Visit with the "Cave Dwellers"

Yesterday was possibly the most meaningful day I've had in Palestine so far. I fell in love. I really mean it. I fell in love in a way I never have before and I don't really know what to do with the feeling welling inside myself. I feel like part of my heart no longer belongs to me. I know this sounds sappy and melodramatic but I assure you it’s not. We went to Gwien yesterday a village of 56 people known as the cave dwellers.

The day was warm and wet with moisture ridden clouds hovering overhead. We walked the short distance into the village with our bus bumping along behind us. A stiff breeze threw my hair in all directions and raised the rich smell of the earth. I instantly felt at home as the pavement and cars and telephone poles faded into the distance and the mud squished beneath my feet. Palestine is largely covered by limestone and in the places there isn’t a house occupying the ground you’ll find an olive grove or a goat herd munching its way along. The people of Gwein are shepherds and the musky smell of their flocks was the first to greet us as we neared the camp. A collection of rickety tents made up the village with a half dozen or more caves scattered throughout. We were ushered into a dark but pleasantly warm “building” with cushions lining the wall for seats. A wood stove occupied the middle of the floor and let out a comforting heat making the interior cozy. Smoke drifted lazily about wrapping me in its delicious smell. Our host smiled and welcomed us into his home and village, but before he would answer any of our questions he made us coffee - this of course is standard Arabic hospitality… or so I thought. What he did was far and beyond any welcome I have every received. He wasn’t exaggerating when he said make coffee. First he produced raw beans, which he proceeded to roast over the wood stove. Their nutty aroma filled the tent not only with a delicious smell but also a complete feeling of peace. Next he took the freshly roasted beans and put them into a grinder. I know you’re picturing any common grinder in the western world but that’s not what I’m talking about. Picture a beautifully carved wooden bucket just smaller than 5 gallons, with a small opening and a thick staff for pounding. I was instantly mesmerized by the music that filled the room reaching my soul as our host began pounding. Rata-tat Rata-tat Rata-tat Rata-tat Rata-tat thump THUMP Rata-tat Rata-tat. He wasn’t only making coffee he was making music. The beans were thrown into the pot of boiling water before I was ready for the music to end. A few cloves of crushed cardamom were tossed in as well and the concoction began to foam over the open flame. Seconds later I cupped a tiny glass of the special coffee. Talk about a welcome.

Now despite the beauty of the process I was unable to actually drink much of the potent stuff. It tasted unlike anything I’ve ever allowed near my taste buds before and it was not for the faint of heart. As I sipped gingerly we were told how the cave dwellers have a special relationship to coffee, it is part of their culture and each village has their specific coffee culture. Gwein puts cardamom in theirs and you are supposed to drink it right away without letting it get cold or putting your cup on the floor.

Fifty-six people live in the village, of all ages and have lived there for over 200 years. Each day their land becomes smaller and smaller as Israeli settlements creep into the West Bank. The caves we visited had hundreds of years of cooking smoke and grease cling to the roof. Blankets, animal feed, cooking pots and children vied for space in the dark interiors. The boys that shyly followed us about looked out of place in the old village with their western clothes and gelled hair. It was one of these boys that I fell so completely in love with. But I’ll get to that part later.

Gwein is one of 7,000 such villages in the area. It is so isolated that the people have little to do with the outside world or the greater Israeli/Palestinian conflict. When I asked if the people had taken part of the intifadas they shook their head. They told us that the very fact that they were alive was them resisting the occupation. “We are resisting. Money comes and goes, so do people and seasons but we are here on this land. If we leave the land it will no longer be Palestinians and we will have lost.” The only income for the village comes from the occasional goat they sell and the milk and yoghurt they sell from their flocks. Life is literally lived day to day.

Five years ago Israel built the wall through their parched land cutting them off from 1,000 dunums of valuable pasture. The villagers protested as it was built but their efforts were fruitless. Not only were they cut off from some of their land Israel also denies them the right to dig wells, build buildings or even maintain the ones they already have. Their lives are literally collapsing around them.

As we wandered from one dwelling to another small children peered at us from behind door flaps. Their faces dirty, cheeks flushed pink from the cold and their eyes curious. One child no older than three caught my eye as he totted two buckets nearly his size back to his home. He was me watching him and in the half second he was not watching his feet, tumbled down the hill. No fear mom came to the rescue, scooping him up and plopping him back on his feet. Girls with long thick braids played a hopscotch style game that involved kicking a rock. Chickens clucked and squawked, donkeys he-hawed and as always the boys followed us. Everywhere I looked life was bursting forth.

Our group was making our way back to our initial meeting place when one of the boys approached me. Our conversation went as follows.

Him: Asalam Alaykum

Me: Walaykum Asalame. Keif Halak?

Him: Al hum de Allah

And that was it. A simple hand shake, a simple hello. As I walked away I heard another say, “Wa init?” And you? But by the time I realized he was talking to me it was too late. No worries we got into a conversation later. His name is Muhammad and like me he is 18. With Yossef – a student/guide from Hebron – translating we talked for a while. He wants to be a doctor and his favorite soccer team is Real Madrid. Initially Heather with her go-getter style struck up the conversation with the pack of boys who had spent the morning following us around. I had wondered over and was just hanging out in the background listening when Muhammad turned to me and in practiced English asked, “Do you have any questions?” His smile instantly stole my heart. We proceeded to talk about soccer using the few words we knew in each other’s language and fluent sign language. As soon as he moved away from the topic of soccer we needed a translator. I wanted to interview him for my research so I asked him what his greatest fear was. He understood me and gave me a very serious look; brow wrinkled and said, “foxes.” I couldn’t help but laugh. What he said next was however was more sobering, “I am Palestinian and we are not afraid of anything. Except maybe that Jerusalem will be the Israeli capital forever.” He looked at me then his brown eyes searching mine for some hint of understanding and recognition of this fear. I understand. How I wanted right then to reach and hug him. To let him know that it would all be okay that the good of mankind will overcome the bad but I did not, I could not. Instead I had to stand next to him and love him – in his purple stripped hoody and faded jeans – love him and love all the Palestinians with all of my being from a distance.

Like I said, I fell in love. I think I was drawn to his plea to be loved unconsciously or not it was there and it touched my heart. I felt helpless as I stood there in the cold wind staring at my Palestinian counterpart. What radically different lives we have led. I knew then that I have to do more than just understand and recognize his fear. For my own sake and his I have to do something about it. But what can I do? Sure I donated 100 shekels to help improve the villager’s hard lives but that was a menial contribution. I want to make a difference for good in the lives of these people. Not in a pro-Palestine or anti-Israel way. Instead my desire to act comes from a pro human rights pro justice standpoint. I know a little of what it is like to live in a tent – I spent six months doing that. I don’t however know what it feels like to live day-to-day wondering where my next meal will come from. I don’t know what it’s like to have no water because it is illegal for me to dig a well. I haven’t a clue how anguished I would feel when half my flock dies from poison distributed on my lands by Israeli settlers. And I don’t know what it feels like to be 18 and have my greatest fear be occupation of a holy city and land by an oppressor.

So what can I do? Maybe my greatest contribution will be to write about Muhammad Al-Hawamdeh and spread his story. I know at least one thing for sure. I may never see him again but he and his village have touched my heart, what a wonderful gift they have given me.

-- Jess Lewis

Hebron

Stuck in a layer of selfish discontent, trudging through a city of demise, wearing lenses clouded with irritation and anguish; how does one give love with a heart turned to stone; how does one listen when the soul will hear none of it—question after question racing around but unable to penetrate through this distrustful layer acquired from the negativity pushed upon in this overly tense area.  With lenses blurred the eyes can only glimpse a harsh minuscule fragment of what lays in front—in one cleanse these lenses would clear, shinning a new light on the situation; how simple it would be, as if releasing a deep breath; however, the breath remains held and despite the pain felt from within in wanting to exhale and release this unbearable tension, the lenses stay clouded to the point that they are finally removed—no longer able to take in any more sight.

See no evil, speak no evil, hear no evil; how easy to hide behind—and for what reason? Reality is perhaps no longer charming, the story is growing old and tired some, and thy self is simply worn out and needs a rest? How fair is it to those, who cannot tune into another reality, to turn them off—to even live in a world that shuts out the misery of others when the capacity of disheartenment is reached is unfathomable—all due to the lack of shedding this layer of ignorance which falls upon without any realization of what is taking place.

