CHAPTER 57
The company commander stormed into Gilad’s barracks outside Bethlehem, part of a nearby settlement.
“Private Gilad Rosenbaum!”
“I’m here, Captain.” Gilad leaped to his feet from sitting on the edge of his bunk and saluted. He had just taken off his boots after another day of house demolitions.
“Get your boots on and come with me.”
“Yes, sir!” Gilad slipped them on and followed the officer into his office, a plain cinder block building with a desk and facing chair.
“Sit down, Private.” The Captain showed Gilad a piece of paper signed at the bottom. “Is this a letter from you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you realize the implications of sending me this statement? That it could send you to the brig for who knows how long?”
“I do.”
“This declares you will no longer obey orders in the matters of demolitions or breaking and entering terrorists’ homes in defense of your country. Is that what you intend?”
“That is correct.”
“Do you understand that a dishonorable discharge could affect you for the rest of your life in terms of employment opportunities, where you can live, your freedom of participating in government?”
“I am not aware of all of these. I only know I cannot continue doing what I’m doing.”
“Why? Don’t you understand you must obey orders? Anything less is insubordination. And under military law must be punished.”
“Why? Because what I am told to do is wrong. I cannot live with myself and continue to destroy families and their homes so we can take their land. I understand you will court-martial me. And I will tell the judge that what we are doing in the West Bank is inhuman. I will go to jail willingly rather than continue to do what my heart tells me is evil. This occupation is wrong. We are not defending ourselves. We are the aggressors. I cannot go on supporting it.”
The captain glowered at Gilad. He picked up the phone and within a minute a military policeman appeared in the doorway. “Take this soldier to the brig and lock him up. Tell the sergeant I’ll have the orders there in a few minutes.”
The policeman clamped handcuffs on Gilad’s wrists and grabbed his arm, escorting him to the brig. Gilad smiled. It felt like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He would sleep tonight.
***
Captain Chaim Friedman began to take off his dusty flight suit in his small private room of the officers’ quarters. He enjoyed the air conditioning after a hot day flying his helicopter in the desert heat of the Negev. He would shower and then go to the officer’s mess for dinner. The phone rang. It would probably be Gavriella with something about the kids.
“Captain Friedman here, shalom.”
“Shalom, Captain.”
Gilad’s return of peace startled Chaim. “Who is this?”
“Gilad. The soldier you met at Ashley and Najid’s flat. Both Sami and Ariel were there along with you and Gavriella. And Mustafa.”
“Oh yes. Of course I remember. You were struggling with what to do because you couldn’t continue what you were doing in the IDF.”
“Yes, sir, and you said you would never repeat your tragic mistake whatever the cost to you.”
“That’s correct. I will not injure civilians, ever. And I am paying the price by being stuck down here in the Negev. It’s not hell, but it’s just as hot. So what’s up with you, Gilad? What’s happened?”
Gilad related what had just happened a few hours ago at his commander’s office, quizzing him about his refusal letter. Even though he’s in military confinement, he hadn’t felt so free and light-hearted in two years. “I just thought I’d let you know the follow-up. I’m open to any advice you might have. I think I’ll tell the judge everything I’ve done and let him decide whether it was the right thing to do. I’m so relieved to not have to go out and demolish more homes or terrorize families in the night. So as crazy as it seems, I’m happy to be here in jail.”
Chaim remained silent for a moment. “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. But I admire you for doing what your heart tells you to do. I did too and still have no regrets.”
“Do you have any advice for me, sir?”
“Gilad, I don’t at the moment. I applaud you for doing the right thing. I’ll have to think about your situation. Whether I could be of any help. I don’t know. Let me talk to a friend or two and let’s see where things stand. Call me before you go to the military court.”
CHAPTER 58
Uri knew his meeting with the prime minister in his Jerusalem office could be the death knell of his political career. He braced himself as he entered the office of the Israeli leader.
“Sit down, Uri. You probably know there is talk about your activities in behalf of Palestinians in the Supreme Court. It is highly unusual for a cabinet minister and member of the Knesset representing your country to argue for Palestinian terrorists who bring appeals against our policies. I would like to know why you did that, particularly when the decisions of the military court are under the jurisdiction of defense, and not in your interior ministry.”
“Because it was the right thing to do in both cases.”
“As I understand it, both situations involve security issues, in one case an attack on our soldiers, and in the other, taking state land for the protection of one of our communities in northern Samaria. It sounds like both were legitimate actions that you tried to reverse. You argued for our enemies who are constantly working against us in developing our Jewish state. Why would you support the other instead of our own interests?”
“For two reasons. First, I don’t agree with arresting a ten-year-old boy at all, and then holding him while not being able to prove any charge against him.”
“You know it is our policy to make no distinction of age in protecting our soldiers, young or old. Any resistance to them must be punished.”
“I do understand our policy. In the second case a farmer is going to lose the orchard he has worked for many years, in favor of expansion of one of our communities in Samaria. It’s his livelihood, his life.”
