Back to the stories

Well, it's been nineteen days since my last real post, and it's about high time I finished out those "three experiences" I wanted to talk about. I think there are probably two main reasons why it is taking me so much time between posts: (1) It certainly is not that I do not have enough to write about--actually the opposite is true: there are so many things happening, so many stories I could tell, and so much information that I wish I could relay to everyone who is not able to be here and experience it him/herself, that it is all quite overwhelming. The task of trying to write enough to inform people who aren't here experiencing things first hand is very daunting--what if I can't provide enough information to make things understandable, are my thoughts cohesive enough for people thousands of miles away to understand them, and how will this information be received by people who have never heard this side of the story before and may not really want to listen? Educating others about the situation here in Palestine is something that was definitely a goal for my summer, but it is turning out to be a much bigger task than I ever imagined. (2) And one of the contributing factors to the fact that there is more to say than could ever be said is that I have just been incredibly busy. I am doing things constantly: taking trips, attending class, working with my volunteer placement, going to meetings and lectures, playing volleyball with some men from Beit Sahour, spending time with my family and with PSE participants, etc... There is little time at the end of my jam-packed days to sit down and try to face the giant task of summing it all up. But, I need to do this at some point, and the longer I wait, the more and more daunting the task becomes. So after this quite lengthy introduction, let me continue on with the post I made two-thirds of a month ago and briefly tell about these two other important experiences.

Having mentioned these two experiences nineteen days ago, it may have occurred to some of you that these experiences actually took place even more than nineteen days ago, which could definitely be a long time to remember the details of the events (especially as I have so much happening every day). This is definitely true (but thankfully, this should hopefully help me to keep the stories relatively short).

The first of these two experiences is one that I initially was loath to partake in: a protest. (Since some pictures of this have actually been up for quite a while in the slideshow on the side of the blog, you may have known this was coming.) Protesting was something that until relatively recently I had always viewed in a somewhat negative light. However, a class that I had this past year changed a lot of my thoughts on this as we talked about the Civil Rights Movement. (Where would it have gone if people had not been willing to protest?) Still, not considering myself an "activist" (rather, an "advocate") at this point, I decided to attend a weekly protest that is held in a village south of Bethlehem every Friday morning--but not as a participant, merely as an observer. This protest is a demonstration against the Wall which is planned to soon overtake the village and separate residents from their land where they farm. (This is a continually recurring story as more and more of the Wall is completed, weaving its way far into the West Bank, strategically annexing as much land as possible over the Green Line.) It is a small, non-violent protest, and what happens each week is that a group of villagers is joined by internationals, and they walk down a street in the village to meet up with a blockade set up that morning by the IDF (Israeli Defense Forces). After an hour or so, the protesters leave, and the IDF removes the blockade and leaves. You may be thinking that this doesn't seem like it really makes a lot of sense (what's the point of this blockade if it is only set up for a few hours a week while the protesters come?), in which case you would be thinking the same thing that a lot of people here think. Initially I didn't really want to get involved with a "protest" just because of the stigma that protesting can have, but on the other hand, I did come here to help an oppressed people. I seem to have found my niche at this protests, however, as an observer (I have been to the protests two more times since my initial experience). I feel like I am not quite an activist (there are some radical activists who come and get arrested), but I feel like I am helping the cause at the same time by contributing my international presence and witness. The international presence at these demonstrations is crucial because it provides a witness to what actually happens between the IDF and the Palestinians--without any witnesses Israel may use whatever means it so desires and not be held accountable because it is their word against the word of "Palestinian terrorists" (who are actually just peaceful activists). The first time I went to the protest, I was on a mini-bus full of CPT (Christian Peacemaker Teams) workers who all went along to participate, and we got to the demonstration without much hassle. The second and third times I went however, I was in a shared taxi and we were stopped at checkpoints on the roads to the village where the protest is held and told we were not allowed to pass. These checkpoints were set up just for those mornings, and we were forced to turn around because we could not enter a "dangerous military zone." Many of us as Americans take our First Amendment "right of the people peaceably to assemble" for granted, but Palestinians are granted no such right by Israel (or at least if it is on the books, it is not enforced). However, even though we were erroneously denied entry to the protest, we took some long, very windy, and very bumpy detours and arrived at the demonstration to face the Israeli injustice anyway. I will probably continue throughuot my time here to go and observe at this weekly protest because I definitely feel like it is part of my mission here to stand in solidarity with the oppressed.

The third experience that I wanted to relay was definitley the most dramatic encounter and the most up-close-and-personal experience I have had so far with the state of conflict here. This took place in the city of Hebron. Hebron is a very contentious city, even more so than other cities in the West Bank, because whereas in most cases, Israeli settlements are outside the cities (often grouped in rings around cities to attempt to strangle the economy and freedom of movement of the residents), in Hebron the settlements are actually in the city. The 100% Muslim population of Hebron is therefore forced to live in incredibly close quarters to the most radical and Zionist Jews in all of Israel. (The settlers in Hebron and the surrounding area are infamous for being far more confrontational, dangerous, and obnoxious than any other settlers in the state of Israel; even a majority of Israeli citizens view these people as extremists, literally "crazy people," and as a liability to the state.) There are shootings back and forth from both sides, but it is the Israeli settler children who are notorious for throwing rocks, beating, and harassing Hebronite school children and humanitarian aid workers alike. Besides shutting down the Old City markets and evicting many people from thier homes by means of blocked roads for the security of the settlements, the settlers have also made daily life an ugly reminder of their unwelcome presence because netting was needed over some streets to protect people's heads from rocks and trash settlers were throwing down on them, and people living in homes with windows adjacent to settler areas have had to put up fence to keep their windows from being continually broken by settlers throwing rocks. (See pictures in the slideshow--they are worth a thousand words.) And it was in Hebron in the Ibrahimi mosque that an Israeli settler went on a shooting rampage and massacred more than 20 Muslims during prayer. (The settlers in the area have erected a momument in his honor.) Many other things are going on in Hebron as well, such as the Israeli government trying to shut down a very important orphanage/school funded by the Islamic Charitable Society, but there is just too much that has happened and is happening to try to tell of all the issues in this city. So, what happened while I was there? Well, our group was meeting with the CPT leaders in their building in the Old City of Hebron (just as my Cross Cultural class did about a month earlier), and then in addition, we got to hear from a Muslim woman named Zleecha who lived next to CPT and allows them to use part of her house. Her house is actually adjacent to Al-Shahada Street, one of the most contentious parts of the city. Al-Shahada Street was once the main road in Hebron but then it was closed to Muslims for "sercurity purposes" (of course, since this is the excuse that Israel gives for everything it does whether it is remotely related to security or not...quite often not). According to the Oslo Accords, Al-Shahada Street was supposed to be reopened to traffic (in fact, tons of money from USAID was spent in preparation for this to happen), yet, just like so many other things that were supposed to happen, Israel never reopened the street. Zleecha is one of the few Muslim residents of the city who actually has a permit that allows her to be on the street, and so our group went out with her on the street for a walking tour as a continuation of the talk she was giving us. As you can imagine, problems were bound to arise. First we were stopped by soldiers; they checked Zleecha's permit, however, and said she was fine. After continuing to walk for two more minutes, we were stopped again when we encountered more soldiers. Even though she had just been cleared, they took her papers again and then acknowledged her clearance to be there. As we continued walking not much further, this time two Jewish settler women came running out in the street, shouting at us. They got up in the face of Zleecha, yelling fiercely at her, telling her that she was not allowed to be on the street. They yelled all kinds of threats and remarks which are not even worth repeating at members of our group. One got on her phone and immediately called the police. Then she called her husband out of their house, and he came out with his gun. Because they were causing such a commotion, soldiers at a station nearby left their posts and approached the scene. A little later, the police also arrived. All told, there were 14 soldiers and 3 police officers all at the scene, as Zleecha sarcasticaly commented, in order to "subdue one little Muslim woman." They took her papers once again, and though she had already been cleared twice, they told her that she needed to return home. The head police officer wanted her to get in their vehicle, and told her if she would not, he would arrest her. After much arguing, she finally consented and the vehicle turned around and delivered her about 200 meters back in the direction that we had come from, at her door. Zleecha reported to our group that trying to justify removing her from the street, the police officer told her that her permit said that she was allowed to walk "down" the street and not "up" the street. (She had been given the exact same excuse before, only vice versa with "down" and "up.") Obviously, there was no legitimate reason why she was not allowed on the street. We had just been walking along, doing nothing but looking around. It was because the settlers created a fuss that Zleecha was really made to return to her home. This brings up the question: who is really running the show in this situation--the soldiers or the settlers?

I have to say that immediately following this situation, I experienced more righteous anger than I may have ever before. (And every time I recount this experience, I still get incredibly heated.) This situation made so many systemic problems of injustice that I have been learning about and hearing about for months now just come alive and become very real. I experienced first-hand the threats to life and freedom that this woman faces everyday. When we were initially confronted by the settlers on the street, our group leader wanted to just turn around and walk away from the situation. The situation escalated somewhat, but finally our group did do just that--turned around and walked away. This is exactly opposite of what I wanted to do! As we turned around, every fiber of my being cried out to stay and face the situation. I wanted to just keep walking. It honestly tore me up inside to turn around, essentially surrendering to complete injustice. Turning around may have been the safer thing to do, I can easily concede that, but every part of my conscience screamed out against it. (Is being safe worth surrendering to injustice?) I have said to a few people that perhaps at that moment my "inner-activist" was awakened because I felt absolutely indignant after our retreat. I am not sure if this experience left me more heart-broken or angry (probably angry), but it has really called some things into question for me as far as advocacy versus activism are concerned. I am here with the expressed intent of standing in solidarity with oppressed people, but I am not sure right now to what level of "activism" that may or may not take me by the end of my summer. As British statesman Edmund Burke said: "All that is required for evil to prevail is for good men to do nothing." I cannot in good conscience witness all that I have witnessed and do nothing.

I've debated whether or not to include this next and final statement because I am worried about the idea some people may get, but I think that it can also help convey how strongly I have been impacted by my witnessing the situation here: I am actually beginning to understand the violent resistence of (some of) the Palestinian people. That said, I definitely do not support it and would never condone it, but I can understand why some choose to react violently. I have a magic blue passport, so as soon as I am ready to leave, I am free to come back to the U.S. and just leave everything here behind, but for the Palestinian people, there must be a pervading feeling of being trapped. For a grand majority of them, this is reality--they really are trapped: unable to travel out of an area about the size of New Jersey, often even restricted within that space by checkpoints. It is like living in prison--a large prison, but a prison nonetheless. I can only imagine living in this situation, and I imagine despair would quickly set upon me; after despair, desperation, and as a result of desperation, action--which often means violence because it is the only reaction that seems able to gain any attention here. Obviously, we all know that violence is just going to worsen the situation because violence just begets even more violence, yet I am gaining an understanding of how this violence seems to be born out of desperation. No, it does not make violence alright, but it does aid in seeing those people who resort to violence as people.

Is there hope? Certainly--there is always hope--but sometimes it is just incredibly hard to find.