Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Excessive America
I went to the bathroom this morning to wash my hands...the water was cold. After a minute of running, it turned warm, then hot. An endless supply of hot water. We have no need to turn on the hot water heater--it simply stays on...all the time. Perhaps it's more accurate to say we have no need to turn off the hot water heater. I leave the bathroom and the luxury of endless hot water (I know there's an end and we're working our hardest to find it) and move to the kitchen. Big refrigerator, huge really. And it's bursting with food that will go bad and be trashed. Excess. Everything American strikes me as over-sized and excessive. And the most beautiful part of all, we are blinded to our over-indulgence, convinced that this is natural rather than realizing that the electricity we use as well as all natural resources are available to us because they are denied to so many others. Water--we had 8 water-less days in Palestine. We won't have one here. And frankly, that's just not natural at all.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Checkpoints and humanity
Walking along the beach-side cliffs of Pacifica, my father reminds me of an article I sent him months ago—I think when the Israelis attacked Gaza in December of last year. The article invited the reader to imagine occupation by projecting something like the Israeli occupation over Tijuana. My dad stops and looks around the beautiful, green hills of Pacifica and muses: “Imagine if we had to cross checkpoints to go from state to state.” I laughed, “No dad. The checkpoints prevent us from coming these five minutes from the house to the beach, from going to the other side of Pacifica, to Daly City. They don’t separate states, the separate everything because they are internal too. And if you can cross, it’s after waiting 5 months for an expensive, precious, and typically denied permit from the military occupiers.” It’s hard for us to imagine, but I want to try to paint the picture, because I live there.
If you don’t know anything, Palestine is a historic land whose people have long suffered a history of occupation. In 1948 a new occupier came, one that the international community supported. Though the illegal occupation of Palestine began in 1967 with an Israeli military and civilian invasion of the West Bank and Gaza Strip (two areas of historic Palestine that were carved out of the land and reserved for the indigenous population while the rest of their lands were declared for the Jewish state), the colonization had begun nearly 20 years earlier—though Israel vigorously disputes the language of occupation and colonization. The occupation is a military one with checkpoints at what seems to be every turn. The UN recently reported 93-staffed checkpoints and 541 blockades, all severely inhibiting internal Palestinian movement. I was in Hebron last week and the 1.5-2 hour trip took well over 3 hours as the 3 exits out of the city were all blocked by Israeli jeeps, doors open hiding 18 year olds behind with guns trained on the waiting traffic. These impromptu-jeeps-blocking-the-roads-for-hours-stops are not included in the above numbers, though they are quite common. Security perhaps? The more one looks into this situation, the more confused the word security becomes. I used to believe that the security of one people (Israeli Jews) was achieved at the cost of another (Palestinians), but I have come to understand that no one is truly secure there. I am not asserting that they are equally insecure, by any means. There is nothing equal about occupation. But the so called security that the state of Israel talks about is truly an illusion used to justify nearly every policy against the Palestinians, when in fact, the constant violence the state inflicts on the native population means that there can be no security—only the constant need to more violently impose occupation’s control and power. I am convinced of this after years of observing, that is, living under this occupation.
It is not only checkpoints that we fail to comprehend. Physical access is only one policy. You need a permit to build, even to modify your house. We need those in America as well, but not from an occupying military who denies them at every appeal. And since your land has been confiscated for “security” purposes, you can only build up when your son needs a place for his family. Still, without that permit, both your home and the new addition face demolition. I am a teacher. Dozens of my 150 students over the last one year alone have personal stories of demolition, brothers’ being imprisoned, harassment, siege and curfew, theft of land, murder, interrogation, and the list goes on for a hundred pages. Why am I writing all of this? Because two days ago I stepped off a plane and the so-called culture shock overwhelmed me. I’m not talking about secure borders here, I’m talking about occupation’s military violence that is daily coming INTO your home, not standing at the borders of your nation. So as President Obama promises to work towards peace for Palestine and Israel, step out of the constant insistence of the media and Israel and all of her friends, that Israel must be secure, and think about the words of Rachel Corrie: “Everyone must feel safe.” This is a human right, and Palestinians are, shockingly, human too.
If you don’t know anything, Palestine is a historic land whose people have long suffered a history of occupation. In 1948 a new occupier came, one that the international community supported. Though the illegal occupation of Palestine began in 1967 with an Israeli military and civilian invasion of the West Bank and Gaza Strip (two areas of historic Palestine that were carved out of the land and reserved for the indigenous population while the rest of their lands were declared for the Jewish state), the colonization had begun nearly 20 years earlier—though Israel vigorously disputes the language of occupation and colonization. The occupation is a military one with checkpoints at what seems to be every turn. The UN recently reported 93-staffed checkpoints and 541 blockades, all severely inhibiting internal Palestinian movement. I was in Hebron last week and the 1.5-2 hour trip took well over 3 hours as the 3 exits out of the city were all blocked by Israeli jeeps, doors open hiding 18 year olds behind with guns trained on the waiting traffic. These impromptu-jeeps-blocking-the-roads-for-hours-stops are not included in the above numbers, though they are quite common. Security perhaps? The more one looks into this situation, the more confused the word security becomes. I used to believe that the security of one people (Israeli Jews) was achieved at the cost of another (Palestinians), but I have come to understand that no one is truly secure there. I am not asserting that they are equally insecure, by any means. There is nothing equal about occupation. But the so called security that the state of Israel talks about is truly an illusion used to justify nearly every policy against the Palestinians, when in fact, the constant violence the state inflicts on the native population means that there can be no security—only the constant need to more violently impose occupation’s control and power. I am convinced of this after years of observing, that is, living under this occupation.