“Again, Uri, you know that it is for security reasons and the need for more land as the so-called settlements grow. Greater Israel is gradually emerging as part of the singular attachment to the land we’ve had for three thousand years, from the river to the sea. This is the Zionist dream we’ve been pursuing for decades, and we don’t want our own leaders trying to stop it.”
Uri fixed his gaze on his colleague, silently for several moments. “Remember Nathan’s story told to David in the Bible? About the king with many sheep, taking for his feast the one and only sheep of a poor peasant? Well, I represented a peasant in the Supreme Court who had no other access to plead for justice.” He felt his face flush as he visualized Faisal standing in front of the bulldozer, the symbol of American and Israeli might. He nodded and remained silent.
“Is that all you have to say?”
“No. I have a second reason, as I mentioned. I owe my life to a Palestinian, and he asked for my help in these two cases.”
The prime minister bolted up straight in his chair, eyebrows shooting up. Uri knew the PM had none but rare, official contact with Palestinians and then only at the highest level. He then told the story of Najid and Ashley saving his life during his cardiac arrest.
“This has nothing to do with politics. It is only human to be grateful to a wonderful young couple who are responsible for my even being here. And I learned for the first time that these Palestinians, a university professor, a farmer and his wife, and the family of a ten-year-old boy, are not terrorists but ordinary people who love each other and want to live in peace. Just as we do. Now, I would go to the ends of the earth for Najid, Ashley, and their friends. That is why I did this. If you want to discharge me from the Cabinet, that is your prerogative.” Uri stood and walked over to a speechless prime minister, shook his hand, and left.
He assumed he would be terminated fr
om his cabinet role but still remain as a member of the Knesset. Whatever they decided to do with him, he had a new lease on life, literally in his heart, but also in his mind and soul. He had stepped out of the darkness of oppressing the other. He would not look back.
CHAPTER 59
Fatima sat across the table from Sami, their last dinner in the Haifa apartment. “I can’t wait until tomorrow,” she said, anxious about Ali’s release from prison.
“I feel the same.” Her mother Jamilah laughed. “Can you imagine Ali’s face when he realizes we’re going to take him home?”
Saleh beamed. Fatima waited for her father, who often remained silent while others talked. “This has been beyond belief, an Israeli Cabinet minister in the Supreme Court getting our little boy free at last. Allah is merciful. We must thank Uri Katsman somehow. And Jamal, who prepared the case. And don’t forget Ashley and Najid who got the Israeli to help us in the first place.”
“That brother of mine always seems to get others out of trouble,” Sami said. “I think that’s why Ashley married him.”
“Oh, Sami, they love each other. That’s why they married,” Fatima protested.
“I suppose so. And they decided it when their families weren’t even there!” He winked at Fatima.
“But, Sami, your parents liked Ashley right away, didn’t they?”
“Yes, but hers didn’t like Najid. Not for a long time.”
“But they changed, didn’t they?”
“They finally decided to let their daughter marry a Palestinian terrorist.”
Saleh had his mouth full and nearly exploded with laughter, trying desperately to keep everything in.
Sami remained deadpan as Fatima laughed, watching her father’s struggle for decorum.
Jamilah smiled and chuckled at Sami. Fatima could read her mother’s thoughts. That young man will go far. He’s a delight.
***
Sami had never thought dishwashing much fun. But these few evenings when he and Fatima cleaned up after dinner became the highlight of his day. He knew he loved her. He had trouble concentrating on his books when he went back to his room every night. But this would be their last time together before she would return to Bethlehem.
“You look good in the dishpan, Sami. Since this is our last night in Haifa, I think I’ll get a picture of you washing dishes.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“I think Najid and your parents would love to see it.” She clicked her camera.
“I’ll never hear the end of it from my brother. I’ve always told him this is women’s work.”
“You can’t get away with that anymore, Sami. Times are changing.”
“I guess you’re right. We were talking about Najid and Ashley. They do love each other as you said. And they got together in Seattle without their parents’ involvement, at least at first. That would be unheard of here until a few years ago. I know guys are spending time with girls at the university, with their parents far away.”
“But they did finally get her parents’ permission to marry.”
“True, Fatima. But at least they had a chance to get to know each other in Seattle. By tradition here, we can’t do that. In our tradition the families have to arrange things for their kids and the two get married without even knowing each other or having a chance to grow to love each other. So they marry a stranger.”
Fatima looked down and didn’t say anything. Sami looked at her. “I don’t know how to tell you, Fatima, but dishwashing with you has become my favorite thing to do every day for the past ten days.”
Fatima chuckled and blushed. “I’ve enjoyed cleaning up with you as well. I’m going to miss having you to keep me laughing.”
“This can’t be the end of seeing you, Fatima. I’ll wear out the busses between Haifa and Bethlehem to get to be with you.”
She sighed. “I’d love to have you come. You’d be welcome, and Ali would be excited.”
“I love you, Fatima. There, I’ve said it!”
After a long moment, she turned to Sami. “I love you too, Sami. I don’t want to leave you.”
Sami gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I know that transgresses all Muslim taboos to be touched by a man, but I so want to hold you close.”
“Let me close the kitchen door,” she whispered.
Sami threw his arms around Fatima and kissed her forehead. They stood by the sink while his mind raced. A new chapter was beginning in his life with the loveliest girl he had ever met. And most of all, they loved each other. He was in heaven.
She kissed him on the cheek and then released him and backed away, holding hands. “Oh Sami. What are we going to do? I don’t know.”
“Do your parents suspect anything?”
“I think my mother does. She is very perceptive and seems to be able to read my thoughts. And I have loved you ever since our walk in the Bethlehem market.”
“You have? My heartaches started when I had to leave you in Bethlehem. I didn’t know how you felt.”
“But now you know, Sami. I do love you so much. But we come from different family backgrounds.” She dropped his hands and opened the door. “We can talk quietly while you wash and I’ll dry.” Fatima giggled.
“Yes, but family differences aside, you are following Jesus in your life even though you project your Muslim family ties to the world.”
“True, and that makes it so wonderful for the two of us. We are of one mind and heart. But my parents may have a harder time with seeing us together since you are not from an Islamic family. We go back many generations as Muslims in Bethlehem.”
“And we have traced my family back about three hundred years in Galilee as historic Christians.”
“What about your family then? How would they like to see you interested in a Muslim girl?”
“You know, Fatima, they accepted Ashley. She was very different being American, but she loved Jesus and it showed in her life. You know what she is like. So it wasn’t much of a leap for them. I think they would feel the same about you. Besides, we have lived and played and worked with Muslim families all our lives. We get along fine. Some have become my good friends. We don’t argue or try to convert each other. Most of the guys are pretty secular anyway. If we talk seriously, I avoid religion. I just like to talk about Jesus and they do too. He was from Bethlehem and then Nazareth, so it’s easy and some are curious about what he did. He’s mentioned in the Qur’an a lot as you know, but it doesn’t tell the stories of him like the Bible does.”
“So you’re saying that your parents in Genger wouldn’t have a problem with our relationship.”
“Exactly. But for yours, I think we can learn something from Ashley’s parents, because they didn’t like her seeing Najid for almost a year.”
“Why was that?”
“He was different. He was Palestinian and all Palestinians are terrorists or Muslims or bad people. It seems so strange that some Christians in America feel that all of us over here are militant Muslims and a threat to Israel and the world. They don’t even know that some of us are of the same faith. So they had Najid in that box.”
“What happened to change their opinion of him?”
“He saved Ashley’s life literally, several times. He did it because he loved her, not to make points with her parents. But when her priest, or maybe its pastor, devised a way for them to hear what Najid had done, they realized they had misjudged him. All their prejudice just disappeared and they welcomed Najid into their family.”
“And you think that my parents would eventually accept you?”
“I’m not a stranger to them anymore. I think that might happen over time, and a bit of prayer. Maybe just keep them laughing.”
“Oh, Sami.” She looked up at him with dancing eyes. “You’re crazy.”
CHAPTER 60
Ali gathered around the cell door with two other boys ready to go outside for their one-hour mid-morning exercise. At least it had more room than before. He had not been threatened with pun
ishment or treated roughly ever since his family came for their daily visits.
The guard appeared, but instead of letting them out, he pointed to Ali to come. The family visiting hour usually came later, so Ali wondered why they came early. He walked into the visiting room behind the guard who then pushed him forward and left the room. Ali quickly spotted Jamilah and ran to his mother’s arms. The hugs continued with Saleh and then Fatima. He stopped and looked quizzically at Sami. He’d not seen him before.
“You look like Najid who I played football with.”
“There’s a good reason for that, Ali,” Fatima explained, “they’re brothers. Sami is here in Haifa at the university, and we wanted him to meet you.”
Sami pushed out his hand for a high-five, and Ali swung his into it. “I wish you could come back to our little courtyard and we could play.”
“That won’t be necessary, Ali.”
“Why, Papa? The other boys don’t like football.”
“Because we’re going to take you home.”
Ali froze, wide-eyed. “You mean home? Out of here?”
“We do, Ali,” Jamilah replied, beginning to fight tears.
Ali jumped up and down. “When, Mama?”
“Now!”
Ali flew around the room jumping and running, his arms outstretched while he ran past the adults with a high-five for everyone.
His mother took him by the hand and led him out through the front waiting area and out the front door. Ali skipped and jumped around like popcorn as they walked to catch a taxi to the bus station. He had no luggage, not even a sack of anything. The smelly clothes he came with had hit the prison incinerator, and the shirt and pants he had on were too big. He looked a bit like a scarecrow when he held his arms out dancing about.
“You’ve lost weight, at least three kilos, Ali. We didn’t want to say anything with the guard right there, but now you can tell us what happened.”
Uprooting the Olive Tree Page 21
