Meeting with IDF Colonel

"We are already late," pronounced Aziz, "and a Colonel in the Israeli Defense Force is not going to wait for us." 

 With limited opportunity to reflect on the conversation from Sabeel, I didn't think my mental state would be able to process any more information regarding the conflict. However, our meeting with a Colonel in the Army was clearly not going anywhere. Putting aside what I had just heard from a Palestinian Christian perspective, I prepared to switch gears for the Israeli narrative. (It crossed my mind that we weren't doing justice to the stories we were hearing, because we failed to have ample amount of time to process.)

Several times throughout the meeting with the Colonel, I found my eyes widening from surprise of certain statements and looking around the room to make sure everyone just heard the same thing I did. From the group's previous conversation and this meeting with the Colonel on Ammunition Hill, a historical site for the Israeli people, the true meaning of occupation began to settle in. It hit me, like a ton of bricks, that thousands of people were stuck, some without hope, fearful, and angry, in a way of life that they didn't choose. People--human beings--were forced to live without some of the most basic human rights they need and deserve.

What made this realization sink in? As the Colonel was telling stories to explain the purpose of the "security fence, not border", he began to talk about the graffiti that runs rampant along the wall. 

*Graffiti on the Palestinian side*

At one time having ordered the graffiti on the wall to be painted over, the Colonel decided that it would be okay for the graffti to be left alone. Why? "It [the graffiti] shows that the people aren't taking their anger out using violence. We live in a democratic nation, so I'll let them," said the Colonel. 

What? The people of Palestine have been separated from their families, forced from their homes, and locked in a small radius without the ability to easily move around. (These are the ideas that immediately crossed my mind as the Colonel spoke.)

Throughout our conversation, I had to constantly remind myself of the concept of Dual Narratives, my passion for conflict transformation, and thoughts on peacemaking. This was his story. This was his narrative. This was his experience.

 Not only was it hard for me to imagine how this conversation would go over in restorative practices, but I also began to wonder how the pragmatics of the circle process would work in an area where those in conflict are legally unable to have shared experiences. The people of Palestine must meet certain requirements to leave the West Bank, and no one from the Gaza Strip is aloud into Israel. 

What does conflict transformation look like when people cannot meet together at the table?