Vancouver for Peace

Joy Ellison's dispatches on her experiences in Palestine.
last updates 8/1, 6/13, 6/27, 6/7 . (Dispatches from summer 2005 and multimedia from 2005.)

A Vancouver native and Peace and Global Studies graduate from Earlham College, Joy Ellison has been in Palestine on the West Bank since mid-May, 2006. She is studying Arabic at the Holy Land Trust in Bethlehem. She will return to Vancouver in mid-August, 2006.

I've been at a 10 day nonviolence camp and I'm still catching up on my emails. Be assured that I'm still fine and that I'm really grateful for your letters, including the ones that I've yet to answer. I have a lot to say about the situation here, but I haven't had time to write. Besides I think that we could all use some humor right now, so here is a story for you. This comes from the first intifada, a time of fierce nonviolent resistance to the occupation that most Palestinians look back on with tremendous pride. I didn't write up this story myself - I have my good friend Helen to thank for that. I've emailed her to ask her who she would like to be credited, but for now, I think that we can all just enjoy this story. So without further introduction, I bring you "The Cows of Beit Sahour".

Beit Sahour, the town where I live, is famous throughout Palestine for its fierce devotion to independence and amazing use of nonviolence during the first intifada. Beit Sahour launched community wide tax strike in protest of the occupation, for which residents suffered greatly.  But more impressively, Beit Sahour managed to boycott every Israeli product on the market.  Under the Israeli military occupation, the economy of Palestine has been crushed and Palestinians, once extremely successful farmers, have become dependent on Israeli goods. But during the first intifada, Palestinians organized victory gardens and were able to feed themselves, even during long months of 24-hour curfew. In Beit Sahour, the boycott was successful. Sahouris met all of their needs without relying on Israeli good. All of their needs, that is, except milk. That's where the cows of Beit Sahour come in. Here's my friend Helen to tell the story.

During the first intifada the people of Beit Sahour wanted to become independent and self-sufficient. They withheld taxes from the Israeli government and wanted to grow their own vegetables, bake their own bread . and milk their own cows.  However they wanted to do it in such a way that irritated the Israeli military. They organised courses in horticulture and the wealthier activists bought 18 cows

Imagine, a group of middle class men that have no experience of livestock arriving in a field in the middle of night with a trailer full of cows. They knew nothing about cows, not even how to get them out of the trailer. After asking the cows politely to please come out someone decided to bang on the side. The cows came charging out scattering the men far and wide. After 4 hours of trying to round up the animals, but running the other way as soon as one turned round, the local villagers came to help and the cows were settled into their new home.

Every day the cows were milked and the milk delivered early in the morning to the house around the town by young men covering their heads and faces with kaffiyeh's. It drove the  local military commander wild. Eventually the IDF turned up at the field and demanded that the cows were removed. The activists refused and the military went away. A few days later they returned and again demanded that the cows go and went around taking individual photos of the cows.

The villager that was employed to look after the cows was repeatedly intimidated and assaulted by the IDF. He quit his job so people from Beit Sahour started looking after the cows themselves. After repeated harassment from the IDF the activists decided that the cows needed to be moved to a secret location. Eventually a suitable cave was found, it belonged to a butcher, he used it to keep cows in before he slaughtered them.

The cows were collected in the middle of the night and delivered to the cave, the disappearance drove the military commander crazy. The milk was still being delivered but the cows were nowhere to be seen. Soldiers were sent door to door in Beit Sahour with the mug shots of the cows asking townspeople if they recognised them. Eventually the soldiers came to the butchers house and looked in the cave, initially they didn't spot the cows but a stray moo gave them away. The 18 "terrorists" had now been found.

The butcher had a cover story and maintained the cows now belonged to him and he was keeping them until they calved and then would kill them. The soldiers arrested him for non-payment of taxes (for which he could be held for 48 hours). When released he was immediately rearrested. The activists decided this was unacceptable so the cows were again collected in the middle of the night and distributed around the local villages.

