Every Family Has a Nakba Story

There are two posts I wanted to write today. One is about the playgrounds, as I have a number of updates for you all. I continue to feel sad about the ongoing delays with these playgrounds, delays that are completely out of our control. I will write that post later, though, maybe tomorrow. The other post I wanted to write today is about all the Nakba stories I hear, literally on a daily basis.

Briefly and in the broadest strokes possible, Al-Nakba means "the catastrophe", and it refers to the systematic expulsion of Palestinians from their land by the state of Israel. There were two major waves of this expulsion, the first around 1948 at the time the state of Israel was established and the second in 1967 when, in a brief war with disastrous consequences, Israel took over even more land and began an even harsher military occupation of the little land that Palestinians had left. When you talk to or about Palestinian refugees, you will commonly hear them referred to as either 1948 refugees or 1967 refugees, meaning that they or their ancestors were displaced in either '48 or '67 (or, for some, both). However, those are not the only moments at which Palestinians have been driven from their land, as Israel continues to build illegal settlements on Palestinian land even today. But those are the two big dates to remember (and this description is about as simplified as I could possibly get).

The situation for Palestinian refugees is incredibly complex, and I don't profess to be any kind of expert on it. I don't remember the exact number of refugees that have been counted to date, but it's in the millions, as we are now into the 4th and 5th generations of descendents who have been living away from their families' land. There are Palestinian refugees in all of the surrounding countries, including Lebanon, Syria, Jordan, and Egypt, among others. There are also a lot of refugees still living within the West Bank and Gaza (but obviously not on their original land, since, by definition, they have been displaced). Refugees may live in refugee camps or they may live among the general population. They are treated very differently depending on where they are located, but they have few rights in most countries and most refugee camps tend to be underresourced, overcrowded places that offer substandard living conditions and house impoverished populations. Remember that these "camps" were originally meant to be temporary residences for refugees while they waited to be able to go home, just as should be the case with any other refugee group. They were certainly not laid out with any kind of permanence in mind.

This May will mark the 60th anniversary of the Nakba. That's 60 years that millions of people have been living as refugees, separated from their homes and land and suffering the material realities of poverty and the indignity of dehumanization at the hands of Israel and other states. As I said before, this population continues to multiply, and the original refugees now have grandchildren and great-grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren, none of whom have been allowed to reclaim (or even, in most cases, physically return to visit) the land that is rightfully theirs. Israel celebrates May 15th as its "Independence Day" (I always ask myself, independence from what exactly? But that's another story). This is akin to stating that Columbus's "discovery" of the Americas paved the way for a future of humanitarianism and progress. What does it mean, then, to celebrate a genocide by calling it a moment of "independence"? However you want to frame the issue, Israel's past and continuing policies regarding refugees are not legal according to international law, as the state of Israel does not acknowledge the refugees' right of return.

There is so much more to say about this issue, and I encourage you to read more about it (try http://www.badil.org/Refugees/refugees.htm) and to participate in Nakba commemoration events this coming spring (for Philadelphia area events, go to http://www.phillyalnakba.org/).

I say all this just to give you some historical context for the stories I have been hearing. Every family I have spent time with has a Nakba story. Families have been ripped apart by the Nakba. Just tonight, I talked to a woman who lives in Jordan as a result of being displaced in 1967. Though her daughter and grandchildren live in Jerusalem, she does not have the right to move back to Palestine, so she can only visit for brief periods. This story is not one of the extreme ones. In fact, it is rather mundane for a refugee story. But what struck me in hearing it is how often I have heard that same sort of story. The person who had to grow up in Jordan, even though his family's land was here. The person who has aunts, uncles, or cousins in Syria who cannot move back to the West Bank. The person who has never met his relatives in a camp in Lebanon. Every family has these stories, it seems.

I think most Westerners don't see that Palestinian society is very interconnected and very collectivist. Homes and land are passed down through generations, and they can represent the long-term economic sustainability of a family. Families are close-knit. Even family members that rarely, if ever, see each other may see pictures and hear stories about each other over the course of their lives until each knows the other intimately. I am not trying to essentialize a whole people here, but I think it's important to understand something of the centrality of family and community in Palestine in order to grasp the significance of these Nakba stories.

A key strategy that Zionism has used to destroy Palestinian society in order to permanently get Palestinians off of what it claims is "Jewish land" is to fracture communities, making the social and economic support systems disappear and implicitly encouraging the members of those communities to start looking elsewhere for better living situations. Splitting up families is an ingenius way to accomplish this. It's pretty amazing to watch how close those families have remained, despite such difficult obstacles.

And it's painful to hear all of their Nakba stories.

Frustrated by the Playground Delays

Just to remind you all, when we originally shipped the playgrounds to Israel, we had already gotten permission from the Israeli government to bring them in. It was not until after they arrived that we were told that we didn't actually have authorization. This was when they demanded we show them proof that the poles of the playgrounds will not be used to launch rockets. We gave them everything they asked for. And we are still waiting for that approval as PfP is forced to pay storage fees that accumulate every day that our shipping container is left in port.

Today I talked with the person who is acting as our liason with the Israeli shipping authorities, and she said that we haven't actually received any approval yet. In a previous post, I think I may have said that we got approval and are waiting for the playgrounds to arrive at the storage facility. I was clearly wrong about that. At this rate, I doubt they will arrive before I leave the country on Thursday. I am very sad about this...

However, I have great confidence in the competence of the people in charge of the installations at the two sites. Both of them really know what they are doing and they both care a great deal about how these playgrounds turn out.

This was a day of playground updates. Not only did I talk with our contacts at ANERA about the shipping problem, but I was able to get in touch with the people at Beit Anan and visit the site for the Bethlehem playground (finally!). In Beit Anan, they have finished digging 25 of the 32 holes total. They have also acquired the proper equipment to make sure the holes match the width specified in the installation manual. I am hoping they will be able to finish digging these holes in the next day or so.

Also, while in Bethlehem with Muhammed and Karam, I got to visit the site for our playground in D'heisha camp. Just in case you did not get the chance to read Susie's blog, I will give you a sense of this site, which is located in the Al-Phoenix Center (think about the notion of beings that rise from the ashes and are reborn) in the D'heisha refugee camp in Bethlehem. This center was established in 2000 and fosters community and growth among residents of the D'heisha camp (this may or may not be exactly what their mission statement says, but it's what I gleaned from my conversations with a few people there). They run some amazing programs. They have arts programs (including internationally renowned youth and adult theater troupes), educational programs for young people of all ages, programs for older residents, and programs that invest in the creation and sales of women's handicrafts, among other services to the community. It is clear to me that the playground we are donating will be well-used by the children in this 12,000-resident camp, and I know it will be well-cared for by the organization as well. I felt so optimistic after my tour of their newly constructed facilities (including a library named after Edward Said - good for them!). I took a few pictures as well...

Later, I went back to Jerusalem with Karam, and she invited me for dinner with her family. It was delicious (I'm spacing out on the name of the dish, but it was basically goat's meat mixed with rice and cooked in the cleaned out stomachs of the goats), Mostly, I really enjoyed being with her family. I feel right at home with them. Karam also beat me at about 5 games of cards!

I am soooo tired right now. I've been coming down with some kind of cold in the last few days, and I spent all day with a sneezy, runny nose. Tonight I'm just going to sleep until I wake up naturally at some point tomorrow late morning or early afternoon. Wish me luck... :)

Mundane Days in the Madness of Occupation

Yesterday was a little mundane. Thank God for that.

I hung out for most of the day on my own, and then Muhammed and I walked around Ramallah a bit to look for an Arabic cell phone for Samer. I found him a good one - thanks for your help, Muhammed! I miss Samer so much, so it is with bittersweet feelings that I think of leaving this place in a few days. I am sad to go, especially before the playgrounds get installed. But I am also so excited to finally see him on Friday! It still feels like too far away...

After buying the cell phone, Muhammed and I headed over for a delicious dinner with Kathy and her friend Raja, who we had met last Wednesday. Kathy is an awesome cook and an interesting companion. We talked for hours about the politics of Zionism and strategies for resisting it. I had a lot of fun with them!

