PALESTINIAN REPORT #1
First Impressions
July 11, 2003
Zababdeh, Palestine (West Bank)
I have arrived safely in Palestine. It is hard to believe that just five days ago I was in Poole, England & a week before that, Toms River, N.J., and now I am here, in the West Bank, writing a report like those by other international activists I read so often before I left the U.S.
I thought I might miss my plane from London on Monday morning, after traveling by coach overnite to the airport. I was tired & just wanted to have a seat & relax. When I got to the check-in desk at 5 a.m.for my 6:20 flight (the desk didn't open until two hours after I arrived at the airport), the attendant said,"We don't seem to have you on the flight," and whisked off with my ticket to another desk, to which she promptly directed me. I thought the "mix up" might be an underhanded way to pull me aside for fierce questioning about what interest I had in going to Israel. But, turns out, the ticket agency from which I ordered my cheapy flight hadn't confirmed the booking with the airline. I was put on a wait list because the flight was full & then told to run to the gate as the plane was leaving in 15 minutes. There was no time to check my baggage so it could be stowed under the plane, so my nail scissors were confiscated by security guards. Rushing to the gate, I unbeknowingly dropped my boarding pass & ticket & was told to go back & find it, but a security guard carried it back to me just in time. The flights went well after that. I arrived in Tel Aviv a few minutes early.
It took about an hour to get thru the passport check in Tel Aviv. The man in front of me was questioned for at least 20 minutes before he was allowed to pass, and then another man jumped in front of me when it was my turn. I wasn't asked any tricky questions and passed easily. Once I found my luggage, I tried to call Radwan Yassin, the principal of the Arab-American School, where I will be volunteering for the first part of my stay. I had no luck with the payphone, so someone offered me their cell phone but then told me that it wouldn't work to call a number with the 059 prefix. I found out later that this is because Cellcom phones won't call Jawwal, the Palestinian network.
I decided to start out in a taxi with the directions that I had & try to call Radwan later. The Israeli taxi driver, Moshe, was very nice but didn't understand English well. I tried explaining that I wanted to go to Afula in Israel & then cross into the West Bank to the Jamala checkpoint, where a school bus driver would be waiting to pick me up. Moshe called his friend who spoke more English to translate for us. Even after talking to the friend, Moshe didn't realize that I was trying to go into Palestine until he looked at his map & found Jamala. I expected maybe anger as he grasped the fact that I would be spending my time in Palestine rather than Israel, but he just seemed confused about why I'd want to do that, and then said it was okay. He agreed to take me as far as he could. The only problem: The ride would cost all 390 of the shekels I had gotten at the currency exchange in the airport (roughly $100US).
In the meantime, I spoke on Moshe's Orange network phone to Radwan. He told me that the bus driver, Aburami, would wait for me as long as it took. I rode in the taxi from the airport for about two hours. Traffic was heavy on the Israeli highways. When we approached the West Bank and the Jalama checkpoint, cars were lined up waiting to get thru. Moshe didn't seem to realize we were entering Palestine here. I wondered if he had ever gone into Palestine. After about 10 minutes, it was our turn to talk to the soldiers. Moshe drove up to where was a uniformed & armed Israeli Defense Force solider was standing near a booth, and the soldier leaned in the window. I believe that Moshe explained to the soldier that a bus would be waiting for me nearby, but they spoke in Hebrew, so I don't know exactly what was said. Radwan told me later that the soldier didn't want to let me pass. He said I needed a permit. Moshe called him on his cell phone & passed the phone to the soldier. Radwan convinced the soldier to let me thru on foot. Soldiers younger than me with automatic weapons in full view has surrounded the car by this point & were leaning on the car. Some looked thru the window at me in the backseat. I had my passport out & was prepared to expalin myself, but no one addressed me. Eventually, we were told to go ahead. Moshe told me there was a problem, that he couldn't drive me any further, so he pulled over, I handed away my shekels, and I started walking. I wasn't clear about whether this was the first checkpoint, the only one I would have to pass thru, or how long I'd have to walk. It wasn't far. Aburami, the bus driver from the Arab-American School, waited for me just ahead, and we were quickly on our way.
There roads here are narrow. Rubble & rocks are scattered along the sides of them. We passed many tractors & farm vehicles. Abu ami pulled the bus to one side of the shoulder so we could get by. The cacti & scrub beside the roads is chalked white from the dust, as are the automobiles. The land is hilly & sparsely green. There are more plants -- olive trees, bushes, crops, cacti -- than I expected. All the buildings are block, and some are mere shells. We passed many people sitting outside villages or working the land. Abunami waved to most of them. Children started at me. The probably wonder who the white foreigner is. I think I had a smile etched on my face thruout the ride as I absorbed it all. Villages are tucked among the hills, almost stacked into them. The land & living are obviously ruff. I registered the enormous difference in lifestyle between here & England, the only other country in which I've spent a great deal of time. Palestine isn't as hot as I expected, but, then again, the sun was setting when I arrived.
I was dropped at a dorm room at the Arab-American University in Zebabdeh. About a hundred girls, students, live here during the summer semester. Dentistry seems to be a popular area of study. Shut in my room, unpacking my things when I first arrived, I felt lonely & nervous as I heard only Arabic voices. I showered & washed some clothes, then decided to look around. It was breezy & cool outside. I sat out at a table to write, and girls started coming up & introducing themselves to me. I talked to a group of them about amerika. They speak English, some better than others. When we were called inside by on of the dorm supervisors, two girls, Yasmeen & Fatima, brought me fruit, cookies & tea. I talked to them about being here. I asked them why they are dressed in tight pants & short-sleeved tops. This wasn't what I had expected. At the ISM training in New York, I was warned to wear very loose, conservative clothing & to hide my tattoos. What we would no consider revealing in the U.S. will be considered inappropriate among Muslims, I was told. This doesn't seem to be the case, although Yasmeen said that she covers her head when she goes to class, as Muslim women as expected. The dress code is more relaxed in the dorms because only girls live there.
More people came into the room then, including a girl who works with ISM. She shared my room for the nite. She is trying to organize core groups of Palestinians to form strategies for resisting the occupation. We discussed the intifada, or lack thereof. She is concerned by the frustration & cynicism that most Palestinians feel. She says mostly everyone agrees that the roadmap will be a failure because it doesn't give the Palestinians anything to hope for. I fell asleep with all of this on my mind.
Tuesday morning Aburami picked me up & brought me to the Arab-American School in Jenin. I met Radwan, & we discussed my duties here. Two other international volunteers, two women from Denmark, will help for a week. I will be moving to an ISM apartment in Jenin, which is closer to the school & from where it will be easier for me to get around. Then I can participate in ISM activities in the evenings. I was given a tour of the school. There are about 210 children 5-17 years old attending summer camp. I met some of them. I will hopefully be working with the younger classes during the day & teaching English some evenings to adult Arabs with Physicians Without Borders. The supervisor of the four kindergarten groups asked me to help her teach some English songs to the children. Most of my first day was spent in Radwan's office, where teachers sat chatting with one another. We drank numerous cups of tea & coffee. The overall atmosphere was very laid back & welcoming. Everyone has been friendly to me so far & eager to hear my opinion about this region & to share theirs.
In the evening, we drove from the school to visit an agricultural center where the staff wants to take the children on a field trip. On the way, we passed an Israeli settlement built about five years ago on seized forest land. There is a military camp with a large tower next to the camp, to protect the settlers, I was told. Part of the road running near the camp has been destroyed to make it more difficult for Palestinians to pass. Several alternative routes over piles of dirt have been made. Radwan says that the Israelis drop more dirt every once in awhile & then the Palestinians who need to get by create a new path, until that one is blocked as well. "We play cat & mouse games," he explained. These little details illustrate the challenges of life in Palestine.
Also illustrative of Palestinian life was news Wednesday morning that Israeli soldiers had shot a Palestinian couple during an early-morning raid in search of their son. The man is dead, murdered. The woman, shot in the head, remains in critical condition in the hospital. Is this news -- the death and injury of innocent people -- reported in the U.S. media with the same voracity as that of suicide bombings? Is it reported at all? I learned of this incident the same day that, during a field trip to a chicken hatchery with students from the Arab American School in Jenin, I was invited into the Palestinian hatchery owner's home and fed an elaborate meal.
The following day, Thursday, I heard that Israelis had arrested and are planning to deport four or five international activists from a peace camp established in the path of the apartheid wall being built by Israel to virtually imprison Palestinian people inside its borders. Later that day, I visited the village where the family of one of the Arab American School teachers lives and met the teacher's brothers, sisters-in-law, nieces and nephews, and his elderly mother and aunt. I was fed another elaborate, homemade meal and offered sweet, hot tea with peppermint, more delicious than any tea I have ever drank, and Arabic coffee, which is sweetened and very strong and which has an almost orange-y flavor.
The Palestinians I have met are gracious and generous, passionate about the land their families have lived on for centuries and frustrated with the Israeli intrusion here and amerika's apathy. They are teachers, students, scientists, farmers and doctors. They are angry, but they are not suicide bombers. Given the situation, is it any wonder than I feel such an affinity for the Palestinian people and such disgust toward Israel?
I will have more to tell soon. I am thinking of you as I absorb my surroundings & compare it to our lives elsewhere.
Love & revolution,
*lauren
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