Educating in Palestine

Haven't written in a while. To start, I was kicked out of the country. Visa issues. I'd love to write about how a university teacher with a legitimate contract whose position is supported by powers that be in the institution can't get a visa to continue her job, but sadly we self-censor from fear of the future repercussions. It is pretty incredible to think about: I have a totally legitimate job and am having to teach by email and web conferencing because I am denied access to my students because they are occupied by a state who has every interest in denying education, health, food, water, etc. I try to be an observer, to tell what I see without personal analysis, but it's so hard. What kind of education can you hope for when getting textbooks, much less the money to buy them, is such a struggle. Or when your faculty members are systematically denied entry to the country where there jobs are? I'm not the first to experience this. Or when students can't access the university? Ideas can not be discussed under such circumstances nor infrastructure developed. It's just totally unrealistic for us to imagine fighting injustice when education is denied or impaired in the ways occupation impairs and denies it. A visiting scholar must pass herself off as a tourist to get a visa and only has a maximum of three months to do her work. Thank you occupation. At least the West Bank can get her for three months. Gaza is sealed, and they don't even have food there much less can they complain about education problems.

Visas

If you know anyone who tries to work or live in Palestine, you know that the most effective way for occupation to keep us out of Palestine and away from doing our work is to deny us visas. We try to come in on tourist visas, and we are forced to either leave and renew at borders, or to attempt a visa extension at the Israeli Ministry of Interior—a branch of the government that is infamous for is disorganization and refusals. I am, like most others, a victim of the visa. I was naïve enough to believe it would work itself out, but alas I have not only had my requested visa extension denied, but I was forced to buy a new plane ticket and sign a document swearing not to renew the visa. And so, I’m leaving. The crazy thing is, I had all my ducks in a row. I even had official government recommendations requesting my extension. And yet here I find myself refused. What can one do? It is nearly impossible to get a work visa for the occupied areas and that is where my life, work, and heart all reside. I know another guy, with no papers or plans, who went through the Ministry of Interior and found himself leaving with a six month extension. Why> Is there really any method to this madness? Maybe the point is to not create policies, to not have rules, to not have structure or organization. I don’t know. All I know is that it is utterly impossible to build infrastructure and institutions when we cannot keep employees here.

Strike

I remember a Palestinian friend one time saying that even were there no occupation, we would have a state that looked like every other Arab state—is that so much better. Sure it is, well, maybe not so much, but certainly better. As I sit here in a shared taxi waiting for the empty seats to fill up, even if only just one person would come so we can leave, I am thinking about that comment my friend make a year or more ago. We have had more strike days at this university than teaching days. And for what? Apparently the PA was given international aid for the express purpose of higher education. Something around 20 million dollars, not a penny of which any university in Palestine has seen yet. Hence the strike. A day here. A day there. But people are starting to get fed up, and now we are on two or three days a week of open strike. All universities in the West Bank are standing together to demand the PA share the wealth. Personally, I can understand the demand for higher pay. It’s basically peanuts and I don’t know how anyone can support a family on the income of a teacher here. Clearly we have been ineffective so far at holding the PA accountable. And I worry. I worry as I see the taxis lined up for another day without work. I worry as I see the empty cafeteria and dirty halls, workers home for another day without pay. How many thousands of people are being affected by this strike? How many millions by this occupation?

Things Get Worse

Everyone is saying it. Everyone is feeling occupation squeezing tighter and tighter. More land. More water. More roads. More houses. More everything taken by force so that Palestinians are a people without. The military rerouted the Wall in the village of Jayyous. They "gave back" some of the land they had stolen. The new route took my friend's land. The IDF just came one morning and started uprooting trees. One olive tree: gone. Two olive trees: gone. Three: gone. Thousands. Hundreds of thousands. Gone. Dead. Everything that lives, everything Palestinian, including the olive tree, is in danger of extinction. Life is not sacred in the holy land anymore.

Palestine Stinks

I remember noticing the stench last summer. But it was only in particular areas, mostly the villages that were so unlucky as to have an Israeli Jewish settlement hovering atop them on the mountain. The sewage from the settlement was and is always routed to the Palestinian villages below.

But this year it’s everywhere. Palestine reeks. Maybe it’s the shear number of settlements and that much of the West Bank suffers from their sewage, but I think the land is breaking under the burden of destruction. Olive trees are burned from the sewage that seeps into the soil and shrivel up. It burns to breath in some areas. In Tulkarem the Israeli factories release chemicals into the air that burn your throat and nose when you breathe. And the trash piles, these huge mountains of rubbish that the settlements deposit outside of Palestinian villages. They stink and they rot the earth below them. I just don’t understand. Even if the Israelis want all the land for themselves, how can that happen if they destroy the land. And I can tell you this: they are destroying the land with their waste and pollution. They are killing Palestine.

A Friend in Palestine

I have this friend here in Palestine. He's one of the most intelligent and capable people I have ever met in my life. He's an activist who organizes Palestinians and Internationals to work in solidarity against the occupation. Every time this friend travels around the West Bank, the shared taxi in which he rides is subject to being stopped at checkpoints, which are strategically located all over the West Bank. There are three main terminals--permanent structures that are located so that if closed, the West Bank is wholly divided into three areas with no access.

At checkpoints, this friend and the other Palestinians are told to take out their Hawiyya--the id card written in Hebrew and Arabic that states their personal information: full name, mother's name, religion, gender, place of birth and place of issue. It is held in a green plastic slip cover, which is, like the id, a requirement--for it means that he is a West Bank Palestinian. Such a distinction is necessary for the Israeli soldiers who control these checkpoints. The blue ids mean that the person is from Jerusalem, which is a special category similar to a resident alien. Blue id Palestinians live in illegally annexed Jerusalem and are denied Israeli citizenship. Thus, when we say 20% of Israel's population is Arab, these are the excluded ones because they have Jerusalem id rather than Israeli citizenship. In fact, 50% of the population is "Arab," but only 20% are "Arab Israeli" citizens.

That blue id allows a Palestinian access in Israel and Palestine; it is a coveted card. But my friend has a green id, which is really shit because he is limited as to where he can go. Even within the West Bank itself he does not have access everywhere--though he is Palestinian. Oh the intricacies of this occupation! Every time this friend travels around the West Bank, I hold my breath. Checkpoints are sites of harassment, humiliation, violence and arrests. And as a young Palestinian male, much less one who is politically active, his very life is in danger. I am waiting for his arrest to come. Why will he be arrested? He was born Palestinian. It's that simple.

Still Holding on to Hope

Some have noticed that I have not written for a while. I simply don't know what to say anymore. I don't know how Palestinians have survived this long. I don't know how people love, marry, bring new life into this world, celebrate, study, exist. I just don't know how they live in the face of daily violence and the constant attempts at destroying life here.

It is beyond my capacity for thinking to understand this occupation. It is intricate and it is brilliant. It is well funded and very well staffed. They erect walls and a Wall; they destroy houses and businesses; they "target" and assassinate, and not just those targeted; they watch with state of the art surveillance; they arrest and torture; they deny movement, education, and life; they erect checkpoints and decline permits to pass; they humiliate; they break spirits and bones. How do Palestinians exist after so many years of this? I swear I don't know the answer. I don't know how love can exist here. Even I can't keep my head up, and this is a new battle for me. I am fresh, strong and young. Yet I cannot endure against this omnipresent, omniscient and destructive force.

Today I saw a new comment on an old post. And it reminded me: I am not alone. They may have billions (US dollars) and an impossibly well trained, well armed military, but this is life we are talking about. And isn't the fight to exist stronger than that to destroy?

I hope so. I can only hope that this is true, and that we can hold on to what is humane here, that which this amazingly destructive project of Zionism attempts to decimate in Palestine.

Look But Don't Touch

From particular points on the campus of my university, one can catch a glimpse of the sea to the east. The street from the university to the city also reveals a few exceptional views of the sea in the distance. Every time I see the sun reflecting on the horizon my heart hurts, and I think wouldn’t it be better not to see it. Wouldn’t it be better not to have to look at that which should be within reach but is in fact forbidden. Once a student told me that she hasn’t been to the water is 6 years. Another said he hasn’t been allowed since 1996. Everything he writes returns to that sea. Look but don’t touch. See what you are denied, and keep on weeping.

Imagining, Un Occupying

What would it look like? Can we imagine the landscape without settlements? Roads without checkpoints? Travel without military permission?