Depth upon depth of collective social order these layers are not true form rather an overlying excess covering the genuine core.  Tightly bounded, to the point of absorbency into the mind, this exorbitant suffering cannot be shed without acknowledgment of its existence.  In order to cast off this assimilation one must be mindful of the ache it brings to the soul—for when a light is shown onto this source of disparity a natural willingness for inner relief will ignite, instigating the first step to discarding this self-oppression.    

These layers provided no warmth, especially not in the town of Hebron; rather, it was the strength of those who live in the heart of this conflict with clear sight, whose love and dedication to their cause never waivers.  It was the genuine core of Hebron that provided shelter and warmth.  In that core lies a message of love conquering evil—a message so large and to be viewed with an unaided eye, unaided from layers. Hebron has shed the mentality of ‘enough already’ and has released the smothering coat of selfness.  Hebron has reopened the core and laid within it a new passage of willfulness, hope, and solidarity to be shared with those in need of a new lens.  The message of a right for justice becomes stronger with every passing moment the West Bank has to offer.

                                                                                                -- Kaitlan Mahoney

Connections with Cave Dwellers

    Meet cousins Nasser and Mohammed from the village of Gwein. These boys are part of a community known as the "cave dwellers," because these 56 people live in caves. Their simplistic life is actually a form of non-violent resistance because they refuse to leave their land  which is part of Palestine according to the '67 boarders (they also cannot build on the land due to Israeli military orders). Though it is a hard life, they say that they are used to it. Nasser (16) has five sisters and one brother & is interested religion. Mohammed (18) comes from a family of four girls and four boys and is interested in world history. In order to attend school, they have to walk ~8 km and leave at 5:00 am. Their school is in a different village. Though they don't typically have problems traveling to school, they oftentimes are harassed by soldiers and settlers on the way home. If caught, they are often beaten and even detained for up to 10 hrs. Since one of their responsibilities is working as a shepherd to watch over the village's sheep, they do their homework in the fields. In addition to caring for the sheep, they also carry water over the hills to the village and occasionally work in the city to earn some income (either illegally in Israel or in the nearby city of Hebron). For fun, they enjoy hanging out with friends from other villages, having BBQs, watching/playing soccer and boxing. They are able to keep in touch with their friends via Facebook. Both of them dream to be doctors & if they could go anywhere in the world, both of them chose America because it is an advanced country and you can go/see everywhere. Though they have been to local cities and to Nablus, it is expensive to leave Palestine. Despite speaking negatively about the occupation, Nasser & Mohammed believe that Israel itself is good and that there are good people in Israel. One of these "good people" is their cousin - an Arab Israeli who they get to see once every two months; unfortunately, they cannot cross into Israel to visit him because they have not been given permission through Israel. Both see the solution to the conflict as freedom from the occupation. Mohammed's biggest fear is the foxes (he joked), though he says that Palestinians are not really afraid of anything -- getting beat up, shot, etc because they are used to it. Nasser's biggest hope is liberation & freedom from the occupation and someday to have the ability to pray in the Al-Aqsa Mosque in Jerusalem.

A Personal Profile: Mohammed Ali

Meet Mohammed - one of our translators for the village research we're doing in Battir.  . Though he is not a refugee, he has only been outside the "West Bank" a handful of times: to Jerusalem twice - once as a little kid and once later on, illegally - and outside the wall once to get to Hebron (located in Palestine). Mohammed lives near Mt. Herodium, though he's never climbed it because he's forbidden to due to an Israel military base at the top (tourists can visit for 25 shekles, apparently). He studied at Bethlehem University where he majored in English and minored in Translation. His dream job is to work as a translator in Bethlehem, which is what he is currently doing. He would also like to attend grad school, somewhere in Palestine, or possibly in London. If he could go anywhere in the world, at the moment, he would choose Britain, though he would be happy going anywhere.

                When I asked him, "If the occupation ended tomorrow would Palestine...........," he absolutely lit up. He sees the solution to the difficulties in Israel and Palestine right now as ending the occupation, which he defined as having all the Israeli soldiers leave and allowing Palestinians to return home. Though he recognizes that some feel that if the occupation did indeed end tomorrow, Palestine might not be able to support itself as an independent nation because of certain corruption, Mohammed believes that the people would be able to unite and live peaceably. He also welcomed any Jews who currently live inside the West Bank to remain in their homes, pointing to the fact that Muslims and Christians live in harmony, as brothers.

                                                                                                                -- Heather

Second Weekend in Bethlehem District

When I imagine a vacant Israel and Palestine the description that comes to mind is a haunted theme park with ghostly silhouettes of barbed wire, steel cages, and concrete grey barriers. In the future when people begin to study the ruins of Israel and Palestine what will they think? Will they think that the Israelis were working to contain some ancient and evil ravenous creatures? Surely that must be the case, with the measures taken to ensure security of those on the outside. I’ll get back to that subject soon.

Saturday, we once again set out to tour Bethlehem, I thought to myself “how much could there really be left to see?” and I would soon find that this town may not have the breadth of land that it once did, but it runs miles deep. The day consisted of several events that, as I reflect on them, remind me of a theme park or perhaps a circus. (*It is important to note that throughout this entire session we had the aid of a translator.)

                First we saw the caged family. The caged family lives underneath a bridge that was set in place to link Israeli settlements together. The family located under this bridge has lived there for over 18 years, long before the bridge was ever erected. Before that they had lived their lives in Palestinian refugee camps, so having this home outside of the camps was a dream come true. One day Israeli soldiers came through and said “we’re putting a security fence here, this is now a military zone.” This particular fence separates the rest of Bethlehem and Palestine from the newly declared military zone and the surrounding settlements. The fence closed this family in. The entire interview that we had with the woman of the house was conducted through a solid mesh steel gate about 14 feet in length and 9ft in height. Beyond the gate, going up the valley on both sides, were continuous spools of barbed wire leading to a firmly positioned cylindrical concrete watch tower. Here sat a simple family, raising goats and sheep, growing and harvesting olive trees, and struggling to live distanced from civilization. At first there were Israeli soldiers stationed here 24hrs a day, letting the family in and out 2 times a day for necessities only. The son who was attending school at the time was young, angry and would struggle and fight with the soldiers every morning.  Eventually his father had taken him out of school because he was afraid that the soldiers might kill him, the woman explained that it is easy to justify killing a Palestinian “all they would have to do is say that he had a knife.”  “So,” she said, “he has no future.” After a little time and a lot of international attention they were able to contract a lawyer to defend their case in the Israeli courts. They were granted a key to the gate so they can come and go almost as they please. The soldiers were eventually replaced with cameras. There are still downfalls in that no one is allowed within the gate, not even doctors. I struggle to think about what would happen if there was a fire and no emergency vehicles were let in.

                Second were the man in the wall and the tree keeper. The man in the wall and the tree keeper both have the same problem; the “security wall”. In two different cases the wall is causing the same problem, it is cutting off the life source of these individuals. On one hand there is a man and his family surrounded by 18ft concrete pylons that cut him off from his inherited land. This older man had groves of decades old olive trees uprooted by Israelis in the name of a secure road for settlers to travel on. The man has no problem with the necessity of the road, just the path along which it has been built. In fact he said that this road is not safe enough. Assuming that the Israelis do indeed have security in mind, he recommended that they reroute the road around the mountain to cover it in concrete and make it truly safe. Any individual would be able to easily throw an object over the wall and onto the highway under the roads current construction plan.

                On the other hand we have the tree keeper. The tree keeper is a wall of a man standing at about 6’5” who sported a brown set of coveralls spotted with signs of dirt and oil. He had a very polite and jolly demeanor and was more than willing to share his opinions. He told us of the wall and occupation and how it had dramatically decreased the size of the land that the town was built on. In front of him sat a trailer full of olive tree pieces. He said to us “this is what I get from the Israelis” with a slight chuckle. He pointed at the security wall, which lie within 30 ft of his back door, and said “this wall cannot be solely for security purposes because I can easily see over it from my second floor” one of our translators and guide for the day, Marwan, pointed out that “from this spot someone could easily harm and Israeli settler with a small gun,” so it stands that this is not only a wall for “security” but for securing more lands in the West Bank. The tree keeper said proudly in his hearty voice “we have the oldest olive trees in the world in this village,” Marwan once again chimed in and exclaimed “A Japanese university came and did a study examining the tree and found it to be 4 or 5,000 years old.” They now want to move the fence around to annex this tree into Israeli occupied Jerusalem.