It is not only checkpoints that we fail to comprehend. Physical access is only one policy. You need a permit to build, even to modify your house. We need those in America as well, but not from an occupying military who denies them at every appeal. And since your land has been confiscated for “security” purposes, you can only build up when your son needs a place for his family. Still, without that permit, both your home and the new addition face demolition. I am a teacher. Dozens of my 150 students over the last one year alone have personal stories of demolition, brothers’ being imprisoned, harassment, siege and curfew, theft of land, murder, interrogation, and the list goes on for a hundred pages. Why am I writing all of this? Because two days ago I stepped off a plane and the so-called culture shock overwhelmed me. I’m not talking about secure borders here, I’m talking about occupation’s military violence that is daily coming INTO your home, not standing at the borders of your nation. So as President Obama promises to work towards peace for Palestine and Israel, step out of the constant insistence of the media and Israel and all of her friends, that Israel must be secure, and think about the words of Rachel Corrie: “Everyone must feel safe.” This is a human right, and Palestinians are, shockingly, human too.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Out of Palestine
I think about leaving a lot. Not just when I feel that life there is too hard or that I need a break, but I think about the act of leaving and the implications of that choice. The key word here is choice. Realistically, it's utterly un-sustainable for me to continue on in Palestine non stop. My family is not there to start. But emotionally, no one can say living under occupation is easy. It is not like I encounter the daily checkpoints on my way to work. I choose to cross them by choosing to go to Jerusalem. Still, occupation is like cancer, spreading its poison even if it remains unseen. Emotionally, you need a break. So, okay, I get it. I need this. It's very justifiable. But politically, you GET the break. Your race, your nationality, your privilege accesses that break while all your friends deal with occupation day in and out and do not GET the choice to leave or have a holiday. Again, I get it. I need to leave to be able to continue staying and contributing, but it's just hard to deal with the leaving or maybe with what you leave behind.
Last night I went on a walk with my dad. Since arriving here, I haven't seen one soldier, one gun, one checkpoint. Just saying that makes me want to cry. We just walked this amazingly beautiful path along stunning cliffs that hung over a gorgeous sea, on the horizon of which the sun set. I walked along that path and I thought of my best friend in Palestine. I thought of the absence next to me of someone with whom I would LOVE to share this walk. I thought of the absence of someone with whom I'd love to share this city, my family, this freedom. And then that got me thinking, what do I mean by freedom. I thought a lot about this word and my meaning, and I think I mean the absence of fear. I'm not sure that really communicates my meaning, but it's closer.
I have been crossing international borders since I was 8 years old. I've NEVER been afraid until the Israeli border interrogation that traumatized me for a solid month after I left. I've never felt that I had to be afraid of my identity and the reality of my life, or life itself. Fear. And it sticks. Fear is sticky. And the Israelis are first rate at creating fear, at destroying freedom and life itself. Denying humanity. And I'm bitter. Yes, I am very bitter. Sometimes I look around and think with a laugh, this has GOT to be something I imagined. This canNOT be reality. And yet it is, this reality that is so absurdly violent and inhumane that it seems it must be a game...only the stakes are death.
Last night I went on a walk with my dad. Since arriving here, I haven't seen one soldier, one gun, one checkpoint. Just saying that makes me want to cry. We just walked this amazingly beautiful path along stunning cliffs that hung over a gorgeous sea, on the horizon of which the sun set. I walked along that path and I thought of my best friend in Palestine. I thought of the absence next to me of someone with whom I would LOVE to share this walk. I thought of the absence of someone with whom I'd love to share this city, my family, this freedom. And then that got me thinking, what do I mean by freedom. I thought a lot about this word and my meaning, and I think I mean the absence of fear. I'm not sure that really communicates my meaning, but it's closer.
I have been crossing international borders since I was 8 years old. I've NEVER been afraid until the Israeli border interrogation that traumatized me for a solid month after I left. I've never felt that I had to be afraid of my identity and the reality of my life, or life itself. Fear. And it sticks. Fear is sticky. And the Israelis are first rate at creating fear, at destroying freedom and life itself. Denying humanity. And I'm bitter. Yes, I am very bitter. Sometimes I look around and think with a laugh, this has GOT to be something I imagined. This canNOT be reality. And yet it is, this reality that is so absurdly violent and inhumane that it seems it must be a game...only the stakes are death.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Water Crisis
I get asked on occasion for my personal experience of the water crisis we constantly suffer here. I always tell people that I live in relative privilege in Ramallah and have not, to date, had to go without. All that changed this morning. We ran out of water. What do you do when you don't have water? You just wait. A friend on the other side of Ramallah gets water every 8 days. You do what you can on the day it comes, and then you wait. Fortunately, we could buy and at the very least we have other means of access. What about remote villages who have water tanks deliver to them or Gaza? 7 days doesn't seem so long when you think about the months others endure for a near nothing supply.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Guantanamo
A few days ago I had the amazing opportunity to sit next to a man who is a lawyer for Guantanamo inmates. I won't repeat his stories. But I will say that if you think you have ANY conception of the kind of violence we are inflicting on human beings in that place, think again. All I can say is god help them and god forgive us.
Hope in Palestine...
A student just came to my office and she is the third in five minutes to touch something deep inside me. It is the end of the semester and there is heavy disappointment in the air as students find that I was sadly serious at the beginning of the course when I warned that it would be a very hard class and the grades would be low. Many fail this infamously impossible course and are left severely depressed. Understandably. I handed back the last of the three major essays they write during the semester. It is worth 20% of their final grade and reflects three weeks of hard work at the end of a semester of intensive work. As I left the classroom of silent students staring at their scores, one boy walked in front of me and said, "Good. You gave me points in the good category. I am good. Good. It's the first time in one year I have this feeling. I am GOOD." I asked him if he was being sarcastic. He then exclaimed, "NO! I am good and I have waited and worked one year to hear this!" I stopped dead in my tracks. Several students near him also stopped. I said slowly, "There is something gravely wrong when a student says this. We are doing something insanely wrong if you say this after one year."
