Wednesday, November 12th
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Despite the fact that yesterday’s workday in the West Bank
was relatively short, it was still successful and productive in
many ways. As before, it was also difficult for me in terms of
making me more aware of what is going on, and there were
even incidents that horrified me and made me feel very
ashamed of what Israel is doing there. I say this with the
realization that I know the army must be there, but I question
actions that were taken and why they were taken.
I was told beforehand that we would not be harvesting olives
this time, but planting olive trees and that it would be a short
day. I was delighted with the prospect of doing this, and
wondered what would happen.
Our driver dropped us five Israeli volunteers at a field south
of the Tapuach Junction near Shiloh. We were told that
there would be a busload of American supporters of Rabbis
for Human Rights (In Hebrew: Yesh Din) who would be
arriving with trees and would lend a hand.
We were greeted by several of the local farmers: Abu
Nasser, who explained the land belonged to him, and an
elderly man named Mahmoud shook my hand warmly and
then proceeded to begin digging holes. As we entered the
field a white vehicle labeled “Security” pulled up alongside
us, stopped, and inquired what we were doing there and
where we were from. We informed them politely that we were
from Tel Aviv and the Galilee and other places, and that we
were guests of the people here. They looked us up and
down and then gave us the equivalent in Hebrew of “Have a
nice day.”
The first thing we had to do was to try and level a mound of
earth that had been put in the middle of the dirt road to the
field by the army to block the farmers from bringing their
tractor into their field. Why? Don’t ask me. We were told
that the road was continually opened and closed according
to the whims of the army.
It soon became apparent that the crew of the white security
vehicle was not really interested in all of us having a nice
day. Evidently the white car’s crew had done their job of
perpetual surveillance and called in the army. Within a few
minutes a khaki-colored army vehicle appeared out of
nowhere, or more accurately, roared into the field at
breakneck speed as if they were there to deal with a ful-
blown emergency. Two officers armed with M-16s jumped
out and approached the Palestinians and us where we stood
next to the mound of earth. I drew closer and stood next to
them. They began arguing with the farmers and demanding
to know why they had removed the roadblock.
“These people are here to work in their fields,” I explained
politely. (As if they had any doubt of their intention.) I was
ignored. One of the officers made a lunge for the hoe that
one of the farmers was holding and attempted to take it away
from him, but he did not let go. (Good for him!)
A choice flashed through my mind: grab my camera and take
pictures, or intervene. I figured that if I had the hoe and not
the farmer, the soldier wouldn’t hassle me and would leave
the Palestinian alone, so I put out my hand and he handed
me his hoe. That ended the scuffle. Why an armed soldier
had to try and forcefully take a tool away from a farmer is
totally beyond my comprehension. I felt totally ashamed of
the officer’s action.
The Palestinian farmer turned to me and said in Hebrew,
“Don’t be afraid. It’s not a weapon.”
“I’m not afraid. Of course it’s not a weapon. Here, tfadal....”
With that I returned his hoe.
I was enraged and really wanted to get a picture of the
officer who had done this, but by this time they were in their
car, turning around so fast that we all had to jump out of the
way, and were off in a cloud of dust. Khalas (enough) I
thought. Now can we get to work? We then proceeded to
start digging holes.
It was then that the busload of Americans arrived, led by
Rabbi Yehiel Grenimann and Rabbi Arik Ascherman, bearing
olive tree saplings, cameras, and bottles of water and
looking like an expedition for Tu Bishvat. They soon
enthusiastically joined us, though there were hardly enough
tools to go around. Most of the digging was done by the
Palestinians and the Israeli volunteers, but the Americans,
eager to help, gave it a good go anyway and made a
tremendous effort with the hoes and pixckaxes. Digging was
no easy matter since the earth was very hard and rocky. I
was vividly reminded of digging 8000 holes in the rocky soil
of the Galilee 26 years ago when we planted apple and pear
trees on the kibbutz.
Within an hour or so all 100 trees were in the ground and
everyone was happy. This was all they dared start with, lest
the settlers pull them out. There was a lot of picture taking,
a lot of laughter and mentioning of the name “Obama” in
halting English, and I imagine many of the people took home
photos of themselves posing with the kafiyyeh-clad
Palestinians. As we turned to go the two vehicles entered
the field again. It was all I could do to keep from staying
behind to watch, and I kept turning around and looking back
in suspicion, afraid that they would start uprooting the trees
right then and there. I wondered if they would even let the
farmers in with a tank of water to irrigate the new trees until
the next rain fell.
