On Being a Palestinian inside Israel (Oct. 28, 2022

Here’s the thing: Duaa is a citizen of Israel, but/and she is Palestinian. She works part time at the Palestine Institute for Biodiversity and Sustainability (PIBS) as a biologist, and full time as a high school teacher in a public school for Palestinian children. She is one of the 20% of Israelis who are Arab Palestinians. I have found it difficult to wrap my head around this fact: that the Palestinian Muslim woman I am talking to is an Israeli. Under her hijab and modest dress is a strong, independent and politically aware professional woman. And she is not bothered by being 34 and unmarried. When I asked her to tell her story, in order to help Americans back home feel connected to the people of Palestine, she wanted to start with the story of her village, Beit Safafa. She explained that in 1949, when the boundary outlining the new state of Israel was traced on a map and called the Green Line, it was drawn right through the middle of her village. So half the village was inside Israel, and the other not. Jordan was in control of the other half, which fell within the Jordanian territory known as the West Bank. On the Israeli side of the village Palestinians were made citizens of Israel, given Israeli IDs and passports, and educated in Israeli schools and universities. They were able to seek employment in Israeli businesses with Israeli salaries and benefits, like health insurance. The villagers on the Jordanian side of the Green Line did not have access to good paying jobs or benefits, although they could access good educations in the Arab world. When Jordan lost control of the West Bank in the ’67 war – the start of the Israeli military occupation—Beit Safafa was physically reunited but still divided by citizen status. Those with Israeli IDs could pass that status down to their children, who tended to look down on their neighbors who had Palestinian IDs. Another big benefit of having an Israeli ID is the freedom to travel. They can drive around Israel and enter Jerusalem. Those with a Palestinian ID cannot enter Jerusalem or Israel without a permit--not easy to get. And their freedom of movement inside the West Bank is interrupted by walls, checkpoints, segregated roads, and settler violence. The village is only now beginning to overcome its segregated attitudes, as they are more aware of what unites them – Israel’s discrimination against Palestinians, whether citizens or not – and the fact that their village is totally surrounded by Israeli settlements . As a public school teacher living inside the Green Line, Duaa is employed by the Israeli Ministry of Education. The curriculum at her school is controlled by Israel, which forbids her to teach about the “Nakba” (Catastrophe), of 1948, when 2/3’s of the population of Palestine was expelled from their homes and villages by Jewish militias. Neither can she comment on any current protest against Israel’s oppressive occupation. Since Duaa teaches biology, this is not much of an issue for her, but her students come to school bringing the events of their daily lives under occupation with them, and of course they talk among themselves. One of her students had her home demolished by the Israeli army, and one lost a cousin to an Israeli bullet. Luckily, there are counseling services at the school. Duaa’s father has an Israeli ID, while her mother does not. So, Duaa struggles with identity, as she thinks many Palestinians living in Israel do. Should they identify more with Israel because they are citizens, or with Palestine, because they are Palestinian. Duaa defines herself as a Palestinian with an Israeli passport. Duaa has a sister and two brothers. Her older sister, married with 2 children, has lived in Africa a total of 5 years, between South Africa and Kenya. She is an artist and now teaches art in a Palestinian school . One brother has joined their father in his business as a bakery/catering service. Her youngest brother works as an accountant for an Israeli business. Again, my mind says, “But wait, why would he want to work for the oppressor?” forgetting that her brother is also Israeli, and the good paying jobs with benefits are there. Duaa herself is an educator/trainer of other Palestinian teachers, but her supervisor is an Israeli Jew, and she has co-workers who are Jews. I shake my head. I see why identity is an issue. Her message to my audiences in the U.S.? Realize that this (the occupation) is injustice. It is not a “conflict” where the two sides can learn to love each other. One side is the oppressor and the other side is the oppressed. It is not based on hate or religion. It is a colonial system. Duaa says, “It feels like history is repeating itself, because before us Africa was colonized. This is not anti-semitism . Absolutely not. And it needs to end, and that’s it.” Will she vote in the Israeli election Nov 1? No. She did vote twice, but not anymore, because it won’t make any difference in her life.

Grim Results of Israel's Apartheid. And a Story

My friend Michel runs a Palestinian, geo-political, tour guide agency. Grit and persistence keep it going, as tourism has dropped due to Covid. I asked for his assessment of the recent increase in settler and Israeli army violence against Palestinians. (Over 200 Palestinians, mostly civilians, and journalists Shireen Abu Akleh and Ghurfan Huran have been killed so far this year.) And what effect would the upcoming Israeli elections have on this situation? One of Michel’s tour guides, who had just served us Arabic coffee, answered first. She thought the candidates for Prime Minister of Israel were competing for who would be the toughest on Palestinians, thus spurring on instead of restraining, acts of violence like uprooting olive trees, attacking farmers and even international supporters as they attempted to harvest or work their land, vandalizing cars, and praying at the Al Aqsa Mosque in Jerusalem. I had read about all of these acts over the last few months, and asked if this incitement to violence would subside after the elections? “Maybe; but maybe the winner will set about implementing the threats made during the campaign.” Michel pointed out that the majority of the Israeli Knesset are now settlers, and will act to protect their interests and to satisfy their (settler) constituents. He likened today’s atmosphere of fear and aggression to the 1930’s when the Jewish underground was armed and very active (with British support) against the native Palestinian population. He didn’t hold out hope that the situation would improve after the election, though Israel might turn its attention away from internal policy and toward appeasing international concerns about the clear violations of Palestinian rights, settler aggression, and killings. “The only hope lies in Europe waking up, he added. American will never be a fair broker, Russia doesn’t care, and Asia is focused on trade.” I didn’t get to ask Michel, who was about to start a staff meeting, if he thought Europe would wake up, but there is no evidence that the Western world is about to defy the United States in order to change the course of events in Palestine and Israel. Finally, I asked what I should say to my community back home. I will be asked to give talks… “They will not understand. The only way to understand is to come here. And anything you say against Israel will be attacked by the media. But, do tell our stories. So, dear readers, here is a story that I offer to illustrate that Palestinians are not all of one mind. Jihan is a mother of 3, the youngest only 5 months old. She works part time at the Museum as a Biologist. She is married to a Greek Orthodox priest. (Note: It is only Roman Catholic priests who cannot marry.) As I know from a friend Stateside that being married to a minister can be challenging, I asked her about that. She admitted that it is hard being married to a priest due to his many duties that require a strict diet and periods of celibacy. But her discontent lay elsewhere. Sadly, Jilian would like to leave Palestine. She said that Muslims discriminate against the Christian minority, and beside that her grandmother is Lebanese. Palestinians don’t like the Lebanese because of their more “liberal” life-style, and Jilian feels that prejudice even though she dresses conservatively. (The Lebanese don’t like Palestinians either, maybe because of that very prejudice. The thousands of Palestinians in refugee camps in Lebanon are not allowed passports nor work permits.) As part-Lebanese, and as wife of a priest, and as a Christian in a majority Muslim country, Jihan does not feel she belongs anywhere. I let her sadness sink in, and then asked where would she go, if she could? “Anywhere were people love each other.” Then, as if knowing that that place doesn't exist, she added, “ People suffer everywhere; I would like them to be happy. I try to be loving to everyone “so they will feel it.”

