August 2, 2003

Marthame took care of some errands before making his way back to Jerusalem - he's preaching tomorrow, and a Sunday morning taxi wouldn't do the trick. The taxi arrived at the Hamra checkpoint, one of the young men getting turned back - it always seems that there must be one, and usually the one with the most likely reason to get through. He walked around the checkpoint, meeting up with the taxi on the other side (which waited in the shade with the hood up in case the army passed by). The young man was convinced that the soldiers had seen him, but just didn't want to be bothered. The rest of the trip was "status quo."

In the morning, Elizabeth caught up on more work at home before joining the Birzeit group in Jenin. They'd spent the morning in Jenin Camp, visiting families who had been affected (by being injured, losing a loved one, losing their home, etc.) during the Israeli incursion in Spring 2002. Elizabeth found the group after their visits at lunch in one of Jenin's nicer watering holes, the very large and air-conditioned Al-Aqsa Restaurant.

From there, a small bus took us on round-about dirt paths to Jalame, a town on the Green Line. One of the village elders came to speak to us and show us the foundations of the "separation wall" being built between Israel and the Palestinian Territories. Only, it's not really being built between Israel and the Territories. Instead of following the Green Line, it's passing deep into the West Bank, confiscating villagers' land as it goes. (We recently heard a lecture from The Palestinian Environmental NGOs Network about the environmental, agricultural, and social costs of the proposed wall route.) Our guide pointed to where farmland had been destroyed and olive trees had been recently uprooted to make way for the wall. Rolls of barbed wire pass across the land, preventing approach to the wall's foundations. Jalame's farmers are no strangers to land confiscation; many still hold title to lands on the other side of the Green Line, in Israel, but forbidden for them to access. And now they face uncompensated loss of their property again. "If they want a wall, fine," he said. "But put it on the border, and don't steal our land to build it."

Hot and dusty, our group left Jalame and headed toward the lovely Haddad family complex, between Zababdeh and Jenin. A Christian family whose name literally means "Smith," the Haddads have done well in the metals business, such that their compound has five large homes, one for each son and daughter (as well as extensive orchards and gardens). One of the AAUJ students who has been involved with hosting foreign groups such as ours is a Haddad and her family wanted to invite us all over for a barbecue.

The compound is built at an intersection leading to Jenin, and as such it is frequently bulldozed or (as today) guarded by soldiers. We were allowed through after some convincing and affirmation by the Haddads that we were indeed only going there (and not on to Jenin).

Elizabeth “poses” in front of the tanks just outside the Haddad compound.

After a cool drink we strolled around the grounds, spending some time watching and photographing the tanks and soldiers outside the Haddad fence. After all that, we were ready for some serious eating, with grilled turkey and kibbe (seasoned ground beef) and salad and hummus and finally, the best treat of all, fresh knaffe (a sweet cheese dessert for which Nablus is famous). We returned to Zababdeh sated and sleepy.