We left the field together with them and walked over to a
nearby field where new faucets for a modern irrigation
system were contained inside a new, locked wire enclosure.
These trees had barrels around them and, as was explained
to the American group by Rabbi Ascherman, they had been
planted by settlers who claimed that the land belonged to
them. Probably they had no certificate of ownership. The
Israeli courts often demanded that the Palestinian farmers
present aerial photographs of their land. Now where are
they supposed to get money to send up a plane and provide
that?
was relatively short, it was still successful and productive in
many ways. As before, it was also difficult for me in terms of
making me more aware of what is going on, and there were
even incidents that horrified me and made me feel very
ashamed of what Israel is doing there. I say this with the
realization that I know the army must be there, but I question
actions that were taken and why they were taken.
I was told beforehand that we would not be harvesting olives
this time, but planting olive trees and that it would be a short
day. I was delighted with the prospect of doing this, and
wondered what would happen.
Our driver dropped us five Israeli volunteers at a field south
of the Tapuach Junction near Shiloh. We were told that
there would be a busload of American supporters of Rabbis
for Human Rights (In Hebrew: Yesh Din) who would be
arriving with trees and would lend a hand.
We were greeted by several of the local farmers: Abu
Nasser, who explained the land belonged to him, and an
elderly man named Mahmoud shook my hand warmly and
then proceeded to begin digging holes. As we entered the
field a white vehicle labeled “Security” pulled up alongside
us, stopped, and inquired what we were doing there and
where we were from. We informed them politely that we were
from Tel Aviv and the Galilee and other places, and that we
were guests of the people here. They looked us up and
down and then gave us the equivalent in Hebrew of “Have a
nice day.”
The first thing we had to do was to try and level a mound of
earth that had been put in the middle of the dirt road to the
field by the army to block the farmers from bringing their
tractor into their field. Why? Don’t ask me. We were told
that the road was continually opened and closed according
to the whims of the army.
It soon became apparent that the crew of the white security
vehicle was not really interested in all of us having a nice
day. Evidently the white car’s crew had done their job of
perpetual surveillance and called in the army. Within a few
minutes a khaki-colored army vehicle appeared out of
nowhere, or more accurately, roared into the field at
breakneck speed as if they were there to deal with a ful-
blown emergency. Two officers armed with M-16s jumped
out and approached the Palestinians and us where we stood
next to the mound of earth. I drew closer and stood next to
them. They began arguing with the farmers and demanding
to know why they had removed the roadblock.
“These people are here to work in their fields,” I explained
politely. (As if they had any doubt of their intention.) I was
ignored. One of the officers made a lunge for the hoe that
one of the farmers was holding and attempted to take it away
from him, but he did not let go. (Good for him!)
A choice flashed through my mind: grab my camera and take
pictures, or intervene. I figured that if I had the hoe and not
the farmer, the soldier wouldn’t hassle me and would leave
the Palestinian alone, so I put out my hand and he handed
me his hoe. That ended the scuffle. Why an armed soldier
had to try and forcefully take a tool away from a farmer is
totally beyond my comprehension. I felt totally ashamed of
the officer’s action.
The Palestinian farmer turned to me and said in Hebrew,
“Don’t be afraid. It’s not a weapon.”
“I’m not afraid. Of course it’s not a weapon. Here, tfadal....”
With that I returned his hoe.
I was enraged and really wanted to get a picture of the
officer who had done this, but by this time they were in their
car, turning around so fast that we all had to jump out of the
way, and were off in a cloud of dust. Khalas (enough) I
thought. Now can we get to work? We then proceeded to
start digging holes.
It was then that the busload of Americans arrived, led by
Rabbi Yehiel Grenimann and Rabbi Arik Ascherman, bearing
olive tree saplings, cameras, and bottles of water and
looking like an expedition for Tu Bishvat. They soon
enthusiastically joined us, though there were hardly enough
tools to go around. Most of the digging was done by the
Palestinians and the Israeli volunteers, but the Americans,
eager to help, gave it a good go anyway and made a
tremendous effort with the hoes and pixckaxes. Digging was
no easy matter since the earth was very hard and rocky. I
was vividly reminded of digging 8000 holes in the rocky soil
of the Galilee 26 years ago when we planted apple and pear
trees on the kibbutz.