Two years later one of the original team that bought the cows was arrested and questioned on an unrelated matter. The Beit Sahour military commander found out he was there and said to him: "What the hell happened to those cows." When telling us this story the activist said "I now know I caused him sleepless nights thinking about the cows. That alone made it all worthwhile."
So ends the story of the cows of Beit Sahour.

I wish it were possible to prepare myself for returning to Palestine.
When I arrived in Tel Aviv, I wrote the address of an Israeli contact on my entry card. The woman behind the glass asked me only two questions before stamping my passport and waiving me through. I was elated to receive a visa so easily and stepped out of the airport feeling buoyant and hopeful. Then I took a taxi to Jerusalem and entered a land of ever-accelerating military occupation.

When I visited Bethlehem a year ago, the Israeli settlement of Har Homa seemed scattered and small, hardly worth mentioning. Now it dominates the view from the hilltop of Bethlehem. One year ago, the checkpoint between Bethlehem and Jerusalem was a gap in the wall, manned by a soldier and his gun. Now the checkpoint is barely recognizable. The soldier has been replaced with a terminal– a huge complex of lanes, interrogation rooms, high tech cameras, and soldiers. One year ago, I could still see Rachael's tomb inside Bethlehem. Now the Wall, 25ft of seemingly impenetrable cement, surrounds this holy sight. The settlement, the terminal and the Wall, each feel to me like a paralyzing ache. For the first time I feel my optimism flagging. I wonder how Palestinian nonviolent resistance can possibly keep pace with the occupation of the world's fourth largest military power.

On the side of the new terminal, the Israeli government has erected a sign which reads in Hebrew, Arabic, and English "Peace Be With You." I am left to wonder what sort of peace the Israeli government has in mind.

I arrived in Jerusalem in time for an annual event that Israelis call "Jerusalem Day." Jerusalem Day commemorates in the anniversary of the unification of Jerusalem – when Israel took over control of East Jerusalem from Jordon in 1967. I heard Israelis describe the event as a festival– with flags and singing and dancing– but I watched as Palestinians had to close their shops early so that Israel protestors could march through the Old City much in the same ways that Protestants and Catholics march through opposing neighborhoods in Northern Ireland. The arresting image for me was of Israeli demonstrators walking down the steps to the Damascus Gate and lifting up a red plastic police line to cross under it.

I remember another plastic ribbon from one year ago. This one was yellow and tied between two olive trees in the village of Sulfit. I stood in front of this yellow ribbon with a group of Palestinians, mostly farmers and young men, who wanted to go to their olive groves before they were removed to make way for the path of the Wall. Between us and the olive groves was a thin yellow ribbon– and a line of soldiers behind it. With guns and tear gas, they made sure that we understood that crossing the yellow ribbon would be dangerous, that they were the people with power. As I stood in Jerusalem and watched Israelis cross under the police line without rebuke, I remembered the
sting of tear gas and I realized again just who has power in this
situation.What peace will be offered to the Palestinians? Will it be a peace of justice or a peace designed to keep Israelis powerful and Palestinians weak?

Over the next few months, the Olmert government is expected to make a "peace" offer. The Convergence Plan is expected to, at best, claim an Israeli border along the Jordon River, and offer Palestinians most of the West Bank, but divided into north and south sections. Israel will remain in control of the Bethlehem-Jerusalem-Ramallah corridor. This area represents 95% of the Palestinian economy and most of the potential for economic growth. By depriving Palestinians of an international boarder and the ability to freely develop in Bethlehem, Jerusalem, and Ramallah, the Israeli government will create a Palestinian state wholly dependent and easily exploitable.

Many analysts expect Prime Minister Ehud Olmert to make this offer and for the Palestinian Authority to reject it. When that happens, Israel is likely to once again claim that the Palestinians are simply not a partner for "peace." My question is, will Americans again be duped?
Will we finally be able to see the effects of what the Israeli government calls a "peace plan"? Or will we once again side with the Israeli government and call Palestinians terrorists for simply wanting an independent, prosperous state?

