Wednesday July 3, 2002, with the CPT in Hebron

This should have been the day the farmers got into their fields, but it wasn’t. There is hope however. Our crew of four courageous women and one old man (me) hiked up to the main square in the old city of Hebron. There we caught a cab down to the big bridge that we had walked across the day before. This morning there was a Jeep with Israeli troopers on the other side firing an occasional round to warn people off—harassment pure and simple. (Later in the day I picked up an empty M-16 shell casing from where the Jeep was parked.) After a bit of discussion between our leader Kathy Kamphoefner and the driver we headed to a detour to another crossing; that one turned out to be too dangerous also. So the driver headed out again and, after several kilometres, took us to a steep "road" down the valley to a crossing point. This road was hardly fit for a donkey, but it was crowded with taxis. This taxi could not take us across, but we were able to catch another taxi on the other side of the barrier, and so what should have taken 60 seconds to cross over, took the better part of an hour.

We climbed the hill on the other side of the bridge that we couldn’t cross and assembled at a farmer’s yard, then waited and waited.

This Army camp is built on land confiscated from Palestininan farmers, as was the settlement. We were on the other side of this camp during the confrontation the day before where Kathy and Diana had marched up to try to talk to the commander—to no avail.

I found out that the elected Palestinian mayor of Halhul, a part of greater Hebron, would join us to try to influence the Army guards to let the farmers onto their fields. Eventually he did arrive—a slight energetic man with heavy eyebrows, black hair, but all in all a good-looking and pleasant guy who spoke only Arabic.

It must have been 10:30 when our intrepid troop of Palestinian farmers, Christian Peacemaker Team members, three ISMers, led by the mayor climbed up the backside of the camp to try to negotiate access to the fields. Here are some of the fields looking across from the guard camp to the settlement.

The cleared area around the settlement had been orchards and garden plots before the land was confiscated for the Israeli colonists. The settlement is expanding by bringing in mobile homes which require more land. This is all illegal under international law, but Israel does not play by international rules.

Surprise, surprise, the mayor finally got to talk to the commander of the camp, a fairly burly officer, who spoke what I took to be fluent Arabic, which is rare among the Israeli soldiers. Almost all of them speak some English, and occasionally fluent English. I did not get much of the negotiating details, but in the end, the commander exchanged cell phone numbers with the mayor, and told him that tomorrow morning the farmers would be allowed onto their fields. He promised to tell the Army and the settlers about the decision to allow them to proceed.

Kathy tried to get it in writing, but the commander wanted no part of that. They had his word. But Kathy says the word of an Israeli officer isn’t worth the paper it isn’t written on. So we trudged back on down and would let the farmers approach their fields by themselves tomorrow.

Did our presence make a difference? Kathy, who has been spending her summers here for seven years, thinks so. (She was wrong.)

Back at the apartment and after a bite to eat, I lay down for a little nap. Ananda from the ISM group at the hospital woke me up and said that Dr. Ghandi would like a full contingent of ISMers to stay up and negotiate with a possible incursion of soldiers during the night. Since there are almost no patients at the hospital, there is plenty of room, so Heidi and I moved over here, where I am writing this report.

This assignment very likely ends my "activism" in Palestine. Five of us ISMers will find a small bus back to Jerusalem on Friday where I will spend two nights, leaving from Tel Aviv early Sunday morning.