i didn't write this, but i read it

I came across this article on the Colorlines blog...titled, here (at the link) "Queer Dead and Nobody Cares," but it drew my attention because the Colorlines headline is "Black Queer Hate Crimes Ignored" (not sure why they use the term 'crimes,' rather than violence, since "crime" lets the State define it...maybe because 'crime' sounds more extreme...hmm, what does it mean that 'crime' (defined by the state, often arbitrary, includes non-violent drug abuses as well as self defense, etc) sounds more 'extreme' and even 'threatening' than violence which is, well...violent. this sounds likea good topic for a future post...but i don't want to do it now, because i want you to click on this link and read this article instead):

http://www.theroot.com/id/44971

last night's nightmare

Last night I had a nightmare:

It was set in some university classroom.

The Cast of Characters: me, some white-male-zionist professor, this dude i knew in college freshman year, a friend i grew up with, and a bunch of other students that i'm pretty sure weren't based on anyone from real life.

The Basic Script of the nightmare goes...

nightmare-zionist-prof: ramblerambleramble offensivezionistcomment ramblerambleramble equationofjudaismwithzionism rambleramble.
me: attempt at revolutionary anti-zionist palestine liberation statement and statement about how he is wrong
nightmare-zionist-prof: blatant attempt to silence dissent
me: blatant attempt to tell him and everyone else that he's trying to silence dissent
nightmare-zionist-prof: really obnoxious statement about how students are young, and should not have opinions because we will soon get old and cynical
me: something along the lines of "you're supposed to be trying to empower students not silence us" but that sounded a little less rhetoric-y and also less articulate (you'd think i could be more articulate in my dreams...i mean they're dreams...)

Okay except the other detail I'm leaving out is that every time i spoke, my voice got really quiet, like someone was observing the scene and turning down my volume. AND every time i spoke, everyone else's voices - all the chatter and background sound- got way louder. So I couldn't be heard.

So okay my analysis:
we had the professor who was blatantly trying to silence dissent
and then we had the existence of this unidentifiable force that was also trying to silence dissent, and that wasn't letting me challenge the professor effectively on what he was doing...

so there are those who blatantly try to silence dissent around zionism and also a larger force that sometimes feels very intangible that's doing the same? brilliant observation, right...?
hey, i never said my dreams were deep. just hella frustrating! and totally the type of thing that would've happened in real life...in fact, if you just scroll down a few posts, back to my college days....yeah.

i say "silence dissent" rather than "silence me" because that's what it felt like - and because i did go to sleep very frustrated with certain other people who seem to want to silence dissent around zionism and aren't willing to own up to that fact....
again...i never said my dreams were deep.
i tend to have the deep, meaningful, analytical/metaphorical/symbolic thoughts when i'm awake. my dreams, unless they're reallyreally significant, are pretty straightforward most of the time. it's good, because that way when they aren't, i know i need to really focus on them.
this one i don't need to focus on.
just complain about in a blog.

strong

"like it wasn't enough they are stealing your land, they had to also steal your things," i typed into the "g-chat" box on the corner of my screen.

like it wasnt enough they are stealing your land.
they had to steal your things.

i repeat this to myself.

they are setting up a youth center in al xhaleel- more specifically in tel rumeida. you can find information about tel rumeida in past entries of this blog, because it's where i spent most of my time when i was in palestine last winter. the short version: tel rumeida is the "borderlands" of al xhaleel and the surrounding, encroaching settlements. it’s the borderlands of hebron (indigenous, arab) and "hebron" (settlers, jewish, colonized)…
part of hebron is officially under palestinian control- now don't get me wrong- it's still occupied, it's still got checkpoints, it's still got soldiers, and it still gets attacked. but palestinians have some rights like, you know, um…driving cars. being there. rights like that. then there's the other section that's under 'israeli' control – that's where the settlements are. except this piece of tell rumeida, where palestinians live. there they don't get to drive cars. they don't get to have guests who are from the other area of hebron. they are subject to constant searches and checks for "id" and they need to pass a checkpoint to get anywhere…there are roads they cannot walk on because they are 'settler' roads…etc. here, in this part of tel rumeida, they are building a youth center. and they are re-building and re-building and re-building this youth center because the settlers keep destroying it!
the youth center hosts a summer program and some really awesome dedicated folks in palestine (with some international help) are developing more year round programs for young people. all of it is very exciting. except for when it's very depressing:
F: but today we went to issa's house to make a demo about gaza
but we found that the settler break the house and stole alot of stuff from the inside"

me: i don't understand how people can do things like that. like it wasn't enough they are stealing your land
they had to also steal your things.

