Behind the Grey Line, Part Three

Saturday (Shabbat) was our last day in Beit Haarava. We could not get back to Ramla until the buses started running again after sundown. Around noon I went over to G's house to say thank you for her hospitality the night before. Her husband's son and his family had come from Tel Aviv, and I spent awhile with the family sitting on their back porch. They had truly made their home welcoming and it seemed very much like an extension of G's personality. There were wind chimes all along the back porch's eaves. The wind was so strong that she took a few down to keep them from beating into each other. She had made these amazing sesame savory cookies that looked like donuts but tasted better than anything sesame-related I'd eaten yet in Israel. Her brother, R, was headed to Tel Aviv later, and offered to drop me off in the center.

There are two notable details about the experience of driving from Beit Haarava to Tel Aviv. The first is the extreme difference in environment, from desert to green land. We saw a white donkey (supposedly what the Messiah will ride in on when s/he comes) along one of the hills. Everything in the desert is sparse--the greenery, the homes, all signs of population are seperated by considerable distance. But once you cross over the hills, it is green and bright (particularly because it was raining).

The other standout bit is of course the barrier and the checkpoint. I had no idea we'd crossed the barrier on Thursday, because Israeli buses just move right through the checkpoint. On Saturday I was in a private car, so it was totally different. Like a normal police checkpoint in the US, the first thing you notice is considerable traffic. They didn't stop our car or check our IDs or anything, but we were in a car with Israeli plates and neither of us looked remotely threatening. After the checkpoint you're in Jerusalem. Just on the other side of the checkpoing, maybe 500 meters away, a military vehicle had pulled onto the median, and the soliders were on the side of the road. A Palestinian man had climbed onto the top of the barrier and was sitting there yelling at them. I didn't hear of any major incidents in the news, so I'm going to assume it ended without any injuries.

So then R and I discussed the barrier. Israelis are almost 100% supportive of the wall. Why? Because since its completion, suicide bombings have been halted. Israelis no longer have to every waking moment terrified that if they take the wrong bus or enter the wrong restaurant they or a loved one will be killed, simply for being Israeli. American tourists have also been targeted. I am very very very glad that these bombings have been prevented. (Knock on wood a thousand times) But I am aware that the wall is also not 100% pure. It's construction often goes well into Palestinian territory, so critics consider it a land-grab. And for some of the designers, it may have been. But the Israeli supreme court recently struck down some of the proposed designs and said they must go closer to the Grey Line--this was in a specific area, not throughout the wall. In places the wall is large twists of barbed wire, 6-ft high or more. In others, it is an extremely tall and wide cement wall, and in others it is a combination of the two. Where the solid wall has not been built, human rights groups can still sue to have the line moved.

All in all it was eye-opening to spend time in the West Bank, even in a 'legal' settlement. I've revised my opinion of settlers, and also of the relationship between Palestinians and Israelis who both live in the West Bank. We ran into many residents of Jericho (they have white license plates on their car, not the Israeli yellow) who were friendly and very much not antagonistic (despite the fact that we are on a Jewish Agency for Israel program). Everyone is nervous, but there is a sort of functional stasis that exists in Beit Haarava and Kalya Beach. I will post photos soon.