Our
Arab friends in Oakville, Ontario (they prefer to be called Palestinian) of
close to twenty years, convinced us that a trip to Israel would not only be an
interesting and revealing one, but it would also open our eyes to the feverish
development that was taking place amidst the turmoil of geo-political unrest
within Israel and the neighboring countries such as Lebanon. It took several years of coaxing and cajoling
to pluck up courage to join our persuasive friends to the Holy Land, a decision
that we have not, and will never regret.
After some intrusive and
what seemed like infantile questioning at Toronto International Airport by the
over-zealous Israeli security, intended to determine whether my wife and I were
potential saboteurs, we were allowed to board the El Al plane. We had some mixed feelings about the
questioning, but since it was our first experience, we viewed the irritating
process with a sense of novel curiosity and petty annoyance which we thought we
would soon forget. It also made us
singularly aware that Israel was in a state of siege from hostile forces that
could surface in any part of the world.
It was a regrettable situation, but it loomed very real, and we were
constantly reminded about this threat, as we toured Israel over a period of
twenty-one days, where armed militia, bearing the usual army arrogance, were
ever present where ever we went.
Our first stop was Tel Aviv airport.
We were processed very efficiently, issued with temporary visas, (thanks
to our Canadian passports) and allowed to move uninterruptedly out of the
airport without any significant incident.
Since our delayed arrival was late in the evening, we were not able to
take in the scenery as we made our way by taxi to the town of Mi’iliya in West
Galilee, some three hours away. Our
hosts, accompanied us to the village, where we were to stay at their ancestral
home that was perched up on one the gentle hills that typified the terrain. A
large cross up on the hill signified that Mi’iliya village was Christian.
Mi’ilya town is a typical Arab town.
The houses are built of concrete, and the outside walls are adorned with
heavy white to yellow stone masonry that makes the houses look very unique (and
they are) and extremely elegant too. The
architecture that is employed is very Moorish in that all the houses, with very
few exceptions, have flat concrete roofs allowing for future development should
it become necessary. The very sturdy
houses are usually two to three floors high and are appropriately designed in
such a manner that each floor becomes a
self contained apartment that is generally assigned to a male member of the
family and his progeny. This is done for two utilitarian reasons. Families that live in close proximity to each
other become a cohesive social unit and are able to assist each other in case
the need arises. This is very much like the joint family system in India. Children, for example, become the
responsibility of all the resident families, and there is therefore very little
need for baby sitters or any other form of child care from the outside. If it is true that it takes a village to
raise a child, than this principle can aptly be applied to the town of Mi’ilya.
There is such pressure on the land that not many plots are available for a
family member to branch off on his/her own.
The cost of land if available is astronomical and matches the price of
the building that is constructed on it.
Mortgages are not unheard of, but the people believe that they have to
make do with what they have, and so a building could take several years before
it could be declared completed depending on the flow of funds. The building is progressively added to as
funds became available. There are,
however, some “rich” members of the community, as in most communities around
the world, who would commence building and continue until the building is
completed. These are generally
“Palestinians” who run lucrative businesses and therefore have large bank
accounts. A few completed houses are built by Arabs who made their fortunes
abroad and have returned to their Arab roots. The Arab system reminded me very much of the
Indian system. In Arab culture any male
child born to a family must be supported by the parent even after the child has
grown into adulthood. In fact, the adult
is expected to live with his parents until he marries. Parents are also expected to set up their
children in their own lodgings. This
support is in the form of building a house or apartment for each son in the
family. If separate houses are not possible because of land or financial
constraints, then the son settles for an apartment which covers one floor of
the building. Girls born to a family
became the responsibility of the boy who takes them in wedlock. In the Indian system, however, parents have
to be prepared to come up with a substantial amount of money or gold as a form
of dowry if the parent is to get his/her daughters married. Arab parents, at least at Mi’ilya town, were
very devoted and dedicated to their children of both sexes, though I did sense
that some parents were setting limits on the number of children that they would
have. As a result, in spite of the Eastern Rites Catholic ethic of discouraging
abortions, the community appeared to embrace abortions as a form of birth
control whenever a child was unwanted.
Eastern Rites Catholic priests were allowed to marry. The parish priest at Mi’ilya town was a
married man.
