Wednesday, November 23, 2011

"Are you a Jew?" (Checking Points, part III)

Updates since I last wrote: I have moved to Ramallah and begun a new internship in East Jerusalem. This means two things: 1) I am hunkering down for another half year or so in Palestine, and 2) I get to commute through Qalandia twice a day.

Qalandia is the checkpoint between Ramallah and Jerusalem. Here's how you get through:

1. Board a number 18 bus in downtown Ramallah. It will take you all the way into Jerusalem. (Recommended iPod listening: NPR's This American Life.)

2. When the bus approaches the checkpoint almost all Palestinians will get off. If you want, you can try to stay on with the elderly and the pregnant. An armed (male) Israeli soldier will board the bus and check that the remaining passengers (the elderly, the pregnant, you and Ira Glass) don't appear too threatening. He will be followed by another soldier (more often than not a bored-looking girl wearing a lot of makeup) who will check everyone's ID's. Sometimes the soldier will let you stay on the bus but normally she'll take your passport and walk away with it. This is their friendly way of asking you to get off and walk through the checkpoint like everyone else. Obey.

3. As a foreigner, you can go through the slightly shorter line of Jerusalem residents, rather than entering into the large terminal of people who have various permits to enter the city. At this point, things might get a little bit tense because, like you, everyone wants to get to work. Keeping your headphones in at this point will prevent you from having to hear the soldiers barking in Hebrew through the intercom. There's a bit of a bottleneck here, as the soldiers will only let two to three people through at a time.  Don't be afraid to get a little bit pushy. (Recommended iPod listening: The Final Countdown or Eye of the Tiger).

4. Once through, place belongings on the security belt and walk through the metal detector. Show your passport to the soldiers behind the sound and bulletproof glass. If so directed, place your passport on the scanner. When you're waved on, continue down the path and get back on your bus.

Today - I still don't know why - I set off the metal detector. Repeatedly. The roundfaced male soldier behind the glass began mouthing instructions to me. "Coffee." (I had a travel coffee mug in my hand. I put it through the security belt. It spilled a little. This is why there shouldn't be checkpoints on the way to work). Metal detector went off again. "Show me your shoes."  (New leather boots. Eat your heart out, buddy). "Belt? Belt?" It continued like this until he finally motioned for me to scan my passport.

He and his female companion peered at the screen. I saw her mouth "Mi-ller" and then look at him. He looked at me and at the screen and then at her and then at me and then the screen. I felt like I was watching an episode of Looney Toons. (Except for that I was now late for a new internship and this was holding up an entire line of people who needed to be somewhere). He motioned me to come closer and mouthed, "....Jew?"

I pretended not to have understood the question so that I could think. I cupped my hand to me ear and mouthed back, "What??" Thinking...at this moment in time...coming from Ramallah at 8:00 am on a Wednesday...is it a good or bad thing that I'm Jewish?

"Are. You. A. Jew?" You can't really dodge a question from an armed soldier for too long. So I nodded. He looked at me like I was an idiot. Then he looked back at the long line of people. "What were you doing there?" He waved his hand, encompassing...Palestine, I guess.

So now I'm standing there with two conflicting emotions. One is an urge to breathe fire. Who the hell is this guy? How dare he ask me about my religion? What's it to him if I'm Jewish or not? This is the part of me that's ripping up my bus ticket in my pocket. The other is my overwhelming desire to just get out of this. This is also the part of me that has a deepseated need to please people in a position of authority. Luckily, the second half won out. I shrugged and smiled. "Visiting." He stared. "Visiting?"

I point to my passport. Could I take it out of the scanner yet? He looked at me for another moment. Screw this. I removed the passport. He nodded and waved me on.

Back on the bus I had a two minute ride before arriving at the office, during which I realized the following: not only are Jewish-Israelis the only people here who make me feel uncomfortable for saying that I'm Jewish, but they are the only people who have ever even asked if I am.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

I'll Trade You My ______ For Your _____, or Haniya and Netanyahu Play Pokemon

In the first stage of the swap, 477 Palestinian prisoners were released from Israeli military prisons.

In the first stage of the swap, 477 Palestinian prisoners were released from Israeli military prisons and 218 returned to their homes.

In the first stage of the swap, 477 Palestinian prisoners were released from Israeli military prisons and 218 returned to their homes and 55 were released on "Security Arrangments." No one knows exactly what the Israeli military means by that (not even the prisoners to whom it applies).

In the first stage of the swap, 477 Palestinian prisoners were released from Israeli military prisons and 218 returned to their homes and 55 were released on "Security Arrangments" and 18 were "relocated" to Gaza for three years.

In the first stage of the swap, 477 Palestinian prisoners were released from Israeli military prisons and 218 returned to their homes and 55 were released on "Security Arrangments" and 18 were "relocated" to Gaza for three years and 146 were "relocated" to Gaza forever.

In the first stage of the swap, 477 Palestinian prisoners were released from Israeli military prisons and 218 returned to their homes and 55 were released on "Security Arrangments" and 18 were "relocated" to Gaza for three years and 146 were "relocated" to Gaza forever and 40 were "relocated abroad" (were exiled).


In the first stage of the swap, 477 Palestinian prisoners were released from Israeli military prisons and 218 returned to their homes and 55 were released on "Security Arrangments" and 18 were "relocated" to Gaza for three years and 146 were "relocated" to Gaza forever and 40 were "relocated abroad"and one Israeli soldier, whose namefacevoicefathermotherpainjoyfearweightlossclothesmentalhealth the whole world knows, returned to his home in the north.

Chad gadyaaaaa, chad gadya.


My neighbors prepare for their son to return from prison.

