almost home

i arrived back in the states this past thursday, spending a few days in washington, d.c., with my friends julia and brandt before i head back to denver tomorrow.

the relative ease of being back in familiar territory oscillates with lingering images of israel/palestine and unrelenting questions as well as the strange sensations of returning to a faster pace of life. though i spent my last two days in tel aviv, where life is very westernized, i can't help but feel i've been thrust back into a society filled with endless choices to satiate every possible desire. i think i actually grimaced in the midst of listening to a waitress rattle off the lengthy list of beers on tap at the divey, underground restaurant we went to the night i arrived. she looked at me sheepishly and asked, "did i say that too fast?" i simply laughed and said, "well, yeah, but only because i just got back in the country." my meal of a veggie burger and tator tots that followed could not have been a clearer indication that i had indeed returned to the u.s. another strange reality is that since i passed through airport security, the only time i have been required to show personal identification was when i purchased a six-pack to add to the dinner we planned to make on saturday night.

julia and brandt's home, which sits in takoma, the northwest region of d.c., provides a quiet respite from the city and has been the perfect place to provide a transition from my travels to my return to my life filled with responsibilities, errands, and to-do lists. in addition to sipping iced coffee drinks and reveling in two brief thunderstorms this afternoon, i've been soaking in a lot of news stories and updates from npr -- something i have not listened to in quite some time.

i spent part of friday walking along the national mall. what i noticed more than anything was the magnitude of the diversity of people here. being adrift in this sea of individuals hailing from all walks of life and all corners of the world in the heart of our nation's capital made me contemplate the ideals for which this country i call home stands. despite the mess of issues facing our country, the sheer fact that we exist as a conglomeration of opinions, beliefs, cultures, and visions reassured me that the ideals i strive to maintain are worth holding onto.

it could be easy to return to the normalcy of life here, to forget about all that i have seen and experienced in the last six weeks; to dismiss the conversations and the people; to escape the complexity of politics that underlies every component of life in israel and palestine. and yet i don't want to do that. i'm not sure how this summer will resonate within my personal life. how it will seep into my personal choices; how it may affect the way i read the news or share the stories of my travels. i am returning with more questions than i had when i left. any time i think i have a newfound kernel of wisdom, i discover a new complication. the world is far from black and white, and the situation on the ground in the tiny stretch of land known as israel and palestine is no different. still, i return with my hope and optimism outweighing the threads of doubt and cynicism that tried to bind me at various moments throughout my journey.


no doubt i will continue to process these experiences for some time, so you might just want to check back in now and again to see if i've decided to tell another story here....

in need of a little tourist downtime, part two

on saturday, i completed the fourth and final day of my workshop with the teachers at the hope flowers school. so i said my goodbyes to the palestinians and internationals with whom i was forging new relationships, repacked my bags, and set out on sunday for my final stretch of experiences before heading back to the states.

i headed to ramallah with my new friend liz, a fellow denverite whom i met, where? in nablus.

ramallah is the most "normal" feeling city of all those i have visited in the west bank. it's international in that the palestinians here hail from all over the globe. when i asked a couple of teens that i met here several weeks ago where they were from, they said "virginia" and "ohio." it wasn't quite the response i expected.

liz and i couldn't resist checking out what was behind that green logo that greeted us just one long block away from the bus station... don't be fooled -- we didn't hang out all day at starbucks. heavens no. we did, however, revel in the ingenuity and humor of the palestinians.

and we just loved that the menus were made with ping pong paddles. sadly, there was no table upon which to play...



that's liz, by the way.


and that's me, enjoying my yummy vanilla frapo ' chino (as they were called on the menu).

we think this place has starbucks beat. not only can you order up an icy cold beverage; here they serve an array of mideast style sandwiches and you can top off your visit by smoking an argila (water pipe).

in need of a little tourist downtime, part one

i have come to discover that the entirety of the world does not function on the five day work week followed by two consecutive days off. for the hope flowers school, the work week is punctuated with a day off on friday, followed by a work day on saturday, and another day off on sunday... not a situation conducive to traveling or getting those errands run...

on top of this, transportation on a friday can be sketchy -- friday is the holy day for muslims, and shabbot (the jewish holy day) begins at sundown. add to that the fact that leaving bethlehem requires maneuvering checkpoints. managing these constraints and figuring out the necessary logistics can make for a rather tiresome day off. so what's a girl to do???

... head to the pool.

it is summer, after all.

and it's been darn hot in palestine!



these are pictures of the intercontinental hotel in bethlehem. this five star hotel is located a stone's throw from the separation wall (literally) and next door to a refugee camp. the irony of it all is something that i still can't seem to wrap my head around.

this place felt strikingly similar to the resort i went to with the fulton family last summer in mexico. i kept expecting one of them to show up on the pool deck for a cocktail and plate of nachos. only here, everyone was speaking arabic and drinking carlsberg (a strange phenomenon).

little things are big

i have been skeptical during my time in bethlehem in terms of my role as a volunteer at the hope flowers school. to put it briefly (something i rarely do), volunteer positions often seem to be nebulous voids that the volunteers are supposed to magically fill. at least, that's the impression i've had from the internationals i've met here. most of these positions seem to be self-made or self-directed. and things happen slowly here. which may not be a bad thing, but coming from the u.s. where multi-tasking, deadlines, expectations, and too much on one's plate are the norm, this pace can be painful.

basically, i was asked to provide a training for teachers. i requested a meeting with the school's director to learn more about the reality of the school (beyond what i had already gleaned from the web site) and to clarify the parameters of what they were looking for from me. this resulted in a slightly defined framework -- could i share the philosophy and approach of what i do in the u.s. (i.e. expeditionary learning) and share some practical methods of teaching ethics (i.e. how one incorporates character education into the academics). that should be easy enough. maybe. but where to begin? thank goodness i bothered to bring my laptop with me, so i could at least use a few resources i already have. and special thanks to the folks back home who patiently dealt with my emails lamenting my concerns and who returned love and support (i could definitely feel it).

i'll spare you the details of the uncertainties that followed, of the lack of supplies (they wanted me to put together a training manual but there was no paper on which to print it), of the feeling of being completely on my own...

the training began yesterday. and while i have no idea whether or not the five teachers with whom i spent two and a half hours in the late afternoon found the time worthwhile, i definitely felt a sense of joy from our exchange.

i barely made it through a quarter of what i had planned for the afternoon. of course there was the slow process of communication with everything being translated to arabic and back again. (i loved conducting a think-pair-share in which i explained the process and gave them questions to respond to in english, this was explained in arabic, the women would write and then share their thinking with each other in animated conversations in arabic, followed by reporting out in a combination of arabic and english.) and then there was the issue of EL-speak -- the terms used within this pedagogy, such as expedition, protocol, learning target, guiding questions...

and no matter what i shared with them, i was met with an endless stream of questions. about everything. really. they wanted to know all of the details of odyssey -- the classroom size, the daily schedule, the configuration (they couldn't get over the multiage setup we have -- it simply fascinated them); they marveled that they didn't see desks in neat rows in the pictures i showed them; they wanted to know about the students who qualify for free or reduced lunch at odyssey and if "u.s. poor" is the same as "bethlehem poor." the list goes on and on. and they wanted me to answer them all -- including the big magic wand ones as to how i make it all work. ("yes, but how do you do it?" "yes, but how do you get them to show good character?") "schway schway," i tell them (that's my bad English transliteration of the Arabic) -- in other words, "slowly."

i'll close this post with a list. these were the responses the women had to my questions of 1) what values do you wish to instill in your students and 2) what behaviors do you want to encourage and strengthen. i think you'll notice the commonalities, despite the cultural differences.

forgiveness
love
purity
integrity
respect
independence
trust in one's self
humility
frankness / openness
no bias (which i translate as tolerance)
patriotism (okay, so many teachers i know wouldn't include this one on the list)
belonging
_____

to follow their passions
to be honest
engage with others
speak up (and have the courage to do so)
be willing to acknowledge their faults
persistence
showing respect
cooperation
willingness to help others
accepting one's self as is
working to improve one's self

shades of grey

balata, the setting of the poem in my previous post, is a refugee camp outside of nablus. the largest camp in the west bank, it holds some 25 - 30,000 residents in just two square kilometers (estimates vary according to different sources). it is definitely crowded and cramped with nowhere to go but up.

i spent my days in nablus and balata with a few international companions -- jennifer and liz, two fellow denverites who are spending five weeks in nablus, teaching a poetry class at an najah university while also conducting work to boost the efforts of RJI (research journalism initiative); michael, a self-made photographer from south carolina who is finishing up a masters degree in anthropology in cairo -- and a man named mohammad, a journalism student, photographer, and a darn good cook; he also happens to be a palestinian refugee and resident of balata.

traveling to nablus stirred a lot of questions and uncertainties within me, while at the same time challenged me to push past preconceptions, stereotypes, and fearful suspicions.

you see, nablus is a hotbed where incursions are so frequent they have become an aspect of normal daily life. the media paints nablus as the breeding grounds for terrorists, giving the impression that every individual, family, and institution is inextricably tied to hamas or some other militant islamic organization. and yes, nablus has its share of fighters and other issues and it was a frontrunner during both intifadas and continues to engage in armed resistance. there is a strange tension in its patriotic loyalty and the bolstering of the memories of fighters who have met death.

this past week tensions were high as the israeli government announced its plans to shut down some 30+ NGOs operating in the west bank, claiming they are fronts for Hamas terrorist activity and fundraising. beginning last monday, july 7, the raids into nablus began, resulting in the ransacking and closing of a girls' school and a boys' club, the confiscation of school busses from a kindergarten and other schools, a raid on city hall, the seizure of computers and documents from the palestinian authority's ministry of religion. they also shut down the mall. each night, the israeli military came into the city, using the empty lot a block from my flat as a staging area and the street below our balcony as a place to park their jeeps and hummers. somehow i managed to sleep through two hours of the rumbling caused by their idling engines echoing off the walls of my temporary apartment on saturday night. liz wasn't as lucky.

while i met only three full-time residents of nablus during my brief two day visit, i managed to stumble upon those who strongly believe in non-violent resistance despite their personal experiences and all that they have witnessed. two of the three have been in prison (one at the age of 15); these same two have been shot (evidenced in one by a pronounced limp as he never fully recovered); one is still quite young and hopefully will not experience these same calamities. all have witnessed death, have lost friends and family, and know a life of occupation. they know young men who have chosen the path of becoming militants and fighters. still, they have chosen a different path.

mohammad uses photography as a way to express himself. his photos have been used to spur dialogue and writing in classrooms in colorado. at one point in the afternoon, jennifer shared an article with mohammad that she had written, which was published along with ten or so of his photos. to say he beamed with pride would not do justice to the immense joy that poured from him when he saw his photos in print and read her words. he repeatedly pulled the document up on his desktop as we sat around discussing the role of internationals in places like balata and the best means of developing NGOs and defining their purpose. at least once he had tears in his eyes.

later that evening, as i sat in mohammad's living room, eating a delicious meal prepared by him especially for us, i couldn't help but wonder how he smiles the way he does, at times blushing in a boyish way and at other times laughing whole-heartedly.

i encourage you to check out one of mohammad's projects -- picture balata -- a program he co-founded, designed to get cameras into the hands of balata youth so that they may find a voice and tell the story of life in the camp from their perspective. three of these students were selected to go to the U.S. last year to exhibit their work and speak to audiences about their experience as palestinians.

i had the good fortune of meeting taha, one of the three students who made the trip to the states. he dropped by mohammed's flat and helped prepare dinner and then stayed to join us for the meal. at the end of the evening, he hailed a taxi for us (as he left to do so, jokes were made that he was the best one among us to do this, seeing as taxi drivers were the subject of his photo essay). taha walked us out of the camp and made sure we were safely on our way. you can read his statement and see his photos on the picture balata web site.

snapshots

walking through narrow passageways of balata
the concrete walls of cramped buildings
press in from both sides
everything grey and hard
the light seeps in from above

flattened coke bottles
a lone shoe
shredded remains of plastic bags
blue, black, and tan
line the edges
and are strewn along the roadways

some may think these people don't care
though Jennifer notes that disenfranchisement
often looks a lot like laziness

children emerge from doorways
peer down alleyways
their dark round eyes gaze upward
steadily
glaring smiles and genuine curiosity
surround us

the chorus of now familiar phrases
punctuates the warm air
hello --
how are you?
what is your name?
in practiced and annunciated tones

soon we have a following

young boys press together in hopes
my friend Michael will snap a photo
they grin and giggle and begin posing
he stoops and focuses his lens

the boys huddle around him
lean in against his shoulder
eager to see their image
captured in time

we turn the corner
to a wider street
Mohammed cautions that we watch
our step
ripples of "dirty water"
stream past us
sewage, he tells us
though we already know

we are now outside the camp
newly constructed homes
built by refugees who have some money
border the edges of poverty
they chose to stay near the camp

a handful of women
bend in the nearby field
goats huddle on the rocky slope
munching the scraggly shoots
kites flutter in the high winds

in the distance someone points to
the other refugee camp
constructed by Israel
housing immigrants from Africa

we turn once again and shuffle
toward the top of the hill
Liz is absorbed by children
constantly engaging them with
high fives and handshakes
a boy takes her hand and walks
alongside us for a while

i can't get over the smell
choking me on this stretch of road
children play together in the street
with a tattered soccer ball
others kick around an old sprite bottle

martyr posters rather than flyers
announcing cultural events
decorate the sides of buildings
each gives the name of the person pictured
a message from the Koran
details of the death
perhaps images that coincide

a pair of eyes stare out at me
from the peeling paper
the boy can't be more than seven
or eight years old

walking through this place
i wonder what it would mean to live here
glimmers of hope in a hopeless scene
wondering what the future has to offer
these children
bright eyed
with toothy grins
who marvel at the foreigners
who have descended into their midst

another layer to add to my experience

(note: the dates on my posts are quirky. this one was actually written late in the night on july 8)

i've been spending some time reflecting on my purpose for coming to israel / palestine and why i would dedicate six weeks of my summer break to traveling and volunteering in the region.

primarily, i came to witness and discover what it means to be working on peace efforts and human rights issues on a grassroots level within a conflict area. my hope was to meet individuals, both israeli and palestinian, and visit organizations, both in israel and the west bank, that are engaged in this work on a daily basis. looking back on these last few weeks, i feel that i have done a fairly good job of working towards that goal. i have meet with israeli organizations, palestinian organizations, and international organizations.

due to the nature of these organizations, i have been in the midst of people who are against the occupation. much of their work involves educating people about the "facts on the ground" by exposing them to present living conditions in the occupied territories, the expansion of settlements, and the presence of the separation wall. in this way, i have seen a lot that i had previously only heard rumor of or read about.

my time seemed to slow down last week when i shifted from this heavily scheduled travel itinerary to a more sedentary experience as i began working with the hope flowers school, a palestinian school in the bethlehem area that focuses on peace building and democratic education. i welcomed this shift though i also found myself growing restless after so much activity came to a sudden halt. my days were spent at the educational center of the school, mostly in a daze of trying to bridge cultural, language, and philosophical gaps while trying to figure out precisely what my role would be and what they were hoping to gain from my short time with them. initially, it appeared that we had quite divergent ideas of what i would be doing and i found myself struggling with how to handle the situation. then, on thursday, a summer remedial session began and the center was filled with a couple dozen students from various schools in the area. i sat in and observed a few lessons -- math (which is rather interesting to observe in spoken and written arabic) and english classes.

the uplifting moment of the week was when one student, a boy of about 10, walked over from his table in the far corner from where i was sitting, and introduced himself, saying "i'm hazem. what is your name?" he then promptly walked over to a nearby table, grabbed a lump of clay from a thick brick of the sticky gray substance, and returned to place it in my hand. he then walked away, took care of some business with his teacher, grabbed his chair, and repositioned himself next to me. he began molding the clay into numbers and symbols, arranging them in equations. i assisted by making short rolls of clay that could by used in "plus" and "equal" signs. he probably has no idea, but hazem made my week a whole light brighter. kids will do that. fortunately, i can say that i made it through the awkward stages of my first week of volunteer work despite its challenges and moments of utter uncertainty and now have a clearer sense of what i can offer the teachers there.

on the social side of things, my evenings and "days off" were eventful. i was now meeting other internationals engaged in various volunteer positions in bethlehem -- mostly individuals from holland and germany with jobs at the children's hospital, the SOS village, the AIC (alternative information center), the international center of bethlehem (as the communication coordinator), and hope flowers (as the PR officer). i accepted two invitations to share meals in palestinian homes. i attended two evenings of the bethlehem music festival (a surprising cultural event put together by swedes and palestinians). i celebrated my roommate's birthday. i went on a tour of historical sites that included shepherd's field, the herodian, and the mar saba monestary.

just as things became more natural and i was developing a sense of routine in bethlehem, i returned to israel and am presently discovering a new neighborhood in west jerusalem. i am in day two of the international conference on Holocaust education being hosted by Yad Vashem and the International School on Holocaust Education. saying this is a shift in my experience thus far would be an understatement. i find myself in the presence of over 700 other individuals, hailing from 52 different countries. the variety of conversations enthrall me; the complexity of issues and brevity of their presentation astound me (nine speakers / presenters in today's experience alone from germany, south africa, the u.s., israel, canada...). unwittingly, i have gravitated to a group of germans (three men and one woman), a woman from holland, a woman from austrailia, a woman from the u.k., and keep bumping into a couple from canada.

tonight i went for a walk with the woman from the u.k. and another woman she met today. we headed down jaffa street from where we are staying (i'm at a b&b just up the street from one of the conference hotels). at some point we walked along the area where the bulldozer driver killed and wounded israelis just six days ago. we found the mahane yehuda market, which is much larger than i imagined. though the majority of stalls and shops were closed (it was after nine o'clock), i could get a sense of the place. the items for sale mimicked the scene in the old city souq -- hummus, olives, fresh made juices, cherries, peaches, plums, healthy vegetables... i hope to find time to return when the market is in full swing. we continued on, hoping to find a bit of nightlife but losing faith, when we stumbled upon ben yehuda street -- a bustling pedestrian area that made us feel as though we could have been anywhere in the world (aside from the plentiful judaica available in every storefront that made it distinctly israeli) . street performers entertained with melodies and theatrics, groups of people filled little cafes and congregated around various spots in the walkway, women walked hand and hand, various languages filled the air, kids ran around and rode their bicycles... a jewish israeli version of the pearl street mall in boulder or any other such area in nearly every city around north america and europe.

what qualifies as terrorism?

jaffa road is a road that i have come to know rather well during my stay in jerusalem. at least the small section of it that connects the old city with the city center and further reaches of west jerusalem. i have walked along this road on numerous occassions to reach the post office or withdraw money from a local ATM, to spend time at dalia on saturday nights or simply walk around to get a feel for the nightlife of israelis in jerusalem. perusing the mahane yehuda market is on my list of things to do though i have not made it there yet.

i have also seen the construction zone that runs along the busy street that represents the green line, often referred to as "the seam." here, tracks are being laid for a new light rail system, one that -- rumor among israeli human rights organizations has it -- may be designed to serve israelis exclusively, with no planned stops to serve palestinian neighborhoods and villages. i have walked past several caterpillar brand bulldozers, operated by palestinians, breaking up the sidewallk and uprooting trees to make way for the project.


because of this, the bulldozer incident that occurred in jerusalem on july 2 has been constantly on my mind. it's hard to make sense of what took place that afternoon -- the motives of the driver, his intentions, his emotions as he was carrying out his actions. such seemingly random acts of violence do not have simple explanations. was he purposefully carrying out a premeditated act against jewish israelis? was he simply pushed over the edge like many others throughout the world who have resorted to mass violence as a way out? i will never know.

what i do know is that various news reports have referred to the driver of the bulldozer as a "terrorist" and that israeli prime minister ehud olmert has called this a terrorist attack. b'tselem, an israeli organization working for human rights in the occupied territories, has named the incident a terrorist attack as well. even those reports that seem a bit more reserved in terms of labeling the man as a terrorist have compared this event to other known acts of terrorism that have occurred in jerusalem previously. other individuals and groups distinguish wednesday's events from those that have been labeled as terrorist acts. a woman i met yesterday at OCHA (the UN office for the coordination of humanitarian affairs) felt that this occurrence was more similar to the acts of public violence that occur in the u.s. (which tend to be given some other label) than to those calculated or premeditated attacks that fit our worldview of terrorism; one reason she held this view is the fact that the area in which the attack occurred was one filled with people from all walks of life -- jewish israelis, palestinians, and internationals -- and that anyone could have been the recipient of his violence. yet in the broad sense of the term, high school shootings and occupational rage would fall into the category of terrorism as well.

regardless of what we call this act, the israeli government's response has been to announce plans to demolish the home belonging to the man driving the bulldozer. one official has gone further, proclaiming that all palestinians living in east jerusalem should have their israeli IDs revoked. from those i have spoken to in jerusalem, the demolition is a likely event while the revocation of IDs will most likely not occur, though these same people state that this is an action the government has long been looking for an opportunity to carry out.

responses by the government that call for collective punishment are equally hard for me to understand. the event that took place in west jerusalem on wednesday has been in the front headlines these past few days. what is missing from these reports are the 35 palestinians who have been killed by the israeli government in the month of june alone; of the numerous house demolitions that have been carried out by these same yellow caterpillars that wrought devistation in the lives of so many individuals just a few days ago.

i am not condoning the horrific actions taken by Hussam Dwayyat, the 30-year-old driver of the bulldozer. no act of murder is excusable. however, i am trying to make sense of what we choose to label as terrorism; what we choose to label as security; what we see as provocation or retribution; what we consider justifiable and what we consider intolerable.

below, i have pasted an article that was sent to me from a friend in the states. i'm not sure where this piece originated, but it gives a window into some of the thoughts swimming in my head. (i later learned that this piece was posted on a site called mideast youth thinking ahead)
__________ __________
"an eye for an eye, a bulldozer for a bulldozer"

author: Miriam (Egypt/Israel/USA) - July 2, 2008

What happened in Jerusalem today? A Palestinian with an East Jerusalem ID who is a frontloader (bulldozer) driver purposefully overturned a bus and smashed into cars and pedestrians on the crowded Jaffa Street, killing three and wounding 44. One of the dead is the mother of a 5-month old, who survived the attack as an orphan. The BBC’s short video and eyewitness account of the end of the attack, when an off-duty Israeli soldier used the handgun of another civilian to kill the driver, is chilling.

