Uprooting the Olive Tree

by Lloyd Philip Johnson

  “No! I can’t believe it! What will we do? We have no other source of income!”

  Faisal sighed. “I don’t know. I’m tired of fighting them. This may be the end of us.”

  “No, my dear.” Almas walked over to her husband and hugged him. “We need help. Rafiq and Farah in Genger must be back now from Najid’s wedding in America. Living in Israel, they may know what we can do to fight this.”

  “All right, you give them a call. I’m too weary.”

  ***

  Rafiq answered the phone, hearing their longtime friend Almas express her dismay at their sudden news. He put aside his newspaper. “I’m so sorry to hear this. Put Faisal on the line so he can read exactly what the demolition order says.”

  Faisal read the plain statement of the orchard demolition and takeover of his land within a month. Because he did not have the proper documents of ownership and use, it was declared to be state land, owned by Israel. No mention of appeal possibilities. “It looks like it’s going to happen, just like other Palestinians have experienced.” He sighed. “I guess it’s our turn now.”

  Rafiq heard the discouragement and fatigue in Faisal’s voice. “We need a family council, Faisal. Farah and I will come. I’m going to call Sami to come from Haifa. He has been studying Israeli law in one of his classes at the university. Also Najid and Ashley are back, now in Bethlehem. Najid always has good judgment. I’ll find out whether they can come as well. Could you put us all up for a night or two?”

  “Of course, my friend. We can always use the little house where workers sometimes sleep. We would like you to come. We don’t know what to do.”

  ***

  Najid pondered the phone call from his father. They had been in touch just briefly since arriving in Israel. Faisal and Almas needed their help, and it was interesting that Ashley knew them from her previous visit. She wanted to go, but they hated to leave Bethlehem the day after Ali had been kidnapped by the soldiers. They had tried to contact the Israelis to find out where they had taken Ali, but to no avail. The curfew had ended with daybreak. Saleh sought out friends in Bethlehem who told him to wait. It could be four days before they knew anything. At that time Ali could be charged with something or be placed in administrative detention without charges and held for up to six months. They mentioned that hundreds of children occupied Israeli prisons, most in Israel proper where Palestinian families could not visit.

  Ashley wept with Jamilah and prayed with her several times during the day of Ali’s abduction. Najid imagined him terrified, wanting his parents. The stories of stripping children of their clothes, abuse, and other forms of torture were horrific.

  Fatima too seemed discouraged. “What can we do? Nothing. We don’t even know where his is. We can’t see him. While Ali suffers we wait and have no power of appeal to their sense of fairness or to their law.”

  Ashley nodded. “Hard to imagine a civilized country doing this. A democracy taking children to prison and even worse, with no evidence or charges. Why do we never hear these things at home in America?”

  Najid waited to let Ashley’s question linger in the air. That was part of the tragedy—the one country in the world that could do something about this looked the other way.

  CHAPTER 14

  In bed that first night after Ali disappeared in the Jeep, Najid gazed at his wife. She had listened to Fatima and Ali’s parents tell of the adventures of Ali, always up to some project at school or home. It seemed to help them to have her laugh and weep with them. Her eyes still red only reinforced his love for her.

  “Sweetheart, you have done all you can so far and been a great help to Fatima and her family. And we should continue to support them in any way we can. But Faisal and Almas need us to stand with them as well. Isn’t this why we came back here to the Holy Land?”

  “So what are you proposing?”

  “That we take Fatima with us to Zabuda tomorrow. That would give her a break from the helplessness she feels and let her concentrate on assisting others. We can keep in touch with her family by phone. The police or IDF are supposed to be contacting them to let them know where Ali is and when he will have to appear in court.”

  “Hmm … I’ll talk to Fatima in the morning. She’d have to take leave from her job at the college.” Ashley sighed. “Good night, my sweet.” With that, the exhausted newlyweds fell asleep in each other’s arms in the home of their friends.

