We committed to help
harvest olives, at the boys school we were met and told how to walk
up to the orchard. When we crossed the road three soldiers stopped us
and asked for our passports, we both said we did not have them. Were
then asked for some ID, I showed my drivers license, Mopsie said he
had none. We were told it is the law that foreigners are required to
carry their passports at all times. Then the soldiers said we could
not continue up to pick olives, while this area is open to
picking olives, no Israelis and no foreigners are allowed to pick,
only Palestinians. We were told that the reason we were no allowed is
that “tourists make a mess and cause disruptions.” Mopsie
asked,¨who told you this? They lied to you.¨ We continued our
objection saying ¨we were asked to help pick by the very farmers you
say are allowed to pick.¨ They asked us how long we were in Israel,
where we had been and, what we had been doing. After much back and
forth the soldiers called their commander. We used this waiting time
to build connection with the solider. I talked to them about their
weapons (I know them and several previous versions of them from my
time in the military). In the process I deliberately touched their
weapons and found reason to touch the soldiers themselves. At one
point one of the soldiers said his weapons, his jeep, everything even
his boots were American. I think we did succeed in gaining some level
of connection with them. (It is interesting that all the weapons
have bright orange devises in the breach to assure they are on safety
and don´t have a round in the chamber.)
A portly man in a
white or light blue shirt with epaulets arrived from the settlement in
a white pick-up truck – their commander. He informed us that this
area was a close military zone and that during these 3 days farmers
who owned land there (they had a list) were allowed in to harvest
their olives. Mopsie asked to see this law. They brought out a note
book and showed us a map of the area with the picking areas outlined
on it and a series of “orders.” The “orders” were in Hebrew
and Arabic but not English. Mopsie asked if we could copy them which
they said we could. The commander offered us a larger map to copy
and said we could not copy the smaller one because it has the names
and numbers of the Palestinians who are allowed in each area, which
he said was private information.
After we copied the orders (which
were not signed) and map, he again informed us that it was the rule
that we were not allowed. I said I understand that but I have to tell
you why I think that is unfair. He said there is no point arguing. I
said I understand that and I am not arguing, I just need to tell you
how I feel. I told him something to the effect that as a farmer
myself I know that when the crop is ripe you need to harvest it and
harvest it then. I am used to dropping all other projects when it is
time to harvest. Therefore I feel it is wrong to deny a farmer a
little extra help at harvest time. If they can't get their crops in
on time they will lose them. Then we procrastinated and slowed the
process of leaving, I tried calling various people. Mopsie did other
stuff, just delaying leaving. I sensed the commander walking over
behind me I kept my head down assuming he was going to demand we
leave. Instead he said he had called his commander and gotten
permission for us to pick. But he said this permission was just for
the 2 of us and just for today – tomorrow would be a new question.
I thanked him and shook his hand (probably the third or fourth time
I had shaken his hand during this encounter). I did it to build
human connection, Mopsie felt I should not have because it was
agreeing with his saying that he was not giving us permission to pick
tomorrow.
While we were
picking another half dozen of our group showed up, the soldiers
stopped them. Once again their commander came down in the white
pickup (I should note when ever he got out of the pickup he had to
reach back in and get his weapon to carry slung over his shoulder).
Had a shorter conversation than we had and then were allowed came up
to join us with the same admonition that this permission was just for
today and just for them.
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| Our friends talking to the soldierś commander |
While we were
picking 4 boarder guards showed up. They chatted with the farmers.
It was obvious to me the guards were chatting, but the farmers knew
they had to engage in the conversation. It even seemed the guards
were telling the farmers how to farm. At 3:30 the guards returned to
said we all had to leave the orchard – the permission ends at 4PM.
Given that 3 days
was not enough time for them to harvest the olives, delayed us, their
helpers, getting to the orchard for 45min and now chased us out of
the orchard at 3:30 was further shortening the harvest time. Even
though time for the harvest was of the essence the farmers were
insistent the that we stop for coffee, for tea and, for a wonderful
lunch.
These olives were
riper than ones we had picked before, and more of them had fallen to
the ground. It is worth noting that the Palestinian farmers had
permission to pick their olives. Then a settler ran in to a small
boy (hit-and-run) by the Huwarra check point. In response to this no
settler was arrested, instead the occupying army postponed the permit
for Palestinians to pick 10 days.
Curiously the
farmers talked to the Border Guards who told them that we, the
internationals, should come tomorrow by crossing the main road to the
East, out of sight of the Army, and come up the long way around and
that way we would avoid the Army – we wondered if this was some
bureaucratic competition or some trap. The next day we did make it in
that way.
The occupying Army
had 3 to 5 jeeps in the olive orchards each day. The occupying
Border Police had 2 to 7 jeeps in the orchard each day, stating from
an hour before anyone was allowed in.
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| view across the valley from were we picked a settlement is on top of hill above Burin |
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