On the side of the new terminal, the Israeli government wishes peace to all who pass through. The peace they offer, however, is the so-called peace of walls, colonization, and economic subjugation. It's the sort of "peace" that must be enforced by the barrel of a gun. It's the peace that Martin Luther King, Jr. rejected when he embarked on nonviolent protest against segregation and economic exploitation of African Americans. It's the peace that the Palestinians people reject when they use nonviolent protest to demand real, meaningful freedom and justice for themselves and their families. It's time for the American people, who could hold so much power in this situation, to see through what the Israeli government calls "peace" and demand the peace that will come once the military occupation of Palestine has ended. Both Israelis and Palestinians deserve the true peace that will come only with justice.

Two wise people have told me to be on the look out for small miracles. It's good advice because Palestine has become a place where one has to search for hope. I've been feeling discouraged lately, so the task of finding miracles, even small ones, has seemed daunting. Daunting, that is, until I realized every day I am in Palestine I do meet small miracles in the form of children.

"Hello! Hello! What's your name?" Just five minutes ago I walked through the old city of Beit Sahour passing through a group of boys sucking on purple popsicles. Like seemingly every child in Palestine, these boys shouted greetings at me and asked my name more as a ritual mantra than a question. I responded in Arabic "Ahlan shabab," Hey guys. The boys erupted into a flurry of Arabic that made me break out laughing. I think that by the time I leave Beit Sahour, every child living here will have yelled at me "Hello! Hello! What's your name?" I'm honestly looking forward to answering each of them.

I dearly love Palestinian children, but I'm often surprised by all that they endure as they live under Israeli military occupation. Palestinian children are incredibly vulnerable, as much as their parents may try to protect them. Their very childhoods are occupied.

Last week in Abu Dis, I met a kind, respectful boy named Saleem. Saleem made me smile when he told me that I looked like his cousin, expect that I was very short. Saleem told me that he was eleven years old. Then he said that a few years ago an Israeli solider stopped him while he was playing on the street and asked him what he was doing. Saleem answered that he was visiting his uncle. Then, Saleem told me, the soldier slapped him in the face.

I've heard many stories like the one that Saleem told me and witnessed a few incidents myself. Let me share a few of them with you. Then you can understand what life is sometimes like for these beautiful children.

I could share many more painful stories with you. In light of what these children face, their survival seems miraculous. But instead of telling you more terrible stories, let me list for you more about what Palestinians children have given to me. These are some of the reasons I still have hope.

There is still so much life here, thanks to these children. In light of everything they go through, every smile, every laugh, every child is a small miracle.

A city where everyone gets along, a coastal jewel, a holy place, one of the most beautiful cities in the world, Haifa has become a symbol for me. At home, a surprising number of people of all faiths ask me if I have been to Haifa, tell me to go to Haifa, and ask me if it's as beautiful as they've heard. After Friday, I'll be able to answer their questions.

Maybe I'm having mixed feelings because of stories I've heard about Haifa from Palestinians I've met. More than anyone else, they've told me how beautiful the city is, how much they would like me to see it, and how much they would like to see it themselves. Some families have also told me that they used to live in Haifa. They used to wake up in the mornings knowing they could walk down to the sea. But that was many years ago. While the state of Israel was being founded, an armed and organized Jewish gang called the Haganah, attacked Haifa in an effort to secure the city for themselves and drive out the Palestinian population. Many, many Palestinians left their homes before the city was taken and many others were forced to leave afterwards. They became refugees and they still cannot go home.

I know that Haifa is not just a beautiful place, but also a place where terrible things happened. There are many places in the world like that, perhaps nearly every beautiful place as has a dark history. But this one seems different to me because this time the terrible things happened to my friends.

Haifa's history hangs over me, but I don't think that's why I am feeling uncomfortable going. I think I'm feeling uncomfortable because my friends can't go with me. Haifa is in Israel proper, on the Northern coast, far outside of the West Bank. To visit Haifa, my Palestinian friends would have to obtain a permit from the Israeli government. The process is daunting and my friends would almost certainly be denied. I was actually supposed to visit Haifa last summer, but the 6th graders at the Ramallah Friends School whom I was supposed to accompany applied for permits over and over and over again and were denied each time.

