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Nothing is ordinary here – except, of course, the people. They’re just like you and me, getting on with their lives as best they can. We are the only foreigners in town, so everyone knows us and knows why we’re here. When we go to the market, there are cries of “Welcome!” on all sides. The children kick a football for me to kick back, then they queue up for a handshake and they quickly exhaust their fund of English with “How are you? What’s your name?” It’s no good being an introvert if you’re a foreigner in Tulkarem.

But talking of extraordinary things – next door to our apartment is a ruined building. It used to be a police station, but it was blown up by the Israelis in 2003, during the second intifada (or uprising). On the same day they destroyed the local police HQ with an F16 rocket. This was in violation of international law which says that such weapons shouldn’t be used against targets in civilian areas.

But this is about people. What is it like to be an ordinary person in an extraordinary situation? Here are some snapshots of people I’ve met, starting in the refugee camp . . . .
An English conversation class, or an attempt at a class! I was confronted by four very giggly 30-year old girls. I think they had come to meet Per, my huge and hunky 27-year old Swedish colleague, and they seemed disappointed when he wasn’t there. Still, one of them tried to make the best of it. She asked me my age and whether I am married. “Yes,” I replied. She made an expression of disgust and walked out. But she returned a few minutes later, and one of her friends, Samira , told me that she liked me and wanted to marry me. Oh well – there’s no accounting for taste. At the end, she gave me a present – a one pound coin!

The class continued, after a fashion. I asked them to tell me about their families. One has a brother who was killed in the second intifada. Another has a brother in prison in Israel. He’s done seven years and has 14 to go. By contrast, a third said that her husband lives in Chicago and she is hoping to join him this summer. But the Israelis have refused to give her a permit to cross into Israel to go to the US embassy in Tel Aviv. She is going to try to go to the embassy in Amman, Jordan instead.

Rami the barber welcomed us into his barber’s shop (and general hanging-out venue). He gave us coffee, of course, and showed us the keys to his grandparents’ house in Haifa from whence they fled in 1948. Thousand of Palestinians keep such keys, guarding them as precious momentos of their former lives.

And Suhair. She is a wonderful lady who works at the refugee camp organising all sorts of classes such as those for expectant mothers. She was funded by the UN, but now the funding has run out. She still carries on, but works as a volunteer.

Mohammed is a serious young man. A refugee, whose family lost their home in Haifa in 1948. He used to volunteer in the camp, but has just got a job. The highlight of his life was a visit to Jerusalem with his father when he was five. Now he cannot go to Jerusalem at all. Since the Israeli government annexed East Jerusalem and built the wall around it, Palestinians living in the West Bank cannot get permits to visit Jerusalem without a good reason, such as employment. Tourism is not acceptable. I tried to imagine what it would be like for me not to be allowed to visit London . . . .

Mohammed’s neighbour has been refused a permit to go to his land behind the Separation Barrier, so his olives are going to waste. He doesn’t know why.

Issa has a brother in Norway and another in Germany. His own job is helping people to write applications for permits to pass through checkpoints and gates in the barrier. Most applications are refused, he says. When there is some current security problem, only about 10% will be granted a permit. In good times, this may rise to 40%. “They (the Israelis) treat us like chess pieces, moving us around as they please,” he said.

Now we’ll move into Tulkarem town. Just up the road from our house is Samir’s coffee shop. He likes us to visit and he won’t take any money for his fearsomely strong coffee. “Every Friday, before the barrier was built, all Tulkarem used to drive the 20km to the beach in Netanya, in Israel,” he told me. “Friday was Arab day in Netanya. But now it’s impossible.” He intends to emigrate to Norway where there is a large Palestinian community. “There is no life here,” he said. “People don’t respect humans. In Europe they do respect humans.” I hope he won’t be disappointed.

Samir’s sister, Mouna, and their elderly mother We squeezed into Mouna’s mother’s abode – a tiny shop where she sits all day, too large and arthritic to move, watching Indian movies. It’s a cold day, so there is a tray of hot coals in front of her. The occasional neighbour comes in and picks up a bottle of coke or a packet of sweets and gives her the money. Mouna serves each of us several oranges and cups of tea. Samir, Mouna and their mother are one of only two Christian families in the town. But this is not a problem to Mouna. “I love them,” she said of her Moslem neighbours. “And they love me.”

Samir and Mouna’s four brothers have all converted to Islam, partly because they wanted to marry local girls, who are all moslem.

I met Imad in a “service” – the shared minibus taxis which run all over the West Bank. His wife is Palestinian but with Jordanian citizenship. She is not allowed to visit Israel. He can visit her, but only for short visits and he has to apply for a special permit each time. Their children can travel freely from Jordan to Palestine, but this will stop when they become 16. The reason for this (I think) is that the Israelis regard any young Palestinian of 16 or older as a potential terrorist.

At the Ephraim Terminal I fell into conversation with an engineering student who had come to observe how the terminal works. His uncle in America had just died. For ten years his mother hadn’t been able to obtain a permit to visit her brother and now it is too late.

What a contrast with Fayez, the shoe shop owner with an American accent. He has visited his brother in Chicago and has seen Niagra Falls. I asked whether he had had problems obtaining a permit to leave Palestine. “No,” he said, “because I have a good business, plenty of money and a house. So there is no chance of my not returning.” Is this a general rule, I wonder? Or was he really telling me that if you have money you can effectively buy a permit?

If you get lost in Tulkarem and you want to find the EAPPI apartment, you just have to ask for Usama’s supermarket. Everyone knows Usama’s, and it’s right next door. The “supermarket” is actually a small shop packed full of groceries and other useful stuff. Usama speaks good English and welcomes us warmly. He sells delicious dates, imported from Israel. There are equally good dates grown in Jericho (in Palestine) but the Israelis will not allow Usama to obtain these because they want him to sell Israeli produce.

Muawya our taxi-driver is crucial to our work. He is a mine of local information such as which checkpoints are functioning. He is not allowed into Israel but if we want to go across, he arranges with a Palestinian Israeli friend to meet us at the border. Three weeks ago he was stopped at an internal checkpoint. The soldiers said that the papers for his car were not in order, although Muawya believes that they are. He was held by the Israelis for several hours, he had to pay fine of £400 and his car was illegally impounded for two weeks. He has a wife and three children, including a new baby, but he was unable to earn any income until his car was returned.

Samar visits us from time to time. She told us how her mother used to wear short skirts, but now such a thing would be unthinkable in Tulkarem, as in most of the West Bank. Most women wear long flowing garments and the hejab. Some younger women wear jeans and a long-sleeved top, but almost all wear the hejab. Samar herself doesn’t wear the hejab, but gets away with it by wearing a hat which covers her hair. “Tulkarem is a very traditional place,” she says. “It’s not Islam that restricts women, it’s tradition.”