Next. Aya just left my office. As she opened the door, she turned and looked at me. She said that when she began the semester she thought to drop my class and leave the department. But she stayed. And she knows that she is stronger. In the beginning she could not write or speak well, and she knows now that she is better and she is determined to fight her way towards further improvement. I told her that I remember in the beginning of the semester seeing her and thinking how serious and sad she was. She seemed so scared to be there. But now in class she smiles and speaks out. It's amazing because her change is not limited to her writing but to her whole self. The last words were hers: "Really, I love you." And she left.
Then entered Nida. "I want to ask about my points..." I looked to her points--under 50%. Then I looked to her. "I know they are low," she said, "but I don't care. In the beginning of the semester you marked me unsatisfactory for every category on the grade sheet, but now I have two good categories! I worked so hard and I know I improved so much. I swear I don't care for the points, but just to know I improved. And I will do this course again next year and be even better!"
I find myself sitting here now, reflecting on these kids' ambition. Spectacular really. I told them in class how proud I am of their work. I told them I know I push and push and push. But they rise to meet my expectations EVERY TIME. "This is Palestine," someone whispered, "we're used to being pushed around." I smiled softly, "I know...but this is pushing to help you and look at how far you have all come! I swear I could not be more proud of you guys!"
Next. Aya just left my office. As she opened the door, she turned and looked at me. She said that when she began the semester she thought to drop my class and leave the department. But she stayed. And she knows that she is stronger. In the beginning she could not write or speak well, and she knows now that she is better and she is determined to fight her way towards further improvement. I told her that I remember in the beginning of the semester seeing her and thinking how serious and sad she was. She seemed so scared to be there. But now in class she smiles and speaks out. It's amazing because her change is not limited to her writing but to her whole self. The last words were hers: "Really, I love you." And she left.
Then entered Nida. "I want to ask about my points..." I looked to her points--under 50%. Then I looked to her. "I know they are low," she said, "but I don't care. In the beginning of the semester you marked me unsatisfactory for every category on the grade sheet, but now I have two good categories! I worked so hard and I know I improved so much. I swear I don't care for the points, but just to know I improved. And I will do this course again next year and be even better!"
I find myself sitting here now, reflecting on these kids' ambition. Spectacular really. I told them in class how proud I am of their work. I told them I know I push and push and push. But they rise to meet my expectations EVERY TIME. "This is Palestine," someone whispered, "we're used to being pushed around." I smiled softly, "I know...but this is pushing to help you and look at how far you have all come! I swear I could not be more proud of you guys!"
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Israeli Military Prohibits Literary Event
Tonight was the opening of the Palestine Festival of Literature, and while this is the second year that the Festival happens in Palestine, the ongoing celebrations for this year's "Jerusalem: The Cultural Capital of the Arab World" framed the Festival as part of a larger cultural movement. There was to be a reception from 6-6:30 followed by two groups of writers speaking to the audience. I went early for the reception as Michael Palin, all hail Monty Python, would be there and I am a long time fan. 10, maybe 15, minutes into the reception and something intense happened. I was outside of the foyer, just in the courtyard, making my way towards Michael Palin for my much anticipated introduction when four soldiers pushed into and passed me. I was a bit confused and annoyed and turned to see where they were going. It was just us in the theatre--a rather elite collection of Palestinians and ex pats all dressed up for the event and acting all literary--and thus I found myself a bit baffled by their rude entrance. All of a sudden people started pushing and saying "get inside now. go inside. hurry." We all pushed into the theatre, through the soldiers, and stood in confusion. Various individuals tried to speak to soldiers, including the boss military man, but none of them would speak to us. They just stood there. Five or six up the stairs. Outside in jeeps and vans. Three at the front door. Six at the entrance to the house of the theatre. Then I looked into the theatre and saw another several.
http://www.palfest.org
Everywhere I looked...more soldiers, standing and holding guns silently staring at us. No one knew where to go or what to do. So I turned to Michael Palin. How convenient that he was right next to me! "Hello Michael. My name is *******. I'm a teacher at *******. HUGE fan! Over a decade now, HUGE fan. We'll talk more later without the guns." He politely shook my hand and said, great. I suggested to the people around me that we just sit and get on with the event. More soldiers. Someone suggested the French Cultural Center--apparently the soldiers weren't allowed to enter there but then again they weren't supposed to enter Al Aqsa Mosque either and they did in 2001. So, we left through a back gate, passed a police van and the one hundred or so of us walked as a parade down the street five minutes to the French Cultural Center where everyone worked to through the food we'd carried into some sort of arrangement while others set up a sound system and stage. On the way a man asked in Arabic, "what happened?" I said in Arabic, "The military doesn't like literature. Pity." Still, it went off, a bit awkwardly, but nonetheless. Five minutes after the writers began reading their work to a frazzled but excited audience, one, then two, three, and four police vans pulled up in front of the Cultural Center. They stayed there with their lights flashing for a good ten minutes. After that, one stayed, just to remind us of the presence of the military and their might. They denied our presence at the first venue and challenged it at the second. Apparently the Israeli military has a security concern with literature. Who would have guessed? Actually, I did. This is the cultural occupation we hear less about but which is debilitating a people, their heritage, and the preservation of all that is dear to them.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
A Letter From My Student to Obama
Dear Mr. President:
First of all, I congratulate you on the new position. I congratulate you for the actualization of the American dream, the dream of black people and the dream of Martin Luther King Jr. Sorry Mr. President I did not see the inauguration ceremony. In that moment I was busy watching the war on Gaza and numbering the victims of children, mothers, fathers…. while you were being inaugurated.
