What I Don’t Want to Write About

editor Monday 9 October 2017 Share on Facebook Share on Twitter Share by email Printer friendly

By Paula R. Stern.. This is a map of a small Jewish village called “Har Adar”. To the right, you will see the Arab village of Bayt Surik. This morning, very early, dozens of Arabs woke up in that village, got dressed, had their breakfast and prepared to go to work. One man said goodbye to his wife (or perhaps his wives) and left his four children. He was 37 years old…he’ll never be 38. He got dressed. [Photo top right: Har Adar viewed from the west. Wikipedia] I don’t know if he had breakfast. I don’t know if he told his wife or wives that he would never see them again. I don’t know if he kissed his children goodbye or even cared that within a few hours, they would be fatherless. Then again, I don’t know what kind of a father he was – perhaps they are better off.

He, like those dozens of other Arabs, made his way towards Har Adar. The area there is beyond beautiful. Like most villages, Har Adar is built…on top of a har…the Hebrew word for mountain. It is full of greenery, trees, beautiful streets and wonderful homes. The quality of life is amazing there – as it is in most small villages.
The man had a work permit. That means he is allowed to enter the village and work – perhaps in the small local market, perhaps building more such homes. Maybe he was a gardener or a painter. I don’t really know…and honestly, I don’t really care because in addition to getting dressed this morning, he did something else…he took a gun with him. Read the full story.
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