Dr Khalid Sweis of Khadurie university couldn’t have given us a warmer welcome. He took us on a tour of the town in his car, including a viewpoint overlooking the Wall and Israel beyond. “All this land, as far as the Mediterranean, belonged to Tulkarem before 1948,” he said. “Even until 2003, people crossed regularly in both directions. No-one was scared. No-one was harmed. Now the wall has stopped all that.” But he was optimistic. “Everyone wants peace. We are the same as the Israelis – only our religions are different. Why can’t the leaders on both sides just leave us to get on with living together?”

And here’s another contrast.. After the gym one day (yes, there is a gym in Tulkarem and I’m a member!) Jamal kidnapped me and insisted on driving me to his pharmacy where he plied me with the inevitable coffee. Regarding the Israel/Palestine situation he said “There is no solution. We cannot accept them and they cannot accept us.”

Dr Sweis told us about his sister. Her son was imprisoned for taking part in a demonstration. Soon afterwards, the Israeli army arrived at her apartment block, and blew up all four apartments. The damage to a nearby hospital ran into hundreds of thousand of dollars.

Khaled is highly intelligent and articulate. As coffee was served he spoke calmly, but gradually his anger became apparent. He described many of the restrictions and frustrations imposed by the Occupation: permits, check points, road blocks, barrier, harrassment by soldiers, economic dependence. He has chosen the quiet way – the way of acceptance and getting on with life. But he was worried about his son. Which way would he choose? If it is the way of violent resistance, his father could hardly blame him. Hope for the future was hard to find.

Amir is a young man who works at a market stall. He greets me enthusiastically whenever I’m out shopping in the market. One day he gave me some peanuts – or rather he shoved some peanuts straight into my mouth with his rather grubby hand . . . I survived.

We upset two Israeli soldiers by wandering into an unsignposted “military area”, close to the wall. They summoned us and asked us what we were doing. They seemed unable to believe that we could live safely and happily in Tulkarem. To them Tulkarem was a dark and dangerous place, full of unknown terrors. To us, the only danger came from their nervous fingers on the triggers of their guns.

Another Israeli soldier, at an agricultural gate, came through for a chat. He was relaxed and honest. “No-one wants to stand here and check farmers’ bags,” he said. His colleague was less relaxed: “It’s for the security of Israel!” – a frequently heard mantra.

A leading West Bank lawyer happened to sit beside me in a coffee shop. His father had worked with the British. “The West Bank is a terrible place,” he said, and I waited for stories of Israel, occupation and the barrier. But none came. He just spoke about the Palestinian Authority, who have no respect for the law. He himself had frequently obtained orders from the High Court for the release of certain prisoners who had been wrongly detained, but the PA took no notice and the prisoners remain in jail.

And Ahmed, the activist. He gives us enormous support and encouragement. But he is occasionally frustrated at our unwillingness to strike directly at the occupation. Talking of the Ephraim Terminal he said “Cut the fence!” I explained what he already knew: we observe, we report, we accompany, but we don’t cut fences.

Another of our valued helpers is Mahmoud, who works for an Israeli human rights organisation. He is a busy man and is difficult to tie down. But if he phones and says ”Come with me now!” we jump up and go. One day he took us to a village whose life and economy have been utterly decimated by the building of the wall, which cuts them off from their next-door neighbours. “My friend,” he said, “the effects of the wall on Palestinian society run very, very deep”. On another occasion he took us to a small village whose occupants had been shamelessly bullied by local Israeli settlers the day before, in an attempt to force them to abandon their homes. Despite seeing such things frequently, he is deeply moved.

History – a two-edged sword

“Exodus”, the movie, tells the heroic story of the Zionist pioneers who fought to lay the foundations for the new state of Israel. And the whole world knows the history of the Holocaust and how thousands of Jewish refugees came to Palestine, despite Britain’s best efforts to keep them out. But to Palestinians, the same history looks very different – and it’s not just history, it’s current reality and it’s populated with villains.

A strong sense of history; but who are the villains?

Many Tulkarem people follow Spanish football, so the first question I’m often asked is “Are you Barcelona or Real Madrid?” to which I reply “Arsenal.” The next question is usually “Where are you from?”and I reply “From Britain.” Then the response comes: “Ah – the Balfour Declaration!”. This was the fateful decision in 1917 by the British government to allow Jews from around the world to come to Palestine. This was the start of all the trouble – or so runs the popular mythology.

And it’s not just the British who are the villains. “I am from Norway,” says my colleague, who then receives the response “The Oslo Accords!”. These are the 1993 supposedly temporary arrangements, which include the right for Israel to expand settlements and to demolish Palestinian houses in certain areas of the West Bank. Oslo is the fount of all Palestinian woes – or so runs another popular mythology.

Sadly, of course, both myths contain some truth, although neither is the whole truth.

But there’s a simpler view. Mohammed built his restaurant with his own hands in 2003. He also owns a small amount of land. “My grandfather used to own hundreds of acres of land,” he said, “but the Jews took it.”

Just like that. “The Jews took it.” Hundreds of thousands of people share this same history, but how many of us in the West are aware of it?

And finally . . .

I’ve tried to give a few glimpses of another life – life in Tulkarem, where ordinary people live in extraordinary circumstances. Surrounded by the ugly apparatus of occupation, they pursue their day-to-day lives with courage, good humour and intense frustration.

I feel deeply priveleged to have shared the lives of these extraordinary, ordinary people, and I owe it to them to pass on what I have seen and heard. This has been a very personal view, but I hope you’ve enjoyed it.

Peter Balaam
30 March 2010

Other Voice

“Not in my name. Not for my security” wrote Nomika about the Israeli invasion of Gaza. Nomika is an Israeli who lives in Sderot, the town which has suffered from rocket attacks from Gaza every day for many years. Some of her friends have been killed. The children’s playground in Sderot contains a bomb shelter disguised as a huge dragon. Yet still she believes that war solves nothing. She is unpopular with most of her neighbours, but she is part of a small network of Israelis called “Other Voice”. They advocate friendship as a crucial element of peace-building with the Palestinians. “The government has spent millions to equip every house, bus stop and playground with bomb shelters,” said Nomika, “but not a penny on building relationships between people in Gaza and Sderot.” Nomika and her colleagues have deliberately made friends with people in Gaza by ’phone, and they have brought together groups of people from both sides. Their courage is astounding.

