A Day in the West Bank, part 1
I wrote this blog post as part of a larger series of blogs by myself and my fellow students on a study abroad trip to Israel and Palestine in January 2020, where we learned about water usage, wastewater treatment, environmental engineering and inequality, and the oppression of Palestine through the lens of environmental control.
Early Monday morning, we left Jerusalem, winding our way through hilly terrain to cross the much-discussed border between Israel and the West Bank. I was most anticipating this day of all days; after reading every book, magazine article, and internet resource I could over the last two months about Israel and Palestine, I was eager to see the other half of the equation, the balance to what we had toured thus far in Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. I wanted to see the truth for myself, as much as I could.
Some time after entering the Palestinian territory, we stopped along the roadside in an area of the West Bank that is controlled by Israel. It is across the road from a large settlement. There is a reststop there for travelers, with a gas station, cafe, and souvenir shop. It was sunny and hot as wandered around the concrete lot, waiting for Clive to join us and admiring the date palms (the first of many we would see that day) and three camels whose owners were sitting in the shade, waiting for tourists to come ride them.
Searching for a bathroom, I walked into the rest-stop café, where a young Arab man behind the counter greeted me in Hebrew, and upon seeing my confusion switched to English, pointing to where I needed to go. After I returned from the restroom, he offered me a mint tea – the first of many times that day I would be treated to incredible Palestinian hospitality – and we started to talk. His name was R.. I had been under the naïve impression that the occupation would be a sensitive subject to bring up, much like talking to a cancer victim about their disease, but the Palestinians I met were more than willing to discuss the geopolitical that affects every aspect of their lives. Because of the occupation, R. shared that he cannot find a job as a lawyer, though he studied law at university and is fluent in English. He could not move freely to see his girlfriend and he is heartbroken each time he hears of the Israeli government using their weapons against Palestinians.
We moved into the warm sunshine as we talked, me with my mint tea and him holding a cigarette. We looked out over a dusty parking lot at the mountainous horizon. I was aware of admonitions – don’t talk to people about being an America, don’t start political conversations, but the conversation was flowing and deepening and I felt no fear in my heart. Making friends in other countries is one of my favorite pieces of traveling. R. pointed out to me that he had greeted me in Hebrew, and even though he is of a different culture, he had been friendly. “The people themselves have no real problem with each other,” he told me, waving his cigarette. The people can get along, he believes. It is their governments that hate each other and the hatred trickles into abuse of their citizens. “What they see when they look at me,” he said, referring to the Israeli army, “is a terrorist. They don’t see that when they look at an old man or an old woman, but a young Arab man is a terrorist. They don’t know me, but that’s what they see.”
R. provided me with a lot of thoughts as we boarded our little bus to continue down into the Jordan Valley. I pondered how it would feel, after achieving my expensive and challenging master’s degree in social work, to be unable to use it because a government limited my freedom of movement and my ability to exercise my rights; frustration welled up in me at the very idea, and then I was flooded with sadness at R.’s reality.
We were on our way to visit two date farms on our day in the West Bank, both of which work with the Aarava Institute (an Israeli agricultural center) and the Palestinian Wastewater Engineering Group (or PWEG, for short, an NGO that is run by citizens in the West Bank operating under the Palestinian Authority). Water is an important topic in the West Bank due to its scarcity and its control. Via the Oslo Accords, Israel is supposed to provide Palestine with its land, energy, and water resources, and the Palestinian Authority controls the people. Water is therefore managed by the Israeli government, who control what flows in and out, and to where.
Water indeed is one of the primary challenges for H., the owner of the first farm. Driving through the little town of A., where H. lives, I stared out the window, trying to absorb everything. Trash litters the ground in Palestine, because the Israeli government does not provide solid waste pick-up. Children on their school holiday walked in groups or with their parents along the roadside. At a blue concrete bus shelter, a young woman and a man in a red and white keffiya waited, shading their eyes from the sun.
