Forbidden Fruit

Each day as I drive to and from work I pass dozens of small roadside fruit & vegetable stands.  Each is owned and attended-to by local Arabs, and all of the produce is carried to the stands by donkey or tractor directly from local orchards, vineyards and fields.

This stuff is, without a doubt, the most beautiful, perfectly ripe produce I have ever laid eyes upon... and for sheer mouth-watering attractiveness I would match it against any gentrified 'gourmet farm market' in the world!

The problem is that this produce is both figuratively and literally, 'forbidden fruit'.

Many of my friends and neighbors who are long-time residents of Gush Etzion tell me of a time not so long ago when the Israeli and Arab economies and communities mixed relatively freely. 

This isn't to say that there was peace and love flowing freely in the streets... but Israelis rode the Arab bus lines if an 'Egged' bus wasn't scheduled conveniently... and Arabs were a common sight on the streets of our communities.

Arabs came and went freely in Israeli communities/settlements for work and to avail themselves of things like free health clinics and shopping... and Israelis went into the heart of Arab population centers in search of bargains on such things as glassware, rugs, and building supplies.

In short, though there has never been anything approaching love or even trust between the two populations, there was a certain symbiosis that was fostered for the improved quality of life it brought to both communities.

Then came something whose cause or goal I have yet to fully understand: The Intifada(s).

My town, which had always been one of the more liberal communities in terms of relations with neighboring Arab villages, was forced, in stages, to exclude Arabs. 

Where neighboring villages had once been invited to use our emergency medical center as a free walk-in clinic, they were now barred because one of the villagers had strolled up to the medical center with a bomb strapped to his body and blown himself up. 

Another man from a neighboring village who was a long-time employee of an Efrat resident, and who was on friendly terms with many people here in town, walked into one of the supermarkets wearing a bomb belt and attempted to blow himself up in the midst of a large crowd of shoppers.  Luckily his bomb failed to fully detonate and he was shot by a local resident before he could complete his mission.

Where once Efrat had been considered a safe and convenient bedroom community, just a short drive from Jerusalem... the almost daily stonings and shooting attacks against motorists immeasurably magnified the 15 minute journey into something both risky and foolhardy.   New residents were few and far between... and those who already lived in Efrat became weary of attending funerals of local men and women who had been killed for the simple crime of driving while Jewish.

One by one the economic ties between the Jews and Arabs of Gush Etzion were severed until contact between the two sides was almost non-existent. 

As the latest intifada has begun to lose steam, Arab workers have again been allowed into our town (so long as the people hiring them also hire armed guards), and some building supplies are surreptitiously being obtained through back channels from Palestinian sources.

However, our emergency medical center remains closed to Arab patients, and Arab buses and taxis travel the roads with no Jewish passengers.

And perhaps most painful for both sides... the beautiful fruits and vegetables at the countless roadside stands rot quietly in the mid-day heat... because Jews are afraid to stop and buy... and there are not nearly enough Arab consumers to justify the volume of produce that the surrounding fields have been cultivated to yield.

I often joke with one of my regular passengers when we pass a particularly attractive roadside display of produce, that "maybe we should we stop and buy something tasty to bring home to the wives?" 

But this joke is of the darkest variety... because we both know that stopping for this 'forbidden fruit'... no matter how delicious it may be... might very well mean not making it home at all.