Jewish towns, on the other hand, had very different housing styles and
resembled houses built in the West. The
towns appeared to be meticulously planned, and tastefully landscaped. This planning was possible because the towns
were fairly new and so the streets appeared to be wider than in the Arab towns
which were built many years ago. The
Jewish towns, rightly called so, because the government will not allow anyone
else but Jews to build in the areas designated for Jewish settlement, which
appeared to be very well maintained: (the Arabs refer to this as a form of
apartheid).
The roads were paved; the houses were well kept, and there were
numerous facilities such as recreational facilities to make the lives of the
Jew comfortable and rewarding. If one
were blindfolded and transported to a Jewish settlement, one would get the
impression that it was a town in the United States or Canada. Because of the appearance of the Jewish
settlements, the Arabs felt that far more support was given to the Jewish
people by the Israeli government, and that the Arab towns were left in a state
of decay.
The Arabs were generally very suspicious that in spite of the fact that
they were Israeli citizens and paid their taxes, comparable to the taxes paid
by their Jewish counterparts, the Government did very little to improve their
living conditions. They made me
understand that most of the lands that the Jews built their settlements on
belonged to the Arabs, and that these lands were taken away from them after the
war in the forties. Arabs were driven
away from their homes, and Jews moved into them as though it was their
birthright and that it was the most natural thing to do. This was reminiscent
of medieval times when the spoils of war (which included private property)
became the legitimate property of the victors.
There was a deep sense of resentment against the Jews, who they viewed
as bullies and legitimized robbers who took what they wanted simply because
they had the power which, they were not afraid to say, was propped up by the
United States. On more than one occasion I heard the Arabs say that they were
second class citizens in their own country.
Many of the university trained young adults in Mi’ilya were convinced
that they could never reach self-realization in their own chosen professions.
They believed that the Jews would hire them only if a Jew was not available to
do the job, but that there was a limit to how far they were allowed to progress
in their jobs. Positions carrying
responsibilities, such as managerial positions were reserved for the Jews. It was for this reason and this reason only
that many young Arab professionals were considering the attractive prospect of
migrating to the United States or to Canada in search of job satisfaction and a
life that was free of the intrigues that often went with their jobs in
Israel. However, there were some who
felt that they were between a rock and a hard place. If they migrated out of Israel they
maintained, they would be playing right in the hands of the Israeli government,
who they felt would be very happy to see all the Arabs leave and then have very
good reason to abscond with their land and property since they were not around. The argument made was that the Israeli
government could take away land owned by Palestinians while they were resident
in the country. What chance did they
have if they left the country for fresh pastures elsewhere?
Since the town of Mi’iliya was built close to the border with Lebanon,
there were frequent sorties (at the time of our visit) conducted by the Israeli
armed forces to bomb targets in Lebanon.
We were quite concerned when these bombs were dropped close enough to
the village and they made the houses shake as though they were hit by an
earthquake. Our initial response to this
was one of fear, but our hosts assured us that we had little to worry about
since these bombings had been taking place for several years in the past and
that they had grown used to them.
Our holiday began with a tour of Israel, starting with Jerusalem. The journey was a very pleasant one by car,
and we stopped a number of times to take in the breath taking scenery of the
country side and the deep valleys that housed a number of villages. Jerusalem was an experience unto itself. We were able to take in and retrace the steps
that Jesus took while He lived there, and also retrace his passion and see the
place where He was crucified. The tour
was a very moving experience. One could
not help noticing that Jerusalem had not changed in a few hundred years. The
great wall, built centuries ago around the city, was a constant reminder that
one was dealing with an ancient city.
We experienced the hustle and bustle of the aggressive vendors that
lined the streets, and the beggars, fairly rehearsed in the art of eliciting
alms, were reminiscent of the days when Christ was there. We spent two nights at the Seven Arches Hotel
that overlooked Jerusalem, and it was at the hotel grounds that I took my first
ride on a camel. Jerusalem is a place where all the major religions of the
world are represented. Each of these
groups has an edifice that is steeped in history. As a result you have tourists of all stripes
visiting, what they consider sacred to them.
From Jerusalem, we made our way to Jericho. Before we got to the town, reputed to be the
oldest city in the world, we visited the monastery at St. George. This monastery had been in existence since
the time of the Crusades. The monastery
was built into the side of the mountain, and after one negotiated some winding
paths, one finally got to it. The monks
lived a very austere life here, and spent their lives in prayer and self
denial. In this monastery lay the body
of St. David who dated back to the time of the Crusades. His mummified body is
there to see, and is one of the tourist attractions.