Full disclosure: I was one of the many glued to their computer screens yesterday, analyzing Gilad's every move. Why was he breathing so heavily in the (horribly botched and messy) interview in Egypt? What was the last thing his captors said to him before he was finally released? What did he say to them? Was it hateful? Loving? How did he feel about seeing his family again? What was the first thing he was going to eat when he got home? Probably some specialty that was already cooked and ready, waiting for him. Probably he was thinking about girls too. Maybe he would enroll in university now that he's out? Thinking about how happy he must be to finally be free.

Without losing any happiness for Gilad, ask yourself the same questions again 477 times over. Yesterday's was not a swap of one noble and tortured Israeli for over 1,000 cruel faceless,  Palestinian terrorists. There are thousands of real moms-dads-brothers-sisters-cousins-sons-daughters that cried just as hard as Noam Shalit when the loved one(s) they thought they would never see again reappeared on their doorstep.

So...I've actually written more, but I've deleted it. I'll stop here. The rest was turning preachy, patronizing and cringe-worthy. It would have given Aaron Sorkin's 9/11 episode of the West Wing a run for its money. I've learned that when I start directly addressing Ethan Bronner (grrr), it's time to stop writing.

So here is how I end this post. It's how I end most other posts: in an extremely unsatisfying and inarticulate manner.

THIS SWAP IS:
Good. Bad. Fine. Epic. Good for the Palestinians but not the Israelis. Good for the Israeli's but not the Palestinians. Good for the prisoners but not the peace talks. Good for Netanyahu but not Hamas. Good for Hamas but not Abu Mazen. Heart wrenching and beautiful (Palestinian and Israeli families reunited). Enraging (Netanyahu's smirk). Spooky (what happens now?). 

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Lazy Sunday

It's Sunday afternoon and I'm sitting at a cafe in the most touristy spot in downtown Bethlehem: Manger Square. Behind me is a table of young, tattooed Germans asking the waiter where they can buy a helmet for when they ride their motos. To my left are three middle aged Spaniards wearing sunhats that should be illegal and to my right is a Palestinian family. Their daughter's been sitting under the table for about three minutes now. I think she may be trying to tie her brother's shoes together. At my table is a bored-looking American girl with a cup of coffee, an unopened copy of Catch 22 and nothing better to do than write down whatever's happening around her.

Okay, I think that the Germans are actually Dutch.

The Bethlehem Peace Center is directly across the square, where they host speakers and have a spectacularly overpriced bookshop.

...the Dutch people just started speaking French so....I'm doubting that they're Dutch.

On the right side of the square is the Church of the Nativity, with its steady stream of tourists and pilgrims strolling in and out. The doorway still bears bullet holes from the siege of the church by the Israeli Army for 39 days in 2002.  I myself can say I've been kicked out on two separate occasions for talking too loudly. Both times by a monk who was dressed suspiciously like Severus Snape.

Today, the outer walls of the church have massive signs depicting a Palestinian flag emerging from the UN. Over the past day, the number of Palestinian flags around Bethlehem has skyrocketed: lining the streets, in front of shops and on almost every roof of Aida Camp.

Meanwhile, the settlers are also prepping for Abu Mazen's trip to the UN, though in a slightly more...aggressive fashion. This Tuesday, settlers will hold "sovereignty marches" from various settlements to nearby Palestinian towns and cities. The purpose being "to make it clear to the Arabs who the home owners are."

(Riddle solved. One of them is Dutch, the rest are French).

So. The settlers have announced--lest there were any doubts--that they have no qualms using live ammunition against the Palestinians.  But just in case anyone gets cold feet and doesn't want to fire live ammo, there are countless other options. They've been waking up to tear gas cannisters, stun grenades and trained attack dogs under their pillows, courtesy of the IDF fairy, for quite some time now.

The Spanish woman seems pretty cranky. Her salad is much larger than she was expecting.   I think school just let out--the square's been invaded by children.

The only thing that is certain about next week is absolutely nothing. It could lead to a huge economic downturn here. Could be a massive increase in settler violence. Could be that the weather finally starts to cool down. Could be huge Palestinian demonstrations in support of statehood. Could be that I finally get my hookah addiction under control. Could be huge Palestinian demonstrations in anger that the US flexed its veto muscle in the Security Council against them yet again. Could be the third Intifada. Could be I wash my sheets. Could be...

Thursday, September 1, 2011

Checking Points: Part Two

I was in southern Jerusalem a little after midnight on Thursday, having just had coffee with a friend visiting from Tel Aviv. She was heading downtown to find a Sherut back home, and I called my favorite Jerusalem driver, who works late and has permission to drive through the checkpoints. (Palestinian)

He picked me up and I quickly hopped into the front seat of the massive, slightly run down looking blue van, grateful to get off the rather icky intersection at which I'd so wisely chosen to wait. Chuck Berry was playing. We swung by his home to drop off a pizza he'd picked up in Hebron for his kids (who were, from the sounds of it, doing all they could to stay awake until this pizza arrived). He emerged from the house with a beige down jacket (it was a surprisingly chilly evening), tossed it onto the backseat, and we headed towards the checkpoint. Chuck Berry was done and now we were listening to "Take My Breath Away" by Berlin. (You do know it. It's the one they play in TopGun).

En route, he explained we'd have to go through the further away checkpoint, as they'd closed down the closer and more convenient one. This checkpoint always has a daytime-feel thanks to its dozens of massive floodlights. When exiting Jerusalem and entering Bethlehem through this checkpoint, there is essentially no checking of anything. Going the other way you are searched and ID's are checked, but cars are able to just drive through without stopping when heading into the West Bank. We, however, began slowing down as we approached, finally coming to a full stop. Z (the driver) honked the horn and waved to a young soldier standing on the other side of the checkpoint.

Confusion.  "Should I get out my passport?"

"What? No, no. You don't need it."

...?

The young man jogged over to the van with a grin on his face and the two men began chit chatting away in Arabic. My driver was offering the soldier the down jacket he'd brought from his house. (Celine Dion "My Heart Will Go On" was now playing). The soldier turned it down as he already had some Underarmor  on (not to mention a bullet proof vest and a automatic weapon strapped to his chest). He poked his head in and asked me where I was from, then informed me that my driver was a really great guy.  They shook hands, he jogged away again, and off we drove.

