My heart hastened its pace as we our bus passed through the security check point and crossed into the West Bank. The guards stared at the tinted windows and held fast to their M-16s. We, my friend Deb and I, were on our way to Karnei Shomron, a Jewish settlement a half hour north of Ramallah. We got off at a shopping plaza with shinny stone tiles and a few sprouting palm trees. The plaza had a bakery, a fast food restaurant, a café with deli sandwiches, clothing stores, and an assortment of other shops. The mother and eldest daughter of our Ashkenazi host family pulled up in a red Honda mini-van. The mother was very tall; her head scarf rested a few centimeters short of the ceiling. They took the long way home to show us their yishuv, (יישוב) “community” which is what the settlers call their settlements. In the distance we could see two Arab villages flanking the town.
Their foyer had a marbled floor and a marbled, spiral staircase connected the three floors. They bragged about the beautiful work the Arabs had done on their house. You contracted Arabs to build your house? we asked. Of course, they told us, it’s a lot cheaper than paying Israelis to do it. How do they get in through the fence and passed the guards? What’s it like to work with them? Can you trust them? we had to know.
The family patriarch was a large British man who looked like humpty-dumpty with a beard. He laughed loudly and informed us that the Arab workers come and go all the time. They show the guards their work papers and get in without a problem. The entire settlement–the mall, the schools, the rec. center, and all the synagogues–was built by the Arabs from the neighboring villages. And you can trust them? we asked again. The workers who come in are very polite and respectful. They told us they have never had a negative incident with any of the workers allowed in.
Deb and I watched the sun set from their balcony with three of their kids when the call to prayer rang out. That’s the Arab settlements, their eldest son informed us, who was a few months short of his bar mitzvah. Deb commented on how beautiful the sound was. No, he responded, it’s gross. Yeah, chimed in one of the daughters, everything they do is bad. No, that is not true, Deb responded. The children didn’t say anything more, but that same sentiment was repeated over Shabbes dinner.
Sometime between Kiddush and the main course it was discussed how poorly organized the Palestinian officials are; how out of touch they are with their own people. They fought with the Israeli government for the settlement freeze and the ones most hurt by it are their own citizens, the father said. Could you imagine how horribly a Palestinian state would run if they controlled all of Eretz Israel? They do everything backwards. If it weren’t for the yishuvim these Arabs wouldn’t have any money to build their settlements. That’s right, the mother said, everyone wants to label our yishuv a settlement as if we’re the ones doing something wrong, but what about the Arab settlements in the West Bank?
The flip side of the argument is that Israel doesn’t allow the Arabs to have any other form of economy. But, the family said, Israel gives them more aid than the entire Islamic world combined. When they use that aid for military aims, it’s hard to be sympathetic. The family waited patiently for our rebuttal, but they were more knowledgeable about the situation.
When we asked the mother why they chose to live in the West Bank and why she likes it, I was most surprised when she talked about her family. My children are safe here, she said. When the family lived in Florida she would worry about her children playing in the street or going to a friend’s house whose parents she did not know. On the yishuv she does not have to worry about things like that. Here, the mother said, my kids are safe, and there is no price to high for that peace of mind.
Mario Uriarte is a Masa participant studying at Ben-Gurion University in the Overseas Student Program, one of Masa Israel‘s 160 programs.