As I sit here, in a third floor cafe, looking out over the center of Ramallah, I am absorbed in the bustle of this awkward city. It is a village that was forced to host people and a "government" when both were systematically denied access to other places.
A traffic circle centers the city, which branches into six roads. People weave in and out of the cars. Boys loiter. Every once in a while the white skin and western dress of an international catches my eye. Shops are open, with people walking in and out, carrying bags. The energy of a stifled people, a stifled city, a stifled nation permeates the air.

What would Ramallah be like if Jerusalem were restored to her people? The capital would be declared, the government buildings moved, the people permitted access to pray. I love Ramallah, but it is bursting at its seams under the weight of occupation, and I want to imagine a new Ramallah because this center cannot hold. 60 years is just too long.

Racial Repulsion

Had a conversation with a guy I know tonight that really disturbed me. He said that he would choose to sit next to a white person on the bus over an Arab. He said that Arabic is vulgar and they are loud and smell bad. He said he was repulsed by Arabs. I told him it was racist. He said it was not. I asked if someone said the same about Jews would that be racist? Yes he said. But this is different. It's not just against a race in general. They are his enemy. I asked, "Are my students your enemy?" He was embarrassed. "Are my kids your enemy? My mom?" He was ashamed. He said, "Maybe not my enemy, but..."

"An Other?" I asked. He said yes. I said you only perpetuate this by othering them.

I said "If someone said to me, 'I would not sit next to a Jew,' I'd go after him for his racism. I'd tear him apart for it. You are saying that." I told him that he's better than that. He said it's normal. Everyone he knows thinks like that. I said it should not be normal and he should be ashamed of himself. Who knows how much he'll think about this after tonight. I can't stop thinking about it though. How can we find change in a society that is so thoroughly racist?

What is Occupation?

The United States people fund the Israeli occupation of Palestinian people and land. The bullets in the soldiers’ guns, their uniforms and tanks—it’s our money and therefore our responsibility to understand what exactly we are funding.

I’m not criticizing the internal crisis nor commenting on any discrimination or human rights violations inside Israel. I’m talking here of occupation. In brief, since 1967, Israel has occupied the West Bank, Gaza Strip (disengagement is a myth), Golan Heights and East Jerusalem (illegally annexed). Occupation is legal under international law, but Israel’s occupation hasn’t been conducted according to international law; this occupation has committed endless human rights violations against the occupied.

What is occupation? Checkpoints and terminals; closures, sieges and curfews; tanks, guns and “targeted” killings; military prisons, courts and unending administrative detention; permits and id cards. More than a military presence, occupation here translates to denial of education, health, movement, life. Security can be invoked as an excuse for military occupation, but all people are human beings, and the cost of one people’s “security” should NEVER be another people’s insecurity and lives.

It’s weak to say that others suffer more, so Palestinian suffering is comparably little. It’s immoral to say there’s greater injustice elsewhere, so Israel’s human rights abuses are dismissible. It is dishonest to invoke atrocities to falsely applaud Israel as more humane, more free. A spectrum of human suffering should not be constructed, much less used to justify oppression and inequality.

Where there are gross and daily violations of human rights, we’re obliged to understand and challenge them--at home and abroad.

20 Too Many

19 year old boy. A young body to be expected to handle 20 bullets. But 20 bullets he held courtesy of settlers...a too common tale these days.

The Other Side

I had to take a medium length bus ride in Israel last week across half the country. The Central Bus Station swarms with soldiers--off duty, lounging around with guns slung across shoulders, drinking coffee in line, waiting for the next bus to wherever. It's strange to be surrounded by soldiers who are non threatening (thought guns are never non threatening). They don't know me. Even if they passed me through a checkpoint last week or last year, no one recognizes me. But for them I am traitor. I know this because I felt this yesterday.

On the first part of my journey a friend from Hebron called me, and I had to take her call because I'd neglected her far too long. I removed one ear bud of music, leaving the other one in (this is important because it made me far less aware of my volume and the people around me). I was in the back corner of the bus and directly surrounded by 4 soldiers. I can't explain how surreal it is to have them sit next to you, on a bus, and smile and chat and bump into you and apologize. It feels so wrong to move from screaming soldiers behind bullet proof glass, humiliating and degrading people to this. Some may read this and think, yea, well, they are human too. No, they are trained to oppress. And I can't see a division between work and life here. Human lives can't only be snapped during work hours. Israel is a machine that trains life to work for occupation. I hear kids saying how they are not excited to serve in the army, but we must. We must protect our country. Brainwashed.

Anyway, to the phone call. It was mostly in Arabic, and I was so embarrassed. And ashamed of my embarrassment. I got off the phone and thought, "I've betrayed myself." But no one around me seemed to notice. Not the kid in front of me with his huge gun slung over his sleeveless t or the soldier next to me who seemed to be sitting too close on purpose.

But on the return trip, again, I was forced to speak Arabic on the phone. And this time people noticed. A soldier had come to talk to a friend near me and ended up sitting by me. When I hung up the phone, he looked me over. It was something between disgust and confusion, mostly disgust. You know, Arabic is a national language here. And I was embarrassed to speak it because I feared consequences. Real consequences. I didn't just think people would not like me. I really don't give a shit. I thought they would hear my name and connect the dots and...well, fear, unfounded or not is the petroleum of the occupying machine. Self censorship. Fear. Oppression. Passivity.

Breaking the Isolation

Today I did something my colleagues found unconventional if not distressing. I sent up my computer, connected it to the internet and speakers, then had my class of 26 gather around the set up. We had a date with Rula Awad-Rafferty, a friend of mine in Idaho. Rula is a diasporic Palestinian who had an amazing opportunity this summer to visit the ruins of her mother's village--destroyed in 1948. Read about her story here (I assigned this article to my students).

We are studying collective memory and focusing on 1948 to think through some heavy concepts. My students are really motivated and very capable kids. I decided to have them conduct an in-class interview with Rula over the internet. They saw her on my computer screen, and she saw them on hers. Together they conversed for 45 minutes. It was a brilliant and moving 45 minutes. A few times I even choked back tears.

Among other things, Rula spoke of the inspiration she felt at seeing Palestinian resilience and strength under daily occupation when she was here. She was moved by the interview experience because she was able to reconnect, online, to Palestine. As she praised these students for living under occupation, it struck me: most of them have never connected with Palestinians outside of the West Bank and Gaza. They don't know that people all over the world like Rula are working for Palestine. I asked, and they didn't know. And it's a two way street. These kids feel forgotten, isolated, abandoned by the world to endure injustice and violence. And Rula felt disconnected from the situation and people here. They inspired each other, and it was such an incredible experience to watch both of their differing isolations being broken, and replaced by inspiration and motivation.

When the interview finished I asked how it went. My students broke into joyful exclamations, saying how amazing that was. And then one girl said, "I felt a little ashamed. She is working so hard for us, and we aren't doing anything. We aren't political. We just go about our daily lives, like we have given up the fight. I want to do more." I put my hand over my heart and smiled with the joy I felt inside, "Yes! We all can and must do more. We can and must! And it starts here and now."

Education Under Occupation

How do I describe occupation? How do I convey to you the frustration and humiliation, the grief and stress of living under occupation? Even just to explain what occupation is...I don't know where to start. I don't know how to paint a picture for you that can possibly give you an idea.

Today I collected a one page descriptive writing assignment from my university students.

One girl described watching a little boy at a checkpoint who was trying to sell soldiers water. The soldiers knocked the boy's good to the ground and told him to pick them up. When the boy bent down, the soldier stepped on the child's back. When the boy succeeded in picking up all the bottles, one soldier grabbed the boy's shirt and demanded he use the water to wash. The boy said I will wash your face and then he spit on the soldier. They killed the boy. I don't know if this story is true, but a Palestinian student does not need a great imagination to write this story, even if it is not true.

One boy described the waves of the sea, and the sand, and the clouds and stars and the moon. And like many students who wrote happy descriptions, he closed by saying this was his dream. But his reality is that the sound of crashing waves, the sand between his toes, the water over his feet...it all remains a dream, and he knows that it will be a dream for years to come.

I left my class and walked through campus. Students, just getting out of class themselves, walked down the campus mall. Friends strolling along, laughing and chatting. Smiling faces, fashionable clothes, backpacks slung over shoulders. Normal students who are anything but normal. They are denied education, movement, health. They are denied their humanity. They are occupied in every sense of the word--these scary, threatening Arabs we all must fear. They violent Arabs against whom Israel must build a Wall and continue a violent occupation. They are my students and they write about another life, a life in which they are more human and free from the fear and pain of occupation.

Taybeh Beer

Daily lesson in occupation policy:

Taybeh Beer is the only microbrewery in Palestine. Named after the village where it is produced, Taybeh is delicious and offered in golden, amber or dark brews. While it comes in a bottle, draft Taybeh is particularly enjoyable...though I don't know why that is exactly that it tastes so much better in the glass. There are only a handful of restaurants that offer Taybeh on tap, and they are all local restaurants (Ramallah).

A friend in Jerusalem owns a bar. I insisted he switch from Taybeh in the bottle to draft. He cocked his head to one side and said, "I cannot. What happens when I install the tap, and the delivery is held up at a checkpoint? I can't promise Taybeh to my customers because the brewery can't promise it to me. This is occupation.

And I said, that's so smart. The market inside and outside of the West Bank is so volatile, so inaccessible...and a business cannot survive without fulfilling promises. Separate the goods from the consumer, and the consumer won't buy. And so, my friend stocks Israeli beers on his shelves. They are guaranteed. Kills two birds as well: undermines the Palestinian economy and strengthens the Israeli. Man occupation is smart!

The Privilege of Teaching

Being a teacher is really quite a privilege. To start, you have an entire hour or hour and a half to talk to a captive audience. They have to listen to you, and they can only disagree if you let them. Really, education could easily be called indoctrination, for sometimes it actually feels like brainwashing. And I think that it can be brainwashing. Students are trained to take their teachers' words as gold, and I think we have a responsibility to retrain them to not just ingest but to challenge. To challenge everything.

I always say that I don't understand why Israel won't give me a visa if I say I live in Palestine. I mean, I am NOT DOING ANYTHING WRONG! I'm teaching writing for god's sake! I gave a lecture this week that woke me up to the reality that for Israel, I am doing something very dangerous. I am inciting my captive audience.

My students are learning about collective memory--that lived experience that is shared by many and articulated by individuals of that collective. Collective memory informs the historical record, and the historical record constitutes the accepted version of the past and the present. Well, as we know from Palestine and Israel, the historical record is a Zionist history, much of which is based on myths and all of which is used to facilitate a colonialist project. Collective memory is a powerful tool...but only if articulated, accessed, and embraced.

Let's think about 1948 in Palestine. Israel's "Independence" is celebrated extensively and globally. On this 60th anniversary, let us really think about Israeli independence. The small but determined army of Jews defended themselves against the overwhelming Arab armies. "Never again," they shouted--a clear reference to the Holocaust and exile. End of story. Israeli collective memory of 1948 paints a triumphant, nationalist picture of success against great odds. And the national imaginary and historical record are wholly based on this experience, but the less referenced historical record shows Ben Gurion, the Zionist leader at the time, knowing that they were neither outnumbered nor overpowered, and certainly not threatened existentially. Yet he and his power dogs claimed otherwise, and Jews fought on this basis. So it is their collective memory which has in turn written history.

Where is the story of the Nakba? Few hear that story of Palestinians in 1948, though this is beginning. Where is their collective memory? It has certainly not shaped the historical record in any significant way to date. What does that mean? What I told my students, and what Said articulates, is that the Palestinian failure to consolidate their collective memory of the Nabka and shape it into a coherent narrative that is accepted as historical record is absolutely detrimental to the cause of Palestine.

Israel is ethnically cleansing Palestinians. It is a 60 plus year campaign, one that morphs but whose goal is steadfast. The Zionist Project will succeed, and there will be no Palestinians.

The future of the Palestinian people depends on their ability to harness collective memory and demand a new narrative that includes them and their experiences. For as long as the world knows only the Zionist history, Israel's "security measures"--read occupation and ethnic cleansing--are wholly justified. NO! There is a history of occupation and oppression here and I must believe the world would not condone Israeli state terror and ethnic cleansing and apartheid if the world really understood. But how can it? The Palestinians are silent; they are silenced. It is terribly easy to cleanse the silent / silenced from the land. And so I say: assert the collective memory and claim it as part of a history that the world must learn. Gather it and insert it into the historical record, because it is valid. But do it now, before it's too late.

Accepting Oppression

This term "normalization" is thrown around as an accusation against some or a strategy for others. I was asked what is so objectionable about normalization recently? I tried to answer that question, but I was poor in articulating the answer. And it came to me, just now. Normalization is trying to forget about occupation, trying to go on with life as if this were in fact normal, accepting occupation and living with it. Okay, this is the reality--occupation--and there is no choice for the occupied but to live with it. BUT, that does NOT mean you accept it, that you fail to recognize and dissent from and even fight against that very reality. Should the oppressed and oppressor be a normal relationship that is acceptable? Should violence be normal?! Normalization is that place where you accept oppression and try to get along with it. And oppression should NOT be normal!

The Price of a Dollar Fare

I’m not sure that it was the extra one-dollar fare that he was able to make. My main reason for suspecting he had an alternative motive was the street lined with people hailing his shared taxi. Many of those waiting were alone, so the driver could easily have picked up an individual for the one free seat remaining in the minivan. Instead he picked up a single man with four girls, between 4 years old and 8 I would guess. We all had to rearrange ourselves in the van so they could squeeze in, taking two seats when only one was available, which meant a young teenager had to sit on a box, legs straddling the stick shift next to the driver. No one seemed annoyed. I’m sure I was immensely amused by it all, and my face showed it. When the little girl, sharing a seat with her sister, who was closest to the driver handed him the fare, I smiled again. Surely it wasn’t the dollar that was responsible for all the work we just did to fit this family inside the too tight taxi.

The mini van stopped at the university to let me out, and again, the chaos ensued…everyone in the row scooting to the next seat before stepping out of the taxi. Four girls on the side of the van, waiting as I slid out. I smiled and thanked them all. And I found I could not stop smiling as I walked through campus. Such an effort, and no complaint from anyone. This is life here. Help when you can, as much as you can. Only I seem at all entertained and inspired by this mundane, yet beautiful quality of life under occupation.

Boycotting Occupation

When I'm in the States, Europe, or anywhere else around the world, I proudly boycott Israel--a state which maintains a 40+ year brutal occupation of another people and which practices Apartheid. I boycott both Israeli products and those that are non Israeli but which support Israel. I believe in using my individual buying "power" to make a political statement, which could be, if enough others joined me, a forceful tool, hopefully akin to the South African model just as the state of Israel is akin to the South African state.

Two nights ago a friend came over for dinner. And I was so incredibly embarrassed as he went through the sparse products in my house. Handsoap--Israeli. Fresh mushrooms--Israeli. Milk--Israeli. Okay, I admit there are alternatives. A bar of Palestinian soap, but I love liquid handsoap. Canned mushrooms or no mushrooms, but I love fresh mushrooms. Arabic milk, but I heard it's not safe to drink. I wonder who told the woman who told me that the Arabic milk brand isn't safe? I never questioned that.

I don't get to have other things I love like breakfast burritos and tofu, so I am sure I can give up these products on the basis of moral responsibility. The point is this, it has always been easy for me to boycott Israel from afar. But here, under occupation, Israel is like a cancer and it's everywhere. Boycotting Israel doesn't mean choosing The Tea Leaf and Coffee Bean over Starbucks. That was a simple choice. There was a choice.

Boycotting Israel means not buying things that I see as essentials. Boycotting Israel means rethinking what is essential, and so I'm considering this question, and I think that life is essential, and so long as Israel disregards and robs that life (9 year old killed Friday), how can I invest in this Apartheid economy? So, I guess that means no more mushrooms or liquid handsoap for now, but when I put it in perspective, the sacrifice doesn't seem all that great.

I guess, in perspective also, is the weakness of my actions. So could you please send the same message to Israel and spread the word that Palestine has asked you to challenge occupation by boycotting Israel? Let's join the oppressed and since our governments won't do shit for them, let us use our precious individual choice to collectively fight injustice.

Palestine Five Years From Now...

An American friend was recently visiting me, and while we were sitting and talking over coffee in my house, she asked: “What do you think Ramallah will be like in five years?” I started imagining Ramallah’s potential. I thought about a new movie theatre and businesses, tourism, education… ”I mean, do you think you’ll even be able to get in to do this work?” She interrupted my dream with reality. It would likely not be getting better here, and I felt rudely awakened by her interruption. Not even be able to come here? What a terrible thought! Sure it was absurdly difficult to get in now, and staying was even more of a challenge, but we found ways. And as I thought of the millions of Palestinians who can’t get in or out, I pondered how this is likely the future of Palestine, and not just for Palestinians.
How can it be any different?