Immediately, according to Haaretz, Israel’s Prime Minister Ehud Olmert called for high-level talks on what kind of retribution/deterrent is appropriate for Israel to practice against Palestinians who are legal residents of Israel who perpetrate crimes against Israelis. Ehud Barak, former Prime Minister and current Defense Minister, answered promptly: house demolitions.

If politics were about poetic justice, I’d have to hand it to Mr. Barak. You take a bulldozer into our streets and kill civilians, we take a bulldozer to your home and leave your family on the street. But the person who perpetrated the attack is dead. Though three different groups have claimed responsibility for the attack, the motives of this 30-something remain unclear and he may have acted alone and without disclosing his plans. Should his wife and children and his neighbors be punished? In a democracy, a civil suit for damages may be brought against the estate of the perpetrator of a crime. This is a far cry from a bulldozer arriving at his door the following morning. The families of Yigal Amir (Rabin’s assassin) and Eden Natan Zada, two Jewish Israeli terrorists who murdered Israeli citizens, did not face home demolitions.

On my way to the East Jerusalem neighborhood of Anata in February, I heard two Palestinians in the bus with me talking about the Caterpillar bulldozer driving in front of us. “Man, I could really use one of those to help with my home renovation,” said one. “It would make the work go so much faster.” “My cousin knows a guy…” said the other.

I was startled at the light tone of this conversation, given the symbolism of the bulldozer for the Palestinian people since 1967. Today was not the first time this machine was used as an instrument of murder. A bulldozer killed Jamal Fayad of Jenin refugee camp in his home in 2002, and there are many more incidents of similar fatalities in the West Bank and Gaza. A bulldozer infamously killed Rachel Corrie, an American volunteer in Rafah in 2003.

B’Tselem and the Israeli Committee Against House Demolitions document the use of bulldozers in violation of the human rights of Palestinians. House demolitions as retribution or as a deterrent are a form of collective punishment. This policy is therefore against international law, but has been used in the Occuped Palestinian Territories. The complexity of the issue of house demolitions was recently broken down for the novice by Seth Freedman in the Guardian. [read freedman's article dated july 2 here] There have been many international calls to boycott the Caterpillar company for being complicit in the policies of an illegal occupation. Poetic justice may have become a bit too complex for the Defense Minister to handle.

The question posed by Prime Minister Olmert about Israel’s deterrence policy as it applies to East Jerusalemites, to demolish or not to demolish, brings up the much more complex issue that today’s attack has brought into high resolution: how does Israel feel about its Palestinian citizens and those whose ID cards allow them to move freely anywhere inside the Green Line?* Uncomfortable, uneasy. The phrase “fifth column” is often whispered and sometimes shouted. After I took a moment to pray for those who were injured or lost their lives today, my thoughts turned to my friends in East Jerusalem. Will they be able to go to work, to travel? Will students registered for summer camps or activities in West Jerusalem be able to attend? What additional security measures will they face? The Prime Minister of Israel today referred to the “potential terrorists” in their midst: will they be viewed with a renewed suspicion?

What happened in Jerusalem today? A nightmare. A bulldozer, the monster beneath the collective Palestinian-Israeli bed, came alive and turned on civilians. A horrific act of violence that is unjust, unpoetic. And so is the reaction of certain members of the Israeli government.

*The East Jerusalem ID and the regular Israeli ID differ slightly with regard to voting rights and international travel.

__________ __________

in response to the planned actions of the government, b'tselem, despite condemning the act of violence itself, has called on the israeli government to halt the demolition.

in many ways, i feel far from jerusalem while i am in bethlehem. aside from officials, it seems that few people are speaking about what took place just a few kilometers away from this small city, making me think it is just another in a long series of incidents that occur here on a regular basis. i wonder what would happen if similar acts of terror at home resulted in house demolitions or the mass removal of rights from an entire community. would we tolerate it? would we consider it justice? many people might respond that the situation here is different. perhaps that is true. but in my experience, when horrific things like this occur at home, we grieve as a community. we question what could have provoked such brutal actions, and we attempt to do a better job of treating one another with care and compassion.

yesterday i had a day off from the educational center where i am now volunteering and ventured into jerusalem for the morning. as usual, i took the #21 bus from bethlehem. this time when we got to the checkpoint in beit salam, we were made to exit the bus to show our i.d.s / passports and have our bags inspected as the bus was searched. everyone climbed back aboard but the bus was made to pull off to the side as the soldiers discussed some problem they were having and then began to search the back of the bus again. the driver told us that they had found something that caused them alarm and that resulted in the bus not being allowed to cross into jerusalem. the item that they found turned out to be the metal bar of a footrest that had broken off of a seat and was tossed into the back of the bus. we filed off the bus once again and waited for the next bus to approach and take us the rest of the way to jerusalem. again, as often is the case, i do not know what caused this passage through the checkpoint to be different than others; whether this was due to "heightened security" following wednesday's events or some source of information received by the IDF warning of a future occurrence or simply a strange coincidence.

walking through the streets of east jerusalem and the old city felt the same as they have on previous occassions. i continued to see the yellow caterpillars driving through the streets, i saw further progress on the construction of the light rail, and i interacted with the merchants along the streets and within the souk. i'm not sure what sense to make of all of this, but it definitely has given me a lot to ponder.

a question of access

"it is not every day i am able to meet people from outside who are interested in our cause. it will be up to you to decide, when you go back, what you will do with what you know to help our situation." -- a resident of jayyous

last wednesday we packed up from tiberias and began our journey back to jerusalem. the day was spent primarily in the west bank. much of what i witnessed and learned today was hard to swall, though somehow i am feeling hopeful and find solace in the resiliency of the human spirit.

driving south from the galilee along highway 6,
we eventually began traveling along the green line, with the separation wall dividing israel from the west bank. from the israeli side, the wall is barely visible, and therefore, hardly noticeable as it is almost entirely hidden from view by an embankment covered with shrubs and occasional flowers. lurking behind this earthen curtain, the concrete wall stands 10 meters high. depending on which side you are standing, you see very different realities.

we attempted to enter qalquilia, a palestinian village directly bordering the green line that managed to put up a good fight in 1948 and was never taken by israeli forces during the war. today, it is completely enclosed by the wall with only a single road in and out, which is controlled by a security checkpoint. this area falls in the category of "area a," meaning it is under the jurisdiction of the palestinian authority. therefore it is restricted to israelis according to israeli law. despite the fact that no one on our bus was israeli, the bus itself was considered to be, due to its yellow license plates. the soldiers at the checkpoint refused to let us enter. last year, this had not been an issue when joy and arnie brought their group here. it seems that this was not actually a restriction (as last year's bus also had israeli plates) but rather a decision by the soldiers on guard.


fortunately, the UN vehicle passed without incident.

i wish that we had gained access so as to see the living conditions of those existing in this walled city, which i must say gave the impression of how i have always envisioned ghettos to have been constructed. supposedly, the wall cut right through a school in this town, though i was unable to see that for myself.

each instance of encountering the wall adds to my perception that the path it takes is arbitrary. today we were given statistics of the footprint of the wall in terms of the one and a half million olive trees uprooted and tens of thousands of homes demolished to make way for the wall. this is not to mention the countless other issues of communities being disrupted or destroyed, programs halted or changed, the lack of access to lands and services, the separation between home and work or school, and the confiscation of land. maybe if the wall were being built solely along the green line these issues would seem less severe, but instead the majority of the wall exists on occupied palestinian land within the west bank.

disappointed and frustrated by having to turn around at the checkpoint, we continued on to jayyous, where we saw a firsthand account of a community of farmers being cut off from land to which they have rightful ownership. here, the wall is not the ominous concrete structure as seen in qalquilia but rather an electrified fence of chainlink and razor wire. the area has been declared a military zone by the israeli government. as we viewed the land from a rooftop in the village, tractors plodded along the military road, grading the shoulders in order for the soldiers to monitor for footprints of anyone attempting to cross. apparently, this is a practice that the u.s. employs along the mexican border to watch for illegal immigrants.

