Reem
My husband and I, next to our four children, were living happily in our house in Al-Walajah village. I was a housewife and my husband used to work in Israel. On a day in 2006, I was 32, my eldest was 9 years old and my youngest was 3 months. I remember it was during a spring day in April when I received a phone call that changed my life! My husband was arrested by the Israeli occupation forces while working inside Israel with no permit. I did not know what to do. I could only think of informing my family and his to try to bail him out, unsuccessfully.
He was sentenced to 8 months. It may be short compared to those who have served years in jail or had lifelong imprisonment, but not for me! I know people living around us who haven’t seen their children for years. I know women living alone while their husbands are in jail with lifelong imprisonments. I knew my calamity was tiny in comparison to theirs, but still, it was too much for me and it was a very wrong timing!
I found myself the breadwinner for my family of four children. I had a newborn who needed my full time caring. I lost my safety and emotional stability. I felt weak. I felt helpless. I cried secretly all the time. I was alone with a big responsibility. I became very sensitive and I didn’t know how to deal with my new conditions. I refused to receive help from those who offered and at the same time got angry at those who didn’t offer to help again. I lost my balance, and it clearly affected the children negatively.
I was very sad and confused. I suddenly felt much older than I am. I need someone to tap on my shoulder and tell me that everything will be okay. But instead, I looked out my window every day to see the rubble of a demolished house. Every time I stared at this house, I saw myself in it. My husband’s absence left the gap inside me that I cannot even describe. I didn’t know I loved him that much! His absence turned my life upside down, and among all this pain, injustice and responsibility, I could only think of how much I needed him next to me in these hard days!
I was thinking, and I knew that our savings which I am using to provide for the family are running out. I started getting more and more angry and it all was projected on the children. I knew I had to do something; anything to get me out of this. I wanted to do anything for my children who were constantly asking “when is dad coming back home?”. As much as I loved my children, those innocent questions of theirs hurt me. They knew nothing about the occupation, and very often, I felt the need to release the stress inside me or do anything to stop myself from exploding!
The land! Yes! I went out to our land next to the house and started working it. I cleaned it and started tilling it with the axe. Every time I hit the ground with the axe, I imagine my enemy; the enemy of my husband and children.
I planted the land as if I’m planting a new life for myself and for my family. I produced enough crops to provide for the family, but I did not stop there. I asked the UNRWA for a job and I was hired for one month in the village council as part of the “unemployment program”. Then, I applied for a job at the statistic center, received training and started working with them for fifteen days on the Population Survey Program. I did my best to provide for my children so that they wouldn’t feel there’s something missing.
Slowly, I got used to this life of big responsibilities. I got used to being the mother and the father at the same time. But everyday made me miss my husband more. Some nights I just wanted to chat with him, to hear his voice or cry on his shoulder. I saved him so much talk about the children and what they do. The days without him started losing the taste. Ramadan and the Eid had no taste at all in that year.
Five months after his imprisonment, they finally allowed us to visit him! We talked to him on the phone for a few minutes during these months, but seeing him was something different! I bought him the stuff that he asked for; some clothes and needs, and prepared the most beautiful outfits for me and my children one day ahead. On that day before dawn, the boys and I woke up and got dressed. I was all dolled up so he sees me at my best after a long absence; I was delighted and excited. We left the house at 4:00 AM and directed to the meeting point where we took the Red Cross buses that take families to visit prisoners.
The bus left at 5:00 AM. We stopped at the Tarkumiya checkpoint for inspection for more than two hours. I couldn’t help but feel that the road was too long. We arrived at Ramleh prison around 11 AM. I still remember the area around the prison very well. It was a steppe area planted with green grass next to a highway that has three tall palms at the edge of it, as if it was a park with no seats or umbrellas! The weather was very hot, it felt like a thousand degrees, and there was nothing to be used for shading. Many people were waiting for their turn to meet their beloved ones. We had waited for too long and got very tired, the kids were starving, we were sweating heavily, and our glow had vanished. What a pity we dressed all up!
After a long and tiring wait, exactly at 4:00 PM, they called our names! Finally! We went through a long and mentally tiring inspection process and were allowed inside the gates. I went in looking for him. I was walking with widely open eyes; I saw a lot of people but not him! I was worried and scared. Shortly after, among all the stir, I heard a voice calling my name. It’s his voice! I can recognize it! So he’s here somewhere! But I can’t recognize him?! How?!
I looked closer and saw a long-bearded stranger, but the eyes and voice are familiar! Wow! He has changed so much! I never expected that I won’t recognize my own husband! I never expected him to change that much! Whatever! I forgot it all and ran and hugged him, at that moment, I could not hold back my tears. I cried heavily enough for my nose to start bleeding. I think it was the tiredness, hot weather, and stress of waiting that long. We spent most of the meeting time trying to stop the bleeding. We were left with very little time to talk. We talked for a few minutes, and he assured us that he is doing well. He played with the kids a little, but they did not recognize him. I could feel the gap between them and my husband was doing his best to bridge it.
The meeting quickly came to an end. We were saying goodbye and my husband said: “don’t come back to visit again, I will check on you on the phone. I don’t want you to relive this tiring experience again”.
After that day, I understood that I am incapable of doing this again. I cannot take this long and tiring trip again with four kids. So we started counting the days and the hours for him to be released, and thankfully, he was released by the end of his eight month sentence. We reunited and lived together as a family again, and my husband got back home to a new Reem that he didn’t know.
I am still Reem, his loving wife, but this experience changed me a lot. I grew up and learned to carry a responsibility heavier than myself. I learned that I can do so much more than I expected. This experience got me involved in social work and volunteerism to support women within the women center and social committee in the village. I got involved in many projects and the last one is a gardening project that started in 2016. In the first year of the project, we created 9 home gardens for 9 women from the village, through the up-cycling of tires and plastic bottles. During the second year, the project got bigger and we created 19 more gardens. In the same year, we received professional training on up-cycling pallets and operating big woodworking machines in an up-cycling workshop Bait Sahoour called “Resign” with our trainer Ala’ Al-Hilu.
The project developed furthermore and in October 2018, we started our own up-cycling workshop “Rweisat for Wood Art” after launching our photobook “Sumud – Existence is Resistance”. This book narrates our story and the story of our village, Al-Walajah; this beautiful village with more than 17 water springs with a landmass of more than 17,700 acres before 1948. Most of these lands were confiscated after “Al-Nakba” (the 1948 war) by the Israeli occupation forces. The village is still suffering from the occupation until today and more lands are being confiscated. The village is surrounded by the Apartheid Wall and the illegal settlements of Gilo and Har Gilo. The villagers are not allowed to build houses on their own lands and the occupation forces storm the village every now and then to demolish more houses and displace more families under the pretext of having no building permit.
Despite all the pressures, difficulties, and attempts to forcibly displace people, we still love our beautiful village and its pure air. We will hold on to our land forever.
Today, I am Reem Al-Araj, a mother of six boys. I wake up every day before 6:00 AM to prepare breakfast for my husband and children. I get the kids ready for school and I clean the house and cook lunch quickly with a lot of energy to finish fast and walk to Rweisat workshop with all my enthusiasm. I enjoy the smell of the wild herbs on the way. It refreshes me enough to get to the workshop in no time to find my friends and colleagues laughing and working together. We share our thoughts and feelings and we make our products with love and pride next to the tiredness and hard work. Every piece tells the story of our struggle and ambition. Hopefully, we will keep going to achieve all our goals of preserving the environment through recycling, strengthening the resilience of women in the village and empowering them economically. We aim to spread our idea to other communities to encourage women to change the stereotypical image of women in the Palestinian society. We want to teach them a new profession and give them a new life!