  ***

  The college administrator encouraged Fatima to take a few days off after learning of Ali’s arrest. She wrestled with leaving her parents alone in the shock, but they assured her they were okay and that it would be good for her to get away for a bit with Ashley and Najid.

  “I’ve talked to my parents, Najid, and they want me to get away for a few days. They have friends here who will continue to help as they can. There is really nothing we can do now to find Ali until we hear from the Israelis. So yes, I’ll come with you. Normally I would be excited about a trip up north with you both. So maybe looking at someone else’s problems will help me deal with my own.”

  “It will be great to have you with us, Fatima. You and your family have been in my heart for two years now,” Ashley said. “Perhaps Najid’s family can be of help to you as well. They do live in Israel as you know, although we will be staying with Faisal and Almas in the West Bank.”

  ***

  Driving toward Jenin through the steep, narrow road overlooking the Jordan Valley, Fatima explained the route to Ashley. “Sorry my being with you makes you drive the back roads. At least you’ll know what it’s like to be Palestinian. We can’t go directly on the paved highway through Jerusalem. With all the new settlements around the city, and by extending the large one, Male Adumim, they are close to dividing the West Bank into two parts. So we may not be allowed to drive north at all in the future.”

  Ashley shook her head. “It seems so unfair, this military occupation that can take children and land at will from Palestinians. But let’s enjoy the scenes here. It looks like the olive harvest is on now in October.”

  “It is the time when families gather to spread sheets on the ground, shake the trees, and collect the olives. You can see them there gathered around the trees. It is our big crop and ends with the Olive Harvest Festival every year in early November not too far from where we are going, outside Jenin.”

  Najid smiled as they began to talk about his country instead of the tragic events of yesterday.

  “Fatima, you’ll meet two friends, Rafiq, Najid’s father, and also Faisal, both Palestinian Christians and expert orchardists growing olives and fruit. Rafiq and Farah, Najid’s mother, have visited Faisal and Jamila fairly often as good friends over many years. But the Zabuda family cannot return the visits into Israel of course, since they live in the West Bank.”

  “Yes.” Fatima shrugged. “Unless they could get a permit.”

  “And you’re going to meet Sami,” Najid added, “my brother. He’s studying at the university in Haifa, taking classes in Israeli law. So Papa wanted him to help us figure out what Faisal can do to fight the demolition order.”

  ***

  As they drove on, Fatima seemed unusually quiet—not her normal animation. She looked beautiful in her gray hijab and understandably sad. Ashley sensed her own deep sorrow for Ali and the family. Perhaps this is what it meant to bear another’s burdens. Isn’t this why she and Najid came back, to be with those who are suffering because of the military occupation of their country?

  Her thoughts turned to Jerusalem, to Rabbi Cohen who had told them that the Torah spoke of loving your neighbor—not persecuting him. And others like David, the young Jewish guide who risked his life trying to find her at night during her kidnapping in the Muslim Quarter of the Old City. What would they think of soldiers arresting children? Their government acting against the principles of Judaism, which is all about welcoming the stranger among them, treating him as one of their own? What would the Jewish man of Galilee think if he were here today, the one who
welcomed little children.

  She and Najid would have to postpone their search for a place to live in East Jerusalem. That could wait as long as friends were in difficulty.

  CHAPTER 15

  The several checkpoints along the narrow highway in the West Bank had become routine. One at a small, cinder-block building, Israeli soldiers armed, standing outside, and one inside gazing through the window appearing bored. They looked in the car, the trunk, under the hood, and then inspected their passports. Najid’s indicated his Palestinian heritage, Fatima’s from Bethlehem, and Ashley’s US document. That usually provoked further questions, which Najid handled calmly. Each stop added a few minutes to their journey.

  Approaching Zabuda along a gravel road leading to the village, they approached an Israeli-armored car with three soldiers standing by the roadside indicating another stop.

  Najid sighed. “Another flying checkpoint. They just park anywhere on the road and call it a checkpoint so we have to stop. Again.”

