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I'll let you in on a little secret - officially I'm here in Israel to work with Bedouin women's organizations, but (here's the secret) I was kinda hoping to achieve peace in the Middle East while I was here.  When I've broached that topic with folks here, a common reply is "It's complicated".  I've spent some time trying to understand the complicating factors.  This past weekend I felt a glimpse.

As part of my journey to and through Israel, I've visited and slept in a variety of places.  I've slept on planes, trains, buses, and outside under an open-air tent.  I've spent the majority of my nights in the apartment I'm subletting in Beer Sheva.  I've visited friends and colleagues in their apartments.  Temporary places.

This weekend I visited and stayed with a Palestinian family in the village their family has lived in for generations.  As soon as I walked into their house (pictured above), I felt immediately at ease.  I was more relaxed than I've been at any point in my stay.  I hadn't realized how temporary those other places felt until I walked through their door - the door of the place they have lived, are living, and plan to keep living in for a very long time.  In other words, I felt a home.  Not my home, but a home.

That feeling helped me understand the heart of the conflict in this area.  Jews and Palestinians both want that feeling.  They both want to feel at home.  And they both believe they can only get that feeling from the same piece of geography.  This is not a great insight for most folks, but for me there's a difference between knowing something and feeling something.  And, thanks to the hospitality of this family, I feel like I understand the complicated situation more clearly.

By the time most of you read this a decision will have been made regarding the future of the house pictured at the right.

A court hearing is being held today, July 14th in the city of Ramla.  The court will officially decide whether or not to demolish this home along with 12 others in the village of Dahmash.  Dahmash is one of many "unrecognized villages" in Israel-Palestine.  It's a village of roughly 70 families and 600 residents.

I've been here for less than two months, which means I can't speak with authority on the status of "unrecognized villages" but I can share with you  the perspectives I've heard and questions I have.

My understanding is this:  As a result of the conflicts in 1948 and 1967 the Israeli government either was given, or won by force, lands in this region.  Some of this land was actively occupied by Palestinians who had been living on it for generations.  The Israeli government is responsible for, among other things, national planning and security.  The government gets to decide what which lands will be used for agricultural, residential, military, etc. purposes.  In many instances, the government has designated the land inhabited by Palestinian families to be used for purposes other than residential which renders all of the homes on that land illegal.  In the cases where Palestinian families choose not move, they become part of an "unrecognized village".  Homes in an unrecognized village receive no support from nearby municipalities: no access to the electrical grid, no water and sewage services, no bus service, no official addresses, no trash collection.  I wish I'd taken a picture of the mountains of trash located with a few hundred yards of the very nice house pictured above. 

Families living in an unrecognized village exist under the constant threat of having their home demolished.  The government can decide that specific houses need to be removed and arrive with bulldozers to accomplish that purpose.  The rationale behind choosing which homes are destroyed is unclear to me.  It's my impression that the families who lose their homes are not compensated in any way and may even be required to pay the city for the cost of the bulldozers and manpower used to destroy their homes.

So my questions are:  How do home demolitions reduce tensions or promote stability in this country and region?  What's the logic behind it?  From a humanitarian perspective, how are home demolitions just and morally justifiable?

Yesterday I witnessed a group of people asking those questions.  There was a march from the City Hall of Ramla to Dahmash.  I'm glad to report that the portion of the march I saw was entirely peaceful and gives me hope that there are a good number of people who want justice and fair treatment for everyone.  The march was significant because it marked the first time that a primarily Arab (though there were plenty of Jews in the crowd too) march was allowed to pass down the main street of the city.  I was told both by members of the march and a member of the police force that peaceful, legal marches, such as this one, were usually heavily stipulated - the pro-Palestinian marches were not allowed to pass through Jewish neighborhoods and vice versa.  This march was entirely legal.  The organizers received permission from the city officials and received the protection of city police.

I hope the march achieved its goal of stopping the demolitions and paved the way for peaceful talks between the residents of Dahmash and the government.

Wedding Roots

About a week-and-a-half ago Amny told me that I'd been invited to the wedding of the son of one of the women (Nama from the video a few posts ago).  Awesome! I was really excited to see a Bedouin wedding.

About 4 days ago Amny told me that it wasn't actually the wedding ceremony, but part of the week of celebration leading up to the ceremony.  Still cool!  Several of the other women I've been working with said they'd be there too.

About an hour before we arrived at the celebration Amny told me that once we got there, I'd be sent to the men's areas, while she went to the women's area.  Quick mental calculation...number of Bedouin women I've met while working with Bedouin women's organization: dozens; number of Bedouin men I've met while working with Bedouin women's organizations: zero.  I got a little nervous at that point, but could only laugh and go with the flow.

We arrived pretty late in the evening after the party had been going on for a while.  There were two large, courtyards, one for the men, and another one, this one with walls, for the women.  There was no mingling of the men and women except as they arrived or left the party.  Amny found a group of teenage boys and requested that one of them escort me into the men's area and show me around.  I was quickly adopted by the little guy in the middle.  He wasn't at all shy and knew enough English to show me around a bit.  The men's area was a big open area with blankets and pillows and fires heating the tea characteristic of the Bedouins.  Some men were just lounging around on the pillows while others were singing and dancing together.  For about 15 minutes my guide enjoyed having me as the focus of his show-and-tell show. Once he'd introduced me to everyone he had the patience for, he deposited me on a blanket and wandered off. 

At which point I was adopted by another little guy who introduced me to some older guys.  These two guys and I hit it off and spent the rest of the evening talking about America and Israel.  They wanted to visit America, but were nervous about the reception they'd receive.  I was glad to reassure them that there are plenty of Americans that don't hate Arabs.  

This wedding celebration was unusual for me, for obvious reasons.  It was also unusual by the standards of a significant number of Negev Bedouins.  This wedding was the first, and likely to be the only, wedding for both the bride and groom. In comparison, it's estimated that over one third of the marriages in this region are polygamous.  The man is allowed to have up to four wives and often exercizes that option.

As I've mentioned several times in this blog, I'm interested in root issues or problems that contribute to other problems.  Last week while we met with a representative from the Middle East Partnership Initiative (MEPI) Amny described polygamy as a root issue in this region.  It's hard for me to fathom the emotional and mental impact of being one of four spouses, a not so significant other.  The saying, "If momma ain't happy, nobody's happy" takes on a different meaning.  Rates of depression among the women are disproprotionately high.  This naturally has an enormous negative impact on her children.

All of the Bedouin women's groups that I'm working with are trying to tackle the issue of polygamy, though many of them can't approach it head on.  It's too sensitive in this culture.  Instead, they address economic empowerment among women, or they weave women's rights into literacy courses, or they talk about mental and emotional health in the clinics.  After four weeks here, I can't say that I understand the complexity of it, but I am more and more in awe of the pioneering women I'm working with.  They've made significant progress in just 10 years.