[By Rudolf Hinz, a Lutheran World Federation
staff member based in Jerusalem last year, for Lutheran World Information.
LWR supports medical, vocational and trauma rehabilitation projects of
LWF and local partner organizations in the West Bank, East Jerusalem and
Gaza.]
Jayyous, West Bank, and Geneva, Switzerland,
February 10, 2004 -- "Why aren't they building the wall along
the Green Line? Why are they taking 70 percent of our most valuable land
away from us? What will happen to the people living between the Green Line
and the wall? What will we live on in the future? The jobs in Israel have
already been lost, and now we are losing the land that sustains us."
Abu Assam, a prosperous farmer and a man of peace, stands on the hill where his village is located, and looks down onto the fertile coastal plain to the west. His land is on the other side of the wall that Israeli authorities are building on Palestinian land. Here in Jayyous, northeast of Qalqiliya in the West Bank, it's been clear for more than a year what his people would have to face.
The construction of what people here call "The Wall" began with a large-scale eviction campaign. In mid-2002, Palestinian farmers between Jenin and Qalqiliya found official notices nailed to their trees: the Israeli civil administration for the West Bank informed them that some pieces of land would be confiscated for military reasons. Appeals could be submitted within 14 days. The justification cited was the heavy attacks carried out on the Israeli civilian population by Palestinian suicide bombers in the first half of 2002. The West Bank was to be sealed off in order to stop terrorists.
The landowners were outraged less by the prospect of being cut off from Israel -- from relatives and jobs there -- than by the course that the planned barrier would run. North of Jenin the barrier mostly followed what is known as the Green Line - the border between Israel and the West Bank drawn after the 1967 war. But further south the wall veered hundreds of meters, and then several kilometers, east of this border into the Occupied Palestinian Territories.
100,000 Olive and Orange Trees Felled for the Wall
All appeals against the eviction were rejected, and construction began. A massive machine was used to cut a broad swathe straight through orange and olive orchards. Since then, more than 100,000 trees have been uprooted, including olive trees that had sustained their owners for several centuries.
There was great bitterness among the people living along the new border, and not only because of the loss of valuable land. Many communities found themselves caught between the Green Line and the barrier, and others were cut off from their land west of the new border. All feared that they would no longer have access to water for domestic use and for irrigating fields and greenhouses.
With support from international solidarity groups, the affected people organized peaceful protests at the construction site. The Imam of Jayyous invited his congregation to Friday prayers in the fields. But the demonstrations did not help, and the barrier began to take shape. It became not only a "security fence," as the Israeli authorities had called it, but rather a fortified border, complete with everything that entails. A high concrete wall was even built around the cities of Tulkarem and Qalqiliya.
During the construction -- which ran into the first half of 2003 -- the farmers could still cross the construction site with their tractors and transport vehicles. But traders with their trucks were seen less and less frequently. Gradually, crossing for anyone became increasingly difficult as the security forces enforced stricter measures.
In August 2003, the barrier was completed. A 2.5-meter-high fence was flanked on both sides by a security road, a deep trench and coils of razor wire.
Gates Closed for Weeks
Impassable. But, there were also two gates in the fence for Jayyous farmers. Assam was skeptical, but had not lost all hope. He said, "We can cross onto our land. They promised us that. But we will also sleep there, in tents if we have to."
The gates, which initially remained wide open, were closed in October 2003 and re-opened only briefly at specific times of day. They remained closed for weeks on end after further attacks in Israel and during Israeli holidays. Anyone who slept in the fields was driven away by the threat of heavy fines. The shepherds from Jayyous, who wander about with their herds of sheep and goats, were denied access to the land beyond the barrier. In the end, only a specific category of people received passes to cross the border at all. Assam and many other landowners with him were not in this group. He stated with conviction, "I don't know why. But I'm not giving up."
Next, Assam planned a demonstration at one of the two gates. Again he carried his tent. In addition to the Jayyous community, many international volunteers joined him. They included members of the Ecumenical Accompaniment Program in Palestine and Israel, which has been monitoring the situation on location in Jayyous since October 2002. Israeli human rights activists also came by the busload. Assam is a member of a dialogue group that includes both Israelis and Palestinians.
"Some Day, This Wall Will Fall!"
Assam is full of praise and appreciation for the international support for the people of Jayyous, right in their village. He is also well aware of the fact that he is still able to get by on his own. Many in Jayyous now depend on humanitarian aid that is brought to the village in large trucks, including aid from LWF and other Christian organizations.
"Imagine that," he says, "in a village that can actually produce enough to sustain not only itself, but also many other people. Our harvests are now rotting, while our people stand in queues at the distribution centers. It's absurd. How long can things go on like this?"
Outside support is "a great source of encouragement for all of us, as well as a sign that the world has not forgotten us," he says. "Some day, this wall too will fall!"