Uprooting the Olive Tree

by Lloyd Philip Johnson

  Najid awoke, blinked, and sat up straight. “I smell coffee.”

  “Enjoy your breakfast.” Ashley chuckled. “No salad or olives.”

  “It’s okay. I’m used to cardboard rolls by now. Did you sleep too?”

  “No. I’ve been thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “Us. And what’s next.”

  “So what did you conclude?”

  “That we have to make a decision soon on what kind of life we are going to have and where.” She knew he would try to extend his visa and permit to stay in America if she wanted him to. He had a position as a teaching assistant and permission to enter the PhD program in zoology at the University of Washington. They’d gone over the possibilities at length. “So where should we go?”

  “I’m not sure. As you know, I have one more month on my current F-1 student visa, and with further graduate studies assured I could probably get permission to stay in the US and funding for another two or more years.”

  “But your heart is back in the Holy Land with your people who are going through a difficult time.”

  “Yeah.” Najid nodded. “It is. But I’m willing to stay with you here through medical school and beyond.”

  “That’s assuming I get accepted. So it’s not something we can count on for one year from now. I could try to get an interim job. But that isn’t very exciting. And the idea of staying here for four more years of medical school and then a bunch more for residency training seems to tie us down for a long time. Then I’d be saddled with a huge debt to pay off my student loans … I don’t know.” Ashley’s voice trailed off into silence.

  She suddenly brightened. “Sweetheart, I’m not sure that’s what we want. I used to think so. But when we have been with both our Israeli and Palestinian friends—” she stopped for several moments gazing intently at the man she loved. “That’s where my heart is. Remember in the Bible what Moabite Ruth said to Naomi at her decision point on whether to cross the Jordan River, not knowing her future in a foreign land? ‘Where you go, I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God … ’”

  Najid leaned over to kiss her and then drew her close over the armrest between them. “That’s where my heart is too, my love. With our friends and family there. And if that is really what you want, then let’s move in that direction. I haven’t told you some news that came in an e-mail just before the wedding.”

  Ashley pulled away. “So, you’re holding out on me again.”

  “Only because we had so much on our plate before we got married.”

  “Is that the only reason?”

  “Not totally. I didn’t want to influence your own ideas about our future. If we are asking for guidance from heaven then I thought that whatever you concluded would either confirm or change the direction I’d like us to take. If we both came to the same conclusion independently and have asked for help … well then that’s probably good enough for charting the initial course. There may be big waves ahead, but we’re not alone in the boat.”

  Ashley pursed her lips, remaining silent for several moments. Then she began to nod. “Okay, I agree. We’ve both been ready for this for months. It’s true our boat’s pretty small and it’s a big ocean out there. But Jesus calms the storms. Anyway, what’s the news that you’ve not been telling me?” Ashley grimaced as she elbowed him in the ribs.

  “Well, I put out inquiries to several universities in Israel and Palestine while brother Sami and I were in Seattle before the wedding. It turns out that the biology department in Bethlehem University is looking for a zoology teacher for their beginning students in the program. Right up my alley as you Americans say, with my teaching experience in Seattle. So they accepted me and would like me to start in one month.”

  Ashley stared at him, frowning. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She looked at him gritting his teeth.

  He inhaled and sighed. “My mid-east ways I guess. I’m sorry.”

  Ashley softened and chuckled. “It’s okay. You mean we could go to the Holy Land knowing you have a job already?”

  “Yup, if we want to accept the position.”

  “So we’d have to find a place to live in Bethlehem?”

  “We could. Or Jerusalem.”

  “But you’re a Palestinian with Israeli citizenship, right? So you could live on either side of the wall?”

  “It’s a bit complicated, but yes. Being an Israeli Arab citizen I could live in Jerusalem and work in the West Bank. But I couldn’t stay there for more than a night or two, or we might lose our right to be in Israel.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they would assume I live in Palestine, and West Bank Arabs are not allowed in Israel.”

  “That complicates the issue of where to live. But what about me?”

  “With your American passport you can travel freely in Israel or Palestine and go back and forth. We’d get you a spousal visa that would allow you to stay indefinitely.”

  “How about living in Bethlehem?”

  “That’s possible too. And we may want to do that. But living in Palestine, I would have to get a permit to enter Jerusalem or anywhere in Israel. It’s a bit schizophrenic because the government in Israel thinks they own Palestine but then treat Palestinians as foreigners if you happen to live in the West Bank.”

  “So to visit your family up north in Galilee or our Jewish friends in Jerusalem, you’d have to get a special permit?”

  “Right.”

  “Difficult to do?”

  “Often is. Seems arbitrary. Sometimes you can get one, many times not. Maybe it depends on whether the permit guy has a headache.”

  “But bottom line, my clever husband, it looks like an open sea ahead. I’m so excited to be going back with such welcoming friends and your family. We can decide where to live once we get there. And I could start out volunteering with some of the humanitarian agencies we already know. Maybe it would turn into a job sometime.”

  “So is that our decision, my lovely American?”

