Palestinian Stories for Reflection
Palestinians living in the State of Israel
Emir lives in the State of Israel. His family has been there since before the birth of Jesus. A Christian, Emir is also an Arab and Palestinian. He has an identity crisis of sorts. He speaks Arabic at home and attends a school for Arabs, yet under law all classes are taught in Hebrew and English. The school needs much work, but the government will not allow the school a permit to rebuild.
The neighborhood is run-down. It looks like a place from the late 1800’s. There is a new Jewish neighborhood being built up above them, slowly encroaching on their family lands. Trash is constantly being thrown down the hill on top of their land. There is not much the people can do. They have documentation of living on the land for centuries, they do not have legal documents from the Israeli government to the land and cannot get them.
Emir will graduate from High School next year. Being Arab, he is exempt from military service. Even if he wanted to serve, which he doesn’t, he would not be permitted. He can’t plan his life after school – universities will not allow him to attend before his Jewish neighbors, who must go into the military, and without the military certificate, he will not be able to find a job. He will be one of the 30% of young adults roaming.
Palestinians living in the West Bank
Abad is Roman Catholic and lives in the West Bank town of Aboud. Technically it is under the Palestinian Authority rule, yet the Israeli military has roadblocks and barricades throughout the area. Of the land “under the Palestinian Authority” less than 15% are actually controlled by the authority.
Abad’s wife is 8 months pregnant. The clinic and Pharmacy on the main road to Aboud have been destroyed along with 12 homes. Israel said that they “posed a threat” to the Israeli settlers who have built illegal settlements across the creek from Aboud. There are over 600 check points set up in the West Bank “to protect settlers.” Abad is concerned that his wife might not make it to the hospital for the birth – they must cross at least three check points. Last week his young brother was insulted – made to drop his pants at the check point while soldiers laughed and pointed rifles at him, “checking for weapons,” they said.
Abad’s family owns Olive Trees and produced olive oil for hundreds of years. A single tree can produce $700-$900 of oil a year, every two years. Last year the Israeli government built a new road to the settlements through Abad’s farm. They cut down over 100 trees and tried to pay $3 a tree to Abad. He refused the money - it was an insult! Now, his home is on one side of the road and the olive trees are on the other side of the road. There is a fence on both sides of the road with signs warning, with a skull and cross-bones, “Do not cross under penalty.” In order to work his own farm he must travel (by foot) to a check-point five miles away, cross over, and then go back to the trees – a two hour trip to cross the road. The trees are suffering – the water supply has been diverted to the settlers.
Last week Abad tried to take is produce to market. He had a buyer waiting near Jerusalem. He was fortunate enough to get a permit to take his produce to market. He used his entire family inheritance to hire a truck, it took days to travel the Palestine roads and go through the many check points. But he was at the gate. For eight hours he sat as the hot sun shone on his oil. Finally the soldier says, “Go home,” and he was not permitted to cross towards Jerusalem. The oil has now spoiled, good only for making soap. But that would only be good if the Roman Catholic Priest can smuggle it in packages for delivery. In the distance he sees miles and miles of the large concrete barricade imprisoning his family. He wonders, “How much more can I take?”
Emir lives in the State of Israel. His family has been there since before the birth of Jesus. A Christian, Emir is also an Arab and Palestinian. He has an identity crisis of sorts. He speaks Arabic at home and attends a school for Arabs, yet under law all classes are taught in Hebrew and English. The school needs much work, but the government will not allow the school a permit to rebuild.
The neighborhood is run-down. It looks like a place from the late 1800’s. There is a new Jewish neighborhood being built up above them, slowly encroaching on their family lands. Trash is constantly being thrown down the hill on top of their land. There is not much the people can do. They have documentation of living on the land for centuries, they do not have legal documents from the Israeli government to the land and cannot get them.
Emir will graduate from High School next year. Being Arab, he is exempt from military service. Even if he wanted to serve, which he doesn’t, he would not be permitted. He can’t plan his life after school – universities will not allow him to attend before his Jewish neighbors, who must go into the military, and without the military certificate, he will not be able to find a job. He will be one of the 30% of young adults roaming.
Palestinians living in the West Bank
Abad is Roman Catholic and lives in the West Bank town of Aboud. Technically it is under the Palestinian Authority rule, yet the Israeli military has roadblocks and barricades throughout the area. Of the land “under the Palestinian Authority” less than 15% are actually controlled by the authority.