"......
.....
....
What was that?"  Best I could do at the time.

"I know him.  You know, I drive through this checkpoint all the time, I know him."

The story of their friendship:
Z was one day coming back from Bethlehem, having bought roasted chicken and some milk for dinner that night. There's a rule that milk cannot be transported from the Occupied Territories into Israel.  ("Why no milk?"  I have not even the beginnings of an idea. I'll look into it and get back to you guys). As he was driving through the checkpoint our friendly IDF soldier called him out on the dairy and a major fight ensued. Z demanded that he be allowed to bring the milk. The soldier said no, it wasn't allowed. Would this soldier really prevent Z from bringing milk to his children? The soldier said yes. Z got out of the van and threatened to dump the milk on the soldier's head.

Other soldiers, including the captain, came running. The checkpoint was closed. The captain told Z the same thing. None of the milk would cross the border. This time it was the captain who Z threatened to douse with the milk. The soldier stepped in. Really, just this once, couldn't they let the milk through?

Shockingly enough, the answer was yes. Z got his milk through to his kids, and apparently,  also gained the respect of this soldier, who liked Z's chutzpah.

"Wow. Well, good for you!  Were you guys speaking in Hebrew this whole time?" (That's me again, not really knowing how to respond to this story).

"Of course not. He's Arab from the North."

"He's Arab?  What so he volunteered?"

"I guess so.  I don't know why. But you know what, Beth it's not that I like them. I really hate them. But it's better for me this way--to be friends with them. To have trust. It's better for me, it's better for them."

Make of it what you will. It's past my bedtime.

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Audio Tour of Aida Camp, Tuesday, 7:50pm

Cheap fireworks directly below my window.  Tawjihi (basically senior year exams) results came back this weekend. Most of us foreigners spent the past few days on edge. Also, Ramadan starts next week so each day there are multiple weddings.

Somebody's listening to the BlackEyed Peas.

Bloodcurdling screams coming from a really dirty, ratty-haired teenage girl. My flatmates and I have "Saw II" on in the background. Unnhhh...somebody's getting burned in a furnace...alright. This is gross.

"Alahu akbaru"--call to prayer just started.  "Alahu akbaru" it started at another nearby mosque.  They normally begin within a minute or two of each other but not in absolute synchrony.  So it sounds almost like there's an echo, or a delay.

Another firework.

Another firework.

Silence. First part of the call to prayer is over.

Car alar--turned off.

Our fan is creaking a little too much. Kind of worrisome. We need that fan.

More screaming---this movie is messed up. (The guy in the furnace died, by the way. In case anyone was holding out hope.)  One channel down has ER on but, in a cruel twist of fate, it's dubbed in Arabic. As much as my languages skills are improving, I am not ashamed to say I haven't yet learned how to say "He needs to be intibated," "She's seizing!" or "That was supposed to be my stomach-removal procedure."

Firework.

Firework.

Firework.

Firework.  Car alarm. Firework.

Someone is shouting at some else to open their window.

Call to prayer wrap-up.

My refrigerator is doing something. Gearing up for takeoff, by the sounds of it.

Firework.

Firework.

Firework.

Firework.

Monday, July 18, 2011

Checking Points

Last week I went to Nablus and Tulkarem for field research with two co-workers. It's been hot here over the past month, but this day was...ungodly. Hair sticking to the nape of your neck, sweaty thighs, damp denim, muddy sandal soles, melting fingernails hot.

We were returning to Ramallah late in the afternoon when we pulled into an Israeli army checkpoint outside a nearby settlement.  (Checkpoints are set up within the West Bank near settlements and outposts. They're also at the entrance and exits to Area A, which are the only sections of the West Bank under total Palestinian Authority control). These days, driving through checkpoints is fairly simple.  I'd say that seven out of 10 times you're not stopped.  But sometimes shared taxis and buses are pulled over and everyone has to show their I.D. And sometimes private cars are pulled over and searched. More often than not this is random, but if someone in the car has an I.D. showing they've been in jail (a huge number of Palestinian males have been in an Israeli military prison at some point in their lives and a large portion of the children that are arrested and held are charged with throwing a stone), or raise another type of red flag, they are nabbed right then and there.  This day, the checkpoint was moving very slowly, and when we arrived, the soldiers had taken someone from their car.

A teenage boy stood next to the van in front of us, a broad-shouldered soldier was shouting at him in Hebrew and broken Arabic. Looking at the kid, at his posture, I immediately thought of the way boys in highschool used to walk when being escorted out of Boltwood by a security guard after breaking one of about 1,000 ridiculous rules they had in that Freshman cafeteria. They'd have this stupid looking swagger and slumped shoulders meant to convey that they didn't give a shit, but kind of shifty eyes that gave away the fact that they were probably worried what their moms would have to say about it.

After about two minutes of yelling at the kid, the soldier lunged towards him, grabbing the front of his shirt and yanking him in, closer. He pulled the boy towards a small, circular, single room building. It looked about big enough to fit three grown men, had one door and frosted, dirty windows. The soldier released the boys t-shirt and shoved him in the chest, pushing him towards the door.

