chapter 2 - marhaba, habibis

For those of you who don't know, "marhababa, habibis" means "what's up, my lovelies" in arabic, or something close to that anyway. So...marhababa from beautiful Palestine. I apologize for poor grammar and punctuation in this email, as the buttons on the keyboard do not neccessarily reflect what they actually type.

After a very very long flight from New to Heathrow to Tel Aviv, I landed in Ben Gurion airport around 5:30 in the morning yesterday and encountered my first experience with the apartheid policies of the state of Israel: no Palestinians, not even those with an American visa, are allowed to use this airport. They have to cross the bridge to Jordan and fly from there, which is much more expensive. I caught a shared taxi to Jerusalem, and on the way I sat next to a super nice Israeli lady who told me that Israel was "full of light, full of life" and pointed out that the morning mist hovering over the hillside villages looked like a wedding veil.

I have never seen anything like Jerusalem in my entire life. The city is scattered on a hillside, and the streets are all curves, steep hills, honking cab drivers cursing at each other in hebrew and arabic. This is the new part of Jerusalem, and it doesn't feel very different from a big city in America. But the Old City....it is very Old, that's for certain, I keep thinking I'm gonna see Jesus kickin' it with the disciples at any second. It is divided up loosely into 4 parts: Muslim, Christian, Jewish, Armenian. My experience so far is with the Muslim and Jewish quarters. Both are full of vendors and exotic smells. In the Muslim quarter, the number of Israeli soldiers and police is really uncomfortable, and the streets are full of trash. I arrived on a Friday, the Muslim holy day, and I saw the IDF (Israeli Defense Force) turning away people trying to enter the Muslim quarter who appeared to me to be Arabic. I asked one of the ISM coordinators about this later, and within the last year or so, the IDF has refused entry to the Wailing Wall to all Arabs on Friday.

I finally found my youth hostel, which was a big relief cuz I immediately felt at home there and I was starting to feel very out of sorts. The manager of the hostel is a Palestinian psychologist with a toothy grin and Buddha eyes, who used to be a member of the Palestinian security force until he gave it up one day 6 years ago to devote his life to non-violent resistance. He ushered me into the tea room, gave me water and a cigarette (EVERYONE smokes here) as well as advice on fending off advances from the local men.

The Faisal Tea Room

20 minutes later, I was headed to Bi'lin to join a demonstration against the wall being built by the Israeli government around the West Bank and Gaza Strip, a wall that is in various stages of completion depending on where you are, a wall that effectively keeps the Palestinians under the thumb of the IDF as they have to pass through IDF-run checkpoints anytime they want to leave and can be denied entry for any reason.

The Apartheid Wall outside Abu Dees, a suburb of Jerusalem

This email is getting long, so I'll tell you about the demonstration and then go find some breakfast. The people of Bi'lin, along with internationals and Israelis, have demonstrated peacefully every Friday for the past year and a half. We gathered in the streets with signs, guitars, Palestinian flags, and there was a performing arts group there (from abroad somewhere, I never found out where) who were dressed in crazy colorful tribal outfits full of bells that jingled as they danced.

We marched through the streets of the village, everyone clapping and mostly smiling, singing and stomping, calling for the soldiers to go home, yelling something that sounded like "yaaaaayyyy YO", I have no idea what it means, and this was a family affair, there were little kids as well as grandmas, and we all marched right up to the security fence at the edge of the village, where soldiers and Israeli settlers were already waiting.

I haven't had any training yet, and was asked to hang back and observe, so I climbed up on some rocks on the side. 3 Palestinian men jumped up on the fence and continued to lead the crown in cheers, while a few other Palestinians tried to walk through the fence as an act of civil disobedience.

This is when things got a little scary. The soldiers began firing sound bombs into the crowd - these are little orange tubes that make a really loud noise and fire off a little bit of shrapnel. People were running away and yelling and as I did that too

I felt very surreal. I thought for sure that the demo was over, but as soon as the soldiers stopped throwing bombs, the group marched right back up to the wall and started singing and shouting again. A couple internationals and Palestinians attempted to engage the soldiers in conversation, trying to let them walk through the fence a few feet and back...I remember particularly one Palestinian man trying to give a soldier an olive branch, which was refused.

A few small scuffles here and there, the soldiers were in full riot gear and standing in a line in front of the fence and used their big billy clubs on anyone who got too close. Another sound bomb went off (I think because some younger boys were throwing rocks at the soldiers) and the Palestinians decided the demo was over so everyone returned to the village. I heard later that 5 people were hit with rubber bullets, but I didn't see this.

I am still processing, and I keep comparing this protest with actions back home, and feel that myself and the other activists I know could learn so much from the persistance, creativity, and bravery of the Palestinians. Still much to say but having trouble with the words.

more later.

peace, shalom, salaam

magan


"Be the change you wish to see in the world." --Ghandi