In response to all the excellent comments about my post, “Checkpoint Etiquette,” I am thrilled to share this must-see video “Yala to the Moon” which I saw on Electronic Intifada.
The fact that such a joyful, creative, and hopeful film can be made here, despite the checkpoints (and all they symbolize), is answer to that oft-asked question, “How can you stand it?” Palestinians don’t just “stand it,” they create.
Enjoy! And if you like it, share a comment. (And if you don’t like it, please get some help!)
Is Jerusalem’s Old City Safe?
Last week I got an email from a friend of a friend. He’s coming to Jerusalem. First time. Among other things, he’s heard that the Old City of Jerusalem isn’t safe. Is it? Is the Old City safe?
I’m asked that question by nearly every single visitor I encounter.
The question makes me contort my face as if I’m being offered fried cow organs by someone I really don’t want to offend.
I posed the question to a friend of mine who just got her master’s degree in Jerusalem Studies. Her eyes rolled to the right as if she’d told her son four thousand times that his shirt is hanging in the closet but he just asked again where it is.
Is the Old City safe?
What do you think? Is the Old City safe? (I’ll post my answer soon.)
Visualizing Occupation: Freedom of Movement
Whereas West Bank settlers can travel freely between Israel and the West Bank, Palestinian movement is governed by the Israeli security establishment. This illustration is the fourth in a series of infographics on the effect of the occupation on the Palestinian civilian population.
Sincere thanks to Michal Vexler for permission to reprint this artwork freely and without restriction.
Checkpoint Etiquette
My daughter, and the other neighborhood kids who attend Friends School in Ramallah, usually take a public bus in the morning. As long as they leave before traffic builds up, it’s an easy ride from Jerusalem—no checking of identity papers, no searches by soldiers. But the return to Jerusalem can take hours through military checkpoints and sometimes requires the dodging of obstacles and dangers.
Because of these erratic conditions, we mothers take turns bringing the kids back by car, either the long way around through the Beit Il checkpoint (which I can do because I have a United Nations identity card) or on the Jeba’a Road through the Pisgat Ze’ev checkpoint. Sometimes I take a risk and drive through Qalandia checkpoint. Once you’re in though, there’s no turning back. You’re stuck for the duration.
Whether on foot or by car, going through military checkpoints is miserable. It might take 20 minutes or it might take 2 hours, but either way, I go through emotional turbulence. Sometimes I’m stuck on a simple (existential?) question: Why does someone else decide if I get home or not and whether or not I’m late? Sometimes it’s more logistical: If boys start to throw rocks, how can I get out of the checkpoint before the tear gas flies?
Occasionally there are amusing or thought-provoking incidents at the checkpoint. A few weeks back I was near the front of the line at Qalandia when rocks started raining down on my car and the cars around me. The drivers jumped out of their cars furious at the boys, “You’re hitting us, you fools. The Israeli watchtower is over there. Learn to aim!” And recently, coming home with a carload of children through a different checkpoint, we encountered a soldier the children named, “the happy soldier” because he seemed so happy to see us.
What do you say to a child when he waves enthusiastically at an Israeli soldier at a military checkpoint? Do you tell him not to be friendly and squash the innate humanity of the child? Or do you encourage him to express his humanity, perhaps awaking the humanity of the solder? Or do you spend the next 20 minutes talking about the complexities of human interactions in situations of structural inequality, thus losing the child completely and embarrassing your daughter in front of her friends? (You can guess what I did.)
Even when I’m alone, checkpoints are hard. How to act? I’ve noticed that if I drive up and hand my passport to a soldier with a scowl on my face, although I intend to communicate my disapproval and non-acceptance, the soldier tends not to notice or care. To be honest, they are often too deep in conversation with one another to acknowledge me. Yesterday a male and female soldier were flirting so suggestively at Qalandia; I felt I had walked into a private bedroom! In these situations, I find I want to shout, to make them feel uncomfortable; to make them know they are unwelcome.
But let’s be honest, if I make a fuss, I’ll delay the line. The drivers behind me will be angry. After all, we just want to get home, have some lemonade and watch Fetafeat, the cooking show, on TV. And it won’t make a difference anyway. Nothing makes a difference. So why make a fuss? But if I don’t make a fuss, what am I saying about occupation?
One thing that especially infuriates me is when they make me get out of my car to open the trunk for inspection. In my trunk I have a gallon of windshield wiper fluid, a quart of oil, and equipment for changing a tire. Sometimes my computer is in there and a box of books and some bags of recycling to deliver. There could be anything in there, but invariably, they glance in the trunk and hand back my passport without comment. So what was it for? It certainly wasn’t a security check. It was harassment. How come I have to drive away furious while they get to go back to flirting without even registering my existence?
Sometimes I’m angry before I get to the soldiers. Sitting in my car, next to a pile of rocks and expended tear gas canisters, I can see them up ahead chit chatting and repositioning their guns on their shoulders. Through the loudspeaker, the soldier who I cannot see in the watchtower to my left shrieks (yes, she shrieks!) “imshi” by which she intends the first several cars to enter the checkpoint while the rest wait behind the line. But “imshi” isn’t the right word for that! She should say “itfadal” (if you please) or “bevakasha” if she wants to say it in Hebrew. “Imshi,” especially in that tone, is the tone that an animal-hater would use to tell a dog to get out of the way, or perhaps, if you were really, really upset, you might use it to tell your child to hurry up.
I feel my muscles tightening just writing about it.
So, when I’m in the car with people who use a different strategy, I am amazed. They drive up to the checkpoint and greet the soldier: “How are you?” with a smile. They hand over their passport and wait patiently. They take back the passport and pause to say, “Thank you! Have a nice day!” How do they do that?
I understand, intellectually, that the soldier is a human being and s/he may not even want to be there oppressing me. I also understand that if I treat the soldier like a human being, s/he is more likely to treat me as one. But I don’t live in my intellect.
What would you do at a military checkpoint?
Lots of Activities for Writers and Readers in Palestine!
The Palestine Writing Workshop
is pleased to announce as part of
The 5th Annual Palestine Festival of Literature
Upcoming activities, including a children’s literature festival, a series of creative writing workshops, a public literary event, and children’s storytelling.
4 May 2012 (Friday) 9:00 – 16:00
Children’s Activity: A full day Children’s Literature Festival entitled “Cave of Imagination” in the old city of Abwein with Sonia Nimr.
5 May 2012 (Saturday) 10:00-12:00
Workshop: A two hour training on Writing About Culture with writer Rachel Holmes in Birzeit to introduce research and composition skills for writing about culture and the concerns of everyday life.
5 – 11 May 2012
Workshop: A 15 hour (over 5 days) training on creating Stories for the Radio that covers basic journalistic skills with radio journalist Bee Rowlatt, meeting in Birzeit.
5 May 2012 (Saturday) 19:30-21:00
Public Literary Reading: “Representing Lives through Literature” with writers Maya al Hayat, Abed al Rahim al Shaikh, Rachel Holmes, and Bee Rowlatt at the Khalil Sakakini Cultural Centre.
6 May 2012 (Sunday) 14:00 – 16:00
Children’s Activity: Interactive Storytelling in English “The Mornings Smelt Like Chocolate” with Bee Rowlatt at Beit Nimeh, Birzeit.
6 May 2012 (Sunday) 14:30 – 16:30
Workshop: This one day training on Character Development explores how to create characters and bring them to life with writer Rachel Holmes, held in Birzeit.
7 May 2012 (Monday) 14:00 – 17:00
Workshop: This one day training in Birzeit on Draft Editing with writer Rachel Holmes introduces three tools of the writing process to help writers produce well-written, effective texts.
7 May 2012 (Monday) 16:00 – 18:00
Children’s Activity: Interactive Storytelling in Arabic at the Khalil Sakakini Cultural Center.
8 May 2012 (Tuesday) 16:00 – 18:00
Children’s Activity: Interactive Storytelling in English “The Mornings Smelt Like Chocolate” with Bee Rowlatt at Khalil Sakakini Cultural Center, Ramallah.
9 May 2012 (Wednesday) 15:30 – 17:30
Workshop: This one day training with writer Rachel Holmes on Publishing Digital Non Fiction is for writers in Gaza and introduces some essential skills for transforming currents events into good, accessible writing. Given via video conferencing.
10 May 2012 (Thursday) 14:30 – 17:30
Workshop: This 3 hour e workshop will be held via video conferencing with journalist Bee Rowlatt for writers in Gaza on Blogging-Get Yourself Out There!
