Jenin

The landscape in Jenin is beautiful, vast tracts of farm land and hills with a tinge of a desert look. Grape vines, olive trees, corn, tomatoes, zucchini, and other greens abound in the fields. Like many other places in the West Bank, the scene is broken by the presence of a wall or electric fence.

From a distance one can follow the path of this wall, simply by following the cut line of earth on the mountain or valley. It’s easy to see.

The wall, as you know, separates Israel and Palestine. To some degree one could say that Israel has the right to protect itself, so building a wall is fine. But what about when Israel builds the wall several kilometers beyond the border, confiscating vast tracts of precious Palestinian farm land and aquifers? (That’s mostly the case; Israel builds the wall far beyond the Green Line taking land from Palestine.) And what about solving the conflict? It’s not possible to solve the conflict without dialogue, without contact. The wall cuts this direct contact, the possibility of contact.

All of the people we visited told us stories about how their village was reduced in size from 50,000 dunums (donum=1,000 sq. meters) to 5,000 dunums, from 36,000 dunums to 3,000 dunums. Then, when the wall was built, another 700 dunums were confiscated. Then, there’s not water in the village.

“Why?” we ask.

“Israel took control of the wells we had. Now we have to buy water from them. If we don’t buy water from the wells that were once ours, we have to buy water from water companies, which are Israeli anyway. Now our harvest is only 15% of what it used to be, and most of our land is on the other side of the wall.”

“But, why don’t you dig another well?”

“You need a permit from Israel to do that. And I don’t know of a single case where a well permit was approved.”

As you know, there are a lot of checkpoints in Palestine. In Jenin, all entrances and exits to Jenin city are controlled by Israel. Then there are a number of flying checkpoints. In all of Palestine there are roughly 200 flying checkpoints. These flying checkpoints consist of a few Hummers and several soldiers who decide when and where to set up a checkpoint.

Ali told us a story, a sad one. Five years ago his wife was pregnant and she needed to get to the hospital to get an operation (C-Section?). At this time it was forbidden to go to Jenin. “I tried to reach the hospital many times. But the Israelian soldiers forbid us. What I will do?”

“I failed.”

“When I felt that my wife would die, I went through the mountains…
…we reached the hospital and they checked my wife and said the baby was dead.”

“Return before two days and we will do the operation and save your wife.”

“After one day they made the operation… I took the baby back to the land to put it under the earth. My wife stayed at the hospital. Then she was not allowed to return. I was in my village, she was in Jenin, and we could not see each other.”

“I don’t hate the Israelian people; I don’t hate anyone in the world. I believe in peace.”

“I have a message. Don’t be closed-minded. Search the facts. Most of the people in the Middle East hate your people. Why is that? Because, what happened in Iraq, what happened in Palestine, here. I know you people didn’t do anything. But it’s bad for us. For that I don’t hate. Because I know the fact. I can’t be foolish… I can’t be foolish.”

Jenin coming soon...

Qalandiya Checkpoint

Gaza

Bir Zeit is a quiet town nestled on two hills divided by a wide valley. In the evening, as the sun sets, warm red light bathes the competing hillsides in color. The falafel is good and the pita is cheap. Olive trees dot the surrounding landscape. Children play in the streets. Gaza is just a few dozen kilometers away, yet this place seems a world away. It feels free of violence. Perhaps even more comforting than its distance from the violence of Gaza is Bir Zeit’s refreshing absence of walls and checkpoints, soldiers and settlements.

That’s the thing about apartheid, the thing about cantons and separation-wealth and prosperity, violence and relative peace, oppression and freedom can exist side by side without much of an effect on one another. In the last few weeks we have received a number of emails and phone calls from family and friends expressing concern for our safety, of course in light of the recent turmoil in Gaza. What most people don’t understand is the level of separation between the West Bank and Gaza and even within the West Bank.

For all practical purposes the West Bank and Gaza might as well be on opposite sides of the world. It is nearly impossible for Palestinians and extremely difficult for internationals to visit Gaza at all. This stems from a common misconception about the situation in Gaza today: that it is in any sense an autonomous territory, the misconception that with the 2004 disengagement the occupation of Gaza ended. It is interesting to note that while the Western media hailed Prime Minister Ariel Sharon as a hero for peace with the unilateral disengagement from Gaza even the term "disengagement" partially exposes the reality of situation. The disengagement was not a withdrawal or a transfer of administrative power with the establishment and enforcement of self-determination in Gaza. It was a sly political move on Israel’s part to divert attention from its rapid colonial expansion in the West Bank as well as a response to the relative difficulty of internally occupying such a territory.

