Where's My Peace Pipe?

I got a call from the South Hebron Committee of the left-wing Taayush group to join them on Saturday for tree planting in one of the Palestinian villages. I made a last minute decision Saturday morning. It was either do laundry, listen to Hubby and Children complain about me not washing the floors or cleaning the bathroom. I got dressed in a hurry. These groups could recruit hundreds of disgruntled wives for a Saturday activity, if they only knew how to target them. Well they sure got me. Don't care if I'm the most right-wing of the lot. I really don't.

I got into the van - with the rest of the young crowd and off we went. We were stopped at the checkpoint. With a Palestinian driver, I expect that they check him frequently. The military police asked us all for ID. This young Israeli, one of the group's organizers, handed them his ID. His Bright Orange ID cover. For those who don't know - Palestinians from the West Bank have an ID cover that is Bright Orange. Crayola Orange. The Palestinians from Gaza hold Green ID covers. Jews, no matter whether they live in the West Bank or not, hold the most coveted blue ID covers. So they checked out this crazy guy with the Israeli Jewish name, with his West Jerusalem address, with his Orange ID card. He told me he went to the Ministry of Interior and asked for one, to confuse the authorities which he did very well indeed today. And to protest the racism of the Palestinians having to have different ID colors, rather than just one color for us all. (This gelled well with my One State Wish but I was surprised that someone who wanted a separate state for his Palestinian brothers, would get upset at them having a different ID card - but I was pleased nonetheless).

We went past the village we were at last week to be carted off by mule-drawn wagons to a remote hill near a remote outpost inhabited by Jews. Our group had bought 500 olive trees for them, as these people are so poor - without electricity, etc. - agriculture is their only means for making a living. We escorted them to the Wadi (valley) while entire families carried the olive tree saplings to the field that was plowed last week. The men swung their spades wildly and planted those trees so fast. I was wondering why they were in such a rush to plant 500 trees in 5 minutes, until I saw them - the Jewish people from the outpost were watching all this from behind their fence and 3 of them came rushing down with their shotguns. I thought This is surely IT. Will I make it home tonight? And if we weren't there, either the Palestinians would have not planted, or there would have been a big mess.

Like a crazy, possessed woman I walked towards the gun toters, together with the Israeli Jew with the Orange ID card. They were hoppin' mad and began to take pictures of the Orange ID man and me. Even that it was Shabbat and they normally would not be using their cameras, they did anyway. I smiled, as always, for the camera. Orange guy asked them not to shoot, and they actually listened to him. They yelled at us to go back to Goa, the paradise in India that most secular Israeli Jews end up at after army service. They yelled that these Palestinians not only want Their piece of land, but Tel Aviv too. They yelled at us that these Palestinians planters actually hate us more than they hate them.

"Jews have to be strong or they'll eat us alive"

"This is a closed military zone, you cannot be here."

With that Mr. Photographer called the police.

The older man in our group, came over and even though he is Jewish, yelled at the settlers in Arabic, so now they weren't sure who HE was. He walked passed the men towards another hill and one of the gun-toters followed him. He didn't say a word to anyone. He then unzipped and began to pee (while we watched and had a fucking good laugh) and the gun-toter was obviously startled and must have felt like a total moron.

The rest of the people from the Outpost filtered down, women and children in their nice dresses in honor of the Sabbath. One of the teenage girls began uprooting the olive trees that were just planted before we stopped her. Meanwhile the Palestinian crowd was on one side of the valley (or Wadi) and the Jewish crowd was on another.

It looked like war.

It was so fucking scary.

You see - the Israelis in our group also made the settlers mad as bulls telling them they don't belong there, that this land wasn't theirs - which isn't the way I see it - because I see the land in a Messianic fashion - everyone getting on and living with each other. Telling people who love the land that it is not theirs adds to their anger.

I went to the Photographer and said to him - Why can't you just SHARE the land together? Did you ever experience Palestinian hospitality in their villages?

He was surprised that I didn't ask him to leave his caravan, as the others did. He walked with me and started to talk - "I have good relationships with 2 villages and I still go visit with them. But not with THIS one! (I was wondering what village he was talking about because THIS one was an assortment of people from different places coming to plant). They have terrorists among them. I have kids who live in another settlement and they throw stones at Palestinians but you can't control your children sometimes". Oh boy. Don't I know that one. Does this man read my blog?

He continued - If you want to see Jewish hospitality, I'll invite you to my house.

Well, gee, thanks for the invite! And as I was listening to this guy I saw the crowd from the opposite sides - Palestinians and Jews - come within inches of each other. Face to face.

At that moment, I felt the opportunity of a lifetime awaited me. Here was my chance to be the big chief peacemaker.

I actually wondered why I hadn't brought the biggest fucking joint in the world for them to share with each other.

I also wished I had MY "troops" with me. The real Middle-East Peace Corp. Eliyahu. Dhyon. Ibrahim. Sheikh Bukhari. My entire Interfaith group. But no. I was so alone, except for the Italian peace worker who nodded his head at my take of the whole thing. Dhyon would have asked everyone to join hands and make a circle. Ibrahim would have brought giant pots of food to share. Eliyahu and Sheikh Bukhari would have had a joint prayer session for peace. Our interfaith group would have shared a common religious theme. All this in the wadi. Beating our swords into plowshares. And who knows what this place would have looked like afterwards.

But instead of my vision of everyone dancing together - the army came and disbursed the crowd which went their own way.