                We rounded out the day with the good doctor who gave us a lecture on non-violence and action. As he clicked through his power point presentation he arrived at a slide with a graffiti-ridden wall that read in white lettering “To exist is to resist.” This is what it has come to for the Palestinian people. To simply live means to defy the intentions of their oppressor.

                The Israelis have turned Palestine into their own little circus. Inadvertently perhaps, but it has happened nonetheless. The attractions are real people with real lives that are being ever pressured because of the suffering of another race. A race that believes that they are owed a state of their own,  because they have suffered and struggled for it, because they have bled and died for it, and because it has been given to them from the hands of God himself.  Who can really blame them? That though, does not justify the incitement of suffering on another race.

                The Israelis are not trying to eradicate the Palestinians. They are trying to discourage them through any means possible by taking control of, and manipulating the settings in which Palestinians live. They have a monopoly on imported goods, they only allow permits and development if it is to their benefit even if it is vital municipal systems like sewer treatment, they limit travel to Jerusalem which is the religious hub of all of Israel, and the unemployment rates are outrageous at 50% in Gaza and 35% in the West Bank. Unemployment levels are due to the confiscation of village agricultural land.

                 I’ve come to Palestine expecting a downtrodden people and instead found inspiring examples of perseverance, loyalty, and steadfastness that will stick with me forever. This is it. This is human interaction at its worst and its best. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction and the reaction here is the deeply rooted existence of the Palestinian people. For every kilometer of land the Israelis take, the Palestinians just root themselves a kilometer deeper. The Palestinians are living their lives and they’re getting better at it by the day.  So when that future society sifts through the sands of history here in the holy land they will find that the Israelis were not containing an evil within the walls but a struggling piece of humanity that flourished in the face of adversity.

*These are my thoughts somewhat compiled from my experiences thus far and are subject to change. (In my commercial disclaimer voice.)

--Dan Warfel

Delectable Treats

AFTEEM

"I just consumed my weight in hummus, pita and falafel" ....no, seriously! Since we've been here we've indulged in many, many delicious rounds of Palestinian food ranging from Middle Eastern commodities such as hummus and falafel to more traditional dishes like maqluba (upside-down eggplant, rice, meat and cauliflower casserole), shawarma, zaatar (spice blend) and foul. YUM! 

Step 1: Falafel

Last night, we had the great blessing of putting our culinary skills to the test and learning how to cook Palestinian food at a fantastic restaurant in Bethlehem called Afteem. With all 14 of us crammed in their tiny little kitchen, it was quite the site to see. Imagine if you saw a huge group of Palestinians behind the counter at a restaurant were you chose to dine!

We started off learning how to prepare the falafel which consists of chickpeas (11 pounds of chickpeas), parsley, onions, hot peppers, garlic and various spices. Fortunately, they had already soaked the chickpeas for 6 hrs before we arrived. The ingredients were put through a food processor into a large bucket and then mixed together by hand, ready then to be fried.

Mixing the falafel!

 

11 lbs of chick peas for hummus

Next, we learned how to make hummus (and they have THE BEST hummus in the world here). Stated with another 11 pounds of chickpeas and added in salt, lemon, garlic, hot pepper and sesame oil. All those were mixed together in a large blender which was pretty sweet. Then, put into two gi-mungo bowls to serve to the restaurant.

Sarah & Kateland chopping vegetables

 After that, we headed right into chopping up vegetables to make Arabic salad which consists of cucumbers, tomatoes, parsley, onion and some spices. 

Falafel

Frying the falafel

We ended our cooking class frying up the falafel which was an interesting process. HUGE wok full of oil and an ice cream scoop device to form the falafel patties and plop them in the oil to deep fry them. Everyone had their turn, though for some it came a bit more easily than for others ;) Our guide, Elias, definitely showed us all up making it look easy.

Pita and hummus

Perhaps the BEST part of the evening was when we all got to sit down together and enjoy a fabulous feast! After, we got to hear a bit about the history of the restaurant which was started in 1948. What a wonderful evening full of delicious food and new friends!  

Jessie, Brie & Adrian enjoying dinner!

