April 8, 2002
Another late night meant another morning of sleeping in. The situation in the West Bank and the stories from our friends, the lack of a media presence in population centers, as well as the half-hearted response of the international community, are taking their toll on us. Our emotions are frayed.
Colin Powell is visiting to the region, which has given the impression that help is on the way. However, he won't be here for nearly a week; he's begun with a visit in Morocco - apparently the bloody crisis there is far more urgent than the one here. How many more need to die before he comes?
Iraq has announced economic sanctions in protest of Israel's actions and America's support - they are suspending oil exports for a month (Belgium, too, has apparently put sanctions on Israeli products). This is the kind of non-violent international action we'd hope could force some redress of the situation. Unfortunately, it does not seem that other nations, especially Saudi Arabia, will follow suit. And it seems criminally unlikely that the US will threaten to stop sending billions of dollars and military hardware to Israel; George Bush I tried to tie American support to Israel's compliance with international law (by making funds dependent on cessation of settlement construction), and - according to many - that's one reason why he lost his re-election.
On the other hand, we are distressed by Iraq's decision, because so many people in Iraq, impoverished and crushed by post-Gulf-War sanctions, depend on the oil-for-food program to survive. Again, they are the big losers, pawns caught between a cold-blooded dictator and an unsympathetic world community.
We spent most of the day with Scottish friends in Ibillin who are working with Abuna Elias Chacour and the Mar Elias College. Marthame is weighing the possibility of working with them a bit next Spring in their theological school. If it can be worked out in a way that would connect Zababdeh more with the Galilee, that'd be something truly worth pursuing.
In times of this crisis, cellphones have become necessities.
We had little time to check in with friends in the West Bank, but did hear from friends in Zababdeh - we called a friend who has a non-Palestinian cellphone and happened to be on the top floor at the time, high enough to get service from an Israeli tower. We asked her to speak with Abuna Aktham - she did, and he called us not long after. He was on the roof of the Latin Convent, using his cellphone to connect with Israeli service! Things are difficult in Zababdeh, with no ability to bring things in from the outside, but people are doing OK; apparently there is electricity now, and people have water and enough food basics. There's no school, because at any moment tanks could roll into town and the children would be in great danger.
On Friday, eighteen Merkava tanks rolled through town on their way to Jenin. Qabatiya is still being hit, and today the Israeli army entered Jalqamus - not far from the University. Everyone is simply waiting, and we are growing homesick for Zababdeh.
We visited with a friend from Zababdeh who is living and working in the Galilee. He has not seen his family (including his two-month-old twins) in over a month. He is even more homesick than we are, but he doesn't dare risk going now while he has a reliable - though meager - source of income. He wept when he saw us - it was good but just compounded how much we all miss "home".
We saw scenes on the news of the Israeli army turning back reporters and Red Cross vehicles at the Jalame checkpoint, preventing their entry to Jenin. They were broadcasting a report on Jenin Refugee Camp a good five to ten miles away. A friend in Jenin said that the Israeli army called for women and children to leave the camp, and only about 150 did in a population center of 20,000. These are families who "temporarily" left - and then lost - their homes once already; they won't do it again willingly.
What will come next to the refugee camp is frightening. As far as we can tell, there's still no water or electricity in Jenin Refugee Camp or City. But beyond that, as the Red Cross official said at the checkpoint, "we don't know what is happening inside." However, the human rights organization LAW has received disturbing reports.
In Ramallah, we spoke with a friend who for decades has been an activist for human rights and democracy in Palestine. During the lifting of curfew today, a few went to see what happened to the organizations in those fields. Their offices have been destroyed, hard drives stolen, documents confiscated. For her, this was the murder of intellectual and cultural life. You could hear her heart breaking over the phone line. Her husband, a doctor and prominent spokesman in the area of human rights, is in hiding, fearing assassination or perpetual detention (probably including torture, which he suffered in prison during the first Intifada). Neither she nor their daughter know where he is; he calls her once a day to say that he's OK - that's all he can do for her safety and his.
It is simply mind-blowing that this is happening - not to terrorists, or even political parties, but to those who are simply seeking fair treatment. The Palestinian portrait seems to have been successfully painted as "terrorist" to the point that the killing and targeting of doctors, ambulance drivers, human rights advocates, journalists, barbers and bakers doesn't make a ripple. Imagine Ghandi or Martin Luther King, Jr. coming back now and being targeted and forced into hiding. It seems ludicrous - "Haven't we learned?" you might ask. Apparently, for so many people who are silenced and killed for their struggle for justice, human rights, and democracy (in Palestine and around the world) we learn too late. As our friend said, "We must persevere." She seemed to be saying it as much to herself as she was to us.