My friends tell me how much they would like to go to the sea, to see it again or for the first time. How is it that I can go see the sea and Palestinians who used to have homes in Haifa or the surrounding areas cannot go and may never be able to?

On Friday, I'll go to Haifa. I'll see the Baha'i temple. I'll look out at the sea. I hope that I really will see a city where everyone gets along. I hope it will be even more beautiful than what I have dreamed. But I know I will wish that I could share Haifa with the people who I've come to count among my closest friends.

What would happen if I tried to take my friends with me? What if we, foreigners who can go to Haifa and Palestinians who cannot, were to walk to the checkpoint together and ask why some of us can go to Haifa and others cannot? What if we asked when the Holy Land's holy places - Jerusalem, Hebron, Bethlehem, and Haifa - will be free, open to everyone, owned by all, places of peace? Could we convince the soldiers to ignore their orders and let all of us through? It seems like an impossible hope.

The truth is, we can guess what might happen if we were to go to the checkpoint together, because similar demonstrations have been tried to before. If we were to go to the checkpoint, just my friends and I, my friends would sent home or be arrested and I would be powerless to get them out of jail. If we were to have a demonstration, like Palestinians and internationals have had here in Bethlehem before, it's likely we would disorient the soldiers but eventually they would shoot tear gas, threaten us all with arrest, and possible do worse. Traveling together to Haifa does indeed seem to be impossible.

Nonetheless, I still hope and dream that some day we will walk together into a brighter future for everyone and visit Haifa together.

Hebron, West Bank , On June 2nd, Vancouver resident Joy Ellison was threatened at gun point while helping two Palestinians at a checkpoint within the city of Hebron. After the Israeli solider manning checkpoint broke Israeli law by touching the two other Americans with Ellison, he pointed at gun at Ellison as if he were going to fire.

Joy Ellison and three other American members of Christian Peacemaker Teams (CPT), a nonviolent accompaniment and advocacy organization, were walking through the Daboya Street checkpoint on their way to visit Palestinian families. Two Palestinian 16 year olds were being held at the checkpoint. Ellison and her teammates spoke with the teenagers who said that they had been held for two hours and asked the CPT members to intervene.

Ellison spoke with the solider at the checkpoint, asking why the boys were being held. The solider claimed that their IDs were fake. The CPT members politely reminded the solider, who would not give his name, that soldiers are allowed to detain Palestinians and internationals for no more than 25 minutes before taking legal action or releasing them. The solider responded saying in English “I do not give a [expletive deleted] about international law. I do not give a [expletive deleted] about human rights. I will do whatever I want.” The solider began to harass Ellison and the CPT members verbally.

CPT members called the army asking for the commanding officer to reprimand the offending solider. The offending solider then dragged CPT member American Michelle Stanley away by her purse – a clear violation of orders not to touch Internationals or Palestinians. The solider then pointed his gun straight at Joy Ellison, put the sight to his eye and appeared to prepare to shoot Ellison.

Ellison says “When he pointed the gun at me, I thought that I might die. For less than a second, I wanted to run, but then I felt very proud of what I was doing – standing up for peace and justice.”

Ellison held her ground, and Stanley said, “Don’t point your gun at her.” The solider dropped his gun, but said “I will point this gun wherever I want. There is no international law. I am the law.”

The solider continued to touch the CPT members, forcefully shoving Charles O’Roake 3 or 4 times. The commanding officer arrived and reprimanded the offending solider, but the solider did not change his behavior. He began sexually harassing Michelle Stanley and Jessica Villota.

Stanley repeatedly asked to file a complaint against the solider. An Israeli police officer arrived, but instead to taking the complaint, he arrested Stanley, screaming abuse at her. As soon as Stanley was arrested, the Palestinian teenagers were released, indicating that nothing was wrong with their IDs – a conclusion supported by a member of the US consulate. In total, the teenagers were held for 3 and half hours.

After two hours, Stanley was released, without charges. Ellison, Stanley, O’Roake and Villota filed complaints with the Israeli police and the American consulate in Jerusalem. Unfortunately, police and consulate members indicate that it is unlikely that the offending solider will face any consequences.

“At checkpoints, Palestinians regularly receive far worse treatment than we Americans did today,” said Joy Ellison. “It’s extremely disturbing that some soldiers have no regard for international law. If this solider can point a gun at me, I shudder to think what he might do to Palestinians women or girls”

www.iwps.info – June 10, 2005 Marda suffers collective punishment on Wednesday, but will continue to resist Friday

On Friday June 10th villagers and supporters will meet at 10:30 am in the center of Marda to walk to the land that where their olive trees are being uprooted. The farmers of Marda will attempt to pray on their land. Marda has seen at least 1000 trees cut and an unknown number uprooted in the past week to make way for the Ariel loop of the Annexation Wall, 20 kilometers (12.2 miles) east of the Green Line.

Today, curfew was imposed on the village of Marda at 5:30 AM, and the entire area of Marda, Iskaka, and Salfit was declared a closed military zone. The Civil Administration informed Israeli activist Laiser from Tel Aviv who protested the curfew that the village was being punished because some residents had thrown stones. Soldiers and border police repeatedly entered the village from 5.30 AM onward, throwing sound bombs and firing tear gas, rubber bullets and live ammunition into the air and into a home, breaking its window.

Approximately 20 Palestinians were treated for tear gas inhalation, among them a Red Crescent ambulance worker who was hurt when a tear gas canister was fired at an ambulance. In addition, a 25 year old Palestinian was arrested.

Yesterday the military spread hundreds of soldiers in the area and fired approximately 200 canisters of tear gas in two hours to prevent protestors from coming near the site of their uprooted trees. One farmer was taken to Rafidiya hospital and two Red Crescent ambulances treated 20 Palestinians.

On May 16 the Israeli Supreme Court lifted all injunctions stopping construction of the Wall around Ariel, the largest Israeli settlement in the northern West Bank. The final Israeli Supreme Court decision about the path of the Wall in the Salfit region will be made on June 21. In the meantime, irreversible damage is being done to the villager’s trees and land, destroying their crops for the years to come. In effect, the lifting of the injunction already gives the green light to the building of the Wall 22 kilometers (13 miles) east of the Green Line, deep inside the West Bank.

Here's what happened today, in rough form: about 100 or so villagers from Marda and 12 Israelis and internationals tried to walk up the mountain to pray. The plan was to get just outside of the village, pray, and then try to get up to where the bulldozer was working removing the olive trees. We didn't get more than 10 ft from the village before they fired about 50 tear gas canisters in 4 minutes. They continued firing gas at about the same rate for 15 minutes and then soldiers entered the village. It was horrible. They kept firing gas and sound bombs, but eventually worked their way up to rubber bullets. Three kids were hit, but none of them were seriously injured. Then they started firing live ammo - and actually aiming at the children and hitting the mosque. They also fired canister that exploded into green gas - at the time the Red Crescent told us it was nerve gas, but we don't think so. Still, the army did take the canister away with them. We've got some samples of stones that were dyed green with gas residue. Nasty. I hope someone is getting them tested. Thankfully, the solider eventually left, but they're claiming that a Palestinian fired the shots. We're sure that they did - though I suppose in a 2000 person village someone else could have too - and we've got the M16 bullets. The army is telling us that if we can prove that they fired the shots, then it was unauthorized and the soldiers will be disciplined (They should be discharged and sent to prison. No one should ever shot at kids.) Any way, it was bad. But we stopped the bulldozer - at least it stopped working and it probably was because Marda was making such a fuss. So it wasn't all bad. I also found a family that speaks Spanish - and they invited me to their son's wedding. Nice. Actually, like 10 per cent of all of the families in Marda speak Spanish because they had moved to Venezuela after '67, but came back after the first Intifada when they thought that there would be a Palestinian state. Now, most of them have no ID cards and can't ever leave Marda.

