I arrive back in Ramallah where the centre within which I work is excited
with new projects, and I begin to frantically note all the different ways I can contribute.
But I cannot focus or settle just yet. I'm meeting a bunch of impermenant Jerusalmeites
I'd just met with G who'd agreed to do a little tour of the west bank to learn about
life.
She who is a lawful citizen is actually unallowed to visit the West Bank, but shes found
 |
| Alaqabah mosque: holding up a peace sign |
since the last intifada when there were around 400) your passports are only really checked
on your way out of the West
Bank (to stop Palestinians leaving without permission). On her way out, G simply leaves via
illigal Settlements where the checkpoints allow Israelis to travel through. And only
israelis to travel through
...
The checkpoints within have soldiers, but on this occasion they didnt stop us for an ID
check. But the checkpoints are still useful, see because If a checkpoint is built beside
your house, you are not allowed to stand outside
your own house because its illegal to stand around the checkpoints.
So we jump in a service taxi with Z (G's trusty cab driver who accompanies all her little
tours)
We go to Alaqabah, a section C village in the West Bank. The West Bank is made up of
sections A B and C and section C means that the Israeli military have full control.
Alaqabah is probably the most peaceful of all the section C villages in terms of denfense
strategies. less than 100 metres away, rolling down a neighbouring hill,
is a training ground for soldiers. A fake villiage, infact, where soliders train military strategies.
The mayor of the village has set up a guest house to welcome all foreigners to come, learn,
and feel free to help the people out. He, too, designed the village's mosque to have two spikes
at its peak. This symbolizes peace. The military however, claim that it stands for
victory. This sums up the village perfectly.
So we stayed at the guest house, where we spent the humid evening cooking, eating,
and (for some) sleeping on the roof beneath a velvetty sky. I was secretly relieved that
the villiage was cut off from water (there were no mosquitoes!)
The village is cut off from water, as well as the road to their crops. Their fields.
And moreover, as the road was destoryed, big cumbersome holes were left dotting the path.
When it was destoryed, G was the one to go leaping down the path of the tracktor.
The soldiers had no reason to give her for why they were destroying the path;
'we're following orders. Why are you here?'
By midday, Z has picked us up again and we head forr
NAAAAAAAAABLUUUUUUUUUS
So my previous trip was a fun for the family kind of BBQ, and I'm glad I allowed a second
look. For I had completely missed the heat of devastation which drifted through the city.
Perhaps thats why, last time, we had avoided the old city?
We toured through the streets and learnt of where a group of Palestinians were gassed to
death (ironically), where so and so were blown up, where such activists were shot, where this family
died: leaving a blasted house without a relative to reclaim it.
The old, peaceful, antique village - of stone alleyways, winding through creative arches,
all made of a white stone ... all silent with a (humble) sense of loss.
We ate knafe.
I was then made to feel the guilt of eating animal products by a french vegetarian.
We head to Jelazon.
Somehow at the bus stop in Ramallah we had been invited back to the manager of the
Taxi service's house for dinner. He lives in Jelazon, a local refugee camp.
We lost some friends along the way. I like how this happens in life: Big groups
simplify as those who truly care to continue doing what you want to do to stay with you.
Parties become more intimate. Feelings become more natural. Perhaps we had grown too much
confidence by the time we entered his house?
No. Anyway. We had also developped this question by now which we'd discussed with all
of our new friends here and there.
Do you think a one state solution is possible, where both the Israeli and Palestinian
gave up on Israelm, though lived together equally in one big harmonious...Canaan.
After a short discussion, most people agreed that if only a process would leed this into
happening, it could work.
Me and the taxi man's wife got along really well. She had attitude and was learning sexy
dancing via TV. Together we tried on her dancing dresses and wiggled the makloube away...
Yes, we were made a juicy rainbow feast of makloube dips and toubleh.
The husband felt particularly restricted living in a refugee camp. He wanted us to understand
the struggle. This somehow meant that we needed to understand his religion. All discussion of politics,
of the struggle, of life, was sivved through the story of God.
The Koran says this land will always have war.
The Book says that the Jews must come here for the Mesiah to come.
He played us youtube clips. One was of a Jew who'd converted to Islam...rather innapropriat
and the next was infact of a Rabbi.
Between the hebrew - arabic translations, they must have misunderstood the message.
This Jewish Rabbi had both Jews and Muslims supporting him
with polar interpretations of his speach.
I really liked that it happened, because it drew the two peoples, the two religions
into a parellel. They share the same God, the same faith. They've just cut him up into
territories.
I was too excited to go home, so the party continued to S's house where we continued to discuss
the world over watermelon.
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