New Profile

Ruth was amazed when her son told her that he planned to refuse to go into the army, even if it meant prison. She was forced to re-think everything. Now, although she remains a committed Zionist and a believer in Israel, she is seriously concerned about the militarization of Israeli society. Most 18-year-old Jewish Israelis do military service for two or three years . The men also serve as reservists for three weeks every year until age 44. Children have a military number from birth and they are introduced to military organisations from age 16. Many school geography field trips go to battlefields. Most Israelis (justifiably) feel threatened and believe that they need a strong army. So armed soldiers are visible everywhere, in Israel as well as in the West Bank. Fighter planes and submarines are part of public art. The army is an everyday part of life, a fact that cannot but contribute to violence. And it encourages young people to leave their consciences at the door. Ruth works with “New Profile” whose aim is to work for the de-militarization of Israeli society. Without advertising or inciting, they offer counselling to refusers, and to the parents of refusers. Hundreds approach them for help. Like Nomika, Ruth has experienced bitter opposition from her peers, but she is determined to continue.

An Amazing Kibbutz

Dov Avital lives in Kibbutz Metzer, right by the separation barrier. Hetold us the amazing story of cooperation between the kibbutz and neighbouring Palestinian villages on both sides of the border. The kibbutzniks argued successfully that any services provided for them by the government should be provided equally for Macer village. Metzer and Macer struggled together against Israeli beaurocracy to gain permission for joint agricultural projects. They have negotiated together with the Israeli army over the routing of the separation barrier. The kibbutz argued that the land needed for the barrier should be taken equally from their land and from the land of of Qaffin village. Sadly they were ignored, and only Qaffin’s land was taken. Don believes that the present government’s policy towards the West Bank and the Palestinians is “crazy”. Such people are rare in Israel, although according to Arieh, a leader at Kibbutz Ziqim, near Gaza, 40% of Israelis want peace.

But what about the other 60%?

Miriam was our Israeli guide on a tour to Masada and the Dead Sea. As we drove through military check points she steadfastly made no comment. When asked about the general situation, she said “Things are OK at the moment.” Many Israelis take this view. They just want to get on with their lives, bring up their children and enjoy a good life. The status quo is fine because the occupation hardly impinges on daily life, and they prefer not to think about Palestinians at all. They shut out the fact that a few miles from their front door, there is an occupied country and there are people whose lives are severely restricted. If pushed, many would say that they see no prospect of living in harmony with Palestinians because the two cultures are so different. Just build a wall and forget what’s on the other side.

My Swedish colleague, Per, met David on a bus in Israel. David pointed to Per’s Lonely Planet Guide to Israel and the Palestinian Territories. “You can remove the last name,” he said. “It’s all Israel. Palestine is a figment of the imagination.” He spoke of how he came to Israel from Latvia, and how both he and his sons served in the army. “But,” said Per, “international law recognises Palestine as occupied territory.” The reply was terse. “International law was invented by European countries that haven’t been at war for a long time. As far as I am concerned, might is right.” Scary stuff, but typical of many Israelis.

A few religious Israelis go further. They believe the whole of Israel/Palestine was given to the Jews by God. Palestinians are welcome to live in “Israel” so long as they are willing to accept this. If not they should go somewhere else. “Jews have only one country. Arabs have nine”. This common attitude ignores the fact of Palestinian identity. It’s rather like suggesting that there is no difference between Britons, Irish, Americans, Australians, New Zealanders and Canadians. There is a also a tiny minority of Israelis who favour expelling the Palestinians by force.

Solutions?

A “Two-state solution” is the favoured option for many. This would involve a Palestinian state in the West Bank and Gaza, and mutual recognition between Israel and Palestine. One huge obstacle is the half million Israeli settlers living in the West Bank. In order to provide enough land for a viable Palestinian state, many (if not all) of the settlements would have to be evacuated, which could lead to civil war within Israel itself. Another obstacle is the reluctance of some Palestinian groups to recognize Israel explicitly.

Others advocate a “One-state solution” with Israelis and Palestinians living as equal citizens of a single country, perhaps involving some sort of federation. One big obstacle to this is the Israeli insistence on a specifically Jewish state.

The only certainty is that the seeds of peace will not germinate for many years to come.

Peter Balaam. 26 March 2010

I had a new and amusing experience today. I was passing the local mosque just as the men were coming out after midday prayers. For a long time, I’d wanted to pray in a mosque so I took my courage in both hands and asked whether I could go in. Several men, including the Sheikh who is in charge of the mosque, welcomed me warmly. I went in and knelt on the floor and began to pray. I felt very much at peace.

After a few minutes a man (named Ahmed) came and sat beside me and spoke to me.

“It’s not allowed to pray in here except in the proper moslem way,” he said. “You asked whether you could come into the mosque and the sheikh said that you could, but that was only to have a look around. You cannot pray in here in the way of any other religion. It is forbidden by Allah.” All this was said in a very friendly, but emphatic manner. The Sheikh came and sat with me as well. I said that I understood and I was very sorry. Ahmed said that I could ask the sheikh any questions that I liked about Islam and he would be able to help me.

“But I am praying to the same God,” I said. “Yes,” replied the man. “But the Koran is God’s final word. The other books that came before like the Torah and your Injil, are wrong. Allah has given us the correct way to pray and no other way is allowed in the mosque.” He then went on “I hope that in the future you will find out about our religion and become a moslem yourself. Then you will be happy in this life and afterwards you will go to Paradise.”

I thanked him and repeated that I was sorry. They offered to show me around the mosque, which is very simple with almost no ornamentation. At the back there is a balcony which is screend off with some lattice work. “That is for the women,” Ahmed explaioned, “so that they cannot be seen.” They showed me up to the balcony where there were some chairs. “The women can come here and learn about Islam,” he said. “They have a “Sheikha” to teach them,” and he laughed. I gathered that “Sheikha” is not a real word but is a sort of made-up, feminine version of Sheikh.

Then they unlocked a special room and showed me their collection of holy books.

Ahmed walked me home and we talked in a very friendly manner. His parting shot was, “You don’t want to go to the fire, do you?” I agreed that I did not!

I found the whole experience really heartwarming. They were lovely people, very warm and welcoming, but anxious to share the truth with me. It was a deeply human experience.

We sat with Jamal and Susan and in their home in Shufa. Their seven children peeped in from time to time, daring each other to go and speak to the foreigners. Jamal explained how the road to their village has literally been stolen by some Israelis who live in a nearby illegal settlement. We already knew about this, because our taxi-ride to Shufa had been interrupted by a huge earth mound and some concrete blocks in the road. We had to get out and walk the last mile up a steep hill.

This stretch of road is now solely for the use of the settlers, who use it to get to their settlement from the main road. The Israeli army will not allow Palestinians to use the road except on foot or on a donkey.

The road was built in 1950 by the Palestinians. In 1987, the Israelis built 40 houses on Palestinian land and started to share the road with the local villagers. The settlement expanded for some years, and then in 1995, the Israeli army suddenly built the earth mound and forbade the Palestinians to use the road. Now Jamal has to drive home from the school where he is the headteacher, park his car by the earth mound and walk the last mile uphill to his home. And he does this every day, in all weathers, including temperatures in the 40s in summer.

