Sadness: When "Plant A Tree For Israel" Goes Awry
08 December 2010By Jane Stillwater
It always saddens me when I hear about the destruction
of human life and property for no reason. And I have
been completely saddened and dismayed to learn about
all the horrible wildfires that are currently tearing
through northern Israel unchecked. These
out-of-control blazes have destroyed up to one-eighth
of the entire state of Israel so far -- and with no
end in sight. At last count, over 40 people have been
killed and thousands more have been left homeless.
To me, it is particularly sad that the exact same
trees that are now burning so intensely are the very
same trees that were planted so many years ago during
the extensive 1950s "Plant a Tree for Israel" campaign
that allowed for the purchase of over 260 million
trees. And each one of these trees may have been
purchased with small, precious sums of money eagerly
and hopefully donated by schoolboys and schoolgirls in
America.
Each pine tree now in flames may have been purchased
with some little boy's allowance that he had saved up
for weeks, months or years, or with some little girl's
birthday money or babysitting money or paper route
money. (Hey, my sister had a paper route back in 1955
-- girls did that kind of stuff too -- just think of
Rosie the Riveter!)
All these precious trees up in flames.
People and property needlessly destroyed.
This tragic loss also reminds me the tragic losses
that have happened in southern Lebanon, Beirut,
Jordan, Syria, the West Bank, Jenin, Hebron, Gaza, the
Golan Heights, East Jerusalem, Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan
and Manhattan.
It is always a sad tragedy and waste to humanity when
people and property are needlessly destroyed.
PS: Here's my account of having visited that area of
northern Israel back in 2006:
Today we drove up into northern Israel, to see the
remains of a Palestinian village that had been
destroyed by the Israeli army approximately 60 years
ago. As we drove along the freeway toward the Lebanese
border, we passed a McDonalds sign. And a sign for
KFC. It reminded me of when I used to take my children
on trips. They would see a McDonalds and say, "Are we
there yet?"
Finally we arrived in a relatively large Israeli city
near the Lebanon border. Mostly it seemed to consist
of miles and miles of strip malls. The best of
American architecture! I felt right at home. Then we
drove out through the countryside on the far side of
the city and then up into the mountains, finally
arriving at a hilltop somewhere near the Lebanese
border. Lots of trees. Nice view. "Oh, look! There's a
cow." There was a bunch of cows.
We arrived at the site of the former Palestinian
village, apparently one of 450 Palestinian villages
destroyed at the time. But I couldn't see nothing but
trees and grass and cows.
"Some of the original inhabitants of the village will
be meeting us here," said the Israeli man I had driven
up with. He, like many other Israelis, strongly
objected to the drunken use of force by the IDF and
he, like many other Israelis, has made a point of
learning some of the true history of what had gone on
way back then. When he had offered to bring me here, I
had jumped at the chance.
"This is one of over 500 Palestinian villages that
were destroyed by the Israeli army back around
1948-49." Wow. They certainly did a good job on this
one! There was nothing left but stones -- and cows.
"All record of what the Palestinians call the Nakba --
the catastrophe -- are absent from Israeli school
curricula, from most history and geography books and
even from maps of Israel itself. The sites of the old
Palestinian villages have even been erased and
re-named on all of the maps. And even today there is
no official Israeli recognition or commemoration --
let alone apology -- for the Nakba."
We got out and walked around the land where the
village used to be. There was nothing left. Just a lot
of scattered stones. Another bunch of cows appeared as
we walked down a dirt road. Photo op! Except that
these cows had horns. Big horns. Lots of horns.
"In the Zionist collective memory," continued my
Israeli friend, "the Palestine of 1948 was a 'A land
without people for a people without a land'. Yet the
place where Israel was founded was never empty. This
was home to almost one million Palestinians living in
over 700 villages and cities, most of which were
depopulated and re-named in the period during and
immediately following 1948." Now all there was here
was cows. And cow poop. Opps.
It was a peaceful afternoon in the country. We walked
up the path to the top of another hill. Terrific view
-- almost like the Sierra foothills near Auburn and
the California gold rush country up before you get to
Lake Tahoe. "Here is an old fortress that was bombed
by the Israeli air force back in 1949. 99% of the
houses were still standing in 1950 but the Israeli
army returned and blew up everything that was left.
You are now standing on the site of the elementary
school and the high school. The village used to make
its living by growing bees and harvesting honey." Not
any more. Nothing was left. It looked like even the
bees had left town.
"And here is the Muslim cemetery and across the road
is the Christian cemetery, dating back from the time
of the Crusades." Now a small stone building was all
that was left. "It used to be the minister's home. For
hundreds of years, Muslims and Christians had lived --
mostly -- in peace in this village. And over there was
the village pool and the village green."
On that day in 1950 when the rest of the villagers had
been driven away by the occupying Israeli army, one
family had been down in the fields during the seizure
and occupation of the village. "When they came back
and one of their boys had a wound that he had gotten
while farming, the Israeli soldiers said that it must
have come from resisting the invasion so the soldiers
tortured him and killed him. His parents were too
scared to even come out of the trees in order to
collect his body. The rest of the surviving villagers
had run and hidden in their olive orchards but after a
few days without food, two old men went back to the
village to try to get supplies from their homes. They
were shot."
The Israeli army wanted to hide any evidence of
destroying the village. "But they were stupid. They
left all the stones."
Then somehow we got into a discussion of eye-wear and
I gave someone with me my famous "glasses as
accessories" speech. "Nobody manufactures yellow
glasses," I lamented. "Do I have to do everything
myself? Now I have to manufacture glasses too?"
Then we toddled off to what was left of the village
church. I met an Arab-Israeli man there who was also
touring the ruins and he told me his story. "My
grandfather was a Palestinian and he had a very high
regard for education. When I was a boy, he made each
of his grandchildren learn a different language.
Unfortunately I got stuck learning English," he joked.
"The others learned French, German, Spanish and
Chinese." Chinese? "Yes but unfortunately the only
textbook he had was Chinese to English so he was
forced to learn English too."
Apparently when the Israeli soldiers stormed the
village back in 1950, they confronted the headman, who
was a Christian. "Why are you defending these
Muslims," the Israeli commander asked and the headman
answered that, "in this one moment, we now are all
belonging to the same religion -- and it is God, not
us, who will sort out who is good and who is bad."
The air today smelled of pine trees. There were stone
blocks everywhere. Thousands of them. One of the
villagers who had survived the massacre and who had
come back for the day spoke to us. "Every year since
the Nakba, those of us who are left feel so empty
inside. The horrible violence seemed so senseless. It
has split our bodies and minds. Our bodies stand here
57 years later but our souls are still back in our
village, so long ago, in this beautiful place. And no
matter what the Israeli history books say, this
village did once exist." That man survived. And he
remembers.
"We thought at first that we might be allowed to come
back to our village," said the man. Who could blame
him. This place was -- and is -- beautiful. "Other
villages took us in but then they too were destroyed.
But we will never give up our dream of someday coming
back here, back to our home."
Apparently after 1950, this village was declared to be
a "military area" and so the villagers were never
allowed to return. And even today, even with all the
trees and the cows, this village is still labeled a
"military zone". The sun was beginning to set so we
walked back to our car and drove back to Tel Aviv. And
we didn't stop by McDonalds for dinner on the way
back.
©
EsinIslam.Com
Add Comments