10 May 2012 (Thursday) 17:00 – 18:30
Children’s Activity: Interactive Storytelling in Arabic at the Khalil Sakakini Cultural
Center.
May 11 2012 (Friday) 16:00 – 17:30
Literary Tea with author Rachel Holmes, discussing her book “The Hottentot Venus: the life and death of Saarjtie Baartman: born 1709-buried 2002.” Pick up book in advance to read.
May 12 2012 (Saturday) 11:30 – 13:00
Literary Tea with author Bee Rowlatt, discussing her book “Talking About Jane Austen In Baghdad: The True Story of an Unlikely Friendship.” Pick up book in advance to read.
A big thank you to our partners: Palestine Festival of Literature, British Council, Khalil Sakakini Cultural Center, Riwaq, Tamer Institute, and Danish Center for Culture and Development
For more information on any of the above, email us at write@palestineworkshop.org or call +970-(0)597651408
Trying to Reach PalFest LAST YEAR (written on April 21, 2011)
The 2012 PalFest activities are about to begin! I’m hoping to participate more than I did last year. What happened last year? Read this story about my unsuccessful attempt to attend the PalFest 2011 closing event in Silwan.
April 11, 2011: Last night my family was sitting around doing nothing in particular, but I still had to pester and beg and insist that we go out. We live in Jerusalem, a world-class city! Even on the Palestinian side of town, there are things to see. But too often we let the most banal of life’s obligations fill up our time and we get stuck in a rut.
It was the last day of PalFest (the annual Palestinian Literature Festival) and we had already missed most of the contemporary dance festival. My eldest really, really, really didn’t want to go, so she stayed with her friends celebrating the last school day before the Easter break. My middle child, characteristically eager to please me, was happy to join, but she brought a book expecting to bored. My youngest was playing with another 7-year old. I called the girl’s mother, a dear friend, and convinced her to put the girls in her car and drive behind us to PalFest.
The closing event of the 2011 PalFest was being held at the Silwan Solidarity Tent where internationals and locals gather to protest the demolition orders on 80 or so of Silwan’s Palestinian homes. It’s a Palestinian community just adjacent to the Old City, and one that, unfortunately, has religious significance to Jews. It might be a lost cause, but Silwan is going down fighting – hard (get more information here and here).
It only took 10 minutes to get to the corner of the Old City walls where the road curves down and left to Silwan, but that road was roped off. We had forgotten Passover. There are always closures and detours and traffic problems on Jewish holidays, but this one was massive. Cars everywhere with nowhere to go.
We took a right, away from Silwan and drove to the Palestinian bus station to ask a Silwan bus driver (#76 if you ever need to know) what he suggested. He said there are back roads, but it would take more than an hour and we might not get there. We deliberated. My friend had the idea to walk straight through the Old City; Silwan is just beyond the Jewish Quarter. It was 8 pm and the event should have been starting, but the chances were that if we couldn’t get to the venue on time, the performers might also be late. And since the weather was lovely and the kids were awake, we parked near Damascus Gate and walked into the Old City.
I was euphoric. First of all, the Old City is beautiful at night. I don’t remember the last time I was there at night. It was alive and crowded with pushy, noisy vendors and tourists. Taking advantage of the visit, I was quickly able to buy the piece of Palestinian embroidery I wanted to send to my cousin. I was also excited about the line up. DAM, an internationally recognized rap group was playing. Suad Amiry, an internationally recognized author (and friend) was scheduled to MC.
Actually, I saw DAM perform just last week at TEDx in Ramallah (which surreally was held in Bethlehem) and I was hoping they would play their song, “I’m in love with a Jew” about falling in love with a Jew in an elevator (“She was going up, I was going down, down, down”). For some reason, I like that song!
The adults, walking fast to get to the show we were already late for, were followed by the three kids. We took the left fork at the bottom of the Damascus Gate entrance and my friend led us this way and that way until we found ourselves in a sea of black hats. I have never been in the midst (really the midst) of SO many orthodox Jews before and it made me nervous. My friend (who is Palestinian) and I look like foreigners but my husband is clearly Arab. Although no one seemed to notice us or care, I found my stomach tied in nervous knots for the rest of the night.
