Turtles and Palestine

I have been living under the Israeli occupation for three months. I have been with people who have lived their entire lives, longer than my nearly 30 years of age, under the same occupation. An occupation that they know is visible and well known throughout the world, but which still doesn’t show any signs of ending. For three months I have lived behind the Wall that stretches from south of the West Bank to the far north.

How do the Israeli policies against Palestinians differ from the Nazi policies against the Jews, one participant at a private speach by Herbert Pundak (the father of one of the architects of the Oslo Agreement and a Danish citizen) wondered. She shouldn’t have done that, for it led more or less to the man "clicking in angle" as we say in Norwegian. He got really mad, to put it briefly. Most recently, our (Norwegian) Foreign Minister met the same reaction from the Israeli embassy because he wrote in his newly published book that the situation in Hebron commemorate the events we know from other places from other times. It is not easy for the Palestinians, nor me, to see the clear difference, but I understand why it is so vulnerable to Israel. Nazis are not primarily known for it's discrimination against Jews, but for their attempt to exterminate the Jews (Israel is only attempting to expel Palestinians), but there is no doubt that there are many symptom similarities.

A more fruitful question (for the discussion that night) would be what separate Israel's policies against the Palestinians from South Africa's apartheid policies against the blacks?

No, there is not much. Some would say there is none.

The apartheid regime in South Africa was condemned by the entire world except from the “democratic” state of Israel. A set of policies put out to clearly discriminate between whites and blacks in South Africa. One of the policies was to build various townships well insulated from the white areas, without any form of employment other than low-paid work in the white areas. Not surprisingly, it was after a visit to South Africa in 2000/01 that Ariel Sharon “found the solution” to the Palestinian issue. The result of his solution is clear for everyone today: A massive wall across the entire West Bank.

We Europeans, the children of the Cold War - or whatever we’re called - remember the word Wall only as the Berlin Wall. Every now and then we hear historical speaches held in this city (most recently from our newly elected president Obama) about how we must tear down all the walls in the world. But bad enough as that wall was, it only separated one city. Wall in the West Bank doesn’t only separate one or two cities, or just the West Bank from Israel, it separates and isolates the various Palestinian villages / towns from each other as well. Only exceptionally moving along the green line (the borders between Israel and the West Bank before 1967) it’s largely built deep inside the Palestinian territories. The apartheid wall in Palestine works primarily as a protection for the illegal settlements built deep inside Palestine and secondly to close the Palestinian cities / regions in ghettoes.

Palestinian cities / regions are well enclosed in small enclaves separated from each other, surrounded by the wall, illegal settlements and the so-called settler roads as their new borders. On the map of historical Palestine, the Palestinian areas are reduced to "spots on a leopard" as Karsten O. Tveit, a Norwegian reporter, so nicely formulates it in his book about Norwegian policies towards Israel (1978-96), while Israel controls the rest. 13% of South Africa was for the blacks during apartheid regime; today only 12% of historic Palestine is accessible for the Palestinians.

With huge unemployment, agricultural areas destroyed by the Wall, the only opportunity is to be cheap labour for the Israelis. Very few, if any, are let into Israel for work, but fortunately there are plans for joint Israeli-Palestinian industrial zones in Palestine. Imposed by the World Bank and financed by the EU (which is the milking cow for Israel's occupation) and others, there are plans to construct industrial zones close to Palestinian cities. Work will be created for poor Palestinians, and they’ll work for Israeli companies for far below the Israeli minimum wage. Actually, the Israeli business community is after many years finally talking about being able to compete in the international market, thanks to the cheap labour Palestinians will be for them. To put it even more clear; These industrial zones are nothing more than legitimizing Israeli occupation and maintaining Israeli control over Palestinian development, financed by European and other states.

During the last months, I’ve been walking next to the apartheid wall. Especially in Qalqilia (northwest of Palestine) and Jayyous area (village east of Qalqilia). It can be, and is, written several dissertations about the damage this wall has caused in Palestine. Only in Jayyous, a village of 4,500 people, the wall has confiscated 78% of the village's land. 2,000 olive trees have been completely destroyed (4,000 injured). 100 farmers have lost all their land. 1,000 workers have lost their work and around 300 families have been cut off from their main source of income. To cross the wall (or the security fence) to get to their own land on the other side, people in Jayyous must now cross two of the gates built, the south gate and north gate, which opens twice a day and have a complicated permit system. The occupying forces refuses to allow many from the same family to cross the fence. Only some (usually the oldest) from one family can cross the fence to harvest olives from their own trees on the other side. The land on the “Israeli side” is usually either confiscated by the nearby settlement, or access to it so reduced that it becomes meaningless to own the land and trees on the other side. This story repeats itself across the West Bank. Nearly 72,000 houses have been demolished since 2000 and around 300,000 olive trees are uprooted because of this wall. It is disastrous when the olive trees are the most important income source for 70% of the Palestinians.