Right??

It is at times like this that my blood boils in shame and rebellion…
because their blood, the settlers blood, it is somehow related to mine…
and that makes me nauseous.

and because this youth center is a space for resistance. it needs to exist. it is just beginning to exist. it needs to keep existing. like palestine needs to keep existing. it all needs to keep existing. it all will keep existing. it will.

me: these things make me so angry.
you are so strong to keep on fighting it.
F: well
hamdellah we r strong

yes. hamdellah you are strong.
i wish we were all so strong. because if we were then maybe it could move beyond survival, towards liberation. maybe. if we were all so strong. i'm even not sure who i mean by "we."

breathe

I'm looking at images of phoenixes now, on google...amazing the ways we will use what we have to search for hope...sometimes quite literally!
If only I could find a way to accompany these images of phoenixes (I have such a fascination with phoenixes...it is SO revolutionarily beautiful that they rise up from the flames and/or the ashes to create something far more exquisite) with the sound of the ocean, the scent of sage and lavendar, the feel of sunlight on my back and cool water on my toes…
sounds like i should go to the beach (and bring some sage and lavendar)…
but instead, i'll try again to ground myself in the space that i'm in.
healing is hard work. it is so much easier to run from the past, feel comfortable with disjointed memories and missing pieces of the story, call fear "anger," and just run, run away. not that anger isn't a valid emotion; but it usually doesn't travel alone…it has a necessary accompaniment…fear…sometimes politics…outrage…etc.
i keep reminding myself to breathe. my breath tends to get shallow when i get nervous, and it's only when i give it my full attention that i realize i'm barely inhaling…
breathe…. deep... breathe….
because somewhere in this air, there is hope and resilience.
and this is the oxygen we need to go on living.

total eclipse

tonight was a complete lunar eclipse...seen in the Americas, in Europe, & in Africa, according to some website I read. in a lunar eclipse, the earth's shadow travels over the moon's surface, so the earth blocks the sun's rays from hitting the moon. for this to happen, the earth, the moon, and the sun must all be perfectly aligned.

Hours prior to the eclipse- which, by the way, I had no idea about at the time- I began to feel like time was being slightly shuffled about. I faced this onslaught of emotions I thought were long gone, about issues I thought were not on my mind...at least not really. From this, I felt inexplicable anxiety...As I sat curled around a pillow, wondering what was going on, my mother knocked on the door (of my bedroom in her house, where I am at the moment), and said to me "Come see the eclipse."

Aha!

Initially I glanced out the window, and saw the moon, which was fading, but not into darkness; it was fading into another shade of light, one that was reddish-brown and almost glittery. Apparently, that is the dust that generally curves towards the moon during an eclipse, and can be a variety of colors, depending on what is around the moon at that time. Overwhelmed with a desire to be closer such a magical experience, and with more-than-a-little hope that if I connected with this eclipse, which had, seemingly, caused the previously inexplicable anxiety and anger, the eclipse would, maybe, pull me out of that space...or at least give me some perspective on it. I wrapped myself in a coat, a scarf, a hat, and a blanket, and walked outside to sit and watch the sky. I watched the land as well; the trees at least. They were bright beneath the fading light of the moon and the glow of the red dust. The branches looked like they were dark black and shining white at the same time. In addition, I marveled for a moment at the way in which each branch held its self so solidly, like it was so sure of itself and its right to be in that shape, no matter what gust of wind blew it in other directions, it held so strong to what it was. The glowing absence of a moon made me feel small, but also strong, insignificant, but also spiritual. It felt like certain worlds were merging. Take that as you will...metaphor or reality...I think it can be read as either. But it felt like whatever boundaries generally regulate things like time and space were lessened, blurring a little.

When I looked up lunar eclipses on "google" I found a few things, first, one sentence I wished I'd read prior to my anxiety attacks earlier today:
"Pay attention to detail on this day and be open to sacred time versus linear time, so you can minimize frustration. "
Hmm.