Any veneer of cool or calm the kid had managed to convey earlier vanished. His body tensed, he tripped a bit, and he began shouting. He even backed away from the soldier, away from the door and back towards the cars a bit. The soldier didn't move, he simply looked at him, one hand holding the door open, the other resting lightly on the automatic weapon strapped across his chest. The boy moved forward, and as soon as he was within reach of the soldier, was shoved inside by the back of his neck. Another soldier moved towards the room and closed the door.  We looked at the windows and could see the silhouettes of the two people inside, their faces about one inch away from each other.  Then a scrawny looking soldier, face tomato-red from the sun, waved us forward and we drove back to Ramallah.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Tamimi's Court Statement

Bassem Tamimi, the coordinator of the Popular Committee of Nabi Saleh, appeared in Israeli military court on Sunday after being arrested one month ago for his role as a non-violent activist organizing Friday demonstrations in the village. Nabi Saleh is a major clash point between Palestinian activists and the Israeli army. According to Ma'an News Network, "Since protests began in Nabi Saleh in December 2009, Israeli forces have detained 71 residents, around 10 percent of the entire village." A large portion of those detained are children. (One such detention, of an 11-year-old-boy can be seen in a video taken by a resident of Nabi Saleh given a camera by B'Tselem).


In court on Sunday, Tamimi gave a truly inspiring speech. The judge did not allow him to finish issuing his statement in court:

Your Honor,
I hold this speech out of belief in peace, justice, freedom, the right to live in dignity, and out of respect for free thought in the absence of Just Laws.
Every time I am called to appear before your courts, I become nervous and afraid. Eighteen years ago, my sister was killed by in a courtroom such as this, by a staff member. In my lifetime, I have been nine times imprisoned for an overall of almost 3 years, though I was never charged or convicted. During my imprisonment, I was paralyzed as a result of torture by your investigators. My wife was detained, my children were wounded, my land was stolen by settlers, and now my house is slated for demolition.
I was born at the same time as the Occupation and have been living under its inherent inhumanity, inequality, racism and lack of freedom ever since. Yet, despite all this, my belief in human values and the need for peace in this land have never been shaken. Suffering and oppression did not fill my heart with hatred for anyone, nor did they kindle feelings of revenge. To the contrary, they reinforced my belief in peace and national standing as an adequate response to the inhumanity of Occupation.
International law guarantees the right of occupied people to resist Occupation. In practicing my right, I have called for and organized peaceful popular demonstrations against the Occupation, settler attacks and the theft of more than half of the land of my village, Nabi Saleh, where the graves of my ancestors have lain since time immemorial.
I organized these peaceful demonstrations in order to defend our land and our people. I do not know if my actions violate your Occupation laws. As far as I am concerned, these laws do not apply to me and are devoid of meaning. Having been enacted by Occupation authorities, I reject them and cannot recognize their validity.
Despite claiming to be the only democracy in the Middle East you are trying me under military laws which lack any legitimacy; laws that are enacted by authorities that I have not elected and do not represent me. I am accused of organizing peaceful civil demonstrations that have no military aspects and are legal under international law.
We have the right to express our rejection of Occupation in all of its forms; to defend our freedom and dignity as a people and to seek justice and peace in our land in order to protect our children and secure their future.
The civil nature of our actions is the light that will overcome the darkness of the Occupation, bringing a dawn of freedom that will warm the cold wrists in chains, sweep despair from the soul and end decades of oppression.
These actions are what will expose the true face of the Occupation, where soldiers point their guns at a woman walking to her fields or at checkpoints; at a child who wants to drink from the sweet water of his ancestors’ fabled spring; against an old man who wants to sit in the shade of an olive tree, once mother to him, now burnt by settlers.
We have exhausted all possible actions to stop attacks by settlers, who refuse to adhere to your courts’ decisions, which time and again have confirmed that we are the owners of the land, ordering the removal of the fence erected by them.
Each time we tried to approach our land, implementing these decisions, we were attacked by settlers, who prevented us from reaching it as if it were their own.
Our demonstrations are in protest of injustice. We work hand in hand with Israeli and international activists who believe, like us, that had it not been for the Occupation, we could all live in peace on this land. I do not know which laws are upheld by generals who are inhibited by fear and insecurity, nor do I know their thoughts on the civil resistance of women, children and old men who carry hope and olive branches. But I know what justice and reason are. Land theft and tree-burning is unjust. Violent repression of our demonstrations and protests and your detention camps are not evidence of the illegality of our actions. It is unfair to be tryed under a law forced upon us. I know that I have rights and my actions are just.
The military prosecutor accuses me of inciting the protesters to throw stones at the soldiers. This is not true. What incites protesters to throw stones is the sound of bullets, the Occupation’s bulldozers as they destroy the land, the smell of teargas and the smoke coming from burnt houses. I did not incite anyone to throw stones, but I am not responsible for the security of your soldiers who invade my village and attack my people with all the weapons of death and the equipment of terror.
These demonstrations that I organize have had a positive influence over my beliefs; they allowed me to see people from the other side who believe in peace and share my struggle for freedom. Those freedom fighters have rid their conscious from the Occupation and put their hands in ours in peaceful demonstrations against our common enemy, the Occupation. They have become friends, sisters and brothers. We fight together for a better future for our children and theirs.
If released by the judge will I be convinced thereby that justice still prevails in your courts? Regardless of how just or unjust this ruling will be, and despite all your racist and inhumane practices and Occupation, we will continue to believe in peace, justice and human values. We will still raise our children to love; love the land and the people without discrimination of race, religion or ethnicity; embodying thus the message of the Messenger of Peace, Jesus Christ, who urged us to “love our enemy.” With love and justice, we make peace and build the future.

Thursday, June 2, 2011

Where has Thomas Friedman been on Friday after Prayers?

Thomas Friedman wrote a piece for the New York Times last week, "Lessons From Tahrir Square" calling upon Palestinians to begin holding non-violent demonstrations on Fridays and to march towards Jerusalem. Friedman seems to have somehow missed that this is exactly what has been happening in the West Bank for years. While it wasn't published by the NYT, the response letter by Joseph Dana in +972 does a good job of pointing this out.

Sunday, May 29, 2011

Chain of Thoughts

Well.  Apparently it gets really hot in the Middle East right around this time of year. Who knew.


There's been a huge gap between my last post and this one, due largely to the fact that so much has been happening that I wasn't sure where to begin. As the big revelation or understanding that I've been waiting for has yet to come...I'm just gonna go for it.


Hebron
At the beginning of the month, I made my first trip to Hebron to attend an Israeli-Palestinian conference.  Myself and a few friends ducked out after lunch in order to see the rest of the city.

So here's the thing: Everything I saw I was expecting to see and everything I heard I was expecting to hear. Store shops welded shut, fencing above areas of the market (those areas that have managed to remain open) littered with glass bottles, rocks and trash that have been hurled by settlers, Palestinian children blinded by acid thrown in their faces, routes to schools cut off by settler homes, Palestinian homes that have been burnt or otherwise damaged by settlers...

In truth I didn't imagine that Hebron would affect me in any great way. I went knowing the situation there and I suppose I'd grown cocky and fancied myself an expert on....who even knows what. Suffering in general? Regardless, Hebron was a nice, smart, smack in the face. Perhaps more of a punch in the face because it just really (for lack of a better term) sucks to be Jewish and see Hebron. 

H2 is the area of Hebron in which about 500 settlers live amongst thousands of Palestinians.  The army controls the area, and there are massive restrictions on movement for Palestinians. The main road, where there were once bustling storefronts now feels like an eerie ghost town. Kind of like the Wild West but minus the moonshine. The welded shut storefronts are graffitied with stars of David, menorahs, and I swear to you I saw a dreidle.  I suppose its really these things that got me the most upset. For me, a menorah has never meant anything but eight days of presents coming my way. Full stop. A dreidle means I'm about to win a lot of chocolate off of my younger brother. These are not symbols meant to be acts of aggression, theft, oppression and occupation.  And seeing a star of David spray painted onto a destroyed store front brings up very specific images of the past. Images that should be strong enough to make the settler who spray painted them take a step. back. and. think.

Nakba Day

May 15 was the 63rd anniversary of the Nakba. This year, rather than being a day of commemoration, it was a day of action. Nonviolent civil disobedience demonstrations took place across Palestine and its borders. A man from Syria made it all the way to Tel Aviv! Almost all of these demonstrations quickly turned into clashes when the Israeli army responded with tear gas, sound grenades, and in some cases rubber bullets and live ammunition in order to disperse the crowds.
Tear gas

Soldier and Palestinian activist at Nakba weekend demonstration
I spent the first few hours of Nakba Day at a demonstration, and the last 10 hours being detained by the Israeli Army at a military compound in Jerusalem.  Myself and a few other internationals with whom I was arrested were actually preparing to leave the village when the army entered the area (we were now far from the clash point where the demonstration began), threw tear gas into the streets, entered homes and arrested everyone they thought might have been at the demonstration. We were arrested while sitting on a curb, and we were not charged with anything for the first nine hours. In the end we were released, though the Palestinian activists who'd been taken from the same demonstration were held for two more nights.


For more information please see...
I've received some requests from family and friends for good sources for information on Israel and Palestine. Here are a few of many.


Breaking the Silence--in addition to other incredible reports and events, they've launched a video project or short clips of interviews with soldiers.


DCI-Palestine--has a new website!  (That I've personally watched my supervisor slave over). Amongst a lot of other great information, there are monthly bulletins with case studies of settler violence and detentions against children.


B'Tselem--is an Israeli organization that reports on human rights violations in the occupied territories.  They also have great reports etc but I think one of the most powerful things that they do is their camera distribution project.  They have provided cameras to Palestinians living in clash point areas so that they can document what is happening.


BADIL Resource Center for Palestinian and Refugee Rights -- has very good background/historical information as well as new publications.

Friday, April 29, 2011

In The Days Before May

Did you read the news on Wednesday?  If so, than you'll know the reason behind what happened in Aida Camp Wednesday night.  Shouting, cheering, and a mass of shabab (young dudes) chanting, marching and weaving through the narrow streets of Aida.

That's right: Barcelona beat Real 2-0.

Ah, sorry, did you think it was about the epic unity deal made between Fatah and Hamas? Silly.

The reconciliation: its incredible to see it happen after months of unity demonstrations and sad, seemingly abandoned Unity Tents in downtown Bethlehem and Ramallah.  It's also incredible, and not remotely surprising to see that before one could even ask, "Hmm....I wonder what Israel thinks?" Netanyahu issued an ultimatum: Peace with Israel vs. Peace with Hamas.

Assuming this is another step towards a Palestinian state in September, questions arise as to what such a state would look like. (I suppose they don't ''arise'' persay, as many have been around since 1948 or so).  It would almost certainly be an end to the Right of Return for Palestinian refugees.  It would mean further border disputes--will Israel let Palestine control its own borders with neighboring Arab countries?  And what about those pesky 500,000 settlers? But okay, I'm saying nothing new or exciting now. We all know about these problems.  They've been brought up so many times they just seem to roll off the tongue...If you're looking for a nice, concise article about what this means (or what this maybecouldpossiblypotentially mean) here is a suggestion from +972.

Daily life: The past few weeks have been entirely exhausting and great.  A little while back I went with a friend to Jenin and
was invited to return and stay with a family we met there for their neice's wedding.  Two weekends ago I took them up on that invitation and spent two nights with Jamal, Hiba, Khaled, Raya, Aya, Ahmed, Yara, and their entire extended family.  Aside from the fact that my head almost exploded from Arabic overload, the weekend was fantastic. Jenin is so different from Bethlehem: the family was rather conservative and I saw no other foreigners while there (though that could also be because I spent the entire time in homes, not in the town).  I learned a lot about Arabic dancing (like the fact that I can't do it), got Henna-fied, and was heavily educated on Islam.  I also had time to discuss Juliano Mer Khamis with Jamal, the father of the family, which was very interesting.  Jamal was very upset by Juliano's death but was also very relieved I hadn't been to the Freedom Theater which he thought was a terrible place.  When asked why he felt that way he didn't elaborate much, saying just that the plays were inappropriate for Jenin.

Last weekend I went for two nights and three days to Jordan.  About 24 hours of that time was spent getting to or through border crossings.  But it was worth it to visit friends and bask in nostalgia for a simpler study abroad time filled with Jordanian babies and camel spiders.

Easter came and went in the little town of Bethlehem with holy fire driving through its streets.  After visiting the Nativity Church, I spent the rest of the afternoon enjoying our recently purchased Argileh.  (One of the co-owners will soon be screening a documentary that will definitely interest those of you who have or are considering volunteering abroad, and it can be watched online HERE.)

I've also moved to a different apartment.  The spacious guesthouse I was previously living in with only two other people became home to nine Frenchies overnight and I said...non.  I am approximately 65 seconds from my old place, still in Aida Camp, and now with a new and improved view of the wall.  I can show you said view by shamelessly taking a photo from my more photo-capable friend's blog (who happened to also live in this flat until his recent departure for Montana).



I've recently received The Yacoubian Building from the family back home, and the rooftop calls to me so that's all for now!

Sunday, April 17, 2011

JSNAP Exodus Fun

Passover and Easter did a fantastic job of sneaking up out of nowhere this year.  I know there are a lot of Hagaddah supplements out there in this crazy world, but I've got the one you should use.  It comes from Jewish Solidarity with Native American People (JSNAP).  Having planned three Passovers with the leader of JSNAP, Elise Goldin, I can say without a doubt that her Hagaddah is going to be the way to go this holiday season.  Here's a bit of the group's background, as described on its Facebook page.

In recognition of the repeated injustices towards first nations people, we as Jews come together to stand in solidarity with first nations people to support native land rights. From forced removal to the continuous theft of sacred places, we recognize the history of US genocidal practices continued racism towards native peoples.

JSNAP was born out of a call from a friend and peacewalk partner of Rabbi Lynn Gottlieb, Chief Tom Dostou of Wabanaki People. Tom call on us to join the resistance against the construction of a 4 lane highway and housing complex in Turtle Island (also known as the South March Highlands). This highway would not only destroy a sacred site for the Algonquin People but also devastate a unique ecologically diverse forest.

William Commanda, an Algonquian elder and founder of Circle of Nations, writes:
“I together with many others again urge City Council to initiate an immediate and comprehensive archaeological survey of this site; I believe it is the underlying responsibility of the crown and governments and the National Capital Commission to safeguard this ecologically and archaeologically unique site of the South March Highlands as a potential national heritage site, one of significant Indigenous importance, and as an Algonquin in the unceded, unconquered and unsurrendered Ottawa River Watershed, I add my voice to the call for such action.”

As Jews of conscience, we also want to add our voices to such action and stand with the Algonquin people against the construction of the highway
 So here it is: the first ever JSNAP Hagaddah supplement.  As most of you know, my internet skills are limited, so I hope this link works.  If not, please let me know and I'll...get someone else to fix it for me.  Also, there is a much more beautiful and illustrated version of the Hagaddah that I would be more than happy to send to anyone who wants it.  But I don't know how to post a Microsoft Word document.  
Chag Sameach!

Saturday, April 9, 2011

Nutshells

In a recent conversation with friends, I briefly mentioned that I was still trying to reconcile myself to the fact that I was "a blogger."  That I would sometimes mention "my blog" in day to day conversations.  That each experience was filed away as "blogworthy" or "unblogworthy."  It was then brought to my attention that if you only blog once a month...you're not really a blogger.  My 57 year old father then informed me I don't even use the terminology of the blogworld (oops...blogosphere?) correctly, as I've been saying "new blog" instead of "new post."  So I've been relabeled as either a lazy-blogger, an inept-blogger or, perhaps, just somebody who sometimes writes stuff on the Interweb. 

To refocus the tone of the blog, from the slightly ranty nature it took on in the past post, I've got some new personal information to update: I've wrapped up my English classes at Alrowwad Center (the pictures are of my last kindergarten class) and just finished my first week at a new internship at Defence for Children International. The office is in Ramallah, which means that Monday through Thursday I commute from Bethlehem through Wadi Nar.  Wadi Nar translates to Hell Valley, named for its rather thrilling twists and turns.  It's manageable though, as I've made an aces On The Go Playlist.  An hour goes by rather quickly when you're hanging out with Van Morrison, Toots and the Maytals, the Talking Heads, and the Spanish version of "You've Got A Friend In Me" from Toy Story 3.  DCI is really great so far.  I'll be working on some very exciting reports, learning a lot, and meeting truly impressive people.  My main project will be writing report on the recruitment of Palestinian children into the armed conflict. 

Last Saturday I ventured outside of Bethlehem with a friend on a day trip to Jenin, an incredibly beautiful city.  We arrived without a schedule but got a couple of kids from Jenin Camp to show us a great view of the city from a nearby hill, heard some stories about Jenin's role in the second Intifada, saw the Jenin Freedom Theater, and were invited over to a family's house for coffee (which turned into tea, bread, french fries, more tea, a bit more coffee, some sliced tomato and a glass of Sprite. The ride home was a bladder test for both of us).  This week, unfortunately, Jenin has taken a sharp turn.  Two days after our visit, the director of the Jenin Freedom Theater, Juliano Mer Khamis, a Palestinian-Israeli man (the son of the woman, Arna, who began the theater) was shot and killed.  It is still unclear who committed the crime.  Regardless, it was an incredible loss.  In his blog, Shalom Rav, Rabbi Brant Rosen has written some beautiful words about Juliano Mer Khamis, and has a link to a documentary about the theater and Arna.

More concerning developments are coming out of Gaza each day as Israeli airstrikes continue.  The nine strikes on Friday alone brought the count of those killed between just Thursday and Friday to 14.  Some of these are thought to be Hamas militants, while others have been confirmed as civilians: a mother and daughter, an elderly man, and two other unidentified men.  There have also been claims that the army is using white phosphorus again.

In the continuing investigation of the Itamar murders, the army has conducted its fourth major raid of the village of Awarta, outside of Nablus.  According to Ma'an, this last raid was conducted just after midnight, and lead to the arrests of over 100 women, some of whom were in their 60s.  Night time raids that lead to the detention of boys and men is shockingly common in the West Bank, and I've almost become used to hearing such stories.  But hearing of the detention of women is much more unusual.  When I've asked peole why they think this occurred, most believe the women will be interrogated about the actions of their husbands and sons. 

That is life here right now is an extremely tiny nutshell.  Yella, bye

Friday, March 25, 2011

'usbu3 al-busl

I made a mistake.  I wanted to see what the American press had to say about the events of the past week, and I looked at CNN.  "What were you thinking?!"  I can hear you asking.  I don't know.  It's been raining here and maybe the weather funkified my common sense.  Regardless, once the article ended and I awoke from my rage induced blackout, I guess I was hungry for more pain.  So off to the New York Times I went.  Whoops.  Eventually I convinced the kids sitting around me in the computer lab that they didn't need to worry about the foam coming out of my mouth, that I was fine but that a kleenex would be greatly appreciated.

If you were also reading CNN and the NYT, then you know that 59 year Mary Jane Gardner, a British woman, was killed by a bomb that went off at the Jerusalem bus station on Wednesday and left 30 others injured.  And that Obama immediately called up Netanyahu to express his condolences and that he "reaffirmed the United States' unwavering commitment to Israel's security."  The details of the bombing are described in great detail.  There is also some talk of Israel responding to an increase in violence by Hamas out of Gaza and of some "stray mortar fire" killing four civilians.  And that the bomb comes as one of the first moments of violence in a relative run of peace.

Here's more, largely from Ma'an, a Palestinian run news agency operating out of the West Bank, and only glazed over by the aforementioned outlets.  On Tuesday, IDF airstrikes into Gaza, in response to an increase of rockets coming out of Gaza, killed eight people.  One of the morning attacks (the third of the morning of attacks) struck outside of a home in the north, where a family was playing soccer, killing Muhammad Jihad Al-Hilu (11), Yasser Ahed Al-Hilu (16), Muhammad Saber Harara (20) and Yasser Hamer Al-Hilu (50).  Dozens have been injured in further airstrikes both before and after Tuesday.  There are reports that Tzipi Livni has called for another Operation Cast Lead.


Also out of Israel over the past few days is the Nakba Bill.  This allows Israel to deny funding to any organiztion that questions its existence as a Jewish state.  The bill disallows any activity "which would entail undermining the foundations of the state and contradict its values."   This, of course, directly targets Arab organizations within Israel.  Institutions that take part in activities that question Israel's status as a Jewish state, such as commemorating 1948 as the Nakba (the Catastrophe) rather than Independence, are at risk for having their funding revoked.

This is what might be called an 'usbu3 al-busl.  An onion week.

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Itamar

Most of you are already aware of the murder of 5 Israeli settlers in Itamar last Saturday.  It was a truly terrible crime, and one that is now having widespread ramifications.  There remains some doubt as to who is responsible for the killings, an Israeli or Palestinian, though Israel seems confident it was the latter.  The IDF has begun rounding up of dozens of Palestinian men around the Nablus area and imposed a curfew on the nearby village of Awarta.  Settler violence towards Palestinians has increased across the West Bank: hurling rocks and molotov cocktails at cars, burning Palestinian property, and knife attacks.


Prime Minister Netanyahu, on the Itamar killings (March 12, 2011):
"I have noticed that several countries that always hasten to the UN Security Council in order to condemn Israel, the state of the Jews, for planning a house in some locality, or for laying some tiles somewhere have been dilatory in sharply condeming the murder of Jewish infants.  I expect them to issue such condemnations immediately, without balances, without understandings, without justifications. There is no justification and there can be neither excuse nor forgiveness for the murder of children."

The Itamar killings were horrific.  But such remarks by Israeli officials, and the rapidfire condemnations of the killings by Clinton and Obama is mindboggling.  Netanyahu's reference to settlements (and the simultaneous bulldozing of Palestinian homes) as "planning a house in some locality" is infuriating, as is the fact that his government has announced plans for "laying some tiles" in 500 new spots across Palestine.  


I can easily agree with Netanyahu, that there is absolutely no excuse and no forgiveness for murdering children.  So what of the Palestinian children who have been killed, been orphaned, been taken from their homes in the middle of the night?  The Itamar killings are not an isolated incident of violence.  They have a context.  Not a context that could ever begin to excuse such an act, but a context that cannot be ignored.  Violence against children in the West Bank is not unusual.  Itamar was another episode of daily terror and violence.  But more people seemed to tune in this time.




Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Chilean Presidents, Occupied Apartment Buildings, and Manicures

This whole blogging thing is turning out to be kind of exciting.  I find myself getting the same rush from a "new comment" notification as from a wallpost on Facebook.  If I had known that would be the case, I would have embraced this years ago.

The past few days have been pretty eventful.  Three days ago, President Sebastian Pinera (the very same Pinera of the Chilean Miners fiasco fame) visited Aida.  Shop fronts were repainted, the Chilean flag was hung from the streets, and my Spanish was suddenly more important than my Arabic as Alrowwad Center prepared to greet him.  The children put on a Dabka show for him, his wife, and about 25 of his closest travelling buddies.  The Chilean TV reporters were pretty fascinated by the women wearing the headscarves and seemed to only film them.  Which did not go unnoticed by the women themselves.   After the show, Pinera spoke (in English) about the beauty that outweighs the ugliness in Palestine, and called for an end to the Occupation.  All in all, the event was lovely but pretty quick, considering the preparation that went into it.  The kids who danced, many of whom are my English students, seemed thoroughly unimpressed by their audience.  Perhaps not so shocking considering they've performed for the Pope.