gates exist every so often along the wall, though i don't know how many or how far between. from the rooftop, only one gate was visible along a long stretch of road. the majority of these gates are open three times a day for one hour at a time to allow the villagers to access their lands and return home. one gate is open from 7 to 7.

we all climbed back into our bus and rode to this particular gate to get a better sense of it. we drove through thick olive groves and a few citrus groves as well, with the rocky, narrow road eventually turning to run alongside the fence. when we got to the gate we watched as small groups of villagers (four or five at a time) approached on their tractors and were made to show their i.d.s to cross back to the village side of the gate. as one group passed, they cheered for us and said, "come back every day! today we passed so quickly!" we attempted to cross through the gate ourselves but were not permitted to do so by the guards. we asked why but received no response. we tried to engage them in conversation, but they did not feel like talking with us. eventually, they left the place where we stood and went toward a building and were out of our sight.

we ventured back to the village and enjoyed an amazingly flavorful lunch prepared by the women's committee. this was my introduction to taboon, a type of flatbread that is baked with zatar and other spices, onions, and nuts. delicious.

the individuals i met and the stories i heard about the work of the women's committee, the struggles the farmers face, and the impact of the high rate of imprisonment of young men from this village will hopefully find their way into another posting.

blessed are the peacemakers...

last tuesday was a dizzying day spent visiting numerous holy sites of the christian faith in the galilee; we made seven stops in all to places commemorating the events and miracles of jesus' ministry in this region. we first visited kibbutz ginossar, where they have a first century fishing boat on display that was discovered when the waters of the galilee had receded and was semi-recently excavated. it has earned the nickname "the jesus boat" as it is said that it very well could be a boat that he had utilized at some point during his life. at the very least, it's just like those common during his time on earth.


we went for a boat ride on the sea of galilee, though we were on a much more modern boat. :) strangely, as we pulled away from the shore, the men operating the boat raised an american flag and played the star spangled banner. this has to have been one of the strangest juxtapositions i've experienced on the trip. they told us to stand up and sing, out of respect for the flag, though many of us chose not to -- the "flag" was a small piece of fabric that was printed only on one side, and the touristy nature of it all made it rather farcical. i wasn't quite sure how they viewed this as patriotic or moving for those of us onboard.

the boat ride itself provided the opportunity to get a sense of this place and imagine the history that has passed through it. it is easy to see why jesus and his followers would have spent time here -- the landscape is beautiful and provides an escape from other areas. this would be the place to rest, relax, and rejuvenate as i discovered for myself.

of the other stops along our route, i enjoyed being on the mount of the beatitudes the most. the church, constructed on the sight where jesus gave his famous speech, sits on top of a high hill overlooking the sea of galilee and is surrounded by gardens. arnie read the eight blessings from matthew, and i pondered the messages held within, both for those listening at the time of jesus proclaiming the words himself and for those of us present here today.

blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called the children of god -- there are many people on both sides of this issue striving for peace and justice and human rights. in my mind, it doesn't matter whether one sees the palestinians as right or wrong in their struggle. rather, it matters that we see them as fellow human beings deserving of the same human rights entitled to each of us. yes, there have been atrocities committed on both sides of this conflict. however, more of us need to strive for an attitude of being peacemakers and, more importantly, living that attitude in our words, interactions, and choices we make on a daily basis.

not on any map

already a week has gone by without my finding time to write any posts about the many experiences, people, and emotions i have encountered.  i feel that i need an entirely separate set of days to capture all that i am observing and taking part in... i find it hard to decline from an activity or event in order to make time to decompress and breath in and out, rather than simply taking it all in.  even tonight i found it hard to decline an invitation to watch the final game of euro 2008 with a group of palestinians at the jerusalem hotel.  alas, i managed to decline after much internal struggle and have returned to the hebron hostel once again before heading to bethlehem in the morning.

each day of the past week has had its ups and downs.  after my experience of the bethlehem checkpoint on a typical monday morning, i traveled north to the galilee via tel aviv and haifa on the western coast.  the events of that day are becoming a bit of a blur, though i recall visiting roman ruins, including an impressive stone aqueduct, along the shore of the mediterranean.

     

  

     

the highlight of the day came with a visit to ein hod.  the strange thing about this place is that there are actually two ein hods -- the original village that is currently an artists' colony and a second village that is perched further up the mountainside and is an example of an unrecognized village in israel. previous to our visit, i had no idea that such villages existed.  the inhabitants of the upper village are palestinians who fled from their homes during the war of 1948 to the forests of the mountainside above their village.  

following the war these families intended to return to their homes, which still stood below; however, this was not allowed under the "absent - present" law: even if someone is a citizen of israel, if they leave their property for a given amount of days, it is considered abandoned and the individual can loose their land.  this allowed the original village to become inhabited by jewish israelis.  the former residents became arab israelis, though they were without homes, causing them to be considered "internally displaced."  they began building a new community for themselves in the area where they had been in hiding during the war.  

despite having been granted citizenship, they did not receive any services from the state -- no water, no electricity, no waste disposal, no roads, no school, no medical facilities.  they are not allowed to build without permits from the israeli government, which i might add are not possible to secure if your town does not exist, so the majority of their buildings are illegal and face demolition at any time.  in 1993 there was a protest against a lack of services and to demand recognition by the government; i believe that this was the largest arab israeli demonstration to ever occur.  these protests brought about some minor changes, such as two villages being allowed to pump in water, though they had to purchase and lay the piping systems themselves.  finally, in 1994, the government recognized five villages, including ein hod, though 100+ others still await water, electricity, and recognition.

since this time, ein hod has managed to secure water in 2004, has built a school (that has a sign in front written in hebrew and arabic that explains the school), and is slowly introducing electricity (they rely on a generator, though they now have two houses connected to electricity and a third currently slated for connection).  the pictures below fail to capture how well constructed the new buildings are and the amazing beauty of the land on which they are situated.  the green building houses a restaurant, where the villagers prepared the most amazing lunch for us.  in order to truly partake in the culture, i even ventured to try the lamb, which was fairly good but not enough to convert me from being a vegetarian.

after lunch we visited the original village that is now the artist colony to take in the architecture.

"my struggle for the past 30 years was to exist.  to take water as a right, not as a favor from anybody." -- ein hod arab israeli resident who is the owner of the restaurant

monday morning commute

this morning i woke at 4:45 a.m. and met arnie, one of the leaders of my group, at 5:15 to walk out of the damascus gate to catch one of the first arab busses to the bethlehem checkpoint.  the man who owns my favorite little bakery in the muslim quarter was sitting near the turnaround with three boxes of pastries, selling them to those on their way to work and other early risers.  we spoke for a moment as we waited for the bus.  at 5:40 we rode through the city, the sun just beginning to peak above the trees, casting a warm glow over the stonework of the buildings.  in less than ten minutes we pulled up to the checkpoint.

groups of palestinians congregated in various areas or sat lined up against low walls, waiting to be picked up for the final leg of their commute to work.  the busses pulling away from this area to head into jerusalem were full, while arnie and i were the only passengers arriving to pass through to bethlehem.  as we walked into the terminal, i was surprised by its emptiness.  three or four of the twelve security gates were operating, with a few people lined up at each, waiting to show their documents.  the woman sitting in the booth examined our passports and we passed through, walking through the two separate turnstyles and out the building to the open (yet caged) area between gates.