We left St. George and were on our way to the Dead Sea. The Dead Sea is perhaps appropriately called
that because we were informed, nothing survives in this lake. The salt content is very high and one could
see a thin film of oily minerals that flowed up to the surface. It was a common belief that the waters of the
Dead Sea had a curative effect on those afflicted with skin disorders. The black mud on the bottom of the lake is
also said to contain a variety of minerals that textures the skin and makes it
soft. Neither my wife nor I had the
courage to rub that mud on our bodies as many of the brave tourists did, and
there were scores of black bodies sunning themselves, hoping that the process
would revitalize their bodies. The other
distinct property of the Dead Sea is that one could float effortlessly on ones
back. My own experience was that if I
tried to force my legs down to hit bottom, there was a force that sent my leg
rapidly up to the surface. There were
people floating on their backs and reading a book. Many of these individuals did not know how to
swim, nor was it necessary. We were warned not to let the water enter our eyes
because of the high salt content in the water which was almost like acid. There seemed to be quite a few casualties who
were running out of the water to get under a shower that was installed a few
steps up the bank in order to seek some relief if they had the misfortune of
allowing the water enter their eyes. A manufacturer of skin products, whose
ingredients are said to come from the Dead Sea, is making a mint. The chief casualties are the tourists of
course.
From the Dead Sea we made our way to Lake Tiberius. This is the lake from which all of Israel
gets its water supply. The water is
ingeniously piped through aqueducts for miles and stored in massive reservoirs
all around the country. As a result,
Israel has a plentiful supply of water, and no effort is made to conserve its
flow. As a result the lake has dropped
several feet in the past several years.
We finally made it home from our very exciting and interesting journey.
A MEMORABLE TRIP TO HAIFA.
One morning the ladies thought that the weather was simply perfect to
go shopping in Haifa. We were in perfect
agreement and so we made our way to the shopping stalls where it was believed
that deals could be had.
As we hoofed it on the pavement, I found myself walking ahead of the
group since I was quite distracted by the various store displays.
At this time, I
noticed a fully armed Israeli soldier who appeared to be equally distracted but
not by anything he saw in the stores. I
noticed that as we neared each other, he took deliberate steps to narrow the
gap between us. As soon as we came shoulder
to shoulder, he swung his gun, barrel down his side and using the butt of his
gun hit me squarely in the shoulder.
This was a totally unprovoked assault and the pain in my shoulder was
very intense. I knew that I had to bear
this insult without challenging the soldier for fear that he might shoot
me. The group behind caught up with
me. They had taken in the incident and
my Arab friends were quick to tell me that this kind of humiliation was
repeated time and time against the Arabs.
If this was so, I thought, it was easy to see why the violence between
the Arabs and the Israelis would be festering.
In no way, however, did I allow this unfortunate incident to colour my
view of Israel, and I persuaded myself into the belief that the violence that I
experienced was the machinations of a misguided soldier.
LIFE AT MI’ILYA
The community at Mi’ilya is a very closely knit one. This is partly because everybody claims some
kind of relationship with someone else in the village. Isn’t this also true of
small town Ontario? We sensed that the
entire village operated like one family.
As a result there was very little privacy, and your business became
everybody else’s business. It had a
typical small town mentality. There was constant traffic of inquisitive but well meaning friends visiting
our exhausted hosts, and they were very proud to emphasize that in their
village there was no formality as existed in the West, where one was expected
to give due notice by first telephoning and informing friends about an
impending visit. As a result visitors
dropped in all day, and some insomniacs actually visited well into the night.
For one visiting from the West, this felt like an invasion of one’s privacy,
yet our hosts took it in their stride and entertained their visitors well into
the night.
We were generously given one
bedroom to ourselves which we found to be very comfortable indeed. As is the practice in Mi’ilya when one of
their sons returns to the town after being absent for some length of time, the
community assumed the responsibility of feeding the family. As a result, we spent every dinner of our
twenty-one days at somebody else’s house by invitation of course. There was always a very generous spread of
food which we found very difficult to put down. This wasn’t because the food
was not appetizing, but simply because we were eating far too much of it. We
were constantly being invaded by food, and it was very difficult to do the food
placed before us any justice. Our hosts
almost had to force feed us at times.
