News from Tuwani
I haven't said much about what's been happening in Tuwani here. For once that's because things have been fairly quiet. We are expecting that to change, as settlers have started talking about a "price tag" campaign in the south of the West Bank. But, for now, things have been mostly quiet...for the Tuwani area. Settlers have thrown rocks at Palestinians, they've destroyed a fence, and grazed their sheep on land that Palestinians planted. But I'm thankful that's been the extent of their activity. Here are some of the other things that have been happening in the village:
1. The harvest is pretty much finished! Everyone is happily tired.
2. We're in the middle of celebrating the wedding of one of the young men in the village. I really enjoyed the party last night. I was pretty thrilled to be able to understand the songs the women were singing and actually join in.
3. A good friend of mine is pregnant!
4. It's wicked hot. Really. I'm hoping that the heat breaks soon, as this is still a little early for it .
Hope the wonderful, unoccupied force we call life is treating you just as well.
Showing posts with label everyday life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label everyday life. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Sunday, May 02, 2010
Harvest in At-Tuwani, 2010: The Same Old Beauty
(I know it's been a while, but I'm back in Palestine! More to come over the next few days.)
Harvesting barley is a lot harder than harvesting olives. To harvest barley you have to bend over at the waist, pull up handfuls of dry stalks, and then beat the dirt off of the roots. I’m not embarrassed by my olive picking ability, but I harvest barley only slightly better than your average four-year-old Palestinian kid. After my first couple of hours harvesting barley with the A. family, my hands and arms were red with scratches, but I was smiling.
A couple of years ago, a teammate of mine described how tiring the spring harvest can be. “But it’s a holy sort of exhaustion,” I remember him saying. That’s certainly how I’ve been feeling lately. It’s a simply a joy to harvest barley and wheat with my neighbors. While we work, we laugh and share the latest village gossip. Sometimes, I get to listen to my neighbors sing. Harvesting is good work. I can’t help but feel whole and happy.
“Bring the camera over here,” my neighbor N. said. He pointed to a burned patch in the middle of the field. The patch was about two feet across and three feet long. “Did you hear what happened?” N. asked me. When I shook my head, N. explained. “The day before yesterday, in the morning, settlers set a fire here.” N. told me that F., another neighbor, had seen them. “When he started yelling, the settlers left. Here, “continued N. “Take my picture.” N. stood in the burned patch and posed. I took some video. Then it was time to start working again. When in another hour, the field was harvested and the burned patch ground was barely noticeable. With the farm work for the day done, N., his four year old son, and I walked home. “Come on, let’s run!” said the little boy. N. and I laughed.
“What an evil waste,” said a friend of mine when she heard what about the burnt wheat. We’re not the best people to ask, but one of my teammates estimates that settlers have destroyed 30 to 40 percent of this year’s crop, mainly by grazing their sheep in Palestinian fields. “It’s just plain theft,” remarked another of my teammates. “It’s more than that,” I quipped. “This is ethnic cleansing.”
Still, I can’t help but think about the sound of our laughter as the A. family and I picked barley together. I’m drawn back to the same contradiction I seem to always write about. The occupation is indeed an evil waste. Nevertheless, Palestinians are stronger than this attempt to drive them off of their land. The power joy and beauty – of life itself - remains undaunted.
(I know it's been a while, but I'm back in Palestine! More to come over the next few days.)
Harvesting barley is a lot harder than harvesting olives. To harvest barley you have to bend over at the waist, pull up handfuls of dry stalks, and then beat the dirt off of the roots. I’m not embarrassed by my olive picking ability, but I harvest barley only slightly better than your average four-year-old Palestinian kid. After my first couple of hours harvesting barley with the A. family, my hands and arms were red with scratches, but I was smiling.
A couple of years ago, a teammate of mine described how tiring the spring harvest can be. “But it’s a holy sort of exhaustion,” I remember him saying. That’s certainly how I’ve been feeling lately. It’s a simply a joy to harvest barley and wheat with my neighbors. While we work, we laugh and share the latest village gossip. Sometimes, I get to listen to my neighbors sing. Harvesting is good work. I can’t help but feel whole and happy.
“Bring the camera over here,” my neighbor N. said. He pointed to a burned patch in the middle of the field. The patch was about two feet across and three feet long. “Did you hear what happened?” N. asked me. When I shook my head, N. explained. “The day before yesterday, in the morning, settlers set a fire here.” N. told me that F., another neighbor, had seen them. “When he started yelling, the settlers left. Here, “continued N. “Take my picture.” N. stood in the burned patch and posed. I took some video. Then it was time to start working again. When in another hour, the field was harvested and the burned patch ground was barely noticeable. With the farm work for the day done, N., his four year old son, and I walked home. “Come on, let’s run!” said the little boy. N. and I laughed.
