On the last morning of the tour,  I joined fellow travelers for breakfast. Although  well rested, I was reluctant to engage in yet another lively political discussion around the table.   Instead I took refuge in my own meditations on the deep, often untapped, reservoirs of innovative possibility in the spirits of  wounded people everywhere.  I felt a wave of compassion for all of us in our attempts to find just, healing and workable strategies for Arabs and Israelis to coexist in peace.

Wadi Fuqin

After checking out of the hotel, our bus driver took us to Wadi Fuqin for our last section of the walk, an easy stroll on level ground.  We began at the heel of  yet another Israeli settlement,  pushing up in a mushroom ring of construction around East Jerusalem and Bethlehem, making it virtually impossible to distinguish the original location of the green line.  Instead we could see long stretches of concrete wall gerrymandering through the West Bank in an attempt to protect residents of the settlements.  I had an appalling flash as I looked out at stacks  of identical concrete apartment buildings spreading out on hilltops in the MiddleEast version of urban sprawl.  I was haunted by an image of industrious Israeli’s hard at work  constructing modern and comfortably provisioned ghettoes for Jews.  I shuttered at the thought that to “my tribe,” freedom meant living inside walled enclosures, cut off from easy access to the natural landscapes that resonate so deeply in my own Jewish soul.  In our attempts to secure Jewish lives, are we ultimately constructing our own prisons?

I shook off these unsettling thoughts as we began our stroll through what can only be defined as a  solid waste dump, burgeoning illegally  below the outskirts of the settlement.  At this point, I must note  that  both sides of this conflict, the very Israelis and Arabs who claim such abiding love for the land  have remarkably similar inclinations to trash it, with both sides showing blatant disregard for the vast piles of solid waste and garbage accumulating at the perimeters of settlements and villages alike.  Does this spark ideas for cooperative possibilities….?

Eventually we left the dump site behind and began a leisurely walk through a beautiful and fertile valley  being carefully cultivated by nearby West Bank residents. We passed a farmer harvesting grape leaves to allow more sun to shine on  ripening clusters underneath.  I imagined he carried these home to the women in the household to be cooked into delicacies, but I don’t know for sure.   And we passed an occasional donkey tethered in an olive grove, drowsing lazily before being pressed into service, aged stone pools still used to accumulate spring water for irrigation purposes, patches of small but flourishing commercial gardens sustained by irrigation,  and from time to time clusters of beehives in white boxes dotting the hillside.

The destination for this hike was the family agricultural lands of Attef, a local Wadi Fuqin resident and, by profession, a school teacher.  Attef is an active member of  the area’s land use preservation project initiated by Friends of the Earth ME.  According to their website, “The village of Wadi Fuqin is an outstanding, well preserved model of a traditional agricultural way of life, developed over 10,000 years ago. The community has harnessed the water flowing from the valley’s eleven springs to nourish their fields. Kilometers of aqueducts direct the spring water to storage pools and onwards to agricultural plots. Currently, the agricultural way of life and natural landscape is endangered by massive urban development surrounding the village.”

The rapid growth of  settlements in the Judean HIlls above the Wadi has interfered with the reliably flowing natural springs and put the local aquifer at risk.  In recent years,  worries about the water supply have grown more common among farmers and environmentalists, and , and  in order to survive, farmers are finding it necessary to supplement traditional methods of sustainable agriculture with more high tech irrigation methods.

I was trailing behind a bit, and by the time I caught up, the  group was seated in a semi-circle along a low rock wall in  the shade of a huge mulberry (?) tree.  From this vantage point we looked back over the family’s beautifully manicured fields.  The conversation with Attef touched on the challenges facing farmers intent on preserving their living heritage.   They get some support and assistance from their neighbors in the Israeli community of Tzur Hadassah (Uri’s home), which is connected to Wadi Fuqin by a foot path, one of the few places where the barrier has yet to be constructed.  Contact between these communities provide farmers with additional markets for their produce which is considered (but not yet certified) organic.  Naturally, questions came up about building relationships with the nearby religious settlements expanding around them.  Here again, the existence of the wall has made this nearly impossible, although Attef mentioned that before the wall was completed, kids from the settlement made their way down into the valley from time to time.  Also, there was some conversation about an informal summer program that brought Israeli and Arab kids together although attitudes change very slowly in this part of the world.  In response to the direct question given the absence of contact,  how do young people in each community view the “other?”  Sadly Attef  responded simply, “They believe whatever their parents believe.”