One thing we talked about was what constitutes resistance. We all agreed that when Palestinians choose to stay here this choice is, in itself, an act of resistance against Zionism, since Zionism explicitly aims to push the Palestinians off of this land so that the land will be for Jews only. That said, I have been thinking a lot about what kinds of choices I would make if I were a Palestinian living in the West Bank, as it is a hard life here. In the 10 days I have been here, I have encountered numerous Palestinians who have expressed a desire to leave. Just the other day, Muhammed and I were hanging out and, out of nowhere, he sighed and said, "Oh, I wish I could leave this prison." And I have been approached by friends of friends here about helping them to go study in or immigrate to the U.S. One friend of Shaher's asked me if I could offer him an acceptance to a university in the U.S. He didn't know which one, and he didn't care. I felt so awful to have to tell him that I had no power to accept him to any university, but I did try to give him some tips on how to start finding an appropriate university and putting together an application. Many people here want to leave, and I can't blame them. But I wish it was different. I wish life wasn't so hard, and I wish Zionism wasn't so successful. I can't expect Palestinians to want to stick it out here, to want to resist by staying and coordinating anti-Zionist movements, but I hope for the sake of what's left of Palestine that enough people will continue to do so.

It is so strange to be here in the West Bank, just a few hours' drive from Gaza, and to know the terribleness of what is happening there. I just read this article in the Toronto Star (which, I believe, is typically a pretty Zionist newspaper - Canadians, help me out here): http://www.thestar.com/comment/article/326309

In it, there is a quote:

James Reilly, professor of Near and Middle Eastern Civilizations at the U of T [University of Toronto], sums it up this way:

"The operative assumption on the part of Palestinians is that the Israelis have inflicted so much pain on us that they deserve whatever violence we can inflict on them.

"The operative assumption on the part of Israelis is that if we hit the Palestinians hard enough and often enough, they will agree to peace on our terms."

How true this is. And peace on Israeli terms means a continued occupation of Palestinian lands and the continued oppression of Palestinian people.

In this vein, I want to share with you all that I was reading one comment in particular on a blog post from a few days ago, and I was very upset, so upset that I was ready to throw this poor computer through the window of this internet cafe. I have struggled with how to deal with this, because it was written by one of my family members (from the Jewish side of my family). I found it outright hateful and racist - it was essentially a justification for the Israeli genocide of the Palestinian people. I have trouble understanding how people can convince themselves that Israel is acting in self-defense and with restraint. And then I go back to slavery in the U.S., colonialism in Africa and North and South America, the Holocaust in Europe, apartheid in South Africa, and every other example of the racist domination of one group by another since the advent of race and capitalism. In every one of these examples, members of the dominant group were somehow able to convince themselves that what they were doing was right and "Godly", that any loss of life or abdication of freedom on the part of the oppressed group was merely necessary in order to maintain the natural order of things. And somebody will have to sacrifice, right? I held myself back from saying this a few days ago, because I felt worried about alienating people I know. Now I will say it. People who think of themselves as progressive, as anti-racist, as humanitarian and humane, are tricking themselves the second they support Zionism. How can the world take seriously their desire to fight against the oppression of, say, Black people if they cannot extend the same analysis to all examples of racist oppression?

I think that's enough for today. I'm starting to get all worked up. Now I'm off to Jerusalem, where I plan to do a bit of tourism and try to pick up some books for Susie. Tomorrow it's Bethlehem in the morning, and possibly Haifa in the afternoon/evening. I plan to be back in Ramallah by Wednesday, though, because I really want to attend a lecture about parallels between South Africa and Palestine at the Friends Center that night.

Cannot Add Pictures from Here

I can't seem to add pictures from this internet cafe, so I'll try to add pictures from somewhere else. But please keep checking back to the blog entries you have already read for pictures to appear... I have some good ones of checkpoints, soldiers shooting, stone throwing, the Beit Anan playground site, and the Dead Sea, among others.

Another Playground Delay Update

I meant to write in my last post that, because of the newest round of closures between Israel and the West Bank, I am starting to doubt that we will receive the playground shipment anytime soon.

To recap, we had initially sought permission to build two playgrounds in the West Bank this month, one in a small town called Doma and one for disabled and orphaned children in Silwad (with Maysoon's Kids). We got word that we could not get security clearance for the playground in Doma, so we chose the alternate site of Beit Anan. We thought we had clearance for playgrounds, so we shipped them and they arrived in port in Israel. However, when Susie got here, she found out that we did not have clearance for the site at Silwad, so she quickly named a new site in Bethlehem. We thought all was well, but then the Israeli authorities told her that PfP would have to prove that the poles of the playground were not going to be used as rocket launchers. So she coordinated a barrage of faxes and e-mails from the U.S. showing the specs and designs of the poles, and we finally received clearance to send the playground from the port to the ANERA storage facility in the West Bank. In the meantime, PfP incurred almost a month's worth of port storage fees. The playgrounds were sent from port about a week and a half ago, I think.