“What an evil waste,” said a friend of mine when she heard what about the burnt wheat. We’re not the best people to ask, but one of my teammates estimates that settlers have destroyed 30 to 40 percent of this year’s crop, mainly by grazing their sheep in Palestinian fields. “It’s just plain theft,” remarked another of my teammates. “It’s more than that,” I quipped. “This is ethnic cleansing.”
Still, I can’t help but think about the sound of our laughter as the A. family and I picked barley together. I’m drawn back to the same contradiction I seem to always write about. The occupation is indeed an evil waste. Nevertheless, Palestinians are stronger than this attempt to drive them off of their land. The power joy and beauty – of life itself - remains undaunted.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Boys on Wheels!
At-Tuwani has a brand new paved road and it's the biggest toy to ever arrive in the village. My teammate Diane has great photos on her blog, Welcome to Tomorrow Morning!
At-Tuwani has a brand new paved road and it's the biggest toy to ever arrive in the village. My teammate Diane has great photos on her blog, Welcome to Tomorrow Morning!
Monday, March 23, 2009
One of those days, Tuwani-Style
People often ask me what a normal day is like here. Sometimes I get cheeky and respond, "no day in Tuwani is ever normal." But let me actually answer that question. Here's what today was like in Tuwani:
In the morning I got up at 7 am and walked out to a place that we call "the gate" with a delegation from CPT. We waited for the kids from Tuba and Magyer Al Abeed to arrive with the military escort (for those of you unfimilar with the details of the situation here, school kids need to walk past an illegal settlement and illegal settlement outpost to get to school and sometimes they're beaten up by settlers and thus require an Israeli military escort to get to school). I explained what our guests were seeing: the illegal (under international law) settlement of Ma'on, the illegal (under international and Israeli law) settlement outpost of Havot Ma'on, land stolen from a close friend and collegue in Tuwani, an orchard planted by the settlers and irrigated lavishly while Palestinians are suffering through a drought, and a field successfully plowed by Palestinians last year that was stolen again by settlers this year. A depressing description to be sure.
After the kids arrived I walked our guests back to Tuwani for breakfast and then ran home to eat something myself before another group arrived. I gave them a tour, introduced them to two community organizers from the village and helped them do some shopping at the women's co-operative. While I was searching for some change, I got a phone call from a shepherd saying "There are settlers out here. Why isn't someone from CPT here?" I assured them that there were two people there already and that someone else was coming out as well. I continued looking for change. Found some. Sat down. Relaxed for twenty minutes.
My teammate Sarah called one of the community organizers in the village so he could come down to our house and begin giving a second presenation, time time to the CPT delegation staying in the village (the group I spoke to at the gate this morning). While they were talking, school ended and the kids started to gather to go home. I hurried up to the gate again, called the army to ask them to come, and spend some time with the kids. The army came - mericifully quickly for a change. Kids left for home. I watched them until they were out of sight and then turned around to come home.
I climbed the hill up to a neighbors house to join the CPT delegation for a lovely lunch prepared for them by the women's co-op. Took a deep breath. Relaxed. When my cell phone started ringing, I pulled it out of my pocket and answered.
I learned from my teammates that the children encourntered settlers on their home from school, after they were out of my sight. Settlers had been grazing sheep near the path the kids take home from school. Even after my teammates had called the army asking them to accompany the children past the settlers, the army abandoned the kids leaving them to walk about a 1/3 of the designate military escort by themselves. The children had to take a detour and hurry home to avoid the settlers. My heart sank.
When I hung up my phone, another teammate told me she had a update about a situation that began unfolding yesterday when a young man from Tuwani, someone I was drinking tea with just the day before, was grazing his sheep in Khourba valley. Settlers arrived and called the army, claiming this young man had thrown stones at them. My teammates were present with video cameras and knew this wasn't true, but the young man was taken to Kiryta Araba police station any way. My teammates and a lawyer followed him. They were all premited to leave yesterday but asked to come back again today. As I was finishing my lunch, another teammate told me that the young man had been released and was back in the village. Everything was okay. It was nice to have good news.
