Nora Lester Murad - The View From My Window in Palestine

  • About Me
    • Bio
    • Contact Me
    • Sign up for updates
  • My Writing
    • Life Under Occupation
    • Video/Radio
    • Guest Posts
    • Aid and Development
    • Gaza!
    • Palestinian Literary Scene
  • My Books
    • Resisting Erasure
    • Ida in the Middle
    • Rest in My Shade
    • I Found Myself in Palestine
  • Shop
  • Email
  • Instagram
  • LinkedIn
  • Twitter
  • YouTube

Come with me to Gaza (photo essay)

April 23, 2016 by Nora Lester Murad

When Israel gave me permission to enter Gaza, a little strip of land integral to Palestine but completely cut off, I jumped for joy and called my friends to gloat as if I’d won a lottery. A few minutes later, I heard myself sigh involuntarily as I admitted that I really didn’t want to go. Who would want to go to a place that oozes hopelessness, that embodies the failure of the world to deliver on even their most basic humanitarian obligations? Last year after a visit to Gaza, also for work, I spent two weeks in bed trying to recover.

But my recent visit was fantastic thanks in great part to the brilliance of Aid Watch Palestine’s Haneen Rizik Elsammak, one of the most energetic, decent, generous and inspirational people I have the privilege to know. From north to south and east to west, she introduced me to people who opened their homes and shared their very, very difficult stories. In between I reconnected with true friends (you know who you are) who continually amaze me with how much they offer to the world and how many obstacles they are forced to traverse in order to do so.

I left Gaza sad but refocused. I still believe Gaza exemplifies #HumanitarianBetrayal, but it is also bursting with #TransformationalOpportunity.

* * * *

Names of him and her, Khan Younis, March 2016

Latefa and Nezam Alaqaad in Khan Younis lost their home in the 2014 Israeli attack and now, nearly two years later, they still live in a makeshift aluminum room on the site of the four-story building they used to live in.

IMG_1138

 

 

Inside, the temperature was comfortable in the early spring, but it becomes desperately cold and wet in winter and unbearably hot in the summer.

 

 

Tiny kitchen in separate aluminum structure, Khan Younis, March 2016

The tiny kitchen is outside as is the tiny bathroom.

Gaza caravan

 

 

 

Much of the basic infrastructure is damaged, so utilities are rigged, unreliable and dangerous. There is no privacy, no security, no community, and no hope for any solution in the near-term.

 

Gaza caravan

 

Not far away in Khuzaa, I visited a family of seven that I wrote about in Huffington Post 8 months ago. Before the 2014 Israeli attack, Marwan Abu Jammous lived with his brothers in a 4-story building that used to stand in the place where laundry now dries. After his house was destroyed, Marwan’s family was given temporary shelter.

Gaza caravanThe aluminum caravan was so hot last summer, they slept outside. When the municipality wanted the land, Marwan moved his caravan near to his demolished home; that made the caravan even more unlivable. A donor provided a new, wooden caravan, but as the photo shows, it floods. There is no clarity if, when or how this family will ever get a new house.

Nora Lester Murad

But despite the glum situation, the family welcomed me, fed me, and showed me a great time.

 

 

 

To me, the caravans exemplify the catastrophic failure of the humanitarian system, not just in Gaza, but in the world. Humanitarian actors are supposed to respond to emergencies, and therefore they provide short-term relief, not long-term solutions. But in Gaza, which is locked in a long-term, man-made disaster, short-term relief (like caravans that are intended for habitation only up to six months) are ridiculous — unless paired with intensive, serious and effective political advocacy to end the root causes of the humanitarian crisis. While the international community whines “we’re doing the best we can,” kids in caravans in Gaza are dealing with the physical, emotional, economic, academic and spiritual effects of three major Israeli attacks in 8 short years.

Gaza caravan

One little girl in Beit Hanoun showed me her skin condition, which her mom said is rampant in the caravans. Can we not prevent this kind of needless human suffering?

 

 

There was some weird stuff along the way:

Gaza water

Water made in Turkey, by a company in the United Arab Emirates, imported to Gaza, with taxes paid to Israel. Wow, a lot of people are making money from Israel’s preventing Palestinians from accessing their own water.

