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...

girls with guns

yesterday (sunday) i met two israeli soldiers -- shir and donna -- boisterous, happy young women (20 and 19, respectively) eager for a photo shoot. i asked them what they think about israel's policy of conscription and, while they were not excited about joining originally (though they never considered refusing to serve), shir stated that this is "something we have to do because of 'the situation.' " she went on to say that it is necessary because there are "too many palestinians who do not want israel to exist." both girls said they like the IDF because it has allowed them to make so many wonderful friends. shir feels that the portrayal of the IDF in the western media depicts israelis as bad people and that it is spreading "lies all lies" -- "this is a beautiful country. i love her and i will do anything, anything, for her." donna was more playful about what serving in the military meant for her and spoke of her friends and the camaraderie she has with them. as she talked, it was as though she were describing a giant social club one would belong to while attending college. they seemed so young and carefree, despite the weapons slung over their shoulders.

remnants of the past

i have visited the western wall four times now, and each time the flavor of the experience has been slightly different.  my first jaunt yielded  a somewhat anti-climatic reaction.  perhaps it was the fact of having to pass through security that made the area feel a little more like a tourist destination than a holy site.  or the fact that upon emerging from the security screening, the wall and adjoining plaza that stood before me appeared much smaller than i had imagined.  strangely, it has grown just a bit in size upon each subsequent visit.  

my first visit was on thursday, one of two days during which bar mitzvahs are celebrated.  men in the customary dress of orthodox jews gather around the torah at various tables arranged near the back of the prayer section, though also scattered throughout.  the women stand on chairs, peering over the edge of the barricade separating the men from the women, singing and chanting and, to the pleasure of the youngest boys, ceremoniously throwing candy at the bar mitzvah.

all of this action occurs only on the men's portion of the wall, which takes up 2/3 of the 

total area.  the girls, on the other hand,  hold their bat mitzvahs in their synagogues.  i haven't actually made it to the wall itself, as the women's prayer section is small and crowded, often with lines of women sitting in plastic patio chairs waiting for their moment to stand at the wall and pray.

my second visit was in the evening, when i happened upon a military ritual in which a group of new recruits were taking their oath for the IDF (israeli defense forces).  while i realize that israel is a country in which there is no distinction between church and state, this combination of a military scene in front of the western wall seemed like a contrast to the inherent tenets of judaism and what the religion stands for.  standing on the rooftop of a building at the southern end of the plaza, i couldn't find words to capture the seeming oddity of these two dichotomies layered together before me.

my next visit proved to be my favorite.  the crowds were absent and a relative calm enveloped the area as individuals moved to and from the wall in personal reverence and prayer.  the simplicity of their actions created a sense of serenity in the air.

today was visit number four, and once again bar mitzvahs created much energy and action.  the more i pass through the area, the more familiar it begins to feel.  the wall has grown a bit in size each time i pass it.  one of these days i may even make my way up to the facade to see the slips of paper containing prayers wedged and crammed in the cracks between the stones.

          _______________                         _______________              

the amount of history rolled into this little city is remarkable.  simply wandering the streets causes me to be pulled into the rich fabric of a colorful tapestry that has been woven over the course of thousands of years.  of course, a plethora of tourist sites and placards  litter the area to help one navigate the "important" places.  now and then i have indulged in a tourist attraction to further steep myself in this history.  on thursday, i spent the day with a woman named Zoe, another traveler from new zealand who is currently living in sydney, austrailia, and we decided to find some sights that would help us experience the age of this place.

first was the ramparts walk, which basically entails walking along the top of the wall surrounding the old city of jerusalem.  like many of the streets, the stones have been worn to a slick shine from the countless number of people who have strolled across them over time.  each signpost declares that this or that section of the wall was constructed, destroyed, rebuilt, fortified, defended, or conquered by the ottoman turks, the crusaders, the romans, the babylonians, the syrians, the british, the jordanians, the palestinians, the israelis... i couldn't help but laugh as i tried to guess which era or whose control the next section would be attributed to.  

