, illegal israeli settlers, and the israeli separation wall which you have all read about. as internationals, we work with communities who continue to pick in resistance to these obstacles, despite the high level of risk. at training we learn and practice ways of de-escalating violent situations and non-violent ways of intervening and responding to verbal and physical violence and weapons. for the past month or more i have been working as one of the coordinators of the campaign.

its the connected disconnectedness that makes it difficult to be out of jayyous. when i am not there in the thick of it, i might as well be on another planet (as i mentioned i was). i float in and out. i get calls every day about this one arrested or that one detained, "X" farmers waiting at the gate, or "X" farmers who were removed from their land due to new military orders explaining that nobody can enter or remain in their lands on the west side of the wall (between the wall and the green line) without permits to enter or work in israel. while it is difficult to acknowledge, process, and relate to what is happening in jayyous from a distance, it is equally as hard to function within the its context.

my friends in jayyous say i am a palestinian. they explain it to me and describe manic depression... happy and laughing and then feeling depressed, sick to my stomach, and ill; but this is normal right? here it is... it runs deep. a loneliness and a "nothing is going right" feeling comes as easily as it goes away... sadness is not always expressed with ease by those i spend time with in the village. i feel it in the pauses between their words or in the lines on their faces or in the way they take these deep breaths in and let them sink down into a sigh on their way out if they aren't caught in their chest. when they say i am a palestinian i remind them that i have not lived under occupation my whole life as they have. they tell me i am still ok and joke that i was living under american occupation, if i broke free from there, i can still get out before its "too late."

i sit and talk with my friends about our dreams: they dream of climbing a mountain, and seeing the sea and dancing in the waves and walking through the desert- all these silly things that i have done and will do when i choose, and when i find the time. yet when i think about or imagine myself in these places, with the flowers and the sand and the sun setting over something other than razor wire- i feel i cannot go without my friends who are trapped inside this prison. but we continue to scheme our getaway plan to run away from this hell.

the gates, the wall, the occupation etc... it is like a giant prison, and its driving the people mad.

two weeks ago, wednesday i was in jayyous for an action. we were trying to get to the settlement zofim which was built on jayyous land in the 80's where many families have olive trees. we got to the west gate in the fence in jayyous and it was closed, but not locked, but the farmers wouldn't go through it (the psychological impact of the occupation, of the fence...

"no chains around my feet, but i'm not free... i know i am bound here in captivity." -bob marley).

we all waited until the soldiers arrived to open the gate, but the soldiers came and put a lock on the gate and then drove away. i was sitting with the women who were crying and moaning as i remember them. we sat in the same place one year ago amidst the olive trees the israeli bulldozers uprooted to build the wall... a number of the farmers i know from spending time at the gate, well they grabbed a part of the fence that had fallen off (the whole thing is falling apart) and one of them was trying to pry open the gate.

a group of farmers began shaking the gate and after 30 seconds, the gate flung open. there was a mixture of anger, shock, fear, and pride. i could tell some of the people who had come to pick: palestinians, israeli peace activists, and internationals were a bit nervous, especially the israelis who had come to pick olives and didn't want to illegally enter through the gate. i tried to ease their mind in reminding them that the wall was illegally built! secretly, although i feared the repercussion, it was beautiful to see the farmers break through the gate. ilhamdilallah.

the gate was fixed... but i think the gate will be broken again one of these days. there is a gate in front of the gate and it now has razor wire coils all over it and under it. its a different story there everyday. the story now is the situation with the permits and whether the people along the wall will adjust to the new restrictions and conditions or resist. unfortunately, its easier to comply and adapt.

"security" on the roads is pretty damn tight. i played stupid like i didn't understand the racist regulations the soldiers were telling me. no green plated (palestinian) vehicles or palestinians, even with permits allowed on the main roads. the police told me today that it was dangerous for me to be where i was, "with the arabs." he told me that there are terrorists... and i remembered my lesson i got from a soldier once-"terrorists shoot and kill people." hmmm... so what happened in gaza? i watched the numbers rise every hour as i wrote this, 3 attacks: 3 dead, 4 attacks: 7 dead, 5 attacks: 10 dead...

i can't wait for a little drop of happiness and life: my friend ghadir and my brother ghaleb are expecting any day now. a little boy!

it must be getting nice and cold and winterish and beautiful and crisp. its getting a bit like that here. i hope you all are happy and safe. i am here. the difficulties come in caring and learning and realizing the reality of life here. that's what i came here to do.

much love,
lisa

--
"mere praise of peace is easy but ineffective. what is needed is active participation in the fight against war and everything that leads to it."
-albert einstein, 1953



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good one...
Tuesday
1.January.2004

Happy New Year.

Its winter, but I am surprised that its cold here today even though the sun is shining. On my way from Jerusalem to the roadblock into Bethlehem, I thought about what my cousin told me: "the sun here shines but there isn't any heat in it." I think about that a lot.