Within an hour or so all 100 trees were in the ground and
everyone was happy. This was all they dared start with, lest
the settlers pull them out. There was a lot of picture taking,
a lot of laughter and mentioning of the name “Obama” in
halting English, and I imagine many of the people took home
photos of themselves posing with the kafiyyeh-clad
Palestinians. As we turned to go the two vehicles entered
the field again. It was all I could do to keep from staying
behind to watch, and I kept turning around and looking back
in suspicion, afraid that they would start uprooting the trees
right then and there. I wondered if they would even let the
farmers in with a tank of water to irrigate the new trees until
the next rain fell.
We left the field together with them and walked over to a
nearby field where new faucets for a modern irrigation
system were contained inside a new, locked wire enclosure.
These trees had barrels around them and, as was explained
to the American group by Rabbi Ascherman, they had been
planted by settlers who claimed that the land belonged to
them. Probably they had no certificate of ownership. The
Israeli courts often demanded that the Palestinian farmers
present aerial photographs of their land. Now where are
they supposed to get money to send up a plane and provide
that?
Each time I come back from the WB the situation
overwhelms me: There is so much going on there
and the handful of Israelis that are helping are
making such a small dent in it. Why are we
behaving like this??? It is shameful to Israel, to
Judaism, and to Zionism.
overwhelms me: There is so much going on there
and the handful of Israelis that are helping are
making such a small dent in it. Why are we
behaving like this??? It is shameful to Israel, to
Judaism, and to Zionism.
We boarded the bus together with the Americans, and Zachariah, the Palestinian liaison for RHR who
coordinates the work done in the fields throughout the villages in the West Bank explained his work with
the organization. Rabbi Ascherman, explained to the Americans about the Israeli volunteers and the
opposition, settler violence, and other difficulties they had to contend with. Despite the fact that we had
done very little that day, we were applauded as we said goodbye and got off the bus at Tapuach Junction.
I wondered how long the trees we planted would remain there. I try not to think of people coming along
and uprooting the lovely saplings even before the farmers manage to get a water tank through the barrier
and water them. This seems to be the gist of the activity of planting: plant, settlers uproot the trees, go
back and plant again.
My mind continues to dwell on the scuffle that broke out at the beginning of the day. Again I reflect on
just how helpless the Palestinians are. When a farmer is confronted by an armed soldier who seems to
be doing nothing to prevent his land from being usurped by settlers, but wants to take away his tool as
well, I ask myself a lot of questions: What did these people do to deserve being harrassed? Who taught
our officers that this mode of behavior is acceptable? Is this what leadership in the army entails? If this is
what officers do, what of the common soldiers? What would have happened had we not been there?
And, of course, how long will those trees be allowed to remain there?
Despite the short day and the small project, I now realize that everyone who was there was extremely
important: it was important that both for the Palestinians and for the Americans see that the Israelis were
there. The group will hopefully go home knowing that there are Israelis who care and who are taking
action to help, and tell others, as well as raise money for Rabbis for Human Rights. I explained to
several of the Americans that I am an ardent Zionist, but was opposed to what we were doing in the West
Bank: that it was not ours and we should not be there. I know it is important that the Americans felt that
by being there they had also helped in their own way and done something.
Each time I come back from the WB the situation overwhelms me: There is so much going on there and
the handful of Israelis that are helping are making such a small dent in it. Why are we behaving like
this??? It is shameful to Israel, to Judaism, and to Zionism. How many scuffles and incidents like the
one that occurred happen every day, that are not witnessed by volunteers, by members of Machsom
Watch or other peace organizations? How many times are people who have done nothing wrong
harassed, or even hurt or killed?
I really feel quite powerless. All I can do is go back next week.
The roadblock. I'm still
trying to fathom why it was
put there.
trying to fathom why it was
put there.
The local security car and the army
come to check things out. Have a nice
day, indeed...
come to check things out. Have a nice
day, indeed...
American supporters of
RHR planting olive trees
in the West Bank on a
learning tour.
RHR planting olive trees
in the West Bank on a
learning tour.
Left and below: The lovely olive tree
saplings. I wonder how long they will
remain there?
saplings. I wonder how long they will
remain there?
| More on the Olive Harvest and Plantings in the West Bank |