The checkpoint into the Jewish Quarter was closed and there was already a crowd of angry Jews yelling at the soldiers because they wanted to get in. It didn’t seem smart hang around to watch a fight brew between the Israeli army and religious Jews, so we followed someone’s directions and took two left turns to get to the other entrance into the Jewish Quarter. There, we found ourselves on some stairs in a crowd of hundreds of people standing packed between the narrow alley walls. No one was moving. My husband wasn’t nervous at all (amazing) and asked someone what the delay was (though by talking, most people would know for certain that he’s an Arab). It turned out a “suspicious object” had been found just ahead and that checkpoint was also closed. I pulled my husband away from the crowd, sure that he’d be rounded up. We walked fast into the Arab section where I could breathe again.
We pondered whether we should give up or not, but my friend kept saying, “It’s right there” pointing to the wall. She meant that Silwan was just on the other side of the wall, which was true, but somehow an understatement and an overstatement at the same time. I, too, really wanted to go to that PalFest event. Badly.
Kids in tow, we backtracked to the place where the “suspicious object” had been and found, strangely, the path was open. Completely open. We walked down the stairs and up to the next checkpoint without even slowing down. Jerusalem is such a weird place. Then, despite all the focus on “security,” no one paid any attention to us at the checkpoint because an international guy was carrying a box of what looked like fossilized chips of biblical cooking pots, and the soldiers were so interested, they didn’t pay attention to anyone else. We breezed through that checkpoint and walked straight down to the Wailing Wall. There must have been thousands of people there. It was all lit up. Beautiful in its own right, but so strange to walk through that reality out the Dung Gate to the top of the hill over Silwan, one of Palestine’s hottest hot spots.
Tour busses (Passover, remember?) were lined up to our left but to our right was the entrance to Silwan and nearly empty. We started to walk down the hill toward the solidarity tent, but locals came forward and told us to re-consider. Soldiers had tear-gassed the tent. There was rock throwing. My old activist persona wanted to go anyway, to show support, and to bear witness, but my mother identity won out. It was too dangerous. We turned back.
We had been walking through a maze of human, political, cultural, physical and vehicular obstacles for more than an hour-and-a-half trying to reach a place that was an easy 15-minute drive from our house. We arrived but couldn’t take part. Instead, we went to the Austrian Hospice and had tea and cake.
Here’s a video about PalFest including footage at the end of what we missed:
The Aroma of Tear Gas in the Air…
Now that I have a car, I am often lazy and drive to Ramallah on the days I have business there. It’s best to go early and beat the intense traffic that is inevitable when a population expands and expands over decades but the roads are allowed to decay.
Recently, I drove into Qalandia checkpoint around 7:25 am and my eyes started stinging immediately. Damn tear gas. Not a nice way to start a day. Later I found out that a Palestinian boy had been killed the night before, martyred as they say locally, and the smell of tear gas was remnant from the battle that took his life. Not a battle, really. Palestinian boys with rocks against Israeli boys with guns. More of a set up than a battle.
I shouldn’t drink coffee even on good days. I should definitely not drink coffee on top of tear gas. It was a long, shaky day.
On the way home, there were still tires burning along the side of the main road down to Qalandia. I veered left to take Jeba’a Road (also called death way) and had to swerve around various burning items. That’s not all that unusual, but the smell of fresh tear gas was disconcerting. From a car, you can’t see what’s going on around you. You might unknowingly drive right into danger. I cracked the window and tried to hear.
My friend sat in the front seat next to me and commented casually about the shooting in front of us. I squinted into the dusk and saw long arcs of tear gas shot from the military vehicles up ahead on our left into the community of Ram on our right. I pulled to the side to confer with my friend. “Straight ahead or turn around?” Some cars were driving forward under the tear gas and others were turning around.
“They’re shooting into the air,” she said. “It’s only tear gas. It’s not like we’re going to get shot.” I took that as advice that I should press forward. I, too, wanted to go home, not get stuck on the short stretch of road between two hot spots. I drove fast.
We got to the roundabout near the Israeli settlement and seamlessly resumed our previous conversation about the community’s role in monitoring development projects. The gas was behind us. There was nothing more to say about it.
I got home and washed my clothes separate from our other clothes. I showered and washed my hair three times. My daughter said I smelled good, but my eyes still sting hours later.
Altogether, not an atypical day in Palestine.
Can Palestinian Kids Hang Out at the Mall in Israel Safely?
I know I have to write about what happened in Malha mall, but where can I find the words? Right in front of Aldo shoes, near the H&M where my daughters hold blouses up and ask, “How does this look on me?” and steps away from Lalushka where they buy pointe shoes and leotards – there was a mob riot. Sports fans from the nearby stadium streamed in shouting. They worked themselves into a frenzy chanting “Death to Arabs.” According to the reports, they attacked three Palestinian women with children eating in the food court!
Bad things happen every day here. Every single day someone is kidnapped from his bed in the middle of the night by Israeli soldiers, devastating his wife and children who look on helplessly. Every single day soldiers fire on peaceful protesters, sometimes knocking an eye out, or worse. Every single day soldiers stop young men in the street and frisk them against a wall, shaming them in front of neighbors and making them late for work. And of course there is “nonviolent” violence like revoking people’s residency rights, arbitrarily closing cultural institutions, and the like. It’s sad and scary and infuriating and unacceptable.
But the riot at Malha mall crossed a line. It erased a line! It’s a line that Israel tries to maintain to delude us into thinking that if we behave, everything will be fine, and that only “bad” people are at risk. No! Racism is an attack on all human beings.
PLEASE watch the video of the riot and read the short story and click on the links at this post of Electronic Intifada: http://electronicintifada.net/blogs/ali-abunimah/video-emerges-israeli-mob-shouting-death-arabs-attacked-palestinians-jerusalem#comment-4006. Watch it from beginning to end. Keep watching when it’s upsetting, and when you think it couldn’t possibly go on. Keep watching.
Imagine that this happened at the mall where your kids hang out, or on the bus that your kids take to school, or at a restaurant that you frequent as a family. Imagine the hatred was aimed at you. Imagine that mall security didn’t intervene. Imagine that your local police decided not to arrest anyone. Would you feel safe?
The view from my window in Palestine
The view from my bedroom window isn’t very pleasing to the eye. That’s because the glass is so dirty. A “good” Palestinian woman spends a significant amount of time attacking the dust and dirt that permeates this place. She throws water on the floor and uses a squeegee to sweep it into drains built into the corner of each room for that purpose. I am a woman, but I am neither “good” nor Palestinian, so, if you visit my house, it is recommended to keep your shoes on.
The window in the living room is cleaner because we have an electric “treese” that we lower when it rains. (I’m sorry but I don’t know how to say “treese” in English and some people here call them “abujur.”) The treese is a slatted shade that comes down on the outside of windows. It is supposed to keep cold and rain out, but in our house rain comes not through the window, but right through the walls. It forms a not-so-small puddle on the floor where my youngest daughter works in her play laboratory.
Talking about humidity… these are the patches of mold that seep through the outer walls in the winter. We wipe them off and they come back after a few days.
Why am I telling you this? Well if you’re interested in my life in Palestine, then you need to know about the inconveniences of living in a place where buildings are made poorly (most likely to keep costs down, but the risk of demolition may also be a factor). We also have power outages. And you know you have a problem with water pressure when your 12-year old says, “Mom, can we go to a hotel to have a shower?”
These are problems that the Israeli settlements just ¼ mile from my house do not face. Their infrastructure is updated and maintained, though we both pay the same taxes to the same Jerusalem municipality.
Why do I stay? (My mother keeps asking me that question, too.)
I could move back to my native California or my adopted Massachusetts. But I would miss the storeowner across the street from my apartment who yells at children for dawdling too long as they decide what candy to buy. I would miss Saeeda’s face lighting up as she tells me how women stood up to their husbands in defense of their community projects. I would miss watching my children switch effortlessly from English to Arabic including all the mannerisms and behavior that go with each. I would miss my car, as old and dented and red as I am. And I would miss my mother-in-law. And she would miss me!
So the view from my window in Palestine—dirty, moldy, and inconvenient (not to mention unjust, inhuman and depressing)—is also one of amazing people living important lives. “The view from my window in Palestine” is my point of view. If you’re interested, I’m happy to share it with you.
-Nora
- « Previous Page
- 1
- …
- 13
- 14
- 15