CPTnet
December 13, 2004

AT-TUWANI REFLECTION: Room for roots

by Carol Rose

The fertile land on the ridge across from the village is striated with
slabs of rock. Chunks of limestone ranging in size from marbles to bread
loaves are also scattered throughout the soil.

Each time we broke the earth with a hoe, we hoped for the latter. Each
time we broke the earth with a hoe, we hoped for the latter:a stone that
we could easily dig out toss aside. Occasionally we scraped the bottom of
holes clear to find platters of rock and left them to start other holes.

In an attempt to get all the trees planted before sundown, or before a
settler attack, we hurried to carve out holes sufficient for the olive
saplings. We placed a tree in each hole and covered the roots with soil
once full of stones.

Having completed one such hole, I placed the tree and readied myself to push
in the soil. Fatima held me back. Sitting on the edge with one leg
outstretched and hoe in hand, she dug outwards. Fascinated, I sat and
fetched out the rocks as she loosened them. She extended the hole in all
directions, scrupulously clearing it of rock after rock.

"This tree," her son explained, "she will call her own." This tree, I
thought, will have room to grow. This cleared land will catch the rare
rain.