PALESTINIAN REPORT #2
They're Watching Our Every Move
July 19, 2003
Jenin, Palestine (West Bank)
Last Saturday I began preparing to teach my first English class for non-native speakers: nine employees of Doctors Without Borders and two employees of the Arab-American School. Iyad, the director of the English language lab at the Arab-American University, where I’ve been staying in a dorm, was very helpful. He has offered me access to the textbooks, workbooks and cassettes in the lab, as well as the use of the lab whenever it is free. Seeing the resources available eased my mind a bit about teaching this class, but I’m still worried that I’m getting in over my head. Learning a second language is hard! I know: I’ve been trying to learn Arabic and have picked up a little (shway). At least I’ll be able to sympathize with my students. I have so much respect for those Palestinians I’ve met so far who speak English. English is entirely different than their native tongue -- different alphabet, different accent, different pronunciation, different sentence order -- yet they have mastered it and can communicate with me easily.
Many Palestinians have been learning English since they were young and are well-acquainted with the language. For example, I am teaching English songs and games to elementary-age students as young as 5. They are picking it up really quickly, too. Most of them already know words such as “Hello” and “Goodbye,” and they get a big kick out of saying these to me when they see me. They also enjoy slapping my palms or giving me high-fives. Kids are so much fun. I brought bubbles with me, and I blew some for them the other day, and they just went crazy, popping them and laughing and getting soapy liquid on their hands. And on Wednesday, we took the young kids swimming at a public pool in Jenin. (Because I am foreigner, I was allowed to swim in pants and a T-shirt; Muslim women are not permitted to swim in public, except in women's-only spaces.) The children were all over me in the water. They made me carry them on my back and throw them in the air and splash them. When I didn't understand what they were asking me, they demonstrated. My favorite thing about children is how they can be amused by the simplest things. And it’s very rewarding to see them enjoying themselves and having a good time because they have so much to deal with otherwise.
A university student named Mohammed told me the other day that the children have gotten used to tanks and soliders and guns and violence, destruction and death, but I still don't think it is healthy for them to be in this kind of environment. I know that it is hard for me. I have a difficult time talking to people about the atrocities they have gone thru, & I get stressed out when I see tanks parked alongside a road with their guns pointed at the passing cars or when I see a soldier carrying a huge machine gun as casually as if it were a book or a loaf of bread. I have had a few experiences with soldiers already. On the trip from the school in Jenin to the university in the village of Zebabdeh, we had to pass through an impromptu checkpoint (the locals call them "pop checkpoints," like pop quizzes b/c you never know when they will happen or where) near one of the Israeli settlements. An Israeli soldier had put big stones in the road to create a sort of obstacle course, and vehicles had to maneuver through this obstacle and then stop to talk to him. The questions probably went along the lines of “Where are you going?,” “Why?,” “Where are you from?,” “Who is with you?” and “What do you have in the vehicle with you?” If the soldier decides that your answers are valid, he may let you continue on your way. If not – or if he is in a bad mood or if he thinks you look funny – he can tell you to turn around and try another time. In this case, we were waved along, maybe because I, an obvious foreigner, was sitting in the front seat within the soldier's view.
Tuesday morning, though, we came upon another of these pop checkpoints. There was a long line of cars in either direction, and there were at least four soldiers. Two of them were searching a service taxi (a van that a group of people who are going to the same place share and split the cost of because there is no public transportation in the occupied territories). The driver of the bus I was riding in with two other employees of the school asked me to approach the soldiers and ask for their permission to pass on to the school, as we had to start picking up the children for class. I felt terrible carrying my amerikan passport as though it is some kind of emblem of my superiority over the other people waiting, but I recognized the convenience of my privilege and how it could be used in this situation to benefit the Palestinians with whom I was traveling.
I went up to the soldiers. “I am trying to get to a school in Jenin. May the bus I’m in pass?”
"Where are you from? New Jersey?" he asked as he reviewed my passport.
“Yes, that’s where I was born. I’m from amerika, and I’m on my way to Jenin.” I explained.
“You don’t need to go there,” he said and started to hand me back my passport.
“I want to go there. I have been invited to visit.”
“You want to go there? Are you by yourself?” he asked.
“No, there is the driver of the bus and two teachers.”
“Okay, come ahead.”
I returned triumphantly to the bus and told the men inside that we were given permission to go through. Aburami, the driver said, “Very good, Lauren. Jayiid jidan.” So this was a happy ending to the story. But I couldn't help but think of what would've happened to the teachers and the bus driver if I hadn't been with them. I suspect they would have been turned away or at least detained for an hour, regardless of their hurry. Here was a bus driver, whose job it is to pick up the children waiting outside of their homes for a ride to skool. The children and their families were depending on him, and he had a responsibility to his paying job so that he can earn a paycheck and live a normal life. The other two men in the bus with me were on their way to their jobs at the skool as well. And here I was, an amerikan, on vacation. It mattered least whether or not I was able to get to Jenin, but yet I was the reason they were able to pass.
This illusion of amerikan superiority was illustrated for me again later that day in a conversation with Zaid, a Palestinian who teaches English at the Arab-American University in Zebabdeh. When I told him about my experience that morning, he said that he once approached a checkpoint and asked the soldier in English if he could pass. "Are you an amerikan?" the soldier asked. He replied that no, he is Palestinian. "Than go to hell," the soldier responded.