We reached H.’s farm and climbed into warm sunshine, shedding our coats as sat in a circle in the bright outdoors, listening to H. , Clive, and two partners from PWEG, S. and I., about H.’s innovative projects and drinking tea with sugar. The clean whitewashed flat-roofed farmhouse sat tucked behind a barn, a small pond, and amongst the lives of his carefully cared for geese, goats, horses, chickens, dogs, cats, and household banana and pomegranate trees.
H. grows dates commercially to sell on the Palestinian and Middle Eastern markets; dates grow well in saline water (with a high salt content) so the majority of farms in the West Bank produce them because the groundwater that they irrigate with is highly saline. In order to produce more water that is usable for irrigating crops that does not have this high salt content, H. uses a water filtration system that he can maintain and run himself. We viewed this wastewater treatment off-grid system, which simply looks like two large black plastic compost bins sitting one on top of each other but cleans graywater to the point that it can be used to irrigate crops; it’s simplicity belies the enormous impact it has on saving H. the worry of using Israeli provided water as well as reducing his overall environmental impact. As we listened to H. describe how the system works, a sandy colored dog came up and snuffled my hand for a pat; I scratched his head and the dog lazily closed his eyes. When I stopped he immediately opened them and nudged my hand again. I knew H. was living in an occupied territory, but he has created a cozy and beautiful farm out of a challenging situation.
What we saw next impressed me even more. We walked behind his barn to look at a small desalination machine he had bought and hopes to restore when he can buy the materials, as well as his innovative small solar farm. H. is using these types of off-grid technology to make his farm run, working across borders and sectors to find solutions to the combined issues of climate change as well as lack of resources due to political constraints.
It was easy to believe that this sweet little farm was a world unto itself, because of the impressive off-grid technology, but this is not by H.’s choice. If it was up to him, with more water he would grow and sell cucumbers and tomatoes. He feels limited and he remembers the farm run by his father and grandfather before the War of 1967, when water was plentiful and the farm was prosperous.
I was struck throughout the day again and again by the inextricable factors of oppression and infrastructure in the lived experience of Palestinian and Israelites. It is true that the Israeli government controls Palestinians by managing their bodily whereabouts, including limiting their mobility throughout the Holy Land and the disproportionate rate of Palestinians who are imprisoned in Israeli jails. But the deeper subtler truth is that Palestinians are oppressed via the structures in which they live, because these too are under Israeli control. While Israelis have access to 95% of the groundwater in the West Bank, West Bank citizens only have access to 5%. This breaks down to 12 hours of water access over a period of three days, including during the summer months.
As we stood admiring H.’s solar panels, I struck up a conversation with S. from the PWEG. The feeling of frustration that I had felt talking to R. arose in me again when I was speaking to her. S. is an engineer that works for the Palestinian Wastewater Engineering Group who joined us to explain the work that their group is doing with Palestinian farmers. She was educated a university in her hometown of Nablus. While she was able to find work that is fulfilling to her, she says it is hard for women engineers to find jobs because of male dominance in the field. S. also shared that a huge part of life for Palestinians is having their movement limited and tracked by the Israeli government, an injustice that is differentially applied to Muslims and Christians. "What we want is our rights,” she said plainly, a sentiment later echoed by H.
Standing against the backdrop of H.’s creative innovation, driven by his lack of connection to the Israeli systems, S. showed us her three IDs; one, an Israeli issued ID, the second a Palestinian national ID card, and the third a temporary permit that allows her into Jerusalem during the Christmas period only, because she is a Christian. If she were Muslim, she told us, it would be much harder to get this kind of permit to enter Jerusalem.
Part of occupation, the less headline-grabbing part, is making life simply uncomfortable for people who are living under it. This discomfort, day after day, week after week, for a lifetime over generations, causes chronic, repeated trauma alongside the acute incidences of violence and fear that Palestinians live in due to Israeli occupation. As we left the farm, I stared out the window trying to reconcile the clean, bright streets of Jerusalem with the dusty humble roads. The two people waiting at the bus stop had gone; it felt representative to me somehow; public infrastructure – buses, roads, water, land – is serving the people of Palestine, but it is done against the odds and it is nothing like the ease with which Israelis navigate their world.
