'YOU ARE WELCOME' - Thoughts on Leaving the Holy Land

Eappi Group 32, Jayyous Team, on the verandah of the Municipal Building in Jayyous, l-r: Patricia Carswell (Sweden), Mandla Mndebele (South Africa), Elice Higginbotham (U.S.), Cecilia Holtan (Norway). Above and left, the fields, orchards, greenhouses of Jayyous, mostly behind the Separation Barrier - the grey, curved stripe fading into the distance behind us. Photo: Jamie Drew

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I was sent by the Common Board of Global Ministries of the United Church of Christ (UCC) and the Christian Church, Disciples of Christ, and Church SWorld Service, to participate in the World Council of Churches' (WCC) Ecumenical Accompaniment Programme in Palestine and Israel (EAPPI). The views contained herein are personal and do not necessarily reflect those of Global Ministries. the UCC or Christian Church, Disciples of Christ, Church World Service, or the WCC. If you would like to publish the information contained here or disseminate it further, please first contact the EAPPI Coordination (eappi-co@jrol.com) for permission. Thank you.

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Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints; extend hospitality to strangers. - Romans 12:12-13

Our EAPPI group began its orientation last August with an "opening circle," and I recorded some of my own "opening thoughts" in one of my early blog posts at that time. We held a "closing circle," too, last Friday afternoon (a week ago today, as I write this) before our group members began dispersing over the ensuing weekend to return to our home countries.

My vivid memories and parting thoughts were two: the Women's Association of Jayyous, and vegetables.

To the right, Adla, the convener and key motivator of the Women's Association, which meets weekly on Tuesday mornings. Women of all ages gather for a couple hours of program, conversation, refreshments, "catching up" with each other. These are important occasions for these women. Most married women (and there are comparatively few single women) in traditional rural West Bank villages do not get out much. It is true that more women work outside the home, at least partly because jobs are less available for men who are unable to work their land; and more travel and seek higher educaction, if they can afford it. But many women's lives continue to be centered in the home; and family life here, from my observation, is rich, lively and demanding. These weekly meetings provide and opportunity for the women to socialize, and to share questions and concerns that might not so easily be brought up within the family circle, among their men and children.

When my female teammates and I began attending last August, a social workers wsas just complete a series with the women on the concerns of mothers with children (mostly, but not exclusively, sons) in prison. He talked about the needs of the prisoner and of the family, and about what kinds of "re-entry" resources are necessary and available to aid a released prisoner's return to the community. He patiently answered lengthy and impassioned questions from frustrated, worried mothers. I've encountered these questions in my social justice education and organizing work in the U.S. and in Latin America, so I know that they're not necessarily matters that have anything to do with the occupation.

But, of course, they have everything to do with the occupation, because prison is ubiquitous in Palestinian communities. "Children" in prison can mean just that: kids of 11 or 12 are frequently arrested for throwing stones at Israeli military jeeps, or just being nearby and not running fast enough. Young teenagers who participate in demonstrations may be incarcerated. In Jayyous, few young men are granted permits to cross through the agricultural gates to work their land enclosed by the Wall because so many young men have a "security history" -- they have been in prison, or their brothers, cousins, uncles or parents have been in prison.

The second series of Women's Association programs was on family dynamics and communication within the family. I remember the session when the social worker emphasized the importance of telling children what is going on when the family is undergoing a crsis. He pointed out that children soak up the tension in the family atmosphere, and trying to hide adult problems and worries from the kids will only add to their confusion and fright. At the same time, children need to be talked to in words they can understand, and in ways that reassure them that the family loves them and will continue to take care of them.

Nothing to do with the occupation, and everything to do with the occupation.... These are children who watch their parents routinely undermined in their efforts to support the family economically. They wait in the back of the family's tractor-tailer during harvest season as Israeli soldiers determine whether Dad or Granddad or Uncle will be permitted to cross over to work on their own land today; their questions or whines must be hused if Dad is treated abusively or his permit or ID checks take a long time. These children wake up terrified when Israeli military raid their homes in the middle of the night. They ask why their fathers and brothers are arrested, and why their mothers are crying. They cry themselves whne beloved relatives leave a tight and supportive family circle to try their luck abroad when it is too difficult to feed growing children where there are no jobs, and access to the land has been denied. How to reassure children of the family's constant support and care in the face of these daily challenges?

I sat in the back of the tractor-trailer on four occasions during the olive harvest in Jayyous this fall. I waited for up to 45 minutes in line. I gave my passport over to the soldiers, who entered my number in their cvomputer along with those of the Palestinian permit-holders, to determine whether we could pick olives that day or not. Twice I was granted permission to go to the orchard. Twice I was refused; no reason given.

Not me in that tractor-trailer -- but I've been there, waiting... Photo: Mandla Mndebele

Which leads me to vegetables....