  Ashley laughed and shrugged her shoulders. “I hope so. If it doesn’t work out we can always figure out a way to return and go to school for the next hundred years.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Hading south on the interstate through Seattle, Najid looked over at Ashley in the passenger seat, unusually quiet. The windshield wipers kept up a steady beat, clearing the light rain. Her old Subaru would have to be sold soon, along with several other items before they actually boarded the airplane for Tel Aviv. They crept along with frequent stops in heavy traffic, even in the high-occupancy lane. But unlike the anxiety of being late for a flight, this trip had no fixed-time deadline. Robert Bently, the jihadist bomber, would be in the Federal Detention Center at Sea Tac for nearly a lifetime and afternoon visiting hours on Fridays extended from two to nine. Ashley had called and found she was high on his short-visitors list and could stay as long as two hours.

  “You seem a bit worried, Ashley. I wish I could be with you in the visiting room. But I know I’m not on his friendship roster. Anyway, Robert will be behind glass so you’ll have no safety concerns.”

  “That’s not what I’m worried about. It’s more that a lot of water has flowed under the bridge since I visited him before his sentencing last year. I promised him I would come to see him in prison. I suppose we both have changed. I don’t know what to expect. Maybe he doesn’t want to see me now.”

  “But he asked to have you come.”

  “Yeah, but that was during a time of shock, feeling the heavy hand of justice falling on him for what he had done.”

  “But your two visits then opened him up to good legal advice and a renewed relationship with his parents. And you forgave him after he nearly killed you with the bomb. And he did murder the Rabbi. He appreciated you, Sweetheart. I suspect he still does.”

  “I wish I had been able to see him soon after he arrived in the detention center. He did plead with me to come. But then I flew off to Jerusale
m.”

  ***

  Ashley sat in the empty visitors room just across a broad counter near the glass barrier. She stared in a cold sweat at the door he would come through. This could be very uncomfortable. But she determined to honor her promise to visit Robert again. Now, with plans to leave the US, it could be a long time before the next visit. He could be sullen and silent as he had been on her first visit just after his capture by the police. After all, Najid had tracked him down, and they both were responsible for informing their FBI friend.

  She shifted in her chair. The room, stark with bare yellow walls, smelled musty. Ashley remembered that Robert in jail had dismissed Najid. He couldn’t be there if Robert was going to talk with Ashley. So this time, as in the second visit, she would come alone while Najid stayed in the waiting room. Her heart raced as she tried to calm herself.

  The prisoner door opened as Robert walked toward her followed by a guard. She put her hand on the thick glass barrier between them. He did the same. All her anxiety suddenly melted away as again she visualized the little boy inside the reserved young man dressed in prison orange. Still small, but he looked different than she remembered. The sallow complexion, thin physique, and hateful eyes had disappeared.

  “Oh, Robert, you look so good compared to last time.”

  “Thanks, Ashley.” His voice sounded a bit mechanical coming through a speaker. “I’m learning to live again.”

  The guard left the room. Pulling his chair closer to the window between them, Robert looked at Ashley silently for several moments, shaking his head. “You had such a great effect on my life by forgiving me. I see from your ring that you’re married now. Awesome. To the guy who came with you that first time?”

  “Yes. Just a couple of weeks ago, in Oklahoma. Najid and I just returned to Seattle. I wanted to see you.”

  “I’ve been waiting a long time, you know. I thought you’d forgotten me.”

  “Oh no, Robert! You have been in my thoughts and prayers for nearly a year now. I couldn’t come. We were in Israel and Palestine and then traveled around this country with our new friends from there.”

  “What was that about?”

  “Talking about the same ideas we discussed last year, forgiveness and reconciliation. But in the Holy Land. To groups of mostly young people in various forums.”

  “Why did you do that?”

  “Because the wounds of people can be healed only by forgiving each other. The people of that land are suffering. But there is hope. And maybe we in the US can help bring it about.”

  “You brought me hope too.”

  “So tell me, what happened after we last met? You should know I tried to see you again before your sentencing, but the lawyers wouldn’t let me come.”

  “They told me. I was terribly disappointed. I had no friends, and my parents returned to New York. So when I arrived here, I looked for someone like you to talk to. And I found one. He had started out as a Jesus freak after getting arrested and over a couple years turned into a really nice guy. Him and I have had long talks how God forgives us because of what Jesus did. You know … the cross. I’m starting to believe this stuff and follow him. It sounds like you. And it makes sense.”

  “Really?

  “Yeah. You cared for me, Ashley, despite that I nearly killed you with the bomb. I don’t know what made you come to me, but now I can understand that maybe God loves me too.”

  “Oh Robert, I do care about you! And so does your Heavenly Father.” Ashley leaped out of her chair placing her hand on the glass where Robert stood and with his hand upraised pressed on the other side of the barrier. His eyes watered. She couldn’t stop her tears.

  The guard entered Robert’s room. “Please take your seats.” Ashley laughed despite her wet eyes.

  The clock on the wall raced through the allotted two hours as they shared their thoughts and dreams for the future. His past didn’t even come up—bombing the synagogue in Seattle, killing the rabbi, and severely injuring Ashley. She knew Robert faced a lifetime in prison.