the ramparts offer great views of the surrounding area, both the more modern sections of jerusalem, additional churches that lie outside the city walls, and the areas that lay beyond the city.  and then i saw it for the first time: the separation wall.  

a stark gray snake winding its way over the hillside between the buildings, partitioning the land into various zones and cutting off one people from another.  it didn't matter that i knew it existed, and it didn't matter that i've seen countless pictures of it.  while the wall of the old city holds a certain historical awe, the separation wall stopped me in my tracks, making me wonder what all of this jockeying for the land is really about.  i took a deep breath and continued on.

the ramparts walk dumped us out at the dung gate (so called because at one point in time the area around the gate and near the western wall was used as the dumping grounds for the city's garbage).  here, we explored the city of david -- the location of the original city of jerusalem (formerly a canaanite settlement captured by king david about 3000 years ago).  the highlight of this site was traversing hezekiah's tunnel, a 500-meter underground tunnel built in 700 bce to divert water from the gihon spring into the city in order to prevent the enemy from knowing the location of the water source and cutting it off.  (it seems that water has always been an ongoing issue here.)  i can't imagine how they managed to chisel this wonder out of solid rock.  at first we weren't going to go through because we didn't have flashlights, but a jewish tour guide wouldn't let that happen.  somehow i became the lead person at the head of his tour group and we meandered through the tunnel, through which water continues to flow (and at one section was knee deep) and which at times shrunk to about four and a half feet high.  all in all, it took us about a half an hour to make it from one end to another.  of course, i loved every second of it.

faces of jerusalem

today is only my third full day in israel, and already i feel behind in sharing the story of my experience.  i am staying at the hebron hostel (check out the stone work of the room in the second photo on the link -- one of the many reasons i like this place; it also happens to be the actual room i'm staying in) in the middle of the muslim quarter in the old city of jerusalem.  the irony is that when i stayed in the christian quarter, i was awakened by the muslim call to prayer; now, i am awakened by the deep tones of reverberating church bells and a braying donkey.

having established a base of sorts has helped ease my somewhat rocky transition.  i have learned through experience that my "entry day" to any foreign country knocks me for a bit of a loop as i try to wrap my head around my new surroundings.  while i realize that i am simply in a different place that has regular people doing regular things, the language barrier and lack of any sense of direction somehow makes even normal activities require more brain power and therefore become more draining.  that, coupled with the fact that i've been waking up each morning around 5:30 a.m. and haven't had any caffeine until a few hours ago has made for a sometimes droopy, sometimes hazy experience.

fortunately, i woke early enough on my first day here to walk around the corridors of the old city before any of the storefronts opened.  i watched as the area transformed into a myriad of shops, the passageways shrinking as the shop keepers laid out their wares and hung items from the archways.  the many signs that hang in the middle of the corridors and landmarks i was using to mark my way became much more difficult to find as they were now hidden by merchandise.

the muslim quarter has to be my favorite section for the everyday life of the old city -- it is the most crowded by far and is teeming with activity at all hours of the day.  i could sit in a single spot for hours, simply to watch the variety of people that come by.  the souk, or market, centered around the damascus gate, spreads out along the roads leading further into the old city; the via dolorosa (latin for "way of grief"; said to be the path jesus walked to his crucifixion) cuts through it and leads to the christian quarter; and wonderful gems are to be found within it, such as the austrian hospice, the roof of which happens to be a great place to catch the sunset and whose comfy couches offer a relaxing place to take a break from the crowds.

i have had noticeably more conversations with palestinians than israelis in my initial 48 hours.  while it seems that the arab shopkeepers are simply doing their best to make a living, their statement of "welcome" along with an invitation to "come in to have a look" quickly turns into an invitation to sit down and talk, most times accompanied by a cup of nana tea (made from a large-leafed mint plant that is refreshingly spicy).  most times, the conversations turns political (how could it not?).  in my experience, palestinians have been eager to engage in conversation.  