Abad’s wife is 8 months pregnant. The clinic and Pharmacy on the main road to Aboud have been destroyed along with 12 homes. Israel said that they “posed a threat” to the Israeli settlers who have built illegal settlements across the creek from Aboud. There are over 600 check points set up in the West Bank “to protect settlers.” Abad is concerned that his wife might not make it to the hospital for the birth – they must cross at least three check points. Last week his young brother was insulted – made to drop his pants at the check point while soldiers laughed and pointed rifles at him, “checking for weapons,” they said.
Abad’s family owns Olive Trees and produced olive oil for hundreds of years. A single tree can produce $700-$900 of oil a year, every two years. Last year the Israeli government built a new road to the settlements through Abad’s farm. They cut down over 100 trees and tried to pay $3 a tree to Abad. He refused the money - it was an insult! Now, his home is on one side of the road and the olive trees are on the other side of the road. There is a fence on both sides of the road with signs warning, with a skull and cross-bones, “Do not cross under penalty.” In order to work his own farm he must travel (by foot) to a check-point five miles away, cross over, and then go back to the trees – a two hour trip to cross the road. The trees are suffering – the water supply has been diverted to the settlers.
Last week Abad tried to take is produce to market. He had a buyer waiting near Jerusalem. He was fortunate enough to get a permit to take his produce to market. He used his entire family inheritance to hire a truck, it took days to travel the Palestine roads and go through the many check points. But he was at the gate. For eight hours he sat as the hot sun shone on his oil. Finally the soldier says, “Go home,” and he was not permitted to cross towards Jerusalem. The oil has now spoiled, good only for making soap. But that would only be good if the Roman Catholic Priest can smuggle it in packages for delivery. In the distance he sees miles and miles of the large concrete barricade imprisoning his family. He wonders, “How much more can I take?”
Palestinians living in Gaza
Elias lives in Gaza City with his wife and children. The shelling of the month-long battle has just ended. He has been depressed, but his depression has turned to anger. For years the people have survived on humanitarian goods crossing through the border which is open only a few hours a day. His children, 7, 5 and 3 have never peered through the border. They have never known anything but the slums of Gaza City. There are many people eager to work, eager for peace – but they are not allowed to leave. The air strip in Gaza, the ports – they are blocked – not allowed to operate.
Elias is caught in a cage. In 2006, he did not supported The Palestinian Authority, not Hamas, thus now he is treated as a misfit in the community. Because of his politics, he has a hard time getting provisions for his family. Yet, he, too, was forced to flee last to the UN-supported school for shelter during the fighting. Yesterday, a plane dropped leaflets saying, “Leave, this area is about to be attacked.” But, “Go where?” No place was safe. He reflects back on some of the scenes from just the day before – women and children screaming. A father pleading with an Israeli soldier who was holding his little girl by her hair – so afraid she had peed in her pants. He remembers seeing it: the child’s head lying all by itself in the rubble. As he gets closer, he realizes – “That’s my child!” Thus, the birth of another Palestinian terrorist.
Elias lives in Gaza City with his wife and children. The shelling of the month-long battle has just ended. He has been depressed, but his depression has turned to anger. For years the people have survived on humanitarian goods crossing through the border which is open only a few hours a day. His children, 7, 5 and 3 have never peered through the border. They have never known anything but the slums of Gaza City. There are many people eager to work, eager for peace – but they are not allowed to leave. The air strip in Gaza, the ports – they are blocked – not allowed to operate.
Elias is caught in a cage. In 2006, he did not supported The Palestinian Authority, not Hamas, thus now he is treated as a misfit in the community. Because of his politics, he has a hard time getting provisions for his family. Yet, he, too, was forced to flee last to the UN-supported school for shelter during the fighting. Yesterday, a plane dropped leaflets saying, “Leave, this area is about to be attacked.” But, “Go where?” No place was safe. He reflects back on some of the scenes from just the day before – women and children screaming. A father pleading with an Israeli soldier who was holding his little girl by her hair – so afraid she had peed in her pants. He remembers seeing it: the child’s head lying all by itself in the rubble. As he gets closer, he realizes – “That’s my child!” Thus, the birth of another Palestinian terrorist.
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