To be continued - part 2 on its way.
Some time after entering the Palestinian territory, we stopped along the roadside in an area of the West Bank that is controlled by Israel. It is across the road from a large settlement. There is a reststop there for travelers, with a gas station, cafe, and souvenir shop. It was sunny and hot as wandered around the concrete lot, waiting for Clive to join us and admiring the date palms (the first of many we would see that day) and three camels whose owners were sitting in the shade, waiting for tourists to come ride them.
Searching for a bathroom, I walked into the rest-stop café, where a young Arab man behind the counter greeted me in Hebrew, and upon seeing my confusion switched to English, pointing to where I needed to go. After I returned from the restroom, he offered me a mint tea – the first of many times that day I would be treated to incredible Palestinian hospitality – and we started to talk. His name was R.. I had been under the naïve impression that the occupation would be a sensitive subject to bring up, much like talking to a cancer victim about their disease, but the Palestinians I met were more than willing to discuss the geopolitical that affects every aspect of their lives. Because of the occupation, R. shared that he cannot find a job as a lawyer, though he studied law at university and is fluent in English. He could not move freely to see his girlfriend and he is heartbroken each time he hears of the Israeli government using their weapons against Palestinians.
We moved into the warm sunshine as we talked, me with my mint tea and him holding a cigarette. We looked out over a dusty parking lot at the mountainous horizon. I was aware of admonitions – don’t talk to people about being an America, don’t start political conversations, but the conversation was flowing and deepening and I felt no fear in my heart. Making friends in other countries is one of my favorite pieces of traveling. R. pointed out to me that he had greeted me in Hebrew, and even though he is of a different culture, he had been friendly. “The people themselves have no real problem with each other,” he told me, waving his cigarette. The people can get along, he believes. It is their governments that hate each other and the hatred trickles into abuse of their citizens. “What they see when they look at me,” he said, referring to the Israeli army, “is a terrorist. They don’t see that when they look at an old man or an old woman, but a young Arab man is a terrorist. They don’t know me, but that’s what they see.”
R. provided me with a lot of thoughts as we boarded our little bus to continue down into the Jordan Valley. I pondered how it would feel, after achieving my expensive and challenging master’s degree in social work, to be unable to use it because a government limited my freedom of movement and my ability to exercise my rights; frustration welled up in me at the very idea, and then I was flooded with sadness at R.’s reality.
We were on our way to visit two date farms on our day in the West Bank, both of which work with the Aarava Institute (an Israeli agricultural center) and the Palestinian Wastewater Engineering Group (or PWEG, for short, an NGO that is run by citizens in the West Bank operating under the Palestinian Authority). Water is an important topic in the West Bank due to its scarcity and its control. Via the Oslo Accords, Israel is supposed to provide Palestine with its land, energy, and water resources, and the Palestinian Authority controls the people. Water is therefore managed by the Israeli government, who control what flows in and out, and to where.
Water indeed is one of the primary challenges for H., the owner of the first farm. Driving through the little town of A., where H. lives, I stared out the window, trying to absorb everything. Trash litters the ground in Palestine, because the Israeli government does not provide solid waste pick-up. Children on their school holiday walked in groups or with their parents along the roadside. At a blue concrete bus shelter, a young woman and a man in a red and white keffiya waited, shading their eyes from the sun.
We reached H.’s farm and climbed into warm sunshine, shedding our coats as sat in a circle in the bright outdoors, listening to H. , Clive, and two partners from PWEG, S. and I., about H.’s innovative projects and drinking tea with sugar. The clean whitewashed flat-roofed farmhouse sat tucked behind a barn, a small pond, and amongst the lives of his carefully cared for geese, goats, horses, chickens, dogs, cats, and household banana and pomegranate trees.
