I have not written to you for a long time, since it seems I would have written more of the same, again and again.
About the rotten fruits of the occupation.
Yet, sometimes things happen which are the little that holds much.
My daughter Reut lives in South Mount Hebron (within the green line of course). The distance between her home and villages in the occupied area of the region is 5-10 minutes ride by car and half an hour by donkey. Even walking doesn’t take that long. Some of my friends from the villages are also good friends of hers as she sometimes joins us in our weekly visits.
Yet, short as this distance is, only she can visit them but they cannot visit her, since there are check points between them.
Some days ago Reut became a mother for the second time and I called my friends to tell them about it. When I told Eid from Umm al-Kheir, he said: “Thank you for sharing. You know,” he added, “what I want to do the most now is to come to Reut and hug you both. But I can’t.”
Silence was between us for a long while.
When I could talk again, I said: “You know Eid, what you’ve said was not a political declaration, nor a bloody event, nor murder or evacuation, not a demolition or any kind of revenge action, and so on. And yet, the pain I’ve felt for all of those (which happen every day) is folded within it.
Silence again. “Yes,” he said. We understand and feel alike.
A day later, exactly the same conversation took place between me and Nasser from Susiya.
I asked him if he had coordinated with Eid. We laughed.
“We are probably from the same tribe,” I added.
“The people who know how to laugh and cry at the same time,
And know how to call things by their true names,
in order to be able to leave their hearts open for compassion.”
With much love to you all,
Erella (on behalf of the members of the Villages Group).