We are still waiting for them to arrive. Muhammed told me that when they cross the Green Line into the West Bank, H will get a phone call about them, and he has not yet received that call. So up until now, it seems that they are still in Israel. Unfortunately, due to the checkpoint closures and backups in the last two days, we will likely have to wait even longer than we had anticipated for the playgrounds to arrive. I just hope they will arrive before I leave this coming Thursday!

Checkpoints Rule Life in the West Bank

Thursday and Friday...

This Thursday was one of the most bizarre days yet, and I think it really typified what it's like here when things heat up politically. Muhammed and I had plans to go to a few clinics - in a small Ramallah town called Aroura and in Jericho - together, as his job for ANERA entails going to medical clinics to check that they are properly storing and using the medicine donated to them by ANERA. He has a background as a pharmacist, which gives him the power to prescribe medication in Palestine, so he knows his stuff when it comes to meds.

We started out late in the morning to Aroura and arrived at a newly constructed clinic that serves 7 different villages in the area (about 30,000 people). We met with the doctor there (yes, just one doctor for 30,000 people, though specialists come in once or twice a week as well), and, after having Muhammed inspect the medicines, he took us on a tour of the clinic. They are in the process of adding an x-ray room, a lab, and an emergency room, as well as acquiring an ambulance, and these additions will make a big difference for residents in the area, who don't live very close to a hospital. As happens everywhere you go in Palestine, we sat down with the doctor for some delicious Arabic coffee. (I swear, between the coffee and the tea, I have consumed more caffeine in a week here than I do in a typical month in Philly!) We had a really interesting conversation, and he told us more about his work at the clinic. He said that most of the cases he treats are geriatric and that, because of patients' lack of access to more specialists, he often has to diagnose more serious problems such as cancer. In those cases, he sends them to hospitals for more specific diagnoses and treatment.

We also talked about citizenship here in Palestine and in Israel, and the doctor and Muhammed clarified some points for me. We discussed the various classes of citizenship here. First, there are the Jewish Israelis, who have the most rights and privileges. Second, there are the Palestinians who have Israeli citizenship. Third, there are the Palestinians with Jerusalem IDs. Fourth are the Palestinians with West Bank IDs. And lowest on the totem pole, with the most problems and the least rights are the Palestinians in Gaza. I will not get into this in more detail right now, but I will say that I always find it interesting to hear Israel revel in its status as a democracy (as I heard an Israeli government representative do in a television interview the other night) even as it fails to recognize that not everyone in this so-called "democracy" has equal rights.

As we left Aroura, we called Karam to see if she wanted to come with us to Jericho. Since she was getting off of work at 2, we just waited for her to meet us in Ramallah so that the three of us could head off to Jericho together. Once we got together, we decided to go to the Dead Sea first so that I could finally see it (this was the one tourist thing I have been dying to do while I'm here - in fact, I think it was my friend David Miller who told me years ago how cool the Dead Sea was because you could float in it due to the high salt content, and ever since then I have wanted to see it, so thanks, Dave). The Dead Sea is not really all that far from Ramallah, and usually it should take maybe an hour to get there. However, just as we were passing Jerusalem, we ran into an insane line of traffic that reminded me of the worst of Philly rush hours. We thought maybe the traffic was because of an accident, but it turned out to be just your average checkpoint. Oh well. This delayed us about 45 minutes to an hour, and by the time we got to the Dead Sea the sun was already setting. Still, it was a beautiful sight. The Dead Sea is something like 400+ meters below sea level, and all along the way there are markings on the sides of the mountains to show you how much below sea level you are. It's pretty wierd to be below sea level. I think this is the first time I've ever actually been in a place like this. The Dead Sea is the lowest point in the world. Wow. The other really amazing thing about it is that the landscape changes drastically along the way. Suddenly, I found myself in the midst of desert. The mountains were bare rock with no green at all. The only green around was in the palm trees that grew near the sea. It was so warm there too - I did not wear a jacket at all on Thursday, even as night fell.