I remember last summer, taking my Palestinian family’s younger daughter to Jaffa for a weekend. We stayed in an Israeli hostel and the owner as well as guests would ask her where she lived and when she said Ramallah, I was horrified by their response: “You come from the West Bank!” they exclaimed with dropped jaws, staring at her like she was a dancing monkey. I knew then that there was a serious problem, a division on ethnic / racial lines that just blinded people to the Other. This fear was reinforced when the same American friend recently returned to see me after a time in Tel Aviv where she stayed with an American-Israeli friend. The stories my American friend told me of the Israelis with whom she went out… I don’t know how to communicate my disbelief and sadness, and I won’t repeat the racist stories here. Israelis have Palestinians all around them in everyday life, but not only do they not see them, they replace the real ones sitting next to them on the bus with the imagined Palestinian: the violent, threatening terrorist whose goal is to kill Jews. Find this absurd if you like, but I actually hear it all the time from Israelis. Even if they know there are other kinds of Palestinians, this is the one they think they know and the actual Palestinians are thought to be the exceptions rather than the other way around.

So, skip ahead a few days. I was walking with my Palestinian family’s oldest daughter and trying to tell her about my American friend who had been visiting. And I explained that she stayed with Israelis in Tel Aviv and that these Israelis were so ignorant about Palestine and that my American friend constantly tried to challenge them. And this daughter, she just could not comprehend my belief that we have to teach Israelis that there are human beings living under occupation so they can see how wrong it is to occupy Palestine, and then if we are lucky they will work towards real, just peace. And I don’t blame this 13 year old because why would she be able to imagine an Israeli who wants peace? She sees soldiers, guns, and tanks. Does that look like peace? She is not imagining Israelis as violent and threatening. She is seeing them, violent and threatening, in her daily life. She needs to see the ones that want a just peace. The ones that condemn occupation and the racist, exclusive state. But those are far too few, and they are not here. And so I can only conclude that the chances of Jewish Israelis opening their eyes to the thousands of Palestinians Israelis who are in their everyday worlds offers a far better chance of knowing the Other since Palestinians in the West Bank can’t get out of here and the only Israelis in here have guns. I can only pray Americans recognize their obligation to challenge Israel’s policies in Palestine and stop buying Israel bullets and tanks.

What will Ramallah be like in five years? Will I be able to get in here? Maybe Israeli will transfer its Gaza policy to the West Bank. Oh my god. Too many maybes… Five years and I don’t want to imagine any more.

Israel's Math: 200 prisoners released; 50 new ones to replace them...so far

As I walked into Ramallah this morning, I noticed a van covered with flags and posters. The driver kept honking the horn and young men hung out of the windows shouting. They seemed to be celebrating, but I didn't understand what. I saw a few more decorated cars and noticed kids holding flags and wearing keffiyas. I still didn't understand why.

This evening I finally got online to check the news and noticed that the Palestinian prisoners Israel promised to release have been freed. It clicked.

As I read through the story, I got this sense that Israel had done something so kind and generous. And as I watched the video I saw a dozen Palestinian men in jeans with sneakers, standing in a line and wearing handcuffs, waiting to return to their pasts. They didn't look like criminals, not even those scary, dangerous two that are labeled as having "blood on their hands." And then I got pissed off. I thought, "What the hell?!" Most aren't criminals. In fact, 10,000 Palestinian prisoners in Israeli prisons are political prisoners. This is occupation my friends. Those with power can arrest whomever they want. I've seen it happen with my own eyes. And Israel is generous for releasing these people, most of whom are in prison because they object to occupation and injustice?



What happens next? Have you heard of administrative detention? So many Palestinians are held under this category and denied trial; moreover, their status in administrative detention can be extended again and again, indefinitely. It's a violation of fundamental human rights.

And I mused: If Palestinians who are living day to day, going to work or school and coming home to family and friends, are denied their fundamental human rights, how are prisoners treated under occupation? Consider too that so many are children. And then I remembered the wedding music from last night, and from every other night this summer. And I thought to myself, how amazing that these people come out of years and years of deprivation, torture, suffering...and they live. They not only survive it but they return and then they affirm and re-affirm life. They marry. They make babies. They go back to school or work. They affirm this god forsaken life under occupation, this hell called Palestine. That is resistance. That is hope and that is beautiful.

But even this hope is destroyed the same day when Israel invades Ramallah and kidnaps 50 new prisoners. They are quick to replenish those they freed and will not only break even, but surely add to the numbers of Palestinians rotting away in Israeli prisons.

A Day to Jenin

In the shared taxi, I sit and look out of the windows. We leave bustling Ramallah and curve through the village of Serda and then Birzeit, passing by the lovely campus of Birzeit U. There's one checkpoint, and we are waived through; they'll check us when we come back. I noticed the soldiers gun isn't trained on the car and passengers. Normally it is. We drive down a hill since the checkpoint blocks the historical road, barring any Palestinian use of the traditional route. We enter a settler road, only are we allowed its use until the "new" Palestinian road is constructed. Hill top after hill top there are settlements: red tile roofs, tract housing closely built, fencing around the "borders"--illegal and threatening. We count one, two, three, four, five. I notice outposts. Six, seven, eight. Outposts are the beginning of settlements; they are a few trailers on a hill top, claiming the land. Then the Israeli gov't sends out the electric guys and you see posts with electrical wiring surrounding the trailers. This signals official condoning of the outpost. Nine, ten settlements. And I'm sick of counting because there are hundreds. What I love about Jenin District is that there are no settlements. The land is beautiful there. Farming land with Palestinian villages and no smell of foul sewage like in the Palestinian villages at the foot of the settlements. My friend tells me there were four settlements but after the Israeli Military massacred refugees in Jenin Camp, they were afraid of Jenin's grief and they removed their settlements, relocating the settlers elsewhere in the West Bank.

Just for kicks, watch this video about the Jenin Freedom Theatre. Just click on the video at the bottom about the Trip to Bethlehem. I think it's really useful to hear refugee kids talking like this. Jenin may be a site of promise after all!

Random Thoughts

1. Teenage boys all over the world suck. They can be really stupid and mean.

2. Occupation destroys people through the mundane. We crossed Calandia Checkpoint and the Wall, which goes down the middle of the street, was under intense construction with three groups of workers at different points along it, each group protected by an armed "security" man (all men). They were putting electric wire wrapped in razor wire on the top of the Wall and again two feet below that. No one looked twice, even though it's brand new. It gets worse daily, and that's normal. I asked someone why the razor wire. Apparently last year during Ramadan, Palestinians put ladders against the Wall to eat with family--once divided by a street; now divided by a street with a Wall planted into the middle of it. Ramadan is coming, so the Israelis must prepare for this "breach of security."

3. It's really heart breaking to see old men sitting on crates with cardboard boxes upturned, on top of which some veggies and herbs are for sale. Next the the old man, who shouldn't have to make his pennies at this point in his life, is a boy of 6 who sells shitty juice for a dime. A 70 year old man and a 6 year old child both trying to feed themselves. Retirement and youth denied by occupation's everyday violence.

4. Americans have to wake the hell up because Israelis won't. They are so amazingly delusional about the situation. Tax paying Americans have a moral obligation to know where their money goes and to challenge its use for ethnic cleansing. WAKE UP AND CHANGE THIS ATROCIOUS, INHUMANE SITUATION. You are paying for it. The bullets in the guns are yours! And they are mine. And if you can't tell, I'm pissed off about it. You should be too.

Ilan Pappe: the Israeli moral position and ethnic cleansing

I'll admit it, I'm in love with Ilan Pappe. I've read some of his work, seen some interviews, and heard him speak a few months ago. He's excellent. I got a call from a friend in Nazareth two days ago, saying Pappe was speaking in Ramallah the next day. (She was having dinner with a friend of Pappe's who had just spoken to him on the phone.) Apparently, my friend was one of the few people who knew this because I called everyone I know in Ramallah asking for details. Now, normally, within two phone calls I have all the info. When occupation destroys infrastructure, people get creative. Information sweeps through something like a phone tree before it's on the local news station. All to say, since no one had heard anything, I started thinking Pappe was not, in fact, coming to Ramallah. Long story short, I found him.

There were maybe 15 of us and it was basically a conversation between us. Read his book "The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine"--very good narrative of 1948. I want to focus on a few particular points he made.

Pappe said: (much is direct quotes, a bit of paraphrase)

"I don’t think that there is any chance for peace and reconciliation between Israel and the Palestinians in the foreseeable future because of the Israeli position. In the late 1980s / early 1990s there was a dialogue between new historians (Israeli historians who were rewriting history of 48) and the Israeli public. The public found the factual story acceptable—-they said, 'Yes, Israel systematically and intentionally tried to ethnically cleanse the Palestinians. But it was justified; and it is also justified as future policy. So, we did it, what’s wrong with it?' This question means there is no basis for dialogue. When they didn’t accept it, there was a basis for dialogue."