Before we hiked back to the bus, we each plucked a handful of delicious berries for the return trip.  Apparently it is customary in traditional communities to plant edible trees and shrubs by the roadside so that passersby might stop and refresh themselves along their journey.  (A lovely tradition in my view….)

Muslim Community of Batir

Another stop before our lunch was the community of Batir, another Muslim village situated along the green line.  Along the way Gershon tried to orient us to the multiple road systems that cripple freedom of movement in the West Bank.  At this point, a frequently documented reality is that modern Israeli bypass roads are intended to get settlers in and out of their communities efficiently.  However, secondary roads in Palestinian neighborhoods often dead-end at the bypass roads forcing Palestinian drivers and pedestrians on to roads funneling into checkpoints where access into Israel as well as into parts of the “seam zone” is limited on to those with the proper permits, and occasionally are arbitrarily closed (more on the checkpoints, later…)

Arriving in Battir, we were welcomed by a line of community leaders serving in various positions on the council governing the local community development center.  We were ushered into a conference room, comfortably seated and served another round of strong coffee.  By this time, I was growing familiar with this ritual and coming to appreciate the break it provided for all of us to gather our thoughts, listen with respect and compose our questions.  At least two of the gentlemen who spoke with us were lifelong residents of Batir, with memories reaching back to childhoods during the partition of Israel in 1948.   Realizing the historical account was becoming a bit too abstract, they decided to walk us, first, to an aerial photo map of their village and then to an overlook to give us a more experiential perspective.  We strolled through the village to a sign that read the Hassan Mustafa Cultural Center, a complex of historical homesites known as the “seven widows quarters” under restoration, which were perched on the side of a steep hillside overlooking the wadi and the railroad tracks that snaked in a wide loop through the valley.   The historic site had been razed in a maneuver by Israeli  forces to eliminate a potential strategic threat to trains traveling through the valley.   We looked out over an expansive vista, offering a breathtaking view of the pastoral lifestyle that sustained this  area for centuries.   Several mountain springs  fed aqueducts dating back to roman turkish times that routed irrigation waters by virtue of gravity down a system of terraces, at higher levels planted with more water intensive vegetable crops and continuing down into more drought resistant groves of olives.  Our walk through town included a visit to one of these springs as it poured into stone cisterns and from there to feed family farms on a complicated rotational basis.  Daily the cisterns were emptied,  refilled and emptied again as they had for generations.

Here, we listened to another variation on what was becoming an all too familiar story, repeated in West Bank villages we visited.  The separation barrier was being constructed along a wide corridor cutting into the Palestinian side of the railroad, destroying agricultural land to make way for construction and access roads and cutting farmers off from sections of their cultivated land.   Residents were unanimously opposed, expressing outrage that if a separation barrier was so critical to Israeli security why not construct it on the Israeli side of the railroad tracks?  The rationale repetitiously offered is to guarantee security, this time in the form of safe passage of trains through the region.  We were later told that this particular section of tracks was rarely used any more.  From the outlook we could see surveillance cameras mounted on radio towers strung across the opposite hillside, built to scan the tracks and the separation barrier continuously.

From there we returned to the bus for an unexpected detour.  Our driver Hauni was asked to negotiate  a hair-raising drive down a twisting and much too narrow dirt road to a garden oasis tucked away along another hillside.   Without hesitation, he safely delivered us to an exquisitely manicured garden, playground and sport field, still under construction by and for families in the village (with assistance from the United Nations Development Program of Assistance for the Palestinian People, the Italian government and matched with funds from residents who worked in Israel for years during less volatile times).   This stop also included a respite stop to the Batir Resort, an unlikely and secluded complex of gardens, swimming pools (one for boys and men, another indoor pool for women and girls) and refreshment stand with a generously stocked ice cream cooler, an amenity we enjoyed with great delight.   As we gathered one last time with our hosts under the awning of the refreshment stand, for a final round of sweet tea before they sent us off, I was thinking about how eager our hosts were for us to appreciate this diversionary jewel.  I realized that often,  throughout this journey, I  was unexpectedly touched by evidence of a deep longing for “normalcy.”    Regardless of which side of the conflict we were considering, I never failed to note indications (whether on a grand or small scale) that reflect our abiding need to escape the relentless stresses of continuous peril.

As we returned to the bus for the final leg of this incredible day, I realized I was nearing the saturation point and we still had three speakers waiting for us at our  dinner location in Beit Sahour at the Tent (in the Bethlehem area).  I closed my eyes and drifted off for a brief “cat nap” which was barely enough.  On arrival at our accommodations I shlepped my small suitcase up to my room, unloaded as quickly as I could, splashed some water on my face and was still late returning to the bus for the short trip to the restaurant.