  “Get out of the car and wait by the side of the road,” a young soldier ordered Najid in English, gazing in the side window at Ashley.

  “Why?” Najid inquired in Hebrew. He had reached his limit of patience but knew anything he said could mean a longer wait, or worse. “Here are our documents!” He handed them to the soldier. “We have been through several checkpoints and will be late getting to our destination.”

  “Out of the car!” the soldier shouted in Hebrew, taking the passports.

  Najid shrugged, opened the car door, and moved toward another soldier to shut the door. “We give the orders and will tell you if you can pass. Stay there.”

  While the soldiers began to inspect their documents, Najid walked around the car to the side of the road. Ashley and Fatima joined him as the soldiers began to inspect the car, looking everywhere inside and under it. Then they conferred with each other.

  Ashley looked at them intently. “Is this what you do to your fellow citizen of Israel?”

  They ignored her, but one noticed Najid had walked around the car to the side of the road.

  “Didn’t I tell you to stay there?”

  “I needed to move out of the highway.”

  “You’ll be here for a while. Sit down.”

  “Can’t the women wait in the car?”

  “Yes, but you stay where you are on the roadside.”

  One of the soldiers put a telephone to his ear for several minutes. Then hanging up, he strolled back to their armored car and motioned for his two comrades to get in it after him.

  Ashley spoke quietly though the car window, “What are they doing, Najid?”

  “Just showing us they are in charge.”

  “You mean by keeping us waiting?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How long will we have to wait?”

  “We could be here for an hour or more.”

  Ashley turned to see Fatima nod her head. “Have you been through this before?”

  “Many times,” Fatima replied. “We just try to guess how many checkpoints we have to pass through and plan to add time to our trip depending on how many. We don’t measure our trips in kilometers. It’s how many checkpoints.”

  “So here we sit, with Najid hurting on the side of the road, Fatima. What did we do wrong?”

  “Nothing. These young soldiers have the authority that comes with a gun, and there is nothing we can do about it. Just like arresting Ali.”

  “How can they do these things and sleep at night? Do they have no sense of right and wrong?”

  Fatima raised her hands with a shrug while Najid shook his head.

  Her watch moved slowly until finally they could continue their journey after two hours of waiting with Najid sitting on the gravel by the roadside.

  CHAPTER 16

  Ashley remembered the lane leading to Faisal and Almas’ bungalow, the scent of orchards and soil, their old Ford Pinto in front, and the towering concrete wall behind the house. Its darkness contrasted with the beaming older couple who rushed out to welcome Najid and Ashley.

  “Come in,” they insisted, ushering the three travelers into a small living room with one sofa and several well-worn upholstered chairs, reminding Ashley of her grandparents’ home.

  Speaking in Arabic, Najid translating for Ashley, they greeted their guests. Ashley introduced Fatima who returned the greeting and then remained quiet. “Fatima is a friend of mine from two years ago. We met at the Bethlehem Bible College.”

  Almas looked startled, raising her eyebrows, then smiled. “I’m so pleased to meet you. We’re Christians from many generations. I … I don’t understand. Your hijab tells me you are Muslim, but you are at …?”

  Fatima smiled for the first time on the trip and completed Almas’s question. “The Bible College. Yes, I’m graduating next June but also working there.”

  “But isn’t that a Christian school?”

  At that instant, a banging on the front door startled everyone. Fatima screamed and turned pale. Faisal took a quick look out the window and then rushed to open the door. In bounced a younger edition of Najid, swarthy, of medium height, grinning while sweating and breathing hard. Sami Haddad started to hug his brother when he saw Ashley.

  He turned to greet her in English. “You look great after the wedding and honeymoon. Why did you scream? It was just me.”

  “Just because you created such noise.” Ashley winked at Fatima.

  “I ran here from Zabuda town. Good exercise since I’ve been sitting in classes too much and now on the bus from Haifa. Just got excited to be back with all of you.”