Katie & Jess helping, too

Dan & JNess

Katie chopping vegetables

Cyri helping fry falafel

                                                                                                                             

Volunteering in the Villages

Bumping along the road, I sat hands gripped onto the seat in front of me, so as not to slide into Eric or Dan sitting on either side of me. The little yellow taxi whipped around the curves, wildly maneuvering the potholes and jostling us over the speed bumps. Arriving at our destination, we piled out of the car nodding “ma’ salama” to our driver and headed inside to the counsel building where we were to conduct our interviews for the day.

As Katie mentioned in the first blog post, we are volunteering with Holy Land Trust (HLT) while here in Bethlehem. HLT works to encourage non-violence as a means for strengthening and empowering Palestinian people to develop spiritual, pragmatic and strategic approaches for resisting oppression. As volunteers, we are conducting research work in two local villages to learn about the social, and environmental impacts of the wall on these communities. Four of us are working in a village called Nahaleen. Located in a valley surrounded by four Israeli settlements, Nahaleen has been greatly affected by the occupation. Since 1967, the members of the village have suffered many problems including environmental degradation, loss of land, imprisonment, random attacks, the list goes on. Our job as volunteers is to collect historical and current information on Nahaleen and compile a report for HLT.

As we sat around a table in the counsel building listening to different villagers, we began understanding what it really means to live in this village. The first man we spoke with, Mohammad Abdul Rahman Shakarna, was born in 1943 and has grown up in Nahaleen observing the major changes that have occurred over time. As Mohammad described the many challenges he and his village have faced over time, I was impressed at how calm he was. Until 2003, Mohammad worked as a shepherd, traveling throughout the land with his herd of 350 sheep. Since 1967, he has struggled to find land to feed his livestock or safe areas where he is not harassed by settlers or Israeli soldiers. In 2003, Mohammad’s son was headed home with his herd of sheep when Israeli settlers captured and imprisoned him and took all his sheep. Mohammad went to the police (the Israeli police, since there was no Palestinian police force at the time) to explain his situation and reclaim his goats. After the settlers denied having took the sheep, the police ignored Mohammad and did nothing. Driving back in the police car, Mohammad spotted one of his goats on the side of the road. Leaping out of the car, he picked up his goat, and hustled back to the police car. When he was told he couldn’t get in the car with his goat, he proceeded to walk, and the police car drove away. After placing his goat down, it took off and led him to where the rest of his goats were being kept. Hiding out until the settlers guarding the goats left, Mohammad quietly opened the enclosure, let the sheep out and tried to quietly leave. As he was leaving, he was confronted by two Israeli settlers, closely followed by two more. After dodging stones thrown at him and a slew of threats, Mohammad picked up two stones in defense. The settlers backed away and Mohammad was able to escape.

After much hard work and time spent with the police, Mohammad was able to get some of his herd back, and his son was released from jail. But what now? Since the settlements have taken much of Nahaleen’s land, and all of the water in the village has been polluted, Mohammad’s family can no longer keep the sheep herd. He now has only 40 sheep left, which bring him no profit. “It is for passing time,” he told us. It is no longer economically viable to keep livestock for shepherd in Nahaleen. But he keeps his sheep in order to hold onto his and his village’s history.

Immersed in a constant battle against land loss, encroaching settlements, and pollution problems, Mohammad and his family continue to live in this small village. So why do they stay in Nahaleen, when there is so little land and so many hardships? We asked another farmer from the village why he remained in Nahaleen and why it was important to him. He looked at us blankly and then exclaimed loudly, “It is home!” Of course he would continue living in Nahaleen! His family, his history, his life is all there. How can he give that up?

Na’am, the former head of the town counsel elaborated on the idea of Nahaleen and its place as a home for the villagers: “We believe that if we are living here in Nahaleen, it is a part of the resistance to the occupation. We accept this.” After a moments pause he shrugged and said, “Where else to go?”

I was so moved by out time in Nahaleen, and I know many more stories await us over the next three months. The more I see, the move I realize how little I know. There is so much I need to learn, so many stories to hear, and so many different sides to the same history. This has been the most eye-opening, inspirational, and thought provoking two and a half weeks of my life. I look forward to just how amazing the next two and a half months will be!  

                                                                                                -Sarah Oakes