I really regret feeling so drained because these three speakers had some of the most significant information to share.   As we  went around the dinner table introducing ourselves, I realized  at least two of these three speakers were quite familiar to me.  Seven years ago, while helping  coordinate the Perspectives on Peacemaking Conference in Boulder in 2002l, I  first encountered these individuals (or their organizations) and have been helping to introduce their efforts to Americans ever since.  Our honored guests for the evening included Sami Awad of the Holy Land Trust, Zoughbi Zoughbi of Wi’am Palestinian Center for Conflict Resolution and George Rishmawi of Siraj, Center for Holy Land Studies.  All three of these gentlemen have dedicated their lives and  careers to nonviolent and self-sustaining initiatives on behalf of the preservation and rehabilitation of  Palestinian people.

(Time out for a brief editorial comment.  You might want to ask yourselves these critically important questions.  Why don’t these names appear  in the headlines?  Why are their organizational initiatives, which have touched and transformed the lives of thousands,  eclipsed by  periodic and utterly senseless acts of  violence committed by desperate and hopeless individuals?    Whose interests are served by continuing to characterize Palestinians as terrorists, rendering Palestinian peace activists as  exceptions, and extremists as the rule?   I wonder….)

Picking up the thread of this story, Zoughbi Zoughbi began the evening with  an overview of the Wi’am Palestinian Conflict Resolution Center , which remains for me a model of  community building using a legacy drawn from indigenous cultural heritage.

Wi’am literally translates  “cordial relationships” in Arabic.  According to Zoughbi, the goal of the center is “to help resolve disputes within the Palestinian community by complementing the traditional Arab form of mediation and reconciliation, called Sulha, with Western models of conflict resolution.”  Zoughbi reports that frequently mediators are called upon to respond to disputes arising as a  consequence of  worsening conditions imposed by the broader impasse with Israel.    Growing economic deprivation, severe restrictions to movement, arbitrary border closures, etc. all contribute to heightened feelings of frustration and despair. Wi’am mediators spend whatever time is required to bring conflicting parties together and to facilitate a process that enables  participants to address wrong-doing and “save face.” In this way, Wi’am is making an important contribution to strengthening  individual’s faith in nonviolence as a means  to achieve “a simple portion of integrity”  and “to lessening susceptibility to the appeals of extremists.”

Zoughbi tells us that, today, Wi’am activities have been expanded to include  violence prevention measures, such as leadership development opportunities for youth, conflict resolution training, trauma recovery and counseling programs, and creative offerings to help “normalize” the lives of children and mitigate the negative pressures of living under occupation.

Our next presenter, Sami Awad, is a regular visitor to Colorado  and his life and work may already be familiar to many regional readers.  Mr. Awad began by recounting the story behind the Holy Land Trust and spoke with deep  tenderness and reverence for the  influential people who  shaped his commitment to Palestinian non-violent resistance.  Among the most inspirational was his friend and elder, Dr. Mubarak Awad, who established The Palestinian Center for the Study of Nonviolence (PCSN) in East Jerusalem in 1984.  Under Awad’s stewardship, PCSN led the campaign to educate communities in nonviolent solutions to conflict and to engage in acts of civil disobedience against Israeli occupation of Palestinian territories, for example planting olive  trees on disputed West Bank lands under threat of confiscation.  According to the background provided on the Holy Land Trust website, “PCSN also published and translated many writings on nonviolence into Arabic, notably those of the Muslim Pathan colleague of Gandhi’s, Abdul Ghaffar Khan.”  With minimal bitterness, Sami Awad related  how Mubarak Awad was arrested and deported by the Israeli government following  the outbreak of the first Intifadah in 1988, despite opposition from US authorities.  In 1998, though Mubarak was still barred from returning to Israel , the PCSN Board and  Sami Awad, a recent graduate of American University in International Peace and Conflict Resolution, agreed to move the PCSN office from Jerusalem to Bethlehem.  There, he combined PCSN  initiatives with the “Journey of the Magi” agenda to trace the path of the “Wise Men”  marking he two-thousandth anniversary of Christ’s birth and to build friendships among the peoples of the Middle East, both Christians and Muslims.  (For more information on the JOM experience and stories of the trip see  http://www.magijourney.com) From then on, the Holy Land Trust has played an instrumental role in a myriad of programs detailed in the HLT brochure, which he distributed to all of us, and on  the website – www.holylandtrust.org.

