Surreal is the only word I can think of to describe it. We are here at Adamama, a community dedicated to sustainable lifestyle, agriculture and recycling in the northern Negev -- just 20 minutes, if that, across the field from the Gaza Strip. We should be able to walk on over. Or invite our friends to visit for tea. And to get a much-needed job.  But no. Israel has constructed its ugly walls of intimidation between these two peoples, creating a distance much further than physical reality.

We arrived yesterday afternoon – the seven of us who had been held up at the Taba crossing from Egypt into Israel. (I learned today, btw, that of all the crossings we could have tried, Taba is apparently the hardest to get through – more difficult, even, than Ben Gurion in Tel Aviv. Perhaps it’s because it’s situated so close to Eilat, the plush resort on the Red Sea that offers such an obscene contrast to the realties of the Gaza Strip we had just left.)

After spending the night at a hostel in Eilat (a quirky place decorated ubiquitously with reindeer, of all things), we embarked on a long, hot, sweaty day of travel to our new abode – first a bus ride to Beer Sheva, then a half-hour taxi ride to Adamama. The moshav (the Hebrew term for this Israeli agricultural settlement of individual farms) feels like a return to Camp Fire Girl days…dormitory-style living (except this time in big, open-sided tents, while sleeping on old mattresses that I am pretty sure are infested with something), communal eating (all vegan meals) and just a few shower stalls and toilets (using compost “technology”) for our large, rag-tag group.

Anarchist clowns: In addition to “Patch” Adams (an American physician, social activist, citizen diplomat and professional clown who organizes volunteers from around the world to bring the medicine of laughter to orphans and others), we were joined by members of the Smile Liberation Front – clowns from the Middle East who are working to advance justice through subversion. Dressed in military uniforms but wearing goofy noses and glasses and blowing horns, they turn on its head the serious, stern demeanor so carefully cultivated by the IOF (Israel Occupation Force; I refuse to refer to the “IDF” since “defense” isn’t really involved, as far as I’m concerned).

The journalists loved Patch and his fellow clowns.

  
Look close and you'll see Patch with his big nose peering through at the soldier who was doing his best to turn away.

Rebel drummers: Called the Kassamba (a play on the combination of words “Qassam” [as in rocket] and “samba” [as in dancing music]), this group of youth activists uses drums, cymbals and rhythm sticks to bring the power of music and raw, rebellious sound to political activism. As Patch and his clown companions stared into the border-control booth, insisting – oh so gently but firmly – that they be allowed in to play with their fellow children just meters away, Kassambas encircled the booth and pounded out their reinforcement. 

Kites (yes, they can be tools of rebellion too!): Kites are a universal symbol of freedom – soaring into the blue yonder tethered only by a thin string (and then often escaping from their “handlers”). These very special kites were purchased in B’ilin – one of the West Bank towns split by the apartheid wall, and that has become a focal point for ongoing nonviolent resistence, both local and international. As we were pushed further and further away from border patrol booth, we merely took advantage of the extra space and began flying our kites (as well as setting up the playground equipment we had planned to transport into Gaza).  

 

Finally, after several hours, the IOF could stand it no more and re-collected their wits. A couple of truckloads of troops showed up and we faced off. What a show of solidarity – it was the Kassambas who took the soldiers on directly, chanting in Hebrew against facism and insisting “we don’t want your fucking war.”

We were eventually forced to go back to our farm, where we are now talking and debating with Israeli peace activists on subjects ranging from boycotts, to the Free Gaza boats, to a legal campaign to help get Gazans move in and out of the Strip to seek education, medical treatment and family reunification. But the Israelis say they are “processing” the names of the individuals who want to cross into Gaza, and we will be back at the border tomorrow. How long I can stay, though, remains unknown. My deportation order remains, and our partners’ attorney is advising me I cannot simply ignore it. We are now hoping to negotiate a couple of days’ more leeway timewise…

Stay tuned…