You are one of the dreamers. You are the one who achieved the long dream for the American black people who were suffering hundreds of years. Also Palestinians have a dream. I’m Palestinian I still have hope to get to my dream, to live in peace in an independent nation as you. But I wonder how to get that dream while you support Israel like who led America prior to you by everything. During the war on Gaza you said “Israel has the right to self-defense...” What is the right you are talking about? Is it the right to brutality or the right to killing children and steal lands in Gaza and the West Bank. And you want more peace, but what kind of peace? Is it like the peace that happened in Gaza before months ago (the war on Gaza)? I think we got too much peace in the last ware on Gaza. It is not enough or what? In the final peace process a lot of children in Gaza lost their families and homes. When somebody wants to take my home do you think I will give up simply? No I will fight back what about you Mr. President? What are you going to do Mr. President? You will fight back exactly like us, as we do in Palestine. The peace you are talking about is represented in arming Israel to overwhelm us by flashy peace bombs as happened in Gaza.
Anyway, let us go to the point that you really want peace and you are the president that we waited for. You want to visit Israel to discuss the situation for peace. But prior to you many American presidents came to make peace between both Palestine and Israel, but they failed. Are you going to do the same? I hope not, and not to disappointment me because you really want peace. If you really want peace withdraw American troops from Iraq, and Afghanistan. Get them back home. In Iraq leave the land to its people and stop supporting Israel against Palestinian afterward the killing will stop. Mr. President be the one who makes unforgettable differences and memorable changes to be remembered forever. Mr. President you can make changes in the region if you really want. Here I’m not asking you to bring troops to get back our stolen lands. I’m asking you to be clear, to stop Israel from stealing land and building new settlements, to put away all plans that were established by others, because these plans indeed won’t bring peace. But if you choice one of these plans like “Annapolis” or “The Road Map” we will see more peace bombs, another war, and more homeless children and families. Mr. President we are humans just like you. We have two legs, two hands, eyes. When you visit us you will see. The thing which I cannot understand is why you are supporting and arming Israel, not Palestinians or Palestine and for what? Can you tell me Mr. President? Is this because we don’t deserve life? However, Mr. President I know your previous president left you a hard mission and many things to repair them. I wish happiness and a good life for you during your presidency. Don’t forget we have a dream that I hope someday will come. I hope this day comes in your time and then peace and peace.
Salem Nazzal, Student
Palestine
First of all, I congratulate you on the new position. I congratulate you for the actualization of the American dream, the dream of black people and the dream of Martin Luther King Jr. Sorry Mr. President I did not see the inauguration ceremony. In that moment I was busy watching the war on Gaza and numbering the victims of children, mothers, fathers…. while you were being inaugurated.
You are one of the dreamers. You are the one who achieved the long dream for the American black people who were suffering hundreds of years. Also Palestinians have a dream. I’m Palestinian I still have hope to get to my dream, to live in peace in an independent nation as you. But I wonder how to get that dream while you support Israel like who led America prior to you by everything. During the war on Gaza you said “Israel has the right to self-defense...” What is the right you are talking about? Is it the right to brutality or the right to killing children and steal lands in Gaza and the West Bank. And you want more peace, but what kind of peace? Is it like the peace that happened in Gaza before months ago (the war on Gaza)? I think we got too much peace in the last ware on Gaza. It is not enough or what? In the final peace process a lot of children in Gaza lost their families and homes. When somebody wants to take my home do you think I will give up simply? No I will fight back what about you Mr. President? What are you going to do Mr. President? You will fight back exactly like us, as we do in Palestine. The peace you are talking about is represented in arming Israel to overwhelm us by flashy peace bombs as happened in Gaza.
Anyway, let us go to the point that you really want peace and you are the president that we waited for. You want to visit Israel to discuss the situation for peace. But prior to you many American presidents came to make peace between both Palestine and Israel, but they failed. Are you going to do the same? I hope not, and not to disappointment me because you really want peace. If you really want peace withdraw American troops from Iraq, and Afghanistan. Get them back home. In Iraq leave the land to its people and stop supporting Israel against Palestinian afterward the killing will stop. Mr. President be the one who makes unforgettable differences and memorable changes to be remembered forever. Mr. President you can make changes in the region if you really want. Here I’m not asking you to bring troops to get back our stolen lands. I’m asking you to be clear, to stop Israel from stealing land and building new settlements, to put away all plans that were established by others, because these plans indeed won’t bring peace. But if you choice one of these plans like “Annapolis” or “The Road Map” we will see more peace bombs, another war, and more homeless children and families. Mr. President we are humans just like you. We have two legs, two hands, eyes. When you visit us you will see. The thing which I cannot understand is why you are supporting and arming Israel, not Palestinians or Palestine and for what? Can you tell me Mr. President? Is this because we don’t deserve life? However, Mr. President I know your previous president left you a hard mission and many things to repair them. I wish happiness and a good life for you during your presidency. Don’t forget we have a dream that I hope someday will come. I hope this day comes in your time and then peace and peace.
Salem Nazzal, Student
Palestine
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Petra and Palestine
Went to Petra. So amazing. I am still reeling from the experience. Whenever I step out of occupied Palestine, I can’t help but weep for Palestine and the people who have suffered so greatly for so long. If only they could be given an honest chance at life, what could Palestine be?
Denying Life
For as long as I have been coming, which is over five years now, I have never met her husband. For as long as I have been coming, he has been trying to get back inside this country. Thousands in plane tickets and lawyer fees to try and try to get back to his family. I know Wafa and her kids very well—she’s family. After years of trying to get in, he finally succeeded. I couldn’t believe it. She had her husband again and the youngest got to meet his father. They finally had their dad in the flesh to be their dad again. Only two months of being a family. He died a few days ago of a heart attack. He was young, and everything seems wrong. Two months of a dad. Two months of a husband. Two months on his land. They were deprived of each other for years, and then when the occupation stopped saying no, fate stepped in.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Israeli Post Censored
Sometimes we imagine that a comparison between other historical experiences and the ones in Palestine are useful. And perhaps they can be. I'm thinking now of the occupation of Iraq and that of Palestine. But the big difference, as I see it, is that Iraq's occupation is primarily military. Here, the military is just one of so many mechanisms that serve to reproduce a complex and devastatingly violent occupation whose aim is not "reconstruction" or, even along more sinister lines, the control of oil. Here, the Israeli occupation is obsessed with making the Palestinian life absolutely un-liveable.