Imagine this happening to you as you are traveling on the highway on your way to an important appointment. Imagine that, instead of encountering a tollbooth, you come to a checkpoint staffed by soldiers with big guns. Imagine always having to justify your every move to these soldiers who has such contempt for you, who believes that you are an interloper on his god-given land. Imagine having to explain to them why you are going to visit your friend or your sister, why you are going to work, why you want to travel to the part of your homeland that you do. And imagine knowing that the soldiers can deny you entry without having to justify their decision to anyone, certainly not to you. Not only is it extrememly inconvenient and time consuming, it is stressful and psychologically torturous.
Restriction of movement has been the theme of the past week for me. The other day, I saw a tank on the side of the road as I was passing. This wasn't my first time seeing a tank since I've been here, but for some reason, seeing it got me thinking about the reason Israel has tanks in Palestine. What are the purpose of tanks? Tanks are used during a ground war, when going into battle against an enemy also equipped with tanks. But here are so many tanks in the West Bank, where there isn't another military and where there certainly aren't other tanks, and, theoretically, where there isn't a ground war being fought. Guerrilla fighters are the biggest threat to Israel. What use are tanks against guerrillas? How can Israel justify the purchase and use of these tanks, which are bought and paid for by amerika. Why does Israel have tanks in the West Bank and Gaza? It is a form of psychological warfare against the people, a way of demonstrating the immense military might of Israel, its ability to torment and threaten an unarmed, demilitarized population.
The apartheid wall will serve the same purpose. For those of you not familiar with it, the wall will encircle the West Bank and will cut into Palestinian land delineated by the Green Line. In order to build this wall, then, Israel has had to confiscate land from Palestinians. The wall will effectively separate Palestinians from their land on the other side of the wall and from one another, as well as serving as a symbol of Israel's power over the people. There will be only something like four gates in this wall for Palestinians to pass. Israel claims that the wall is a security measure, but this is a sham. As pointed out by the professor Zaid, if a guerrilla attacker wants to go somewhere on the other side of the wall, he can dig trenches underneath or find some other way of getting across. Someone determined to kill herself is willing to take risks and is virtually unstoppable. The people that will really be affected by the wall, who will be the most hurt by its construction, are those who do not want to take risks or break the law or do what the Israelis have forbidden them to do. So it will further restrict the movement of families, students, people whose farms are on the other side of the wall, anyone who has any reason to travel to the land that is still considered part of the West Bank, even tho Israel has decided that they should no longer go there easily -- not that it was easy before. Read more about the wall here: http://www.palestinemonitor.org/Special%20Section/Closure/Separation_wall_cover.htm (if this like doesn't work, cut and paste in address box above)
I'm not sending out these updates as often as I thought I would be because I have been so busy doing other things. On Friday, the holy day here and one of my days off, I joined the International Solidarity Movement for a roadblock removal in a village called Burqeen. On Thursday, while visiting the home of Mohammed, the university student I mentioned earlier, I told his family that I would be removing this roadblock. I found out that Mohammed's father is from Burqeen, that he has a farm there and many friends. "You will clear this roadblock, and then I can travel to Burqeen," he said. "I have wanted to go there for a long time and have been unable."
On the way to Burqeen on Friday, the two taxis of us 7 internationals (Danes, Swedes, Americans, an Irishman, a Canadian & a Brit) were stopped by two soldiers in a tank. We all had to get out of the car, produce our passports and say where we were going. When we said that we were going to Burqeen, the soldiers said, "Don't go there. Go to Tel Aviv. Go to Haifa. Go to the beach." This is the second time I've encountered soldiers and the second time I've been encouraged to go elsewhere. Clearly, the Israelis want to keep the West Bank closed from tourists, to keep the Palestinians isolated from other people, even from each other.
When we arrived in Burqeen, we met in the town square with some local coordinators and a local bulldozer operator. A parade of us traveled to the huge mound of dirt and rocks blocking the road between Burqeen and Jenin. I have seen other roadblocks in the Jenin district where the residents have found other means of passing, whether over the dirt or around it, but this roadblock really sealed off the Jenin-Burqeen path. The road runs between two steep hills, so there was no way a car could drive around the dirt pile, which was at least 10 feet high. Since this road has been unusable for the past week or two, the people have to take longer, alternate routes that require stopping along the way to answer soldiers' questions. Opening this road will save the people at least 25 minutes travel time and much harassment. With the bulldozer, the removal went very easily and quickly. About 30 Palestinians were there, including about 10 children shoveling and using pickaxes to move the earth. There was a lot of cheering and celebrating as the mound was moved to make the road usable again. Before the work was even complete, several vehicles, including a tractor, went thru. One man stopped to say, "Thanks for opening this road." I felt almost ashamed accepting his praise because we internationals didn't have to work very hard. Our presence would have come in handy if soldiers would have shown up to try to stop the work and possibly arrest people or confiscate the community's bulldozer, but the work went off without interference, so mostly we just stood around watching.
Still, being there for the clearing of this roadblock was such a rewarding experience. I could see the results of the work right away and felt like we'd really done something to help the local community. Lots of pictures were taken to record the event. On the way back to the village, a group of us rode on the bulldozer. I sat in the scooper on the front with about 12 other people, including some of the local children and teenagers. The driver raised the scooper every once in awhile & honked as we passed people. I felt like the queen of a parade. The day was so celebratory and fun, and everyone was so happy. We took the opened road home that evening to Jenin. Success. Now Mohammed's father can visit his home village, at least until the Israelis block the road again.
One roadblock down, hundreds more to go.
I miss you all.
Love & revolution,
*lauren
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