Nora Lester Murad - The View From My Window in Palestine

Guest Post: Palestinians on the Beach? by Vicki Tamoush

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PALESTINIANS ON THE BEACH? WHY NOT EVERY DAY?!

As I write this, sitting in Southern California, I can hear the waves crashing just a few feet away.  Whenever I seek renewal of the spirit, refreshment of the soul, I am drawn to the sea where all can be washed clean.  Any burdens I carry can be cast onto the waves that reliably ebb away, pulling my hurts and guilts and sorrows with them.  As stifling as life is under occupation, I have to wonder if even a tsunami would be strong enough to wash away that pain.

Of course, it would have to be a tsunami; Palestinians are, by and large, prohibited from going to the beach so the ocean would have to come to them.

For this reason, I was stunned to read an article that said in August, for the first time ever, 130,000 Palestinians were granted permits to visit the beach for Eid al-Fitr.  When I first read Gideon Levy’s story, my eyes filled with tears. Mr. Levy’s account is written with such loving, exacting detail that we are left feeling as though we saw this phenomenal scene with our own eyes. I had to read it a second; even a third time to be sure I hadn’t missed the punch line where he tells the reader that he woke to find that it had all been a dream.

It’s not rare, at least for me, to experience quite the opposite reaction when I read news stories about the occupation.  Often I’m moved more to nausea than to tears.  This story was different not only because it described an unexpected visit to the sea but even more because of the great joy that this sight brought the writer.  I love his exuberant response; I love that he demands to know why it can’t be this way every day.  He opened the door for me to dare to dream the same.

The simple question, “Why not everyday?” made me realize that several thefts are taking place.  The occupation, those who uphold and codify and institutionalize the occupation, have stolen so much from the Palestinians and also from the world at large.  Palestinians have been robbed of the enjoyment of a gift given by God; the occupiers have the audacity to steal a gift handmade by no less than the Creator.

And justice-minded, goodhearted Israelis are being robbed as well.  The occupation steals from them the right to do what I can do whenever I like: call up a Palestinian friend and say, “Hey, it’s a beautiful day.  Let’s hit the beach!”  I have Israeli friends here in the States who long to do in their home country what they can only do here: befriend a Palestinian and interact as equals, as true peers.

There is another victim of this robbery, and that is the American public.  We finance the occupation in so many ways (taxes, purchases from companies that support the occupation, and even through our voting patterns).  We pay for a land of the free and home of the brave in the Levantine but when we open the package we find only a bill of goods.  What we are financing is in wholesale opposition to the principles on which the United States was founded.  But little is said, and nothing is done, and the thief walks away in broad daylight.

I’m not sure I can ever again listen to the waves crashing without thinking of the scene Mr. Levy described.  In fact, I rather hope that vision will continue to haunt me for the rest of my life.  I need to be reminded that I’ve been the victim of a robbery so I can run out into the world screaming my head off to anyone who will listen.

 Vicki Tamoush is a second-generation Arab American who lives in Tustin, California.  She holds a Bachelor’s degree in English from the University of California, Irvine and is founder of Interfaith Witnesses. Her first guest post on this blog was How Ramadan Made Me a Better Christian.

Back when I was volunteering with Dalia Association doing aid reform advocacy, we made this short film (about 4 minutes) so that you can hear for yourself how “aid” can hurt — directly from the Palestinians most affected.

I’d love to hear your views about the film and the issues it raises and, most importantly, what do we do now that dependence on a hegemonic aid system is undermining Palestinians’ rights to self-determination in development?

Are there Alternatives to Dependence on International Aid? Yes!

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My latest article appeared in This Week in Palestine, September 2012. Check out the amazing issue on the theme of “Alternatives” in Palestine. For your convenience, I’ve posted the article below. Please tell me, are there alternatives to dependence on international aid?

Most people I know believe that Palestine is changing, and not for the better. Even those who enjoy a higher standard of living than in the past have a lower overall quality of life. The Palestinian commitment to community is eroding, and individualism and materialism are seeping into the void. The main culprit? Palestine is dependent on international aid.

The billions of dollars circulating through the Palestinian economy may lull us into temporary complacency, but without dignity, empowerment, and a just peace, the promise of development is false. I think most people know this, but can’t imagine the alternative. Well, the alternative to dependence on international aid is simple: don’t depend on aid. Want to know how?

1-Focus on priorities not opportunities

We don’t need so many traffic police crowding up the manara, and we don’t need so many democracy workshops. Yes, there are opportunities to get funding for those things, but we should resist being enticed into implementing others’ agendas. Our own priorities, decided democratically, can bring focus and passion back into daily life.

2-Live more simply

Investing in our collective future rather than short-term individual gain requires us to live more simply. When we borrow money for cars and houses that we can’t pay off without inflated, donor-funded salaries, we have relinquished our independence. If we give up our cappuccinos and drink tea with maramiya, we will spend less and need less.

3-Value Palestinian resources

Too many people buy into the myth that Palestinians are deficient. Think about it: Palestinians live all over the world, speak many languages, and are well connected to people with influence. Palestinians are highly educated and experienced in every field of human endeavour, from science to the arts to politics. Palestinians are drawn together by a shared history, a cultural legacy, a shared future, and endurance. Where is the deficiency? If we calculate the value of Palestinian resources, we will realise that international aid is but a small supplement to the resources available in ourselves and in one another.