“Why?” I asked Jamal. “Why can’t they share the road with you?” Jamal had no answer. For years they had shared the road with no problem. The Israeli answer is just “Security”, but they refuse to explain what they mean by this. The only explanation that Jamal can think of is that the Israelis simply want to cause the Palestinians to suffer. Another explanation I have heard is that if someone wished to attack people in the settlement, the road would have provided an easy way of escape. But there has been only one such attack in 23 years (in 2004, during the second intifada, when a Palestinian infiltrated the settlement and shot a settler). Perhaps it’s just that the settlers feel nervous about sharing a road with people whose land they appropriated in order to build their settlement.

The stolen road has all sorts of other consequences. Jamal and Susan cannot drive to see their family in Lower Shufa, which is the other side of the earth mound. Farmers’ profits are reduced because each time they take their produce to market in Tulkarem, they need fuel for a 25 km journey instead of 6 km.

The villagers of Shufa have learnt to live with the settlers. In the past, they have been attacked by settlers during the olive harvest and settlers have destroyed hundreds of their olive trees. But they do not face the daily threat of settler violence that other Palestinians face. Life is merely uncomfortable. And nothing changes the fact that their road has been stolen. They live with this reality every day – just one more quiet, unchanging injustice.

I was at the Attil agricultural gate this morning at 5.30 am. Farmers have to go through this gate to get to their fields, which are trapped behind the Israeli separation barrier.

Today, progress was very slow at the gate – so slow that at closing time there were still eight men waiting to go through. The Israeli soldiers said that they were going to close the gate, and the men would have to wait until it opened again at 1.00 pm.

I intervened. I told the soldiers that these men had arrived in good time and it was not right to refuse them entry. The soldiers said that they (the soldiers) had to get to another gate to open it and they would be late if they stayed here. I said OK, so just let these men through. Now the soldiers claimed that they didn’t speak English. I replied that yes they DID speak English and that they knew that what they were doing was not right. They still refused.

Then I very deliberately got out my mobile phone and made a call while the soldiers watched. I rang the Red Cross to report what was happening.

After finishing the call I repeated to the soldiers that they knew that it was not right to refuse entry to these men. I’m afraid I was pretty angry by now, and it showed. (I hope the soldiers won’t take it out on the Palestinian farmers later.)

Then to my amazement, the soldiers relented and allowed the men to go through – still one by one, but much more quickly than earlier. In the end they all went through. The gate closed 15 minutes late.

Interestingly, my colleague was at the other gate to which the soldiers went next. She told me that, not only did it open almost on time, but the soldiers allowed the farmers through more quickly than usual.

A small difference for a few people. But it was good!

Local Government Under Occupation

A brief glance at the Municipality of Tulkarem, a town in the Occupied West Bank

This paper was originally going to be entitled “Democracy Under Occupation” but it seems that there is a dearth of democracy in this part of the world.

First some general background. (For a summary time-line, see Appendix 4 at the end of this paper.) In 1967 Israel occupied the West Bank, which is Palestinian territory, and has continued to occupy it ever since, contrary to international law. Since 1967 Israel has continually been building settlements on the West Bank. These are all illegal under international law. Currently half a million Jewish Israelis live in these illegal settlements on Palestinian land.

In 1993 Israel and the PLO signed the Oslo Accords which established the Palestinian National Authority (PNA or PA), a governing body for the interim period pending final status negotiations. Although the PA is not an internationally recognised independent sovereign state, it nevertheless conducts its politics along state-like lines. Furthermore, it has formal political control over a significant but highly discontinuous section of its claimed territory. The President is the highest-ranking political position (equivalent to head of state) in the PA. He/she is elected by popular elections. The president appoints the prime minister who, in turn, appoints other ministers to the PA. All these appointment have to be approved by the Palestinian Legislative Council (an elected body).

The Oslo Accords divided the West Bank into Areas A, B and C. In Area C the Israeli army is responsible for all aspects of life. In Area B, responsibilties are shared between the PA and the Israeli army. In Area A (only 17% of the area of West Bank land) everything except external security and foreign affairs is the responsibility of the PA. (See Appendix 4).

In 2003, during the second intifada (or uprising), the Israeli government began building the separation barrier between the West Bank and Israel. This runs along the internationally recognised border (Green Line) for only 20% of its length and elsewhere cuts into Palestinian territory – up to 25 km in one place. In fact 7% of West Bank land is enclosed on the Israel side of the barrier.

I am living in Tulkarem in the NW corner of the West Bank, close to the border with Israel.
The separation barrier runs along the edge of the town, mostly along the Green Line. The town is in Area A so that local government has significant powers. (This does not prevent the Israeli army from entering the town en masse whenever it feels there is a security imperative for doing so. This has happened less frequently in recent years)

Tulkarem is a town with a population of about 60,000 (including 20,000 in two refugee camps) , so the nearest comparison in the UK is probably a small, urban unitary authority. I was interested to find out how local government operates under Occupation, so I arranged a meeting with Mr Abed Al-Khaliq Jbara who is the Executive Director of Tulkarem Municipality. What follows is partly taken from the information that he kindly gave me.

The Municipality of Tulkarem was first established under the Ottomans in 1887. The town has a Mayor who, in theory, should be elected. In 2004, local elections were planned throughout the West Bank and Gaza for towns and villages of over 450 people. These were held in some areas, but the Hamas coup in Gaza intervened so that in many places, including Tulkarem, the plan never came to fruition. Elections are currently planned for everywhere in the West Bank in June. The present position in Tulkarem is that the Mayor is appointed by the PA in
negotiation with leading local families.
The Mayor then appoints the members of the Municipal Council by negotiation, which is intended to ensure a balance of important local families and political factions.

The Municipal Council has an Executive Director and has departments such as Electricity, Water and Education which provide services and infrastructure. It employs about 500 people, which is more than are needed, but employment is scarce in this area, not least because of the damage to the economy caused by the Occupation and the separation barrier.

Electricity

The “Electric Department” buys electricity from an Israeli company and resells it to the local population. No electricity is generated within the West Bank. Of course, this means that the Israeli authorities can (and occasionally do) cut off the electricity supply whenever they like.