Back in Jayyous, after a High Court decision to change the route of the Apartheid Wall, Occupation forces began uprooting trees and destroying farmland to make room for the rerouting of the Wall, resulting in even more loss for the Palestinians in Jayyous. People in Jayyous are fighting for there land these days even after all the losses they've had and the occupation forces keep crushing the demonstrations.

As we (we were a group) walked along the wall that parts Palestine, a friend of mine noticed that we had been trampled through a landscape where one might expect to find many snakes, but we didn't seen any. Only some turtles, holding on to their shells/houses, hastening away, in order to protect themselves from our tramp. The only snake in the area slithering through Palestinian land is today 450 km. long, still growing, and is 7-8 m. tall, while the Palestinians are holding on to their homes and land the best they can.

I didn't mention; The International Court of Justice (ICJ) in Hague, despite intense pressure from Israel, the US and EU Governments, confirmed (July 2005) what Palestinians and the world knew since the beginning of its planning and construction – The Wall is illegal.

For three months I have lived under this occupation, and I understand less for every day. News of the inhuman situation in Gaza, acts of violence in Hebron or poverty in Jenin fill our TV screens every day, and has done so for over 60 years, but still nothing happens. No sincere action is been taken against Israel. It’s all accepted. Israel's security is holy. So holy that no one cares about at what price, or the more significant: what about the Palestinians' security?

Since September, 3 people have been shot and killed by the occupying force in areas around Ramallah (left out are all the killings in the Gaza strip). 2 of them in Jalazone refugee camp, that is close to BirZeit and mentioned in my previous writings. Eyewitnesses say that they came too close to the security fence between the settlement Beit Il, and the camp, while Israeli forces, for their part, claim that they were ready to throw fire bombs against the settlement. What ever reason, it is difficult to understand why the soldiers had to shoot to kill. Why not a shot in the leg, arm or elsewhere to defuse the person, as this article in Haaretz questions? Why did the snipers from the occupation forces use the so-called "butterfly" or "dummy" bullets, which at hit spins around in the body and is synonymous with certain death? A type of bullet that is banned in most civilized countries, but the "largest democracy in the Middle East" doesn’t hesitate using against the Palestinians.

Since September the settlers in Palestine has killed a 14-year-old shepherd in the village Aser al Qablayh, and a 60-year-old shepherd in the Jenin district, and stolen their sheep without the occupation forces being able to do anything about it. Let alone all the difficulties the settlers have made during the harvest season in Hebron, in Kufar Qadum and so on the whole last month, and which the whole world witnessed. On Sunday, we met a 74-year-old man in Salfit, the nearest neighbour to the Ariel settlement, the largest in the West Bank with its own university, who was stripped of his 23 sheep (some of them even pregnant) by the settlers and thus lost his only source of income. The Palestinian Authorities are powerless, and the world is screaming for Israel’s security?

For three months I have lived under this occupation, but still I will never be able to understand what it is like to live under the occupation. With my magical passport, I will never be able to understand how it is to cross the numerous checkpoints as a Palestinian. I may have to stand in line for a few minutes and might even give them the evil eye, but I'll never understand what it is to be harassed by 18 years old soldiers, being stripped or whatever they please. The occupation exists in our heads, a friend of mine said to me the other day, they control everything. They tell us when we can drink, what we can drink. Even the air we breathe they control. 60 years of occupation is enough.

But for the West 60 years are not enough.

The West believes that the occupational force, Israel, can continue its abuse of force. Continue, until the Palestinians are able to guarantee Israel's security. One of the world's top 5 strongest military needs the Palestinians to guarantee their security… While the world's 5th strongest military can shoot their advanced bombs with their advanced aircrafts and helicopters and kill who ever they want, the world community demands that the Palestinians put their hands in the air, let them be shot at, see their country getting confiscated by the illegal settlements day by day and refuse to resist and even guarantee security for Israel.

That's the Oslo-agreement and the recent agreements in brief for you.

So the young Palestinians, not agreeing on giving up their land to the Zionist colonialists without resistance, that being peaceful or armed, will continue to go in and out of Israeli prisons, as over 75 % of Palestinian youth already have, and Israel will not have peace. Until someone gets the guts to make Israel stop the arbitrary arrests, use of force in Palestinian land and increasing the settlements/settlers in Palestine.

