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Uprooting the Olive Tree
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To our dear friends in Bethlehem, part of the Olive Tree that is
Palestine, deeply rooted in that ancient land of the Bible,
who refuse to be enemies and unceasingly bear fruit
for justice, peace, and reconciliation.
Praise for
UPROOTING THE OLIVE TREE
“Lloyd Johnson has done it again, and again it is something extraordinary. It is all here—shocking, unbelievable, and tragically true: child imprisonment and torture, wholesale land theft, harassment of civilians, all part of a systematic program of ethnic cleansing and twenty-first century colonialism. Johnson presents the horrifying picture of a so-called democracy devoting its army, judiciary and executive to the criminal program to erase a people and a culture. His skillfully crafted narrative is based on the testimony of soldiers of Israel’s army of occupation, the struggles of everyday Palestinian farmers, villagers and city dwellers, and the courageous work of lawyers, teachers, and politicians—Christian, Muslim, and Jewish.
Most of all, this is a book about love, as taught by that Jewish teacher and visionary of the Palestine of 2000 years ago, the fully human and fully divine revolutionary who instructed us to love our enemies. It is the love that breaks down walls and is stronger than the power of fear and hatred, the love that overcomes the most powerful and entrenched tyranny. Lloyd Johnson’s book is a testament to hope and to faith. It contains the solution to one of the most tragic conflicts of our time.”
—MARK BRAVERMAN,
Executive Director, Kairos USA, author, A Wall in Jerusalem: Hope, Healing, and the Struggle for Justice in Israel and Palestine.
“Lloyd Johnson creates a new way of looking at the tumult in the Holy Land. His stories in “Uprooting the Olive Tree” while entertaining reading, accurately show the reality of the rising tensions here in the land called Holy. This book will help you understand what we experience every day.”
—SAMI AWAD,
Executive Director, Holy Land Trust, Bethlehem
“Johnson assertively represents the voice of the voiceless. It is a story of a different kind of romanticism. It is a story of love and not mere fiction. It is a story of the love of life, of land, and of family. It is a story to humanity, where agape and dialogue in common-living conquers hatred, injustice, oppression, and occupation. I highly recommend this story written by my close friend, author Lloyd Johnson.”
—ZOUGHBI ZOUGHBI,
Director of Wi’am, Palestinian Conflict Resoluton Center, Bethlehem.
“Evangelicals are slowly starting to realize there is more than one way to see the Holy Land and the people who live there. It is still, however, a rather lonely battle. Who cares? The point is to champion justice and human rights the best we can and let the chips fall where they may. Johnson does this in an entertaining novel.
“We are not looking for fame or we would not pick this topic. It will take time but in the end justice will reign. This is our Hope because of Jesus and what we have learned from Him.
—LEONARD RODGERS,
Global Initiatives, Middle East
“Lloyd Johnson has written an exciting and entertaining narrative that brings the truth and complexity of the Middle East conflict home to readers in a way that is sure to broaden their perspective and understanding. Johnson knows well the context of his gripping tale.”
—DR. ROD SCHOFIELD,
Consultant to the Schools of the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Jordan and the Holy Land.
“The very title of Lloyd’s Johnson’s third book in his trilogy takes us to the heart of the conflict in Israel-Palestine, and to the heart of Palestine itself. This may be a work of fiction but it speaks honestly about the reality of life in that much troubled part of the world.”
—DOUG THORPE,
Professor, Seattle Pacific University and author of Wisdom Sings the World: Poetry, Creation and the Way of Dwelling.
“Like the parables which Jesus shared and by which he taught, Uprooting the Olive Tree is a story wrapped around an alarming natural and personal disaster which continues daily in the Land of the Holy One. Lloyd Johnson tells this modern day parable in a way that make this tragedy of global concern come alive and real. Read and learn.”
—THE RT. REV. GREGORY H. RICKEL,
VIII BISHOP OF OLYMPIA
“Uprooting the Olive Tree is the final book in a fictional trilogy about the Middle East. Lloyd Johnson knows what he writes, and he writes it beautifully. His fans of the first two books have something to look forward to.”
—GALE FIEGE,The Daily Herald
Uprooting the Olive Tree
by Lloyd Philip Johnson
© Copyright 2016 Lloyd Philip Johnson
ISBN 978-1-63393-208-1
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other – except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. The characters are both actual and fictitious. With the exception of verified historical events and persons, all incidents, descriptions, dialogue and opinions expressed are the products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
Published by
210 60th Street
Virginia Beach, VA 23451
212-574-7939
www.koehlerbooks.com
If the Olive Trees knew the hands that planted them,
Their Oil would become Tears.”