i have met... 

a man who runs a hostel because he has not been able to get a better job within jerusalem despite holding a political science degree from an american university.  he was born in east jerusalem before the six day war and has a great deal of bitterness toward jordan (who he blames for his father's death), israel (for stealing the land of his family), and the u.s. (where he experienced racist views and actions while at school).  a line that stands out from our conversation entailed "when it comes to reaching a solution, you better put your religion on a shelf."  he showed me his palestinian refugee card and explained its significance to him: "if there ever is a peace agreement, this will grant me reparations for what my family and i have lost, and this [he holds up the tiny sheet of paper that is normally folded in two and carried in his wallet] is my hope and my only proof."  two israelis joined in our conversation -- one of whom had a clearly pro-Israeli outlook and the other who was sympathetic to the palestinian cause.  needless to say, the conversation became noticeably more heated (and more fascinating) and resulted in my being informed of an open shabbat invitation given by a rabbi at the western wall each saturday around 1:00 p.m. following kiddish that i hope to check out while i'm here.

abdul, a shop keeper who attempted to entice passersby to smell (and buy) the frankincense burning on the small table outside his shop.  he "likes americans because they speak from their heart" and said that in every day activities it is easy living with the israelis in jerusalem.  still, he shared that he sends his son to a christian school despite being muslim because he doesn't want his son to grow up only with other muslim children and developing a hatred toward israelis:  "he sees many bad things. he is good; i don't want to be sleeping and wake up to find out that he has gone and blown himself up."

adnan, a shop keeper who can correctly identify the nationality of almost every individual that walks past his store and who was arrested at the age of 15, spending five months in jail for trying to walk to school when the IDF had imposed a curfew: "someday i will make it out of here.  move to america or sweden.  there is no hope here, no future.  not one day in my life can i say i have been truly happy.  that is the occupation.  that is what it does to us."

a shop keeper who pointed out his father to me from others in the crowd and stated that his family has lived in the same house on via dolorosa just around the corner from his current storefront for the past 90 years.  he said that business is not so good because no one can come in from bethlehem, hebron, ramallah to shop and that is how he experiences the occupation.  yet "we have hope that things will change.  the wall in germany, it came down; the oppression in south africa, the apartheid, has ended.  we hope that some day, too, this will come to an end.  with god it is possible; not the israeli government, but with god."

these palestinians possess a warmth that is tangible despite their harried experiences.  they seem to be a rather tolerant people overall and go about their day in an ordinary fashion.  they still find ways to smile and are engaging storytellers.  and i have only been granted a small sliver of who they are and what they have made of this life.

welcome to israel

(written wednesday, june 11)

well, i have arrived in israel.  now that i am sitting in the confines of a rustic and unimpressive hostel in the old city, i feel as though, in many ways, my entry was uneventful, with seemingly nothing more new or unusual to tell than any experience i could describe when traveling from denver to st. louis or, more recently, washington, d.c.  and then i step back for a moment and realize that there are little nuances about my arrival that have already colored my experience...

at the passport check in the airport, i quickly discovered that israeli security isn't too pleased with ambiguous plans for one's time in israel.  while i had a destination and a purpose for my visit, i obviously was not providing them with information sufficient enough to grant me a quick wave through security.  instead, i discovered that they didn't like that i arrived alone.  they didn't like that i said i was staying for six weeks.  they didn't like that i didn't have an itinerary for the portion of my trip during which i will be traveling with a group.  they didn't like that i didn't have proof of an invitation to the holocaust conference i will be attending in july and that i said i learned about it on the internet.  i answered all of the questions at the initial passport clearance check, received a stamp and was waved through.  i thought that despite the numerous questions, all had gone smoothly.