The rain started late this year and it has only rained for a few days at a time since then. The rain makes everything more difficult here so I don't mind the cold sunny days, but I worry about the people who collect the rainwater and use it for drinking and washing, and in order to grow their vegetables. As I climbed over the roadblock on the way to the taxis to Beit Sahour a young woman carrying a small child told me "it hasn't rained because God is angry at the people for fighting. Maybe the people will learn."

About two weeks ago I got a job with a magazine called News from Within (http://www.newsfromwithin.org) and I moved to Beit Sahour, a sleepy Christian village outside of Bethlehem just south of Jerusalem- about 10 miles. The trip takes longer depending on which way you go, and which way you enter. The main checkpoint is the Bethlehem checkpoint, but for a few extra shekels you can avoid the military checkpoints and the Israeli military. I tend to go these ways when I leave or enter the area since my tourist visa expired two months ago, making my presence here now not totally kosher.

I am renting a house which my neighbors say is the second oldest in Beit Sahour. My friend Gerry says someone told him the same thing about his house. A lot of the homes are old here, but I would believe it if mine might be one of the oldest. It is basically one big room with a separate kitchen and bathroom attached. There is a nice porch with grape vines which have turned to raisins on the tree and a citrus tree that produces large oranges that taste like lemons. The walls of my home are stone and it has a domed ceiling with chipped paint that I find beautiful and full of character. It used to be the home of my friend's friend's grandmother, and its been a boys' hang out for some time since she passed away... late night card games, cigarettes, and bottles of Arak or port wine made from the vineyards at the local monastery. Mary and Jesus hang on every wall but one. And on one wall, there is a rusted key to a home belonging to the Iyyad family that was destroyed in a village inside Israel that was destroyed in the Nakba, the Catastrophe, in the War of 1948. Among other things I found while I was cleaning out the house, were newspaper clippings from the first intifada, old coins, martyr posters, olive wood crosses, books, and other things that remind that there are so many stories hidden in these streets, in these walls, and with these people.

I spent New Year's Eve alone. Most of my beautiful and humble friends here did too.

Two of my friends who live in the Balata Refugee Camp outside of Nablus ended up staying in Nablus on New Year's Eve. Balata had been under curfew and a heavy military invasion during the past week. The day after the soldiers pulled out of Balata, they invaded the Old City of Nablus and surrounding areas. My friends spent New Year's Eve escorting and accompanying the Union of Palestinian Medical Relief Committees as they were trying to transport injured Palestinians and visitors to and from the hospital which was surrounded by Israeli military.

Two of my friends spent New Year's Eve in Israeli police stations. They were arrested while participating in a nonviolent demonstration against the illegal land confiscation for the construction of the Wall in the Palestinian village of Budrus- miles away from the greenline. They are still in Israeli custody and they have been given deportation orders for standing with the Palestinians from the village in protest of the Wall.

One of my friends went to continue to support the people of Budrus in their resistance to the building of the Wall in their land.

One of my friends was preparing for a Celebration of Resistance to the Wall that is organized by Palestinian students from the major Palestinian and Israeli universities in the East Jerusalem village of Abu Dis.

One of my friends shared the evening with Palestinians in the village of Jayyous where a Bedouin family on the other side of the Wall was informed today that their land is now part of Israel and they must leave or acquire permits to live there.

One of my friends who has been staying with me in my new home has scrubbed the floors and counters, removed the cobwebs, and makes tea, coffee, and mochas with cinnamon found herself alone in Ramallah because her friends who were coming to visit were turned back at the checkpoints along the way, and celebrations inside the city were canceled because of the situation in Palestine.

One of my friends sleeps in a threatened home along the border in Rafah in Gaza. Every night she hears Israeli military guns and tanks fire over the hme she sleeps in. She spent New Year's with a group of people who she said she didn't know existed in Palestine. "They have amazingly ignored the Occupation. They laughed and joked and talked about silly things, and pleasantly have forgotten, at least for one night, about the Occupation."

Outside my house I hear kids laughing at all times of the day. I can imagine their smiles as I listen to their laughter and their voices singing... They throw stones at my windows and run away... so today I played soccer with them in the street and made them tell me their names. They think its funny, since I am a lady... and because I am an "ijnabiya" (international).

There is an amazing old man, Ibrahim, who works around the corner in a woodshop. He has the most beautiful hard worked leather hands about the size of mine, just a whole lot stronger. He showed my friend Laura and I photographs of the chair that he made for the Pope's visit a couple years back. It was painted white with gold. He was humble and proud. He came up to the house with a piece of glass and repaired the windows for 10 shekels each- a deal ($2.25).

I have these days where I look in the mirror and I see things about myself that I don't know or that I don't remember being there before. Does this happen to you? I sometimes think its the mirror, and sometimes I think it is just because I don't look in the mirror that often.

I will send you pictures and you can tell me what you see :)

I hope this year will bring some sweetness that we can enjoy together.