Water

Tulkarem should be rich in water. It sits over the largest aquafer in the whole of Palestine/Israel. The Water department pumps water from this aquafer and sells it to local people. BUT – the amount of water that can be pumped out is strictly limited by the Israeli government. Israeli inspectors come from time to time to check whether the quotas have been exceeded and, if this is the case, future quotas are reduced. Furthermore, seven or eight wells on local Palestinian land have been confiscated by Israel in places where the separation barrier cuts into the West Bank. Most of the remaining local wells are old and in need of repair but the Israeli authorities will not necessarily give permits either for repairs or for digging new wells. Furthermore, even if a permit is given to dig a new well, the Israeli authorities impose a limit on the depth to which it can be dug. By contrast, Jewish wells in Israel, or in the illegal Israeli settlements on the West Bank, have no limit placed upon them. In fact 80% of water in the West Bank is taken by Israel, and on average each Israeli uses almost five times as much water as each Palestinian. A long-term plan for sharing water was one of the many things that were postponed until a later stage under the Oslo Accords. But this has not yet come to fruition.

The Budget

Most of the money used by Tulkarem Municipality comes from foreign aid, for example from the EU, the US, Arab countries and from prosperous Palesinian emigrés. (It could be argued that such aid merely serves to support and perpetuate the Occupation, but that’s another story.) It comes via the PA who offer particular infrastructure projects such as schools, roads and spare parts. The work is carried out by local people, supervised by the Municipality.

Traffic fines and a local tax on, for example, buildings, are collected centrally by the PA but only a small amount is returned to the Municipality.

The rest of the Municipality’s income comes from local charges such as those for water, sewage, electricity, building permits, licences for premises, rent, car tax, taxi licences etc. In fact many people default on payments for electricity and water. The current total debt is about 150 million shekels (£27 million) and is increasing annually. Both the Electric and Water departments are currently making a loss and there are plans to privatise both. The decision to privatise was made centrally by the Ministry of Finance of the PA, partly at the insistence of donors and partly on the Ministry’s own initiative, based on the following argument: In this part of the world, life is very much governed by family and community networks. Everybody knows, or is related to, someone on the Council. So it is easy to say to your cousin on the Council “I have a big family. I cannot pay my bill this month, but I will definitely be able to pay soon.” and the cousin will always say, “Yes of course. There is no problem.” Private companies would not have personal links with consumers and so would be able to insist that people pay in advance, in the same way that they pay for, say, internet services and cigarettes.

The Black Hole in the Budget

During the second intifada (“uprising”) in roughly 2001-2005, the Tulkarem Municipality, along with others, refused to pay the Israeli electricity company that supplies Tulkarem. Now the company is recovering the unpaid amounts from the PA Ministry of Finance who are, in turn, charging the Municipality. During the week Jan 24 to 30, 2010, for example, the amount repaid was 4 million shekels (£720,000) although in the long run the monthly amount will be about 3.5 million shekels (£650,000). All this will have to be recovered from the consumer. The Electric Department is installing 500 new meters in the hope that this will lessen the consumer debt, although in the short term, the Israeli company wants advance payment for these meters, which only adds to the problem.

The Education Department

The Mayor chairs the education committee. The department is funded by a tax on houses, but this provides insufficient income so the Municipality adds funds from the general budget. The main responsibilities of the Department are firstly to obtain land for building, and secondly maintenance. (Teachers are paid from central, PA funds). The committee is always looking for international donors to fund school building and for emigré Palestinians to donate land. Many schools are named after their benefactors. In Tulkarem there are two girls’ high schools and two boys’ high schools.

The Office of Municipal and Civil Affairs

This office coordinates between the Municipality and the Israeli authorities. It arranges meetings, largely concerning electricity supply, water and the environment. At present they are dealing with a joint Israeli-Palestinian project, funded by Germany, to build a trunk sewage pipe in the Alexander valley from Nablus, near Tulkarem, through Israel and to the Mediterranean. This project is, presumably, part of a belated attempt by Israel to bring the treatment of waste water from their settlements and from Palestinian areas up to the standard required by international law. Currently there is a huge pollution problem on the West Bank.

The Economic and Social Effects of the Separation Barrier – Divided Land and Lives

Before the war of 1948, much of the land between Tulkarem and the Mediterranean used to be linked to Tulkarem both socially and economically. But in 1948, most of this land became part of the newly established state of Israel. Many Palestinian families fled East at this time. More families fled in 1967, following the 6-day war. Hence Tulkarem is home to about 20,000 refugees (in addition to the remaining population of 40,000). In fact, 60% of the population of Tulkarem have relatives amongst the many Palestinian Israelis the other side of the border.

Despite the fact that since 1947 there has been a border between the West Bank and Israel, it was fairly easy for people from Tulkarem to pass to and from Israel and there were strong economic and social links between Tulkarem and the part of Israel just over the border. Villages close to the border on both sides had close ties with each other. Every day Israelis (including Palestinian Israelis and 400 to 500 Jewish Israelis) used to cross the border into Tulkarem to take advantage of the cheaper prices. This situation came to an end in 2003 when Israel built the separation barrier. Since then, movement has been heavily restricted. Since the Occupation of the West Bank in 1967, Israel had encouraged West Bank Palestinians to work in Israel, thus making the Palestinian economy dependent on Israel. But since 2003, West Bank Palestinians have needed permits to cross into Israel and these permits are difficult to obtain. People who have employment in Israel can get a permit to cross daily, but this involves hours of waiting in the infamous Ephraim Terminal instead of a five minute journey. (This is the place where 3000 – 5000 people queue for hours every day to cross into Israel for work.) And they are not allowed to stay the night in Israel. People with relatives in Israel can sometimes get permits but only for occasional visits. In some cases, husband and wife are separated by the barrier, with the West Bank husband allowed only occasional visits to his Palestinian Israeli wife and children in Israel.

Palestinians can only export goods via Israel, who only allow very little. They are not allowed to import machinery above a certain size, so building factories is out of the question. The economy of the West Bank, including Tulkarem, is severely limited and is heavily dependent on that of Israel and on PA salaries.

The building of the separation barrier, even where it is on the Green Line, has involved the confiscation of large quantities of Palestinian land – without compensation. The Ephraim Terminal itself is built on such land. The separation barrier has caused enormous damage to the Tulkarem economy because of the loss of land and the loss of business. Many houses near the barrier were destroyed by the Israeli army some years ago and businesses near the barrier are defunct. Thousands of local people have found work across the border, even at the cost of queueing for hours every day to pass through the Terminal.
There has recently been some damage to fencing at the terminal. The Israeli authorites initially said that it was the PA’s responsibility to repair it, ie in practice the Tulkarem Municipality’s responsibility. But, understandably, the Municipality want nothing to do with this facility which was built without their consent, on Palestinian land. In the end, the Israeli army repaired it.

A final irony under this section. A few years ago, an Israeli entrepreneur built a chemical factory near Netanya, in Israel, just across the border from Tulkarem. The pollution that it produced contravened Israeli environmental legislation. So the firm simply moved the whole factory, lock, stock and barrell, aross the border to Tulkarem in the West Bank, where of course, it doesn’t matter if you pollute the environment. Most of the time the wind blows from the West, so the noxious gases are blown away from Israel and onto the West Bank. (The smell in Tulkarem is often quite unpleasant.) On the few days when the wind is blowing East, towards Israel, the factory is closed down!