On Friday, I demonstrated for Moncade, the cutest three year-old in the West Bank. Moncade lives in Marda, a small village at the base of the hill on top which the Ariel settlement sits. Marda is losing their land and olive trees so that the Isreali government can build a 25 ft cement "security" wall – 13 miles away for Israel's 1967 border. Marda is a farming village and losing their land and trees will deal a huge economic and emotional blow. But as a Palestinian man whose house is completely surrounded by the Wall and security fencing told me yesterday, "the Wall is just the new situation that Palestinians must adapt to." The residents of Marda, including Moncade, have faced similar situations before and will again. There is a feeling here in Palestine that "if we were not facing this problem, we would face another."

I demonstrated for Moncade because his smile gives me courage. It isn't easy to live in the West Bank and it's even harder to face the Israeli without weapons or hate, knowing that they will respond with tremendous violence. Since a soldier pointed a gun in my face because I asked him to release to two Palestinian boys he was detaining illegally, I've found my stomach flopping and my hands shaking whenever I confront the Israeli army. So on Friday, I dedicated my actions to Moncade. With the farmers of Marda, I walked up the hill to pray on the land, picturing Moncade in my mind, glad he was too little to come with me.

And as we walked the hill, the violence we knew would met us did, but even sooner than we expected. Before we left the village, the Israeli army fired approximately 50 tear gas canisters in less than five minutes. Then they entered the village, continuing to fire tear gas canisters – in to houses and a sewing factory where 25 women were working – then started to fire rubber bullets, and then live ammunition, aiming at boys less than 18. Three boys were hit with rubber bullets and one with a tear gas canister, but thankfully everyone is still alive.

I cannot describe the looks of fear on the faces of the children of Marda. I've seen so many big eyes stare up at mothers, unable to speak their terror. The look on the faces of the mothers is even worse – fear covered up with accustomedness. "My son was so afraid," a woman told me, and I could see how much she wanted me to understand and make America understand. "Please, my son was so afraid."

Fear has become such a part of the daily life of Palestinians, especially children. The Israeli army changes the conditions in the West Bank arbitrarily, at their whim. One day, the drive from Marda to Jerusalem could that one and a half hours; the next day the army might put up a new checkpoint and it could take four. Israeli soldiers detain and arrest Palestinians randomly, demolish houses without warning, even enter and leave villages for no describable reason. The result is that nothing is ever predictable and we never know when we should be afraid.

Sometimes, however, the army does give a reason for its actions. At 11 last night the army entered the village of Harres, where I live with an international women's organization. Some threw flares and others walked up through the olive groves where no one could see them. Our landlord, one of the bravest Palestinians I know, came to our door, clearly scared. "This is when we are afraid. If the army sees one of us, even a child, they will shoot." Our landlord told us that he had called the army and asked why there were here. They told him that someone had thrown a Molotov cocktail, "we are here for security reasons."

Security reasons. This is supposed to be one of the reasons that Israel is occupying Palestine. But security is trickier then one might think. When one thinks with the security mindset, soon anything one doesn't understand is a security risk and anything – sensible or not - is justified in trying to obtain security. Perhaps last night there was a Molotov cocktail, but our landlord was skeptical because he had been sitting on his patio for hours and hadn't heard anything. And after 20 terrible minutes, the army left without doing anything. Did this further security? On Friday, soldiers in Marda claimed that they didn't fire bullets, a Palestinian with a Kalashnikov rifle did. But I saw the M16 bullets. Did this lie indicate further security?

I have become much better acquainted with fear here in Palestine. I understand that many people in Israel are afraid. The specter of suicide bombings is truly terrible. But Israel must learn to see past its fear and see the occupation for what it is: brutal violence against civilians. To have security, Israel must allow the Palestinians to have what they have asked for: a free and peaceful state. Otherwise, Israel's occupation will continue to breed security threats - as long as Palestine in occupied with violence and ever increasing injustice, a few people will choose to oppose Israel violently. The occupation is Israel's biggest security threat.

An interviewer has asked me to explain, "what Americans should understand about the situation Palestine." I have been surprised by how difficult it is to answer this question.

Last week, I was standing on a roof-top in Marda when another international peace activist yelled, "That was live! They're shooting live bullets over there!" Immediately, everyone crouched down, keeping our bodies below the level the ledge around the roof-top.

Everyone, that is, except a Palestinian father who, ducking only slightly, carried out a dozen tiny ceramic cups on a sliver tray.

Perhaps this is what Americans should understand about Palestine: even when soldiers are shooting M16 bullets, Palestinians serve Arabic coffee to all of their guests.

Perhaps we should not talk about politics. Ask any Palestinian and they will tell you that politics have not served them well. Summits, negotiations, road-maps – these have meant so little to daily lives of Palestinians. And the little they have meant has been so bitterly disappointing. The Oslo process carved up the West Bank into areas A, B, and C, institutionalizing Israeli control. Barak's "generous offer" would give Palestinians a state, broken in to three different sections, in only 20% of British Mandate Palestine, and without control over Jerusalem. The new Gaza disengagement, if carried out, will not mean the end of settlements in the West Bank. In the city of Hebron, Christian Peacemaker Teams reports that as the disengagement date draws closer, settlers are attacking Palestinians more brutally and in more organized ways. For these families, the disengagement means more violence. It's worse than "another failed political initiative."

So if politics means so little to the people of Palestine, then let's not speak of it at all. Instead, I'll tell you how Palestinian hospitality knows no bounds. I'll tell you about the beautiful children I play with every day. I'll tell you about the sheep and the donkeys. I'll tell you all of the good things about a group of people I've fallen in love with.

Last night I went to a wedding. Nasfat, a Palestinian organizer in Marda, told us "Marda is special; soldiers in the day, parties at night!" Huddled with the women and girls, I watched the men dancing around in a huge circle. The girls wrote in my hands in henna and the women chatted and gossiped. But then soldiers began to walk down the hillside, approaching the village. In the middle of a wedding, villagers had to decide how to respond. They had to restrain their little boys, keeping them from confronting the soldiers in the pitch black night. This is the meaning of military occupation: even at a wedding, the army wasn't far away.

There is no way to escape the occupation and its politics in Palestine. Palestinian hospitality is carried out under fire. The beautiful children I play with are terrified of the soldiers they see every day. In Hebron, these beautiful children have been strip searched and sexually harassed at a checkpoint on their way to school. In the village of Tuwani, where I bought the Palestinian dress I wore to the wedding last night, the sheep have been poisoned by settlers. In Marda, donkeys choke on tear gas. The daily life of the people I love is constantly interrupted, constantly made frightening and oppressive, all by the occupation. All by politics.

Avoiding politics is impossible here, though people at home in the US often ask me to. Don't be biased, they say. Support both sides. How can we? When one side is perpetuating such suffering on another, how can we fail to pick sides?

The simple truth is that we must pick a side: the side of justice. But picking the side of justice isn't simple. Picking justice's side doesn't mean cheering for Israel or Palestine, as though this conflict were a football game. It may be difficult, but I believe that we can choose to support both sides. Not politically – for what good is politics any way? – but on a human level. By pursuing a real, meaningful justice through love, we can help to support a solution that will be good for both Israel and Palestine. I say without apology that this solution must involve an end to the occupation and an end to the suffering of the Palestinian people. But this is because through ending the occupation, Israel will find true security. Through an end to injustice, we can all find peace.

It's time to develop a politics of nonviolence. We must stop ignoring all of the examples of nonviolence in our own history and start to take courageous, unapologetic, and loving stands for justice. This is what Palestine needs. It is what Israel needs. And it is certainly what we in the United States needs. Please, for the sake of a people I love so much, do something. In a spirit of love, do something for justice.

Yesterday my telephone rang. "Hello. It's is Um Fadi. The soldiers have entered the village. They are stopping everyone."