Since our hosts had us for only a short while, invitations started
pouring in for breakfast and for lunch as well.
Too much of a good thing really hurts sometimes, and it became obvious
that if we were going to eat three large meals a day, we were going to get
quite ill. We therefore learnt to place our hands over our plates just as a
priest does before he consecrates the wine, whenever the food was passed around
and we hoped that this would not upset our hosts. A young lawyer, who had his training in
Italy, told me that one way of not upsetting the host was to accept the food
being placed in one’s plate, but just let it sit there. I found this very difficult to implement
since I did not have the heart to have such good food go to waste. After all, the leftovers could always be
eaten at the next meal if kept fresh in the refrigerator.
The conversation was totally in Arabic, and very little effort was made
to translate what the discussion and exchanges were all about. We found this to be quite uncomfortable since
we were totally excluded from interacting with our dinner hosts and some of
their invited friends. We did realize,
however, that to expect that the entire conversation would be translated to us
would be impractical, though we were disappointed that we could not participate
as fully as we would have liked to.
Because of the language barrier, we felt that we could not get to know
our dinner hosts or their friends, neither could they get to know us. This was most unfortunate since it was our
contention that it was the people who made the place. As a result, our dinner
visits became nothing else but dinner visits.
We nibbled at the delicious dishes, obviously cooked with much love, and
that is all that we got out of our visits.
The one visit that stood out in out was our visit to the house of our
host’s brother-in-law. His name isYusuf.
Yusuf was educated in Oxford and held a prominent position in the Labor
organization in Israel. All his children
were university trained and well established.
One of his sons-in-law is a young lawyer who had most of his post
secondary education in Italy. It was
wonderful to have someone to converse with me in English. Abdul was his name. Abdul was endowed with a very endearing
wit.
“I often tell my friends, that rather than go to a lawyer to settle
one’s estate in the case of a divorce, it would be much better to sit down and
split it two ways, rather than get lawyers involved. Lawyer fees are so prohibitively high, and
once they are through with you, there is not much left for either party
concerned,” I teased Abdul.
“Oh why do you tell them that?
If they went to a lawyer all that would happen is that they would have
to split the estate three ways,” he responded with a laugh.
I found Abdul to be a much focused individual who knew what he wanted
out of life.
“When I first started practicing law, I was quite happy to work for an
income that just about helped me and my family to get by. Now, I have made a plan that I was going to
work for money. It is my intention to
get the big companies and conglomerates to hire me, so that I could make plenty
of money to enable me to build a beautiful house and travel extensively,” he
confessed with a glimmer in his eye.
I believe that Abdul’s ambition rose from the fact that his
sister-in-law, who was married to a very successful businessman in the import
and export business had a mansion for a house.
The house resembled a house that one sees in the program “America’s rich
and famous”. It was fabulous both inside and outside. The house itself had at least four levels,
and the inside of the house had only the best furniture that was imported from
as far off as Europe. It appeared that
the inside of the house was designed by an interior designer who obviously knew
what he/she was doing. All the colors
that were employed matched so appropriately that it was not only pleasing to
the eye, but outstanding in the choice of the decor. The ceiling was adorned with beautifully
designed molding which gave the rooms an added attraction. I was told that the house cost over a million
and a half American.
My host was determined to fulfill my dream and his, by going deep sea
fishing out in the Mediterranean Sea. We
therefore drove to the sea port of Akka, made famous during the time of
Napoleon who, the locals were quick to remind you, failed to take the port and
whose attacks were repelled. It was late
in the evening when we left the port in a sea worthy craft in full view of the
lit up city of Haifa. Unfortunately for
us, the moment we left the port we began to feel the full rage of the Mediterranean
Sea. The waves were far too large to
negotiate, and the rocking of the boat made us quite ill in an hour’s
time. Furthermore, we discovered that
the fish that we were catching was not worth the pounding that our boat and
stomachs were taking, so we decided to return to port and back to the warmth of
home.
THE WILD PIG HUNT
One of the recreations I never thought I would experience was the wild
pig hunt.
One evening, my host asked me whether I would be interested in going
out with one of his nephews Khalil, and a group of his friends, hunting for
wild pig. I thought that this would be a
novel experience so I responded that I would be very interested in seeing how
this was done in Israel. I had some
experience of this when I lived in Africa.
Wild pigs were considered a menace by the farmers who were mainly
Jews. They owned hundreds of acres of
banana plantations and citrus fruits.
Pigs were known to eat at the roots of growing plant life, and were
considered a vermin by the Jewish farmers who, incidentally, did not eat
pigs. It was just not kosher. The Muslim element did not touch pork either,
since it was considered “haram”(unclean and unholy). The Christian Arabs therefore were the only
group who participated in the pig hunt and our group, proudly declared that
they always came back with at least one trophy.
Hunting started around about ten at night. All of us piled into one jeep. The hunters were armed to the teeth with guns
and revolvers. Had they put on a mask
they would have resembled terrorists.
Once they arrived at the banana plantations, the driver raced down the
paths that were built alongside the banana trees that were grown in long lines
for as far as the eye could see. Two of
the hunters carried very strong spot-lights which they shone on either side of
the jeep. The beams were to frighten the pigs from their lairs. After an hour or so of seeing nothing, the
jeep suddenly swerved, and what ensued resembled a country and western shoot-out,
except that all the bullets were directed in one direction and there was no
doubt that it was a pig who was the recipient of those lethal bullets. The wounded pig screeched, while it tried to
get away, but each time it got on its feet, the guns went off in a great
crescendo.
“Leave that pig alone,” shouted Khalil, “and let us go after the other
three.”
Apparently they had seen four pigs in all, and they had shot only one.
The jeep tore forward, and when we came to what seemed a vantage point
to observe the movement of the other pigs, the jeep stopped, the engine cut,
the car beams were turned off, and silence descended while we waited in great
expectation that the renegade pigs would put in an appearance. Unfortunately, after a couple of minutes, the
group decided that the pigs were too smart, and had probably moved in another
direction, so they decided to go and get the pig that they presumed they had
shot dead. When they got to the spot,
the pig had disappeared. This did not
upset Khalil who appeared to take charge of finding the animal. With a flash-light he wondered through the
banana plantation, searching for the animal by tracing blood drops in the
undergrowth as he went along. Some fifty
yards from where the pig was first shot, another decisive shot was heard. Khalil found the animal in a bush and it was
still alive. When we got to Khalil, he
had already split open the neck of the pig, and shot it in the head for the
last time with his revolver. The pig
weighed close to one-hundred kilos.
Unlike the African wild pig, the pig that was shot looked very much like
a domesticated pig. Wild pigs in Africa
showed prominently two large tusks that protruded from the mouth. The pig that was shot looked very much like
domesticated pigs.
ANIS SABBAGH
There are only a few individuals in this world who will resist
twentieth century “progress” and who will seek their well being by maintaining
the life style of their ancestors. Anis
Sabbagh was one of these very interesting personalities.
Anis built himself a country house away from the hustle and bustle of
civilization. He had no modern amenities
such as piped water and electricity, but lived with his wife (sometimes alone)
enjoying doing things around his garden, and cooking his meals from the
generosity of what he grew. He kept some
poultry for eggs, but most of his meat came from the pigeons that made their
home in an old rusty van that he specially kept for enhancing the population of
these birds. He loved the peace and
tranquility that prevailed in his environs and would not hear of moving to town
where the family hoped they could take care of him.
When we visited him, he was in the process of making charcoal. The process was very time consuming, but it
seemed that Anis was much focused, and refused to move away from his operation,
until he was very sure that the coal would turn out well. The charcoal was then divided among his
family, and was to last them for the entire year. Most of the charcoal was used for their
barbecues.
Anis was quite dismayed by the incursion of Jews in his retreat. Only a short distance away, the Jews were
building a very modern town, and naturally Anis felt that his lifestyle would
soon be threatened. On the insistence of
his son Anis was forced to tap into the water supply that was piped to the new
town, and only recently he was persuaded to have electricity connected to his
house. Although this was done, Anis refuses to have anything to do with either
of these utilities and still continues living as he has always wanted to. His reputation as an eccentric reached the
cities, and Anis became a TV personality when Israel TV. conducted an interview
with him. Since then, he receives
frequent visitors especially from Europe, who drop in if only to satisfy their
curiosities.
A Visit to a Kibbutz
Much has been expounded about the merits of living in an Israeli
Kibbutz so it made us quite curious and keen to visit one of them. We were given an opportunity of visiting one,
only a short distance from Mi’ilya.
Anis Sabbagh was persuaded by his daughter to set up a tour of a
typical Kibbutz especially for us. Anis
had worked in one for several years, before he retired and moved away to the
solitude of isolation.
Anis was virtually mobbed by most of the senior members of the Kibbutz
as though he was a long lost friend. It
was heartening to see an Arab being hugged and kissed by Jewish men. By now, both my wife and I were convinced
that there were insurmountable and abysmal differences that separated the Jews
from the Arabs. There was also a
corrosive dislike that existed between these two groups. This hatred was never articulated in public,
particularly if the public happened to be Jewish for fear of repercussions.
We were met by our guide who I will call Jim. After exchanging pleasantries and introductions
were made, we were taken to see an airplane parts factory which operated on the
Kibbutz grounds. We were told that most
of the precision parts were exported mainly to the United States. Armed personnel, so evident everywhere else
in Israel, were conspicuously absent but, one could sense that our cautious but
gracious guide was very watchful about what we could be shown.
While on our way to a day-care centre, I asked our guide what was so
special about a Kibbutz.
“Those who work in the Kibbutz, live in accommodation set aside for
them. They are, therefore, assured of a
roof over their heads. All those who work here, give their pay cheques to the
Kibbutz. Nobody makes more money than
anybody else whether he is a doctor or a sweeper,” he stressed with pride.
“What then is the difference between the Communist system and yours!?”
I asked faking to be well intentioned.
There was a long pause.
“In our system, there is freedom.
You can choose to join the system or you may choose to live
elsewhere. There are benefits in the
Kibbutz. You and your children get the
best medical care; the best education; nutritious meals at very affordable prices
and a wonderful program for recreation.
Old and ailing people are well cared for and are given an active role to
play in the community here,” he said.
We were finally taken to his house which was no bigger than an
apartment here in Canada in terms of space.
He was very proud of it, and he proudly showed us how it was extended
into a two storey house to accommodate his two children.
Shortly thereafter we were taken to the cafeteria to have our
lunch. The cafeteria was run like a
restaurant and food was served buffet style. Unfortunately, our host picked up
the tab, and I thought that it was very gracious of him. However, I would have preferred to pay for my
meal, if only to verify whether meals were reasonably priced as he had
suggested earlier.
We then shook hands with our guide, and went on our way.
On the insistence of our hosts, we drove to Nazareth. Our hosts had a niece who was married to a
doctor there, and that was sufficient reason to visit. At Nazareth we were able to see the place
where Jesus was said to live and is now occupied by a huge big Church. From Nazareth we moved to Bethlehem which was
the birth place of Christ. From there we
drove to Cana where Christ changed water into wine. Quite a number of stores sold wine which they
will tell you was like the wine brewed during the time of Christ. I thought that if Christ drank too much of that
wine, he would probably have fallen victim to diabetes.
We were very unhappy to leave Mi’ilya for we were made very welcome by
our hosts and by their friends who constituted virtually all the
townsfolk. We enjoyed the informality of
life there; the friendliness of all the people we came in contact with both Jew
and Gentile; the bracing Mediterranean climate which kept us cool most of the
time; the delightful Arab cuisine that kept us dangerously close to developing
a hiatus hernia; but above all we enjoyed
seeing the Holy Land which was spiced with wonderful accounts of the
various holy and historical sites which
only our friends, who grew up in that part of the world, could describe so
passionately.
IMPORTANT
This story is not intended to be anti-Israeli or anti-semetic.
We lived in a predominantly Arab village and this story merely reflects
the Arab perspective which could be open to debate. The incidents described are as we observed
and experienced them. Since I was
staying in an Arab enclave, I was able to feel the pulse of the Arabs, and I
have put down on paper some of the comments, very often negative, but justified
in their minds, about their feelings towards the Israelis. I do not totally endorse their views, but I
have presented them as honestly as my journalistic skills will permit me.
Israel is a tiny country and is supported by many Western countries but
mainly by the Americans. Unfortunately,
it would seem that much of this aid is channeled into the military hardware
complex for their self protection and preservation. This would have been totally unnecessary had
the powers in Israel come to terms with its Arab neighbors who will forever
dislike the Israelis if they continue to take the land that legitimately
belongs to the Palestinians.
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