I helped a few CPT delegated prepare for spending the night in smaller villages in the area and then walked home and collapsed on to our couch (it's a couple of mats, but is always the couch I apperciate most). Checked my email and decided to update this blog.
Tomorrow will be another full, not-normal normal day here. We'll help the kids get too and from school and I'll probably spend some time out with shepherds. But for rest of the night, I plan to rest until something rouses me.
And that's one day in the life of a Tuwani CPTer.
People often ask me what a normal day is like here. Sometimes I get cheeky and respond, "no day in Tuwani is ever normal." But let me actually answer that question. Here's what today was like in Tuwani:
In the morning I got up at 7 am and walked out to a place that we call "the gate" with a delegation from CPT. We waited for the kids from Tuba and Magyer Al Abeed to arrive with the military escort (for those of you unfimilar with the details of the situation here, school kids need to walk past an illegal settlement and illegal settlement outpost to get to school and sometimes they're beaten up by settlers and thus require an Israeli military escort to get to school). I explained what our guests were seeing: the illegal (under international law) settlement of Ma'on, the illegal (under international and Israeli law) settlement outpost of Havot Ma'on, land stolen from a close friend and collegue in Tuwani, an orchard planted by the settlers and irrigated lavishly while Palestinians are suffering through a drought, and a field successfully plowed by Palestinians last year that was stolen again by settlers this year. A depressing description to be sure.
After the kids arrived I walked our guests back to Tuwani for breakfast and then ran home to eat something myself before another group arrived. I gave them a tour, introduced them to two community organizers from the village and helped them do some shopping at the women's co-operative. While I was searching for some change, I got a phone call from a shepherd saying "There are settlers out here. Why isn't someone from CPT here?" I assured them that there were two people there already and that someone else was coming out as well. I continued looking for change. Found some. Sat down. Relaxed for twenty minutes.
My teammate Sarah called one of the community organizers in the village so he could come down to our house and begin giving a second presenation, time time to the CPT delegation staying in the village (the group I spoke to at the gate this morning). While they were talking, school ended and the kids started to gather to go home. I hurried up to the gate again, called the army to ask them to come, and spend some time with the kids. The army came - mericifully quickly for a change. Kids left for home. I watched them until they were out of sight and then turned around to come home.
I climbed the hill up to a neighbors house to join the CPT delegation for a lovely lunch prepared for them by the women's co-op. Took a deep breath. Relaxed. When my cell phone started ringing, I pulled it out of my pocket and answered.
I learned from my teammates that the children encourntered settlers on their home from school, after they were out of my sight. Settlers had been grazing sheep near the path the kids take home from school. Even after my teammates had called the army asking them to accompany the children past the settlers, the army abandoned the kids leaving them to walk about a 1/3 of the designate military escort by themselves. The children had to take a detour and hurry home to avoid the settlers. My heart sank.
When I hung up my phone, another teammate told me she had a update about a situation that began unfolding yesterday when a young man from Tuwani, someone I was drinking tea with just the day before, was grazing his sheep in Khourba valley. Settlers arrived and called the army, claiming this young man had thrown stones at them. My teammates were present with video cameras and knew this wasn't true, but the young man was taken to Kiryta Araba police station any way. My teammates and a lawyer followed him. They were all premited to leave yesterday but asked to come back again today. As I was finishing my lunch, another teammate told me that the young man had been released and was back in the village. Everything was okay. It was nice to have good news.
I helped a few CPT delegated prepare for spending the night in smaller villages in the area and then walked home and collapsed on to our couch (it's a couple of mats, but is always the couch I apperciate most). Checked my email and decided to update this blog.
Tomorrow will be another full, not-normal normal day here. We'll help the kids get too and from school and I'll probably spend some time out with shepherds. But for rest of the night, I plan to rest until something rouses me.
And that's one day in the life of a Tuwani CPTer.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
At-Tuwani Reflection: Swings and Roundabouts
By Jan Benvie
8 October 2008
This summer the at-Tuwani villagers organized a two and a half week summer camp for local children. The children loved the fun of the camp. New play equipment had been donated and it was sometimes difficult to tell who enjoyed the swings, seesaws and roundabouts more, the children or the adults!
However, under Israeli military occupation, summer camp is not all fun.
During the school year the Israeli army escorts children from the villages of Tuba and Maghaer al-Abeed to school in At-Tuwani, because they are in danger of attack from Israeli settlers living in the nearby illegal settlement and settlement outpost. Prior to the camp, villagers contacted the DCO (the Israeli military division that administers civilian affairs in the Occupied Palestinian Territories) and requested an army escort for the children. They received an ambiguous reply, and some days the army escorted the children to camp, on others they did not.