I just opened a package. I had mailed it to myself because I cannot carry even my own writings as they are politically "threatening"--talking about occupation and power structures in Historic Palestine. Hence, mailing them to myself. It took far longer than it should have, but I just opened the documents about ten minutes ago. What did I find? Every single hand written comment or correction my professor had made was whited out. The pages are full of white strips covering the ink. Why? I really really struggle to understand how we can live in a world where that question has no meaningful answer. And that is the case here in Palestine. Why? Who knows?! To let me know they read it? To annoy me? What? I mean, really, how threatening can some grad student paper be to a state that they should censor it? All I can think of is that it's a game to them. Some 18 year old in an office with a white out pen and piles of documents. What a waste of energy! And for what? To remind me that they're watching me. To remind me that my own thoughts only exist within the box they have created, the prison around Palestine. To remind me that occupation and ethnic cleansing here is of a special breed: force them out by making every aspect of life unbearable, even, or perhaps especially, education.
I just opened a package. I had mailed it to myself because I cannot carry even my own writings as they are politically "threatening"--talking about occupation and power structures in Historic Palestine. Hence, mailing them to myself. It took far longer than it should have, but I just opened the documents about ten minutes ago. What did I find? Every single hand written comment or correction my professor had made was whited out. The pages are full of white strips covering the ink. Why? I really really struggle to understand how we can live in a world where that question has no meaningful answer. And that is the case here in Palestine. Why? Who knows?! To let me know they read it? To annoy me? What? I mean, really, how threatening can some grad student paper be to a state that they should censor it? All I can think of is that it's a game to them. Some 18 year old in an office with a white out pen and piles of documents. What a waste of energy! And for what? To remind me that they're watching me. To remind me that my own thoughts only exist within the box they have created, the prison around Palestine. To remind me that occupation and ethnic cleansing here is of a special breed: force them out by making every aspect of life unbearable, even, or perhaps especially, education.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Wadi Joz
Yesterday I went to Bethlehem to visit a friend. I made a comment about the route I’d taken and she was shocked, “You cannot go on that road,” she chided, “it is illegal for Israelis and foreigners.” I understood immediately. The road I traveled is called Wadi Joz. It links Ramallah to the south—Bethlehem and then Hebron. Wadi Joz is a dangerous road because of its severe angle and sharp turns but to make it a proper death trap there are parts that are hardly wide enough for a single car. Imagine trucks and buses winding down the wadi (valley or gulley) at a snail’s pace and then imagine adding to this dangerously steep and winding road the problems that come with oncoming traffic on narrow roads. Needless to say, I was sick to my stomach with fear. Of course Israel doesn’t want Israelis and internationals on such a dangerous road! There is a clear spectrum of human value and my life is too precious to put in the danger that every Palestinian who travel north of Bethlehem must face.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Closing Our Eyes
Sometimes I look around and wonder, "How the hell are we living like this?" I'm writing at this moment because I feel so overwhelmed. With every ounce of effort, we try to maintain some semblance of normalcy in our lives...university and homework, grocery shopping, picking the kids up from school. But we are rats in a cage under a lethal experiment and there is really nothing normal about this and there never ever should be.
It can be easy in Ramallah to forget about the cage. Sometimes you don't feel the occupation because you don't see it. I had my students write on Silwan, a neighborhood in Jerusalem, where 88 houses in which 1,500 people live, are under demolition orders. Ramallah was supposed to participate with all of Palestine in a general strike. I asked the students to tell me why there was a strike and what they were doing. A few participated in demonstrations, but most blamed the weather and their sense of powerlessness for their choice to abstain. We have the luxury here to ignore, to choose not to participate, but most in Palestine do not have this luxury because guns, soldiers, tanks, and violence are daily realities.
It can be easy in Ramallah to forget about the cage. Sometimes you don't feel the occupation because you don't see it. I had my students write on Silwan, a neighborhood in Jerusalem, where 88 houses in which 1,500 people live, are under demolition orders. Ramallah was supposed to participate with all of Palestine in a general strike. I asked the students to tell me why there was a strike and what they were doing. A few participated in demonstrations, but most blamed the weather and their sense of powerlessness for their choice to abstain. We have the luxury here to ignore, to choose not to participate, but most in Palestine do not have this luxury because guns, soldiers, tanks, and violence are daily realities.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Inspired?
I’m listening to music from the play Les Miserables, and with that soundtrack of oppression, injustice, and suffering in the background, I’m reading and grading students’ work. Three weeks ago I assigned my class an interview. They were to find someone who lived through the Nakba and converse with that person, paying particular attention to that survivor’s personal experience as an individual and part of a community, as well as think about the way the Nakba of 1948 is still present today.
These stories are heart-breaking. I gave the same assignment last semester and remember crying half way through, breaking down under the weight of so much grief and suffering. But more than the pain of the past is its presence in the present. 60 years on, nearly 61, and people are still waiting for justice. It is an active waiting in Palestine which asserts itself as resistance against historical wrong doings that have evolved into an intricate and violent occupation which seeps like rotten water into the crevices of daily life, infecting everything with disease. And to whom should the Palestinians look for justice? Hilary Clinton visited last week, presenting a harsh contrast between Obama’s foreign policy and his false message of change. Salam Fayyad (Palestinian Prime Minister) resigned on Saturday, reminding us that the Palestinian Authority is overgrown with deep-rooted corruption and failure. They have so little power under occupation, but what they do have is used to benefit the rich and the few. Israel becomes more conservative by the year, believing the occupation to be justified and the lone option for maintaining its so called security. So, where do we look for salvation in Palestine? Is it really a miracle that we need? In the 21st century, does it take a divine miracle to end state oppression and violent militarism?