Pappe suggested that Israelis have a sense of moral superiority (they say they have the most moral military in the world). And this means they don't see the moral problem with ethnically cleansing another people. He said, “Why don’t Israelis have a sense of morality? Because they have a sense of moral superiority” Why? Jewish Theology and the world, the West who acts as a judge of morality, absolved them from the ethnic cleansing of 1948. It was a very clear message from the West that we are entitled to do what we did...and still are.”

Finally in response to the question --“Do you think the project of ethnic cleansing is still on the agenda in Israel?” Pappe responded:

“I don’t think the project for the West Bank, as they see it, is ethnic cleansing but the project requires it. There is a clear project for wedges, which separate the areas from one another and from the outside. Therefore they are very busy making a clear Jewish presence in the West Bank that does not make ethnic cleansing a necessity. There’s no need when people are separated with a military installment over them and a Jewish settlement around them. Everyday there is a group of experts that produces strategic planning and very tactical answers to developments on the ground. The common thread is how do we divide, redivide, subdivide the area to enable control on the one hand and provide an image of disengagement on the other hand. Ethnic cleansing isn’t the model, that is, the ethnic cleansing of 1948. To my mind this is ethnic cleansing but not the same paradigm as 1948.”

Laughing at the Occupier

First off, anyone hear about the 4 Gaza students whose visas were revoked by the State Dept. after "new information was revealed"? I happen to have a little inside information...let's just say we can always blame security and it helps Israel not look so awful when the US takes the heat for revoking the visas.

Second, apparently Dr. Ilan Pappe (whose work I mentioned in a previous blog) is here and speaking in my city tomorrow. So, look for an entry later about that.

Finally, to the point. Anyone know of Maysoon Fayid? I know her from the If Americans Knew video "The Easiest Targets." Watch it here...

Anyway, I was sitting at home this evening, working away when a friend in NC sent me a message that Maysoon is doing a stand up comedy show tonight in Ramallah and I HAVE to go. I didn't want to, so I gave her a few excuses: "My Arabic isn't good enough" (It's in English too); "I'm tired" (It's an awesome opportunity); "It starts in 15 min." (Just GO!); "It's probably sold out" (GOOOOOOO!). She kept pushing until I felt totally peer pressured. So I went.

So Maysoon opens up saying "I'm an American, Palestinian virgin Muslim with cerebral palsy. If that doesn't make you feel good, I just don't know what to say!" What struck me most was that the theatre was full of every possible person. I saw old people in conservative dress, kids, young adults visiting from the States with American accents, foreigners...everybody. Her jokes are sometimes crude and she even drops the f-bomb, and yet the old man next to me laughed louder than anyone. Actually, there was a moment when even he stopped laughing. (This is my paraphrase, and surely not nearly as funny as Maysoon is!)

Maysoon: "I'd like to talk about our Palestinian leadership. But they are just not funny!" (Laughter)

"But you know, my problem is not with the Palestinians. I have a problem with the Israelis." (Silence)

"We know the Masad is listening, but they are laughing too. Don't worry; they are WITH US!" (Silence) "Laugh people!"

And I thought, it's phenomenal we can laugh at ourselves, but we aren't allowed to laugh at them. We're too scared.

But not always. You know Palestinians have a standard for checkpoints--ironically using the 4 star hotel ratings to measure how intense they are. There's a lot of humor and laughter here. It's a weapon for many that can't be confiscated like everything else. It was Maysoon's weapon, though we all refused to join her on that joke. Well, all but one too-loud, too-abrupt outburst. Woops.

Right of Return

Sometimes being open minded and listening to perspectives that differ from your own can be a trying task. I want to return to the Israeli ministry official and write some more on what he said, which was reinforced by another official and later by and Israeli professor.

The official explained the problem of Palestinian refugees thus (I was taking notes by hand so quotes are direct and the rest is paraphrase):

In 1948 Israel announced its Independence; “we gave our hand in peace [and] since we did not lost, they [refugees] could not come back.” He said that most refugees fled because they were scared, and in some cases the Arab armies told them to leave. In 1967, there was “again a movement of refugees” and the “Arab countries did not want to incorporate the refugees into their populations.” In terms of Israel’s responsibility in dealing with the Palestinian refugee problem, International law doesn’t acknowledge the Right of Return. The refugees who "fled" from areas now in Israel cannot be incorporated into Israel because, the official said, “They will not be loyal Israeli citizens.” (Someone asked, “What if they take an oath?”) The official stated, “This is the Middle East! Would you accept 4 million Al Qaeda supporters in the US?”

Now my turn. Excellent scholarship is available by Israeli and Palestinian historians that deals with 1948. I highly recommend Ilan Pappe’s The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine, which documents 1948. Pappe acknowledges poor Palestinian leadership and the Arab armies roles during this time, but he very clearly demonstrates the power differentiation between them and Israeli violence and responsibility. He debunks the very myths the Israeli official was feeding us. 1948 is not, in fact, the story of the besieged Jews, though many Jews in this area at the time believed that, and still they are told that very narrative. Zionist leadership knew better, but they manufactured a narrative that is, to this day, reproduced and believed by many. I encourage you to check out Zochrot, an Israeli organization in Tel Aviv; they literally are redrawing the map of Israel to acknowledge this history.

And finally, the UN repeatedly affirms the Palestinian Right of Return. This is easily researchable. Racism is a dangerous and powerful accusation, but that is indeed what I heard from this official in his closing comments and analogy. There is an obsession with security in Israel, and it stems from a very serious belief that the very existence of Jews is threatened daily and the State of Israel is the only hope for preventing the extinction of the Jewish people. As the official said: “Everything is dependent on security,” but I will remind you that here only one people is allowed to be secure, and it comes at a devastating cost for another people.

Settlements and Home Demolitions

Sometimes I imagine what peace would look like in Israel and Palestine. I close my eyes and I believe that either grassroots activities or even the government might bring it about. And then I open my eyes and look around: the rubble of demolished houses against the backdrop of green lawns in illegal settlements, the beautifully paved settler by-pass roads contrasting the desperate situation in Gaza where there isn’t food, water, or medicine enough.

I recently met with an Israeli ministry official to get a briefing on the conflict. While I am convinced that we must and really can understand the situation in Israel and Palestine, I recognize that there are complexities and varying perspectives / narratives that must be thought through. I understand that even facts and history are disputable. In the period of an hour, I ingested so much bullshit that I’m still not able to really process the experience. I’m going to focus on one topic he touched on: settlements and home demolitions.

This ministry official used a map that a person in our group had—a generic map we bought at a gas station so we could drive around Israel—to show us where the Green Line is. The Green Line was drawn by the UN in 1949 to essentially delineate Palestine from Israel, that is, to sketch out the West Bank and the Gaza Strip. The West Bank is often not distinguished but rather incorporated into Israel as Israel on most of the maps I picked up in Israel. The West Bank is essentially erased. On the map the ministry official used (again, our map) there was a dashed green line, yet the official traced The Green Line with his finger two to three inches inside the line drawn, and when the area of the West Bank is only five to seven inches wide on the map, he is cutting the area down to nearly nothing. Now, perhaps you will think he was just ignorant, but I will tell you that this man’s job is to know and speak about Palestine. Furthermore, the Green Line was there, so why redraw it with your finger? Later he tried to spot a few major Palestinian cities and Israeli settlements on the map, and he pointed to where he thought it was (after scanning the map for up to a minute), yet his geography was only on target once. Whether he was intentionally shrinking the West Bank or just ignorant (as seemed to be the case with pointing out major Palestinian cities) is irrelevant. This is a man representing the government, and either scenario is scary.

When asked about the peace process and Israel’s role in working towards peace, the ministry official was specifically asked to respond to settlements and Israel’s refusal to freeze expansion while simultaneously promising such a freeze during Annapolis. His response was “What about Palestinian settlements?” This may seem strange, so let me explain because it took me a few minutes to understand the question…and I was there.

“Settlements” are illegally (according to the UN) constructed communities for Israeli Jewish populations, which Israel builds (and I’ll say more about this) in the West Bank (formerly in Gaza as well, and also still in the Golan Heights). While they are constructed with non government money, the land on which they are built is Palestinian land that is often confiscated by the Israeli government. The Israeli government also offers considerable incentives for Jewish Israelis to move to the settlements. Their construction creates irreversible facts on the ground, not towards “Judaizing” Palestine, but also in terms of damage—environmental, economical, psychological, etc.—on Palestinian individuals and communities. Settlements are not only Jewish-only communities constructed on occupied land (an illegal act in itself) but they also bring with them Israeli government constructed by-pass roads which connect settlements and provide them access to Israel. These roads are illegal as well; additionally, they are racially exclusive and astoundingly destructive to Palestinian livelihoods. Between settlements and by-pass roads, the West Bank is hacked into enclaves that are divided from one another and sometimes within a single town. Settlements are illegal and terribly, terribly harmful to Palestine, and to any promise of peace.