I was deeply touched by Sami Awad’s eloquence and his vision of a Holy Land governed by principles of non-violence, and functioning as an international center for peace and justice for all citizens.  Somehow, through the haze of my fatigue, I sensed his unwavering  commitment to this vision, without projecting an air of false optimism or naive idealism.  Fully appreciating the difficulty of this undertaking, Awad has helped  formulate non-violence training programs, Holy Land travel and encounter programs, something called MIPC (Making the Impossible Possible Campaign) which begins with a series of Nonlinear Leadership Development programs, and the PNN, a Palestinian News Network.

Our last speaker of the evening was George Rishmawi, a Palestinian entrepreneur and director of the NGO, Siraj, Center for Holy Land Studies.  His refreshing vision to regional peacemaking was sketched out in terms of  celebration and strength.  Siraj promotes opportunities for linking internationals and the Palestinian people together through multi-dimensional programs, including  travel and encounter programs, family home stays, interfaith and ecumenical dialogue, and culture and youth exchange programs.  Although by this point I was fading fast, drifting in and out of the conversation and sweetly anticipating sleep, Rishmawi’s enthusiasm kindled my nearly extinguished imagination.  He spoke about the NGO’s development of creative ideas with   “fee-for-service” potential, allowing Siraj to become more and more self-sustaining over time. Even as  weariness from today’s  vigorous exercise threatened to overtake me and I  had to struggle to keep my face from dropping into my humus, I was briefly revived by  the evocative images of  experiential pilot projects, including the Peace Cycle (a regional bicycle tour)  and Abraham’s Walk, and plans to eventually expand these kinds of initiatives.

Such programmatic responses, even in the face of   worsening global economic conditions confronting all NGO’s the world over, spoke volumes to me about  the  remarkable capacity for innovation and resilience of our species.  Following  these overviews,  speakers invited us to raise questions and to join them in dialogue and conversation. I wish I could say I remained fully engaged in the great questions raised by my colleagues and responses offered ….

Following our lunch with the Barta’a Mayors we made our way by bus (thankfully, our hiking for the day was complete) to scheduled meetings in two areas near Modi’in.

First, we were invited to the secular settlement of Beit Arieh (Aryeh), where Uri’s co-worker Doni Binyamini and his wife, Leah, agreed to talk with us.  We were cautioned not to engage these folks in a confrontational manner, but rather to listen respectfully, to what they had to say.  Originally, we had been slated to visit an ultra-orthodox settlement, however it was the Jewish holiday of Shavuot and so we were not permitted to drive into the religious settlement.  Frankly, I’m just as glad.  I had little interest in meeting “extremists” on either side of the conflict.  Rather, I was curious about the perspectives and feelings of the so-called “secular” settlers.  I felt very conflicted as we met this very gracious couple, who took us to several locations on the settlement including several anthropological ruins from temple times, including  a “mikveh,” and two “production” areas where ancient residents processed wine and olive oil.   Quite proud of these antiquities, residents argued that these were compelling evidence that the land “belonged” to the Jews (although currently the settlement is placed well within the Green Line).

Following this visit, we traveled south to Bil’in and were welcomed into the home of one of the Palestinian members of the Popular Committee Against the Separation Barrier.    Bil’in is a small Palestinian community located 12 kilometers (7 mi) west of the city of Ramallah in the central West Bank.   Bil’in is adjacent to the separation barrier and in the shadow of the Israeli religious settlement of Modi’in Illit.  After a brief introduction, the young activist and his colleagues gave us a preview of  a video they produced, documenting the  demonstrations  taking place every Friday at the separation barrier which cuts off the village from the majority of its farming lands.    Bil’in residents are adamantly opposed to the location of the barrier inside the Green Line and committed to moving it back to be contiguous with the 1967 border.   As we were seated in the living room of this young man’s home and served small cups of strong Arabic coffee, our host narrated portions of the video we were watching and explained the goals of the Popular Committee.  The organization has been active for several years, and has retained a  commitment to non-violence, although serious clashes between protesters and Israeli forces erupt from time time often at the provocation of groups such as  Anarchists Against the Wall and hot tempered reactions of young Israeli soldiers.   Clearly, the Israeli soldiers have the advantage and  use tear gas  and rubber bullets to “push” back demonstrators  attempting to dismantle parts of the existing barrier or obstruct construction of new sections.  Palestinian demonstrators are regularly joined by Israeli peace activists and internationals in solidarity with the notion that, if a Wall exists at all, it MUST be re-located to the actual Green Line.

Noteworthy in this situation are two rulings by the Israeli Supreme Court.  First, in September 2007, the Israeli Supreme Court ordered the government to redraw the path of the wall because the current route was deemed “highly prejudicial” to the villagers of Bil’in.  “We were not convinced that it is necessary for security-military reasons to retain the current route that passes on Bilin’s lands,” an opinion written by Chief Justice Dorit Beinish.  Subsequently, the Israeli Supreme Court voted to legalize the Israeli settlement of Mattiyahu East which is part of the Modi’in Illit’s expansion.   These strangely conflicting rulings, still unresolved after nearly two years, reflect a deeply schizophrenic Israeli psyche which only serves to intensify frustration and hopelessness.

All this notwithstanding, among my favorite parts of the afternoon was a brief introduction to  one of the women of Bil’in, who was active in the village’s embroidery cooperative.  The co-op was set up as a way for women to help contribute to the economic development of this region of the West Bank, currently suffering extremely high rates of unemployment.   The women sew and embroider items like coin purses and shoulder bags, often re-purposing traditional  dresses, and applying embroidery designs typical of traditional Palestinian clothing.    We   only had a few moments to “shop” and I found myself frustrated by rushing through these beautiful handicrafts.  In retrospect, I wish we could have learned more about this enterprise, perhaps seeing some of the artists at work, getting some background on the decorative designs and their significance and visiting with the women of Bil’in.

Last night I was  grateful for  my inability to access the internet.  Although the heart was willing to post,  the body was aching for a solid night of  sleep!  I woke up this second morning eager to re-engage.  Like day one, Day 2 of Walk the Green line had a full line up of encounters starting immediately after another generous buffet breakfast!

Constructed Wetlands of Um al Rehan

Our very first meeting was among my favorite of the trip.  On the way to the starting  point for our rigorous hike, we stopped  in the rural West Bank village of  Um al Rehan, the site of a  constructed wetlands project undertaken with IPCRI’s assistance.   A number of  Palestinian project coordinators along with Israeli water engineer, Arnon Goren, were on hand to talk with us about the specifics of the project.  According to the entry on IPCRI web-site
“Um al-Rehan is similar to other villages in the West Bank in that it lacks adequate sewage treatment.  The wastewater from the homes in this village flows, untreated, to a cesspit where it percolates into the ground contaminating the underlying Mountain Aquifer.  For this village, and for many others, sewage treatment would best be achieved by a low-cost, simple, natural solution.  This pilot project is a septic tank/constructed wetland system to treat wastewater from five homes in the village to achieve this goal.  Funds for the pilot project were made by the Government of New Zealand and by private donation.”

What was most exciting for me about this project was that it took advantage of  “a natural – green – alternative to conventional sewage treatment.”  The passive system relies on gravity instead of electric pumps, with treatment being performed by biological (not chemical) means.  The treated water is then  made available  for irrigation in lieu of  potable water. Initially community members expressed some concern to the use of treated sewage water, however, the septic tank/wetland system represented a significant improvement to the cesspit  formerly used in Um al-Rehan that was contaminating the existing water supply.

Five homes were selected for the pilot, and beginning in January 2008 their septic tanks were constructed with the help of Um al-Rehan residents.  Currently, wastewater is collected in the plumbing system of each home, conveyed by gravity to a septic tank and the routed to a shared wetland for additional treatment before it is discharged as irrigation water.

“The Ecological Wastewater Treatment for Rural Communities in the West Bank Project is a true example of Palestinian/Israeli cooperation for the common goals of environmental protection, public health and peace between peoples.”   Photographs can be viewed at http://wetland.maabarot.org.il/Um-A-Reichan/album/index.html .

Like the Jenin Enterprise zone, the constructed wetlands exemplified another Israeli/Palestinian collaborative effort, although on a much smaller scale.  And much to the unexpected delight of project participants, the newly available  water for agricultural use  inspired a young entrepreneur from the village to start a small nursery business.  All of this was taking place in the face of official disputes over construction permits and the legality of the constructed wetlands.  However, because the need is so great for treated water, Israeli authorities in the area have thus far been wiling to “look the other way” as the project unfolds.

Rehan Nature Reserve

Shortly, we were back on the bus and moving on to the  starting point of  our 10 kilometer hike along the steep and narrow paths along a canyon forming a deep “wadi” (or valley) in Rehan Nature Reserve.   Slowly, we navigated through thorny thickets winding eastward toward the West Bank village of Barta-a.  For this part of the hike, guide Uri Ramon was joined by Mohammad Rabah Aghbaria, a tourism promoter  in the West Bank Wadi Ara region.   Along the way, both  guides pointed out all manner of flora, sprouting seriously spiky leaves on rugged stems,  (a defensive survival strategy to protect against grazing animals).  They explained the  natural and delicate relationship  between this flora and the grazing habits of local wild and domestic species in predominantly undeveloped regions of the West Bank.  Disruption of this balance has created a threat to a variety of native species in this area.

As we carefully  made are way through the brambles flourishing along the hillsides and canyon walls, Mohammad pointed out  remnants of sabra fence lines and rock terraces, indicative of former settlements by community members  who brought herds to graze in outlying olive and almond groves.  Near the final descent into Barta-a, we picked our way carefully down patches of steep chalky rock, drawn forth by enchanting calls to prayer echoing off  canyon walls as we approached the Muslim village.

Tired and hungry, I was eagerly anticipating lunch.  But first we made a fascinating detour to the home of  a  local resident, who gave us an impromptu orientation to  traditional methods for  transforming stacks of  collected wood   into charcoal for local cooking ovens.  Before I traipsed into the  nearby restaurant where our lunch was being prepared over an open barbecue grill, I even got a quick peek into an outdoor oven, where a local woman was baking pita bread, using the traditional method of burying the loaves in a mound of charcoal inside the closed oven.

The Mayors of Barta’a

As we were enjoying up meal Mohammad introduced us to the two mayors of the divided community of Barta’a.  Unfortunately my recorder was not operating properly so I had to rely on my memory and borrowed notes to relate this story which was translated to us from the Arabic.  Not totally trusting my memory, I have borrowed some of the explanation from the website http://www.un.org/unrwa/.  Even with the help of the web explanation I find this a difficult “story” to follow.

The small community of Barta-a is located in what has come to be known as the “seam zone,” which refers to a kind of “no man’s land” languishing  between the actual green line, the original boundary established by the 1949  armistice agreement separating  the partition of Israel and neighboring  Jordan, and the rapidly expanding separation barrier which currently encroaches into the West Bank beyond the green line. Individuals living in these zones are not Israeli citizens and are literally trapped, unable to pass the green line into Israel (without difficult to obtain work permits) and physically constrained by the fence from getting to other West Bank villages.

Originally  the green line split Barta’a in two. Since 1948, Barta’a Sharqiya (allocated to Jordan) was  divided from Barta’a Gharbiya on the Israeli side although there remained strong social, economic and familial ties. In 1967  when Israel gained control of  the West bank, the town was briefly reunited.  However with the construction and threatened expansion of the Separation Barrier the imposed and arbitrary division of this town persists.

During lunch, the two mayors, one governing  Palestinian Barta’a Sharqiya and the other governing  Israeli  Barta’a Gharbiya, related their personal stories.  Although cousins, they grew up divided by harsh political reality – Riad Kabha was raised as an Israeli citizen; his cousinas a Jordanian,  currently designated as a “longterm resident” in the Palestinian Territories.

Due to recorder malfunction, I have asked permission from fellow “walker”  Michael Ramberg, a Reconstructionist Rabbinic student studying in Jerusalem,  to lift his written account of one anecdote that Riad Kabha related to us.  Thank you Michael.  “Riad Kabha grew up on the Israeli side and recalled that one day a Jordanian soldier called him over and asked Riad and his brother if they had raised the Israeli flag at their school’s celebration of Israel’s independence day.  Riad for some reason thought the soldier wanted him to say yes, so even though he hadn’t raised the flag, he said he had and the soldier promptly gave him a beating and told him never to do it again.  A little later an Israeli soldier caught Riad and gave him another beating and told him to forget whatever the Jordanian soldier had told him.”

I can’t think of a better anecdote to illustrate the  chaotic impact of arbitrarily imposed political boundarie on the lives of ordinary people, creating rifts in families bound  together over generations by  kinship and marriage.     Yet despite potentially dangerous consequences for violations to enforced separation,  both mayors confessed that villagers often arranged  clandestine reunions with families and friends, carried out under cover of darkness.

After lunch we loaded back on the bus and traveled to a drop off point to resume our hike along the green line.  This section of the hike brought us into much closer proximity to the roads and fields flanked with 8 feet of wire fencing topped with razor wire.  We were told that surveillance cameras scan the length of the fence and a low level electrical charge, not dangerous to the touch, runs through the wire as a detection measure. If the fence is cut at any point the army can identify the precise location of the breech and send jeeps to that point along a dirt access road.  The amount of land required to erect  the fence stretching many hundreds of kilometers from end to end requires at least fifteen feet of clearance on either side for the access road and secure distance from perceived threats in Arab communities.  In addition to views of the boundary we again got views of areas where Israeli cultivation runs side by side currently tended and occasionally abandoned olive fields,  where cow pastures and spacious wheat fields meet patches of olive terraces and grazing grounds.
Posted on red signs at intervals along the fence:

MORTAL DANGER – MILITARY ZONE

Any person who passes or damages the fence ENDANGERS HIS LIFE.
As we came to an intersection of the trail and a village road we strolled by a natural fence line being newly established by a farmer who planted a row of stubby sabra cuttings at intervals along the edge of his small square of wheat grass (…an interesting alternative to razor wire) .

Dinner with Mosi Raz

When we reached the road we climbed back on the bus for the final leg of the journey to our hotel in Nazareth, a bit of freshening up, and dinner at the hotel with guest speaker Mosi Raz, Director of All Peace Radio and former Knesset member from Meretz.  When we arrived downstairs for dinner in the dining room we were in for a totally unexpected surprise.  Along with our group, the hotel was hosting over a hundred Indonesian pilgrims who were just finishing up their meal.  We were able to enjoy a bit of their after dinner entertainment where groups of the ladies went up to the front of the room for songs of praise and line dancing with guitar accompaniment.  I’ve never been to anyplace outside of  the Holy Land where such passionate displays of diversity are so commonplace.

We were treated to yet another generous mixed grill meal where of course I indulged way too much on savory middle eastern dishes including a table spread with seven or eight different kinds of salads and vegetable dishes, humus and olives, stacks of pita bread, all of which was followed up by skewers of lamb and chicken.  (Yes, friends, the diet starts tomorrow….)

Anyway, after several busloads of our Indonesian friends departed, we were able to hear from Mosi who provided an oddly optimistic reflection on the newly formed conservative government of Israel led by Netanyahu.  At that point, I was far too exhausted to take extensive notes but I did manage to record his remarks and intend to listen again.  The basis for this optimism strangely enough is that the reality of the Ohlmert government was far more disastrous than the reality of the previous Netanyahu regime.  He reminded us that when Bibi was Prime minister in the 90’s, despite his rhetoric against the Oslo Accords, he was the one who actually negotiated with Yasser Arafat, withdrew from Hebron, and signed the Hebron protocol that Israel would withdraw from all of the West Bank except military locations and settlements (which at that time were much smaller).  At any rate, Mosi notes that although the devil’s in the details, as important as who leads the government is who leads the opposition and in this case, Kadima (more liberal in both word and deed  than the labor party) is the principle opposition.   Although I can’t take this discussion too much further without re-listening, what struck me most was there was not the air of gloom and doom surrounding political discussions that I fully anticipated.  Many progressive Israelis expressed a sense of “relief” that this would be a time of straighter talk from the government.  Furthermore,  there was nearly universal consensus among progressives that current legislation being introduced in the Knesset either the  law mandating a “loyalty oath” or banning celebration of the Nahkba stand a slim to no chance of passage. That remains to be seen, but I’m happy to report at least progressive viewpoints are alive and well.

A couple days R & R and I’m determined to get underway with this discussion of walking the green line.  I invite you to accompany me as I explore the tangle of thoughts and emotions that keep me knotted in (…some might say obsessed with)  Holy Land politics.

The three days of the hike were packed from early morning until we returned to our accommodations late into the night.  Each hour brought exposure to one or another new dimension of the Israeli Palestinian struggle.  This blog only allows for  brief glimpses into  these experiences, as you know, my hope is to create a more in-depth presentation on my return.

At a little after 7:00 AM we left Tantur in Jerusalem for Mt. Gilboa which is at the northern edge of the Green Line separating the Palestinian territories from the state of Israel.

Management plan for the Tzalmon National Park in the Galilee:

As we sped by a wooded  area, Gershon briefly alluded to a mediation that our guide, Uri Ramon, helped facilitate.  This took place  over a couple years and concerned the development of a management plan for the Tzalmon National Park, which had originally failed to take into account the concerns several key regional stake holders.   Details from the CBI website read as follows:

“Following an assessment by the Consensus Building Institute, three (two Jewish and one Arab Israeli) of the most advanced trainees were selected to become the principals, under CBI supervision, of the mediation team working on the conflicts related to the establishment of the park. The mediation has focused on complicated land ownership issues that have prevented detailed planning. Particularly contentious are the rights for the Bedouin, Muslim Arab and Christian communities living along the riverbank and the rights to the river’s water resources.  After a two-year of effort, the mediation resulted in a proposed settlement that was agreed to and signed by nearly all parties to the conflict on July 8, 2004. The agreement allows residents to remain on their land and includes incentives such as park employment to ensure that they help preserve the natural environment. Plans based on this agreement are currently undergoing the lengthy process of state ratification, though several implementation challenges have yet to be resolved. A thorough case study of this project, written by CBI, points to the importance of using a mediation team that is knowledgeable about local cultural norms and to the difficulties of ensuring appropriate representation in the absence of strong civic culture and organized advocacy groups. The case study highlights the need for ensuring that all parties thoroughly understand the process of consensus building and how it fits with established bureaucratic procedures. It also describes the importance of securing strong support from implementing agencies at the outset.”

Geographic Orientation:

From the overlook near Kibbuttz Mairav where we enjoyed breakfast we could see in every direction and get an orientation:  quite far away to the west we could barely make out the hazy outline of the coastal city of Hadera.  Mt Carmel rose gently north of Hadera creating a natural barrier and western flank of the Yizre’el Valley, the easiest most natural route inland from the coast.  As the valley stretched inland toward us we could make out a triangle of Arabic villages including  Umm El Fahm and Afula at opposite points of the triangle, and the larger town of Jenin forming the southern apex. Our guide directed our attention to topographic distinctions between Israel’s planted forests and Palestinian grazing lands , a theme which would come up time and again during our hike. Snaking along side each other, the deep green of woodland and brisling pines established by aggressive forestation stood out in contrast to nearby Faqua’s muted browns and grayish green fields of olive terraces intended for grazing herds of sheep, goats and camels.  Throughout our walk we would come to more fully appreciate the tension between these competing land-use legacies – one of vigorous development, forestation, irrigated agriculture and pastures for cows, the other of a slower paced culture sustained over generations by extended families clustered around smaller scale mixed use lands for grazing, gardening and olives orchards.  Far to the north and east of where we stood on Mt. Gilboa the smoky purple smudge of Golan Heights created an indistinct northeastern horizon line.

Our hike took us seven or eight kllometres along trails through the Gilboa forests  that roughly parallel a stretch of  border where the actual green line and the separation fence are more or less contiguous.  The majority of this border is undisputed and the fence, although still a highly  contentious presence, is less intrusive.  We would stop from time to time for Uri to show us features of the surrounding flora, pointing to natural adaptations to centuries of grazing, or remnants of rocky terraces and “sabra” fence lines indicating probably locations of Palestinian villages, or spots along the way where “volunteer” pines were freer to cross the fence than their human counterparts on either side.

Jenin Industrial Park:

We arrived back at the bus which took us past the Jelameh crossing point in the Jenin area and to a sumptuous mixed grill lunch in Mkebleh.  Two  leaders of the Gilboa Regional Council, one Israeli and the other Palesinian, met with us during our meal to detail extensive plans for cross-boundary economic development in the Jenin region, with assistance from European Union leaders including Tony Blair and the German government.  Not only were Danny Atar, Israeli Mayor of the Gilboa Regional Council and Eid Salim, Palestinian Deputy Mayor, colleagues in this expansive development effort  but they were the best of friends and reported that they worked together on a nearly daily basis, sometimes multiple times a day, to keep the projects on track and to realize the vision for improving the lives of all citizens in the region.  Each leader, speaking in either Hebrew or Arabic, expressed the same optimism for the future, offering their work as a model for collaborative Arabic / Jewish initiatives.  For me one  critical take-away from this encounter was that where the fence and the green line were in alignment, progress toward neighborly development was far more possible.  I was especially intrigued by innovative security strategies for manufacturers to avoid costly inspections and delays on route to markets.  These  measures allowed for containers to be thoroughly inspected on site and subsequently sealed for transport.  Although less than ideal, both sides indicated a committed willingness to improve conditions on the ground so that one day in the future the need for extreme caution might be less necessary. Jenin Industrial Park
In spring 2008, agreement between the Palestinian Authority and Israeli government  on arrangements for water and electricity services and access laid the foundation for construction, with support of the German government.  According to Tony Blair’s website, “The industrial park will stimulate Palestinian economic activity by attracting (foreign) investments and creating sustainable employment and income generation in the region of Jenin.”