On Friday 25 July, CPTer Jessica Frederick and I stayed overnight in Tuba. The following morning we left the village at around 7:30 am and walked with the children, aged between six and 15 years old, to the edge of the Israeli settlement, where they meet the army escort.
The children were happy as we walked along. It was camp day! They were all proudly wearing their summer camp T-shirts and baseball caps, given out the previous day. They ran and skipped along the road, laughing and joking. Suddenly, we heard shouts and saw Israeli settlers walking towards us from the outpost. The fun-loving atmosphere instantly evaporated. The children moved into family groupings, the older clearly taking on a protective role towards the younger. Only three days previously the children had been chased by settlers, one masked and carrying a stick.
We immediately called the army escort, but the soldiers refused to come because they did “not have orders." The settlers stood some distance away, but continued to yell. The children, although clearly petrified, told us they still wanted to walk to the camp – not by the shorter, direct route they take with the army, but a longer, slightly safer one.
It was shocking to watch the children as we made our way to at-Tuwani. Two older boys ‘scouted’ ahead with me, directing me where we needed to be more cautious. Jessica walked behind the children, still tightly knit in their family groups. When the path forced us to pass within sight of the outpost, the children almost crawled along the ground, anxious not to be seen by the violent settlers living there.
That day the settlers did not attack, but their shouts and jeers, their very presence, were enough to inflict horrific fear in the children.
Abusers do not need to beat their victims daily. They beat their victims often enough to intimidate and frighten them. Then a mere threat is enough to terrorize.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Well, it's been a while since I've posted. Sorry about that. It's been busy and I've been tired. I've been in the middle of one of those times when what I see has felt so overwhelming that I don't know what to say about it.
But Tuwani is still filled with new beginning and opportunities for change. A. had a healthy baby boy. His name is Tamar and he is one of those children who will be beautiful from his first breath. We sat and stared at him, the joy of his very existence was too overwhelming for words. Soon we found something to laugh about. A. told us that she drove to the hospital one the one day the when roadblock was removed and the road to Yatta open. She smiled and I shock my head with the wonder of it all.
So here are prayers for Tamar to always find open roads in his life.
But Tuwani is still filled with new beginning and opportunities for change. A. had a healthy baby boy. His name is Tamar and he is one of those children who will be beautiful from his first breath. We sat and stared at him, the joy of his very existence was too overwhelming for words. Soon we found something to laugh about. A. told us that she drove to the hospital one the one day the when roadblock was removed and the road to Yatta open. She smiled and I shock my head with the wonder of it all.
So here are prayers for Tamar to always find open roads in his life.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Dear Israeli Military: Stop Toying with my Emotions!
It's a simple story. A couple of days ago (I've lost track of time, so I'm a little hazy. Sorry) the Israeli military took down the huge roadblock that has been stopping water delivery this summer. Everyone in Tuwani was happy. This morning I called a taxi and enjoyed waiting for it's arrival at my house, while I ate some breakfast. I hopped in and I enjoyed the wind coming through the window. I started to relax. But then we pulled out of the Tuwani road and I see a 3 ft. high mound of dirt blocking our path. While the driver pulled a few death-defying maunvers, I shock my head unable to process what I was seeing. A new road block. Not as bad as the last, but still enough to prevent water trucks. I picked up the phone to rely the bad news.
And this is all I have to say - I would apperciate it if the Israeli military would kindly keep the road open for more than 24-hours at a time. People need water. Moreover, people have a right to freedom of movement. And it would do my stress level some good too.
It's a simple story. A couple of days ago (I've lost track of time, so I'm a little hazy. Sorry) the Israeli military took down the huge roadblock that has been stopping water delivery this summer. Everyone in Tuwani was happy. This morning I called a taxi and enjoyed waiting for it's arrival at my house, while I ate some breakfast. I hopped in and I enjoyed the wind coming through the window. I started to relax. But then we pulled out of the Tuwani road and I see a 3 ft. high mound of dirt blocking our path. While the driver pulled a few death-defying maunvers, I shock my head unable to process what I was seeing. A new road block. Not as bad as the last, but still enough to prevent water trucks. I picked up the phone to rely the bad news.
And this is all I have to say - I would apperciate it if the Israeli military would kindly keep the road open for more than 24-hours at a time. People need water. Moreover, people have a right to freedom of movement. And it would do my stress level some good too.