I spend so much time working with my students to activate in them a political consciousness, and I realized last week that rather than inspiring them I am debilitating them. When I recognized their hopelessness, I tried to move them to hope but I found myself at a loss for words. I do believe. I do have hope. But I’m not sure how realistic it is. Certainly Obama will be the same coward we saw in Bush and Clinton and every other president before them back to Truman, kissing the ground Israel desecrates. The leadership here does not merit its title. The people suffer greatly. Malnutrition, thirst, poverty, and worst of all, hopelessness. So, what shall we believe? What shall we say? How can we change our reality?
These stories are heart-breaking. I gave the same assignment last semester and remember crying half way through, breaking down under the weight of so much grief and suffering. But more than the pain of the past is its presence in the present. 60 years on, nearly 61, and people are still waiting for justice. It is an active waiting in Palestine which asserts itself as resistance against historical wrong doings that have evolved into an intricate and violent occupation which seeps like rotten water into the crevices of daily life, infecting everything with disease. And to whom should the Palestinians look for justice? Hilary Clinton visited last week, presenting a harsh contrast between Obama’s foreign policy and his false message of change. Salam Fayyad (Palestinian Prime Minister) resigned on Saturday, reminding us that the Palestinian Authority is overgrown with deep-rooted corruption and failure. They have so little power under occupation, but what they do have is used to benefit the rich and the few. Israel becomes more conservative by the year, believing the occupation to be justified and the lone option for maintaining its so called security. So, where do we look for salvation in Palestine? Is it really a miracle that we need? In the 21st century, does it take a divine miracle to end state oppression and violent militarism?
I spend so much time working with my students to activate in them a political consciousness, and I realized last week that rather than inspiring them I am debilitating them. When I recognized their hopelessness, I tried to move them to hope but I found myself at a loss for words. I do believe. I do have hope. But I’m not sure how realistic it is. Certainly Obama will be the same coward we saw in Bush and Clinton and every other president before them back to Truman, kissing the ground Israel desecrates. The leadership here does not merit its title. The people suffer greatly. Malnutrition, thirst, poverty, and worst of all, hopelessness. So, what shall we believe? What shall we say? How can we change our reality?
Monday, March 2, 2009
Snow and Blood
I keep saying "I'm going to blog today" and not doing it, so finally I am forcing myself to take the time to write these thoughts. It snowed on Sunday morning. Thick and fluffy and white. It was so beautiful and for the hour that the it lasted, with its pure layer thinly covering everything, Palestine felt clean and pure. Then it melted, and became a sloshy, wetness and reality hit me: this is occupied Palestine no matter how magical the snow may feel--it does not clean away the filth and violence of occupation.
Last Friday in a village in the north, the Israeli soldiers came and occupied a house. It was an old house, dating to Roman times. They kicked the family out and occupied it. They said it was holy to the Jews, and they had a military order, which they had written, that was supposed to be evidence of a higher power's declaration that the imagined significance of this house is greater than the rights of the family who owned it. As it turns out, generations and generations ago, a Jewish woman married a man who lived in the house. He buried his wife in the garden, and to this Jewish woman, settlers will come and pay homage. She was not of any religious importance. Her value is located in her blood--Jews must reinvent their claim to the land and she will now be used, her body and her memory manipulated to serve a political purpose. Is nothing sacred here? Under occupation, the only question is how to "purify" the land.
Last Friday in a village in the north, the Israeli soldiers came and occupied a house. It was an old house, dating to Roman times. They kicked the family out and occupied it. They said it was holy to the Jews, and they had a military order, which they had written, that was supposed to be evidence of a higher power's declaration that the imagined significance of this house is greater than the rights of the family who owned it. As it turns out, generations and generations ago, a Jewish woman married a man who lived in the house. He buried his wife in the garden, and to this Jewish woman, settlers will come and pay homage. She was not of any religious importance. Her value is located in her blood--Jews must reinvent their claim to the land and she will now be used, her body and her memory manipulated to serve a political purpose. Is nothing sacred here? Under occupation, the only question is how to "purify" the land.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Boycotting Israel
I am pleased to report the first US university to divest from Israel: http://stopthewall.org/worldwideactivism/1846.shtml I can only hope that this is a trend that offers an economic tool to pressure Israel into a more just situation than the current occupation and racism within its state offer.