  Sami greeted Faisal and Almas, and then noticed Fatima, standing back behind the host couple. “And who is this?”

  Ashley quickly answered, “Sami, this is my good friend Fatima, from Bethlehem. And, Fatima, this is Sami, Najid’s younger brother who generally causes trouble.”

  Sami laughed, turning to Fatima who had a hint of a smile and nodded. “Ashley tells lies, don’t you think? But I’m pleased to meet you, Fatima.” Wheeling around to Almas, he inquired in Arabic, “Where are my parents?”

  “They are probably delayed at the checkpoint,” Almas replied. “Israeli Palestinians are having more trouble entering the West Bank since the protests began over the death of our three boys in the refugee camp near Jenin.”

  “I sailed through this time with no delay at a checkpoint. I don’t know why.”

  ***

  Rafiq and Farah finally arrived, greeting their hosts, Fatima, and Sami along with the newlyweds. They turned to their friends of many years. “We’re so sorry to hear the news of the demolition order,” Rafiq said. Farah nodded.

  Ashley gazed at the two older couples. Good friends of many tumultuous years, both graying, slightly stooped from the effects of a hard life under Israeli restrictions, living for periods of time as young people in refugee camps. Both men had been imprisoned in Israeli jails during their teen years. Najid had told Ashley of their stories and now translated for her the Arabic conversation. I’m going to have to learn Arabic, she thought.

  “We appreciate your support,” Faisal replied. “Please sit down.”

  Almas served tea followed by a variety of salads, including Ashley’s favorite beet one. Then came the lamb kebabs with vegetables and pita bread. Everyone seemed to enjoy each other’s stories as the afternoon progressed into early evening around the Arabic coffee that followed. After dinner the discussion turned to the problem of the demolition order to take Faisal and Almas’ farm from them.

  “We don’t know what to do in the thirty days before this is going to happen. It’s so discouraging to think of losing everything we have built up over a generation. The olives and fruit are our livelihood. We just finished the olive harvest.”

  “That’s why we are here, Faisal, to think with you and Farah about what you might do,” Rafiq replied. “Tell us all the story of the farm.”

  “We’ve had it for years. My grandfather bought it sometime in the ’30s. We have
a few documents from that British Mandate time, before the Nakba of 1948. He didn’t seem to have a title deed since then, during Jordanian control. Then after the ’67 war, and the beginning of the Israeli occupation, we continued farming the orchard of olives and fruit trees but didn’t live on the farm.”

  “But you do now—across the wall,” Rafiq said.

  “Yes. Almas and I built this house on the edge of the orchard fifteen years ago. I have tax records dating back about twenty years. The olive trees are at least fifty years old. We planted additional trees, almonds and mostly apricots.”

  “So when did the settlers come up on the hill above you,” Najid inquired.

  “We first learned of the confiscation of our neighbors’ land about the time we built the house. Then came the bulldozers followed by the caravans, and they started building the apartment buildings. They keep expanding all the time. We watched it happen. We didn’t think anything would happen to us. So, we had a wonderful twelve years here until they built a road dividing our house from the trees.”

  “But you could get to your land by just walking across the road?” Sami asked.

  “Correct, until they built the wall along the side of the road three years ago,” Faisal replied. “Ever since we’ve had to drive north to go through a checkpoint, and then travel the same distance back. Thirty kilometers, or sixty every day, just to get there and back.”

  “I remember the checkpoint very well.” Sami smirked. “And so does Ashley.”

  “That was a longer than usual wait.” Faisal smiled. “To get you dressed and Ashley’s smart phone back. But to continue, we have recently seen and heard Israeli road equipment building a highway down the hill toward our place. It’s not finished but heading right to the orchard. It looks like they want to expand their settlement to include the entire hill and our farm.”

  “Are other properties threatened?” Farah asked.

  “We’re not sure as yet since we just received the bad news.”