however, i hadn't noticed the small piece of paper with a stamp of the israeli police slipped into my passport or the fact that i wasn't actually out of security yet.  at the next security point, i was pulled aside to be questioned again.  what was my intention in israel?  why had i arrived ahead of my group instead of traveling with them?  what do i do for a living?  why had i taken time off from my job to come and spend so much time in israel?  what was i giong to do for four weeks on my own?  who did i know in israel?  what were the specifics of where i would be going and what i would be doing with my group?

piercing eye contact. firm voice tone.  no gesture of kindness or welcome.  no glimmer of a smile.  these people are serious, and i noticed myself feeling anxious and under pressure, as though i were doing something wrong.  i began to feel that nervous tension one experiences when, as a child, a person in authority berates you with questions following an innocent misstep or accident and you begin to feel hot and squirmy even though you know that you haven't done anything to be worried about. my hear rate increased and soon i realized that i had glimmers of "guilt" written all over my cheeks, which had flushed a bright red.  maybe it's the point at which i am being asked the same questions two or three times yet in a slightly different manner that i worry that i will create suspicion.  i suddenly realized i would never survive a serious interrogation.  at some point, the woman ran out of things to ask, and looking unsatisfied with me but seeing no reason to delay me further, waved me on with a simple, "go."  she then stumbled a bit and said, "have a safe, enjoy, er, have a pleasant time in israel."

this interaction was soon balanced by the kindness of a man on bus 5 -- from ben gurion airport to tel aviv central bus station -- who explained to me why the bus driver told me to get off the bus on the side of the road when i expected i would be changing busses at some sort of significant terminal.  he pointed across the way, saying, "you see that green bus station?  with your same ticket, go and wait for your bus there."  across the way there stood only a small green bus stop on the adjoining highway.  i had no idea where i was, but these are the times when faith and trust kick in.  the sun was setting behind me and a warm breeze was blowing, and i stood waiting for bus 974 to pull up.

soon i was traversing east along a dry yet developed landscape, eventually entering the jerusalem central bus station.  the guard at the security check chuckled repeatedly when i handed him my bag -- a swiss army backpack with a million hidden zippers and compartments.  i shrugged an apology and wondered how many times this scene will be repeated throughout my stay.  onto another bus and i was headed to the old city.  the sights and sounds of nightlife were abundant, complete with a group of folks having a jam session / drum circle.  we were halted by a protest being held by over a dozen men and women in wheelchairs, who had blocked jaffa road.  i pulled off the bus with a couple of people, who happened to be from texas, who offered to walk me to their hostel.  that was an offer i couldn't refuse at 9:30 p.m. when my option was attempting to navigate the winding corridors of the old city on my own.  the evening was warm and pleasant, and walking toward jaffa gate along the facade of the old city walls, bottom-lit in a way that made the stone glow golden, held a certain regal splendor. 

i haven't glimpsed much of what is jerusalem, but i wait with anticipation for the sun to rise on a new day.

rerouted

(written on Wednesday, June 11)

I arrived to the airport on Tuesday with a little more than two hours to check my bag and get through security, only to discover that the first leg of my flight -- D.C. to NYC -- had been cancelled due to sever weather (despite the fact that it was clear and dry in D.C.).  I was quickly rerouted through Atlanta, putting me on a later flight to Tel Aviv.  My purposeful planning to arrive in Tel Aviv in the middle of the afternoon so I could make my way to Jerusalem and secure a place to stay was no longer my reality.  Fortunately, I tend to believe that I'll be able to make do with whatever situation comes my way, especially considering that there was nothing I could do about it.  I hunkered down in the airport and wondered how many hours it would be until I'd find myself in Israel.

I boarded my Atlanta flight and proceeded to sit at the gate -- for about two hours.  Apparently, Washington, D.C. was under siege and surrounded by hellacious storms, and we were waiting for a window out.  The crew treated us well and everyone remained in good spirits; again, what else was there to do?  We eventually took off, lifted up through some clouds and turbulence, and enjoyed a carefree flight to Atlanta.  I then boarded my flight to Tel Aviv, only to fly back north and cross over D.C. and NYC on my journey east. Rather ironic.