I'm a vegetarian, and I love tofu. But the only tofu I can get in Palestine comes from East Jerusalem and is in a can, which is completely unappetizing to me. There are health food stores in West Jerusalem where I can find fresh tofu, but the problem is I boycott the Israeli economy in as much as is possible. Yesterday in Tel Aviv I was hanging out with an Israeli who lives in the city. He is vegan. And I told him how much I miss tofu, so he directed me to a store down the street where I can buy tofu. I told him I can't because I boycott Israeli products and stores. He reminded me of what I know all too well: it's impossible. Not simply because I was in Israel itself, but because there is a deeply entrenched occupation that controls the products on Palestinian shelves. In East Jerusalem--legally Palestine--one cannot find the most basic Palestinian products like water. In Ramallah I can but the majority of products are Israeli and those that aren't still have to go through Israel to get to us, which means ultimately that the Israeli economy benefits. Nonetheless I believe whole-heartedly that we who live in Palestine should do our best to support the Palestinian economy and not the Israeli one. It just doesn't make sense to fund the occupation. And while it is so challenging to boycott Israeli products here because they are sometimes the only option, outside of Palestine and Israel it is much much easier. I hope that people around the world join in the growing BDS movement and use their buying power to fight injustice and apartheid. Here's a list of companies who support Israel. I hope it helps you start daily demanding justice in this simple but vital way:
I'm a vegetarian, and I love tofu. But the only tofu I can get in Palestine comes from East Jerusalem and is in a can, which is completely unappetizing to me. There are health food stores in West Jerusalem where I can find fresh tofu, but the problem is I boycott the Israeli economy in as much as is possible. Yesterday in Tel Aviv I was hanging out with an Israeli who lives in the city. He is vegan. And I told him how much I miss tofu, so he directed me to a store down the street where I can buy tofu. I told him I can't because I boycott Israeli products and stores. He reminded me of what I know all too well: it's impossible. Not simply because I was in Israel itself, but because there is a deeply entrenched occupation that controls the products on Palestinian shelves. In East Jerusalem--legally Palestine--one cannot find the most basic Palestinian products like water. In Ramallah I can but the majority of products are Israeli and those that aren't still have to go through Israel to get to us, which means ultimately that the Israeli economy benefits. Nonetheless I believe whole-heartedly that we who live in Palestine should do our best to support the Palestinian economy and not the Israeli one. It just doesn't make sense to fund the occupation. And while it is so challenging to boycott Israeli products here because they are sometimes the only option, outside of Palestine and Israel it is much much easier. I hope that people around the world join in the growing BDS movement and use their buying power to fight injustice and apartheid. Here's a list of companies who support Israel. I hope it helps you start daily demanding justice in this simple but vital way:
Friday, February 6, 2009
One Prisoner Back on the Streets
Last night a man of 27 was outside my house. He was surrounded with maybe fifty family and friends who were celebrating his return. They stood outside all talking with intense energy and enthusiasm, for this man of 27 was released from Israeli prison yesterday after 6 years there. He was apparently held for a conspiracy against a soldier. I don’t think the way forward in this situation is to blame others. That said, we exist within systems of power relations, and these systems often bind us to certain roles and possibilities. He may or may not have been responsible for planning or was part of the executing of a plan to kill an Israeli soldier. I don’t know, and I don’t care. The point is that there is a cycle of violence here, and not one that we can easily dismiss as intractable and incomprehensible. There is an explanation for conspiracies against soldiers or the state. There is a brutal military occupation of the Palestinian land and people that is enforced everyday by those two mechanisms. This man was bred to violence. Now that may seem a highly contestable claim, but he was in fact born into a violent existence, one created by occupation. The soldier is the symbol of Palestinian oppression and so it makes sense to hate that symbol and to want to destroy it. He may have participated in a conspiracy, and he is accountable for that violence, but that violence cannot be stopped with six years in prison, or even a hundred. It can only be stopped with the violence to which it responds also stops. Only then can 20 year old young men live their lives instead of being defined as symbols of violence.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
I'm Back
I’m not sure where to start. I’m back in Palestine. The first change I noticed was when I entered Israel, all of the Israeli soldiers, staff, and passport control especially, were so friendly to me. A lot of friends have asked me how I thought Gaza would affect my ability to enter Israel and return to Palestine (for those who don’t know, the occupation of Palestine means that anyone coming to Palestine enters through Israel and their passport control before crossing into Palestine, which has no air, land or sea control). I answered frankly that I didn’t know. I didn’t have any idea if entering would be more difficult or what. My experience says Israel is giving itself a makeover, embodied in that line repeated to me a good six times as I went through security and passport control: “Welcome to Israel.” My analysis is that the image of Israel is so poor after their massacring the people of Gaza that this is one of Israel’s attempts at rectifying the damage. The problem is, the damage is not just one of image. The damage is someone’s home that they built after 20 years of saving their salaries. The schools destroyed. The mosques decimated. The brothers, the daughters, and grandmothers dead. The father who lost his legs and the mother who lost her skin. The child who lost her eyes. The burned school books and pictures. The clothes and food supplies. Life. The health, safety, education, and future of an entire people. Maybe more than those futures are their presents. No shelter, no food or water, no mother or brother now. All dead, destroyed, massacred. Wouldn’t it be incredible if fixing the damage was an honest endeavor, not about branding Israel differently but of rebuilding lives and changing a decades long policy of ethnic cleansing. That sounds so simple that it rings of absurdity. And yet, how is it that halting violent ethnic cleansing could possibly sound absurd?
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
The Privilege to be Blind
Talking to an Israeli friend this morning. He said somewhat casually, "Yea, I didn't even know there was a war. A friend asked what I thought about it, and I had to ask him, what war?"
I laughed in shock and said to him, "Isn't that incredible!"
He replied that it wasn't really because he doesn't pay any attention to the news.
So, I elaborated, "No, isn't it incredible that you are bombing the shit out of people less than an hour from your house, and you don't even know about it. You shouldn't have to turn on the news or look at the papers. You should know about it because at night you can see the light in the sky. Everyone is talking about it. Come on! Just think about it, you have the privilege to ignore the news, to ignore the violence. And what a privilege!"
He responded that most people have that privilege to which I retorted rather rudely, "Not the more than one million people in Gaza whose houses and schools and families you are bombing the shit out of!" And it's true, right? I mean, every life is sacred. But 10 dead, with only three civilians and four of the soldiers being killed by "friendly" fire, the loss--while tragic--is minimal compared to the more than 1,000 Gazans dead and 5,000 wounded. I guess my point is that at least my friend can ignore afford to ignore it.
Although he did mention that an emergency alarm was sounded in Jerusalem today. He said he was scared to death and didn't know where to hide. Turns out it was a mistake and went off accidently. The contrast is just absurd.
I laughed in shock and said to him, "Isn't that incredible!"
He replied that it wasn't really because he doesn't pay any attention to the news.
So, I elaborated, "No, isn't it incredible that you are bombing the shit out of people less than an hour from your house, and you don't even know about it. You shouldn't have to turn on the news or look at the papers. You should know about it because at night you can see the light in the sky. Everyone is talking about it. Come on! Just think about it, you have the privilege to ignore the news, to ignore the violence. And what a privilege!"
