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139 Chapter Four Riding to Qalunya, Part II L’Hôte May 10, 2011: We Are Both from the Same Village . . . It is Israel’s Independence Day today. Independence Day always invokes in me a sense of stress. It comes a week after Holocaust Memorial Day and only a day after the War Dead Remembrance Day. It is the culmination of a week of nationalistic and militaristic commemoration, in which I always feel that there is hardly any escape from the heavy pressure of all the sanctified commemoration rituals. It is as if a blanket of orchestrated—­ but at the same time, sincere and deeply internalized by so many citizens—­ agony and ceremonial pathos covers the country. Anyone who refuses to or simply feels they cannot participate in the public demonstrations and exhibitions of uniform and sacred grief (like, for example, ultra-­ orthodox Jews or Palestinian Israelis, who, for different reasons, don’t always stop everything they do and stand still during the commemoration siren—­ an act that is one of the central litmus tests of being a“true” and“loyal” Israeli) is shunned and denounced for being a “dissident,”“defiant,” or merely a social“parasite.” These are not days for doubts and serious questions about the causes of war and the lack of peace or about any other meaning of the Holocaust for current times except the need to be strong in the face of the constant (and partially Orwellian 1984-­ like) “existential threat” that Israel still faces (in recent years, read: Iran). The same applies to nonparticipation in the almost mandatory rituals of jubilation during Independence Day. As evening falls and the War Dead Remem- 140 / The Politics of the Trail brance day ends, Independence Day starts with an extravaganza of fireworks and street carnivals, and with almost everybody barbequing on their decks or in parks,and,in fact,in any other available corner (including roundabouts and sidewalks ). The feeling that you have to be sad and grieving and then, in a matter of a few hours, change your skin and be joyful and celebratory—­ in public—­ always creates in me a strong opposition. Moreover, the inability to escape all this, as the private and public spaces are invaded and colonized by the state and its “loyal” citizens/believers, generates in me also deep frustration and estrangement. But today, nonetheless, we are going to have an Independence Day picnic. Idit’s friend Ma’ayan (pseudonym) called yesterday evening, just as they finished the fireworks on Mt. Herzl, where the central Independence Day ceremony takes place, and asked if we were “doing something tomorrow.” She suggested that we join their family for a picnic. We said ok; it’s better to be outside than to be crammed with the kids in our apartment, without being able to open any window due to the heavy barbeque smoke that will engulf the entire tenement. Perhaps we can find some quiet spot near Mevasseret, “far from the madding crowd.” I suggested we go to Ain Lauza, the spring in wadi Lauza that I discovered after riding to Nabi Samwil last year. That spring is now a place I often wander off to with the bike to reflect quietly. I thought that it would be nice and quiet there, beyond the Green Line indeed, in a place hardly known to anyone. Ma’ayan was a bit reluctant—­is it safe there? She and her husband Nissim (pseudonym) are on the extreme political Right. Nonetheless, they rarely venture into the “territories,” mainly due to personal security fears. I explained to her that I often rode to this spring during recent months, that the spring is on the “Israeli side” of the separation fence, and that the region is constantly monitored by security cameras and patrolled by Magav. There would not be any trouble, I promised. This satisfied her, and we agreed to meet there at 10:00 a.m. I went ahead with my bicycle. I wanted to be there early—­perhaps someone else would “occupy” the (already occupied) place before us, despite its relative anonymity (those“Gideonite” settlers, perhaps . . .). When I arrived, there were three Magav soldiers patrolling the wadi, to make sure that no Palestinian “interlopers ” entered Israel on Independence Day. As they were about to continue their patrol, Ma’ayan and her family arrived, in their car.“You see, I told you it’s safe here,” I said, pointing to the soldiers, who smiled contentedly. I felt ironic, but I don...

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