Israeli security doesn’t rely on building more checkpoints or higher walls; it relies on ending the problem: The occupation.

Happy boy, living a Happy life

I went to Beer Sheva, a city in southern Israel, on Friday. I had met a Norwegian / Israeli girl on my way from Prague to Tel Aviv, and I more or less invited myself to visit her town of Beer Sheva. We got to know each other when the passport guy in Prague wondered whether we were travelling together since she showed her Norwegian passport right after me, but unlike me she also held an Israeli passport, which was used by landing in Tel Aviv, and she was not on holidays or for studies in Israel, but to do her military service in Israel ..

We did not talk that much on our way to Tel Aviv, as we didn't sit next to each other, and although I was curious about her military service, I felt I couldn’t ask her too much about it. I got to know that she was stationed in Haifa and not on the West Bank, and she didn't object what so ever to the fact that I was going to the West Bank for studies. By landing in Tel Aviv I tried to keep as close to her as possible, so I'd stay out of trouble, but she disappeared in separate passport queue and was, understandably, much faster through than I was, but I had her phone number and now I wanted to visit her town and hoped to have a serious conversation about her, the military service and Israel.

I remember I thought much of this on the plane. How would a political Party in Norway, say (out of the blue) the Progress Party (Norwegian right wing party) react if I, as a Norwegian Pakistani had done my military service in Pakistan? What horror scenarios had not been drawn about me and my loyalty to Norway? Now, for my part, it would be quite unthinkable doing my military service in Pakistan, but where are the objections about loyalty when it comes to Israel and military service in Israel as a Norwegian citizen?

I tried to reflect over what makes a Norwegian citizen to do the military service in Israel? I know that this question may be biased, because I realize that not everyone sees the current conflict in the same way as I do, but how can anyone do their military service for an occupying force? And especially as a Norwegian citizen?

The original plan was to sleep at her grand parents place, but her grandmother said no to that, so I found me a cheap hotel when I arrived there around 10 pm. after a short trip to Tel Aviv, the only way to get from Jerusalem to Beer Sheva at that moment because of the Sabbath. I must admit my heart skipped a beat when the first question I was faced with, while asking some kids sitting by the main busstation for light, was whether I was a Muslim. I was quite shaken of it, but I had no choice than to confirm the fact. Obviously they had got an eye on my Mashallah necklace I bear, and in pure desperation and anxiety I quickly found my key of life (Ankh) necklace I also bear. "See, I have a cross too." They seemed a bit surprised by that, but I got away without any more problems or questions, other than the usual routine of where I was from. Well, actually, I don’t think I had anything to fear, but what do I know how they react to Muslims in Israel. I just know that I hadn't mentioned me being a Jew if I were a Jew in the West Bank.

Well, my big plan to ask all the questions didn't come out well. My friend asked me if I wanted to join her and her friends to a disco, which I did, and suddenly I found my self at a giant outside disco with several hundred youths enjoying their time. It was all pretty surreal. Not because I've never been in such a place before, but because we, the international students, had a party in Ramallah the night before. Of course, there were some Palestinians present too, and at the end of that party one Palestinian after the other (okay, there were only two of them who) collapsed into tears due to the impossible situation they find themselves in. "You do not know anything about me," said the one. "I carry this (as he slapped his green id-card on the table) with me. This makes me Palestinian, and not a human being. They take my dignity whenever they want. Every time I meet a soldier I'm degraded, humiliated and am no longer a human being. I'm even separated from my wife ..." was his last words, as he stormed out of the room with tears running from his eyes. I must add that at that moment he had consumed a qualified quantity of alcohol, and were quite sentimental.

But from this to now be on this gigantic party was a transition. Try to get me right, it was fun, and I have nothing against them living and enjoying life, but when the same lifestyle they want for themselves and their children is taken away from the Palestinians some small km. away, it all gets obnoxious. When the same kids at that party, including my friend, are part of the military force that steals the freedom from a regular Palestinian to even move freely through their own country, I get troubled enjoying my time. The peak was reached with the remix of "I'm a happy boy, living a happy life".

People ask me if I get some input from "the other side", and this trip was supposed to be an attempt of that, something I failed to take advantage of, but I'm pretty honest on this: There are, for me, not many "sides" on the situation here in the West Bank (or Gaza). To split the country in small parts through apartheid walls (450 km so far), numerous checkpoints and road blocks and over hundred illegal settlements with around 400.000 settlers has no excuse.