There is a reason why the environs of the Holy Land have been characterized as "the Fertile Crescent." I defy anyone to offer me a tastier tomato, a crisper cucumber, a richer avocado, a sweeter Clementine, a more flavorful spoonful of fresh-pressed olive oil than can be found in the northern West Bank, the "bread basket" of Palestine. As we used to say in my youth, "I kid you not": even the occasional misshapen, off-color, unappealing-looking vegetable (and these don't get hidden or kept off the shelves in a rural village) -- take'm home, wash'm off, cut'm up, and they are to die for! Fresh-picked, organically-grown produce, every morning, the salad lover's dream....

Nothing to do with the occupation, and everything to do with the occupation.... In Jayyous, these tasty treats are mostly grown behind the Wall, which affects every aspect of thier cultivation and marketing. Even with a permit, an individual farmer whose relatives cannot cross through the gate and who cannot afford to hire help, can plant or harvest only so much crop. Water access is controlled, and irrigation is limited only to daylight hours, because one cannot remain in a fild behind the Wall overnight. Vehicles are controlled, so getting the crop to market may be chance-y. And everything is grown organically because fertilizer must be brought in from Israel, which permits only one kind -- because fertilizers contain nitrates, ingredients also used in the manufacture of explosives, and therefore present a "security risk."

Had I not lived for three months in a northern West Bank farming village, it would never have occured to me that the production of fresh, delicious produce has anything to do with the occupation.

English Club members enjoying conversation at Al Quds Open University in Qalqilya. Photo: Patricia Carswell

"You are welcome." This is how Palestinians routinely greet visitors, whether in their homes, their places of business, at meetings, in casual settings and on formal occasions. I have been told by countless cab drivers while being driven to my destination, by innumerable storekeepers while I've made a purchase or merely window-shopped, by more people thatn I can remember who've stopped me in the street to ask where I'm from: "You are welcome." "You are welcom in my home." "You are welcome in my country."

Three words, no contraction (as in "you're welcome"). It's not an expression, not a rote response, it's very personal. In this culture, it is important to welcome visitors, It is important to receive them with gratitude and generosity, because visitors are a gift. I say "Thank you" for the welcome, after I have, in essence, already been tahnks for my very presence.

And, just in case I still thought how easy it is to toss off words like a memorized ritual, once inside any home or office, those three words were followed by the tangible offering of refreshment, usually at least three kinds in quick succession: water or juice, coffee, sweet tea, often punctuated with cookies or candy. (Don't get me started on the amount and variety of food offered when one is invited for a full meal!)

I remember vividly (and with some embarassment) the afternoon a teammate and I spent at the home of a young man who was eager to show us how the occupation manifested itself in his family's and village's daily life. We were there, perhaps, two or three hours, during which time the above refreshments were supplied in plenty. Our schedule, however, requuired us to leave before the evening meal, and when we stood up at the time we needed to depart and began to bid the family a grateful farewell, our young host suddenly disappeared! A cab was waiting outside to take us to our next engagement; we wanted to say goodby to the young man, so we waited, just a bit impatiently, at the gate. After several minutes, our host reappeared, aplogizing because his mother had not begun to cook earlier in the day, and pressing into our hands an assortment of packaged sweets -- he'd run quickly to the local shop as we were thanking the rest of the family, so that my teammate and I would not leave his home unfed. "You are welcome," he reminded us as we departed.

At the last English conversation session I led for the English Club students on the Qalqilya campus of Al Quds Open University, I began by saying, "I'm sorry to say that this is myu last meeting with you. I'm going to miss you! So today, instead of starting with questions and things I'd like you to talk about, I'd like to ask you if you have any questions for me. Is there anything you'd like to ask me about America, or about the program I've been working wiht in Palestine, or about what I've done or what I've learned here? Or is there anything you want me to know -- anything you want to be able to say to me, or want me to say to others about Palestine when I go home?"

One of the first questions I was asked was, "What will you tell people in America about us? What's the first thing you'll tell them about what Palestinians are like?"

After just a few seconds' thought, I responded: "Hospitable. If I have to say the first thing that comes into my mind about Palestinians, I will say, 'They are hospitable people.'"

A few seconds of silence followed and then I suddenly couldn't resist saying, "And that's a political statement. Do you understand why I say that?"

For young people who come from a naturally hospitable culture, my insistence that I was making a political point involved a good amount of discussion (after all, I was there to encourage them to talk to each other in English) to tease out my meaning.

Palestinians are, first and foremost, a hospitable people. This is in complete contradiction to the image of Palestinians as terrorists. Terrorists, by definiation, have to be the opposite of hospitable. The Palestinians I met daily are people who treate others with more disinterested kindness, sensitivity, attention and generosity than I have ever experienced in 45-odd years of travel on four continents. I emphasize this so strongly because it is important to give the lie to the (sometimes unconscious) western stereotype of Palestinians as closed-minded, brutal, cunning and intransigent people with no regard for the pain of others. On the contrary, in my experinece, few Americans are aware at all of either the pain or the hospitality that characterize the life of Palestinians in occupied Palestine.

I have been home for a little less than a week as I finish writing this. My body is just beginning to function in the right time zone. My spirit is still struggling with how to integrate all I have experienced in Palestine into my daily life in the U.S., as an American and a Christina, into my personal, social and faith commitments.

Perhaps the best place to start is... You are welcome; and see where it takes me.