 

 

 

Gaza Bank of Palestine

And this towering billboard advertising Bank of Palestine’s daily prize of $5,000. It’s normal in cosmopolitan Ramallah, but to see this in Gaza where the prize might well feed a poor family for something like 8 years, it was, well, weird.

 

 

Gaza donors

Also, all along the highways are notices that donors are building new housing, but many of these signs have been up for a long time, in front of empty lots where there is no visible beginnings of any work, and no one in the community has heard about the project or believes that it will ever come to fruition. It’s like Gaza exists in two “realities,” the deteriorating and frustrating real one and the fantasy one that is “advertised” by international organizations as being in the process of development.

 

Gaza Beit Hanoun

In Beit Hanoun, we drove towards Israel, but it’s hard to see where the buffer zone starts (an Israeli demarcated no-go zone in which soldiers routinely fire from watchtowers at farmers or livestock), so we felt a bit nervous. Haneen, ever efficient, leaned out of the driver’s side window and invited this exceptionally nice woman and her shy granddaughter to ride with us so that we wouldn’t stray too far.

IMG_1429On the short drive, she showed us the rubble of her house, and her brother’s, and then, casually, she pointed out this donkey. “This donkey ran across the buffer zone to Israel and escaped the bombing that killed its owner. After the ceasefire, she came back, but the family who owned her never will.”

 

Gaza Aid Watch Palestine

We relieved the stress of the day, which happened to be Palestinian Land Day, by taking pictures of ourselves and one another among the beautiful wild daisies. We must have taken hundreds of pictures. We were a raucous group of women! This picture of Haneen shows what a good time we had.

 

 

 

Gaza

Back in Gaza city, Haneen took me to an inspiring voluntary initiative where, tucked away in a nondescript location, a group of women collect used clothes and furniture and make them available for free to other women in difficult circumstances.

 

 

Gaza philanthropyWhile I visited, various items were donated and various women came to shop for things they needed. The whole operation oozes with respect and gratitude and mutual help.

 

 

 

 

Gaza philanthropyNo sense of desperation or hopelessness there — Gazan society is doing what they can to help themselves. It was a good way to end my visit. But then, driving towards Erez Checkpoint on my way home, I began to feel a bit desperate. Had I used my precious time in Gaza fully? I started to snap photos indiscriminately to try to hold on to Gaza, to my gratitude for getting to visit this special place.

Reviewing my pictures at home, I laughed out loud to see I had taken a short video of a generator, an almost identical clip to one I shared in a 4-minute video I made about my April 2013 visit to Gaza — three years ago! Generators run Gaza, which has electricity for only 4 or 6 hours at a time. Like caravans, generators are tangible evidence of the way we  are dealing with the #InhumanIllegalIsraeliBlockade — with expensive, environmentally damaging, inadequate, short-term responses to pacify 1.8 million Palestinians who are locked in the Gaza Strip.

Shame on everyone who doesn’t speak out for accountability.

I paid my privilege for a ticket, hopeful

January 31, 2016 by Nora Lester Murad

This poem first appeared in This Week in Palestine’s themed issue on “Security in Palestine.”

 

I paid my privilege for a ticket, hopeful

that from 35,000

reality would shine blue and green,

not red and viscous.

 

I sought days without tach-tach,

nights free of children crying “auntie”

from a freezing caravan

under a GRM-enabled sign: Human Appeal UK.

 

Isn’t escape sometimes justified?

I recline, press “new releases” on my private screen

noting

that my compassion excludes

those who self-medicate with berry-flavored argila

at the cost of a chicken dinner for a family in Rafah.

 

Hypocrite. And naïve!

Return renewed? Ha!

If not to the physical front lines where kafiyas meet tear gas,

then to the psychic front lines where adrenalin meets exhaustion.

 

From which store in Manara Square does one buy renewal? In what currency is it sold?

Chicago, Yarmouk, Lesbos, Shuhada Street – there are too many fronts, too many fronts.

 

I realize now that I sought solace in a place

that is no more

or that only existed

in the imagination

of a white,

American,

child.

I realize now that I have returned to a place

that no longer exists

or perhaps only existed

in the fantasy of a foolish,

entitled,

optimist.

 

Hope is a fickle lover. It entices with curly hair tossed with fearlessness. Then it crumbles

into fet-a-feat when you can’t attend the funeral of Israel’s martyr du jour

because you can’t, because you just can’t, because you really just can’t.

 

The Intifada was pre-paid on a card bought in 10 shekel coins at the Jawwal kiosk,

but that does not mean we were prepared for the lights to go out.

In the dark, strategic options are obscure,

so,

shall we meet to discuss at that old café where the wi-fi is strong?

Rights-based aid goes beyond the transparency of data

January 27, 2016 by Nora Lester Murad

This article first appeared in Al-Adab in Arabic and on Aid Watch Palestine’s blog in English.

“Transparency” has become a key element of the global aid discourse, but is this new rallying cry really revolutionary? Aid transparency advocates argue that effective development requires better aid data. They have started a veritable movement complete with databases, dedicated blogs, specialized NGOs, annual global reports and meetings, grant schemes and training opportunities – all dedicated to improving the transparency of aid.

As a result of these efforts, donors and other aid actors have committed to providing updated aid data that is easy to access, use and understand. Once these commitments are implemented, transparency of aid information should facilitate coordination, hinder corruption and mismanagement, and also expose over-spending and self-interest in aid policies. This could be revolutionary, especially if transparency places information in the hands of the people and upends power relations.

Of course aid information should be public. After all, Official Development Assistance (ODA) is generated from public tax money in donor countries and most of it is transferred to developing country partner governments (either directly as bilateral aid or through multilateral agencies like the World Bank or United Nations) where it goes to public budgets. In democratic countries, information about public funds should be, well, public.

But until now, information about international aid has been incomprehensible and unusable for many reasons: lack of disclosure by some donors, uneven disclosure across donors, lack of common reporting standards, late reporting, confusing layers of contracted relationships between donors and end beneficiaries leading to double counting. All this makes it essentially impossible for beneficiaries of aid or taxpayers in donor countries to build a full and accurate picture of what money comes in, where it goes, and what it achieves.

Some proponents of aid data transparency emphasize the technical objective of greater efficiency. They anticipate that standardized data will help eliminate gaps in knowledge due to missing data and duplication that can lead to double counting. They also argue that improved monitoring by donors and recipient governments will enable better decision-making. However, aid transparency is also frequently framed in terms of a more radical concept: accountability. The notion that aid information should be publicly available directly challenges the neo-colonial attitude embedded in many traditional development approaches: the civilized Western powers benevolently “doing something for” the unfortunate and incapable people of the Third World. Theoretically, if aid recipients have genuine access to useful information about aid, they can demand better policies or even refuse to work with certain donors.

Transparency of aid is not only fundamental to good aid practice, but is enshrined in international humanitarian law. The concept of Freedom of Information, which enshrines the legal right of citizens to access information, is also relevant. Many countries have national laws that guarantee transparency of certain information. In Palestine, however, the Palestinian Access to Information law, drafted in 2005, has been stalled for a decade.

Already, citizens of aid-dependent societies can demand information from their own national representatives using the concept of a “social contract” between citizens and their representatives. Also, recipient governments can already demand information from donors using the concepts of “mutual accountability” that are built into standards for development cooperation. What may be new is this: If new transparency commitments are implemented, citizens in aid-recipient societies will have a stronger basis from which to demand information directly from international donors.

Fourth High Level Forum on Aid Effectiveness, Busan, Korea
Fourth High Level Forum on Aid Effectiveness, Busan, Korea

This year, 2015, is the culmination of ten years of intensive aid transparency advocacy. The Paris Declaration, the outcome document of the 2nd High Level Forum on Aid Effectiveness in 2005, committed donors to “provide timely, transparent and comprehensive information on aid flows so as to enable partner authorities to present comprehensive budget reports to their legislatures and citizens.” Pressure from civil society and recipient governments in the run up to and during the 3rd High Level Forum in Accra in 2008 led to at least four clear commitments to greater transparency (p. 38). It also led to the launch of the International Aid Transparency Initiative (IATI), designed, in part, to support donors to meet their political commitments on transparency laid out in the Accra Agenda for Action. Three years later, in 2011, all the major development actors met at the 4th High Level Forum on Aid Effectiveness in Busan, Korea and committed to “implement a common open standard for electronic publication of timely, comprehensive and forward-looking information on resources provided through development cooperation.” Endorsers of the Busan Outcome Document committed to publishing to the common IATI standard by the end of 2015.

Transparency is also integrated into the Sustainable Development Goals process, the successor to the Millennium Development Goals. In September 2015, all major donors signed the Joint Declaration on Open Government for the Implementation of the 2030 Agenda for Sustainable Development, which includes a recommitment to the principles of transparency in the context of international development cooperation and “…citizen participation in the implementation of all the goals and targets in the 2030 Agenda for Sustainable Development, including decision-making, policy formulation, follow up and evaluation processes.”

The commitment to participation goes beyond the mere common data standard envisaged by IATI. The bundling of transparency with participation might suggest a new phase for aid transparency. If citizens are to engage genuinely in their own development, they need more than access to aid data; they will also need access to strategies, project plans, budgets, procurement policies, monitoring reports, evaluations, and more. They will need access to these materials in their own languages and before decisions are made to enable them to participate effectively. This fact was mentioned in the IATI feasibility study conducted in October 2010, but, notably, there is no mention of translation of key documents in the monitoring framework for transparency that is open for public consultation until February 2016.

In Palestine, the allocation of resources and agreement on policies is almost always made on the basis of documents that are not available in Arabic and through coordination mechanisms that do not share information in Arabic or in a timely way. For example, the UN and World Bank both present quarterly reports to the Ad Hoc Liaison Committee, the donor coordination mechanism for Palestine on the global level. Neither body regularly translates these reports into Arabic despite the significant impact these reports have on the daily lives of Palestinians. Another example is the 300-page, consultant-written “Detailed Needs Assessment and Recovery Framework for Gaza Reconstruction” published by the State of Palestine’s Ministerial Committee for the Reconstruction of Gaza in August 2015. It is only available in English and only on the website of the Local Development Forum — the donor coordination structure. Given that most documents related to aid in Palestine are in English, it is not surprising that the majority of Palestinians are excluded from effective participation in development cooperation.

It can be argued that providing timely information in Arabic is a huge undertaking fraught with expense and complications. Yet, is there any way to have real accountability or genuine participation if “transparent” materials are not available in Arabic? Why are all these materials produced in English in the first place? If Palestinians really led their own development agenda, strategies, plans, budgets, and evaluation reports would be first produced in Arabic — by Palestinians. The challenge would be translating them selectively into English so that international aid actors would know how to lend their support.

Clearly, while the concept of transparency is potentially revolutionary, aid actors will need to do much more than publish aid budgets and expenditures based on a standard format. The signing of new declarations and commitments is unlikely to spur the changes required. Aid recipients will probably need to make repeated demands for transparency of information they deem essential until donors and other aid actors realign their priorities, establish new work patterns, and make real beneficiary participation a priority. Of course, this will also require fundamental changes in Palestinian civil society as community members become aware of their rights and the responsibility that accompanies them.

In Solidarity with Ashraf Fayadh

January 14, 2016 by Nora Lester Murad

Read about Ashraf Fayadh, Palestinian poet sentenced to death in Saudi Arabia here:

Newly Translated: Poems to Read for Ashraf Fayadh on January 14

In solidarity with Ashraf and all cultural workers and activists facing threats to their freedom to speak, I am joining the global reading of Ashraf’s poetry with “The Melancholy of Dough” translated by Tariq al-Haydar.

Screen Shot 2016-01-14 at 9.23.49 AM

 

Update! The death sentence has been removed. Read the story in The Guardian!

  • « Previous Page
  • 1
  • …
  • 15
  • 16
  • 17
  • 18
  • 19
  • …
  • 61
  • Next Page »

Recent Posts

  • Media Coverage of My Lawsuit with Jenan Matari against the Los Angeles Public Library (running list)
  • Children’s Picture Book Review: “Never Again for Anyone”
  • Members of Educators Union Say Its Capitulation to ADL Betrays Workers, Students
  • On Teach Truth Day of Action: The Movement to #TeachTruth Includes Palestine, Too
  • How do we get the ADL out of schools? A conversation with Nora Lester Murad of #DropTheADLfromSchools.

Tweets!

Could not authenticate you.
  • Contact Me
  • About Me
  • Archive
  • Sign up for updates

Copyright © 2026, All rights reserved
Website Maintained by AtefDesign