On our way in, we were worried that we would not be allowed to pass the checkpoints (we had to go through about 3 or 4 of them) because Muhammed does not have permission to enter Israel. If you are thinking, "But I thought the Dead Sea was in the West Bank, on the border between Palestine and Jordan", you are correct. However, Israel controls it. I guess it was just too valuable to let the Palestinians have. Luckily, the soldiers at these checkpoints did not check Muhammed's ID even once. Remember how I said all of this "security" is arbitrary? Well, case in point.

When we finally reached the place where people are allowed to enter the sea (there is a long, winding road to get there), we got out and made the trek to the water's edge. I have never seen anything like this! Salt coated the rocks near the water, forming a hard, thick crust on them. I broke off some of this salt to take home with me. The salt also gathered in the water and billowed like small clouds in front of us. I watched some people swimming, and they floated effortlessly on the sea's surface. I even dipped my fingers in the water and licked them just to taste the bitter saltiness beyond any other saltiness. Nothing can live in this sea. The salt smothers everything.

We left the Dead Sea and headed for Jericho. We were starving, as Muhammed and I had had nothing to eat all day but some kaak (sp?) in the morning and Karam hadn't eaten for a while either. All we could talk about was what we would eat when we arrived at a restaurant in Jericho. As we approached the checkpoint into Jericho, though, our hopes of eating anytime soon were completely dashed. The line of cars leading up to the checkpoint was barely moving. As we inched along, we saw one family park its car to the side of the road and get out to pray together (it was the time for evening prayer). It took us about 30 minutes just to get to the front of the line, at which point I handed our three IDs to the soldier and he told us to pull our car over to the side and wait for him. I did as instructed, then the soldier called me over to him. He told me that, as an American, I needed special authorization to go into Jericho. At first, I thought maybe this was that Jewish rule again, but I acted stupid and asked why. He said that it was for my safety. I almost laughed right there and then. Here I was, at the complete mercy of a guy with a gun, knowing that if I just said or did the wrong thing in front of him I could be detained, imprisoned, or worse, and he was telling me that going into a Palestinian city might be dangerous? What? I told him that nobody ever mentioned to me that I needed special permission to go into any city and, besides, I did not feel at all unsafe going into Jericho. I asked if he could please just give me the necessary permission here and let me pass. He said he would check. As we waited another 10 minutes or so, I heard F-16s pass overhead. Maybe this was the danger of which he was speaking - was it the IDF I should be afraid of? I also saw a rocket in the distance. This is the IDF's way of shedding light on areas they can't see in the dark. The soldier eventually came back out, gave us back our IDs, and let us pass, but the entire time we were in Jericho the sky was filled with the sound and tiny lights of F-16s crisscrossing above us.

Jericho was a happenin' place. We had a delicious dinner at a place called the Spanish Gardens, a mix of children's amusement park and outdoor restaurant. I stuffed myself with goat meat, hummus, fries, and salads. I am salivating right now just remembering this meal! (For those of you who are reading this blog mainly for political reasons, I am sorry to devote so much time to food, but if you could just taste the food here you would understand why I am obsessed.)

Yummy dinner (note the expression of starvation on Muhammed's face):

Now came the difficult part. I had to drop off Karam in Jerusalem, but since Muhammed doesn't have permission to go into Jerusalem I had to drop him off in Ramallah first, drive Karam to Jerusalem, and then go back alone to my hotel in Ramallah. On our way, Karam got a call from her mother that there had been an attack in Jerusalem and that she needed to get back into the city as soon as possible. They invited me to come stay with them, but I really couldn't, as all my stuff was in Ramallah and I had a lot of things to do the next day (mainly to update my blog). We were worried that I would not be able to get back into Ramallah, because typically after any attack on Israelis the IDF closes off the city where it happened. However, I was more likely to be able to get back in that night than the next day.

We dropped off Muhammed and headed off to Jerusalem. We waited in line at the checkpoint for about 20-25 minutes, and when we got to the front the soldiers made me step out of the car and open my trunk. I asked the soldiers if I would be allowed to return back to Ramallah tonight, and they said there would be no problem with that. Once we were inspected and allowed to pass, we encountered ridiculous traffic jams on the way to Jerusalem. There were police and soldiers everywhere, too, even in Ramallah (usually there aren't random IDF soldiers hanging out in Ramallah). Finally, I dropped off Karam at her house, turned down yet another very kind invitation from her mother to stay there, and headed back to Ramallah. And here was my mistake.

It was about 11 or 11:30 at that point, and I started not to trust my instincts about how to get back, so I pulled up next to an Israeli "service" (pronounced ser-veece - it's kind of like a group taxi service) and asked if this was the right way to go to Ramallah. The driver said yes, and I asked where I should turn next. He told me to follow him. I followed him all over, from Jewish neighborhood to Jewish neighborhood. Soon, I started to get nervous. Maybe this was some nutjob who, angry about the attack, was going to lead me into a neighborhood where I would be shot by extremists. So when we were in a public drop-off location, I pulled up next to him again and asked if this was the right direction. He hit his forehead with his palm and said that he had forgotten that I was following him. He said, "You want to go to (insert name of Jewish neighborhood that sounds like "Ramallah" here), right?" I said, "No, I want to go to Ramallah." He looked at me funny and said, "But that's an Arab place." Not wanting to be too confrontational, I just looked at him with firm eyes and said, "Yes." He said, "You want to go THERE?" And I said, "I want to go to the West Bank. To Ramallah. Can you just tell me how to go towards Bethlehem?" At that point, I figured that he'd be little help, and I didn't want to antagonize him, since I didn't feel like I could trust that he wouldn't do something bad to me in the wake of the attack that night. Finally, he just told me to follow him and turn right when he turned left. I was back on track. From then on, I only asked directions from Arabs.

I eventually got to Ramallah and called Karam and Muhammed to tell them that I was ok. I got a little lost in Ramallah, but I knew I could just ask directions back to the Manara (a circle in the center of the city) because my hotel was right up the block from there. By chance, I happened by Arafat's compound and asked directions from the Palestinian Authority (PA) soldiers in front of it. I didn't even realize where I was at first, I just saw some people who could help me. It was not until I had already rolled down my window and gotten their attention that I realized who they were. I could tell they were suspicious of me, a woman alone in Ramallah in a Jerusalem car. Who was I? Why was I there so late at night? And I could tell there were more than the usual number of PA soldiers outside of the compound. I too felt a little nervous about what Israel had planned for the West Bank... I got back to my hotel just fine, though, and I made sure everyone knew I was ok.

That night I watched Al-Jazeera's English language coverage of the attack. It was excellent. I also watched France 24's coverage, which was good but not as thorough. Before getting back to the hotel, I knew few details about what had happened in Jerusalem. But as I watched the news coverage, I started to cry. This attack will be very bad for Palestinians. When even one Israeli dies, thousands of Palestinians must pay for it. By no means do I think the attack on the seminary was a good thing, and, of course, I don't support it. However, it really scared me to see how Israeli officials talked about it. One government representative said, "This is what these people do," completely ignoring the fact that this man acted alone and not in coordination with others. He talked about how Israel is a democracy defending itself in Gaza, even when he was confronted by the interviewer with the fact that most of the roughly 150 Gazans who have been killed in the last week were civilians. As I watched this coverage, all I could think was that this situation is hopeless. How can the world expect that Israel can pound Gaza and then not think that people will want to fight back or exact revenge? It saddened me to see Palestinians celebrating this attack, but I understand why they want Israelis to see what it is like to live like them, even if on a much smaller scale. And it saddened me even more to watch the footage of Israelis calling for death to Arabs, for revenge on all Arabs for this one incident. Of course, the Israelis have closed off Jerusalem (from the West Bank) since then and are not expected to reopen the checkpoints until late tonight. And they bulldozed two houses in Bethlehem yesterday morning. And they have made checkpoints all over the West Bank even more of a nightmare. And God knows what else they've done that I haven't heard about yet...

On Friday I slept late and spent the day lazing around with Muhammed and his roommate, Muhammed (there are three Muhammeds in that apartment). I updated my blog and finally responded to e-mails, and they made a delicious m'jadara. Again, I happily ate way too much. At one point, we were looking at a photograph of Muhammed's family's land on Susie's blog, and Muhammed said to me, "All that land belongs to my family, but we can't build anything on it." I asked him why, and he explained to me that there is an Israeli settlement nearby and that the road that goes to the settlement (which is only for Israelis) runs past his land. He pointed it out in the picture. The law makes it so that they can't build anything on the land next to this road - not a house, not a tent, not even a short wall around a field.

The checkpoints, the settlements, the laws governing the use of Palestinian land... All of it reminds me of an interview I heard on the radio years ago. The person being interviewed was talking about the fallacy of the "peace" process in Israel/Palestine. In response to a question about who has control of the land since Palestinians actually inhabit most of the Occupied Territories, he said that a good metaphor for the occupation would be to think of the West Bank and Gaza as a prison. In a prison, most of the space is allotted for the prisoners, and they take up most of the space, including the cells, the cafeteria, the recreational areas, etc. The guards take up almost no space at all. The prisoners also outnumber the guards at least a few hundred to one. But who has the power, who has control of the prison? It is not the prisoners. In the West Bank and Gaza, the Israelis ultimately have all the control.

Last night I had a fitful sleep. I dreamt of checkpoints, of going back and forth across the West Bank and being refused entry everywhere I went. And the whole dream was characterized by a sense of not knowing what would happen to me. I tossed and turned, shifting positions so many times in bed, because something in me didn't feel secure. I think, though, that the dream was not really about me, it was about Palestine. Who knows what will happen here in the coming weeks and months? Who knows what Palestinians will be forced to suffer at the hands of the state of Israel in the name of "self-defense"?

Stories Galore

Tuesday...

Shaher and some of his family:

After an awesome breakfast of falafel, hummus, labaneh, zaatar, olive oil, and tea at Shaher's house, Shaher and I headed out to the Arab American University. Shaher dropped me off for a meeting with the PR people there while he went to a job interview (his position at CIDA is done at the end of the month because the project is being discontinued) in Jenin. I talked for a while with the AAU staff, and they gave me a lot of information about the university. For instance, when I asked about makeup of the student population, they said that almost all their students come from the West Bank, since it is too difficult to come from inside the Green Line (Israel). Just to put this into perspective, Jenin is literally only about 5 minutes from the Green Line, and you can actually see parts of the Wall from nearby villages. So, even though AAU might be the closest university for some students, it would take too much time and be too difficult for many of them to actually go there.

When I told the people in the AAU PR office why I was in Palestine, three of them asked me if PfP could build a playground in their respective villages. Yes, three people in the space of just an hour or so. And this has happened to me many times in the week that I have been here. Hearing these requests reminded me how important it is to do this work. I hope all our supporters around the world will note that people here really do appreciate that PfP can bring playgrounds into the lives of Palestinian children. Later that day, Shaher and I were driving through another village near Jenin and I saw a little girl swinging on a homemade swing made of two thin, black ropes and a dirty rag (the seat) tied to the roof of a broken down cinderblock structure. Imagine if that girl were swinging on a safe, sturdy plastic swing hanging from the solid frame of one of our playgrounds instead...

Back to AAU, though. When Shaher returned, we found Adel, a friend of his who teaches in the Physical Therapy program at AAU. He brought us to see a blood donation drive that had been put together at 2AM in response to the crisis in Gaza. We just happened to come in at the same time as the Governor of Jenin and the President of AAU were giving blood, and I got to meet them. I was very impressed about the turnout for such a last-minute event. The group that organized the drive got more than 120 pints of blood and was only limited by time, as the doctors had to clean up and go at a certain point. Blood drives like this have been happening all over the West Bank as Palestinians here stand in solidarity with Gazans. I hope the rest of the world can follow suit...

After the blood drive ended, we sat and talked with Adel for a while. Adel is a practicing physical therapist as well as an instructor at AAU, and he had many stories to tell me about his experiences doing physical therapy in Ramallah. I asked him what kinds of injuries he sees in his work, and he said that, by far, most of his patients are recovering from gunshot wounds. This has been a big problem in the West Bank ever since the beginning of the second intifada. I too have noticed that there are many disabled people here. Everywhere I go, I see people in wheelchairs, using walkers, or limping. And those are just the visible injuries - this does not include people with injuries to the upper body that may not be as obvious to a passer-by.

Adel also gave us a tour of AAU. This university is new - it was built only about 8 years ago - and the buildings and landscaping are really gorgeous. Like almost everything in the West Bank, it sits atop a mountain and offers a breathtaking view of the surrounding area. In almost all the parts of the West Bank that I've visited so far, the mountains are green and rocky. There are yellowish stones of all sizes everywhere, even in the agricultural fields. I've never seen such a stoney landscape in all my travels. As I look at the stones, I think how obvious it is that stones are the main weapon that Palestinians have as they fight against an occupation. There are not millions of guns or millions of dollars here, but there are millions of stones. Unfortunately, it's not such a fair fight when it's a stone against a tank or a stone against a missile launcher, is it? I don't mean to simplify the issue, as I know that Palestinian resistance movements have been able to acquire some weaponry (and I know this paragraph will trigger more antagonistic comments from my Zionist readers), but for the most part violent resistance here happens with stone in hand.