Social Work

Young people in Tulkarem grow up in an atmosphere of repression and fear. Unsurprisingly, there are many social problems but the Municipality does not have the resources to address them. There is a Tulkarem Society of Social Work Committees, staffed entirely by volunteers, who run various projects, such as youth clubs, in the town.

The Refugee Camp

The camp itself (not actually a “camp”, but crowded, poor quality housing) was built by the UN about 55 years ago. The Municipality has no resources to meet the needs of the refugees, many of whom are unemployed. But the UN funds many social projects in the camp such as classes for pregnant women. Funding for a full-time worker has recently run out and she now works voluntarily. People at the camp are particularly proud of their football team, Markaz Shabab Tulkarem, who were champions of Palestine in 2005/06. This is a semi-professional team, as is the other Tulkarem team, Thaqafi Tulkarm. Both are usually at the top, or near the top, of Palestine League Division One. Payments for players come from members’ fees and from charitable donations. There is no charge for spectators.

The Park

There is a very small park in the town, run by the Municipality. It is not well used and looks fairly neglected.

In Conclusion

Local Government in Tulkarem operates, at present, without democracy. If and when democracy is introduced, this will not change the basic fact that life is lived under Occupation and in the shadow of the barrier. The consequences are many. The Municipality exists only with the permission of Israel and its freedom of action is limited. The economy is severely damaged and resources are woefully inadequate. There is heavy dependence on foreign aid. And there is a long list of social deprivations.
Three appendices follow . . . .
Appendices on three centrally provided public services:

Appendix 1: University Lecturers

Salaries of lecturers at government universities (~ £1000 pm) are only about two thirds of those at private universities, but the government (ie the PA) pays a pension, which private universities do not. The maximum pension is 75% of salary, after 20 years’ service, and continues after death for widows, for sons up to age 18 and for daughters until they marry (!)

Appendix 2: The Fire Service.

This is run by the PA, not by local government. In Tulkarem there are two fire stations, manned by 68 men (no women) dressed in military-style uniforms with boots that shine like mirrors. They work 24 hours on, 24 hours off. Occasionally they are called to deal with a problem at the huge Ephraim Terminal. But the firemen believe that, since the Israelis built this facility, the Israelis should take responsibility when there are problems. This a vain hope, so they do sometimes turn out voluntarily.

Appendix 3: Health Services

Health services in the West Bank are not the responsibility of local government, but are delivered by four providers – the Palestinian Ministry of Health, the UN Relief and Work Agency, non-governmental organisations, and the private medical sector. There is a Ministrey of Health hospital in Tulkarem, where I am told that very few medicines are held. Patients receive a prescription and buy their medicines at any of the many pharmacies in the town.

Here is a general overview based on information published in the Lancet in March 2009.

Because of various factors, including little health-service development under the Israeli military administration between 1967 and 1993 and poor governance and mismanagement by the Palestinian Authority, current services have been unable to provide adequately for people’s needs, especially in tertiary health care. Therefore, the Palestinian Ministry of Health continues to refer patients elsewhere (Israel, Egypt, and Jordan), leading to a substantial drain on health resources.

The current Palestinian health system is made up of fragmented services that grew and developed over generations and across different regimes. During the 19th century, Christian missionaries from the western countries established some hospitals that are still operating in East Jerusalem. During the early part of the 20th century, the British Mandate expanded these services.

The 1948 Nakba (or “Catastrophe” which the Israelis call “The War of Independence”) led the UN General Assembly to establish the UN Relief and Works Agency in 1949. Since then, this agency has been delivering various key services to registered Palestinian refugees, including food aid, housing, education, and health services.

From 1967 (when Israeli occupied the West Bank and Gaza) until 1993, health services for Palestinians in the occupied Palestinian territories were neglected and starved of funds by the Israeli military administration, with shortages of staff, hospital beds, medications, and essential and specialised services, forcing Palestinians to depend on health services in Israel. For example, in 1975 the West Bank health budget was substantially lower than that of one Israeli hospital for the same year. The Palestinian response was to create independent Palestinian services through health, women’s, agricultural, and student social-action groups.

After the Oslo Accords, the Palestinian Ministry of Health was established in 1994. It inherited, from the Israeli military government, health services that had been neglected. Supported by massive funding from international donors, the ministry has since upgraded and expanded the health system infrastructure by institution building and human resource development. Donors have an influential role in determining the policy of the authority.

All these interacting factors have contributed to undermining the ability of Palestinians to build a health system from existing health services. In addition to the need for control over resources for health care, building an effective health system requires sovereignty, self-determination, authority, and control over land, water, the environment, and movement of people and goods, all of which are relevant for the protection and promotion of health. The international community has not appreciated the degree to which the Palestinian National Authority is “less than a state, yet expected to act like a state”.

Because of the current political and contextual constraints, no comprehensive agenda for improving health and services in the occupied Palestinian territory can be outlined with any confidence.

Appendix 4: Summary Time-Line

1948 British withdrawal from Palestine, followed by the War of Independence or “Nakba” (Catastrophe). Establishment of the State of Israel. Millions of Palestinians flee to the West Bank, Gaza and other countries. Jordan assumes control of the West Bank.

1967 Six-day war. Israel occupies the West Bank and Gaza and the Israeli government begins building settlements in these territories. (These settlements are illegal under international law.)

1993 Oslo Accords signed. PA set up. West Bank areas A, B, C agreed as follows .

Area % of WB land % of WB Palestinians Responsibility
A 17% 55% PA responsible for all except external security and foreign affairs, which come under the Israeli army.
B 24% 41% Responsibilties shared between the PA and Israeli army
C 59% 4% Israeli army responsible for all aspects of life

2003 Israel begins building the separation barrier, following the outbreak of the second intifada in 2001/2002.

Peter Balaam
15/03/2010

I work for Quaker Peace and Social Witness as an Ecumenical Accompanier serving on the World Council of Churches’ Ecumenical Accompaniment Programme in Palestine and Israel (EAPPI). The views contained in this email are personal and do not necessarily reflect those of my employer (QPSW) or the WCC. If you would like to publish the information contained here (including posting it on a website) or distribute it further, please first contact the QPSW Programme Manager for Israel/OPT (teresap@quaker.org.uk) for permission. Thank you.

Stone-throwing, tear gas, sound bombs, soldiers everywhere and young boys arrested. New experiences for me, but nothing unusual in Hebron. Yesterday I joined the Hebron EAPPI team for a three day visit and I found myself witnessing a situation of open conflict. Some young boys were throwing stones at soldiers. None of the stones actually fell anywhere near their targets and the soldiers remained calm and unmoved. To me there was a very sad aspect to it all. It all seemed like a game. The boys were just enjoying themselves in the customary manner. They didn’t really appreciate that they were risking serious consequences – possible imprisonment for themselves or escalation into serious violence, and even death, on the street.

