The Kibbutzim - Woke Up Alive Travel Notes, 2007
A collection of writing from the filmmakers

After about a year of wandering, I think I found a place that suits me.
The kibbutzim of the Upper Galilee. There’s Kibbutz Dan, Kibbutz Senir,
Kibbutz Dafna, Kibbutz Amir, Kibbutz Kfar Blum and Kibbutz
Hagoshrim. Dan is where the long haired biblical hero Samson grew
up and I’m beginning to feel like my long hair is just as important as
his. It reminds me of everything I went through to “be myself.”

Twice a year, hundreds of millions of migrating birds fly through this
area and the skies are alive. The Hula Lake Reserve - where the cranes
and storks bed down when they’re passing through town - is a few
kilometers up the highway. Professor Amotz Zahavi, who we got to
spend time with in the Arava desert, helped saved this place about
60 years ago, fighting the Israeli government tooth and nail for
every meter.

Nimrod’s Fortress, built in the early 1200’s to defend Syria from the
Sixth Christian crusade, sits majestically high above my window on
rock that appears to have been steam ironed flat by the clouds.
Along the walls of the fortress are numerous rectangular and semi-
circular towers, roofed with level, pointed cross-arches, but I can’t
help but notice the whole thing looks a little crooked. I don’t know
if it was the limitations of 11th century building practices or just the
wear of time that actually gives the fort the illusion of being cock-
eyed today. All I know is a local told me the fort was built by
marauders loyal to Al-Aziz Uthman who essentially got his people to
work like dogs by tricking them into believing he was throwing a long,
drawn out hash party in the mountains.

Regardless of the actual history, if the goings on at the fortress could
be witnessed today by Uthman himself, there’s no doubt he’d rush to
a hash pipe immediately and only then try to sort out the situation.
In the 21st century, Nimrod’s fortress is synonymous with lines of
luxury, air conditioned buses, packed with foreigners and Israelis from
the big cities, complaining that it’s too hot or too cold in ten different
languages, carrying bagged lunches filled with highly marketed,
non-biodegradable containers and digital camera equipment.

The rivers are incredible up here. There’s the Dan River that the
kibbutz is named after, the Banias River, the Hatsbani River and of
course the famous Jordan River. You can even kayak down the
Jordan and Hatsbani at Kfar Blum if you want. More so then any
other, the Banias River feels at home to me. Crystal clear. Little
falls everywhere I look. Wild pigs running all around. Hardly any
tourists, or locals, for that matter. Wild flowers in bloom. This is
why I live in Kibbutz Senir. The Banias is my backyard. A quiet
valley scene in Israel and only this crazy American running around
everyday enjoying it. Just me and whatever kibbutz dog decides to
join me. Dogs this free really are fun to be around. Nachi, my neighbor
Inbal’s little brown dog, is my favorite. He’s tame when he needs
to get his way from a human and a Golan wolf the rest of the time.

There’s an old Russian-made Syrian tank lying untouched in the
water down at the Banias. It’s from the 67 War apparently, or
perhaps the 72 Yom Kippur War. The Syrians say the river is theirs
and it’s amazing how close I am to both Syria and Lebanon right
now. We had the opportunity to spend a lot of time with some Druze
and Palestinians who want to be Syrian up in the Golan Heights.
They treated us really well because we listened and didn’t assume to
know much about Middle Eastern politics. I tried to steer conversations
away from the conflict and toward family or personal interests but it
wasn’t easy.

I’m trying to stay neutral but just a couple of months ago this area
was bombarded by Hezbollah in the Second Lebanon War. Not to
mention the fire power sent back in the other direction toward Lebanon.
It’s peaceful now though. It may be a temporary illusion but I feel
peaceful. I’ll stay here as long as I can.

Fundamentally, everyone I’ve met here has treated me great - Arab,
Jew, Christian - all of them. Just yesterday an Arab up on the mountain
in Mas’ade brought me to his apple orchard. We talked for about two
hours and then he sent me home with a basket of his finest greens.
We made an apple pie that night. Trust is everything but it’s easy for
me because I don’t have a history in the region. If I ever have a history,
it might become a lot more difficult to remain open. But I’ve met a lot of
people in Israel who are at peace and they all basically say the same
thing: “Peace can be found individually anywhere, if you really want it
and work on it.”

The wisest people I’ve met are the ones who fight most to stay “naive.”
Naivety is a privilege, especially when everything around you tells you
that being naïve is a death sentence. When you try to force someone to
be naïve, when they have a lifetime of hard experiences that tell them
otherwise, it can get ugly real fast. At the very least, Israel has taught
me to be more patient.

-Mark Blacknell
director, executive producer

Photo by Eyal Bartov