Some other things I found:

"This moon will assist you to get in touch with your deeper self, your wisdom and the feelings that desire to be acknowledged, honored and respected. Expect to experience some releases emotionally as this eclipse supports clearing and detoxifying mental, emotional and physical issues in support of body, mind and spirit aligning with and embodying more of your soul's Light."

"Many are apt to experience heightened awareness as it pertains to identifying flaws in thinking or within a certain system within their lives. Through taking an inventory at this time you can apply your wisdom practically in support of navigating more consciously through some issue within your life."

Maybe this will apply to other peoples' lives as well...

I feel slightly obligated to write an "apology" now, in which I explain that I know maybe it's silly for me to talk about the moon like it's something spiritual, followed by a reassurance that my politics are the same as they always were. I'm going to resist that urge. I'm not going to apologize for this post. if you take it as nothing else, take it as a metaphor, and a chance to reflect...what does it mean when a shadow of the reality we know most intimately travels over another surface, making that other, smaller surface become hidden for a moment. what does it mean that that surface is never really hidden, but instead becomes a reflection of the dust particles around it - and those dust particles are a direct result of what has recently occurred in that location- the red is usually from some kind of volcanic explosion. what does it mean that after this shadow attempts for a moment, to vanish the smaller surface from our sight, the smaller surface (that's the moon, in case you're no longer following) shines brighter than it did before...or at least, it looks that way.
You see?
Everything is a metaphor.

bridging blogs

In the spirit of reconciliation and healing, I think it's time to reconcile my two selves...so, this is a link to my "personal" blog, which, due to the hazy 'boundary' between 'the personal' and 'the political,' which many times is not a boundary at all, is mostly about the organizing i've done in the united states...while this blog, previously, was about my time in Palestine.

I decided to combine the blogs today, when reading this article at NarcoNews: Nogales Residents Say US is Building Border Wall on Mexico's Land
and this report about indigenous self determination in the Americas

I thought, "why separate my experiences challenging one apartheid state from my experiences challenging another?"
and of course, not only is it all connected, but a great deal of the work is actually challenging both- take, for example, Adalah-NY's campaign against Lev Leviev, israeli billionaire who is (1) building settlements in the west bank, (2) building settlements- um, er, i mean, "developing" in low-income communities in Brooklyn, and (3) involved in some other shady dealings in Angola ALL of which you can learn more about here: www.mideastjustice.org

So, please see my other blog here for what you may have missed (if anyone even reads this blog anymore...) and keep reading this one for new posts...

rant about a class

In my Jewish Literature class this semester we just finished reading a book called "Mestizo." The book is a murder mystery, about a Jewish man who loses his memory after he sees the murder of his Palestinian neighbor, and is on a quest to get his memory back and also to figure out who is responsible for the murder and and whether or not he is responsible for helping the victim. It takes place in Argentina.
During the discussion in class yesterday we were talking about obligation, a theme in the novel, both Jewish and otherwise. I waited for the appropriate moment to bring up Palestine. There was no appropriate moment...the professor talked about obligation, obligation to victims in general, how it applied to el Proceso in Argentina, etc...I kept waiting. No moment.
I finally raised my hand. Clearly the professor was not going to make room for this conversation so I was just going to take room for it.
I began talking specifically about the text..."This is clearly a call to action, this discussion of obligation with inspirational language, etc etc" (I still hadn't mentioned Palestine.)


Here is what I was going to say:
"It's not a coincidence that the murdered woman is Palestinian. We're glossing over it as though it is, but a Jew doesn't just put a Palestinian in his novel without that being significant. I think it's a metaphor. The main character sees a Palestinian woman murdered and loses his memory. This is about loss of memory in the Jewish community. Loss of memory of values which were once central to a lot of Jewish communities, specifically secular ones...values which included constant debate and questioning, constant discussion, and, usually, siding with the "victim" (survivor?). Now through Zionism, many Jewish communities get lost in the politics of power. Suddenly, Jewish children are no longer encouraged to question everything, because that would include questioning the existence and the actions of "Israel." Suddenly, facts and details which we once sought out in all cases, are hidden and concealed, and we as a community all recreate and rewrite our memory when it comes to the murder of Palestinians and their situation both in Palestine and in the Diaspora- such as in Argentina. The experience that David (the main character) is going through is similar to the experience a lot of Jews have once they acknowledge the atrocities committed both past and present, by Israel- they see this, and suddenly, their entire memory is shaken, everything they were always told by people they trusted turns out to be a lie and they have to recreate everything, from their identity, to their memory, to their politics, to the action they choose, or do not choose to take...."
I was also going to mention that I was told by a Jewish Studies Professor the other day (seriously) that there is something of an unspoken policy in the Jewish Studies Department not to talk about Palestine. And how that is a perfect example of how Zionism eliminates the Jewish tradition that once existed, of questioning and discussing all the time. Now there is something we are not supposed to discuss or debate.


What was actually said (roughly, I don't remember word for word):
ME: "This is clearly a call to action, etc etc...it's not just about Jews in Argentina, it's about Jews everywhere, and people everywhere, and what our respnosibility is. But then, if it's a call to action we have to think about what action it is calling us to...I think that it's not a coincidence that the main character is Palestinian...even though it takes place in Argentina, the author is clearly trying to bring in the situation in Palestine by making her Palestinian. I think it is a metaphor. I think it is trying to say that Jews everywhere have a responsibility not just to "victims" in general but specifically to the victims in Palestine ---"
My Professor: "I'm going to have to cut you off there. We don't have time for this discussion."
She called on more students.


I sat there, feeling completely silenced and cut off. I mean, I was cut off. I thought about the irony of the fact that she silenced discussion so that I was unable to talk about how Jews refuse to talk about Palestine. She did exactly what I was talking about.
I talked to her for about an hour after class, in a conversation I began by saying "I feel a little cut off right now."
In that conversation she told me
1. Not to speak from experience, because speaking from experience is "not the same as critical analysis," and that's not what we're doing here.
2. that she thinks that professors who teach Latin American Literature in "other departments" (ie ethnic studies) are not really qualified to teach it, because they are trained in sociology or social sciences rather than literature and they do not approach it as literature, so I should disregard anything I've been told in those classrooms about authors who intentionally put politics in their work.
3. that she will not allow students to talk about "current political situations" in her classroom, and that if someone started promoting "extreme right wing Zionism" she would have cut them off as well. (So apparently it's also "extreme" to suggest that Jews might have some responsibility for the situation in Palestine...? huh....)
4. That, "Just because it fits your political, activist agenda to interpret this book as being about Palestine that doesn't mean that was the author's intention"


My radical "political activist agenda," which includes speaking from my experience about injustice in the world and our responsibility to work for change.
What about her agenda to shut down conversation about a topic we have no right to be avoiding...?
But it's never an "agenda," when it goes along with the "mainstream" view/approach to a situation right?


Argh.

Hebron quieter on Day 5 of IOF invasions into H1

Go to the link above to read this article on the ISM website

You know, I just went a few days without checking the ISM website. I'm trying hard to be present here, where I am, because what is the use of leaving my heart and half my mind so many many miles away from here? It is hard to do effective work when split in two, and there are important things going on here, and I know this. But when I check back again, this is what I see. It negates all the attempts I've made to push aside that pull towards Palestine that I've been feeling since I've been back- reading it, I think again "I should be there..." Why, I don't know. What would I do? There are some internationals there of course, that is who is writing these posts. Still...it feels wrong to get too comfortable. Things should not be comfortable here if they are not comfortable there. And when are they ever comfortable there?



February 11th, 2007 | Posted in Reports, Hebron Region, Photos

by ISM Hebron, February 11th

Today IOF soldiers occupied the roofs of three high buildings overlooking the Bab al-Zawiyya market area in Palestinian controlled Hebron (H1). For the fifth day in a row soldiers have been entering this busy commercial part of the southern West Bank town. Their presence in the past few days has sparked clashes with local Palestinian youth resulting in arrests and injuries due to tear gas and rubber bullets.

At around 4 pm a group of six soldiers used one of the buildings at the top of King Hussein Street and al-Adel street to shoot teargas at groups of young Palestinians.

They also threw down sound bombs and pointed their guns towards the public. Local youth started to throw stones , fireworks and petrol bombs towards checkpoint 56, leading to the Tel Rumeida area. Another group of six soldiers went through the checkpoint and took firing positions behind concrete blocks.

After all Palestinians had fled from the market area the soldiers retreated into Tel Rumeida.

home invasions and arrests

Reading about these things while I'm back in the U.S. makes me so angry. It sounds like it's getting worse by the day and I'm all the way over here...
After being there though, I can't just stop reading the news about what happens there. I have to pay attention. I hope that those of you who have been reading my blog feel at least a little bit of that attachment. I hope you are wondering and concerned about what is happening to these people...I hope you keep reading about it even though I am no longer there.

http://www.palsolidarity.org/main/2007/01/23/tr-ball-arrest/

in the news

Here's a news article about what's been going on in Hebron/Tel Rumeida.

http://english.aljazeera.net/NR/exeres/9CA581D6-E308-4D05-A2D3-8EA8011A164A.htm

Back in San Francisco

I got back to San Francisco the day before yesterday.

Getting through the airport wasn't as terrible as I thought it might be. But, after going through security, I sat down to eat some pizza which I reluctantly bought (I didn't want to support Israeli business, especially overpriced business at the Tel Aviv airport, but I realized I was extremely hungry, because I'd kind of forgotten to eat in all the hectic-ness of getting ready to leave). I looked across the food court to another restaurant called "Cumin: A Taste of Israel." There were pictures of shawarma and falafel sandwiches on the sign. The name was written in English in the middle and in Hebrew on either side. I don't know why, but the sign triggered all the anger I think I must have been repressing during the trip. It began simply as anger at cultural appropriation- how dare they call this a taste of Israel? Falafel and Shewarma are Palestinian, not Israeli. I thought "A taste of Israel" would have been a sign better suited to the checkpoint on the way into the airport, or one of the two stations where they search you on the way in (once before you get your ticket from the ticket counter and once again afterwards). As I let myself dwell on these thoughts which I'd been pushing away for most of my trip in order to stay in the moment and be as effective as possible, the anger expanded. I was angry at the people around me for speaking Hebrew. I was angry at them for being Israeli. I was angry at myself for being angry at the people around me, because I knew it wasn't their fault, and that my anger should be channeled towards the State of Israel, not its people, and not its language. Anger at individuals speaking the language they were raised to speak is not productive. I knew this. Yet I couldn't stop the feelings. I sat and ate my pizza as the occasional tear slid down my face. All the metaphors often used to describe anger: boiling, hot, explosive (metaphor, remember, metaphor) -- they suddenly all made sense to me. I gathered myself together and went to the gate. The anger subsided to an extent, but it was still resting in the back of my mind. As the plane took off, it was overshadowed for a moment by the feeling that I was leaving, and I wasn't ready. I was not done there.

I got home exhausted, and immediately took a nap.

When I woke up in San Francisco, my first response was something like denial. I really felt like if I left the house and went around the corner, I would be down the road from, say, the international house in Tel Rumeida.
Each time I did leave the house, I was almost surprised not to have to go through a checkpoint, and not to see any soldiers on the streets. It's amazing how quickly things like that become normalized. Suddenly it felt like a privilege to be able to move freely when going from my house, to the market to buy vegetables, and back again. Compared to life in Palestine, it is a privilege. But it shouldn't be.
It took about a day and a half before the reverse culture shock started to hit me. I was standing in line at Trader Joe's, and I'm not sure if it was the massive amounts of people, the over-abundance of stuff for sale all in one place, or just a random coincidence of timing, but suddenly, I felt an intense wave of anger come over me. It was different than the anger I felt at the airport, because I felt removed. I felt far away from the source of my anger. Again, there was a rational voice in my head telling me that I wasn't far away at all, because Israel relies on funding from the United States for its army and thus for its existence. But I wanted to be back there. I am torn between exhaustion and wanting to rest, and frustration, wanting to keep acting and resisting.
I haven't been able to talk about much other than Palestine since I've been back. I didn't realize while I was there exactly how much I had learned about the daily realities of the occupation. I've spent a lot of time so far describing checkpoints and other restrictions on movement for Palestinians, explaining all sorts of absurd Israeli laws, the Wall, everything. People are shocked. I think a lot of people here don't realize the realities over there, even if they are "aware" of the issues. I'm glad people want to listen, because as I said, I haven't been able to stop talking about it.
Now I'm trying to collect my thoughts, make a plan for returning when I have the money, figure out the details of the video work i want to do when I go back...

I don't know if anyone will keep reading this since I am no longer in Palestine, but I hope to type up something more detailed about the situation in Tel Rumeida and elsewhere in Palestine, since I realized I never actually did that, I just started talking about my personal experiences with things, and my observations.
Also, some of the kids' drawings from Tel Rumeida are going to be displayed at a bookstore in San Francisco. I will post that when it happens as well.

Demo at Huwarra Checkpoint

Today, around 11am, a group of almost 100 people gathered at Huwarra checkpoint as a part of 30 Days Against Borders, organized by the Palestinian Body for Peace, Dialogue and Equality (HASM ) and other organizations. Some Palestinians, mostly children, dressed as Native Americans in order to draw parallels between U.S. genocide against Native Americans and Israeli genocide against Palestinians. Demonstrators carried signs including one which said "Checkpoints destroy Palestinian Life." Other signs were addressed to Condoleeza Rice, who is currently in the region, including one which said "The Indian wars are not over Mrs RICE….We are still here too!!" Palestinians, Internationals, and Israelis chanted and demonstrated for about an hour in front of the checkpoint, where many people were waiting to cross.

The parallel with Native Americans is interesting. I think it's an important parallel to make, although I admit I have questions about the way people decided to make it (the outfits were definitely based on stereotypes, not reality).

The checkpoint itself was unlike any I have seen before, even the one in Bethlehem, which was really extreme. People were packed in, waiting for permission to pass. The soldiers would open the gate, let a few people out, then close it again. And for what?
I have met various other anti-Zionist Jews who said that there first time seeing a checkpoint like this they were reminded immediately of photos they'd seen of the Holocaust, where people waited behind walls and bars, packed in like cattle, glancing out, wishing for freedom. I don't know if that would have been my response had I not already heard this parallel made, but I too was struck by the similarity.

It makes me so angry. Sometimes, it feels as though the Jews took notes from their oppressors, from the people who tried to kill them, in order to use the same techniques in the ethnic cleansing of another people. How? How do they not see what they have become? Or do they see? Do they just not care? Where are the rest of the dissident Jewish voices? There is no excuse for this. There is no excuse for not speaking out against it, with all the voice we have.

There is an organization here, Israeli Committee Against House Demolitions with a slogan : "Don't say we did not know."

Demo at Huwarra Checkpoint

Jenin

Jenin

Here are some photos of Jenin...

During the bbq, which there are pictures of (click on the link!), a family member of the friends I was staying with was arrested by the IOF. We only found out later, when we were talking about the situation over tea and arguila....
He was arrested for being a member of Hamas.

Someone told me when I first arrived that every day, you think you're seeing the worst of it, and the next day, you see something worse.

I don't think I've seen the worst of it. But here, you can be arrested just for being involved in a political organization. One of the people I spent time with in Jenin spent three years in an Israeli prison just for contacting a leftist political organization. I don't think this needs any words of reflection. I think it speaks for itself. A lot of the events here speak for themselves.

Bethlehem

Bethlehem

photos photos photos

More pictures of Tel Rumeida...

More from Tel Rumeida

we have fun here too, walla...

Some photos of fun, most of which involves arguila....

fun in Tel Rumeida & Al Quds

community alternatives

I'm waiting for my photos to upload right now and I wanted to take this time to reflect on something I've been thinking about while I've been here.

In the U.S. I talk with people a lot about how to deal with violence within communities, without relying on the State, prisons, or police. Usually I talk about this in terms of sexual violence but I think it applies to other acts of violence as well. Here in Palestine, I have seen some very concrete manifestations of such alternatives which have taught me a lot.

In Tel Rumeida, there is no Palestinian police force. The only official "authorities" are the Israeli police (border police and regular) and the IOF (the soldiers). Of course the Palestinians cannot rely on any of these forces for protection. Yet Tel Rumeida is a community, and this sense of community extends to the rest of al Xhaleel (Hebron) as well.

One international woman arrived one evening in Al Xhaleel from Al Quds by herself. Her bag was stolen from her. Not knowing what to do, she called a couple of our Palestinian friends from the region. They arrived immediately and asked around, according to the description of the person who had stolen this woman's bag. They were able to figure out who it was almost immediately. They called his family and explained that this woman, who was here in solidarity with the Palestinian people, was like family to them, and that anything anyone did to her was like doing it to their own families. The family of the thief was extremely apologetic and promised to have the bag back to her with all of its contents within 2 minutes. Our Palestinian friends brought this woman to the house of this family where she retrieved her bag- with every cent and everything else still inside. All of this happened in less than two hours.
I have never heard of a police force as effective as this.

I have more examples if anyone wants to talk to me about it, but since they're more personal (not for me, but for friends) I don't feel like it's okay to post them here. In general though, I think that the examples prove that community systems of holding one another accountable can work incredibly well and are much more effective at this than any State based solution I have ever seen.

a few more days

I keep saying that I need to send out updates more often so they don't have to be as long, and then I keep not doing it. Now I only have a few more days here.


I'm in Ramallah now. Have been many places in the past few days.


The day before I left Tel Rumeida there was an action on Shuhada Street. Shuhada Street was once a part of the main market area in Tel Rumeida, but the shops on that road were shut down because of the settlement. For six years, soldiers told Palestinians it was forbidden to walk on
Shuhada Street. Recently, it was discovered that according to a military court order, it is actually not forbidden. About a week ago, a couple of Palestinians walked down the street and were able, because of the order, to convince the soldiers to accompany them (in order to
avoid "trouble," or really, attacks from the settlers) rather than prevent them from walking. This seemed like a victory at the time, but immediately afterwards, the very next day, soldiers began - again- to forbid Palestinians from walking down Shuhada Street, despite the court order, claiming that there was a new court order, or that they had never heard of such an order, etc.
On Monday, a group of Palestinians decided to walk down Shuhada Street again, holding photocopies of the court order allowing them to pass, accompanied by members of the Israeli press and a few israeli activists.
Internationals documented the event. Despite the press coverage and a rather large presence of internationals and israelis, the Palestinians were not allowed to walk down their own street. Of course it is not over, and they will try again. I guess this is the issue of hope again.
While the Palestinians and their allies stood, waiting to walk, blocked by multiple army and police jeeps and lines of soldiers, a group of settlers walked out of one of the buildings and walked, down the middle of the road, until they were out of sight.


This sight made it very clear exactly what the soldiers were there to do, and whose rights they were trying to protect. One settler man came up and started yelling at and threatening the Palestinians. One of the Palestinian women said to this settler man, as he told the Palestinians they were all terrorists, that if he would come in peace, he was welcome to come to her house. "I just want peace," she said, and she met his threats with an invitation. It was a powerful conversation. I think I have footage of it which I can share with folks when I come home, which is soon. This struggle over Shuhada Street might seem very small. It is just one street. Yet it is significant. Small steps. One street can mean a lot to the people whose street it is.


After Tel Rumeida, I stopped in Al Quds and then headed to Jenin to visit friends of a friend. It felt incredibly luxurious to be sleeping in a bed which was not just a foam mattress on the floor,
under blankets which were actually clean. These people took amazing care of us (my friend and I). They fed us wonderful food and gave us lots of coffee and tea, and showed us around town. And of course, the conversations here are always extremely interesting. People who hesitate at first, worrying that their English is not good, will ramble on and on about their political beliefs once you start asking questions. Of course I love this. I have never spent so much time listening and not speaking, and I have never learned so much.


Today I came back to Ramallah and went to the protest in Bil'in against the wall. Less tear gas this time, which was good. People tried to block the soldiers from driving their jeeps into the town, which they sometimes like to do after the protests, by sitting down in the road.
Again, this gains meaning when you take a step back for a moment. It is their village. What they were doing was sitting on their road. The soldiers started beating people and injured some.
(I'm fine, don't worry). The jeeps drove by and the other soldiers kept trying to push us further back away from the wall and into the village. Sometimes it really feels like a battle over territory. Over land. Of course, only one side is armed, so it is nothing like an equal battle.


Yet, here is a note of hope. A friend told me this story, it happened to her. She was with a family in a rural village and a woman picked up something (my friend did not know what it was) covered in many layers of thorns and sharp skin. The woman peeled away the layers of thorns and inside was a delicious fruit.
She said to my friend, "This is why they will never defeat us. They don't know the land like we do." And it is true:


The Israelis do not know how to find fruit inside of thorns. Because of this, the land will never really belong to them.


Things here are always incredibly simple and incredibly complex at exactly the same time.

listen to the children

A woman from ISM is teaching weekly art classes to the children of Tel Rumeida. These children have spent their whole lives in an occupied city, with soldiers and tanks constantly in the streets, and with settlers across the road, who often throw rocks and eggs at them. Most have suffered violence from either soldiers, settlers, or both. The children's assignment on this day was to draw a picture about their life in Tel Rumeida...take a look. I think the pictures speak for themselves. Or rather, I think the children speak quite poignantly through their drawings.

Tel Rumeida Children's Art

hope and resistance

Still in Tel Rumeida. The weather is terrible, but it's supposed to be better tomorrow. And on a positive note, it keeps the settlers inside so they are slightly less violent towards the Palestinians, which is good.


Watching peoples' lives here, I've been thinking a lot about hope- how important it is, and how people here always seem to have some left over, no matter what happens. I think maybe it is because here there is no time to lose hope. You can't. It's not just like you can't because then life would be too miserable- it's that here, hope, and living, and resistance are all intertwined and to give up one you must also give up the others. And you can't give up living, so you can't give up the others.


At the same time, I am starting to understand the desperation of people here on a different level. And how desperation and hope are not opposites, but really, to have desperation, you need to have hope, because you are desperate, hoping, for things to be different. I mean daily life for Palestinians includes checkpoints, getting asked where they're going when they're just leaving their house to go to the market, being held while an occupying force checks their ids, in the rain...the way it's standard to handcuff and blindfold people who are being detained, not even arrested, just detained...the soldiers and tanks in the streets. Doing interviews, everyone knows someone who has experienced violence from the settlers and the soldiers, if they haven't experienced any themselves, which they probably have. And then, on top of all this, they invade Ramallah. I know I already wrote about this, but this is a reflection rather than a report. On top of all this daily harassment, there is an invasion. They bulldozed cars and shops in the central square for no reason at all. And killed 4 people. And injured more. On top of it all. And then when life goes back to normal, it is not really normal at all.


The other day on Shuhada Street, the street which Palestinians walked on about a week ago for the first time in years, we tried to go through on our way back from a tour of the old city with someone's mom. Our Palestinian friend asked the soldiers if we could pass through Shuhada Street, which was the direct route from where we were to our flat.
Soldier "Where are you from?"
Friend "I'm from here"
"So you're Palestinian?"
"Yes, I'm Palestinian. But they are from U.S., Austria, South Africa, Spain..."
"South Africa? I'm from South Africa."
"She is from South Africa."
"I don't know her."
"So can we pass?"
"You are Palestinian?"
"Yes, I'm from here."
"Palestinians cannot pass on Shuhada Street."
"Can they pass?"
"Yes, they all can pass."
Of course we all turned around and went back, the long way, the way we came. Everyone can walk on this road except Palestinians. And it is their road.


I should send out more updates so they are shorter.


A couple of Israeli activists stayed here right now. Israeli anarchists to be more specific. One of them was what people refer to as a "lifesteyle anarchist." She was talking about activism, and how she thought people shouldn't be expected to be involved in active resistance, and that living "without hurting anyone," (i.e. being vegan, farming organically, etc) is enough. I've heard this argument before in the U.S., and it frustrates me, but this was different. She started talking about her family. Saying, "we are farmers, my parents just take care of their land, they are good people" talking about her friends who "live outside society" and farm "their" land on a kibbutz. At the end she says "I don't think it's fair to expect people to all be activists, these people aren't hurting anybody, they're just taking care of their land---" I interrupt "But it's not their land!" Tension rises. "Where are they supposed to go?" "I don't know where they should go. But no it is not enough for them to farm this land. Farming stolen land is not a form of resistance." But, the U.S. is also stolen land. So I think this logic can be extended.


I've been thinking a lot about that. Comparisons with the U.S. Here, colonization is just at a different point. It is towards the beginning and it is more directly militarized. But it is the same process. And it has the same goals.


Alright, that is all for now. Back to smoking narguila (hookah)....citrus flavor, mmm....