"Of course we will change things"
Demonstration in Jayyous 11 July 2008. About a hundred people gathered at one of the agricultural gates to commemorate the four year anniversary of the decision of the ICJ that deemed the wall illegal under international law and asked Israel to remove it.
The Wall drives its way into Jayyous land.
It is eight thirty in the morning and I am sitting in Abed's garden looking out over the valley north of Jayyous. I have been at the agricultural gate and seen the farmers pass through the wall to the other side, where their fields and greenhouses are. On the way up the hill to the village, Abed invited me to have a cup of tea. The view is breathtakingly beautiful with the olive trees, the mild colours and the soft morning light. "This is the best view in the world," says Abed. "When I sit here with my coffee I never want to leave." I agree, but I cannot help thinking that it would be even more beautiful without the wall. The wall, which here in Jayyous is a fence surrounded by wide strips of yellow gravel and barbed wire, is winding itself like a snake through the landscape.
A few days earlier, I was talking to Bodour, a young student in Jayyous. She is active in Stop the Wall, a grassroots organisation working against the occupation. I asked her what made her become active in Stop the Wall: "Many people in Jayyous are suffering because they don't have permits to go through the wall to access their land. I hope that I can make some difference."
Her own family has this problem. Bodour has two brothers who are in prison and that in itself is considered reason enough for Israel to deny all members of her family permits. Seventy percent of the agricultural land belonging to Jayyous is on the other side of the wall and only 168 of the 3 500 inhabitants have the special permit required to visit the land that they have cultivated for generations.1
Stop the Wall arranges tours to places that have been especially affected by the wall, for example Qalqilya, a city close to Jayyous that is completely surrounded by the wall. Another of their missions is to encourage young, educated people to stay in Palestine instead of searching for a better life abroad. Brain drain is a huge problem here.
Bodour confirmed what I have heard from others – that there were more people fighting the wall in the beginning, when it was being built. Now it has been a fact for a long time. "A lot of people think that it doesn't matter what we do, but we must keep fighting. Of course we will change things. The wall will be destroyed," said Bodour.
I think about that when I sit in Abed's garden. His sheep and goats are around us, roaming the garden looking for food. Every once in a while, Abed jumps up from his chair to chase the animals away from the fig trees. He speaks lovingly of them – he tells us who is the parent of whom, what their ages are, and how good it is for the children to drink pure sheep's milk. He continues talking about food – "mutton, almonds and figs are very healthy." Not once does he mention the wall or the occupation, which is rare in Jayyous where the conversations usually revolve around these topics. Abed is of course privileged – he has a good education from India and a good job. Unlike most people here, he is not dependent on farming to make a living. Lucky for him, since farming is extremely hard when so few people can go their fields.
Abed's wife Duhaja comes out of the house with their youngest child, Ahmad. Abed takes him in his arms and gives him a kiss. He seems to be a happy man. I look out over the valley again and Bodour’s words come back to me – "of course we will change things." I think that she is right – there will come a day when it is completely normal for people in Jayyous to talk about sheep rather than the wall.
1. UNRWA/UNOCHA. "The Humanitarian Impact of the Barrier," July 2008.