crossing through to the second security point, which is the entry from the bethlehem side, i was confronted by the reality of this checkpoint: hoards of palestinian men lined the gated corral, waiting to be allowed entry into the checkpoint itself.  images that remain with me are their hardened and tired expressions.  unexpectedly, i found myself having a hard time looking directly into their faces, into their eyes, though that is precisely what i wanted to do -- to see each man as an individual and to somehow express my belief that these requirements are unjustified.  whether this discomfort was due to my own anxiety, not wanting to face my part in these restrictions, or to not wanting these men to feel that i was discounting them in any way, as though they were on display for me to watch, i'm still not sure.  something about the way these individuals were made to line up in this narrow passageway seemed to portray the utter control the occupation has over the everyday functions of regular people and the sheer disruption and pain that are part of the fabric of occupation.  something else that stood out to me was the fact that this forced gathering of people was devoid of happiness and of human connection.  no one laughed, few smiled.  this in contrast to the warmth and vitality i have encountered in palestinians throughout my time here.

when we reached the bottom of the ramp, we waited for our friend iyad to arrive.   a large group of men were concentrated around the entrance to the passageway that served as the corridor to the actual checkpoint.  though a bit surprised that we had chosen to cross the checkpoint simply to see and experience it for ourselves, a few palestinians spoke to us and asked about why we were there.  i bought some tea from a man working out of a cart.  arnie took some pictures.  a woman intentionally sought me out of the crowd to speak her mind as to why so many people stood at the base of this checkpoint and why the line stood motionless.  the speed of their "processing" lays completely in the hands of the guards sitting behind glass, which prevents any type of genuine interaction to even be possible in these circumstances.

at a few minutes past 6:00 we began to reverse our steps through the checkpoint.  the hardest part was managing to get onto the ramp in the first place.  every  ten minutes or so, the line ahead of us began to shuffle forward and the crowd at the bottom began to heave and shove as though it were an organism in itself.  bodies pressed up against mine; the sensation of being squeezed beyond a natural point filled me and i fought to stay standing upright while also trying to press back against the masses in order to secure a place in line.  after a few long minutes the tightness relaxed as the empty spaces in the line were filled.  as for myself, i sighed heavily, realizing that i had barely inched forward.  once again we stood waiting.

another ten minutes or so passed and these motions were repeated.  again, my body was compressed and i closed my eyes to will myself against falling and push back.  the force of those around me made me feel as though i were being lifted from the ground.  i reached for the metal bar forming the barrier of the passageway and simply continued to push.  several minutes later i was inside the passageway though now i was being pressed up against the bars, until finally i stood of my own accord.

because i am a woman, the men stood to the side to allow me to pass alongside them and make my way to the terminal itself.  while iyad explained that this is customary of muslims, moving ahead of all of these men who had been waiting much longer than myself caused me to feel somewhat guilty in my privilege.  nevertheless we moved ahead and reached the top of the ramp only to once again stand waiting.  only a few dozen people were allowed to move through this stage of the checkpoint at a time.  eventually, the soldier in the booth motioned us to move through the revolving turnstyle and show our documents.  the moment we got past this hurdle, men began running past me.  while this was reminiscient of airport scenes, the fact that their detainment was causing them to run (or already be) late for work struck me.

back inside the building, we passed through a security screening and then lined up to move through the individual security gates.  here, each palestinian produces his i.d. and work permits; next he places his hand in a scanner to check fingerprints.  making it past this turnstyle means you have arrived on the other side.

from here iyad hired a taxi, saying that taking the bus was a bit risky in that we could very well be stopped by flying checkpoints.  the words had barely escaped his mouth when we rounded the corner to come upon such a checkpoint, equipped with three IDF wearing yellow vests over their uniforms.  bus 124 was pulled to the edge of the roadway, each palestinian once again being checked for proper documentation.  a little way down the road, a second flying checkpoint awaited a bus in order to conduct an additional search.  to avoid these delays, iyad pays the extra charges of taking a taxi to the old city.  finally we arrived at the jaffa gate.

an average of 2,500 - 3,000 palestinians pass through this checkpoint during the morning rush between 5:30 - 7:30 a.m. each day.  the process can take up to two and a half hours to complete.  a palestinian living in bethlehem has the potential of having to show his paperwork four times on his way to work in jerusalem, a distance of some five kilometers away. 

all of this could be operated much more efficiently to allow people to pass through relatively quickly and smoothly.  simply opening the closed security gates would make a world of difference.  instead, inconvenience and disregard seem to be the nature of the situation.  none of the IDF is in a hurry to get people through.  rather, everything is slow with the appearance of being orderly.

iyad made it to work today with the checkpoint taking just under an hour, something for which he seemed quite grateful.  each day for him begins with the wall and the process of being corralled through the checkpoint.  yet he arrives each day outwardly displaying a positive attitude and a sense of humor.  when i think of our lifestyle in the u.s. and the minor setbacks that cause frustration and anger and the irrational actions that all too often result, i commend these individuals for their tenacity and endurance.

freedom of movement

"i'm 26 years old and i've never been to bethlehem." -- sahid, palestinian working at ibdaa cultural center in dheisheh refugee camp

"you don't understand the freedom you have, the incredible freedom.  when i went to the united states for university, the thing that struck me was that i could get in my car and drive for 100 miles.  here, you go 10 km and you get stopped." -- rami, palestinian working at the lutheran health & wellness center

"one of the main issues is the lack of freedom of movement.  the majority of checkpoints are set up within the west bank; they are not even between palestine and israel.  there are only 14 such checkpoints, but in the west bank there are more than 100." -- israeli woman working at b'tselem, the israeli center for information for human rights in the occupied territories

"when you come to visit israel and you go to palestine, you'll pass through a checkpoint and they'll check your passport, maybe look inside your bag, and you'll think, 'it's just like at the airport; what's the big deal?'  what you don't see are the palestinians lining up at 3 o'clock in the morning to get to their job on the other side of the wall.  and what you don't see is the psychological abuse or humiliation they face each time they have to move through a checkpoint.  this is their life.  they are made to become submissive.  this is what is going on."  -- hannah, israeli woman engaged in monitoring checkpoints with machsom watch

the reality of the restrictions on palestinians' freedom of movement has had a lasting effect on me.  the wall seems to be everywhere.  it does not exist on the green line as originally proposed, but weaves in and out of the west bank, at times surrounding entire palestinian villages or securing israeli settlements.  cold and foreboding, its grey concrete stretches 25 feet into the bright blue sky.  razor wire adorns the top along various sections and it is often covered in graffiti.  it's position seems random and arbitrary from what i have seen so far, based on the bits and pieces that are disconnected from the rest, checkpoints that are no longer in use, new segments built in a different section of a town or along a bypass road that, although cutting through palestinian territory, is reserved for the use of israelis...  

i have walked through "terminals" (a new name for some of the newer, "sophisticated" checkpoints) and driven through both permanent checkpoints and flying checkpoints (random roadblocks that are put up temporarily and manned by an israeli soldier or two).  each time i pass without incident, my bus being waved through with an occasional question or two -- is everyone an american?  are there any jews on the bus? (some areas of the west bank are restricted to jews by israeli law.)  i can't help thinking my easy passage is due to the power of a u.s. passport and israeli license plates.  

i have heard countless stories of the difficulties of traveling from one place to another within the west bank or between palestine and jordan, of a trip from bethlehem to nablus taking five or six hours and requiring passage through up to seven checkpoints; from amman, jordan to bethlehem taking 10 hours (the equivalent of flying from the east coast of the u.s. to tel aviv).  and stories of the impossibility of moving between palestine and israel -- of permit  requirements to enter into jerusalem or other parts of israel from the west bank; of being told that one is unable to pass despite having permits.  our guide has a work permit to lead tours throughout israel and palestine that expires every three months.  when i asked what happens in the event he forgets to renew it on time, he laughed and said, "you don't forget to renew. every three months; i never forget."

the israeli government states that this is for security.  some israelis that i have spoken to state that this had to be done: "while it is a shame, we have no choice."  yet i can't fathom the belief that restricting an entire population's freedom of movement can in any way have positive results in the long run.  and there are a lot of people, both palestinian and israeli, who argue loud and clear that it isn't the wall that has brought increased security; rather, they point to shifts in declarations by hamas to end suicide bombings and to statistics that show decline well before the wall went up.  and there are several israelis i have met who say they fear for the future of israel, believing it is on a crash course because of its choices and actions.

despite all of this, i was surprised when a palestinian human rights worker said to me, "the wall is the best thing israel could have done for us.  finally the world is starting to pay attention to what is happening to palestinians.  finally they are saying this is not right."  perhaps he is right.  there is no denying that the wall interferes with the daily life of palestinians.  there is no denying that it is cutting up the west bank into disconnected sections.  there is no denying that the wall is strangling the palestinian economy when stores are cut off from tourists, goods cannot be transported readily, and workers cannot access jobs.