So, what did this official mean by “Palestinians building settlements”? He followed up this question by stating that Palestinians are building illegally all the time, so why don’t we understand that this is a problem to peace also. Palestinians are required by the occupation authorities to petition the Israeli military for permission to do any construction at all. Not only does this cost money, but it costs time. And most Palestinians are denied the permits to build. Much of their land, and construction on it, is deemed a security threat to Israel. Thus, Palestinians have two choices…don’t build (which means don’t marry and have a family in this culture) or build on your own land without military permission at the risk of demolition. The ministry official classified all Palestinian building which is taking place on one’s own private land, all construction which was not there before 1967, as “Palestinian settlements.” He is able to do this by challenging the individual Palestinian’s claim to his own land with the argument that at one point historically it may have been Jewish land. Thus, Palestinians have been “settling” Jewish land for thousands of years. And thus, the Israeli government has a god given right to destroy any Palestinian house it does not approve of and a god given right to build Jewish only housing, against international law.

The real settler is the Palestinian. Now, we can argue about who is indigenous or who has a historical “right” to the land. But at the end of the day, I think the UN offers a useful and internationally legitimized standard for us. And using that, Israel is occupying Palestine in the West Bank and Gaza Strip and the creating of facts on the ground, including the transferring of its civilian population, is illegal.

Cynical? Who can bloody help it!

Twelve year old boy shot in the head today. They say the bullet split his head open. Ni'lin, the village my family comes from, the village I've been visiting on weekends and holidays since I started coming to Palestine. It used to be a quiet place, where my family would point to lands in the close distance and say "they will build the Wall here." It was hard for me to imagine. Then I hadn't yet seen the Wall. But now I know what it will look like there, like it looks all over Palestine. That's why there are popular protests in Ni'lin all the time. There was one today. After it finished Ahmad sat under a tree. The protest was over. Not that villagers and activists protesting gives ANY pretense for shooting. Still, it was over. He was just sitting under a tree in his village. And then...dead. 12 years old. Not another day of this unbearable occupation. Funeral is tomorrow. You are all invited.

B'Tselem

B'Tselem: "in the likeness / image of..." I'm not one for religion, but it makes sense in the Holy Land to name an Israeli information and human rights organization B'Tselem. Even if we weren't created, we are so very alike, so very human.

B'Tselem was started in the 80s and was initially focused on gathering information about human rights violations in the Occupied Territories. Clearly, there is a grave need for an organization to document the violations, but B'Tselem also engages in advocacy work--taking their reports to journalists, Israeli and international politicians, other organizations, groups, etc. The organization understands itself as an Israeli organization that aims to hold its government accountable to international humanitarian and human rights law. And while their work may be on the margins of Israeli society, it is at the heart of true democracy. I want to focus on a particular project that is relatively recent, running for only the last year and a half. I'm going to quote directly from their website:

"In January 2007, B'Tselem launched "Shooting Back", a video advocacy project focusing on the Occupied Territories. We provide Palestinians living in high-conflict areas with video cameras, with the goal of bringing the reality of their lives under occupation to the attention of the Israeli and international public, exposing and seeking redress for violations of human rights." Check out some of their footage and more about them on their website.

The director of the video department at B'Tselem said that he has over a thousand hours of video from the one hundred families around the Occupied Territories who have cameras. You can check out some videos here.

Did anyone see/hear/read about the young man at a protest against the wall in Ni'lin who was shot from a just one meter away by an Israeli soldier? Of course, the most "moral" army in the world used a bullet that was coated in rubber. Did I mention that the young man was bound and blind folded, his arm held by another soldier? See for yourself .It's shocking, right? But it's not uncommon. This blatant disregard for human beings...it happens here all the time. The only difference between this and the other tens of thousands of times is that this one you can see. The testimonies haven't been enough, but who can argue with video evidence?

I think the project is brilliant. It's about time we were just the slightest shocked or even outraged about this occupation. As B'Tselem pointed out, international law allows for occupation, BUT there are laws that dictate how the occupier must rule and Israel violates those in every possible way. They (and I here) are not saying occupation is good or right, but their work is arguing that the occupying power must respect human rights. To date, Israel only violates them, but maybe with Palestinians "shooting back" that will change, even if only a little. In the meantime, I take my hat off to B'Tselem!

Neve Shalom

Neve Shalom. A village inside Israel where both Israelis and Palestinians live together. I’ve been to cities like Jaffa which claim to be “mixed” places, but where the inequalities—the lack of mixing—are glaring. Neve Shalom is different; this place is intentionally mixed, which means the housing screening committee, the school admission board, etc. not only consciously accept an equal number of Palestinians and Jews, but the leadership of the village rotates or balances Palestinian and Jewish roles as well. It is very intentionally mixed.

It was amazing yesterday to hang out at the pool and hear both Arabic and Hebrew spoken together. Often, in Israel, if one hears Arabic there’s a sense the speakers are being discreet and certainly that they are being looked at differently. I’ve heard Arabic and Hebrew spoken together at checkpoints where soldiers shout a few words in Arabic or Palestinians are spoke to in Hebrew and respond in Arabic. But here is the first time I’ve ever heard the two languages spoken without a grave and noticeable power difference. It was phenomenal.

Don’t think I’m naïve. The village’s name is in Arabic and Hebrew and yet I introduced it in Hebrew because it is mostly called its Hebrew name. There’s a context for this and for the two languages in the pool, and it is not without power structures. The elementary school struggles to provide a bi-lingual education and talks about the difficulties of teaching the majority the minority language, etc. This village exists inside of Israel, and the battle of languages, and identities, does not remain outside the village.

But I sit here this morning, on the patio of my little cottage with a stunning view of valleys that are farmed, hills of pine trees (usually Palestinian villages that were destroyed and covered with trees), and Tel Aviv in the far distance, and I think, seriously, this is what Israel was supposed to be. It’s not paradise; it’s just co-existence, and people are capable of this. And yet, instead there was and is genocide and occupation. This place offers a really striking and successful model, but to whom? So I think about this a bit, and I know that what is happening here, while they say it is an outreach project and not a utopia, is in fact a utopia because it is no where that is relevant to Palestinians in the West Bank, Gaza, or most in the Diaspora.

A Funny Story to Help You Cope With the Despair

I haven't had internet for a few days (can you hear me panicking?!) and when I opened my inbox today, I found several concerned emails that tried to encourage me. I really appreciate these, and clearly people are worried because my blog is so down. So, I decided to write a more upbeat post to show you it's not all tears (but mostly it is and that's just the reality of occupation). Humor plays a really important role in resistance, and Palestinians are the first to claim it as a weapon of resistance! Here's my funny story...

The group I'm working with has to travel through the West Bank a bit, which means checkpoints and assholes with guns (sorry, I meant Israeli soldiers). So, our first day we went to Hebron (I planned that trip, and it was everyone's first day...way to drop them in the middle of it all). I gave everyone a checkpoint warning speech: don't talk or answer phone calls or put your attention elsewhere (soldiers get mean if they feel you aren't respecting them); don't offer your passport or information (they'll demand it if they want it); don't tell them we are doing education or political work, say we want to see the religious sites (they'll turn us away and say it's a closed military zone if we are politically motivated in our work). So, anyway, soldier gets on and wants to see passports. Everyone holds them up. Asks where we are going. Driver says Hebron. Soldier asks if we are anarchists (any leftist political activists are unwelcome). One of the group leaders responds from four seats back, "Yes, we are!" Soldier looks up from the passports, and I say, "No, no we are not anarchists. She doesn't understand you. We are not anarchists." Soldier steps down and waves us one.

Everyone in the bus starts shouting at the group leader: "What?" "We aren't anarchists!" "What the hell?" "Are you trying to get us in trouble?!" She looks horrified and says, "I thought she asked if we were honored guests." And we all burst into uncontrollable laughter. Honored guests / anarchists...it's all the same to the soldiers and government!

Disappearing Palestine/ians

Bear with me on this one. We are in the Galilee, staying in an adorable inn with dozens of cottages and private sea access. Everyone here, save my group, is Jewish. (Excepting, of course, the Palestinians cleaning the place who only deserve parenthetical reference.) Everyone went swimming, and I felt bad being anti-social, so I sat on the beach as they swam and sunbathed. I wanted to cry. Not just because we are in ’48 and looking at the occupied Golan Heights and chucking thousands into the Israeli economic (read war) machine, but because everyone I love in Palestine can’t get a military permit to come and sit with me on the beach that I’m enjoying with my white skin and blue passport. So, I decide to assert a very small act of solidarity with my friends and family on the other side of the Green Line: I dawn my keffiyah. You know that black and white checkered scarf that Palestinian men wear on their heads and women around their shoulders.