Chapter One: Preloge

I had a crazy day yesterday. Full of contrasts, contradictions and strong impressions, it was difficult to digest - and now to express. Many of the experiences I had are nearly indescribable and to truly grasp requires one to live them, but the hardest part is first and foremost to agree with yourself on what should be rendered and what should be left out. Each single impression in itself was not so unique or complex, but in a time frame of 7-8 hours, I can’t sum up the day as anything other than crazy. Therefore, this blog is in chapters.

It was Friday, and I had scheduled to travel to Jerusalem for Friday prayers – The Jumm’a. It’s Ramadan, and I hadn’t yet been in Jerusalem to al-Aqsa mosque for Jumm’a, so I was determined to get there. Another significant reason to go there on a Friday was to experience what happens at Qalandia checkpoint on Fridays. Qalandia, as told previously, is the checkpoint between Ramallah and Jerusalem. After the apartheid wall (or security fence as some call it) became reality 4-5 years ago, this checkpoint has been very notorious because all travel through Ramallah to Jerusalem passes through it, causing serious delays in everyday life. A journey that normally should take 20-30 minutes now takes at least 45 minutes.

I knew through stories from my fellow students that Israelis close this checkpoint on Fridays and people are queuing for hours in order to travel to the al-Aqsa mosque. Me, Dave and Debbie (my two American friends) arrived at Qalandia at around 10:45 AM with a taxi that normally would drive us all the way to Jerusalem. We were greeted by a large number of parked buses and taxis that were stopped on the Ramallah side of Qalandia, and we all had to walk on foot to the checkpoint to cross it. So we did. Approaching the checkpoint, we were soon among hundreds of people, young and old, men and women. All with the hope of crossing over to the Jerusalem side. The UN was represented by a couple of representatives who tried to facilitate and organize the people the best they could, Clustered among all the civilians were Israeli soldiers walking around with their fingers located on the trigger guards of their M16s, and looked pretty scary. Right in front of us, this young boy, in his late teens was pulled out of the crowd and zip tied his hands behind his back – to us for unknown reasons. No real drama in itself, but when three well-armed soldiers apprehend and drag a young boy for about 100-150 m. past the rest of the crowd. To me the scene suddenly became very dramatic - at least for a tender soul as mine.

Odds are most of the people present were probably on their way to al-Aqsa mosque. Al-Aqsa mosque is the third holiest place on earth for the Muslims, known to be the place where Mohammed ascended to heaven, and among the places all Muslims are encouraged to go visit. Of course, there are many other mosques in Ramallah and other nearby areas that can be used for Friday prayers. And many do use them, because then people don’t have to be lined up, humiliated and degraded in this way every Friday, but to put it differently, not all mosques are alike. There is a distinction between Masjid (small mosque) and al-Jami'a (large mosque as al-Aqsa) in Arabic.

The Masjid being the local mosques in every neighbourhood where people do their daily prayers, and al-Jami'a (from the root Jam'a – meaning many people/ or to gather) used for Friday prayers. Friday is called Jumm'a (from the same root as the last) in Arabic and is a day where Muslims gather. This said, these translations are not totally accurate, but that’s the essence. So, on Fridays people are urged to use a Jami’a for their Friday prayers, and not the local masjids. With regard to the al-Aqsa mosque’s religious significance, it is perhaps somewhat more understandable why such a large majority of people in the villages/towns around Jerusalem are using their holiday/ day off to travel to Jerusalem for Friday prayers, despite the humiliations it may cost. The holy month of Ramadan magnifies it even further, both the urge to get there and the humiliations sufferied in the process.

But now, we were soon to to start our journy across the Qalandia checkpoint.

Chapter Two: Qalandia Checkpoint.

We were soon going to experience the humiliations people go through.

Israel, not so fond of the huge wave of people coming to Jerusalem described in the preloge, and do their best to put obstacles for the peoples wanting to exercise their religious belief, in the form of closed checkpoints, a huge number of soldiers in front of the entrances and a literally random separation of those allowed through and those who are turned back. The general rule is no access for people under and over a certain age. When we asked one soldier he said no one under 50, but when we finally started flashing our passports, two of them even being American, we were let through the first stage almost immediately. But we still aren’t even there in the story. First we had to go from one roadblock which was closed to another around 50 meters further down the street.