"something else is going on here..."

"you see these things and you realize, something else is going on here.  this is not about security." 

-- hannah

hannah, a 72 year old jewish israeli grandmother, speaks of the incredulousness of the bureaucracy that exists in regard to the operations of the checkpoints that litter the west bank and access to permits.  she met with our group as a representative of machsom watch (machsom is hebrew for barrier, though the group's name is generally translated as checkpoint watch).  she is one of 500 jewish israeli women (the majority of whom are her age, give or take a few years) who go out twice a day to monitor some 40 checkpoints within the west bank to observe, document, and assist with the interactions that take place between the soldiers and the palestinians.  her stories are incredible in nature, with the potential to cause us to laugh until we cry due to the ridiculous nature of it all, until we reconnect with the fact that these are not simply ludicrous stories but real life occurrences impacting real people.  

her fiery spirit and hutzpah (in the sense of her willingness to take risks for others) made me think i wouldn't want to mess with her even if i were a member of the IDF.

__________     __________     __________

"the cheese doesn't have a permit to cross"

one of hannah's stories had to do with a palestinian who delivers milk to a hospital in the west bank along with milk and cheese to some other areas.  he has been traveling the same route for numerous years, and she has gotten to know him over time.  regardless of the fact that he has a routine, the soldiers who operate the checkpoints frequently change.  so one day when he reached the first of a series of checkpoints on his way to ramallah, he faced a different soldier, who reviewed his permit that allows him to travel into these areas and his permit that allows him to take his car across the checkpoints, and was told he was not allowed to pass.  

"why not? i have the correct permits?" he asked.

the soldier replied, "you have a permit for yourself and you have a permit for your car, but the milk and cheese do not have a permit to cross."

after some time of going back and forth and involving hannah, he found another palestinian who had a specific permit for goods and began transferring all of the milk and cheese onto this man's truck.  they crossed to the other side of the checkpoint and then moved all of the milk and cheese back to his vehicle.  i should mention that this was on a summer day with the temperature in the upper 90s.

he set off and came to the next checkpoint, where he was told he could not pass and that he had to take a different route to a different checkpoint.  he did as he was told, coming to the assigned checkpoint and was told that he could not pass here; rather, he would need to return to the checkpoint from which he was just rerouted and pass there.  while these points are not all that far apart, can you imagine the complication of being shifted around this way and that for no apparent reason?  he tried to argue that the milk would spoil if he had to continue to go around and around, but to no avail.  hannah described that in her experience the israeli soldiers are never in a hurry or concerned for the time constraints of the palestinians: "they [the soldiers] are working an eight hour shift; they have all day for whatever will transpire.  there is no sense of urgency."  

eventually, he passed through one of these checkpoints and made his way to the hospital in ramallah.  he delivered the milk and continued to his next stop.  once again, he faced a checkpoint where "the cheese does not have a permit to cross."  he once again went through the trouble of transferring the goods to another man's truck to move it the 100 yards to the other side of the checkpoint and reload it in his own vehicle.

you must remember that each of these little disruptions is a major ordeal that takes a good deal of time (and sadly, you are missing hannah's elaborations and jewish idioms tossed into the story).

the story ends with the cheese going bad before reaching its final destination after an entire day to complete a transfer between towns that are less than an hour apart.

this was the mildest story she told.  

the most ludicrous was her attempt to help a family get a leg that had been amputated from an older family member to their town for burial.  it's a tradition in both the muslim and jewish faiths for body parts to be buried in the same place as the actual individual.  this fiasco required an official letter from the hospital documenting the amputation, the i.d. of the man who's leg it was, an inspection of the leg on three occasions to ensure it was a leg and not a bomb, which "stinks to high heaven" according to hannah, getting a doctor to come to the checkpoint and verify that the leg was in fact a leg of an old palestinian man and not the foot of an israeli (apparently there was an israeli who lost his foot and at one point the soldiers were convinced that this was the missing foot -- are you laughing yet?  don't forget this is real... so bizarre).  after something like eight hours, the leg continued on its journey.

the saddest story she shared was about a boy who had eye cancer who could not get to the hospital for treatment until her group intervened.  the details of this story are too many to recount here, but the father was never allowed to travel with him to the hospital for his treatment or his surgeries (he's had two) despite the fact that hannah came up with an elaborate plan to get permission for the father to accompany his son to the hospital which entailed handcuffing the father to her, using her personal car driven by someone from the israeli authorities, and ensuring that he would not bomb anything along the way... the israelis would have none of it.  eventually, permission was granted to the grandmother; she was given a one-day permit from 5:00 am to 5:00 pm to get the boy to a doctor.  the first hospital was not equipped to handle the cancer at the level to which it had progressed; the second hospital requires full payment from palestinians prior to treatment, which was an impossibility for the family; the third required that a parent, and not a grandparent, be present to grant permission for the boy to be treated.  all of this, and the rest of the story, occurred with an endless number of phone calls, extended permits, faxes, etc. etc. orchestrated by hannah to help this family deal with their child's terminal illness.

with each of her stories, hannah repeatedly stated that in her view, this occupation has nothing to do with security and that if you witness any of the realities facing palestinians, you can't help but see that something else is going on here...

teeming

i have seen so much and encountered so many different and amazing people over the course of this week that my mind is overflowing with information and i can't even begin to fully explain the plethora of emotions i have felt.  i fluctuate between hope and despair, clarity and confusion, understanding and anger, sadness and joy.  the people who are involved in working for palestinian human rights and an end to the occupation on both sides of the issue are courageous, passionate, dynamic, intelligent, articulate individuals who have dedicated themselves to something much greater than themselves.  

i hope to share snapshots of them within these posts and allow you a tiny opening into the work they are doing.  however, it once again is late after a full day with another one planned for tomorrow.  i have so much to process...

different realities

yesterday i got an email from nora that shook me up a bit and that has stayed with me: this past saturday, at some point while i was wandering around the city of bethlehem or meeting at the school or walking back from hope flowers to the town, there was a military incursion in dheishe refugee camp.  the military came in unannounced (i don't know if they are ever announced) for reasons unknown to me, and some of the palestinians resisted by throwing stones.  the israelis then responded with tear gas, rubber-coated steel bullets, and live ammunition.  eleven people, mostly youth, were injured.  nora said it was the most intense occurrence she has experienced in all of her time at the camp.  i can't help but wonder if any of the youth involved in this were the kids that i met when i was at the camp two evenings before. 

the thing that seems to have hit me is the relative normalcy that appears to exist despite the fact that these types of incidents are occurring all over the occupied territories on a regular basis.  i think it is completely possible for tourists to come to israel, visit the holy sites, including those in the west bank, and leave with little to no realization, let alone understanding, of what the reality of the situation is in this place.  the hope flowers center where i was that same afternoon is situated next to the camp; still, i had no idea that anything out of the ordinary was taking place.  it makes me wonder how many people here are oblivious to the actions of their government and what is taking place within their own country and palestine.  and of course this is linked to the same apathy and alienation that exists within my own country -- the ease of going about our day without so much as thinking about the human rights violations occurring throughout the world and in our own back yard.  just as americans are removed from the reality of what is taking place in iraq, a vast majority of the israelis seem to be removed from the reality of what is taking place in the occupied territories.  it's not that i want these incidents to disrupt the lives of everyone so that they will stand up and take notice.  no.  instead, i think that this is just a reminder to be paying attention.  to continue to stay aware of what is going on at a political level and to be more intentional in making conscientious choices so as to have more of a positive affect on the earth and the people who inhabit it.

