It has been a week and here we are in Samra, again. Grazing with the shepherds. In the yellowed, hot area. Everything runs quietly. The sheep are not complaining. Many of them are pregnant (twice a year) but have learnt not to complain. Their heads are bent down, eating relentless. Raising dust when they walk fast, looking as if the sea has been split in two.

Since we digested this image, another holy cow has been slaughtered. Did you know that a cloud of dust was thrown into the bad Egyptians’ eyes rather than water? This is how our forefathers reached the Promised Land whole and we suffer more and more every day.

Grazing lasts two hours. More is unbearable. The sheep themselves already let us know we’re homeward bound. The barley is done. And today another truckload arrives with 10 tons that cost 20,000 shekels. It is as golden as gold itself. The truck arrives from Ashdod port.

Rest time, lunch, containing hummus and cauliflower from Abu Ibrahim in Ramat HaSharon. The shepherds eat little. They are very picky. They only like Mom’s food, familiar and loved.

During our rest on easy chairs, we get to the main subjects: how will they deal with the Jews who survive the war they’ll win, living in our houses. Will they place me in a small isolated dark cell alone, or in a large jail. They have not decided yet. These simulations include the Israeli army’s lingo: “Shut up! No talking! Sit down!” These become nice skits, filled with humor. It seems a wonderful technique for quieting down fears.

Later, a delivery of tablets arrives, for which we had been waiting from a generous donor in the north, an Israeli Jew who has become a Buddhist monk. Two university female students will enjoy them, hoping they do better on their exams. Apparently, most college students do have tablets.

At the end of our shift, we pass through Makhoul. We visit Rima. We continue last week’s string-pulled-tops project. Now we see the strings have been decorated with cardboard squares painted by the children. The top’s motor is made up of a small ceramic ball the children created with a hole in the middle. A small wooden stick passes through the ball, holding the painted cardboard. Tomorrow morning the ball will be turned and a colorful, happy top sight will fill the air with joy.

On our way home late, we followed a road accident that occurred in the road ascending from the Palestinian Jordan Valley. Ambulances and a helicopter came to rescue the wounded. All cars were looking for a bypass way to continue. We reached home at 8 p.m.

It is hard to fill a report with strange subjects not connected to the Israeli occupation. On the other hand, that is exactly what Protective Presence does. Its mere existence keeps the colonists away. Mostly they come after our shift. When there is no foreign presence around.