To my great disappointment my camera was out of batteries so I can not illustrate this visually, so all I can give is a more detailed description. Thus, it is one way through the apartheid wall, known as the Qalandia checkpoint (next to the Qalandia refugee camp by the way). The actual checkpoint is an armoured watch tower, and a small "terminal", where all the control occurs. On a normal day, all (except foreigners and others holding blue id-cards) have to get off their taxis/buses on the Palestinian side of the checkpoint and enter the terminal for inspection, before they come out the Israeli controlled side and "retrieve" their buses on the other side to continue the travel. The road itself is blocked off with a normal barrier where soldiers check any private cars and the remaining passengers on buses. But today the entire area in front of Qalandia checkpoint was blocked off, on the Palestinian side, and two roadblocks 100 m. away from the checkpoint with a distance of 50 m. between them were set up as a pre-check to keep out the majority of the people.

Now, for some reason one of the occasional roadblocks was closed, and we had to move to the other, as did hundreds of others. When we got there we were shocked by the whole situation, and for the first few minutes we just stood there behind the other civilians and tried to grasp the logic. The soldiers were pushing people further and further behind, away from the pre-checkpoint, making a new point of gathering some meters away, as people desperately tried to show the soldiers their id-cards and their permissions to them. To get to Jerusalem, as a Palestinian, you need to hold a blue id-card in the first place. Some years ago Israel made a decision of not letting any random person in to Jerusalem and issued the blue id-cards. They were given to those who were in Jerusalem at that actual time. Those who were outside, for example, in connection with their studies or anything else, were not. For example students that are actually from Jerusalem, but were living outside Jerusalem at that particular time, when the blue cards were issued, still hold green cards, and no longer have the permission to travel to Jerusalem, their actual homes and families. It is possible to apply for explicit permission to travel to Jerusalem, but it is a long process, and seldom issued for any lengthy period of time.

So, there they were. Old people and young, presenting their id-cards in vain to the soldiers who just kept pushing them further and further back. Even I was pushed, but that’s just a digression. There were blue id-cards, green id-cards with special permission, and it was the id-card (magnetized cards) that shows that you have a working permit in Israel and there were even orange id-cards. The orange ones are unknown to me, but supposedly they are of old date. Once in a while the soldiers let some through, so we paved our way to the soldiers who did let people through. Keep in mind, through to the pre-checkpoint in front of the checkpoint.

Where are you going? The soldier asked us. The answer was pretty obvious. No, it is not possible. Not even for tourists? No, no one under 50, was the answer but since we were tourists we were told to wait a bit. Another soldier who continued to monitor us wondered why we didn’t take the usual route to Jerusalem. We wondered what (the hell) that was. Well, the road, from Tel Aviv. It is difficult to say anything back when you’re looking at the business end of an M16 assault rifle, plus Qalandia is a significant number of km. away from Tel Aviv, on the opposite side of Jerusalem. Anyway, the end of this was that my American friends got the permission to continue, and eventually even me, when I managed to point out that I was with them and was Norwegian. Norg? Cool. Well, up to the roadblock, Passport control, and so on through the open area that is quarantined and emptied behind the sporadic roadblock and moved on to Qalandia. At this emptied area, there were gathered a large amount of soldiers, and it was amazing to see this huge amount of firepower gathered. They were just sitting there, waiting for an eventuality that hopefully never occurred. A funny story was when some soldiers made a deal trading his tear gas cans for a pack of cigarettes, but we were asked to hurry up to the “terminal”.

Qalandia checkpoint is like any other checkpoint around the West Bank, sad, cold and difficult to describe with words. Israel wants to call it "terminals” to give it a better sound, but in reality it is prison-like corridors with blocks and fences. Here, briefly explained, people stay in queues in a, for lack of a better word, cattle shoot with fences on both sides for quite some while, before coming to a metal spin-doors, which you pass one by one, before finally coming to the metal detector and all that goes with that. A soldier in a cabin (one’s imagination plays games with you as you see a cabin reinforced with inches of ballistic glass reinforced with inch and a half industrial bolts, and think that they literally expect someone to blow themselves up which while in the narrow steal barred corridors of the shoot makes you wonder if you will survive) making people walk back and forth through the metal detector because it keeps beeping, and so on. But before you get that far, you’ve been in a queue and fought your way into the cattle shoot that leads you to the metal spin-doors. As previously told, people have been around for several hours (we heard people talking about 2 and even three hours among them). First just to get into the “terminal”, then to get into the cattle shoot, so obviously there is a lot of frustration, anger and despair in the air. People are shouting, yelling and pushing in order to move the line. Many unfortunate people, come through the spin-door, and just before the metal detector are asked to go back outside. It happened to a group ahead of us, but again of unknown causes. We are all well monitored by police and soldiers and waved us further all the time… And not surprisingly there were no others the same age as us around.