 

journey to the other side

i have made two journeys into the west bank thus far.  the first was last week, on friday, to meet nora, a woman who volunteers at the ibdaa cultural center in dheishe refugee camp.  we were having a hard time connecting as she was involved in numerous activities for her friend's wedding, which in palestine spans three days.  i happened to get invited to the final party occurring on the third day.  because of the holy days (and therefore sporadic transportation), i hired a private palestinian taxi to take me from jerusalem into the west bank.  we bypassed the checkpoint (something that i didn't know was possible) by driving through beit jala, a suburb of sorts to bethlehem.  yazid, my driver, is an outgoing, energetic conversationalist who explained why we had to bypass our turnoff, which was blocked by a median, and do a u-turn in a dirt turnaround: the road turned into a bypass road to an israeli settlement and this was as far as palestinians were allowed to go.  i suppose the median was to prevent palestinians from bethlehem and dheishe from turning onto the bypass road.  the wall towered along the shoulder of the road that led in a direction we could not follow, and we passed through the outskirts of bethlehem.  soon we pulled into ibdaa and nora was there to greet me.  she introduced me to a slew of activists -- a woman from sweden, a film maker from berkeley, the head of the middle east children's coalition (who happens to be the person responsible for the cultural center being built), a woman who organizes delegations to the west bank, and the head of ibdaa itself.  at the wedding, i met an american jewish woman who disagrees with an israeli-only right to return policy and has created an organization called birthright unplugged, which runs programs that brings palestinian children into israel to visit their family's villages, which may have been destroyed or may have been taken over by israelis.  the children do not receive i.d. cards until they turn 16, so while adult palestinians do not have the freedom to come into israel, the children are able to do so.

as for the wedding itself, the final celebration was held in bethlehem and was for women only, along with josie and hazeed, the bride and groom; the men had a separate celebration.  the party basically consisted of excessively loud music and non-stop dancing, with older women wearing hijab lined the edges of the dance floor to watch the younger women, who danced the night away in a variety of fancy, hot dresses.  at one point, hazeed disappeared for some special ceremony with the men.  while yazid later explained this to me, i can't seem to recall the reason or ritual now.  later the men arrived, and the women scurried to cover their heads and wrap shawls over their bare shoulders.  josie and hazeed received the men and took photo

s with each of them.  next, the cake (which was fashioned in the style of an american wedding cake) was cut with a sword, ( which was more in the tradition of the arabs -- quite cool i might add).  when the festivities drew to a close, yazid returned to bring me back to jerusalem.  he wanted to hear all of the details of the evening and proceeded to tell me about his fiance, show me pictures of the traditional dress she will wear to her henna party, and invite me to his wedding, which will be held on july 26, sadly three days after i return to the u.s.

the next morning i returned to bethlehem with elizabeth (a woman engaged in middle east studies at a university in egypt) and charles (her dad).  this time we caught an arab bus (#124), which dropped us at the checkpoint.  a huge pink banner draped across the israeli side of the wall above the entry proclaimed a slogan about peace.  entering the checkpoint resembled entering a maximum security prison, with its steel doors, concrete floors, looming metal walls, and razor wire.  i pressed my passport up against the glass window of the booth in which the security guard sat and passed through the turn-style.  we then made our way out of the building and through a maze constructed of railings and fencing, eventually walking parallel to the wall, which was covered in political statements and graffiti.  at the bottom of the hill sat 

a fleet of taxis with swarms of palestinian men hoping to be hired to lead a four-hour tour of various sites for 100 shekels.  eventually we convinced one of them to simply take us to the old city of bethlehem.  still, he did his best to get us to change our minds as he pointed out various landmarks on our way into town.

we checked out a few holy sites, received a unexpected "tour" of the church of the nativity by an armenian priest who shared his experience of the 2002 siege in which the IDF surrounded the church for 40 days.  in another section of town we were invited to the roof of an olive wood shop to gain a different view of the city.  sawdust blanketed the staircase and saws and tools buzzed from with the shop.  from the top, we were afforded a wonderful view, though i mainly noticed the numerous water tanks perched on each rooftop.  i was reminded of mona's stories about needing to ration water due to the israelis controlling / cutting off the water supply to palestinians in the west bank.  

[mona is a palestinian and a physician living in denver who came in and shared her story with my students; her parents live in beit jala, and i'm hoping to meet them while i'm here.] i then ventured into the workshop and watched a handful of men hard at work, carving the very items that elisabeth and her dad were purchasing next door.

i parted ways with elizabeth and charles and caught a taxi to the hope flowers center.  they are located in a beautiful building (in a different location than the school itself) that is just about a year old.  the walls are stark and bare, and i wonder if this is due to their limited funding.  their enrollment fell dramatically after the second intifada.  no israeli children attend the school anymore, though efforts are underway to reinstate the joint programming.  when the sniper tower went up just down the hill from the school, several palestinian families withdrew their children out of fear for their safety.  the school is constantly battling the israeli government, which issued a demolition order for their cafeteria that stands too close to the separation wall that now slinks through the valley below the school (and which the israelis seem to forget they chose to build too close to the school).  after my visit, i walked back to bethlehem, a 30 minute journey that led me straight through the heart of the palestinian market, separate from the tourist shops of manger square.

when i got back to the old city, i was interested in finding someone to simply hang out with, so i kept my eye out for a friendly shop keeper who would fit the bill.  i spent nearly two hours with adnan (and his nephew alan, who has a shop a couple of doors down the street) discussing his life in bethlehem, the politics of the u.s. as they affect palestine, laughing at various random aspects of life, and discovering commonalities (we were born four months apart though we have had vastly different lives).  i eventually returned to jerusalem on bus #21, which passes through a checkpoint designed like a toll road in the states.  when we pulled up to the gate, an israeli soldier boarded the bus, collecting the i.d. cards of all the palestinians while simply examining my passport and handing it back to me.  she then exited the bus, and the driver pulled over to an island while we awaited clearance.  one of the palestinians stepped off the bus to smoke a cigarette; about 15 minutes later, he climbed back aboard, his hands filled with the i.d. cards.  the bus lurched forward as he and another man redistributed the cards to their rightful owners.  and so it goes...

after i made my way back to my hostel, i wandered out to daila, an israeli cafe serving as an activist / peace gathering place in the city center in west jerusalem.  it was quite a change from the muslim quarter of the old city, complete with a jazz trio with a guy wailing on a saxophone, a vegan meal, and a beer (i've had pretty much nothing but falafel since i arrived, though i must say it's the best falafel i've had in my life).  as i skimmed through their literature and composed a few emails, i eavesdropped on a few conversations.  here i was, sitting amidst left-swinging israelis who were involved in peace efforts and actions against the occupation.  there are so many contrasts to life here...