  While Robert expressed his sorrow that Ashley would be far away, she encouraged him in his new friendships and to take advantage of all the training opportunities the prison had to offer. They could stay in touch by e-mail. She reminded him of the couplet: “Two men looked through prison bars; one saw mud, and the other, stars.”

  The guard entered the room again. “Time’s up, Robert.”

  They said their goodbyes with eyes brimming. A tear trickled down Ashley’s face as the guard ushered her friend out of the room. She wondered if she would ever see him again.

  CHAPTER 4

  Ashley slept off and on during the nineteen-hour flight from Seattle to Tel Aviv, with a two-hour layover in New York. Najid slept more soundly. He could sleep anywhere, anytime. She shook her head, looking at her husband snoozing away. Lights, announcements by the captain, drinks, meals—nothing seemed to keep him from drifting off again.

  Nijad didn’t seem to be worried about going through passport control in Ben Gurion as they stood in line in the cavernous airport waiting to talk to one of the Israeli immigration officers behind the austere glass enclosures. The hum of quiet conversations continued as they inched forward in their line.

  “They look pretty severe, Najid. They could make trouble for you as a Palestinian coming through here instead of via Jordan.” Ashley felt her pulse quicken.

  “They’re just bored, Ashley. But as an Israeli citizen, I have the right to enter Israel and to come in here rather than diverting to Jordan. And to bring my wife. Even if I am an Arab. It’d be different if I had not grown up in Galilee. And we did come back here last year for Sami’s injury. So relax. And you’ll have no trouble getting your three-month visa as an American tourist. They like tourists. Just answer their questions very briefly with no explanations. Nothing about working in the West Bank. I’ll handle any details about our going to Jerusalem together.”

  ***

  Speeding along the freeway up the hills to Jerusalem, Ashley sat back in the sherut, the shared taxi that would take them directly to Good Luck, the car rental place in East Jerusalem, with its comfortable seats. Her concern about passport control had proved unnecessary. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and relaxed. A smile crept over her face as she reflected on the name of the outfit leasing the cars.

  Since the small bus had to pass Sheik Jarrah, the Palestinian community just north of the Old City near Good Luck, she and Najid would be the first passengers to get off. She’d learned the Palestinian-owned company, aptly named, provided the only auto-rental agency in Jerusalem that would insure the car in the West Bank. It had the orange license plates that allowed travel in both Israel and Palestine. It would be for one week only while they investigated where to live and what they needed to set up housekeeping in an apartment. Like most young married couples just out of graduate school, expenses always seemed to exceed assets.

  “Do you think it’s okay to accept the invitation to stay with the Friedmans in West Jerusalem? It will certainly help until we can find our own place.”

  “It was generous of them,” Najid said. “I think they meant it. When their Israeli soldier son and my Palestinian brother got together in Hadassah Hospital it was a miracle. Israeli soldier and Palestinian protester, best of friends.” He chuckled. “Couldn’t happen, but it did.”

  ***

  The circular driveway leading up to the elegant stone home with the covered front porch brought Ashley pleasant memories of Yaron and Shiran Friedman and their family. The expansive front lawn with sprinklers going provided the foreground for flowers of every color in several beds. Both pink hibiscus and purple bougainvillea graced a lattice fence behind them. The combined fragrances filled the air. The older couple greeted them warmly. Shiran seemed thinner than Ashley remembered. Yaron, now balding with grey hair, smiled broadly and drew Ashley and Najid into a big hug.

  “Welcome and congratulations on your wedding. We’re so pleased that you let us know y
ou would be coming. You can have the bedroom upstairs we save for guests.”

  “Thanks so much,” Najid replied. “Ashley and I could hardly wait to get back to the land we both love and see you and our other friends again. Is Ariel here?”

  “Not now,” Shiran replied, “but he’ll be returning tonight to see you. Our son lives in a flat near Hebrew University with some other young men. But come in and bring your bags. You probably would like to rest after your long flight. It’s just four now. We can talk tonight when Ariel is here. We’ll plan to eat around seven.”

  Ashley looked at the tastefully decorated home, oriental rugs and expensive furniture, as they carried their luggage upstairs. She recalled her conversation with Shiran about the Palestinian family whose home this had been. They had fled the fighting in the 1948 Nakba, the catastrophe, and were never allowed to return. The bed looked inviting, and with bodies aching to get horizontal, the tired American and her Palestinian husband fell into a deep sleep.

  ***

  After their nap, Ashley felt alive and excited as they descended the stairs to the sound of familiar voices below. “Can you believe it, Najid? We’re actually here in Jerusalem again, with our friends? I hear Ariel’s voice.”

  He sprinted across the living room and enveloped both Ashley and Najid in his arms. “Welcome home you married couple!” he shouted in Hebrew. “I’ve thought of you two every day since we left you in Washington DC.”

  “We’ve missed you too,” Najid replied in Hebrew as they drew apart, gazing at his Israeli friend, both hands clasping Ariel’s.

  “I’ll never forget our being together with the US senators and Chaim making his grand entrance.” Ariel had switched to English. “Sit down.”

  “Speaking of your cousin Chaim, how is he doing?” Ashley asked.