The roadblocks and the checkpoint can hardly be called an obstacle for us internationals by the people still waiting outside, it still took us over one hour to get across the checkpoint. But I was on my way to the holy al-Aqsa, and hundreds were still waiting at Qalandia.

Chapter Three: Jumma and Sabbath!

Finally on the other side of the checkpoint, and on board the mini bus that was going to drive us to Jerusalem, we discovered that it was now 10-15 minutes left before Friday prayers allegedly would start, and there were many high strung people in the bus that drove as fast it could. It took about fifteen minutes, due to traffic and some small roadblocks that were set up on the way to the bus station in East Jerusalem.

The bus stopped around one hundred meters away from the bus stop and then we (me and the rest of the Muslim passengers) started the race to the Mosque, young people running, elderly jogging and the even older walking as fast as they could, finally entering the old city of Jerusalem through the Damascus Gate, and moved on to al-Aqsa, a touristified old town where people were sprinting through the narrow streets to get to the mosque as fast as they could.

As many may know the old city in Jerusalem is crowded with small alleys and streets. Overfilled with street vendors of various kinds, and it is these alleyways that lead you to the entrance to the al-Aqsa compound. I took the first road leading to the mosque and from the beginning of this alley to the entrance of the compound/mosque there is perhaps 150 m. Already 50 m. into the alley I saw people were standing facing Mecca ready for prayer - outside the mosque compound! The people created two rows (saff), with a small passage left open for people to move towards the mosque. After a quick round of are-you-Muslim-what’s-your-name I was pushed on, and I finally entered the mosque from its back right corner. It was packed in there. People were, as I said, standing in the alleyways outside the mosque, and inside the compound there were people everywhere. On the stairs, on the grass, under the trees, on stones, in short, every inch was used to be able to stand and pray. People stood there, with shoes on, almost side by side with women and the only thing that mattered was to get a place to stand. It was packed full, and people had begun to stand up to get ready for prayer when I got in. I tried to get further ahead, basically because I was in the women's area (or there were mostly women there), and because I was totally in the back. When I eventually had to find a saff and get ready for pray, even the famous golden dome that itself is placed a few hundred meters behind the al-Aqsa mosque was ahead of me.

I have previously described Friday prayers in al-Aqsa as great, and recommended all my Muslim friends to experience this. The experience was enhanced further by having to "struggle" and jog with the Palestinians to get there giving it sense of greater accomplishment. Additionally, when you are out in the sun, with people everywhere and put your head on the ground in Sajjda (when people get down on the floor) and you feel the hard rock against your forehead, that alone is enough to make even the devil religious. How many actually were there is absolutely impossible to say. In some of my texts to friends, I said at least 15-20.000, and later increased it to about 50,000. In a report on Friday prayers during Ramadan from last year the journalist talked about estimates of 120,000. In today's newspapers the figure is 200,000! Big enough, at least.

By the way, In the al-Quds (albeit in Arabic that I understand only occasionally) it reported common Friday Prayers just outside the Qalandia checkpoint among those who couldn’t cross it. After the prayer, people got up and stormed toward the exits. I used the opportunity to get closer to mosque and the Dome of the Rock. Then, a second round of Friday Prayers were announced. I joined again, but this time it was a shorter version without the “reading” of the Qur’an. After that I walked around the Dome of the Rock, in other words, the world-famous golden dome that contains the stone Mohammed stood on when he ascended to heaven.

I took my time, perhaps half an hour before I started moving towards the exits. The time was 13.45 local time, and I was supposed to meet my American friends at the Damascus gate at 14.30 ... After standing in a queue for a ten minutes time I realized that the line was for the bathrooms (I apparently missed the W.C. sign) I finally got out of the mosque 13.55 through the so-called cotton market door. A normal walk from there to Damascus Gate usually takes 10 minutes, but not this time. It took me 45 minutes. Perhaps not so strange when 50.000-100.000 people storm into the narrow alleyways middle of the afternoon rush, with its many shops and business was as usual, all heading the same way. It went slowly. Very slowly. The walk to the Metro after a football match is nothing compared to this. On the way people shopped, argued and pushed. A lot of pushing, and the old ladies are the worst pushers. But there is nothing more that you can do, than to be patient and keep walking. Dave and Debbie had found the way into the old town, and I spotted them a few meters in front of me stuck in the same mass of people. Considering that it was around 30 degrees, and that people were fasting, this was a powerful effort of dimensions. I, not fasting, was completely exhausted when I came out at Damascus Gate.