Friday, August 08, 2008
Christian Destruct-o Teams!
The things that we overhear in the South Hebron Hills constantly astound and amuse me. But a few weeks ago, a soldier in a mushroom-shaped camo hat opened this mouth and topped everything I’ve heard so far.
We were standing at a flying checkpoint inside At-Tuwani that soldiers told us would last from 9 pm to 6 am and no one, Palestinian, Israeli, or otherwise, was very happy. The mayor of At-Tuwani, a man with far more patience than I have, was managing to have a discussion with one of the soldiers.
“Who are these people?” the soldier asked, indicating my teammates.
“You know, they’re hariket isalaam (the peace movement),” replied the mayor.
“No,” retorted the soldier. “They’re hariket il harb (the movement of destruction).”
But the soldier wasn’t done educating our Palestinian partners about us yet. “You know,”he said, “They only do this because they’re making lots of money.”
I think that At-Tuwani’s mayor cracked a disbelieving smile as he looked at over at us, in dirty clothes and holding bargain basement cameras. My teammates were busting up in the background, not even trying to contain their laughter. All I can say is that I’m still waiting for my check.
The things that we overhear in the South Hebron Hills constantly astound and amuse me. But a few weeks ago, a soldier in a mushroom-shaped camo hat opened this mouth and topped everything I’ve heard so far.
We were standing at a flying checkpoint inside At-Tuwani that soldiers told us would last from 9 pm to 6 am and no one, Palestinian, Israeli, or otherwise, was very happy. The mayor of At-Tuwani, a man with far more patience than I have, was managing to have a discussion with one of the soldiers.
“Who are these people?” the soldier asked, indicating my teammates.
“You know, they’re hariket isalaam (the peace movement),” replied the mayor.
“No,” retorted the soldier. “They’re hariket il harb (the movement of destruction).”
But the soldier wasn’t done educating our Palestinian partners about us yet. “You know,”he said, “They only do this because they’re making lots of money.”
I think that At-Tuwani’s mayor cracked a disbelieving smile as he looked at over at us, in dirty clothes and holding bargain basement cameras. My teammates were busting up in the background, not even trying to contain their laughter. All I can say is that I’m still waiting for my check.
Sunday, July 06, 2008
Buckets and Demonstrations
"Mumkin daloo?"
Every evening when the heat breaks and it's time to draw water from the well, the children of at-Tuwani come to our house and ask us for our bucket. Our bucket is small and gray and exactly the same as every other bucket in the village; I think it's purely the thrill of asking us crazy foreigners "mumkin daloo?" ("Can we have the bucket?") that keeps the kids coming. Usually we hand over the bucket and return to whatever we were doing. But last night, my teammate Sarah politely turned down our young neighbors.
"We're on strike today. We're having a demonstration," she explained. "I'm very sorry, but I can't give you the bucket."
The reason for our daloo (bucket) demonstration was simple. The previous evening, seven-year-old Samih never returned our bucket. He forgot it and left it to spend the night at the well, not making its way home until yesterday afternoon. My teammates decided to express our discontent the firmest and most easily understandable way we could - through nonviolent resistance.
The girls asking for our bucket knew immediately what we meant by "demonstration." Here in At-Tuwani even the youngest child can tell you about the violence and injustice that the village is facing. Children alert us when the army sets up a checkpoint at the entrance to the village and they have christened our frayed Oscar the Grouch doll "Gadalia" after the armed Israeli settler who threatens their parents routinely. But from the oldest man in the village to the young girls who asked for our bucket, everyone in At-Tuwani also understands how the village is resisting the Israeli occupation of their land. Children observe their parents nonviolently confronting Israeli soldiers. Little boys accompany adults as they graze their sheep on their land in defiance of threats made by Israeli settlers. Women clear away roadblocks knowing they might be arrested. Everyone is familiar with nonviolent demonstrations and our neighbors vigorously debate their strategies.
Recently Sarah interviewed one of my favorite little girls for a short video on life in the village. "My name is Amira," she explained. "I live in At-Tuwani. I love At-Tuwani because…no!" she declared. "I don't love At-Tuwani. There are settlers and soldiers and they always cause problems!" Amira may be well aware of the situation facing her as she grows up, but she is also learning what resistance means under the tutelage of her parents and relatives. A few months ago she sagely informed me, "Wherever they go, soldiers always cause problems, but they don't come to Tuwani as often now because the people here are strong." When Amira grows up, whatever challenges her village faces, I'm sure she will be ready to organize nonviolent actions far more powerful than a "mumkin daloo" strike.
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
So,What Do You Do, Any way?
It's been a while since I've described what my day-to-day life actually looks, but I understand that inquiring minds would like to know. So, here are the nitty-gritty details.
In the morning, around 7am, we've been accompanying Palestinian shepherds as they graze their sheep. Particially, that means we pull out video cameras and binoculars, sit on rocks and if settlers arrive or begin to attack, we document and follow the direction of Palestinians. The idea is to have record of what is happening here, to support Palestinians in reclaiming their land by grazing on it, and to be available to physically 'get in the way' during settler attacks, if Palestinians request it.
We finish up with shepherding by the time it gets unbearably hot, usually around 10:00 am. During the afternoon, we're on call for other emergencies - checkpoints, soldiers in the village, settler attacks - or surprise visits from the UN! We also give tours of the area and try to keep our tiny house neat.
And we play and chat with our wonderful neighbors, like these beautiful people:
\
Harvesting Wheat
Climbing all over CPTers!
It's been a while since I've described what my day-to-day life actually looks, but I understand that inquiring minds would like to know. So, here are the nitty-gritty details.
In the morning, around 7am, we've been accompanying Palestinian shepherds as they graze their sheep. Particially, that means we pull out video cameras and binoculars, sit on rocks and if settlers arrive or begin to attack, we document and follow the direction of Palestinians. The idea is to have record of what is happening here, to support Palestinians in reclaiming their land by grazing on it, and to be available to physically 'get in the way' during settler attacks, if Palestinians request it.
We finish up with shepherding by the time it gets unbearably hot, usually around 10:00 am. During the afternoon, we're on call for other emergencies - checkpoints, soldiers in the village, settler attacks - or surprise visits from the UN! We also give tours of the area and try to keep our tiny house neat.
And we play and chat with our wonderful neighbors, like these beautiful people:
Kids from the pink house at the top of the hill
\Watching for Settlers
Harvesting Wheat
Climbing all over CPTers!Monday, April 21, 2008
Tractors are Awesome:
Warning: This post has no political content. It's about my everyday life in Tuwani.
I keep a running list of things in Palestine that might kill me. Until yesterday, the list read as follows:
Israeli settlers
Israeli soldiers
Palestinian taxi drivers
Poisonous spiders
Poisonous vipers
Feral dogs
Smoke inhalation (from our rickety wood stove)
Falling into the well
Hyenas
Then yesterday I was walking home to Tuwani from the village of Karmel quietly minding my own business. I watched a tractor drive past me and then stop in the middle of the road. The tractor wasn’t pulling any cargo; the drive was just sitting comfortably in the seat driving the engine back home. A Tuwani resident hopped on the back and gestured for me to follow. I climbed aboard, hooking my backpack over the back of the driver’s seat, and perched myself above one of the down over the opposite wheel. The driver gunned the engine and we started trundling down the road towards Tuwani. Immediately, I realized that ridding over the wheel of a tractor was much more dangerous than it looked. Coming over the remains of the roadblock, I realized that it might even be a good way to die.
When we arrived in Tuwani, the driver stopped the tractor at the base of the hill to our house. I must have been grinning like a fool as I climbed down. Definitely the coolest way to die in Palestine.
Warning: This post has no political content. It's about my everyday life in Tuwani.
I keep a running list of things in Palestine that might kill me. Until yesterday, the list read as follows:
Israeli settlers
Israeli soldiers
Palestinian taxi drivers
Poisonous spiders
Poisonous vipers
Feral dogs
Smoke inhalation (from our rickety wood stove)
Falling into the well
Hyenas
Then yesterday I was walking home to Tuwani from the village of Karmel quietly minding my own business. I watched a tractor drive past me and then stop in the middle of the road. The tractor wasn’t pulling any cargo; the drive was just sitting comfortably in the seat driving the engine back home. A Tuwani resident hopped on the back and gestured for me to follow. I climbed aboard, hooking my backpack over the back of the driver’s seat, and perched myself above one of the down over the opposite wheel. The driver gunned the engine and we started trundling down the road towards Tuwani. Immediately, I realized that ridding over the wheel of a tractor was much more dangerous than it looked. Coming over the remains of the roadblock, I realized that it might even be a good way to die.
When we arrived in Tuwani, the driver stopped the tractor at the base of the hill to our house. I must have been grinning like a fool as I climbed down. Definitely the coolest way to die in Palestine.
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