He responded that most people have that privilege to which I retorted rather rudely, "Not the more than one million people in Gaza whose houses and schools and families you are bombing the shit out of!" And it's true, right? I mean, every life is sacred. But 10 dead, with only three civilians and four of the soldiers being killed by "friendly" fire, the loss--while tragic--is minimal compared to the more than 1,000 Gazans dead and 5,000 wounded. I guess my point is that at least my friend can ignore afford to ignore it.
Although he did mention that an emergency alarm was sounded in Jerusalem today. He said he was scared to death and didn't know where to hide. Turns out it was a mistake and went off accidently. The contrast is just absurd.
Monday, January 12, 2009
The Jewish State
If I called the US State Department to inquire about a work visa for a non US citizen whom I wish to employ and were asked if he was black, I would most certainly be shocked by the question and definitely challenge the racism so obvious in such a question. The race, religion, sexuality or gender of any individual who has the skills and experience to be employed are absolutely irrelevant, and moreover illegal to question.
But when an Israeli citizen recently called the Israeli Ministry of Interior to inquire about a work visa for me, he was given some information and then abruptly asked, “Is she Jewish?” My jaw dropped. This would surely be labeled racism were it asked here in the US, but in the Jewish state of Israel, it is practically natural that a Jew could be given a work visa without question yet a non Jew would experience a far more difficult process. How is it possible that now, in the 21st century, a state that privilege an entire race and religion over all others, including both the indigenous people and American citizens, whose money is the largest support Israel receives, is virtually accepted around the world? I think it’s been far long enough and we must stop and think about this exclusive state whose every structure is inherently racist.
As I sat in a Jerusalem bar last week, I struck up conversation with a French tourist. Much of his family had declared aliya (the law that allows any Jew in the world to gain citizenship almost immediately by declaring his “return” home) and lived in Israel. I asked if he planned to do the same. He said no, he was not really Jewish, at least, he clarified, in terms of religion. But he was racially Jewish. So, I asked what he thought of the Jewish State and he told me that it was necessary for Jews to have a safe place since they were unwelcomed throughout the world. Christians, he continued, could go anywhere, but not Jews. I challenged this claim and he responded that he had traveled extensively and never been threatened, and he was a Christian. I was confused. He said he was Jewish. A Christian Jew. But the question remained, how could he invok the Christian part of his identity and credit this with his safety? He said he was a white European and for this reason he was safe. But, I thought, most of the Jewish Israelis I saw were white Europeans, so which Jews were unsafe? Which Jews did Israel exist for? He was a bit confused by this point as well, but maintained that there was nothing racist about having a Jewish state. The US was a Christian state, he asserted. Okay, well, not really, but nonetheless, is Israel a religiously Jewish state or a racially Jewish state? A little of both, but here’s the crux, you don’t have to be a religious Jew to declare Aliya, you just have to prove to be racially Jewish. An Israeli citizen I know was asked if he is Israeli Israeli or Palestinian Israeli; apparently the former means pure Israeli, that is to say Jewish. Can you imagine if American American signified a “pure,” white American as opposed to a Black American? I can because it was not so long ago that “African” Americans were less than those imagined to be American Americans. We’ve come a long way in America, but not far enough. And since I can’t imagine the State Department questioning my race and using that to deny me a work visa, I don’t think we should so easily accept when any other state uses such categories to discriminate most and privilege some.
On Monday, the Israel Central Election Committee banned Arab political parties from running in the upcoming elections. Citizens of the state are no allowed to run for office because of their race. Imagine…but wait, in this country we can simply remember.
But when an Israeli citizen recently called the Israeli Ministry of Interior to inquire about a work visa for me, he was given some information and then abruptly asked, “Is she Jewish?” My jaw dropped. This would surely be labeled racism were it asked here in the US, but in the Jewish state of Israel, it is practically natural that a Jew could be given a work visa without question yet a non Jew would experience a far more difficult process. How is it possible that now, in the 21st century, a state that privilege an entire race and religion over all others, including both the indigenous people and American citizens, whose money is the largest support Israel receives, is virtually accepted around the world? I think it’s been far long enough and we must stop and think about this exclusive state whose every structure is inherently racist.
As I sat in a Jerusalem bar last week, I struck up conversation with a French tourist. Much of his family had declared aliya (the law that allows any Jew in the world to gain citizenship almost immediately by declaring his “return” home) and lived in Israel. I asked if he planned to do the same. He said no, he was not really Jewish, at least, he clarified, in terms of religion. But he was racially Jewish. So, I asked what he thought of the Jewish State and he told me that it was necessary for Jews to have a safe place since they were unwelcomed throughout the world. Christians, he continued, could go anywhere, but not Jews. I challenged this claim and he responded that he had traveled extensively and never been threatened, and he was a Christian. I was confused. He said he was Jewish. A Christian Jew. But the question remained, how could he invok the Christian part of his identity and credit this with his safety? He said he was a white European and for this reason he was safe. But, I thought, most of the Jewish Israelis I saw were white Europeans, so which Jews were unsafe? Which Jews did Israel exist for? He was a bit confused by this point as well, but maintained that there was nothing racist about having a Jewish state. The US was a Christian state, he asserted. Okay, well, not really, but nonetheless, is Israel a religiously Jewish state or a racially Jewish state? A little of both, but here’s the crux, you don’t have to be a religious Jew to declare Aliya, you just have to prove to be racially Jewish. An Israeli citizen I know was asked if he is Israeli Israeli or Palestinian Israeli; apparently the former means pure Israeli, that is to say Jewish. Can you imagine if American American signified a “pure,” white American as opposed to a Black American? I can because it was not so long ago that “African” Americans were less than those imagined to be American Americans. We’ve come a long way in America, but not far enough. And since I can’t imagine the State Department questioning my race and using that to deny me a work visa, I don’t think we should so easily accept when any other state uses such categories to discriminate most and privilege some.
On Monday, the Israel Central Election Committee banned Arab political parties from running in the upcoming elections. Citizens of the state are no allowed to run for office because of their race. Imagine…but wait, in this country we can simply remember.
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