—MAHMOUD DARWISH
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
CHAPTER 46
CHAPTER 47
CHAPTER 48
CHAPTER 49
CHAPTER 50
CHAPTER 51
CHAPTER 52
CHAPTER 53
CHAPTER 54
CHAPTER 55
CHAPTER 56
CHAPTER 57
CHAPTER 58
CHAPTER 59
CHAPTER 60
CHAPTER 61
CHAPTER 62
CHAPTER 63
CHAPTER 64
CHAPTER 65
CHAPTER 66
CHAPTER 67
CHAPTER 68
CHAPTER 69
CHAPTER 70
CHAPTER 71
CHAPTER 72
CHAPTER 73
CHAPTER 74
CHAPTER 75
CHAPTER 76
CHAPTER 77
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
PROLOGUE
Ashley glanced at her watch. “We have time. Let’s drive on.”
Najid looked at his bride, his beautiful American, her face flushed with excitement. He smirked. “You could get yourself in trouble again. But some people never learn.”
“Yeah, but it’s fun being together, and I feel very safe with you after all we have been through … and survived.”
Winding along the contours of the hillside near Bethlehem in their rented car, the evergreen forest of the Cremisan Monastery reminded Ashley of the Pacific Northwest near Seattle; the fresh smell of the trees along the drive up toward Mount Rainer. Below Bethlehem lay the open orchard of olive trees, and above as well as across the valley, the large white buildings shining in the sun surrounded by a high wall—the Israeli settlements. They suddenly broke out into the open and saw an Israeli Jeep parked halfway across the gravel road. The soldiers inside signaled Najid to stop.
“We Palestinians call them flying checkpoints,” Nijad said to Ashley. “Why would they put one here on this back road leading to Walega Village, or what is left of it?”
One young private jumped out and approached the car carrying his automatic rifle. “Let me see your passports.” He appeared to be no more than eighteen years old.
Najid, rolling down his car window, looked to Ashley for her passport as he dug into his own pocket for his Israeli ID.
“Do you live here?” Nijad asked.
The soldier jerked upright with a puzzled look on his face. He seemed to stumble for words. So Najid asked the same question in Hebrew.
He glared at Najid. “I’ll ask the questions.”
Najid laughed, but continued in Hebrew. “I thought we were in Area A in Palestine. So why are you here demanding to see my ID from my own country? We Israelis have no legal jurisdiction here?”
The young soldier signaled the Jeep, and another IDF colleague with an automatic rifle approached as Najid handed the documents out the window. They waited while the two Israeli Defense Force guards conversed away from the car, scanning them. Ashley asked Najid what this was all about.
“I’m not sure, but we’ll find out.”
Najid looked around, hearing the clank of Israeli bulldozer treads. They had a new highway nearly completed. He could see the concrete foundation along the wide, new roadbed for the partially completed six-meter concrete wall in the distance.
“Should we just turn around?” Ashley asked, her shoulders and hands raised. “We don’t have to go on to Walega.”
Najid heard a hint of fear in her voice. At that moment, the second soldier approached.
“Where are you going?” he asked in Hebrew.
“To Walega Village.”
“Walega doesn’t exist.”
“I know. It did until you people destroyed and buried it. We’d at least like to see the view over the valley to the west. We have to be back in Bethlehem soon.”
“You’re an Israeli Arab citizen. Why are you here with an American woman? What is your purpose?”
“She’s my wife. We have every right to travel freely in both lands. And in a democracy like ours in Israel, we expect to be treated well. I respect your doing what you are ordered to do because you are a soldier in a chain of command. So please respect us and return our papers. We will complete our trip, turn around, and return shortly.”
They sat and waited in the car for ten minutes while the second soldier spoke on his telephone.
“What’s happening, Najid. It’s hard just sitting here, not knowing what they are planning to do.”
“These kids don’t know what they are supposed to do with us, so they call their superior. And we wait. We have no other choice. I have learned over several years, you have no other options because they with their guns have the power. Occasionally they use them. This is just a part of living under military occupation.”
“I guess freedom is selective here,” Ashley remarked, shaking her head. “If you are one of those Israeli settlers up there at the top of the hill, you probably have it.”
“You’re right—oh, here come the soldiers.”
Three of them approached the open window ordering Najid to step out of the car.
“We have done nothing wrong. Please return our papers.” Speaking in Hebrew with his hand outstretched through the open window, Najid didn’t move.
The older-looking guard jerked the car door open, grabbed Najid, and threw him to the ground. “You’ll do as we say.” He raised his rifle at the now prostrate Palestinian as Ashley screamed and bolted out of the car. A second soldier blocked her from coming close to Najid as the first one struck Najid hard with his rifle butt. Najid lay gasping for breath, covering his chest with his hands. Ashley pushed the young guard aside to kneel by the man she loved.