I go into the inn’s restaurant. People make friendly comments, and I don’t notice any dirty looks. My group arrives and joins me at the table, and the leader tells me I shouldn’t wear that here. She doesn’t mean Israel, but rather this posh resort that is basically exclusively Jewish. I tell her I don’t think it is a problem since I don’t notice people responding to me with any tension, but, I assure her, if she really wants me to take it off, I will. Not at all because I think she is right, but because it’s not worth the fight that it will provoke with her. She says she’ll get some feedback from another group member and let me know. In the meantime, I sit back down to eat.

Next to me is Khalid, our bus driver who I’ve invited to join us at the table. He asks me if I like the chicken, and I say: “Ana la akl lahama” (I don’t eat meat).

“Ah, vegetarian,” he says, “Very good. You like moulaheeya?” I tell him I love it, and he says it’s very hard to make. Who cooks this for me, he asks. My mother, I say.

“Your mother?! Wait, she is Palestinian?” he asks in confusion. And I tell him that nearly five years ago a Palestinian family took me into their home. He asks where they are from and I say her village name. He gets serious and asks if I came through the Jordan border crossing before one year. He remembers me and recollects that the Israelis kept me there most of the day. And also he remembers that they asked my grandfathers’ names, both on my mother’s and father’s sides. I was so pissed off because I didn’t know their full names and found the question absurd. I was the last person out of the border area, and I tried to haggle down the fixed price! He remembers all this and tells me. I'm so shocked. I can’t believe he remembers me, especially when I think about it and realize it was nearly three years ago that I made this trip.

Khalid leans in to advise me: “It’s not my business, but you should wear this keffiyah only in the Palestinian area. Here it’s not good.” I know what he is saying. I’m starting to notice some stares, and I know. I get it. And he knows why I’m wearing it. For god’s sake, he’s Palestinian. I say, “I get it, but they took the land, they took the water, they took everything. They can’t take you. They have to see that you are here.” And he said, “We will not disappear. This is from God, that we are still here.” The Palestinian has to tell me to lay low. He passes on the lesson he has learned: no Arabs should be seen here. I look around at all the men wearing their skull caps and think really hard: Why is that okay, but I make them uncomfortable? And then I remember, it’s not me. My white skin and American accent make me very, very welcome here. But my solidarity…with the others, that is intolerable. At least keep it to myself. So, I leave the table and come back here to write this story, hoping it will make me feel a little less sad. But I can’t, because it is so fucked up. Out of sight, out of mind. These are human beings and they are erasing them from their reality.

By pass roads and power plays

I'm traveling around in a group of Americans, and god is it painful! I'm more of a solo traveler, but it's not the company because actually there are amazing individuals in this group. I've been coming to Palestine for nearly a half decade, and I've basically always been with Palestinians. So, to be parading around in this group...it really kills me. Actually, the group just started joking about how embarrassed I am by them. But it's not being surrounded by 12 white, loud and camera bearing tourist-educators that does it; rather, for how much we try, we don't really get it--at least not in the way I want to get it.

We are staying on the Mt. of Olives at the guesthouse of an old Palestinian man. For him it is natural to buy whatever water is on the shelf. For me, I boycott the Israeli economy and would never buy Israeli water, which I call stolen water. But that is my choice, and I'm not looking to impose it on the group. For him, he secures us a bus driver from Israel who takes us on settler by pass roads, illegally built in the West Bank and boasting devastating consequences on Palestinians. For me, I protest the illegal and racist roads by always traveling on the Palestinian ones. And when I say for him, I mean for the group also. No one seems to have a problem shooting the shit with the soldiers. They stop us, a bit of racial profiling happens, one gets on board to perform for us. He asks for passports, we flash the blue. He smiles and says thanks, I don't really care. They laugh and say oh thank you! I mean, the problem isn't buying and drinking stolen water, or using by pass roads, or joking with soldiers. The problem is not thinking about how problematic these things are. They are morally problematic, though certainly they are also in other ways, and we are a group of "critical educators" who, I think, should be able to think through these things. And every time I try to start this conversation, I see how much they don't want to talk about it. Because it's easier to find Israeli water on the shelves, and it's faster and smoother to take the by pass road, and it's also sort of enjoyable to flirt with the kid and his gun. At least it speeds up the checkpoint experience, which we would also, surely, choose to avoid if we could.

In Nazareth: the Israeli Arab

Had I known how beautiful the city of Nazareth is, I'd surely have been here five years ago. In addition to being absolutely lovely, it is comforting to see a souq in the old city and hear Arabic and smell mint tea. You know, Tel Aviv showed me that in the midst of the Middle East, in a country with a 20% population of Palestinians (in response to a comment, I'll clarify that I mean a 20% population of Palestinians who hold Israeli citizenship but additionally you have Palestinians with Jerusalem ID--basically residency cards and others who live there "illegally"), one can go through daily life without ever seeing an Arab. That just seems so wrong to me. Israel occupies three territories with a total population of nearly 4 million. How amazing that I could spend two days there and never see a single Palestinian! Even on the way to Nazareth, the largest "Arab" city in Israel, I only heard Hebrew on the bus. But between you and me, the two boys behind me were Palestinian. I know this because I needed help and their English was crap and my Hebrew non existent. There is this tension, and it's really terribly sad. How can one be Palestinian and Israeli? The more I speak with Palestinians who hold Israeli citizenship, the more I realize they can't answer this question either.

A Lecture in Tel Aviv

My group went to the office of Zochrot today to hear a lecture. Zochrot is an Israeli organization which aims to educate the Jewish Israeli population about the Nakba—the Palestinian catastrophe of 1948, the forced dispossession of nearly 80% of Palestinians. Eitan, the man who spoke with our group, commented that Jewish Israelis know virtually nothing about the Nakba. They learn a very simple and particular narrative in which they were a besieged minority who rose from the ashes of the Holocaust to crush the hostile Arabs who attacked them. Eitan said that the Nakba is not only vital to recognize as the narrative of the Other, but also it is a central part of Israeli history, a central part which is wholly omitted from the national narrative. Ilan Pappe, Israeli professor and historian, has asserted a similar message, asserting that Israelis must acknowledge the realities of 1948 if they wish to understand the current situation and think through ways of moving forward.

I sat next to Eitan, and as I listened to him speak, the power of his message and the conviction of his voice moved me. He spoke as an Israeli who is concerned for the future of his nation and personal community, talking a bit about his own children and the dilemma of compulsory military service. But more importantly he spoke as a human being who believes wholly in justice and equality. He spoke of Palestinians as human beings and condemned the racism of a so called Jewish, democratic state. How is it that an Israeli who speaks of a Palestinian with compassion and understanding strikes me as so incredible? There should be nothing brave about Eitan. There should be nothing unique about his work or views, and yet his honesty and willingness to engage in reality, to fight the indoctrination of a lifetime and live his convictions so that he might demand social justice of others moved me more than I can say. Perhaps I am simply tired right now, but in this grain of hope, I see more despair that he and his work should be so striking, so uncommon.

The Question...

Last night I started a conversation with a young Israeli woman who worked in the club lounge at the Sheraton in Tel Aviv. I made conversation, asking if she lived in Tel Aviv. Yes, now she does, but she is not from here. I asked where she was from and she said I would not know it. I said to try me, but, in fact, I did not know her village. I responded, “Sorry, I have a better sense of geography for the West Bank than Israel.”

“The West Bank?!! Why do you go to the West Bank?” I told her we were traveling as a group there, but I live in Ramallah. With her strong guttural Hebrew accent she said “Ramallah?? You live in Ramallah?!!!” I smiled and nodded. The conversation continued. She told me a story about accidentally having walked into Ramallah instead of to her army base when she was stationed there for two years. She didn’t have a gun and they threw stones at her and she says they were two minutes away from killing her. Perhaps. But what she narrated as a young, scared girl being attacked and nearly murdered by savage others I tried to explain was not so innocent. She was in a soldier’s uniform. She said that if she saw a Palestinian here she would not try to kill him, so how could they try to kill an Israeli who was lost? I tried to explain that she saw Palestinians everyday, perhaps cleaning the hotel or sweeping the streets or just walking by (I’m sure she didn’t catch my inherent class / race critique). But a Palestinian in the occupied West Bank sees one Israeli: the young Israeli in military dress who, bearing a weapon, stops, harassing, threatens, beats, frightens, and controls. She was not there as a scared young woman, even as a simple Israeli. She was there as a symbol of all that oppresses Palestinians, and they were offered a unique opportunity to challenge that symbol. I’m not sure how far I got with her. But what I do know is that she wanted more than what she is fed. I know this because she asked me a question: “Is it true,” she said, “that Palestinians teach their children in classrooms how to use guns and to kill Jews?” And she did hear and process my response to that. A glimmer of hope, because at least she asked the question.