When we finally touched down in Israel some eleven and a half hours later, several people throughout the plane erupted in cheers.  I wondered if this were truly an expression of joy over a safe arrival or if this had simply become a tradition written into travel guides that was being preserved by those who knew of it.

navigating the internet in hebrew

i have been in jerusalem for 24 hours now and am just beginning to feel a bit settled in. i wanted to post to my blog last night, but everything continuously came up in hebrew... so i ended up writing a couple of posts on my computer instead and will copy them into the blog soon.

for now, just now that i am in a maze of winding corridors littered with arab shops filled with spices and sweets, meandering groups of religious pilgrims, and israeli soldiers. the muslim and christian quarters provide sensory overload; each time i walk down the same street, i see something i hadn't noticed before, making me think i am somewhere new and wondering if i have gotten lost. but then i just continue on, knowing i will end up somewhere familiar.

traveling companions

i began this journey on my own, crafting details of my purpose and goals as well as creating some semblance of a plan as to how i would spend my time in israel and palestine (and the budget that would fund it) into a grant proposal. when i first began to seriously consider going and the possibility of applying for a grant, i researched organizations in the u.s. that organize delegations. despite the wide array of options, from religious pilgrimages to social justice volunteerism, everything that was turning up seemed to be offered during the school year, a time that it simply wouldn't be feasible for me to take two weeks off. i then started contacting everyone i know who has some connection or interest in the region for their guidance, hoping to build a list of individuals and organizations to interact and network with while in the middle east. as it turns out, moments after sending an inquiry to the head of friends of sabeel colorado, i discovered that she would be leading a two week "fact finding" trip this summer, the dates of which perfectly aligned with my proposed arrival in israel. a second email was sent, requesting to join the trip if any spaces remained available, despite the official registration deadline having come and gone weeks before. fortunately for me, i received a prompt reply, enthusiastically welcoming me to be part of the group -- a diverse collection of folks from Colorado, Illinois, Maryland, Minnesota, Ohio, and Virginia.

this evening, those of us in the group from the denver / boulder area, got together to meet each other, go over the itinerary, and address any questions or concerns, including the dos and don'ts of navigating ben gurion airport security, pouring over maps of the places we will explore, and wondering whether or not the one american citizen among us possessing a lebanese last name will have issues getting through israeli customs. we were assured that it's much more of a hassle when leaving the country than upon entering it (something that seems contrary to my experiences in other lands and that i won't be able to fully believe until i experience it); still, it was suggested that she bring along her marriage licence, as she happens to be married to a jewish man who will be traveling with us as well. those among us include a professor of religion and ethics, a retired lutheran minister on his eleventh journey to the holy land, a professor of international studies who first went to israel at the age of 13 to celebrate his bat mitzvah in masada, a student in the ph. d. program of international studies, a woman who previously made a christian pilgrimage to the region and is returning because she was asked to come back by some of those she met along the way, and there remain about six to eight others whom i have yet to meet. i'm excited to have an array of individuals with different personalities, religious affiliations, and life experiences with whom to share (and process) a portion of my trip.

the count down begins...

over the last 48 hours, i have noticed myself fluctuating from moments of quiet anticipation about my upcoming travels in israel and palestine to sudden bouts of gut-wrenching anxiety. while i have traveled to distant lands before, something about this next great adventure feels different. my purpose? perhaps. though, as is typical, my purpose is to create a cultural experience -- to experience the places and connect with the people, to listen with intention, and to soak in the vast history by contemplating all those who have walked these roads before me -- all in order to broaden my perspective and step outside of myself for awhile. it seems surreal that seven days from today i will be casting my shadow on the hallowed grounds of jerusalem and taking in the landscape that i have only before seen captured on film.