Gaza is grossly overcrowded and primarily desert-not exactly land worth annexing. The number of settlers in Gaza (around 10,000), pre-disengagement, paled in comparison to the over 400,000 settlers in the West Bank and East Jerusalem and the incentive of diverting international attention away from the West Bank far outweighed the difficulties of disengaging. What’s important to understand is that the disengagement was just that-a disengagement from internal occupation of Gaza to a cheaper external occupation. Today, Gaza is commonly accurately referred to as an "open-air prison."

Before the disengagement Gaza was under internal military occupation by the IOF (Israeli Occupation Forces). This, in addition to walls and checkpoints surrounding the territory and the fact the Israel controlled all travel into and out of Gaza as well as the sea on the western shore, and all trade into and out of Gaza. With the disengagement the situation in Gaza shifted from a direct military occupation alongside the illegal annexation of land through settlements to a more indirect canton style occupation. Israel still controls 100% of travel into and out of Gaza as well as trade and regulation of water use. Walls still surround Gaza and anyone, Palestinian or otherwise, still must apply for a permit, issued by the Israeli government, in order to enter Gaza. These are some of the daily controls exerted on the Palestinians of Gaza-many haven’t seen family that live just a short drive away in the West Bank for years. Some traveled to Gaza, leaving their families and ended up stranded, not allowed to exit Gaza. And still others were "deported" to Gaza for offenses as minor as being involved in a banned "political organization" or stone throwing. The dehumanization and repression of the Gazan Palestinians is one of the most explicit and barbaric human rights abuses taking place in the world today.

And then perhaps even more traumatic than the apartheid controls on Gaza are the frequent military incursions. This comes in various forms-direct military invasion, shelling, bombing, targeted assassinations, kidnappings, and regular sonic booms over crowded Gazan cities. The consequent physical and psychological trauma is massive. Children and innocent civilians are the primary victims of Israeli violence in Gaza.

At this point Gaza is under the control of Hamas-the Islamic movement that was democratically elected in January 2006. Almost immediately after the elections Israel and the West began a process of demonizing, sanctioning, imprisoning and assassinating the elected members of Hamas in addition to heavily supporting the Fatah movement (which was founded on a similar ethos as Hamas). The sanctions that followed the 2006 elections crippled the Palestinian economy and drove Hamas and other Islamic organizations to unprecedented levels of extremism. The most recent development was the dissolution of the recently formed unity (Hamas-Fatah) government alongside the formation of a disparate, Fatah controlled government in the West Bank. It does not look like things will get better in Gaza any time soon. Whatever one’s view on the policies of Hamas the events since January 2006 mark the beginning and the end of the first ever democratically elected Islamic movement. In any case the West along with Israel has proven that it has no interest in working to moderate Islamic political parties, democratically elected or not. It seems pro-Western/Israeli policy trumps democracy when it comes down to it.

Keep Gaza in your thoughts and prayers. There is a lot going on in Gaza today. There is a lot of violence, a lot of suffering and oppression, a lot of death. Hope for the violence to cease, the walls of oppression to fall, and life to be renewed.

Intermission

We are doing well. Thanks for your support, concern, and prayers. We have posts coming, but technology is giving us some trouble. I promise a real long post is coming soon! Thanks for checking in on us on the blog!

Hassan

Hassan’s ivy green eye’s flashed in the sunlight as he peered around the door to his house into the street and said “hello!” In Deheishe refugee camp streets are more like alleyways and running water is a luxury left to the whim of the gods. I responded in Arabic, “marhaba.” Hello. His curious face brightened and he smiled as he reached for my hand. Doors in Deheishe are beautiful. Each seems to have its own unique flare. Deep emerald greens. The swooping flow of green Arabic graffiti on vibrant orange. Speckled red rust like stars in a sky of navy blue. The camp—which is more like a massive dilapidated neighborhood than a camp in any sense—is a paradox of beauty and depravity. Like a white orchid in the desert, a rose in a rock bed, glints of beauty haunt Deheishe. The people and their uninhibited hospitality. The colorful doors. The occasional mural. The rich, grainy smell of frying falafel. Fresh pita.

Perhaps it should have surprised me when Hassan, not more than ten years old, took my hand and said “welcome.” But it didn’t. And perhaps it should have surprised me that within minutes Meg and I were seated in Hassan’s family’s courtyard outside his house sipping steamy “chai”. Tea. But it didn’t.

