Palestine Diary: Meeting People Whose Only Hope Is Our Anger

This is the second Palestine Diary. Read the first here.

I’m back home in New York after a 10-day trip with a multi-faith delegation to Palestine along with Rabbis for Ceasefire, Christians for Ceasefire, and a wonderful Palestinian organisation, Sabeel. 

I offer this second part of my Palestine Diary, focusing on the main themes that emerged as we connected with Palestinians in the West Bank resisting the Israeli occupation.

We embarked on this journey knowing that the genocide in Gaza was in its 11th month with no sign of abating, and that settler violence in the West Bank was taking place with greater frequency and impunity. We did not know that the Israeli State would conduct a new military invasion in the Northern West Bank just as our trip began.

Each morning, our main guide and trip organiser Omar Haramy of Sabeel, would rearrange our schedule avoiding cities and villages under attack. Sabeel staff constantly made informed and thoughtful decisions about risks too great to take. 

Resistance Through Action, Not Reaction

On August 30, we visited the Tent of Nations, a beautiful organic farm and dwelling owned by the Nassars, a Palestinian Christian family that has lived on this land for generations. Their farm is on the last remaining Palestinian hilltop in this area Southwest of Bethlehem.The Tent of Nations is constantly threatened and attacked by Israeli settlers and the soldiers from the illegal settlements in surrounding hilltops. The motto of the Tent of Nations is “we refuse to be enemies.” 

Daoud Nasser told us that it was very unusual for a family to have original papers that proved their ownership of the land. Since Daoud’s father had made sure to have papers, the family has been fighting in the courts for more than 30 years. They have been harassed in innumerable ways – military bulldozers destroyed their 1,800 fruit trees 10 days before the harvest. They have had 28 demolition orders. The family was even offered a blank check to leave.

The Nassers will not give up so easily. There is no electricity or running water on their land, but the family manages with solar power and rain water. They have made compost toilets. In spite of the severe constraints, their garden yields delicious grapes and figs, which we all tasted. 

The family has felt more and more isolated because the main road to the property was blocked in 2002, and a circuitous route must be taken. Since October 7, the main access has been blocked for people on foot.

Since they are not allowed to build structures on their land, they operate out of the caves that existed when Mrs Nasser was a little girl. We met in their cave office, and I felt I was sitting in a throbbing vein of resistance. 

Bethlehem is just 6 miles away, but the Nassers have to journey much longer because of the ubiquitous apartheid wall that separates not only Palestinians from Israel, but also Palestinians from their land.

The Center for Jewish Nonviolence, an American Jewish organisation, was born out of their partnership with the Tent of Nations. The movement that grew here is one of nonviolence resistance. Daoud says that he and his family refuse to hate. “All people are created in the image of God, good and bad. Our faith is to wait for Justice. One day we will see Justice.” 

Daood told us they will not fight – violence leads to more violence, and there is no end. “There is no winning through violence. We could sit down and cry. But then we will be victims, We could wait for a saviour, but then we will always be waiting. We could run away – actually we cannot run away from a challenge.”

“Peace should grow like an olive tree,” said Daoud whose olive trees were all destroyed by Israeli occupiers. The Nassers welcome tree planting volunteers from all over the world. They run a transformative summer camp for kids. “The children are traumatised and we empower them through creativity.”

We left the Nassers knowing that the settlers have been building structures right on their land, and would be emboldened by the most recent incursions in the West Bank. There was a heaviness to the goodbyes, but also a sense that there is really no losing after three decades of nonviolent resistance.

Arbitrary Detention

The next day, August 31, we traveled to a church in Birzeit village near Ramallah to meet Lulu and Tania Nasir, the mother and godmother, respectively, of Layan Nasir. Layan, 23, was arrested ostensibly for selling cheap stationary to the poorer students in her school, and taking students on nature hikes. She was a charismatic leader in school, and a popular student. 

The Israeli police  warned Layan to stop these activities in school. Perhaps they thought she had the profile of a budding activist. On April 7, in the early hours of the night, the police burst into the family home and took Layan away without any charges, evidence or trial. There are thousands of Palestinians under arbitrary detention, just like Layan. We wept with Lulu as she told us her daughter’s story.

And Tania took our breath away with these prophetic words, “We fear the worst. The Israeli mind is plotting our end. I wonder what they are thinking, the settlers who watch me as I water my plants. The land is our mother – the connection is almost physical. Our olive trees are being butchered, our homes bombed. Their dream is a nightmare for us, but it must also be a nightmare for them. Why should Layan be in prison? This isn’t just a political issue, it’s an existential issue for them as well as us.” 

And then, turning to us, “People like you, trying to feel, trying to help, our only hope is your anger. I pray your anger reaches your governments.” 

Tania is a trained opera singer, and surprised us with an evocative song, which a member of our delegation, Tamara Taha, translated: 

“You are so lucky, oh bird
You are free, and able to move as you wish
And I am an oppressed prisoner
You are so lucky, oh bird
Save me, oh bird
Teach me how to fly
And to be free
And rise above the bullets
With my head held high
Teach me, oh bird
Save me, oh bird.”

My mind turned instantly to Khurram Parvez and Umar Khalid, siblings of conscience to Layan Nasir, and of course martyr to justice Father Stan Swamy, whose letter from prison on his 100th day of captivity stated, “…I am ready to pay the price, whatever be it. But we will sing in chorus. A caged bird can still sing.”

I want these two women to soon hold their beloved daughter in their arms, but while that spacious church room offered me breeze, it offered little hope.

Protective Presence

On September 1, we drove through mountain roads past the Dead Sea off to our right, and into the Jordan Valley to visit a Bedouin community. We were acutely aware that the IDF was conducting “Gaza-style” attacks in the Northern West Bank – drone strikes and bombings, sniper-fire and bulldozing of entire streets and neighbourhoods. Dozens of Palestinians had already been massacred in Jenin, Tulkarem and the Al-Faraa refugee camp in the last two weeks, and hundreds more had to evacuate. 

Though we were at least an hour from Jenin, this road felt like a war zone and the Arabic was erased from all the road signs. 

There were large illegal settlements, probably with armed settlers looking down at the road, all along the way. It was hard for our driver to find the little Bedouin village near Jericho that was our next destination. When he found it, the bus parked at a distance and we walked in the blazing sun to this spare and exposed desert village – just a scattering of tents and animal pens. 

Omar told us to follow his instructions. There were a lot of children and a few Bedouin adults. We learned from one of the women, Fatimah, that armed settlers were coming into their village pretty regularly, both on horseback and on foot, and terrorizing the few families left. They had recently bulldozed the few houses that had stood and ran over all the vegetable gardens. They steal sheep in the middle of the night, and don’t let the Bedouins graze their remaining sheep. As a result, this community isn’t able to adequately feed itself. They can’t leave their land to take their children to the hospital. The children usually go to school, but of late the Palestinian Authority hasn’t been able to pay teachers, so the schools aren’t opening on time. There has also been a steady protective presence of foreigners, especially Americans.

I spoke to Ari, a 25-year-old from both Jerusalem and Queens, NY, who has devoted himself as a volunteer for some months. He does 24 to 36-hour shifts and goes home to Jerusalem to rest and shower. These families have lived on this land for several generations. Fatima moved here after her marriage and has lived here for more than 20 years. The community seemed exhausted and despairing. Ari said that the presence of foreigners does reduce the violence, but it’s very hard to have a constant presence. He also said that the settlers seem to care less and less about people from abroad.

Ari had heard about Alice Kassieh and her family’s struggle in Al Makhrour valley. They had been given a deadline of September 3rd to vacate their land, and there was a call for volunteers to show up for protective presence. He was going to try to get there. We said we hoped to see him there.

Collective Action

Apart from our earlier multi faith prayer vigil at the Rafah crossing to Gaza, our delegation had planned just one protest activity. We ended up doing two.

On August 30, we organised a “blood on your hands” protest at the US embassy. We had t-shirts printed that said, “Hindu/ Jew/ Christian/ Buddhist for Ceasefire” or “Arms Embargo Now.”

The t-shirts were in red, green and black, the colours of the Palestinian flag. Some members of our delegation went inside the embassy to meet with a representative, while the rest of us stood outside, our hands dripping with red paint, singing, “In hope, in prayer, we find ourselves here. In hope and prayer, we’re right here,” and “Ceasefire Now.”

The security guards were almost all Palestinian, and made small talk with Omar. After some time we were told to move to the bottom of the road, which we did without argument. We continued singing as we walked along the road. The drivers of two cars that passed by gave us the thumbs up. Neither the Jewish Israelis nor the few women in hijab that passed engaged with us or made eye contact. One person on the road opposite, at a distance and not visible, yelled something at us angrily. When our friends emerged from the meeting inside, we met them and all sang together before leaving. Our protest lasted about two hours, and there was a steady presence of police and guards the whole time. 

The second action was unplanned. On September 3, we decided to show up in support of the Kassieh family. We sang our protest songs as we climbed the hill to their besieged land. The solidarity tent was filled with local faith leaders – Rabbis, Imams and Catholic priests, who all spoke in strong support of the family. Reverend Isaac Munther, whose devastating and inspiring sermon “Christ in the Rubble” went somewhat viral last Christmas, has been a regular presence, and this was no exception. There were other local leaders including a current member of the Knesset and anti-Zionist Jew, Ofer Cassif, who gave a rousing speech. Cassif has also stood with this family throughout their fight, and was injured by soldiers during a previous solidarity action.

After all the speeches we marched to the edge of the Kassieh family’s land. There were several hundred supporters, and our delegation was invited to sing our songs. Others led the chanting we are used to in the streets of New York and Washington DC, “Free Free Palestine.” and “One Two Three Four, Occupation No More” and of course, “From the River to the Sea, Palestine will be free.”

In fact several times over the week, walking in refugee camps or other areas, children would see this band of foreigners and chant “Free Free Palestine” and we would repeat after them loudly, to their delight.

When we got to the edge of the Kassieh’s land, we saw a line of IDF soldiers. Some of us sat down blocking their path onto the land, while others stood on both sides. We sang our justice songs for maybe an hour. The soldiers let it be known that if we didn’t move they would use stun guns and tear gas. The family decided that it made sense for the protest to move back to the solidarity tent, so we all marched back up. Omar had no doubt that force would have been deployed were it not for the strong international presence. He asked us to tell our friends that we need international delegations to come regularly to provide such emotional and physical protection.

We left the Kassieh family with tears in our eyes because they were very likely to lose this fight. After all, the might of the Israeli State is on the side of the settlers. The Al Makhrour area is a UNESCO heritage site and the government officially “legalised” five illegal settlements on this land. We learned the next day that the solidarity tent had been taken down by the soldiers. The outlook is grim.

Our interfaith delegation was not a fact-finding mission – the facts of the 1948 Nakba, and the ongoing slow Nakba ever since, can be read in innumerable books and articles, and the daily atrocities taking place in Gaza and the West Bank that come to us daily, straight to our phones, a real-life “sound and light” nightmare. Many of our delegation had traveled to the region before, some many times, and over decades. We made this trip at this time of escalating crisis: to be eyewitnesses to the horrors; to listen and learn so that our future advocacy is grounded not just in theoretical knowledge, but in first hand experience and personal relationships; to express our solidarity in person, and to provide protective presence wherever possible during the stay. 

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As I journeyed home, I was bombarded with bad news each time I connected to the internet.

An American woman, Ayşenur Eygi, just 25, was shot in the head and killed by IDF forces. She was participating in a weekly peaceful demonstration in the village of Beita. 

Our delegation was supposed to visit the Balata refugee camp in Nablus, and also the nearby villages of Beita and Huwara. This part of our itinerary was canceled as soon as the IDF began its invasion of the Northern West Bank. 

We had heard from almost every Palestinian we met that international protective presence was a critical factor in reducing Israeli military and settler violence. However, there are many cases where foreigners are killed. This press release from International Solidarity Movement, the organisation Aysenur was volunteering for, states that the demonstration primarily entailed prayer, and lists seventeen other demonstrators killed in Beita since 2020. Rachel Corrie, the American woman slain in Gaza in 2003 as she stood between an Israeli bulldozer and a Palestinian home, also belonged to the same organisation. The murders by the IDF of Rachel Corrie in 2003 and Shireen Abu Akleh in 2022 had no effect on US policy towards Israel. Americans must insist that Aysenur’s death be a turning point in US policy. 

Having visited Palestine and seen the truth of the genocide unfolding – and accelerating – there is no doubt in my mind that each and every one of us, no matter where we live in the world, must make our number one priority to ensure that our government stands with Palestinians, upholds international law, and does all it can to force Israel to stop. 

Our own democracies, as well as peace and stability in the world, require an immediate end to the genocide in Palestine. Nations not taking a stand against this genocide, not standing with Palestine at this hour when the immediate threat is of extermination, will be a dark shadow cast on our collective conscience.

Civil rights in America, freedom and independence in India, end of apartheid in South Africa – these movements and others were built on lives devoted to (and martyred to) the cause. With so many nations in the world, including the ones I call home – the United States, India, and the United Kingdom – complicit in this and other genocides and atrocities, and careening to the far right, only national and global mass movements of resistance will bring back the balance of inclusive democracy.