We began handing out scholarships to students at the beginning of the school year. We have many students in the Valley this year, both continuing and new ones, 22 on our list as well as others receiving scholarships from other donors. The fees in some of the universities have become much steeper, while the donations have stayed the same. Perhaps they have even dwindled. Frustrating.
Schools, too, have opened their year, and like last year, they function only 3 days a week. Sunday, Monday and Wednesday.  This year, too, teachers do not receive a full salary, and this year, too, Israel is not passing over money to the PA. Other donations are not reaching and resuscitating the Palestinian society that greatly suffers. So, Palestinians are used to rely on us, activists, to save them, and we are at least partly helpless.

Today passed peacefully. Lately, perhaps because everything (the world finally criticizing Jewish terror, the heat, the holidays, God knows what else), there is some peace here for the time being in our region. The sheep know it too. There is hardly any milking in the summer. Some sheep are pregnant. There is hardly any grazing. They are fed straw and barley, when available. Even feed is met with anticipating eyes.

One of the shepherds sat with me in a diwan (the public venue for encounters), and in answer to my question went back to their distant past, to talk about the nice times he remembers. He described a large open space. Life following the seasons. Every family and its flock would move from one site to another according to the food sources. Sounds like Beouinism, but we are not allowed to ask whether they are Bedouins. They are proud farmers. But his story describes a life of freedom, encounters with other shepherds. Good relationships. Mutual visits. Rebuilding the tent everywhere they arrive.
He went into details describing his mother, whom he called an engineer of homes – how she would sew large squares of bales (large cloth serving to sew huge sacks) and connect them to each other, large enough for the family to live in. They would place a plastic sheet on the ground, place hard wooden planks and connect a large cloth that would cover it all. The structure would be divided into sections such as a kitchen, a living space, a sleeping space and so on. As a child it was a happy life. Or the looking back at it today enhances it, go figure.
Too bad this remained undocumented, I forgot so many details. The connection with the past, with customs and tradition is so strong, and he believes this is the power that saves them from the horror that is taking place in front of their eyes, their bodies – now.

Later we were in Farisiya and Khalet Makhoul, and everywhere we handed out treasures from our car.