Other posts from Palestine
Since our last update, Maria and I have traveled from Hebron to Jerusalem and spent a few days in the old city. We then spent a week in Budapest (I was mostly sick 🙁), and last night we made it back to Seattle after 413 days on the road!
We are processing our time in Palestine and will continue to share stories and reflections from our experience. In this update, I wanted to share something that our fellow volunteer, Sarah, wrote about contrasting ways to understand power.
Sarah’s update discusses Issa Amro. Issa is a truly amazing person with an incredible story. I’d highly encourage you to read this NY Times profile of Issa ( nytimes.com | PDF ).
Yesterday we planned to visit a CPT friend in the Palestinian neighborhood of Tel Rumeida, in Hebron. As the neighborhood is surrounded by settlements, it is highly restricted and the people who live there are cutoff from everyone else in the city. The CPT friend was preparing a meal for us as we headed for the checkpoint, and this time Christian and I were the lead “tourists” with Tarteel as our “guide.” The three of us were buzzed through the turnstile and came face to face with two soldiers standing on the other side of a fence. Tarteel explained who we were, and Christian and I handed over our passports.
They asked where we were from. They asked who we voted for in the election. Then they told me to unlock my phone and give it to them. I wasn’t sure what to do. Tarteel, Christian and I looked at one another, communicating with our eyes. She is a small woman with a strong presence and tried to pivot the conversation, but shortly I did have to comply. The soldier opened my pictures, scrolled for just a few seconds and said, no. No, you’re not coming in here. Tarteel asked him why. He said, because I said so.
Our host and her meal were still waiting, so our guides made a new plan. We hiked up a hill, cut into a small olive grove, and slipped through a hole in the fence. We cut across a school courtyard full of students, middle/high school age, who expressed varying degrees of excitement about the foreigners walking through. A hundred yards up the street we found that the door we had planned to go through was now barricaded. As we discussed what to do, we noticed another soldier who was watching us closely. We stopped at archaeological ruins on the hilltop, pretending interest as he monitored our movements and rode back and forth past us on an electric scooter, an obvious act of intimidation. We eventually decided to leave as there was no other way to get to our destination. It was a great disappointment; even so the CPT team modeled dignity under pressure and graciousness in a situation of total uncertainty.
Today we returned to the restricted area to visit a well-known Palestinian activist named Issa Amro, this time led by a British activist named Mark and without Palestinian CPTers. We came in through a different gate, but as we tried to head up the hill inside of the checkpoint, a soldier called out: No, you’re not going up there. Turn around. We backtracked and hiked up a set of stairs through the cemetery to a spring and onto a dusty trail that winds past olive trees and razor wire, eventually coming to a house with an unobstructed view overlooking Hebron. But the house and its occupants are not free. Issa Amro is surrounded on every side by settlers and his every movement is monitored by cameras trained on his house. The round-the-clock surveillance is designed to keep him on edge, and he knows that any misstep will have consequences for his health and safety.
The power in this situation seems to flow in one direction, but sitting on the patio under very old olive trees, tea in hand, Issa reminded us that there is another way to understand power, besides the common frame of hierarchy, dominance, control.
He talked about being ready to be arrested, detained, even killed for the work of freedom. The threats do not deter me. He spoke with confidence about being on the right side of history, saying there isn’t a switch to fix the situation; this is long-term. He spoke about his steadfast belief in nonviolence as a principle and moral for all: If we use violence to get our freedom, the violence will stay in our community. Power, not by soldiers, or guns, or checkpoints, but deep moral conviction, unwavering dignity, unshakable belief in freedom, and global solidarity.
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