My throat and body completely totally dehydrated, but we managed to wander the few hundred meters from Damascus gate to West Jerusalem, and suddenly we were in any Western European city with it’s cafe life, half empty streets and musicians on corners. It was surreal. After Qalandia and being squeezed among thousands of people to this street life, where there were hardly any people. There were a few hours to the Sabbath, and the shops had begun to close. Not only did the surroundings, like buildings and roads change, but you could see a different kind of people… The wealth was so obvious, and made us sick in the beginning, before we enjoyed the fruits of wealth in the form of a lot of water and a huge lunch. Then, we relaxed for a couple of hours listening to jazz music, before we started to move towards the Wailing Wall to witness the celebration of the Sabbath.

We found ourselves a place that was a reasonable distance from the wall, and just watched different groups doing there prayers in different forms; there was singing, dancing, regular praying in front of the wall and other “stuff”. It was a lot of joy, happiness and celebration in the words real meaning. People were dressed up for celebration. But, by that time, we were so overwhelmed with all the impressions we had had during the day, so we didn’t stay for long. The most odd thing, for me, was to see all the M16s in the crowd, carried by mostly soldiers but also some people in civilian clothes, while celebrating Sabbath. But I have to say, the day, with all its implications hadn’t left me in a good mood, and watching a huge platoon of soldiers, getting ready and marching in to the old city on their way to the Muslim Quarters as the crowd around them got ready for Sabbath, praying, and Muslims on the other side of the Wall for their Iftar didn’t get me in any better mood.

On our way back to Qalandia (it was still closed) I couldn’t think of anything else than how severely important it is for this Holy country to uphold their fundings from the Western world, cause they seriously need to upgrade their security systems. Some of the installations are starting to get old - at least a new paint job.

Jalazone refugee camp.

Heard in class, while talking about what we've heard, read or seen on the news lately:

Student A: Israeli soldiers shot and killed a palestinian man in the town of Nablus.
Teacher: Yes, that is true.
Student A: Apparantely, he was one of the 198 prisoners released by Israel last month.
Teacher: That is true too.
Student B: Why was he killed?
Teacher: No reason.
Student B: There has to be a reason?
Teacher: No reason at all.
Student B: But, then why was he killed?
Teacher: Israel is occupying our country. This is their way of achieving peace.
Student B: There must have been a reason?
Teacher: It's occupation. Israel has occupied Palestine.

Later the same day, in my english class. That is, the class (kids between 13-17, and one over 20) I'm teaching english.

Me: I'll ask you questions and I want you to answer in full sentences, ok?
Class: Yes!
Me: Mohannad, where do you live?
Mohannad: Ramallah.
Me: Yes, but try to say 'I live in Ramallah'.
Mohannad: Ok
Me: Where do you live?
Mohannad: Ramallah.

Seeing him having trouble understanding me: Have you learned any english before?
Mohannad: (answers in arabic)...
Class: No, this is his second time here.
Me: But haven't you learned english at school?
Mohannad: (answers in arabic) ...
Class: He was in prison for the last three years.
Me: Oh... Ok. (a bit stressed) What prison?
Mohannad: Sijan israeli... (Israeli prison).
Me: Why?
Mohannad: Because I love Palestine.
Me: Now that's a full senctence.

Mohannad is 16.

On Friday we visited Jalazone refugee camp close to BirZeit town. We were at a cultural center looking for possibilities of voluteer work. Visiting refugee camps is always depressing. Built by UN in 1948, it built one room each to every family, with no regard to the size of the family. With refugees from all over Israel, it's now home for over 14.000 palestinians. The one-room appartments developed into two and three floors appartments, on land owned by the neighbouring villages (Jifna). UNRWA and Jifna has a renting agreement for 99 years. 61 years has passed with no solution, and what would happen after 99 years is not good to know.

It's nearest neighbour is Beit Il (house of god), one of the biggest settlements in the West Bank (built in 1981/1982). Today 50 % of the inhabitants of Jalazone are under 16 years old, with unemployment rate around 60 % (out of the 50 % labour force). The refugee camp has one doctor for its population, one tiny playground (built by the French) and one UNRWA school up to ninth grade. The school is situated at the end of the refugee camp and is closest neighbour of the settlement just mentioned. This causing huge problems since the two, Jalazone refugee camp and Beit Il settlement, have had a number of clashes during the years, especially during the second intifada. This has stopped now, when Israel built a bypass road for the settlement, so the road seperating the camp and the settlement is no more a battlefield. But still, you cannot go too close to the separation fence, for if you do you're at risk of being shot.

