Ni’lin village, located in West Ramallah, is one of the most prominent villages speaking out against both the occupation and the building of the wall. It is well known for its consistent and weekly non-violent demonstrations that, over the past year, have been met with increasing violence from the Israeli soldiers charged with the responsibility of “monitoring” the demonstrations. Such violence has resulted in the death of several people, including young children (under the age of 15), protesters as well as people simply observing the protests. And even as word continues to get out about these deaths, the violence has not, and most likely will not, subside anytime soon. I had the unique opportunity to sit down with the Mayor of Ni’lin at the end of June and ask him about the biggest challenges facing his village. The following is his story through his own words….

Translation provided by: Ahmad Mesleh

The village of Adierat is hidden within the desert hills of southern Hebron and if you blink too soon there is a distinct possibility you might just miss it. Our journey last week took us to three distinct villages in the south, but for the sake of time, I will focus here on the one that left the greatest impression.

When you first step foot in Adierat village it almost appears to be a ghost town, that is until people notice that two foreigners are moving about – and then the whole town seems to appear as if out of no where. Within seconds of walking no more than 10 feet, Willow and I were whisked inside of a tiny little room, promptly given 2 chairs in which to sit along with a cup of deliciously hot tea, and before we could say shukran, we were surrounded by nearly the entire village starring at us with a hungry curiosity. Everyone had come to see who these strange foreigners were and to quell their curiosity, we attempted conversation in our broken Arabic. Fortunate for us, we had some success. We managed to learn about some of the biggest challenges facing the people of this quiet, secluded village as well as some of the larger, underlying issues facing the surrounding communities. This blog is dedicated to their story.

As Willow and I sat grasping steaming hot shaee in our hands, we listened to each of the women explain how their village functions on a daily basis without running water or electricity. The main source of income for the village (which can be likened to a large, extended family) is provided by livestock. Livestock also happens to be the main source of livelihood for the surrounding farming communities. The communities might be able to have a shot at cultivating the land and use agriculture as an alternate (or perhaps additional) source of income, except then you run into one of the biggest challenges – water. As I mentioned, Adierat village functions without running water. They have a small well which a natural reservoir feeds into providing them with drinking water. The well alone, however, is not enough to sustain the village. Therefore, they are forced to purchase water for bathing and to hydrate their livestock.

With only one school in the village, education is one of the many things that falls to the wayside here. And without education, it is difficult to develop the skills necessary to stand up and fight for the essential right to satisfy basic human needs such as food, shelter and water. Part of the reason that water is in such short supply is because water is often redirected to nearby [illegal] Israeli settlements that make up a small percent of the local population, but consume a lions share of the water. These Israeli settlements are being systematically and strategically placed all over Palestinian land.

A basic theme in the field of conflict resolution is identifying the root causes of the problem in order to facilitate an effective solution. But what is one to do when the problem is inherently systemic? John Burton’s theory of structural violence argues that so long as “damaging deprivations,” which are avoidable, are caused by the “nature of social institutions and policies,” violence will prevail in a systematic way. In other words, violence becomes institutionalized and is inherently perpetuated by the very same system that identifies the oppression which results from this violence.

The Israeli settlements are avoidable, in fact, they are illegal. And as long as they continue to be built, they will continue to contribute to the structural violence that is being perpetuated on a daily basis against the Palestinian people. Water is only one of the many issues that the implementation of illegal settlements brings. This is not meant to divert the story toward one of blame, but rather to highlight the harsh facts that often make up reality here in the West Bank. I will never forget my experience with the people of Adierat village, and after reading this, hopefully you will not easily forget their story either.

One of the many villages we passed along the way in South Hebron

One of the many villages we passed along the way in South Hebron

Community members standing around the only well in the village

Community members standing around the only well in the village

Adierat Children

Adierat Children

Israeli settlement next to a Palestinian community

Red rooftops represent the Israeli settlement next to a Palestinian community

Jerusalem is an intriguing city which is divided into east and west and represents a diverse canvas of both religion and culture. And so when a new colleague of mine, Mira, invited me for a tour of Al-Aqsa mosque with her family, I naturally accepted. We arrived at Al-Aqsa on Saturday afternoon in the prime of heat and I was anxious to see this sacred and historical site with my own eyes. After all, the mosque is the third most sacred place for Muslims in the world and contains the rock where the prophet Muhammad ascended to heaven. With anticipation rising in my chest, we finally came to the outer entrance of the gate that leads into the mosque. Mira, being a wonderfully prepared hostess, pulls out a lovely white head scarf for me to put on as we approach the Arab-Israeli guard who was checking passports for folks to enter. Mira hands him her passport and explains that the two young children with us are her brother and sister. The guard then asks for my passport, which I happily hand him. He then proceeds to ask me, well to be quite honest quiz me, on Islam. He asks if I can recite the Fatiha in addition to any other verses in the Koran. Keep in mind that we are standing in front of a long line of people all watching to see if I can past this elusive test to prove my “Muslimness.” It is true that my father, as well as the Iranian side of my family, are all Muslims; however, religion was never forced upon me nor was it ever even a topic that we would discuss during say family dinners and so years later, while I am technically a Muslim by birth, I cannot say that I am anywhere near an expert on the subject.

