Palestine - some experiences

For years now I have been studying the Middle East, but since the age of 5 I have not visited Palestine/Israel. Last week I finally did. I have come to realize that intellectuality can only prepare you so much.

The border: I ended up waiting there for over 5 hours. Of those 4 hours were spent before they actually spoke to me after I’d handed in my passport and answered all their questions. This didn’t bother me much. What bothered me was watching Palestinians waiting nervously hoping that they’d be admitted back home. Some had to return to Jordan without any explanation. The irony was heavy when I started talking with a Jewish-American who was also held up for 4 hours because she’d been to Lebanon recently. We both laughed at the irony that she has the right of return, but has problems entering as a tourist. They finally let me in with no explanation or apology for the wait. But for this I was prepared, anything else would have been naiv.

Bil’ein (pronounced Belaeen): Bil’ein is a small village of 1500 inhabitants close to Ramallah. The Wall has separated the village from 70% of its farm land and since the wall was erected the village has held a demonstration every Friday after midday prayer. As a result the town’s reputation has grown from that of an unknown place in Palestine to the very symbol of the anti-wall movement. We were joined by Israeli’s, Palestinians from other villages, journalists and international activists. For years this has been a strictly non-violent demonstration (unilaterally of course). The irony is amazing. The Israelis built the wall to “protect” themselves, and then every week they have to send soldiers to “protect” the wall. We didn’t get close. Soon the air was smoke filled. We were ducking teargas canisters raining from the sky and scattering into the olive groves. We tried to move the demonstration to another road, but found that that too was heavily fortified and we found ourselves stuck between a rock and a hard place when they started firing rubber bullets. Unlike gas canisters which you can see, rubber bullets are unavoidable. One person (he started throwing rocks about an hour into the demo against the will of the organizers) was hit in the arm, another was hit in the arm and the head (as I was to find out later, and which he regretted, he had kicked a soldier in the face while trying to pull free a Palestinian who was being kicked in the balls while lying on the ground), a local demonstrator in a wheelchair was hit by a gas canister in the head as he was unable to get out of the way. Apart from that there were no injuries on either side. Mostly we just stood there while being pelted with gas. After a while we pulled back due to there being too much smoke. At some point we heard the sounds of live ammunition – bursts of it. Were they shooting in the air? We had no way of knowing. As one of the Israeli demonstrators so aptly put it: I'm glad to see my tax money spent well.

Abu Dis – Jericho – Dead Sea: This was the most surrealistic day of my trip. I met a French PhD student with whom I decided to go to Jericho. To get there from Jerusalem, if you’re not Israeli, you haveto go by bus to Abu Dis. Abu Dis is a small village literally cut in two by the wall. Dozens of houses were demolished for this purpose and families now find themselves divided by the wall. Then we took a limousine taxi to Jericho. Not as flamboyant as it sounds, a limousine taxi is just a larger taxi which only leaves the station when it has been filled by its 7 passengers. Then we drove through one checkpoint to enter Jericho. Jericho is zone A, but is surrounded by zone C so it is sealed off. The city breathes poverty and reeks of wasted potential. The city is the oldest in the world and is littered with historical sites, yet is walled off and receives hardly any tourists. The Oasis Casino and the Intercontinental Hotel stand as testimony to the failure of Oslo. The city is also running massively short of water as the main underground river (wadi) that served the city has been diverted to serve the local settlements. From Jericho we caught a taxi who took us to the Dead Sea within the Occupied Territories. Strictly reserved for Israelis of course. We crossed two checkpoints – one out of Jericho and one into the Dead Sea resort. What a contrast. The Dead Sea was a beach resort where conflict did not exist. They even had an oriental café, so that tourists from Tel Aviv could visit the Orient without the trouble of meeting an Arab. Being outside of Palestinian jurisdiction there weren’t any buses going back so we hitch-hiked with two Israelis. Compared to our journey to the Dead Sea this was amazing in terms of ethnic divide and conflict perception. The car, having Israeli plates, drove straight to Jerusalem on super highways reserved for Israeli’s. These don’t have checkpoints. The couple were from Tel Aviv and had hardly ever been to Jerusalem so we got lost in a settlement, then we got dropped of in the outskirts of Jerusalem. It was Sabbath so no busses. We walked towards the old city, but lost our way slightly. We stopped a car to ask for directions, but the man in the car warned us not to walk there. The conversation must be repeated in full:
- Why?
- Because you have to pass the Arab quarter.
- And?
- It’s dangerous there.
- But we live there.
- Oh … in that case I better drive you to your hotel.
- … thanks.
- What do you do?
- I study in Norway.
- Ah … I serve in the army.
- Where?
- Special forces … Lebanon, Ramallah … but I am human after all, so I give the terrorists water when we arrest them. It never stops … it’s a circle of violence.
- Don’t you think the occupation is the problem.
- It’s complicated … but I have Arab friends.
- In the West Bank?
- What is the West Bank?
- The Occupied Territories.
- The what?
- Occupied Territories … Palestine.
- Yes, I have Palestinian friends.
We reached our hotel and he welcomed us to Israel. Neither me nor the French guy had been inside Israel proper, so my French friend said:
- Actually we haven’t been to Israel.
- (Not catching the quip) Welcome!
So much more: I have so many more stories. It was one of those holidays which require a vacation afterwards. The Occupied Territories reminded me more of South Africa than I’d have dared to imagine. The daily indignation the Palestinians have to suffer. The wall that stands 8 meters tall dividing the two societies. The settlements which stand out like green gardens of Eden behind walls, next to ancient Palestinian towns without water. The contrast noticable in the short walk from the Muslim Quarter to the Jewish Quarter in Jerusalem. And what luxury ... I can leave and think this suffering over, churn it in my head and suffer mentally, but I can leave. I guess that's part of what drags me back - the feeling of guilt in leaving this behind.