By the way. Next time you land at Ben Gurion International Airport you should know that the owner of that land is in Jalazone refugee camp, heading the cultural center for youth owning no land of his own..

Rocks and Walls!

Alright. Since people have been all over me and wants me to write in english, ill give it a try, and we'll see how it goes.

Day 10 in Ramallah/BirZeit and still everything is under control. My arabic hasn't improved that much yet, mostly because I'm a bit confused by the different rules in Arabic Fussha (standard arabic) and Arabic Aamia (palestinan dialect). Like last night, i sat up really too late, doing homework, trying to learn present and past tense in standard arabic, but today, in Colloquial (as Aamia is called in English) class there were completely different words for the same thing. But, I must confess, I've strayed into the international student bubble as well, and have not been talking enough Arabic. It's hard to resist, but at least my English has improved.

Today I actually had my first English teaching job. I'm hopefully going to teach English to a group of Palestinian girls. That was pretty fun, and it also kind of helped me with my Arabic cause they would give me the Arabic translation for the English words that I wanted to explain to them. But, still, it has just been one week, and most likely my Arabic will improve, and hopefully I'll get a conversation partner, and the people studying with me will know more Arabic so we'll talk more Arabic to each other too.

Well, Since last time I've seen a bit more of the occupation and joined one of the weekly demonstrations at Bil'een village (north west of Ramallah). It wasn't that easy of a decision to make, whether to join the demonstration or not. You hear all the crazy stuff the Israelis do and might do, and little of what you hear is what you want to experience. Our "guide" to Bil'een, a BirZeit local, refused to take us to a place called Nil'een, where the Israelis assumably shoot with real bullets, and not only rubber bullets. But a small group decided to head off to Bil'een, a half hour drive from Ramallah.

Because of Ramadan it wasn't that huge of a demonstration but I had my first experience with tear gas. I mostly stood in the back but still some of the tear gas shells reached me, and I don't recommend anyone to stand in the middle of it. Basically it becomes very painful and difficult to breath as your throat constricts and your eyes burn and tear up often so much that it is near impossible to see. The effects last for several painful minutes the only relief available being the smell of onions handed out by more experienced demonstators. The demonstration wasn't, as i said, that big, and that was okay with me.

Even though we knew the Israeli soldiers at the other side could shoot with rubber bullets, they never did, but you are alarmed and frightened every time you hear the sound of a shot. The problem was that the Israelis weren't just in front of us, but also around us. So they could, and they did, attack us both from the front and from the flanks. Imagine hearing a bang sound, and all you see above you is a teargas shells flying at you, and you don't know where they'll land. One of my friends actually got hit by a teargas grenade, causing severe bruising and four days later still painful.

The "funniest" part with the whole demonstration was this huge truck the Israelis had. From time to time, when the soldiers didn't throw or shoot tear gas grenades at us, this truck came towards us and sprayed toilet water (!) on the demonstrators (pic. to the right). The ones getting wet by it, including a Scottish friend of mine, had their clothes colored blue and scented like shit the rest of the day. During the whole demonstration, as we've often seen on the television, the Palestinians shouted their anger at the Israelis and attacked armored Israelis trucks and soldiers with rocks.

You may say the reaction from the Israelis wasn't that bad, but think about it. For me it was an exotic tourist attraction, but for the people living there, it's hard facts. Israeli occupation forces put up their fences (and, of course, walls) wherever it suits them, call it their land, and there is nothing people actually living there can do about it. Well, except protesting, shouting, throwing rocks and hoping for more internationals to see their fight, and hopefully support them. Sadly, they dont. People like me come to Palestine, see their situation, blog about it, but the countries we're from don't bother making Israel obey their international obligations. On the contrary, they blame the Palestinians for putting up a resistance. Terrorism, is the magical word. We don't respect their fair elections, block their economy and as we all know put the Palestinian territories under further troubles. While, at the same time, we invite Israel into whatever is going on in Europe, be it EuroVision, European championship in Football and so on. That's the way we protest and punish Israel. Hmm. Go figure!

Well. That's it for this time. Other than this, I've been enjoying my days here in BirZeit with a huge birthday party at a local restaurant. So it's not just occupation and resistance. Life goes on, for me, and the Palestinians as well. To end this blog with something nice; Here's a nice picture of the birthday cake the restaurant made for me: