"You should sow love"
The miracle happened a few weeks ago on a measly piece of meadow. In the middle of a village in the interior, between Tel Aviv and Hebron, Jerusalem and Gaza. Eyas Shbeta bends down, picks a cork from the grass. "Tzuba", an Israeli wine brand of a kibbutz up close. He puts it in the hand of his wife Evi Guggenheim-Shbeta, grins. It's just a normal cork and still a proof. For having made the love of Evi and Eyas, what politicians have been trying more or less committed for over 60 years. That Evi and Eyas got together Israelis and Palestinians, at least some: the brother of Evi, for example, who lives as a Jewish settler in the West Bank, and Eyas' parents, whose villages were destroyed in 1948 by Jewish troops. Together, they celebrated the bat mitzvah of Evi and Eyas' youngest daughter, talked and laughed, ate and drank together. Jews and Muslims, Kippa and Veil, the first time together since Evi and Eyas are married.
A Jew and a Palestinian? A difficult connection.
They live in Neve Shalom / Wahat al-Salam. A village with two names, Hebrew and Arabic, and meaning "Oasis of Peace". The Dominican monk Bruno Hussar founded it in 1972 on a former monastery site. "Where there is no love," said Bruno Hussar, "sow love." Palestinians and Jews peacefully together. A place made for Evi and Eyas and perhaps the only place in Israel where the couple can live their love.
Evi Guggenheim-Shbeta, 54, is a Swiss Jew. Eyas Shbeta, 52, is a Palestinian from Taibe. She is an emancipated psychotherapist, with Birkenstock and a smart trouser suit, with many laugh lines that testify to a good life; always straightforward and yet never hurt. He is a political drifter who manages the village, laconic, vigilant and always anxious to emphasize the Palestinian perspective. With spectacles over a colorful plaid shirt. Shortly after the first Intifada erupted in 1987, mobilizing Palestinians and Israelis against each other, they became engaged. They have been married for 20 years. Eyas' mother believed that her son had lost his mind, accused him of bringing shame on the family. And when the two eventually marry, Evis father disinherits his daughter, calls her marriage unnatural.
There were many reservations, including their own. When they first go to the movies together in Jerusalem for the first time, Evi makes sure to stay several steps behind Eyas on the street, asking him not to talk to her, not even in the dark movie theater. "I knew he had to feel terribly humiliated, but I was not ready yet," says Evi. In the middle of a Jewish quarter, together with an Arab - she did not want that. "Today we are a normal couple."
Evi pulls her chin up. She looks rebellious. She still wants her marriage to become a matter of course, becoming commonplace. Three times a week they walk together. They play tennis, mushrooms in the woods. "Absolutely normal." And she knows she provokes normality. There is enough that makes this unequal pair unusual. She likes hummus, the Arab chickpea porridge, he raclette, with Swiss cheese. She hates nothing more than department stores, Eyas has a huge collection of shoes. "We go shopping with our father," says daughter Maï, 17. "He loves that." And Eyas is also often the one who cleans. "He can do it better." Of course, there is also much that they disagree about and do not agree on. At what parties the daughters are allowed to, whether Arafat was guilty of the strengthening of the Israeli right, whether Maï really needs a Nokia 6500 Slide, whether even Saddam Hussein had good sides.
Eyas is sitting on the sofa, legs crossed. The blinds are lowered, the air conditioning hums. Hebrew, Arabic and German books are on the shelf, mixed up. In front of it colorful papier mâché dolls of the daughter, photos, odds and ends.
"We had a tough fight during the second Gulf War," says Evi. Eyas puts his hand on her thigh; not to interrupt her. The hand seems to say: I belong to you, no matter how different we are. "I found it intolerable that he sympathized with Saddam Hussein, that monster, that terrible tyrant." Eyas defends himself. "I did not support the man, but the symbol." Evi looks Eyas challenging into the eyes. "But when the Iraqi Scuds flew over Israel, we ran into the bunker together, clinging to each other, we were scared together."
Your partnership is a concept for the whole village
"I am me and he is he," says Evi."We accept that we are different." So easy? Swallow differences and done? And if there is a fight? "Dispute?" Eyas straightens a little on the sofa. "I'll go to sleep then." Then he is silent. You do not always agree, Evi explains. But they are not that far from each other anyway. None of them applaud when Gaza is bombed, nor when a suicide bomber blew himself up in Jerusalem. And of course, they also take care of each other. For example, on Independence Day, when the Israelis celebrate the founding of their state. For the Palestinians, this day is called al-Nakba, Day of Disaster. "In the past, Yom haAtzmauth meant to me: going out, dancing, drinking, just being happy," says Evi. "I can not do that anymore, I know Eyas and his parents, both of his parents have lost their village, their homeland, both became refugees."
What Evi and Eyas live in partnership is the concept for the whole village. Jews, Muslims and Christians live side by side on equal terms. 27 Israeli and 27 Arab families, of which about half were Christians, the other Muslims. The waiting list is long. Kindergarten, elementary school, secondary school - everywhere there is a Jewish and an Arabic teacher. Nevertheless, Evi and Eyas are the only mixed couple. "Bridge Family," Evi calls it.
Her love grew up with the village. Evi had just finished her studies when she first met Eyas in Neve Shalom. She came on crutches after a riding accident. Back then, 29 years ago, to the peace conference. He already sat around with a full beard and long flowing hair. Unwoven, because the peace village was against him, too Israeli. Actually, he had not wanted to come, had been persuaded. It was very hot. She stood beside him. He helped her with the crutches. They spoke. He, even then taciturn; she fascinates. Eyas was sweating. The conversation hooked. And then she took courage, took a breath and blew in his face. Fresh air. A moment of uncertainty. Then he smiled. Such is their whole relationship.