"Yalla!" I called. "Let's go." Another activist and I pulled on our shoes, grabbed our passports and ran to the entrance of Harres, the village where we live. Um Fadi lives along the main road into Harres and she often calls us when soldiers show up in the village without warning.

Usually when we get a phone call from Um Fadi the soldiers are simply checking IDs or stopped at the road to Harres for no reason they that will tell us. But yesterday, I knew immediately that something was different. "Go away!" a soldier told me. "Why do you come here? Go back to America!" The soldiers were especially angry and a crowd of Palestinians were gathered. After a few minutes frantic Arabic, the story emerged: the soldiers had taken an 18 year old boy from his home, thrown him in the back of a jeep and would not say where they were taking him. The boy had been studying for his end-of-the-year examinations which would take place the next day.

I found myself standing in front of the boy's Aunt and Grandmother. "They beat him. His face was covered in blood," his Aunt gestured to make the point clear. "Haram! Haram!" his grandmother wailed. In Arabic haram means forbidden. Sinful. Morally wrong. My eyes filled with tears. She was right. Taking a boy from his home before he can put on his shoes, beating him, holding him before his exams, threatening to keep him from graduating from high school, this is sin. There are other terms for it as well: "contrary to international law," "a human rights violation," "undemocratic." But these terms don't seem strong enough.

I placed phone calls to human rights organizations and watched the soldiers, but it soon became clear nothing could be done. So we did what we do often when there is nothing left to do: we walked to Um Fadi's house to have tea. Um Fadi doesn't often talk about painful subjects while we drink tea with her, but yesterday she did. She told us about the time that soldiers entered her house and beat her oldest and another time when they beat her younger son. She told us that her youngest son, 7 year old Ali, wakes up crying whenever he hears loud noises at night. "He comes to me and I hold him. He is afraid that soldiers will come into our house again."

The boy who was taken was brought back to our village an hour later. He was taken home and I do not know if he was able to sit his exams today. I also do not know what I can say about this incident or Um Fadi's stories. No words seem quite strong enough.

Martin Luther King, Jr. once declared "One has a moral responsiblity to disobey unjust laws." When I visited Bethlehem as a part of a Christian Peacemaker Team delegation, I was privileged to met with a wonderful man named Zoghbi Zoghbi, a Palestinian Christian who lives out Dr. King's words. Like most Palestinians, Zoghbi doesn't have the permit necessary to go to Jerusalem, or even venture far from the city he lives in. Zoghbi used to attend the Jerusalem Church of the Redeemer, and his wife sat on their board. It's been eight years since Zoghbi has been allowed legally into Jerusalem, which is only 2 miles from where he lives in Bethlehem. Last year, however, Zoghbi successfully sneaked into Jersualem to attend church on Palm Sunday. If he had been discovered in Jerusalem without a permit, he could have been arrested and sent to jail. But Zoghbi told us "God always smiles when I break an unjust law."

While I have been in the West Bank, I have been so humbled by the amazing number of Palestinians who are choosing peace and nonviolently resisting the Israeli military occupation. Zoghbi wasn't the only Palestinian who tried to go to Jersualem on Palm Sunday. I met with an organization called the Holy Land trust organized which a march to Jerusalem, complete with donkeys and palm branches. They walked towards the checkpoint between Bethlehem and Jerusalem and peacefully confronted the military. In the front of the crowd, they joined arms and simply pushed through the line of soldiers. Sami Awad, nephew of Palestinian nonviolent organizer Mubarak Awad, told me that the soldiers were completely confused and they were able to push through another time. It was a victory for nonviolence, for both Palestine and Israel.
Palestinian nonviolent resistance is vibrant and strong. Here in the West Bank, I have attending many demonstrations and other attempts to resist the occupation. Though we in the United States may not be aware of it, Palestine has a long and powerful history of struggling for freedom without violence and the tradition is in no danger of dieing out.

Almost everyday that I live in Palestine, I break unjust Israeli laws. I've entered closed military zones. I've photographed soldiers. I've broken curfew orders. And I believe that, like Zoghbi said, God smiles every time.