Later, there was an “Open Shuhada Street” demonstration (see below) when protesters attempted to enter Shuhada Street. Soldiers barred the way and the protesters stood there for an extended period. Sadly, despite the non-violent nature of the protest, the soldiers fired tear gas bombs (rub an onion under your eyes – it works!) and arrested one man. All day, under the watchful eye of TV and many other cameras, soldiers had not arrested any young boys. But later, when most people had departed, we were just in time to witness the arrest of three boys who looked about 13 or 14. The soldiers refused to speak to us, but I imagine the boys had been throwing stones. The mother of one of the boys is Leila, a good friend of the team here. She has not seen her son since his arrest and she will not be allowed to see him for some time. Apparently a lawyer is acting for him, but even with a request for bail, he is likely to be held for several days, and maybe weeks.

Today, after prayers at the mosque, there was a rather more serious disturbance, with older boys throwing stones. The army responded with tear gas, sound bombs and sudden dashes into the crowd. At least one man was arrested. We watched and photographed, and on one occasion we darted behind a door for cover. We were not in any danger, but our brief is to stay on the outside of any disturbances. After an hour or so, when the rain began to fall, people faded away.

Why does this happen in Hebron in particular?

This is a lovely city with huge problems. Historically it was shared by Palestinians and Jews, and relations were generally good. Sadly, this began to change and in 1929 there was an awful massacre, in which the whole Jewish community was murdered. It was not until 1967, when Israel occupied the West Bank, including Hebron, that Jews began to return here. Settlers began to move into the centre of the city, protected by the Israeli army. Sadly their attitude was aggressive. They believed that Hebron is first and foremost a Jewish town with its roots in Biblical times and that the Palestinians have no right to be here, although they have lived here for centuries. Since 1967 the settlers have terrorised the neighbouring Palestinians and have driven many out of their homes. In addition, the Israeli army has closed Shuhada Street, the main shopping area, in order to provide “protection” for the settlers who live nearby. 1865 businesses have been closed. Now Hebron is home to 200,000 Palestinians, 500 Israeli settlers and 2000 soldiers whose main function is to protect the settlers.

There are daily provocations by settlers. Ancient vine trees have been cut down. Children are physically attacked on their way to school. Palestinian movement is restricted by about 100 checkpoints. Some settlers living on the first floor just throw their rubbish out of the windows and Palestinian people have had to fix up some netting to catch it. (See attached photo.) Other examples of harrassment could be multiplied.

One huge source of contention is the Tomb of the Patriarchs, the traditional burial place of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and their wives. This is marked by a huge building which is called the Al-Ibrahami mosque by moslems and is the site of the 1994 Goldstein massacre of 39 moslems. Since 1994, only half the building has been used as a mosque while the other half is a synagogue. On Feb 21, Israeli Prime minister Netanyahu declared that the building was to become a Jewish heritage site. This caused understandable anger on the part of Palestinians, who feared they were going to lose the use of this most holy of sites. Fortunately, under pressure from America, Netanyahu has since stated that there had been a “misunderstanding” and that both communities will continue to have access to the building. But this was too late to prevent the disturbances which I have witnessed this week.

What are my overall impressions? Firstly there is the sadness I mentioned above – kids are playing at violence. Secondly, what a tragedy that the Jewish settlers are unable to view Hebron as a place to be shared rather than as a prize to be won. Perhaps in view of the history, this is an impossible dream. Local Palestinians say that their forefathers lived happily with the Jews but that the current Jewish settlers do not want to live together with Palestinians, they want to oust them from the city altogether. Thirdly (as I have said before) one huge impression is that the whole situation is crazy. For the sake of 500 aggressive, intolerant people, 200,000 people live in a constant state of tension, with violence just around the corner. 2000 soldiers protect 500 settlers, at huge expense and at the risk of conflict and death. (A Palestinian man was shot dead here a week ago.) Sad, tragic and crazy. This is Hebron under occupation.

Peter Balaam
26 Feb 2010

PS The full story of Hebron can be found at http://www.acri.org.il/pdf/ghosttown.pdf

I work for Quaker Peace and Social Witness as an Ecumenical Accompanier serving on the World Council of Churches’ Ecumenical Accompaniment Programme in Palestine and Israel (EAPPI). The views contained in this email are personal and do not necessarily reflect those of my employer (QPSW) or the WCC. If you would like to publish the information contained here (including posting it on a website) or distribute it further, please first contact the QPSW Programme Manager for Israel/OPT (teresap@quaker.org.uk) for permission. Thank you.

Bakair Zaben drove us to Naslat Isa, his sleepy little village. He hasn’t always been a taxi driver; he used to own a successful furniture business. Naslat Isa hasn’t always been a sleepy little village; it used to be bustling market town. What has happened?

The Wall.

One day in September 2003, at four o’clock in the morning, Bakair Zaben was asleep on the roof of his house, when he was awakened by the sound of an engine. He went out to find a bulldozer about to demolish his furniture shop. An Israeli army officer told him he had one hour to remove all his stock from the shop.

“One hour! You must be crazy,” said Bakair. “I have more than 3000 pieces.”

“Not my problem,” replied the officer.

Bakair rounded up his friends and family and they began frantically removing what they could from the shop. After an hour, they were not finished and several items had been damaged. But in came the bulldozer. Finish. Within five hours, 170 shops and businesses had been demolished in Naslat Isa. This was to clear a space near to the Separation Barrier, the Wall which the Israelis were about to build.

When the Wall was finished, it cut through houses and streets, dividing the twin villages of Nazlat Isa and Baqa Al-Ghabiya from each other. Neighbours could no longer pop next door. Grandchildren could no longer visit their grandparents. Israelis could no longer cross the border to shop. Businesses, like Bakair Zaben’s, were destroyed. 600 family incomes disappeared.

Since occupying the West Bank in 1967, the Israeli government had encouraged people on the West Bank to seek work in Israel, thus making the Palestinian economy increasingly dependent on Israel. In 2003, 99% of the men in Naslat Isa worked in Israel. Now overnight they were denied access to their employment. Today, only about 4% of men from Naslat Isa brave the infamous Ephraim Terminal to work in Israel and this is a two hour commute instead of two minutes.

Before 2003, merchants from all over the West Bank used to come to Naslat Isa to sell their wares to both Palestinians and Israelis. In 2003 many of their businesses were destroyed and the others lost many of their customers. Today Naslat Isa is full of rubble and closed shops.

