Lemon Tree

who hardly lives off her lemons.

What about a husband?

I knew him well actually,

but he died years ago.

But what will keep a terrorist

from entering the grove,

gathering intelligence,

throwing a grenade, whatever.

Before we respond,

he'll be asleep in Nablus.

Gilad, security fences, watch towers,

sensors, soldiers, the Secret Service.

Not enough? What else can we do?

Do not turn the page

until you are instructed to do so.

Easy, Gilad, easy.

Listen, I don't take the decisions here,

but you see how easy it is.

Everything ok?

Can't complain, Mrs. Navon.

Why do they always give me

the worst jobs?

Stop whining.

Give her the letter and let's go.

I'm starving.

Move it!

Open the door!

Come here! Quick!

Give this letter to Mrs. Salma Zidane.

It's urgent and important. Got it?

Hello, Abu Camal.

Hello, Um Nasser.

How are your wife and kids?

Fine. They kiss your hand.

I came because I received this letter.

You know I can't read Hebrew.

And I have a feeling it's important.

It's from the Central Region Commander,

the son of a b*tch,

informing you

they will cut down your lemon grove,

because the trees pose a threat

to the safety

of the Defense Minister

who lives across from you.

"An immediate and absolute

military necessity."

What's wrong, Um Nasser?

Why are you crying?

Do you know how much land they

confiscated to build prisons for us?

And how many houses they demolished?

It says here you are

eligible for compensation.

The lsraelis are so generous...

Thank you.

But we don't take their money.

You understand that, right?

You're listening to DC Radio 99.9 FM,

in the nation's capital.

The only station that brings you

jazz to sooth your ears.

It's 1 1 :
14

and it's another sunny day here in the capital...

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