4-Share

We can spend less and need less simply by sharing. Two part-time employees can share a computer. Two companies can share office space. We can share our time as volunteers. We can use our public spaces for multiple purposes. Eliminating waste and duplication is a big step toward reducing dependence. Also, eliminating “leakage” to Israel by purchasing Palestinian-made products and complying with boycotts is another way keep Palestinian resources in the community.

5-Cultivate alternative sources of funding

We can inspire solidarity and investment rather than charity by ending complicity, stamping out corruption, and consistently acting with integrity. We can increase local giving by establishing systems for small, regular contributions. Private sector philanthropy can be more strategic and should include international companies that sell to the Palestinian market. Diaspora philanthropy can engage Palestinians around the world in service and the building of long-term endowment funds.

6- international aid selectively

In those cases in which we choose to accept international aid, it should be on Palestinian terms and in ways that don’t promote dependence. Most importantly, we should not be complicit in wasting resources! Palestinians should refuse funds that are tied to use of overpaid foreign consultants who bring little added value or to the purchase of unneeded commodities from the donor country. Refusing bad aid is a national imperative.

7-Remember Palestinian history and culture

Some may find it difficult to imagine alternatives to dependence on aid, but Palestinian history and culture are rich with examples of self-reliance. During the first Intifada, Palestinians didn’t ask, “What can I get?” but “What can I give?” Even the most simple of impulses, to send a plate of grape leaves to a neighbour makes the point. Today, many, many Palestinians give money, time, and love for the Palestinian cause. We must remember and celebrate these aspects of Palestinian history and culture.

8-Be even more innovative

While we mine Palestinian history and culture for examples of self-reliance, we can also learn from innovations in other parts of the world. I heard that a young person in Tokyo can help an aging neighbour and “earn” hours that his or her own aging parent can use to buy help from a young neighbour in Osaka. I’ve seen thriving bartering clubs where members offer skills ranging from dentistry and cooking to babysitting and language lessons, and they receive the same number of hours in services from other members of the club. I experienced a listserv where people in a community posted things they no longer need: office supplies, strollers, or computers, and others come by to pick them up off the front stairs-no charge. There is a lot of exciting innovation happening in Palestine, but there is also much room for innovation, so we depend less on international aid.

* * * *

I remember one of my first bus rides after I moved to Palestine. The bus was nearly empty. The driver wasn’t earning much. Maybe he didn’t even earn enough to buy fruit to bring home. Then we drove by an old fellaha walking on the side of the road. She was a short, round woman in a traditional embroidered dress. She carried fruit in a basket on her head in the heat. It was obvious she was taking her wares to the market but didn’t have the money for bus fare. Our near-empty bus passed her by.

This problem is one of unexploited latent resources. The unused seats on the bus are a resource, but they don’t bring value if unused. The fruit the woman fails to sell is a resource, but has no value if it is tossed in the garbage because people don’t earn enough to buy fruit. The answer to this conundrum is simple: the woman should pay her bus fare in fruit. Unfortunately, it’s hard (really hard!) to modify the way we think and live-especially after years of being trained by the international aid system that money is the only resource that has value. Other obstacles include common beliefs that “We are poor; we can’t give. We are entitled to international aid. Why shouldn’t they give us money since we’re occupied?” And, “Why should I help for free when other people are getting rich?” We must think differently about ourselves, our resources, and one another.

Every time I speak in public I tell the story of the women’s rights activist in Nablus who asked me to help her raise money from donors so she could hire doctors to give lectures on health topics to local women. She said she had been trying to fund the project for years without success. I pointed out that there are many, many doctors in Nablus. Each could give a lecture once a month for free as part of his or her community service. There was no need to focus on the resource she didn’t have (money), when the resource she needed (doctors) was available locally at no cost. How come that wasn’t obvious to her? How come it isn’t obvious to us all?

My first published book!

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Got ya all excited, didn’t I? You thought I had published my picture book, “Because it is Also Your Story” (co-authored with Danna Massad) or my upper middle grade novel, “Amina and the Green Olives.” Actually, neither is published yet, in fact, both are are still seeking representation. And my women’s literary fiction novel, “One Year in Beit Hanina” is still several months away from being a completed first draft.

So why am I announcing my first published book? Because when I was in Pasadena, California this summer, helping my mother move out of her home of 41 years, I found (drum roll) “The Three Fishes.” “The Three Fishes” was my first published book. (Scroll to the end of this post to see it!)

The publisher? Mrs. Paula Rao, a creative, energetic, loving teacher that I had the pleasure of studying with in the first, second and third grades at San Rafael Elementary. She published several of my books, all in hard cover, all with fancy title lettering.

Don’t laugh at my excitement. When you’re seven years old and you don’t know how to write a story (but you also don’t know that you don’t know how to write a story) and a teacher like Paula Rao publishes your book, it matters. You turn a corner. You can imagine yourself as a writer. You can imagine yourself doing anything that you can imagine.

Amidst piles of decades-old memorabilia, I also found a book I wrote that was illustrated by my best friend from those years, Desiree Larsuel (now Rollins). I found another book that I wrote which listed her as editor! I showed the books to Des one night when I took a break from sorting and packing. She laughed and laughed. She remembered those books as clearly as I did. They mattered to her too.

Before the end of the night, Desiree and I (seen in the photo on the left, taken around 1971) were talking about writing a movie, a kind of memoir of our experiences during the early years of integration in Pasadena. You see, my first grade year was the first year of busing — I had attended a segregated kindergarten class in the very same school the year before.

We have many stories yet to tell. Thanks, Mrs. Rao, for helping me to find my voice. I’m using it to give people insight into life in Palestine.

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