Fifty-seven years in the west bank: A labour of love

When she arrived in the West Bank in 1967, Marylène Schultz did not know Arabic. She became fluent even as the Palestinian orphans in her care came to live in her heart. These children – Yousef, Ruweidah, Amar and Hosson, to name a few – come alive in her memoir of everyday life at the Four Homes of Mercy in Bethany (Al-Eizariya in Arabic).

“The delicious wetness of water”

Schultz grounds her memoir in concrete events, such as what happens when no water comes out from the faucets. Over 200 residents have learned to use water “sparingly . . . every drop as many times as possible.” If the water is still clear after washing vegetables, it goes to mop floors, then finally to water trees and plants in the garden. As they wait “for the delicious wetness of water,” Schultz visits one office after another with no results. As a last resort, she and a handful of co-workers demonstrate outside the village mayor’s office. They respond to the mayor’s rage and the police’s threats by saying they will stand their ground until they are assured of water.

A taxi with an Israeli license plate comes by and an American-looking fellow emerges. Introducing himself as a reporter for the New York Times, he takes many notes; the officials looking on become uncomfortable and change their tune, assuring the group they will have water soon. The reporter tells Schultz he will be by later so that he can finish his article. Within a few hours, the people of Four Homes hear the welcome sound of water dripping into their roof tanks. Later, they find out that the “reporter” was a U.S.-based Palestinian, and related to one of the staff members.

Through the brief background notes that end some of the chapters we learn that “all water resources in the occupied West Bank were declared property of the state of Israel” soon after the Six Day War of 1967. Increasingly, turning off the taps has become “a form of collective punishment.” In 2022, cisterns that collect rainwater were bulldozed and permits to build more cisterns are always rejected in “Area C”: all attempts by the Israeli government to make this area “uninhabitable for Palestinians.”

A collective punishment

Each story of children affected by the slow stranglehold of the Israeli occupying force brings into focus the fear, futility and the terror that are part of the air they breathe. Here, where Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead, Palestinian life is drained away. The 2005 section of the Separation Wall cuts Bethany off from Jerusalem; the two miles between them becomes a detour of 13 miles. This has spelled disaster for families who have people on both sides of the wall and for those who travel to Jerusalem for healthcare, for work, for school. They are subjected to long waits or random detainment at checkpoints, often run according to the whims of Israeli soldiers.

One day, when nineteen-year-old Yousef was studying alone at the home, soldiers burst in and captured him. He returned four days later “dead tired, hungry and thirsty, with a swollen back, a bruised head and pain in his calves.” He considered himself “lucky” because his 6’ by 5’ cell was crowded, and “each one got beaten less as more of the blows landed on others.” Yousef’s hopes for an apprenticeship ended; he no longer had the concentration he needed to complete his course.

I remember my mother using the term razzia to describe how, during WW II, the occupying Nazi soldiers would suddenly sweep into a Dutch neighbourhood, block off each end of a street, and do a house-to-house search. Could descendants of those in hiding during these razzias be part of this kind of hunting among West Bank Palestinians?

Since October 7, 2023, increased settler violence against Palestinian farmers and shepherds makes travel precarious even in their own areas. The attacks are “not merely acts of individuals” but have become systematic, often occurring “in the presence of soldiers who stand idly by, protecting the assailants and at times even joining the attackers.”

the fabric of Schultz’s work

The cisterns are broken. How is hope fed? What breaks the strain of tension, the constant of fear? When a colleague excitedly relays news that 27 Israeli pilots have refused to take part “in air force attacks on civilian populations,” Schultz wants to yell, “And what good is that small percent?” She then forces herself to reflect, “even mighty trees begin as seeds that grow in secret below the ground.” And, if even once “we have discovered God’s traces on our human paths. . . we must not give up and let ourselves be paralyzed.”

As a foreigner, Schultz enjoys privileges and dares to take action that Palestinians do not for fear of retaliation. Since the Israeli settlers practice Sabbath and stay home Saturdays, she joins members of Ta’ayush to accompany the farmers and shepherds to their land. Staying in touch with “so many different people taking small steps to fight against the occupation and their own resignation” strengthens her heart. What they hold in common is “the courage to question the power of the mighty.”

“Let the children…”

Four children play around a rusted beat-up car on the cover photo of Orphan. When it served as the ambulance for the Four Homes, the staff quickly learned which parts were unnecessary: “a barely moving car didn’t need a horn.” When it stopped altogether it became part of the play area. Children could “drive it. . . over mountains and across oceans. . . with no limit to the number of passengers.” One boy does a handstand on the roof while two others look on; a third hangs out of a rear window. The sun highlights their play against a shadowy background. Orphan Children in Bethany gives us glimpses of what so many endure on the other side of the Separation Wall. “Dear Reader,” Schultz seems to be saying, “can you see them?”