After AAU, Shaher and I went into Jenin, a small but bustling city located at the very north of the West Bank. We went into a cafe and, again, by total chance happened upon more of Shaher's friends. This time, it was three social workers, one from the Palestine Red Crescent Society (PRCS) and two from another local agency. I only had to ask them one or two questions about their work to start them going on story after story about the occupation. The PRCS social worker told me of a recent story in Gaza about a PRCS paramedic who was carrying an injured man on a stretcher. An IDF soldier shot the injured man through the head, and the bullet passed through and went into the paramedic's stomach. This story triggered another one about two women, who were carrying an injured man to safety. An IDF soldier shot the injured man 3 times to kill him off. And this is policy, it's not just two rogue soldiers going crazy. One of the other social workers told me that a common practice that he's seen is when an IDF soldier will point a gun at a Palestinian and pretend to shoot him. Behind that soldier will be one of his friends, who will shoot his gun into the air at the same time as the first soldier pretends to shoot. This is really scary for the Palestinian on the other end of the gun, who thinks he's been shot.

When I asked more about the children that these men work with in the course of their jobs as social workers, they told me that children in this area face many problems because of the occupation. First, of course, there's poverty. Many children also suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), which manifests in problems at school and at home, nightmares, and more. Many of them have seen people killed. One example of this was when a girl in a nearby village was shot in the head by an IDF bullet while sitting in class, right in front of all her classmates. They also talked about how children may drop out of school because it is too difficult to get there each day. One village in the area was actually split in half by the Wall, and a number of children lived on the side away from the school. Every day those children would have to cross through a checkpoint just to get to school, and for some this obstacle became a reason to drop out. These circumstances are not uncommon here.

I really admire the work these people do. When I hear these kinds of stories I want to cry, and I have to stop myself from tearing up right in front of the people who tell them. Sometimes I get back to my hotel room at night and just cry by myself for what I am seeing and hearing here. Why must a people suffer like this? I don't care what excuses anyone uses for Zionism, I don't care how someone may justify this occupation and the military offensive of Israel so that they may feel more comfortable killing Palestinians... This conflict is assymetrical. I know that Israelis do not feel safe, and I can sympathize with that feeling of insecurity, but Palestinians are daily dehumanized and killed by a state and by the people who support that state. The oppression of Palestinians is systematic and its causes systemic. This issue may not be black and white, but it is not an even fight either. I am consumed by such great sadness in this place, and I have trouble locating enough hope...

Shaher also took me to see a PRCS youth recreation center, where his friend is the director. It is always nice to see the happier places here. I have met so many committed people doing such great things for the health of Palestine and its people. I feel completely humbled.

Later that day, I proposed going back to Jerusalem instead of returning to Nablus, but Shaher cannot do so because his permission to go into Jerusalem (much like his car's permission to go through the Hawara checkpoint) expires at 7PM. This means that he can only be in the city of Jerusalem between 5AM and 7PM on any given day. So, after saying goodbye to his family, we went back to Nablus. Just as we were leaving Jenin, though, Shaher's car broke down. Luckily, we were right next to a gas station. The guys at the station told us the timing belt needed to be fixed, so we called a tow truck and rode in the cab of the truck all the way back to Nablus. Shaher dropped me off at his friend's sister's apartment and went back to his own apartment.

This apartment was a big surprise for me. I had expected to stay with two or three women. Instead, I encountered nine college-aged women, all but one of whom are students at Al-Najeh University (the other one doesn't actually live there, she was just visiting). We spend a fun evening giggling and talking. I fielded about a million questions about life in the U.S. and about my own experiences. I felt like a movie star - they even asked me to write them messages in their notebooks at the end of the evening. They were a wonderful bunch of young women, and what terrific hosts! I felt so welcomed and loved, and I had a great night with them. They all promised to add me to their Facebook friends. (Don't forget, girls!)

Again, I'll add pics when I get more time. For now, I'm just going to try to tackle yet another post. What am I on now, Wednesday?