Hassan’s English was broken. Each time he couldn’t recall a word or a phrase he would put his head down and apologize. Hassan and his younger siblings and friends, marveled at us. They asked us questions. Why were we here in “Filistine”? To find hope and beauty in the midst of ethnic cleansing. Did we like it here? Yes we do, very much. They giggled when we cursed Bush. Do we think Palestinians are terrorists? I don’t watch Fox News. Welcome. Welcome. Sipping tea with fourth generation Palestinian refugees. I couldn’t help but look into Hassan’s eyes and see a boy whose daily reality makes all the compounded suffering in my life seem insignificant and I feel a tinge of guilt. Guilt for my wealth. Guilt for my nation’s role in sustaining Hassan’s suffering. The tea was sweet, fresh mint leaves gave it spice. As Hassan’s younger brother smiled at me the last cup of tea slipped off the tray he carried. It shattered on the concrete floor.

Refugees in their own land. Children forced to act like adults in order to cope with the strains of life under occupation. Under apartheid. So much of me wants to know their pain, romanticize their plight. But I know I shouldn’t. As we finished our tea and said our goodbyes to our new friends I saw it in their eyes as clear as crystal… Understand my suffering. Enjoy my hospitality. Recognize my powerlessness. Tell my story. Enjoy my homeland for its broken beauty, its wild potential. Drink chai with me and don’t forget what you have seen and heard but whatever you do don’t fall in love with my suffering. There is nothing lovely about it.

Children II

Children

Hebron

Hope?

Hope?Hope?
Hope?

Hebron

Old City Checkpoint

Old City Checkpoint
Yes, Old City Checkpoint
Old City Architecture
Israeli Military Base in Old City

The Tree of Peace: Not so alive

Artas Demonstration

Sterile Ethnic Cleansing

The dim light fed into the Jaffa tent. Light, the shape of diamonds, vaguely illuminated the space. The couch and cushions were comfortable. They were red—black lines decorated the surface. The place was filled with a relaxing smoke. Troubles were far away, except for the troubles of the mind. Like the smoke that lingered in our tent, troubling thoughts filled my mind.

These weeks and these days have been different—they have been new indeed. These days have been refreshing and exhausting.

I remember sitting in a small simple shop called Sultan where they serve tea, coffee, and Argeela. We all sat in silence, thinking perhaps, or simply enjoying each other’s company. After telling some childhood stories to one another, Mohammed shared his favorite childhood memory. He remembers walking through the fruit tree fields in his village. It was a joy to harvest the apricots. He liked sitting in the shade of the apricot trees sipping tea with mint leaves and talking with his father. They each would taste-test a number of apricots just to make sure they were alright. Mohammed is the leader in his village now.

I thought this was the most appropriate memory for the existing situation here. The land where these trees once stood has now been flattened. The trees uprooted. More land, more trees, more fruit is disappearing. Memories, though seemingly existing only in the mind, will never be repeated in these fields.

It is sad.

But there are hundreds of people protesting this loss of land, loss of memory, loss of life. The loss seems inevitable. But the enthusiasm, commitment, and energy put into protecting this livelihood points to something amazing, powerful, and victorious. We are on the verge of seeing a something courageous, something astounding.

Walking through the bulldozed, treeless land was strange, it felt bare and wrong. This land is supposed to have trees. The trees are supposed to be giving fruit by now. The people are supposed to be able to harvest this fruit. This valley, this land is not supposed to be a sewage dump.

_________________

Land confiscation is a very common occurrence in Palestine. This refers to land within the pre-June 1967 Green Line. The “Green Line” is an international recognized border that separates Israel proper from the West Bank (Palestine). Land within the West Bank is regularly confiscated for settlement expansion, water rights, and “security.” The place described above is a village called Artas in a fertile valley near Bethlehem. Like so many other places in the West Bank, the land being confiscated in Artas will serve the expansion of a nearby settlement called Efrata. (According to international law, the settlements within the West Bank are illegal—certainly settlement expansion.) The land that is being taken (from the story above) is going to be used as a sewage dump for Efrata. Artas valley, as mentioned, is extremely fertile. Thousands of poor farmers depend on its soil for their livelihood. Now this valley is being turned into a sewage dump, which according to those who have crunched the numbers, will most likely spill over soon after construction and destroy the entire Artas valley, disenfranchising thousands of farmers and rendering life in Artas unlivable. Artas is a characteristic example of the type of intimidation, illegal expansion, and all out ethnic cleansing that Israel has routinely been engaged in the occupied Palestinian territories (West Bank and Gaza). While in Artas and many other cases Israel does not explicitly or forcefully expel the local Palestinian population, they, through a vast complex of apartheid-esque tactics that make normal life unsustainable.

Aida II

This wall separates the people of Aida refugee camp from their olive fields

This land will eventually be annexed to the "Greater Jerusalem" plan

We made some friends there
The Mosque in Aida

The Wall