CHAPTER 1
The intermittent rumble as waves crashed on the Mazatlan beach put Ashley Wells Haddad to sleep but not for long. Najid, her new husband, awakened to her shouts of “No, no, you can’t do that” and her fists striking out and hitting him. Their honeymoon had been idyllic up to that point, high up in their Mexican-beach hotel room overlooking the crashing sea and crimson clouds at day’s end. They both loved the sea smells, a treat for in-landers.
As he put his arms around her, she turned toward him, her long, blond hair following. He kissed her in a silent embrace. What caused this sudden outburst? It wasn’t the calm Ashley he knew so well over the past two years. His mind raced wondering how one’s brain processed at night the events of the day. The images could often seem so real. He didn’t want Ashley to worry about their future. Perhaps the traumas of the past still bubbled beneath her conscious mind.
“What’s going on, my love? Dreaming about getting injured in the bombing, or kidnapped in Jerusalem?”
“No, no.” She sighed. “I’m just so glad it was only a dream.”
So what was bothering her? The wedding in Oklahoma City went so well. Ashley’s mom and dad couldn’t have been more affirming. His parents had come from far away in Israel, and even the senator from Oklahoma attended the reception.
Ashley’s breathing slowed as he felt her relax. He squeezed her arm wrapped around his shoulder, listening to the calming waves. A silver light streamed in the window from the moon’s reflection on the Pacific Ocean. She kissed his cheek. Her hair smelled of some fragrant flower he couldn’t identify. He could lie here with Ashley forever.
“I’m sorry, Najid. I woke you up. I didn’t realize that I hit you.”
“No problem. I was beaten once in an Israeli jail a lot worse than that.”
Ashley chuckled, but quickly became serious. “You’re holding out on me. I’ve never heard that story.”
“Maybe someday I’ll tell you. But not now. Do you want to talk about your dream? Or nightmare?”
She remained silent for several moments, and then started nodding. “It was awful, Najid.” She sighed.
He pulled her head close and kissed her forehead. In their silence the little clock ticked off the seconds almost in rhythm with the tumbling waves hitting the beach. He would wait. Ashley shuddered. A tear dropped onto his arm. He felt transfixed staring at the open window, holding the most beautiful person he had ever met. His own heart ached for her. She had gone through so much since they first met in that graduate-student lounge in Seattle.
“Were you being attacked?” he whispered.
“Oh no, Najid. It wasn’t me. But it’s so vivid I can’t get the scene out of my mind.”
“So who was it?”
“Do you remember Fatima, the beautiful Muslim girl in Bethlehem, student at the Bible College?” Ashley suddenly raised her head to look intently at her new husband in the moonlight. Then she dropped it back on the pillow. “No, of course you don’t since you weren’t there.”
“You’ve told me of her. Met her family as I recall.”
“Yeah. Friendly, warm, hospitable as usual. Fatima has a little brother, ten years old now.
Ali. Cute little guy. He was outside playing soccer after breakfast, so I didn’t have much chance to talk with him. But he apparently helped around the house, good student at school.” Ashley stopped, fighting tears.
He waited, listening to the sounds of the waves.
“In my dream Israeli soldiers dragged him out of bed from a sound sleep. It was three a.m. They accused him of throwing a stone at a Jeep. He struggled to free himself from their grasp, so they beat him with their fists. Fatima and her parents blocked the bedroom door, but they pushed the family aside. Her mother screamed and started striking out at the soldiers. I guess I did too. They put Ali in their Jeep and drove away with him, as Fatima and her mother collapsed in front of their house. That’s all I remember. Why would I dream something so awful?”
Najid churned over her dream in his mind; a scene he knew recurred every night somewhere in the West Bank. He turned to Ashley as he stroked her hair. “Go to sleep, my sweetheart. Remember, it’s just a dream.” I hope.
CHAPTER 2
The flight back to Seattle seemed slow to Ashley. The earphones and a movie could hide the droning sound, but she didn’t find it interesting. Najid dozed while the attendant came by with the minimal breakfast of juice, coffee, and a roll. At least the coffee smelled good. Somehow it reminded her of Arabic coffee in the small cups that brimmed with that strong coffee aroma. She had tried it without sugar in Palestine but found just a small bit took away any bitter taste of the coffee. Scenes of her friends there flashed through her mind, Mustafa in particular. Losing his family in Gaza from an Israeli helicopter attack still shocked her.
But now they had enjoyed the Mexican culture, the beaches, the food, the music—and each other—on their honeymoon. Hours of relaxing, making love, talking about so many things. But the future beckoned. Transitions are uncomfortable, Ashley thought. God will guide us.
Najid believed that you need to chart a course and start moving based on the best information you have. A sailboat can be steered only when it’s underway. So you start going but hold the projected course loosely, being willing to change directions as new facts emerge. They had discussed possibilities but had not yet come to any clear compass settings.