this land is their land...

Today I woke up in a village surrounded by settlements, i have been here

for two days now and it seems so pleasant and peaceful that I find myself 

wondering whether I should come for vacation. 

 

The only noises you can hear most of the day are the bleating of the goats, 

the occasional bark of the watchdog, chicken's chuckles and children's voices.

After weeks of morning duty at the checkpoint and agricultural gates 

my spirit is sullied with the daily humiliations, indignities that many 

have suffered here most of their lives.

This countryside calm only in appearance was necessary even vital to

maintain some kind of impartial balanced view of this world,

to transform mounting frustration and resentment into something 

other than hate.

The neighboring house abridges three old women with whom, on account 

of the language barrier, I can only exchange a smile,the customary palm

of the hand to the chest with a gentle bow of my head and : "Salam Aleikum!" 

They sit on their terrace, halfway to a hilltop they no longer are allowed

to reach, not on account of age, but on account of the fears and

violence of their neighbors,settlers, who took over the hilltops all around.

Sit looking at their surrounded village which settlers covet and Israeli 

soldiers slowly yet steadfastly subtract from them for "security reasons".

I feel my throat closing in, a deep sadness from the understanding that 

this womenare someone's mothers, grandmothers and sisters, 

that they too could be my family and that this land, this dignity 

and this humiliations are also my own.

I leave this village behind today, but i leave also a part of my humanity

and yet i hope and know that these three kind old women will somehow

find a way in which to rekindle the fire within which is struggling.