Again and again one dares something that staggers others, does not know if he will join in what his role should be. Politics is always part of her life. Eyas leads the peace school in Neve Shalom for a long time, now he is mayor. Evi works outside in two psychiatric clinics. When the Oslo Accords are signed on September 13, 1993, all the villagers celebrate a big festival, seven years later at the outbreak of the second Intifada closes out of mourning the Peace School for a month.
Many do not understand the marriage between the Jew and the Palestinian
Is not their relationship totally exposed to the ups and downs of politics? Again, Eyas leaves time. "In Islam it is said that each one, after he dies, is once again faced with the choice in heaven: which woman do you want to marry?" Eyas takes a little break. "I would marry the same woman again." He says this without looking Evi in the eye in love. She says, "We did not marry out of defiance or provocation, it's not a political marriage, it's just love." Something that many do not want to believe and believe. "Israelis who come to visit," says Evi, "are often skeptical." The idea of Neve Shalom goes so far against what they know and live: Arabs and Jews are enemies and must fight each other.
Evi likes to compare the history of the village with the development of a partnership: "In the beginning you only see the similarities and displace everything that could divide until you recognize the differences." If the love is big enough, the couple survives, it grows and unfolds. " Eyas says, "The fact that Neve Shalom would work was much clearer than our relationship, we did not know anything at the beginning, it went back and forth, up and down."
Meanwhile, they have three daughters, who grow up multilingual. Family language is Hebrew, with guests they speak German or English, with their father Arabic, with their mother Swiss German. Next to Maï are Nadine, 15, and Karin, 12. Nobody reveals whether she's Israeli or Palestinian. In Judaism, the Jew is a Jew whose mother is Jewish. In Islam is the Muslim whose father is Muslim. Maï says she is both. "Many people say: That can not be, you have to decide, but I fi nd I can live both." She hesitates. "I can not help it anyway." She stands in the kitchen, preparing rice for stuffed grape leaves, a recipe from her Arabian aunt.
No one in the family is religious. Religion would not work, says Evi, that would be too complicated. Nevertheless, there are traditions. Recently the party in the meadow. Karin, her youngest daughter, celebrated her bat mitzvah, a kind of Jewish confi gation. Friends, people from the village, plus Evis family and Eyas' family, a total of 140 people. Never before had they all come together. Evi shows a photo. The veiled mother of Eyas hooks up with Evis mother. The settler brother of Evi stands laughing next to Eyas. "I am so proud of this party," says Evi."The next morning, I told Eyas how great I thought he had agreed, even though the festival is actually a Jewish one." Eyas and Evi have long been reconciled with their families.
Today, in the living room in Neve Shalom, there is a massive chest; a monument of reconciliation. Evis parents had bought them for their wedding at that time, and when they were 13 years ago the daughter and emigrated to Israel, they brought the formerly disinherited Evi the Emmental closet. "It's my favorite piece," says Evi. "I remember exactly where she stood in our Swiss apartment at that time, I know every secret subject." In the past, the forbidden chocolate was always there. "
Evis own children should not have to experience that the parents are against them. They have other challenges, such as when Eyas and Evi come to no agreement. "Then he says yes and me no or vice versa," says Evi. "I tell my children: If you want permission for anything, you need the permission of both." Evi knows this is not ideal. A common announcement would certainly make it easier for the children. "But they get along, one thing they really took away is that the world is complex."
From the terrace of the house, which they planned and built 15 years ago, the view sweeps far into the fertile Latruntal. On clear days you can see the sea from here, the skyline of Tel Aviv foreshadow. It is her dream, this house. "Here I can live with a clear conscience," says Evi. "Here I know: I did not take the land from anyone." The only tree that they left standing during house construction is an apple tree. Cherry-sized, inedible sour apples are now hanging there in the garden. Only by grafting and refining can one win a pear or apple tree, says Evi.
"Theoretically, it's even possible to have pears and apples on a tree." The same roots, the same tribe, on the same piece of land. And there they stand, the Swiss Jew and the Palestinian Arab, in front of the apple tree in the middle of the Holy Land. One state, two peoples, Evi and Eyas want peace in the Middle East, a big Neve Shalom for the whole country. "If our love is still intact after so many years," says Evi, "it's because we've preserved our origins and identities." She collected grape leaves along the way. "Only the very young, bright green ones are good." That is how she learned from her Arab sister-in-law. He puts two fingers in her other hand. She fanned the vine leaves like playing cards. Then she fanning Eyas air.
Bruno Hussar: a place for everyone - Neve Shalom / Wahat Al-Salam The Dominican monk and son of Jewish parents, Bruno Hussar, had a dream: to create a place where Jews, Muslims and Christians live peacefully together. The land on which the Dominican monk founded the Peace Village in 1972 belongs neither to the Palestinians nor to the Israelis, but to the nearby monastery of Latrun. Five years later, the first families moved to the 100-hectare site. The kindergarten and the school are bilingual, because the children from the village should have access to both cultures. In the peace school, Arab and Jewish youth and adults from all over Israel meet in courses and seminars. Their goal is to develop greater awareness of the conflict and its own role in the participants. www.nswas.org
Read on Evi Guggenheim Shbeta, Eyas Shbeta: "Oasis of Peace", Heyne, 8.95 euros