H. grows dates commercially to sell on the Palestinian and Middle Eastern markets; dates grow well in saline water (with a high salt content) so the majority of farms in the West Bank produce them because the groundwater that they irrigate with is highly saline. In order to produce more water that is usable for irrigating crops that does not have this high salt content, H. uses a water filtration system that he can maintain and run himself. We viewed this wastewater treatment off-grid system, which simply looks like two large black plastic compost bins sitting one on top of each other but cleans graywater to the point that it can be used to irrigate crops; it’s simplicity belies the enormous impact it has on saving H. the worry of using Israeli provided water as well as reducing his overall environmental impact. As we listened to H. describe how the system works, a sandy colored dog came up and snuffled my hand for a pat; I scratched his head and the dog lazily closed his eyes. When I stopped he immediately opened them and nudged my hand again. I knew H. was living in an occupied territory, but he has created a cozy and beautiful farm out of a challenging situation.
What we saw next impressed me even more. We walked behind his barn to look at a small desalination machine he had bought and hopes to restore when he can buy the materials, as well as his innovative small solar farm. H. is using these types of off-grid technology to make his farm run, working across borders and sectors to find solutions to the combined issues of climate change as well as lack of resources due to political constraints.
It was easy to believe that this sweet little farm was a world unto itself, because of the impressive off-grid technology, but this is not by H.’s choice. If it was up to him, with more water he would grow and sell cucumbers and tomatoes. He feels limited and he remembers the farm run by his father and grandfather before the War of 1967, when water was plentiful and the farm was prosperous.
I was struck throughout the day again and again by the inextricable factors of oppression and infrastructure in the lived experience of Palestinian and Israelites. It is true that the Israeli government controls Palestinians by managing their bodily whereabouts, including limiting their mobility throughout the Holy Land and the disproportionate rate of Palestinians who are imprisoned in Israeli jails. But the deeper subtler truth is that Palestinians are oppressed via the structures in which they live, because these too are under Israeli control. While Israelis have access to 95% of the groundwater in the West Bank, West Bank citizens only have access to 5%. This breaks down to 12 hours of water access over a period of three days, including during the summer months.
As we stood admiring H.’s solar panels, I struck up a conversation with S. from the PWEG. The feeling of frustration that I had felt talking to R. arose in me again when I was speaking to her. S. is an engineer that works for the Palestinian Wastewater Engineering Group who joined us to explain the work that their group is doing with Palestinian farmers. She was educated a university in her hometown of Nablus. While she was able to find work that is fulfilling to her, she says it is hard for women engineers to find jobs because of male dominance in the field. S. also shared that a huge part of life for Palestinians is having their movement limited and tracked by the Israeli government, an injustice that is differentially applied to Muslims and Christians. "What we want is our rights,” she said plainly, a sentiment later echoed by H.
Standing against the backdrop of H.’s creative innovation, driven by his lack of connection to the Israeli systems, S. showed us her three IDs; one, an Israeli issued ID, the second a Palestinian national ID card, and the third a temporary permit that allows her into Jerusalem during the Christmas period only, because she is a Christian. If she were Muslim, she told us, it would be much harder to get this kind of permit to enter Jerusalem.
Part of occupation, the less headline-grabbing part, is making life simply uncomfortable for people who are living under it. This discomfort, day after day, week after week, for a lifetime over generations, causes chronic, repeated trauma alongside the acute incidences of violence and fear that Palestinians live in due to Israeli occupation. As we left the farm, I stared out the window trying to reconcile the clean, bright streets of Jerusalem with the dusty humble roads. The two people waiting at the bus stop had gone; it felt representative to me somehow; public infrastructure – buses, roads, water, land – is serving the people of Palestine, but it is done against the odds and it is nothing like the ease with which Israelis navigate their world.
To be continued - part 2 on its way.
Comments
Post a Comment