But I'm Innocent, I Swear!

Although I have been here for more than eight months, there have been restrictions on my travel into the West Bank. It is only now, with only 2 ½ months to go, that I am venturing in to Ramallah regularly to volunteer with a women’s organization there. I feel like now I have a lot less to lose if I get busted and booted out of the country.

So, after all this time, I am now experiencing a ‘real’ checkpoint, Khalandiya. Up until now the others were just checkpoints with training wheels. The first time I went through Khalandiya, my stomach was in knots. The only thing that I can liken it to is how Hollywood portrays prison security. Clanging bars, inaudible PA systems, red/green lights, and people routinized to a system that only convicted criminals should experience.

I’m not all that sure if I understood the whole process, but this is what I worked out of the system: You queue up at several turnstiles. (Actually, that’s not true. You queue up for one or two turnstiles. All of the rest aren’t manned.) The turnstiles are not your average waist-high subway turnstiles. These contraptions are about 10 feet high and connected to a fence. There are soldiers behind glass who regulate when the turnstile will operate. So, if you are standing in line, the soldiers may close that turnstile and you quickly run to the next available queue. There were two queue stampedes while I was there, but I just stayed put seeing how I had no idea what was going on to begin with.

Once you get through the first turnstile, you put your belongings through an x-ray machine and you show your ID to the aforementioned soldiers behind the glass. This is where I mucked up. I didn’t see them there, so I got my bag and proceeded to the next turnstile. After realizing my mistake, I turned back to see that I was holding up the queue of starving people wanting to get home for iftar dinner (it is the holy month of Ramadan). I slapped my passport against the glass and queued up for the second turnstile. Then the bus back to Jerusalem was stopped again as we left the parking lot for another ID check.

The whole process is definitely disconcerting. You can help but feel like the next turnstile will lead to a head shaving and delousing station. The soldiers behind the window aren’t even old enough to drink in the U.S., and I shudder when I think of their conditioning. One of the key components of the security checkpoint system is to promote an atmosphere of vulnerability and uncertainty among the Palestinian population--the arbitrariness of checkpoint closures has been well-documented by international observers. I just can’t stop thinking of the Stanford Prison Experiment, and how these kids are given so much power over other human beings.



While I’ve been working on my paper, I came across a U.N. report that noted between September 2000 and December 2002, 19 women and 29 newborn infants died at military checkpoints. From 2002 to 2005, 52 pregnant women gave birth at military checkpoints. I couldn’t even imagine being in labor and having some 18 year-old kid tell me that I am not allowed to go to the hospital because I am a ‘security threat’.

It helps to understand the ID system designed to restrict movement of Palestinians within the West Bank and Gaza Strip. I don’t think that most people are even aware that these checkpoints are within the Palestinian territories—not just keeping Palestinians out of Israel. In the OPT, there are three types of IDs: West Bank, Jerusalem or Gaza. West Bankers require a permit in order to cross checkpoints along the Green Line and into Jerusalem. They also require an additional permit to travel from one Palestinian town to another or to enter the industrial zone where they work. Someone with a Jerusalem ID is permitted to travel in and out of Jerusalem and throughout most of the OPT, but this is generally in theory. People are fearful of losing their Jerusalem residency and they are just as vulnerable to harassment by border and civil police.

Could you imagine if you lived in this system? A permit to pick your kids up from school? A checkpoint between you and your next Grande-double shot-no whip-Frappachino? That would be one short assed occupation if an entire generation of U.S. soccer moms were restricted from their Saturday morning Pilates class and the end-of-season sale at Talbots. Oooh, was that snarky? Sorry--Feeling kind of irritable right now. And I’m not even fasting anymore.

One Million Voices to End the Conflict

If this was view outside your window every morning, would you ever return to Palestine to continue writing a blog? Well, I did return from Norway, although not just to write this blog. I am trapped under a landslide of work, school, and obligations. So, while I am back, I'm not going to be the most consistent blogger...


...BUT, I thought this was a really important event, so I wanted to post this website. I hope everyone adds their voice and tries to attend one of the events for One Million Voices to End the Conflict. Inshallah, I will be at the Jericho event on October 18th. Please pass the information on to everyone you know!

I'll never have an eating disorder here...

Let me apologize now for what is likely to be a post loaded with typos. The problem is that I am lying on my bed with my laptop balanced on my bulging belly making it difficult for me to tap the keys with any degree of accuracy. I have just come back from dinner at a friend’s house where her mother made a deeeee-licious meal. True to Palestinian hospitality, they stuffed me like a Koosa Mahshi. This, by the way, is exactly what we had for dinner.

I am a huge fan of Thai food. I love Mexican food. I consider Chinese a real treat. But if you want the best home cooked food on the planet, Palestine is the place to be. Koosa Mahshi is probably my favorite dish. The first time I had it was with a friend of a friend from Nablus. After one bite, I thought to myself that if I lived here permanently, I would need to invest in some elastic waist pants. Not exactly a Weight Watchers approved dish. Of course, that isn’t going to stop me from trying to make it myself.

Koosa Mahshi is stuffed zucchini. It is stuffed with rice, ground beef and what I can only guess is a little bit of heaven and then poached in the oven. Then it is simmered in a sauce made of dried goat yogurt. I know I tasted cardamom, but I’m not sure if it was in the stuffing or the sauce. My friend’s mother also made some amazing lamb and salad. The meal was topped off with a cup of sweet Arabic coffee which will no doubt have me staring at the ceiling well into the wee hours of the morning. Ah…it is all worth it though.

Eric, Here's Your Damn Post...

Yes, I KNOW June 10th was my last post. My dear friend has sent me several emails with the last post in the email body. Alright, already! I fell down the rabbit hole, OK?

Actually, I have been in "Arabic Bootcamp" at Hebrew University. They offer an intensive Literary Arabic course and I figured I could continue being a human being while taking it. I figured wrong. It was truly the most brutal course of my academic career...and I'm the kind of gal who sets the bar pretty high to begin with. The course was 5 1/2 hours a day, 5 days a week, PLUS there was 5 hours of homework a night. Brutal. I'm still suffering from some post-traumatic stress from the experience so I will refrain from expressing any opinions about the program until my head is clearer.

I realize I have missed some really important events while I've been away. I have been scribbling notes on scraps of paper so I could get back to the house to write a post about events as they came up. Alas, I was a slave to this course. I'll try to do better in the future.

The People Who Should Be in the News

Ok, I'm getting some saddle sores from ranting on top of my high horse in the last few posts.

Moving on... At Tantur this weekend, my friend was exhibiting pictures from her Palestinian children's photo project. Check out the link below to see Palestine through the eyes of children. It really is such a great organization and I really admire her dedication to non-violent resistance. http://www.contrastproject.org/

One last thing, I just saw a documentary about the Parent's Circle. This is a group of Palestinians and Israelis who have lost their children or family to violence and have realized that the only way for the conflict to end is for them to reach out to others who have lost loved ones. http://www.theparentscircle.org/about.asp

The movie is titled Encounter Point. If you can find a screening of it, please watch it. At the very least, watch the trailer below. It will change the way you see the conflict--or at least you'll be able to see Palestinians and Israelis the way I see them. Turn off the news and meet the real people in this conflict:



http://www.encounterpoint.com/trailer/quicktime7.php

See No Evil, Hear No Evil...even when it hits you like a 30 foot wall.

This weekend I went to Tantur for part of the June 5th Initiative events. Above is a picture of the set-up. It seems pretty fitting that the Wall is snaking behind the stage. It kind of puts to bed the notion that this is just a "fence". It is so tragic that many Israelis aren't even aware of how the Wall is weaving through the West Bank--not along the Green Line. The intention is to encircle Jerusalem to create new boundaries. The consequence is that Palestinian families are finding themselves on the wrong side of the fence and being physically barricaded from their family and neighbors, their property on the other side, their jobs, their hospitals... Could you imagine if you woke up one morning and found that the end of your street, on which you've lived your entire life, was blocked off by soldiers and your new view was of a concrete slab. Holy crap, I've heard of bigger protests coming from neighborhood associations demanding the dismantlement of tacky lawn ornaments. This is a little more important than pink flamingos.

I think that the Israelis who came to the events at Tantur were very courageous and I admire their curiosity. One friend was asked quite a few questions. One asked if the Wall was really as big as the activists were saying it was. She just kind of blinked and pointed behind her. "It's right there." They were absolutely shocked that they hadn't seen it. I bet they were wondering "How did I miss that big, fucking Wall?

I'm always a little suspicious when an expat begins passionately talking about the Occupation and speaks critically of all Israeli citizens. As if the reaction to the occupation by the average Israeli on the street was so uncommon on the historical continuum of this violent, hateful world; people naturally avoid seeing things and addressing topics that make them uncomfortable. Wasn't the Holocaust indicative of that? How 'bout Rwanda? How 'bout Sudan RIGHT NOW? How many people regularly discuss the desperate poverty and crime within their own country? How many people really delve into the issues behind the endemic homelessness in cities around the world, especially the U.S.? How many people recognize that human trafficking and child pornography exists everywhere? How many people really take the time to get to know other people from different races, religions, and economic stratum? Let alone get involved to put an end to human suffering within their own borders? People don't ask the hard questions because usually they're not ready to hear the answers and make the tough choices necessary to act. Scratch that. Once you know the reality, acting is not a "choice", it is a moral obligation mandated by all religions. Don't like that reality? Become an atheist--I'm sorry if I offended any atheists.

Social ills exist everywhere in one form or another. I suppose this is part of the reason I can't be "pro" or "anti" anything. I think that we all need to address social justice issues in countries outside our own with a little more humility and a little less "us against them" arrogance. I don't mean that Palestinians and Israelis should do anything. I have no business telling people who have suffered from experiences that I hope to never know, what they "should" or "should not" do. When I say "we", I'm talking about the expat community that becomes voluntarily entrenched in the conflict. What this conflict needs is a group of people who can show their support while remaining vigilant watchdogs for opportunities that lead to peace. Sadly, I don't know too many expats courageous enough to build relationships in both East & West Jerusalem.

My Kind of War

I hope these guys make it huge--so unbelievably talented. Check out more of their videos at http://www.baratsandbereta.com/