Last words before leaving Palestine

I feel I owe it to Palestine to write one more blog before leaving here. There hasn’t been time to write in the mornings, and I am too tired in the evenings. That goes for this evening too, except that news from Nablus and how it is affecting my friends there is keeping me from relaxing. Last night the Israeli army invaded Nablus, headed into the Old City, massacred 5 men, and injured dozens more in a futile attempt to destroy a new, independent, guerilla group called “Lion’s Den.” No, Palestinian armed resistance will not bring peace, but people are applauding such resistance because Israel is assassinating Palestinian civilians and children at an ever increasing rate: so far this year 175, including 41 children. Some of those deaths were retaliation against Palestinian attacks on Israelis, but it is hardly tit for tat. Israel wages war and Palestinians resist. It is grim. As a young Palestinian said to me this afternoon, as he was driving me back to my house, “How are we going to stop this?” Well, of course I don’t know. How are we going to stop the climate criminals? How are we going to stop white supremacy? Etc. How are we going to keep trying, when we cannot see the arc bending towards justice? Back to Nablus: for two weeks Nablus has been under siege by the Israeli army, meaning all entrances are closed by military checkpoints. (Do Americans know what a military checkpoint is? Not really.). To get into the city, you have to know all the little villages surrounding the city, and which back roads might be open. Even then, you might encounter a “flying checkpoint” – one that wasn’t there a few minutes ago, but is now manned by soldiers and a metal strip of spikes across the road. Once inside the city, you can’t be sure where you might end up, but certainly it won’t be the bus station you used to use. Then there is the question of leaving the city. At this moment, Israel is intent on keeping every one of the 475,000 inhabitants locked down. So, all exits are blocked. Again, your driver can try back roads, but there is no guarantee he will be successful. If I get into Nablus, I might not get out again in time to catch my plane back to the States. Some of you know that I am trying to meet up with “my family” in Nablus, and with my friend, Mohammed, who is also director of the Palestinian House of Friendship. (PHF) I had made up my mind to go to Nablus in spite of the dangers, in order to see my family for the first time in 3 years, even if I couldn’t see Mohammed, who has been ill. But I can’t risk not getting out of the city in time to fly home. Tonight I heard from Mohammed that actually he is not in Nablus, but in Ramallah, getting further medical testing. And Majed is there too. And maybe I can meet up with them in Ramallah. Maybe, maybe. And it would mean not seeing my family at all, not this year. Tomorrow has come and gone. I did see Mohammed and his three adult children in Ramallah. (I did not get to Nablus to see my other family, which was expecting me.) The mini-van public transport from Bethlehem to Ramallah was a smooth hour and 20 minute ride. The ride back at 4:30 was one big traffic jam which our driver avoided several times by taking detours through narrow village streets along the way. I took photos of the settlements and soldiers we kept passing on the main roads. And of the air pollution, which is intense here. I haven’t time to edit this ramble. I would like to give you a sense of what the day in Ramallah was like. Majed picked me up in the center of the city and took me to a posh café – so posh that it served bagels and lox and did not have Arabic coffee! However, it is one of Mohammed and Majed’s favorite places. I had a latte and large slice of Tiramisu. Then I launched into my interview of Majed, which lasted 2 hours, until Mohammed arrived, straight from the doctor’s office where he had undergone the last series of diagnostic tests. I knew I couldn't trouble Mohammed to dictate his annual thank you letter to American PHF donors, so had prepared questions for Majed instead. Majed was truly delighted to be asked to fill me in about the last year’s activities at PHF and projections for the future. He is the main executer of the projects that Mohammed initiates. As such he has taken about 40 trainings and then himself trained 2 Palestinian women to carry out the projects. I can’t include more details here. Suffice to say that It is a privilege to support the work of PHF. Let me know if you have any questions about Palestine. I am eager to share what I have learned and the people I have met.

MUSINGS ON LIVING UNDER CONSTANT THREATS , LOCALLY AND GLOBALLY

 Maybe because everyone around me today is facing daily and nightly threats to their safety and sanity, I am paying more attention to what that must be like.

I realize that we are all living with the existential threats of nuclear annihilation and climate catastrophe, and that we manage not to dwell on that reality.  I am speaking as a white person of adequate means, who lives in a peaceful, rural setting.  I am aware that what I am feeling is largely determined by that identity.

 

But today I am in occupied Palestine, where there is no relief from the conditions of military occupation. Everyone’s days and nights are impacted by armed soldiers who do not have the least respect for Palestinian life or culture. Try to picture yourself in the following.  On her way to work as a teacher or nurse, or engineer or lawyer, Mariam may be stopped and her purse searched while she waits for a young foreign (i.e. Israeli) soldier to hand back her I.D. and allow her to continue on.  She cannot protest for fear of prolonging this process, already prolonged for as long as the soldier feels like making her wait.  There is no way for her to avoid feeling humiliated, but one resistance she can offer is to show no emotion whatsoever.  The soldier would rather see her squirm.  Multiply this by thousands of Palestinians who are trying to get to work on time.

 

Put a young mother with a baby in her arms in that same position.  She may not squirm, but the child might cry for whatever reason babies cry, and the mother cannot quickly find a solution to console her child.  Or let’s say that the victim of this treatment is a man taking his six year old son to the doctor for a painful earache.  He had to get a special permit to cross the checkpoint for medical reasons.  Even with the permit,  the soldier tells the father to lift his shirt or stand in the rain, and the boy takes this in.  His father treated like a child.

 

Once father and son return from the doctor and get through the checkpoint, they will walk by the home that was just reduced to rubble. It wasn’t their home, this time, or maybe it was. And maybe when they left home this morning, it was still standing, the boy’s toys and books neatly on a shelf in his bedroom.  He   knows that his older brother was arrested a few nights ago because that was a very scary night, being woken up by soldiers with guns breaking down the front door at 2:00 in the morning.  He remembers he wet his bed because he was so scared.  He is too young to understand why his brother’s arrest was followed by punishment for the whole family and his toys ruined.

I have often wondered how I would feel if my house burned down and I lost everything in it, and what would I most miss.  I think I would mourn most the loss of my journals and photos.  But a Palestinian woman loses something much more profound: the center of family life, a place of safety, of comfort, and a sense of belonging.  It is something she can never recover, even if she has the means to rebuild her house.

 

Neither fathers nor mothers can keep their children from going out to protest the appearance of Israeli armoured jeeps in their streets.  Typically, the children throw stones at the invaders. Typically, the soldiers fire tear gas at the children who may retreat temporarily.  But when the kids start in again, the soldiers fire live ammunition, and often hit their target.  Then there is a dead or maimed child, and a mother who can’t bear the grief, and school chums who saw what happened – the blood, their friend lying still in the street.  This is a daily possibility that hangs in the air. Every Palestinian watches these scenarios on the TV evening news.

 

A common scenario in Bethlehem, about a quarter mile from where I volunteer at the natural history museum, is for youth to throw stones at an enormous military watch tower to express their outrage at the latest aggression against their lives. They did this just yesterday, and the tear gas used to stop them drifted downhill to the museum. As we felt our eyes tear and throats burn, we closed the windows.  This time the protest was in solidarity with the 30,000 residents of Shuafat refugee camp just North of Jerusalem.  Israel had closed all traffic in and out of the camp for three days as the army searched for a Palestinian they presumed to be the killer of an Israeli soldier. (Interestingly, Israel’s mighty army has not yet found the killer, aka resistance fighter.)

 

To prove the pointlessness of using military force, to hold on to power, the closure of Shuafat enraged another 120,000 people who needed to access the camp or at least drive near to it to conduct the business of their daily lives. So when Shuafat called for a nationwide general strike, the youth of Bethlehem (and presumably in hundreds of other places in the West. Bank) responded. The army fired tear gas at the youth, and prepared to use live fire if they did not disperse.  

 

To be continued….

 

 

 

 

 

Tidbits of the Larger Picture

 Walking around the Old City in East Jerusalem yesterday, I succumbed to a shop owner's appeal to see the work of Palestinian artists on display in the next shop, knowing that it was really an appeal to buy something. I did buy something in the end, overcome by the very clever strategy of  the owner, but in the process I got to interview the woman who was tending the gallery of Palestinian artists. After I  had appreciated the paintings and reproductions that filled the small space, I started chatting with Rula, who was probably just bored enough (for lack of customers) not to mind my intrusion.

Rula, age 58, with long, wavy brown hair is the divorced mother of four adult children, all of whom live in the U.S. and all are graduates of U.S. universities. She raised the children alone.  When she was just 4 she was sent to a private school because of the dangers her family faced after the '67 war. The separation from her parents was traumatic. Her father was raised in Jaffa, and was among the thousands forced to flee from there in '48, leaving behind a beautiful home.  What became of all those beautiful homes?  They are now very high-value Israeli homes.  The Palestinian owners gradually sold them for very little in order to take their children to safer apartment buildings. What I hadn't known is that Israel had a policy of pushing drugs to children so that the parents would leave.  Which they did, selling far below the market value buildings now worth millions.

I asked Rula a question that has been pressing on me for some time.  Did she think the Israelis will take over the whole of Jerusalem's Old City, already filling with more and more settlers and soldiers? Sadly, she said, "Yes. They will take it all". One of their methods is to promote the sale of drugs to children.  Parents decide to leave to protect them.  They need to sell their apartments, but few Palestinians can afford the price.  Israeli settlers can afford it, and the family submits to that reality. One more settler family them moves into the Muslim Quarter of the Old City.  I already know that settlers make for noisy, obnoxious behaviors which they hope will influence more Palestinians to leave.

This scenario is both enraging and very sad.  Rula said I should not be so sad for Palestine, as it will make me sick.  "And besides,  the world is changing. The U.S. is not as strong; China and Russia are stronger. Israel is reaching out to Arab countries because Israel knows it cannot depend on U.S. protection forever.  So she has hope.

Later I read an email from Churches for Middle East Peace reporting that the U.S. government is concerned about the uptick in violence in the West Bank, and was asking both sides to deescalate.  And I say to myself, "How interesting: the US is concerned now that some Palestinians have become violent toward Israeli soldiers, but not concerned about years of Israeli's daily aggression against Palestinians."

I would add a photo of Rula, but tech difficulties are interfering!  Best I send this blog when I can.  I send it with love for Palestine and all peacemakers, Sherrill