And life is diminished. People in Naslat Isa need to obtain special permits to visit their relatives across the Wall, in Israel, and these permits are available only for special occasions. To obtain a permit to go to a wedding, the invitation needs to be produced. To go to a funeral, documentary proof of the death is necessary. Israeli Palestinians can come more freely to Naslat Isa but it takes two hours, and many are afraid of being followed by Israeli security. So they don’t come; they just speak on the ’phone.

Bakair Zaben has not seen his great-aunt since 2003. He was unable to attend his neice’s wedding. A neighbour’s aunt was dying. She was allowed to visit, but she had to take the long route, taking two hours. No humanitarian allowance was made.

The Separation Barrier has not only brought demolition and division, but also diminution. Life for Bakair Zaben has shrunk. The Wall has cut deep.

Bersim lives in the tiny Palestinian village of Tawayel, near to Aqraba on the West Bank. He has 10 children, but if you ask him how many grandchildren he has, he laughs because he has no idea at all! We met two of his grandchildren – beautiful, identical twin boys, aged about two, who obviously love their Grandpa very much.

But Bersim and his family live under a great black cloud. Last Sunday four Israeli army jeeps drew up outside his house and the soldiers demanded to speak to him. They presented him with a paper which stated that his house was going to be demolished. “This is Israeli land,” they said, “and we want to see no Palestinians here.” They explained that the army has designated the area around Tawayel as a military training area, so all local housing has to be demolished. They also stated that the house was built without a permit, although Bersim knows from experience that permits are impossible to obtain. “And you will have to pay for the hire of the bulldozer too,” the soldiers added, as they gave him similar papers to distribute to his neighbours. “You can live in the caves,” the soldiers went on. Some Palestinians in this area do in fact build houses around caves. Nevertheless, this is a deeply offensive suggestion and, as Bersim pointed out, it is also wholly unrealistic given the large size of his family.

Tawayel is in “Area C” which means that, even though it is not part of Israel, it is controlled entirely by the Israeli army. They can (and do) do whatever they like. This is the reality of Occupation. Nearby Israeli settlements are permitted, or rather encouraged, to build, but not Palestinians.

Bersim, and his father before him, have grown wheat and kept sheep on their land here for many years. But sadly, demolition is no new experience for Bersim. It has happened three times before, in 2007, 2008 and 2009 and each time he and his family have rebuilt their homes, living in tents in the meantime.

Bersim has engaged a Palestinian lawyer to fight his case in the Israeli High Court. This will cost 30 000 shekels (£5500). 10 000 shekels will be found by the local community in Aqraba. The remaining 20 000 shekels will be provided by the lawyer, who has access to funds for such cases. He also has links with an Israeli lawyer who may be able to help.

House demolitions are only one form of harrassment suffered by Bersim and his neighbours. Wheat has been burnt. Sheep have been taken and a “ransom” of 55 shekels per sheep demanded. A friend’s tractor was removed and 5000 shekels was demanded for its return. Last year Bersim’s wife single-handedly prevented soldiers from removing their tractor.

Bersim’s two little grandsons know nothing of politics, but even at their tender age they have already experienced the heavy hand of Israeli occupation. And there seems every prospect that they will experience it again and again in the future.

Beauty and the Beast

I have just returned from a wonderful walk in the hills around the tiny village of Yanoun where I am on a three day visit with the EAPPI team here. The scenery is spectacular, very reminiscent of the Yorkshire Dales. Rolling hills, limestone pavements, clints, scars, ancient dry-stone walls and a herd of deer. Plus the added bonus of a view of the Jordan valley and even the Jordan river itself. On good days, one can see the Dead Sea. Closer to hand there are gorgeous wild flowers, including bright red anemones and delicate pink orchids. With Joiakim, my Norwegian colleague, I visited the (supposed) grave of Nun, the father of Joshua. We visited a local farmer who was milking his sheep. His wife was baking and she gave us some utterly delicious bread, straight out of the oven. We sat on the floor and drank a glass of Palestinian tea, (fairly weak with plenty of sugar but no milk and flavoured with a mint leaf). Their son offered us some hashish to smoke(!) Regretfully, we refused. Soon we made our leisurely way back through the olive groves and up the hill to the simple, cosy team house where our colleagues welcomed us with a tasty supper.

An idyllic day. But . . .

On the surrounding hilltops various constructions mar the landscape. Watchtowers, animal sheds, gas containers, floodlights, caravans. These are “outposts” of the Israeli settlement, Itamar, about seven miles away. They are home to a number of Israeli settlers who, since 1996, have made life extremely difficult for the villagers of Yanoun. They even drove the villagers out completely in 2002 until Israeli peace activists, followed by the EAPPI presence, enabled them to return. They have appropriated many of the villagers’ fields and they have established “no-go areas”. Rashid, the village mayor, told me how a man from Yanoun wandered into one of these areas only three weeks ago. That night, at 3 o’clock in the morning, Israeli soldiers arrived in the village, with one of the settlers, and dragged all the men of the village out of their homes. They said that the settler had seen a man on his land who “had the intention of stealing his sheep” and they threatened them with dire consequences if this happened again.

For years, the settlers have gradually encroached on Yanouni fields, taking one field after another. The Yanounis are powerless to stop this process because the Israeli soldiers see their main duty as supporting the settlers, in spite of the Geneva Convention which states that the job of an occupying army is to protect civilians in the occupied territory. The Yanounis dare not venture near the settlers’ areas, but the settlers feel free to walk through Yanoun whenever they please, armed with machine guns. Sometimes they stop to climb down a 20 metre ladder in order to bathe in the village well. There is a long history of settler violence, and even murder, against the villagers. The full story can be read in “Living With Settlers” by Thomas Mandal .

These settlers are people who believe passionately that God has given them the whole of the land of Palestine. It is the “Promised Land” first won by Ancient Israel under Joshua’s leadership, but lost for 2000 years. Now, with a supposed mandate from God, it is gradually being regained by violence and intimidation against the Palestinian people who have lived there for hundreds of years.

Settlements and outposts are both both illegal under international law because they are not in Israel, but are in occupied Palestinian territory. Under Israeli law, settlements are legal, but outposts are not. Nevertheless, in disputes with local Palestinian people, the Israeli army always sides with the settlers from the outposts. The Israeli government appears to be fully behind this process of “land-grab” although its rhetoric is frequently about “curbing settlement expansion”.

So my idyllic stay in the limestone hills was strangely unreal. Surrounded by beauty, yet always conscious of the menacing presence around me. Ironically, the unchanging, rugged, biblical landscape is the context for acute insecurity. When will they come into our village again? Will they attack us? Which field will they take from us next?

I am able to walk away and return to my comfortable home. But the villagers of Yanoun live every day with uncertainty and fear. Most of us in the West are generally oblivious to the fact that one nation is insidiously and inexorably stealing the land of a neighbouring people. Who will stand up for these people?