Two days ago, I was invited to the home of one of the Kindergarten teachers.  She lives in one of the higher buildings in Aida camp, which is a three story apartment building.  A lovely home, with an incredible view of the camp, the wall, and beyond.  While we were enjoying the view, a few fireworks went off below us, and music began blasting from one of the houses.  The son of the family living in the home was returning from an Israeli prison after three and a half years.  He was first arrested when he was 16 years old, and was held without ever having a trial.  This is the case for most of the Palestinian children arrested.

Later, over a cup of coffee, and while looking at wedding photos, I learned that one of the reasons the building was so nice now was because it was recently rebuilt.  During the Second Intifada, the Israeli Army occupied the apartment building.  The aforementioned incredible view was an asset to them, and all of the families living in the apartment building (42 people) were forced into one flat on the first floor for 15 days, and then again later for 40 days.  Once the Army was done with the building, they shelled it.

I also learned that  many Arab countries have banned Arabic Al Jazeera.  Many people can still find it, but its usual channel has been cut off, and you have to constantly search for it.  (Much like PotterWatch...)  The thought behind this is that Al Jazeera is riling people up, and increasing these "days of rage."

At the risk of giving you whiplash, here are the other things that have happend over the past few days: a staff member turned 24 and we gave her a ridiculously lovely surprise party on the top of a mountain in Beit Sahour.  I finally have roomates.  My kindergarten students know that in the "summer" the weather is "hot hot hot."  My older students have learned how to say "evil magic" and "dwarves" thanks to an abridged version of Snow White.  And I got a truly horrible manicure from a five year old.

At least five different people have warned me to be careful because it might snow tomorrow.

Friday, March 4, 2011

Blog The First

Disclaimer: I have never blogged before.  Various levels of patience may be required of the reader.

Well.  Now that we've got that out of the way.  As most of you who will be reading this are already aware, I am currently living and volunteering at Aida Refugee Camp in Bethlehem.  I am teaching English at Alrowwad Center, a truly incredible theater, dance, and arts youth center in the middle of the camp. http://www.alrowwad-acts.ps/  (Here's hoping you can click on that link...remember when I mentioned patience?)  I have been here for almost one month now, and will remain at Alrowwad for about another month.  I am hoping to stay in Palestine much longer though, and am looking for work in refugee rights, alternative information centers, and the like.

The title of the blog, Ya3ni, is the arabic word for "I mean..."  It is often abused in the same way "like" is within the US.  Though ya3ni is used by one and all, not just teenage girls.  Since it is the word I most often use in Arabic--the word that pops out while I am racking my brains to figure out how to say what I am actually trying to say--it seemed an appropriate title for my blog.

Aida Camp is just on the outskirts of Bethlehem.  It was created after 1948, and a good majority of its inhabitants are descendents of family members who came over at that time.  Some, after 1967.  The population of the camp is estimated between about 3,500 and 4,000.  Everyone in the camp has refugee status. There are schools here that are run by UNRWA, but many children go to public schools in Bethlehem.

The camp feels sometwhat like an overcrowded small town.  Everyone knows eachother and I find it nearly impossible to walk anywhere without running into people I know.  However, the separation wall, which looms large against the edge of the camp, and the military watch towers, prevent one from falling too deeply into any sense of Pleasantville.  There have not been any serious clashes at Aida for a while now  I have not seen any soldiers withing the camp itself, but the military is a continuing presence and have heard about several recent small incidents.  In addition, there are reports of night time raids by soldiers in houses in Aida, and even more so in cities and villages throughout the West Bank.

Every once in a while I will find myself forgetting exactly where I am--falling into the excitement of travel etc.  This is almost always put into the larger perspective by a simple conversation with a friend or new aquanitaince.  Such conversations can start anywhere, but almost inevitably come to politics, or some truly horrifying experience.  What is most startling is how everyone here has these experiences.  A mother killed in a grenade blast that came without warning, a brother who has been detained in Gaza for the past 7 years, a teenage neighbor who was taken away by soldiers in the night and has not yet been heard from, a brother who was killed in a clash only months before his son--now standing before me--was born.  To name a few.  These paralyzing stories seem almost incomprehensible to me, especially as they so often come out in casual conversations.

Then, of course, there are the day to day inconveniences.  Though the checkpoint is open 24/7 to internationals, that is not the case for those travelling to Jerusalem with a work permit.  People who live in Bethlehem and work in Jerusalem begin lining up at the checkpoint every morning at around 2am, waiting for the checkpoint to open around 5 or 6am.  It is very difficult to plan ahead, as everything can be (and often is) put on hold for hours because of unforseen delays at checkpoints, or random checks, etc.  This does not apply to within Bethlehem itself, but rather to travel within the West Bank on the whole, or to outside of the West Bank.  There are many university students here who often have trouble reaching their classes in other cities on time, as they are held up and searched by soldiers.  It was hard enough for me to drag myself from the dorm room to the PoliSci building at Macalester.  Searches such as these, on students and people going to work, make every aspect of daily life difficult.

I do not want to get too far in on my first posting.  These are my first impressions of life here, and 4 weeks is not enough time to understand everything.  More will come as it comes.  In the meantime, I should also say that life here continues and my personal day to day experience has not been one in which I am interacting with soldiers constantly or battling to walk down the street.  I have been semi adopted by a fantastic family in the camp and will begin my Arabic dance lessons with them soon.  The kindergarteners are just as annoying as knidergarteners in any other country.  Germans, French, and British folk are my new hookah and lecture buddies.  I am truly enjoying myself, but am also trying to balance that enjoyment with my larger knowledge of the situation.

Perhaps I should leave it here for now.  I guess that I'll be blogging again soon!  I hope to hear back on what you all think--assuming, that is, that I have successfully enabled this blog with some sort of "comment" capability...Once again, I beg for your patience and I promise that I will get the hang of this.