CPTnet
April 2, 1998
HEBRON: Personal reflection about al-Atrash family
by Rich Meyer

Yesterday afternoon Yussef sat in the tent with his sister beside
him, kissing him on the cheek. His son Hussam sat across the
tent with Zuhoor beside him, kissing him. Hussam's sister Waleh
passed chocolate candy around; chocolate candy is traditionally
shared when a family member or friend is released from prison, in
the same way that cigars are traditionally given out by new fathers
in the US. After one week in Al Majnoneh military prison, Yussef and
Hussam were released Sunday upon the payment of 1500 shekels ($500)
each. In addition to the fine, they each received three month
sentences, suspended for three years of probation.

What does it mean to live in a society that has developed traditions
for celebrating the release of family members from prison? (The fact
that I as a USonian ask the question indicates that I am white.)

This afternoon I interviewed one young family for matching them with
a North American family in the Campaign for Secure Dwellings. As we
talked about how they were paying for the house, the 23-yr old father
told me that though he did most of the building himself, he still
owed for the roof, which was put on while he was in prison. He got
out a month ago. How long was he in prison? One prison for fifteen
weeks, then moved to a second prison. There, he and two other prisoners
were held for two days in a
closet cell one meter square: "We slept standing up." Then after
one month in a third prison, he was released. What was he in for?
"I was in Jerusalem, walking near the Al-Aqsa mosque. I don't have a
permit to be in Jerusalem. A soldier asked me where I was going, I
said I was going to pray. He said, 'I'll give you a place to pray, in
prison'; so he took me to jail." Four and a half months later the man
is home with his wife, three-year old daughter and 18-month old son. Break
out the chocolates.

This evening I got a ride to town with a 28-year old. He was in prison
in the Negev for six months: Why? "There was a clash in Hebron -- I
was at home. Some kid in the street, maybe 14 or 15, threw a stone
and ran away. A soldier came into my house and arrested me. The
soldier said, 'I know you, I see you drive to Jerusalem to work every
day. Who threw that stone?' I said, 'I don't know,' so he said, 'OK
then, I'm taking you.' And so I was in prison six months." Break
out the chocolates.

These two conversations occured 600 meters and half an hour apart.
In between, my translator and I crossed the road. As we got to the
road, an army jeep slowed and stopped 20 meters from us, then drove
up to us and honked. The soldier in the passenger seat, with his
rifle on his lap, opened his door and said, "Hunh?" I pointed up the
hill and said, "We're going there." "Why?" "I need a ride to town,
there's a car up there." He looked us over, then said, "Go on." We
walked along the road another 20 meters, with the jeep idling along
beside us. When we started climbing the hill, the jeep waited a bit,
then roared off. My translator was steaming. "I live in H1 [the less than
five percent of the West Bank under Palestinian Authority control] -- it's
been two years since I have been treated like that. For two years, I
have been trying to tell myself that we can make peace with them --
then some kid with a gun does that thing to me, and I want to fight."
Hold the chocolates.

So Yussef and Hussam are back at home. The family is now living half
in the tent and half in the house. The house is three rooms, each
about 3m x 4m. It's closed in, with doors and windows in place.

I really enjoy building. The activity itself is so positive that it
defines the word "constructive." People assemble materials in an
orderly and systematic way, each person bringing their skill, each
material in its place, and something beautiful and functional grows
out of the ground to meet a need. As I look at this house I can
hardly believe that someone might intentionally drive a bulldozer
into it. I mean, accidents happen, and if a person working nearby
had some kind of seizure while operating a bulldozer, maybe. But on
purpose? How could they? What could possess someone to do
that?

That is actually the only way I can understand it. On Sunday our
team had our worship in the Al-Atrash tent -- this is the only way we
could worship together and still maintain a presence with the family.
Grandma Hostetler's verse for me for Saturday was from Eph. 6:10-20,
and her prayer for Sunday was "Guide me -- guard me." These two
seemed to fit together. Verse 12: "For our struggle is not
against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the
authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the
spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms."