Tea as a Way of Life

It has taken me a little longer than I thought to be in a place where I had Internet access. The last eight days have been full of meeting old friends again and acquainting myself with new people. In both cases, these occasions call for many glasses of hot tea, with differing amounts of sugar added. It doesn't matter how blazing hot it may be outside, the hot tea will keep flowing. Even if you're out in the middle of a valley with a bunch of sheep, a shepherd may pull out a portable burner and serve you up a few glasses. It's as expected as a handshake would be in the States, and in many ways it's become a comfort drink for me.

A few days ago I was walking around taking photos of the Palestinian village of Susiya with my teammate Mary. As we passed by each group of tents, we would sit down with the family and drink a couple glasses of tea or so. I think by the end of that day I consumed at least 10 glasses. I also feel as though I consumed a life time of stories.

Over one glass of tea, I learned about the village goof ball whose fiance got so fed up with him after a week that she called off the wedding. The villagers are still laughing about that one. They jokingly asked if I would be interested in him...I told them I'd have to think about it for long time:) Another glass-full was time enough them to inform of all of the different types of vegetables they grow. One is called fagoos; it looks like a smaller version of squash but grows without any water. They also grow tomatoes, squash and cucumbers.

On our way to another group of tents and expected glasses of tea, one Palestinian told me he feels like a refugee on his own land. His family has lived there for generations, but their homes have been demolished by the Israeli army four times during the last 20 years. They have come back to their lands after each demolition, but their homes are nothing but tents and a few caves at this time. More and more of their land has been confiscated for Israeli settlements and army training areas, but they refuseto leave the land they have cultivated and cared for their entire lives.

An old man welcomed Mary and I to sleep at his family's tent for the night as we were planning to accompany some shepherds in the area early the next morning. His wife served us a glass of tea and told us about her husband's love of listening to the radio. One evening, the radio was so loud he didn't hear four Israeli settlers pass by his tent and enter his fields below. His wife was picking squash, tomatoes and fagoos when one of the settlers came behind her and threw the vegetables she had picked onto the ground. Her husband finally heard her screams confronting the settlers and came down. She hit one of the settlers and they hit her back. The Palestinian family made a complaint with the Israeli police, but nothing was ever done.

My consumption of tea and stories kept me up half the night as I tried to push away one of the village cats from curling up next to me (I'm allergic). They have joys and problems just as any community does, but their daily lives are punctuated with so much injustice. The next day I sat with a Palestinian family, a couple Israelis and Mary (drinking tea together, of course). One Israeli said people didn't really want to know the truth of what was happening in Susiya and other Palestinian villages in the South Hebron Hills. Ignorance is bliss. We will keep sharing the stories, though, and the villagers will persist in resisting being pushed off their land. And they will continue drinking tea with their guests, even in the heat of summer.



One group of tents in Susiya.