Journal, April 14, 2006—Haifa

Photos: Water in Salfeet & Ariel—part two

Other photos and writing

Water in Salfeet & Ariel—part two

About the wall: many might agree with Israel having a right to protect itself by building a barrier, fence, or wall, but on its own land, either on the green line or on the Israeli side of it. But no, the barrier often runs on the Palestinian side, confiscating land, water, homes, and curtailing freedom of movement. It is especially onerous when it blocks farmers from their lands. In the region of Salfeet and Ariel, the fence punctures much Palestinian land. Over the years, the building of he settlement block has confiscated some 45% of Palestinian lands. The Salfeet Mayor expects that another 25% of the land will be confiscated by the Apartheid Wall. Apparently the US administration in a rare move, disagreed with this routing. Israel's response? To clear the path of the fence and defer building it, as if to say, maybe not today, but for sure tomorrow. They then built sections of the fence, but did not connect the pieces. As if to say, eventually this will be complete, encircling our settlements, our "neighborhoods." In this region the fence departs 13 miles from the Green Line. Encircling Ariel and related settlements, the entire block is inside the fence and well within the West Bank. Outside of course are the Palestinians and so Farid's story of how long a trip now takes is common.

Farid Ta'amallah lives high up on a hill in Qira, next to the town's water tower. Because workers were repairing tower pipes, they'd opened it so we could climb the ladder and stairs to the top. There I could better understand the geography. On several neighboring hills sat the settlements. They're especially obnoxious at night, their lights glare and pierce. This I did show or try to show, maybe not the night but the day and evening. I'm stitching together a panorama view.

Sitting on his small porch overlooking the main road thru town, Farid told me a story that both chilled my gut and warmed my heart. In 2003 during a water emergency, they used their own cistern water, not realizing it was polluted. Their daughter, Lina, then less than 1 year old, became infected. After 3 days of uncertainty about her condition, and with no medical services in their village of Qira, they tried to bring her to Nablus. But the Israelis blocked them for several days, until daughter and mother found a way overland, skirting the checkpoints, walking 5 miles at night in the pouring rain over hills to get to the hospital. They were informed: your daughter has renal failure. To survive she needs a new kidney.

Testing father's and mother's, finding them incompatible, no one else offering a kidney, a friend from South Africa Farid had met at a demonstration heard about this. Anna Weeks offered to have her kidney tested and, if found suitable, donate it. She flew over from South Africa, with difficulty got into Palestine, the testing was affirming, and so she donated one of her kidneys to Lina. Lina is now a bundle of energy, cuddling with her father, bustling about, apparently very healthy now. And I have to wonder, why the hell didn't I photograph her? What a major error! Maybe on the next trip. But for now two photos from the family. Plus a dramatic account written by Dorthy Naor.

Lina Ta'amallah, photoby Farid Ta'amallah

That evening in Qira, after dinner, sitting with Farid, two of his brothers, two of his nephews, all male--the women ate separately, a tradition--a repast of maqluba , another Palestinian tradition, upside down rice stew, with roasted chicken and heaps of flesh salad, I went for a little walk thru the village. One of the brothers is a mason and with the other brother and his two sons, is building a garage and another room for Farid and family.

I did this with some trepidation. The risk is not kidnapping, nor theft, nor mugging, nor losing my way, but being stared at. The foreigner in the village. Anyone who's been in small traditional villages anywhere can empathize with this experience. Or anyone from a small tradition village walking thru a western city can empathize. You stand out, people are curious, and you cannot possibly be incognito. So what? thought I, I'll just go for this little relaxing stroll and see what develops. Sunset developed--I made a few photos. A limestone factory developed--a few more photos. Small boys clung to me--more photos. And then Qira's hospitality kicked in. Somehow I was surrounded by a grinning family of elders and youngers, all related probably. They invited me to sit and have coffee. They introduced me to their patriarch. A woman with fairly good English said, later we'll take your photo with us. I'm not sure I understood exactly what this meant.

During the friendly tumult I clicked away, showing the kids their instant images thanks to my swift digital camera. They giggled and posed for more. What magic, such a camera, such technology!

They then invited me into the courtyard of their home and we had a conversation. Over endless cups of coffee and chai (tea).

Here are some of the folks gathered in our circle: the matriarch, several of her sons, several of her daughters including the vivacious Tahany Awad who sat next to me and translated, her sister, Tahany's husband, and numerous children. The total was at least 10 and this was only a portion of the family. Most live in Qira, as do Farid's family, and my overwhelming impression was how rich they are and how deprived I am in living so isolated from my family. Both Farid's and Tahany's families gather in their respective circles almost every evening, a blessing Farid told me because of the closeness and sometimes a problem when some might wish to be alone.

Tahany is a nurse. Her younger sister had to truncate her higher education pursued in Syria when the family could no longer afford schooling. She is applying for a position in a cultural or social center in Ramallah and traveled there the next day for an interview.   She asked me about social services in the states, and I had to reply with lousy news: disappearing. Tahany's husband works in a stone factory, cutting limestone into building materials. She confided to me the dangers of this work, straining his back and polluting his lungs. The workers do not use protective equipment. During the 1st Intifada, 1988 thru 1993 roughly, he was in prison three years for throwing stones. Many if not most of the men of the village, including Farid, were also in prison during some of this period.

The conversation swirled around their lives and mine: the isolation of mine that I confessed to them, their quality of family life; the fact as Tahany's brother energetically mentioned that few internationals come to places like Qira, but gravitate instead (as I have) to urban areas like Ramallah and Jerusalem. Why is this? he wondered. Because life is easier in the city, we're more used to it, we like the comforts. Of course I was speaking for myself. But his point is important, I admitted, and I hope to rectify the tendency in myself to seek the simplest easiest safest way possible to experience the occupation in the West Bank and Gaza Strip.

Possibly, more will be coming about Salfeet and Ariel, as I absorb my experiences with Palestinians in Israel, Haifa to be exact where I am now for two weeks.

"Lina" by Dorothy Naor

A panoramic view of Qira & Ariel, from the water tower of Qira

UK Pacifist Donates Kidney for Palestinian Child, CAIRO, November 7, 2005 (IslamOnline.net)