Assaf Gavron - The Hilltop

Neta covered her face with her hands and shook her head from side to side. Next to her, Josh, limp and hurting in his coat, held on to an unidentified object he had salvaged from the cabin. Othniel and his children arrived on the scene, and Hilik and others stepped out into the cold from their heated trailers. The soldiers exited the remains of the cabin, the tools in their hands. An eerie silence befell the place. There was no protest, no shouting, only dark-uniformed soldiers on the one side, settlers on the other side, and the wreckage of the structure on the edge of the cliff.

“Omer,” Othniel said.

“Yes?” replied the officer, and approached him.

“What was the good in that? What gave you the right to do it?”

“Othniel, don’t be naïve. Here, by right of this.” He removed an order from his pocket. “A Civil Administration injunction to suspend all construction work, which the dear home owners, who now act so surprised, were given in more than sufficient time, in a pleasant manner, along with a clear indication that the tolerance they had been shown would not last much longer. Not only did they build without permits and without asking and without proving ownership and all the rest of the things that every law-abiding citizen must do before starting to build a house, Othniel, it’s also located in a nature reserve. Building houses in a nature reserve is forbidden. Half this settlement sits on Hermesh Stream Nature Reserve land. It’s an initiative of the Nature and Parks Authority, throughout the country, by the way, to clean up the reserves. It’s not political at all, it’s to preserve our nature…”

“But why like this, a sneak attack?” Hilik said. “Isn’t talking an option? Perhaps we would have come up with a nonviolent solution. Why do you come like thieves in the night? The home owner isn’t even here.” He turned to his fellow settlers. “Has anyone gone to look for Gabi? I saw him earlier in synagogue.”

“Talking? Who are you going to talk to?” says Neta.

“Talking?” Omer responds. “You want to talk? Go to Beit El and talk to the administration. Why didn’t you want to talk when we posted the orders this morning? You wanted to talk? You wanted to rip them, you wanted to laugh in our faces, and when”— Omer went red, sweated, the vein in his throat throbbed—“when a soldier who’s protecting you asked that smart-ass what he’s doing, he had the nerve to insult and curse him.”

“Who cursed?” Othniel asked.

“Who cursed. Josh!” Omer pointed at the American, who was still rubbing his aching chin. “And don’t go thinking he’s the only one. That smart-ass woman called us Nazis two minutes ago, didn’t she?” He turned his head toward Neta Hirschson. “You’ve all lost your minds!” The officer delivered the last sentence almost in a scream, his eyes bulging, his throat hoarse. Usually he tried to stay level-headed and maintain good relationships, but something had snapped in him, a dam burst. “ Who cursed , he asks me,” he said, almost to himself, “playing the innocent.” The settlers looked at him, astonished. What’s up with him? All because Josh called the nigger — a nigger? Or he’d been possessed by some left-wing bullshit? Or maybe his girlfriend dumped him, or his promotion’s been held back? Thunder suddenly rolled in, and a heavenly voice rose and intensified and overshadowed the stormy voices debating who would give the IDF officer a dose of his own medicine — it was Josh, backed by tears and arm-waving and heightened emotions.

“You won’t come to my house and tell me what to talk,” he shouted in his still-modest Hebrew. “All I am doing is to protect our homes and to stop nonsense of your orders. I went to Aish HaTorah and came to Israel after 9/11 because to need to do something, it is time to not be silent anymore, and now army tells us to go and Arabs stay? You come and break house we built with our own hands for more than year? You tell me where to be? The land is ours like Torah says without the bullshit of telling me what to do, and here, too”—his voice rose and broke into the scream of a dog that’s been kicked, a match for Omer’s scream a moment ago—“I’m being told what to do? My family are anusim from Spain, you know what that is? Do you know history? You talk to me about a nature reserve? From Spain they expelled us, like dogs, and my ancestors traveled to New Mexico, converted to Christianity, were scared to be Jews. They became cowboys, but their traditions remained — one day I will tell you, if some senses returns to your head — and we became Jews again, I went to yeshiva, I studied Torah, I came to Israel, not afraid of anyone, and you say nonsense about a nature reserve?”

Three soldiers overpowered Josh and cuffed him. He continued to resist, and a few of his friends tried to intervene, but were met by the advance of other soldiers in their direction. “Anusim! Anusim! That’s what we were, and that’s what we are now, don’t touch me, you piece of shit…”

“Smart-ass!” Omer yelled at the young American, who was put into the command car. “I won’t accept talk like that about my soldiers and about the IDF and the state! There are laws here. Yes, we will tell you to obey them and you will listen. We’re now going to post new orders in place of those you ripped, and I’m warning you. God forbid anyone dares to touch a single order. Because then I’ll come and start taking houses to pieces, and I don’t give a shit if the orders say it’s to happen in ten days. I decide, and in a year or two, when there is nothing at all on this hilltop, it’ll be simply a beautiful and peaceful nature reserve — who’ll remember if the homes were razed ten days early?” Omer raised an angry fist. “I won’t tolerate cursing and yelling. One by one we’ll take you into custody for obstructing a soldier in the execution of his duty…”

The sound of a familiar clopping was suddenly heard in the distance, coming ever closer. The stamping of Killer’s canter was well known to everyone on the hilltop, and now into view came the white diamond on the horse’s brown forehead, and he slowed to a light trot before stopping with a tug on the rein. On his back sat Jehu and behind him Gabi, his eyes agape at the sight of the wreckage of the cabin, the soldiers, his fellow settlers, and a deep cry emerged and rose from his chest and from his rib cage and from the cradle of his heart, higher and higher it rose through his middle and into the throat and out the opening of his mouth — an intense scream of anguish that was answered by a desert echo and the wailing of jackals and the howling of dogs and the crying of children and women and a whinny and raised leg from Killer.

Omer was breathing heavily, the sweat glistened on his forehead and flushed cheeks. He hadn’t finished all he intended to say, but Gabi’s cry rooted him to the spot. Next to him stood Yoni, also covered in sweat and his heart pounding while the other soldiers returned to the vehicles, loaded the gear, retrieved new orders. One of them even plastered an order to the stone siding that had served as the backing for the cabin’s wall. An icy gust of wind blew up papers from inside the cabin, knocked a tin coil heater onto its side, waved pieces of fabric.

Yoni remained fixed at his commander’s side. If he wasn’t being discharged next week, he’d probably have to leave. Remaining here would be impossible after this incident. He was confused and distraught, grateful for and moved by Omer’s support, yes, they’d been pushed too far, but at the same time his heart weighed heavy for the stunned settlers; perhaps there had been another way? What would become of Gabi, who’d put his heart and soul into the cabin? Already he felt a sense of responsibility toward the settlers, and when his eyes wandered to them, he felt a pang of longing for Gitit, whose facial features and hair color he found in her younger sister Emunah, and a sentimental lump stuck in his throat.