Mira quickly intervenes and is speaking Arabic so quickly that I am having a hard time following. Eventually, the guard hands me back my passport and says to Mira that he will let me pass, but I will still have to get past the Sheik. Malesh. We continue inside the long hallway only to come across a second set of guards who stop us and proceed to quiz me all over again. At this point, I concede and tell Mira that I will just wait for her outside – but she refuses to give up. Finally, after an intense negotiation process and a promise from her that she would not let a non-Muslim inside, they let me pass. The outer compound surrounding the mosque is beautiful and serene. We walk slowly trying to soak up all of the imagery as we approach the entrance to the mosque. Upon the entrance, we come across the final set of men that will determine once and for all if we are allowed to enter. Mira is told immediately that she cannot enter because she is wearing long pants, instead of a long skirt – which is apparently the only acceptable attire for inside the mosque. He agrees to let the “children” pass (which somehow included me even though I too was wearing pants) and the three of us head inside.

The inside of the mosque is breathtaking. We choose each step carefully in an attempt to notice the smallest of the intricate details surrounding us. Mira’s little sister, Bella, guides me around the mosque explaining the history to me in her bold yet broken English. We walk downstairs to a quiet space where the famous rock is located and just sit taking in this momentous occasion. After several moments we continue our stroll inside and walk quietly around those praying and paying homage to this holy place.

The trip to Jerusalem was certainly more than just a visit to a famous religious and historical site; it brought to light the deeper and revered importance that religion holds here. I would never have imagined that being born into a religion would matter as much as it appeared to on that hot summer day in June. But like many things here, it is the most unanticipated aspects of ourselves, our history, our backgrounds and our experiences that in the end tend to be our saving grace.

Al-Aqsa Mosque

Al-Aqsa Mosque

Delicately crafted artwork creates beautiful stained glass windows

Delicately crafted artwork creates beautiful stained glass windows inside the mosque

Bella and Ayes (Mira's siblings) in front of the Al-Aqsa

Bella and Ayes (Mira's siblings)

Me, Mira and Bella (From left to right)

(From left to right) Me, Mira and Bella

Welcome to Palestine where there are no addresses, car horns are used like they are going out of style and people talk about politics as often as Americans talk about sports. In my short time here I have already come across a plethora of new experiences. Within one week I have seen the birth place and burial site of Jesus Christ and touched the rock where the prophet Muhammad ascended to heaven; I have witnessed countless acts of kindness by local Palestinians doing their best to help me, a foreigner in their city, find my way; and last but certainly not least, I have eaten some of the most amazing food that has thus far graced by pallet. It was only a week ago that I arrived in the city of Ram Allah a bit culture shocked and without luggage, but fortunate for me I was received by last year’s DWRC fellow, Willow, who has been gracious enough to take me under her wing and show me the ropes in this vibrant little city that will be home for the next two months.

The first thing I learned upon touching down here is how much I actually don’t know. The complexity of the conflict and subsequently everything that appears to be inextricably linked to it is beyond any thing I could have imagined. I am constantly surrounded by experts in history and I feel like a grade school student again trying to cram a huge amount of information into my head before the big exam, except that in this case, the exam is everyday life. My goal in coming here this summer was to listen more and have less opinion – a goal that after only a week has already proven to be significantly challenging, especially when political debates quickly can and do manifest out of discussions as seemingly simple as recycling.

There is no question in my mind that the coming weeks will be filled with sobering as well as inspiring experiences. And as I sit and watch the sun set over this humble city while listening to the call for prayer echo over the hilltops, I can hear the faint voices of all the incredible Palestinians I have already met whispering yet again….welcome to Palestine.

City of Ramallah

City of Ramallah

Two weeks before I am set to depart for Ramallah and I am sitting in my room staring at my passport and small Arabic dictionary (which I intend to carry with me at all times) wondering about the experience upon which I am about to embark. What will the people there be like? Will I achieve what I set out to do? Will I be shocked, inspired, surprised by what I find? More questions then I possibly have answers for continue to plague my mind like a fly that refuses to be swatted away. The news paints its own portrait of the situation in both Gaza and the West Bank and I wonder how much of it actually captures what is really happening on the ground. I wonder if, as a peace fellow, I will be able to tell the story, their story, any better. My commitment this summer is to work with the Palestinians in Ramallah and help them tell the world what is really happening. The point is not to just talk about the crisis, which will likely only make back page news after a few days; the point is to talk about the everyday struggles, the everyday challenges that the Palestinian people face in trying to simply live their lives, make a living to feed their families and work to help change the world we live in so that their children might not have to suffer from the same hardships as their parents. The point is to talk until someone, anyone, listens and truly hears their story.

In the field of conflict resolution, we attempt to identify theories that will help us to better understand the conflicts that we come across in our work. We try to apply them in a way that facilitates the process of identifying the root causes of the conflict so that once peace is established, it can be sustainable. I wonder if, in the real world, it will be so obvious. Perhaps the true test will be whether I am able to pull on everything I have learned over the past year to help explain the events that I will inevitably come across during my summer in the West Bank. And while part of me thinks it will certainly provide some perspective, it is unlikely that it will be that simple. 

At this point, it is still unclear to me what the place where I will be spending the next three months will be like. All I know for sure, however, is that it is exactly where I need to be. My journey back to the Middle East has been a long time coming and I cannot imagine going anywhere else that would provide the opportunity for me to truly be the change I wish to see in the world.

May identifying how control over the West Bank is broken down

Map identifying how control over the West Bank is broken down