Thoughts from Tel Aviv

I find traveling in the area of Israel proper, also referred to as 1948 Israel to distinguish it from the occupied territories of 1967, a terribly challenging experience. I’m sitting now in a fancy room at a fancy hotel a dozen floors up with a stunning view of a sea that most Palestinians are forbidden from even dreaming about. Occupation is not simply checkpoints, walls, and incursions, psychological warfare is alive and well. And when dreams are all you have, they will go after those too, though it doesn’t mean they will succeed in stopping them or you. Sixty years on and people still dream of their sea and their great grandfathers’ houses.

It’s not only that I can access Palestinians’ heritage—literally, for one of the many indigenous lines of genealogy Palestinians claim is the Philistine people who were a people from the sea and who made their livelihoods of and by the sea—but that I can bathe under a high pressure shower head in this beautiful room and never think twice about the millions of Palestinians who don’t have water to shower or cook or even drink today. Two days ago we were at Dheishah Refugee Camp in Bethlehem. The water tanks were empty, and Dheishah is not at all unique in this dilemma. This is occupation. We are stuffed at this hotel on what the Sheraton proudly calls “Israeli” foods, and in these foods I recognize the remnants of Palestine—the Palestinians animals Israeli soldiers and settlers slaughter for fun, the vegetables the Israeli government denies Palestines the water to grow and the permission to harvest, and the language, dishes, and heritage stolen and appropriated. Should I stop here with my critique? It’s enough for me to think on water and food and the sea. But I couldn’t stop there, so I asked the manager how many Palestinians are working here. He burst out rather too loudly, “I should hope none!” I responded, “That is too bad and very racist.” We talked a few minutes longer. I boldly claimed that I live in Ramallah, and he brazenly informed me that what I see there is not the reality of the situation. And I have to admit, I agree.

The reality of the situation is far worse than what I see in Ramallah. The reality is what I see in Qalqilya. Here is the worst, where an entire city is surrounded by walls and electric fences and has only two points of access, both heavily controlled by Israeli soldiers with all-too-young fingers on all-too-quickly-pulled triggers. In my time here I’ve had dozens of M-16s trained on me; how many times has a single Palestinian looked at the barrel of the gun? I’ve seen a young Palestinian boy of maybe 12 slapped around with full force by stupid 18 year old Israelis in uniforms that symbolize, to me, the worst of humanity.

The worst of reality is in Jayyus where an entire village is cut off from its olive orchards—its life sustenance—on top of which the people are all denied the Israeli military permits to tend and harvest that staple fruit. Instead, the military compensates them with the gift of sight; they can stare through the lens of an apartheid structure—a complex of ditches, fence, barbwire, a patrol road, security cameras and watch towers—at their dying trees and confiscated land. The worst of reality is in Jenin where once lush and famous fields of vegetation are dry and dusty because all the water is stolen and the people are told they must buy back that stolen water but have not the money to drink it themselves. So how can they think of watering their fields? The worst is in the Bedouin camps where a nomadic people live in a cycle of demolition and reconstruction, a cat and mouse game with the Israeli military who wants them gone. But they have no where to go and so they rebuild their shacks from the piles upon piles of debris the Catepillar bulldozers leave behind. The worst of the reality is in Gaza. We read enough to know of Gaza’s incomprehensible suffering. We read and we acknowledge, and I am no different in this. Then I sit in my beautiful room with my beautiful view and I think about one question over and over again: “How can we think this is justified in any way?” A few say it’s not, but by and large, Israel truly believes it is, and the world nods in support.

But a glimmer of hope to end: Palestinians still exist. They struggle, god knows, but they are here and alive. And whether Israelis are brave enough to acknowledge the other or not, the Palestinians are here. And some Israelis are fighting a lifetime of indoctrination to take on the call of the brave. How sad that this should be such a hard task, but alas, America and Americans have done no better. A final thought: I met a 16 year old Israeli Jewish girl yesterday, and she had a message for you and all Americans. She begged you not to believe what you have been told, to recognize that every story has two sides and those two sides have many faces and the faces have shades. Dare to complicate your understanding of the world, of conflicts in it, and of this one in particular. And in that complicated, confused state, imagine that we can make this world better and that you have a responsibility in doing that. And I told her I agree completed and invited her to visit me in the occupied territories. She will come, though from one hour drive away it will be far more difficult for her to do so than it will be for you to come from half way across the world. The boundaries we build and the ones our governments graciously build to protect us from the other are so very high and so very difficult to break down. But this girl inspired me because she is tearing them down with all her strength. She offers a promise of peace, and will all the Palestinian promises I’ve seen, I might just hold on to hope!

Crossing the Jordan

Traveling in an occupied country, alongside an occupied people, is a challenging endeavor. Palestinians holding foreign (non Palestinian) passports and international travelers ("tourists") like myself are separated from those with Palestinian ids while on the Jordanian side of the border. One realizes this at a particular moment. Perhaps while at the Jordanian border control area, one questions only where one is to go and what to do. There are swarms of Arabs around buses, and yet I am directed to a bus that is apart from the swarms and to this bus I go. Aboard I hear a mix of Arabic and English, and it is familiar. Everyone has a passport. And then we cross the infamous Allenby Bridge that separates Jordan and Israel. And then the moment comes. We pass buses stopped on the Bridge, directly before the Israeli entrance. And the buses are full, windows un-openable and engine off, of waiting Palestinians. How long do they sit there? I've heard sometimes they wait days. And we pass them by, with our passports and air-conditioning. The end.

Crossing is challenging. The Israelis are amazingly capable and organized and efficient...at most things. But not at Allenby. And it took a little while, but I realized 20 minutes into the experience that it's intentional. There was no reason that the process be so chaotic, and yet it was terribly chaotic. I've been through various other border entrances to Israel, and none with the same exhausting disorganization. Oh, I'm forgetting to add something: Palestinians are forbidden by Israeli law from using those other crossings. Allenby is the infamous Palestinian crossing. By the hot and stuffy busload. Click--it all makes sense.

Israeli Settlers Attack Palestinian Shepherds

I saw a video yesterday of several masked men—Israelis from a settlement—who attacked an old Palestinian couple, shepherds grazing their flock. The BBC had been given this exclusive footage, a project of an Israeli human rights organization. And I know that the video never would have been aired in this country, and yet knowing that and even understanding why, I still don’t get it. I don’t get how we can turn a blind eye so often and to such heinousness. I don’t get how so many of us can actually believe such behavior to be defensive, justifiable, and always excusable. I don’t get how we can give such absurd amounts of money with such ridiculous mechanisms of accountability to a country whose government uses that money to continue a campaign of ethnic cleansing against indigenous people, to enable its military and citizens to violently occupy another people. I just don’t get how we keep paying our taxes, knowing that the government is using our money to make the world a more painful place for many. Watch the video (click here), and then please explain it to me because I really just can't get it.

Preparing to Return

I have lived with a family in Ramallah each time I return, and ever since I first stayed in the Holy Land four and a half years ago. Last summer I took the two older kids of this family on separate weekend trips into a land they are unable to enter. Using my passport-privilege, I can take a West Bank Palestinian child into Israel; an act the child's mother could not perform without Israeli military permissions. The land that is the heritage of these children, the sea from which their people came and the waters by which their histories have been made are forbidden places. It always has struck me as perverse that I, as a foreign tourist, can visit one of the holiest Muslim places--the Dome of the Rock and Al-Aqsa mosque--and yet a Palestinian Muslim whose holy place this is remains forbidden. Access to places, to movement, is a fundamental human right, and yet it is denied to many humans. How is that allowed in a country that is a UN member and a so called democracy? I honestly cannot understand it. When these kids turn 16 years old, they will no longer be able to pass military checkpoints with me as their chaperon. We only have a few more precious years during which time I can show them their past, and what should be their present. There is something horribly, horribly wrong in this system which bestows on a tourist the rights it systematically strips of the indigenous people. And so, I return again to live my life under occupation. A choice I get to make as a tourist. A temporary solidarity in the name of justice and the promise of peace. Meanwhile, millions of Palestinian refugees await their right of return. Millions.