Divide
And Destroy
By Alex Klaushofer
Christian Aid
06 December
2003
Over
the past few months, the barrier that Israel is building to cut itself
off from the occupied Palestinian territories of the West Bank has come
to symbolise the divide between the two peoples at the heart of the
Middle East crisis.
Cutting into Palestinian
lands by up to six kilometres, the barrier takes different forms along
its length - here an imposing concrete construction, there a steel fence
and a tangle of barbed wire.
But whatever the
barrier's form, its impact on the communities it dominates is devastating.
In the farming villages of the northern West Bank, what was once a self-sufficient
way of life is dying out because farmers cannot access their land.
The fertile valley
that supported most of Jayyous's 3,500 people with yields from olive
groves and citrus orchards is now locked behind the barrier, accessible
to some only through gates administered by the Israeli army.
A few farmers are
just managing to cling onto their land, forced to accept the permit
system imposed by the Israeli authorities to get through the gate. Yet
even with permits they must queue for the gate openings at the beginning
and end of each day.
Sometimes the soldiers
refuse to open the gate at all. In September it was closed for 20 days
during the Israeli holiday season. At other times the soldiers just
do not allow farmers through.
To combat this problem,
a new population of farmer-campers has sprung up behind the gate, living
away from their families in sheds and tents rather than risk being refused
access to their land by the soldiers. They risk arrest as they are not
meant to stay on their land overnight.
They are the lucky
ones. Jayyous resident Faheema Saleem has 11 children and a disabled
husband. Her family is now one of the poorest in the village because
most of their land was confiscated and destroyed by Israeli construction
workers who cleared it to make way for the barrier.
'All our land is
behind the wall,' she says. 'We had two greenhouses, two acres of irrigated
land, a big orchard of olives and open grazing land of up to 25 acres.
Now we have this' - she gestures to a small garden plot in front of
her house - 'and 13 olive trees.'
To keep the family
afloat, Faheema receives food parcels of basics such as lentils and
flour as part of a new programme run by the Palestinian Agricultural
Relief Committee, an organisation supported by Christian Aid.
'We have a new humanitarian
problem in the village and we now have a large number of families who
are totally dependent,' says Marian Shamasanah, the food programme co-ordinator
and assistant head of the Jayyous women's club.
'I have been 14
years in this club. We never thought about humanitarian support until
this year. In normal times it's not socially accepted to take food.
Normally, we hold classes in first aid, family planning and handicrafts,
but we are not involved in a humanitarian programme like this.'
A few miles over
the hills, the people of Jbarra are also turning to humanitarian aid
as a direct result of the barrier. Most of the greenhouses in this farming
hamlet of 350 people lie empty and its one road is lined with dying
fruit trees as landowners outside the gate have been denied access to
water their crops.
But Jbarra's odd
status as one of 15 villages caught between the barrier and the Green
Line that separates Israel from the West Bank has created further deprivations.
In October the Israeli authorities declared the area a closed military
zone and tried to issue its inhabitants with permits to access their
land on the other side of the wall. Jbarra residents rejected the permits.
For them it was a matter of principle. In response the Israeli army
has refused to let them leave their village.
As a result, people
have been unable to get to their jobs and businesses in the neighbouring
towns and villages, or to the markets where they sell their produce.
Access to healthcare
is also a problem. Ennas Awad tried to take her month-old baby to the
doctor in Tulkarem but was denied access. 'I told the soldiers the baby
was ill, but they didn't believe me,' she says. 'They said: "Everyone
who wants to go to Tulkarem says their son or daughter is ill. But we
will not allow you to pass. You are a liar.'''
Temporary relief
has come in the form of a mobile clinic run by the Union of Palestinian
Medical Relief Committees - another local charity supported by Christian
Aid. The clinic was hastily assembled in someone's house and announced
over the mosque Tannoy by the sheik. But Azam Mahmoud, one of the doctors
in the clinic, is clear about the limitations of this one-off healthcare
solution. 'To resolve the problem in Jbarra, you must start a permanent
clinic with doctors and medicines in the village,' he said.
Malnutrition is
already affecting villagers' health, he says. 'I saw a pregnant woman
who has very rough skin. It is a deficiency of vitamin A. I told her
to eat egg and milk. She said: "In Jbarra there is no egg, no milk."
It is difficult to believe this is the situation of a village in the
21st century.'
The new dependency
emerging in the communities destroyed by the barrier is yet another
example of how the poverty afflicting the Palestinians is a human creation.
Here aid is not just part of the solution, it's a symptom of the underlying
problem.
As William Bell,
Christian Aid's advocacy officer for Israel and the Palestinians told
the parliamentary international development committee: 'This is a political
problem created by the occupation of the Palestinian territories. A
political solution is needed to tackle this ongoing humanitarian crisis.'
Alex Klaushofer
is Christian Aid's Middle East communications manager.