This article, by Nir Hasson, is a fascinating set of personal arguments from some Jewish Israelis who are protesting the evacuation of Palestinian residents of Sheikh Jarrah (a neighborhood in East Jerusalem). "The Orthodox Jews fighting the Judaization of East Jerusalem" The article is long, but well worth the read.
I think about this question sometimes... wondering why some of the 'most religious' among the Jews are the ones living in settlements in the West Bank, and treating Palestinians as less than human beings. I know that many religious Jews would disagree, and say that the settlers believe an incorrect version of the Torah. But one cannot deny that some interpretations of the Torah are spurring this settler movement on; particularly the belief that Jews should conquer and inhabit all of the land of Israel.
It seems that every religion has currents, controversies and sects. Just as Islam's image was betrayed by the atrocities committed by some extremist Muslims, Jews who are violent settlers are betraying a much more loving side of Judaism. Christianity also has its own number of extremists, blaming Katrina's destruction on homosexuals for example. Each religion has those who use the religion's texts as evidence for their black-and-white version of the world.
That's why hearing stories of Jews who share a strong love for God and for Israel can be uplifting, because they can still stand up for the rights of Palestinians. As one man says in the article: in Sheikh Jarrah there is no mistaking the bad guys from the good guys. Just as in the West Bank settlements, there is no mistaking the settlers as the bad guys and the Palestinians as the good guys. Absolutely no mistaking: and if you came and saw for yourself, you would agree. No matter your political background or previous understanding of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, there is no mistaking oppression when you see it face-to-face.
Though I confess being ignorant of most things in Judaism, I feel that no matter what, God wants us to treat other human beings as human beings - with respect and love. Despite any other precept He may have set out for us, this is the first - in Islam, Christianity and Judaism. I wish these Jews who are advocating the humanity of Palestinians all the strength they need, and wish more religious Jews in the settlements would examine all the precepts in Judaism, not just those that tell them to conquer the land.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Monday, June 28, 2010
Iraq Boreen
Last weekend in Nablus, we also visited a very small village called Iraq Boreen. It is a unique and beautiful village, situated on top of a huge rock overlooking Tel and the valley. From the village, the views are amazing of all of Palestine/Israel and the sea. Unfortunately, Iraq Boreen also suffers from its close proximity to an Israeli-Jewish settlement.
On Fridays, settlers from nearby walk on the hills which overlook Iraq Boreen, shouting slogans and attempting to provoke the villagers into a fight. One Friday in March, a Palestinian boy named Mohamed started throwing stones at the settlers after being insulted and provoked, and Israeli soldiers (who guard the village to 'protect' the settlers) shot him. His cousin Osaid, seeing him shot in the street, ran to try to drag him to safety. The soldiers shot him, too.
These two boys, young teenagers, are now considered martyrs to the Palestinian cause. Because one of them was a brother to a student at PEFE, Darin wanted to visit them. Around Iraq Boreen and Tel, there are numerous pictures of martyrs pasted on streets and hanging on signs. At Osaid's family house in Iraq Boreen, his picture was hanging outside and in the living room. His younger sister also had a picture of him hanging around her neck from a small string.
Osaid and Mohamed pictured as martyrs in Iraq Boreen
We sat with Osaid's family, and they offered us coffee and tea. Having recently been to 3omra in Saudi Arabia, which is a mini-pilgrimage, they also offered us holy water brought from Mecca to drink, called zamzam. Their generosity is overwhelming, particularly only 3 months from their son's death. We sat with them, Osaid's portrait hanging from the wall above us, watching over his family.
Poster from the Intifada, with Yasser Arafat
Inscription at top reads: "The Resistance and Martyrs of Tel"
Graffiti, Tel village
Imagine losing your son/brother in a senseless act like this, in the village where all your family lives and has built their lives. Imagine having neighbors such as the settlers, who believe themselves superior to you, and who are slowly trying to force you off the land; who provoke and harass you day after day. Try to imagine the deep frustration and sadness this would bring, and the despair. Imagine having the lives of your children cheapened, and knowing that your life is worth less than your Jewish neighbors. Again, this is the reality of the occupation.
On Fridays, settlers from nearby walk on the hills which overlook Iraq Boreen, shouting slogans and attempting to provoke the villagers into a fight. One Friday in March, a Palestinian boy named Mohamed started throwing stones at the settlers after being insulted and provoked, and Israeli soldiers (who guard the village to 'protect' the settlers) shot him. His cousin Osaid, seeing him shot in the street, ran to try to drag him to safety. The soldiers shot him, too.
These two boys, young teenagers, are now considered martyrs to the Palestinian cause. Because one of them was a brother to a student at PEFE, Darin wanted to visit them. Around Iraq Boreen and Tel, there are numerous pictures of martyrs pasted on streets and hanging on signs. At Osaid's family house in Iraq Boreen, his picture was hanging outside and in the living room. His younger sister also had a picture of him hanging around her neck from a small string.
Osaid and Mohamed pictured as martyrs in Iraq Boreen
We sat with Osaid's family, and they offered us coffee and tea. Having recently been to 3omra in Saudi Arabia, which is a mini-pilgrimage, they also offered us holy water brought from Mecca to drink, called zamzam. Their generosity is overwhelming, particularly only 3 months from their son's death. We sat with them, Osaid's portrait hanging from the wall above us, watching over his family.
Poster from the Intifada, with Yasser Arafat
Inscription at top reads: "The Resistance and Martyrs of Tel"
Graffiti, Tel village
Imagine losing your son/brother in a senseless act like this, in the village where all your family lives and has built their lives. Imagine having neighbors such as the settlers, who believe themselves superior to you, and who are slowly trying to force you off the land; who provoke and harass you day after day. Try to imagine the deep frustration and sadness this would bring, and the despair. Imagine having the lives of your children cheapened, and knowing that your life is worth less than your Jewish neighbors. Again, this is the reality of the occupation.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Nablus and Tel
This weekend, Darin's family took me with them to Nablus and Tel, their home village. The road from Ramallah to Nablus is about an hour long, and we set off Friday morning packed into the car. As we drove, Darin's father kept a running commentary for me of the villages and towns that we passed. He also pointed out the Jewish settlements along the way. The whole road from Ramallah to Nablus is lined with settlements, all of them on the tops of the hills. There is a gas station next to the road, fenced in and only available for Jewish settlers to use. Each settlement has a new road curving off the highway to the hills above, blocked with a checkpoint at the entrance.
As we arrived to Nablus, I could see it is a beautiful city. Nestled between two long, hilly mountains, Nablus looks like a cozy, comfortable city from above. There are numerous large white apartment buildings, and some beautiful rooftops of mosques and churches lining the neighborhoods near the mountain. From the road above, Nablus was picturesque. From below, as we explored the souq (market) and browsed through everything from pecans to sheep bladders to underwear and gold jewelry, Nablus was bustling with activity. Nablus is also famous for the best konafe, a special Palestinian dessert made with sweet white cheese, pistachios, sweet water and some sort of crunchy sweet stuff (no idea what it is!). It was as good as I always heard. :)
View of Nablus
Outside the bustle of the city, just over the mountain, lies Tel. Tel is a small Palestinian town/village with a population of about 5,500. After meeting numerous Zeidan aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, children.. (I was overwhelmed!) and saying a lot of marhabas and kef halkoom and kissing lots of women on the cheeks repeatedly :) we went out walking around the village. The Zeidans have some land on top of a hill near the village – its set up like a small summer camp. They had beds hanging from the trees! It was so cool, like Swiss Family Robinson Palestinian-style. :) From their perch on the hill, we could see the Mediterranean Sea. I could see Tel Aviv, Hadera, Cesarea beach, and the lights of the towns of Israel/1948 Palestine. It was amazing.
Darin's Aunt, who reminded me of my Great Grandma
Darin and I
Uncle Talal's Story
The more somber part of this trip was hearing stories of the occupation and oppression that weighs on the people in Tel and Nablus as they face the reality of a life without freedom of movement. One of Darin's uncles, Talal (or Abu Mohamed), lives in a small building at the 'camp' place on the hill that I just described. He used to work with the Palestinian Authority and worked outside the country for them, but then decided that he wanted to move back to Tel and bring his family with him. His family was in Jordan, waiting to move. Talal moved back to Tel just before the Second Intifada started in 2000, not knowing that it would mean years of separation from his family. After arriving in Tel, Talal had to apply for a Palestinian ID and permission to stay in the West Bank – but when the Intifada erupted he had no way to get them. For eight years Talal lived on the mountain illegally, afraid to travel anywhere for fear of being deported. He was also unable to get permits for his family to come to Palestine from Jordan. For eight years, Talal did not see his wife or children. Then finally in 2009, he was able to obtain an ID card from the Palestinian government, and was able to visit his family in Jordan. Two of his sons were able to apply for permission to visit Palestine because they were under 18 years old, and so they are now staying with him for the summer in Tel. His wife and other children are still in Jordan.
Graffiti from the 2nd Intifada, Tel village
It is maddening to hear of stories like Uncle Talal; regular people who worked hard and never got into any trouble in their lives, but are unable to have the most simple things in life. All this due to these RULES as I said in an earlier post: the ridiculous, cruel rules that govern the lives of Palestinians. That's what living under occupation means.
As we arrived to Nablus, I could see it is a beautiful city. Nestled between two long, hilly mountains, Nablus looks like a cozy, comfortable city from above. There are numerous large white apartment buildings, and some beautiful rooftops of mosques and churches lining the neighborhoods near the mountain. From the road above, Nablus was picturesque. From below, as we explored the souq (market) and browsed through everything from pecans to sheep bladders to underwear and gold jewelry, Nablus was bustling with activity. Nablus is also famous for the best konafe, a special Palestinian dessert made with sweet white cheese, pistachios, sweet water and some sort of crunchy sweet stuff (no idea what it is!). It was as good as I always heard. :)
View of Nablus
Outside the bustle of the city, just over the mountain, lies Tel. Tel is a small Palestinian town/village with a population of about 5,500. After meeting numerous Zeidan aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, children.. (I was overwhelmed!) and saying a lot of marhabas and kef halkoom and kissing lots of women on the cheeks repeatedly :) we went out walking around the village. The Zeidans have some land on top of a hill near the village – its set up like a small summer camp. They had beds hanging from the trees! It was so cool, like Swiss Family Robinson Palestinian-style. :) From their perch on the hill, we could see the Mediterranean Sea. I could see Tel Aviv, Hadera, Cesarea beach, and the lights of the towns of Israel/1948 Palestine. It was amazing.
Darin's Aunt, who reminded me of my Great Grandma
Darin and I
Uncle Talal's Story
The more somber part of this trip was hearing stories of the occupation and oppression that weighs on the people in Tel and Nablus as they face the reality of a life without freedom of movement. One of Darin's uncles, Talal (or Abu Mohamed), lives in a small building at the 'camp' place on the hill that I just described. He used to work with the Palestinian Authority and worked outside the country for them, but then decided that he wanted to move back to Tel and bring his family with him. His family was in Jordan, waiting to move. Talal moved back to Tel just before the Second Intifada started in 2000, not knowing that it would mean years of separation from his family. After arriving in Tel, Talal had to apply for a Palestinian ID and permission to stay in the West Bank – but when the Intifada erupted he had no way to get them. For eight years Talal lived on the mountain illegally, afraid to travel anywhere for fear of being deported. He was also unable to get permits for his family to come to Palestine from Jordan. For eight years, Talal did not see his wife or children. Then finally in 2009, he was able to obtain an ID card from the Palestinian government, and was able to visit his family in Jordan. Two of his sons were able to apply for permission to visit Palestine because they were under 18 years old, and so they are now staying with him for the summer in Tel. His wife and other children are still in Jordan.
Graffiti from the 2nd Intifada, Tel village
It is maddening to hear of stories like Uncle Talal; regular people who worked hard and never got into any trouble in their lives, but are unable to have the most simple things in life. All this due to these RULES as I said in an earlier post: the ridiculous, cruel rules that govern the lives of Palestinians. That's what living under occupation means.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
the Meaning(s) of Zionism
A few months ago, I heard a podcast on APM Speaking of Faith called “Curiosity over Assumptions” - about a new partnership called New Ground in Los Angeles. This partnership is between Muslim and Jewish Americans, coming together to talk and build real relationships both within and between their communities. (Listen to the podcast here).
As part of this initiative, New Ground focused on the linguistics and terms that Jews and Muslims use, particularly in talking about Israel and Palestine. There are certain words that trigger emotions in this conflict. Think of terms like occupation, settlement, 1948, 1967, colony, apartheid, anti-semitism.... to the very names of the places themselves: Israel, Palestine.
A word that New Ground talked about is Zionism. As a factual term, Zionism broadly refers to the Jewish nationalist movement formally started by Theodor Herzl in the late 1800s, calling for Jewish self-determination and the creation of a Jewish State. Today, 62 years after the establishment of Israel in 1948, Zionism means vastly different things to different people – including within the Jewish community. It particularly means something different to most Muslims and Arabs.
In the United States, New Ground is tackling this issue by talking with young Muslim and Jewish people and calling on them to think critically about their perspectives, while challenging them to form relationships and encounter the “other” in a real way. Examining a term like Zionism brings to light the difficulty of communication – of not shying away from the 'elephant in the room' (the Israeli-Palestinian conflict).
For many Jewish people, both in America and in Israel, the term Zionism symbolizes the longing for a homeland, for belonging. It can also mean safety, security... after decades and centuries of moving from country to country. It could mean unity, a movement of Jewish people coming together. Perhaps most of all, Zionism for many Jews means hope.. for the future of the Jewish community.
For many Muslims and Arabs, also from around the world, Zionism means colonization, imperialism and conquest. It symbolizes the force that killed Arabs, that forced them from their land. Zionism is the idea that de-validated Arab and Muslim ties to the Holy Land. When used in political speeches in the Arab world, Zionism is usually used as a profusely negative term – the 'Zionist entity' being a derogatory term for the State of Israel.
Words like Zionism mean so much in forming the identity of Muslims, Arabs, Jews, Israelis, Palestinians, and even Christians in this conflict. The huge gap in meaning for a word like Zionism make communication nearly impossible to achieve between the two sides. I think addressing these terms and confronting the real meanings behind these words could have a breakthrough effect in communication – allowing people to understand and see the emotions that tie people of many religions and cultures across the world to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. I hope to address this issue at NYU in the coming year, and learn more from organizations like New Ground that are pioneering this approach. Personally, I also need to keep examining my own interpretations of words used in this conflict, and be aware of the meanings and emotions that I attach to them.
As part of this initiative, New Ground focused on the linguistics and terms that Jews and Muslims use, particularly in talking about Israel and Palestine. There are certain words that trigger emotions in this conflict. Think of terms like occupation, settlement, 1948, 1967, colony, apartheid, anti-semitism.... to the very names of the places themselves: Israel, Palestine.
A word that New Ground talked about is Zionism. As a factual term, Zionism broadly refers to the Jewish nationalist movement formally started by Theodor Herzl in the late 1800s, calling for Jewish self-determination and the creation of a Jewish State. Today, 62 years after the establishment of Israel in 1948, Zionism means vastly different things to different people – including within the Jewish community. It particularly means something different to most Muslims and Arabs.
In the United States, New Ground is tackling this issue by talking with young Muslim and Jewish people and calling on them to think critically about their perspectives, while challenging them to form relationships and encounter the “other” in a real way. Examining a term like Zionism brings to light the difficulty of communication – of not shying away from the 'elephant in the room' (the Israeli-Palestinian conflict).
For many Jewish people, both in America and in Israel, the term Zionism symbolizes the longing for a homeland, for belonging. It can also mean safety, security... after decades and centuries of moving from country to country. It could mean unity, a movement of Jewish people coming together. Perhaps most of all, Zionism for many Jews means hope.. for the future of the Jewish community.
For many Muslims and Arabs, also from around the world, Zionism means colonization, imperialism and conquest. It symbolizes the force that killed Arabs, that forced them from their land. Zionism is the idea that de-validated Arab and Muslim ties to the Holy Land. When used in political speeches in the Arab world, Zionism is usually used as a profusely negative term – the 'Zionist entity' being a derogatory term for the State of Israel.
Words like Zionism mean so much in forming the identity of Muslims, Arabs, Jews, Israelis, Palestinians, and even Christians in this conflict. The huge gap in meaning for a word like Zionism make communication nearly impossible to achieve between the two sides. I think addressing these terms and confronting the real meanings behind these words could have a breakthrough effect in communication – allowing people to understand and see the emotions that tie people of many religions and cultures across the world to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. I hope to address this issue at NYU in the coming year, and learn more from organizations like New Ground that are pioneering this approach. Personally, I also need to keep examining my own interpretations of words used in this conflict, and be aware of the meanings and emotions that I attach to them.
Two Crazy Martyrs Needed
Will it really take two crazy people, willing to make the ultimate sacrifice, to make peace in Israel/Palestine? Perhaps. I like this blog article by Bradley Burston.
A Special Place in Hell -- Wanted: Two Mad Martyrs to make a Mideast Peace.
A Special Place in Hell -- Wanted: Two Mad Martyrs to make a Mideast Peace.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
The Waiting Game for Gazans
Most of the world has now heard about the siege on Gaza. A small strip of land with around 1.5 million people, simply cut off from the world. Sometimes it's hard to imagine what this actually means for real people, their real lives interrupted by a ridiculously inhumane policy of isolation. Here, I've met a couple of friends who are from Gaza, and I wanted to share a bit about them.
Nizar
Each evening this week, Nizar has said his goodbyes to friends here in Ramallah. Each morning, he has awoken and kept his mobile phone nearby, waiting until around 12 noon to see whether the Israeli army will call him to come to the office and issue him a permission to travel back to Gaza. When the permission does arrive, he will have a 2-3 hour window in which to get to the office, pick up the permit, and leave the West Bank on a straight taxi route to Gaza. Once he arrives in Gaza, he is not allowed to leave. After spending 2 years in the U.S. getting his Masters, he started working for a USAID contractor. Then he went to Jordan to take care of his mother who was getting medical treatment there, and now he has been in Ramallah for a month, in limbo. Even with his education and good job connections, he cannot avoid the effects of this occupation. He is leaving friends and a successful job in order to go to his family in Gaza and take care of them; each day he is on standby, ready to say his final goodbyes.
Asem
Asem is the goalkeeper for the Palestinian national football (soccer) team. His wife and son are in Gaza, and he has not seen them for over a year and a half. He said that in Gaza, playing for teams there can earn him a maximum of about 1,000 shekels per month. Here in the West Bank, for the national team, he earns about $4,000 USD per month. This is the difference that keeps him here, and he sends money to Gaza for his family. The last time he saw his wife and son, he arranged for them to cross through Rafah into Egypt, and he met them there for a week. Now that Egypt has opened the Rafah crossing again, he will try to arrange a similar meeting. He has also tried for months to get a permit for his wife and son to live with him in the West Bank, or at least visit. These attempts are all denied by Israeli authorities. So, Asem is stuck. Just as many Gazans are, stuck without options, either inside or outside their land.
This conflict, and the siege on Gaza, is both unsustainable and completely inhumane. Israel may be trying to starve Hamas out of power, or protect itself from what it sees as a terrorist threat. But isolating millions of people from one another, both inside and outside Gaza, is not accomplishing any of these aims. In fact, it is increasing the suffering of ordinary people and catalyzing even more frustration and anger.
Forcing people to wait, and wait, and wait for life to improve – for choices to come – for the chance to see their families – this waiting is so painful. So cruel and inhumane.
Nizar
Each evening this week, Nizar has said his goodbyes to friends here in Ramallah. Each morning, he has awoken and kept his mobile phone nearby, waiting until around 12 noon to see whether the Israeli army will call him to come to the office and issue him a permission to travel back to Gaza. When the permission does arrive, he will have a 2-3 hour window in which to get to the office, pick up the permit, and leave the West Bank on a straight taxi route to Gaza. Once he arrives in Gaza, he is not allowed to leave. After spending 2 years in the U.S. getting his Masters, he started working for a USAID contractor. Then he went to Jordan to take care of his mother who was getting medical treatment there, and now he has been in Ramallah for a month, in limbo. Even with his education and good job connections, he cannot avoid the effects of this occupation. He is leaving friends and a successful job in order to go to his family in Gaza and take care of them; each day he is on standby, ready to say his final goodbyes.
Asem
Asem is the goalkeeper for the Palestinian national football (soccer) team. His wife and son are in Gaza, and he has not seen them for over a year and a half. He said that in Gaza, playing for teams there can earn him a maximum of about 1,000 shekels per month. Here in the West Bank, for the national team, he earns about $4,000 USD per month. This is the difference that keeps him here, and he sends money to Gaza for his family. The last time he saw his wife and son, he arranged for them to cross through Rafah into Egypt, and he met them there for a week. Now that Egypt has opened the Rafah crossing again, he will try to arrange a similar meeting. He has also tried for months to get a permit for his wife and son to live with him in the West Bank, or at least visit. These attempts are all denied by Israeli authorities. So, Asem is stuck. Just as many Gazans are, stuck without options, either inside or outside their land.
This conflict, and the siege on Gaza, is both unsustainable and completely inhumane. Israel may be trying to starve Hamas out of power, or protect itself from what it sees as a terrorist threat. But isolating millions of people from one another, both inside and outside Gaza, is not accomplishing any of these aims. In fact, it is increasing the suffering of ordinary people and catalyzing even more frustration and anger.
Forcing people to wait, and wait, and wait for life to improve – for choices to come – for the chance to see their families – this waiting is so painful. So cruel and inhumane.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
What's in a name..?
Something that we may not think enough about here in Palestine/Israel is the importance of names. The layers of history in this land have also created layers of names... from ancient languages like Aramaic and Canaanite, to ancient Hebrew and Arabic. Now of course, there are new layers of names in Arabic, Hebrew and English which contest each other for recognition.
For example, here are a list of some of the major cities in Palestine/Israel and their respective names in the three languages (the best transliteration I could manage):
Arabic - Hebrew - English
Al Quds - Yerushaleim - Jerusalem
Nablus - Shechem - Nablus
Al Khalil - Hevron - Hebron
Ariha - Yericho - Jericho
Al Nasra - Natzrat - Nazareth
Tabariyya - Tveriya - Tiberias
Yaffa - Yafo - Jaffa
Maybe the issue of names seems bland, but in fact it is a very sensitive political and cultural issue. Names are a tool of the Occupation. On some road signs, you find the names of the cities written in Hebrew, and again in Arabic letters but the Hebrew name. For example, instead of writing “Al-Quds” in Arabic, the signs read “Yerushaleim” spelled in Arabic letters. Sometimes the signs have both versions written in Arabic, such as the sign below. This erasing of the Arabic names from recognition is a slow attempt by Israel to marginalize Arab culture here and change the way the land is perceived by the outside. As you might notice, already most of the cities here are known in English by a variation on the Hebrew name. Rarely will you find a foreigner outside of Palestine/Israel who knows of Al-Quds or Al-Khalil.
Sign for Jerusalem, with Transliteration "Yerushaleim" in Arabic script along with (Al-Quds)
Beyond the names of these large cities, over 400 Arab villages and towns within the 1967 borders (Green Line) have had their Arabic names erased from legal record, replaced by new Hebrew names. When I lived in Kufr Qarea last year, often my Arab friends would point out road signs of small Jewish towns, and remind me: “this used to be an Arab village called _____.” There are so many Arab cities and villages whose names have been erased - after the Palestinians were forced to leave in 1948 Jewish people sometimes moved into their homes. Some of the places are not small, some I never knew had an Arab name before. For example, Eilat was Um Rashrash, Megiddo was Al Ajone, and Tel Aviv University is built on the remains of a town called Sheikh Moanis. My friends have not forgotten the original Arab villages there, but perhaps the next generation will. When names are erased from the record, eventually they fade from memory.
This is a tool of occupation, of erasing history. The Arab Palestinians who lived in these villages and cities before 1948 were forcefully expelled from their homes. Remembering their heritage and history is the right of Arab people here. And inside the West Bank, the replacing of Arabic names with Hebrew is another tool of colonization; with the Israelis seeking to maintain even more control over the recognition and memory of places.
Names do have meaning. We can respect the Hebrew names here and know their connection to this land in history, but that does not mean we must erase the Arab connection and memory. So try to remember – Al-Quds (The Holy), al-Khalil (The Friend), and Ariha (Fragrant/Sweet Smell) – along with Jerusalem, Hebron and Jericho. These names may mean more than we realize.
For example, here are a list of some of the major cities in Palestine/Israel and their respective names in the three languages (the best transliteration I could manage):
Arabic - Hebrew - English
Al Quds - Yerushaleim - Jerusalem
Nablus - Shechem - Nablus
Al Khalil - Hevron - Hebron
Ariha - Yericho - Jericho
Al Nasra - Natzrat - Nazareth
Tabariyya - Tveriya - Tiberias
Yaffa - Yafo - Jaffa
Maybe the issue of names seems bland, but in fact it is a very sensitive political and cultural issue. Names are a tool of the Occupation. On some road signs, you find the names of the cities written in Hebrew, and again in Arabic letters but the Hebrew name. For example, instead of writing “Al-Quds” in Arabic, the signs read “Yerushaleim” spelled in Arabic letters. Sometimes the signs have both versions written in Arabic, such as the sign below. This erasing of the Arabic names from recognition is a slow attempt by Israel to marginalize Arab culture here and change the way the land is perceived by the outside. As you might notice, already most of the cities here are known in English by a variation on the Hebrew name. Rarely will you find a foreigner outside of Palestine/Israel who knows of Al-Quds or Al-Khalil.
Sign for Jerusalem, with Transliteration "Yerushaleim" in Arabic script along with (Al-Quds)
Beyond the names of these large cities, over 400 Arab villages and towns within the 1967 borders (Green Line) have had their Arabic names erased from legal record, replaced by new Hebrew names. When I lived in Kufr Qarea last year, often my Arab friends would point out road signs of small Jewish towns, and remind me: “this used to be an Arab village called _____.” There are so many Arab cities and villages whose names have been erased - after the Palestinians were forced to leave in 1948 Jewish people sometimes moved into their homes. Some of the places are not small, some I never knew had an Arab name before. For example, Eilat was Um Rashrash, Megiddo was Al Ajone, and Tel Aviv University is built on the remains of a town called Sheikh Moanis. My friends have not forgotten the original Arab villages there, but perhaps the next generation will. When names are erased from the record, eventually they fade from memory.
This is a tool of occupation, of erasing history. The Arab Palestinians who lived in these villages and cities before 1948 were forcefully expelled from their homes. Remembering their heritage and history is the right of Arab people here. And inside the West Bank, the replacing of Arabic names with Hebrew is another tool of colonization; with the Israelis seeking to maintain even more control over the recognition and memory of places.
Names do have meaning. We can respect the Hebrew names here and know their connection to this land in history, but that does not mean we must erase the Arab connection and memory. So try to remember – Al-Quds (The Holy), al-Khalil (The Friend), and Ariha (Fragrant/Sweet Smell) – along with Jerusalem, Hebron and Jericho. These names may mean more than we realize.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Separate and Unequal
This weekend I went to Tel Aviv. With my Israeli visa, I am able to cross the checkpoints back from the West Bank, and make my way by bus to anywhere I want to go in Israel. To West Jerusalem (al-Quds), to the malls, to Yaffa old city or Nazareth. But I do so feeling a bit sad, and guilty. Because friends in the West Bank are unable to go to the sea, though they live less than 100 km from it.
So much of understanding the situation here in Israel-Palestine is knowing the rules that govern people's lives here, and how those rules create a society that is both separate and unequal. For Palestinians inside the West Bank, those who do not have foreign connections or jobs with an international organization, traveling to see the sea is a wistful dream. Only by obtaining difficult day permits are they able to pass through the checkpoints into Israel. Due to these restrictions on travel, many Palestinians have never seen the Mediterranean Sea.
For me, it makes me once again realize how lucky I am to be able to travel. How much a simply piece of documentation like an American passport gets me in this life. How privileged we are. I saw the sea yesterday, and I was thinking of my friends in Ramallah. Wishing they could see it too.
So much of understanding the situation here in Israel-Palestine is knowing the rules that govern people's lives here, and how those rules create a society that is both separate and unequal. For Palestinians inside the West Bank, those who do not have foreign connections or jobs with an international organization, traveling to see the sea is a wistful dream. Only by obtaining difficult day permits are they able to pass through the checkpoints into Israel. Due to these restrictions on travel, many Palestinians have never seen the Mediterranean Sea.
For me, it makes me once again realize how lucky I am to be able to travel. How much a simply piece of documentation like an American passport gets me in this life. How privileged we are. I saw the sea yesterday, and I was thinking of my friends in Ramallah. Wishing they could see it too.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Hebron's very own Robin Hood
There is another place along with medieval England that has a scourge of the rich and a defender of the poor. Stealing from the wealthy and sharing the gold in the streets. Yes, Hebron seems to have its own Robin Hood.
Hebron's Robin Hood is an unlikely character. We stumbled upon him outside the Old City at about 11pm, wearing a black polo shirt, jeans and white tennis shoes while puffing avidly on cigarettes. As he railed against Israel and the Occupation, rich businessman profiting from the political situation and the mukhabarat (security services) interference in daily life, he seemed just another slightly deranged, frustrated man on the street. But I did wonder where he got his new black designer polo shirt....
And then I heard his real story. Raised in an abusive household, he started stealing during his early teenage years. Quickly developing a reputation as a thief among the all-knowing Palestinian community of the Old City, he continued to hone his craft and began more daring feats. Throughout, he had bouts of time in prison and run-ins with the police. But each time, he persevered and returned to steal again.
But Robin Hood steals from the rich. The rich Palestinians of Hebron, those with mansions; the banks and big businesses that are glaring peculiarities in this economically-deprived city. One of his most daring feats was a full-scale bank robbery, which he followed up by distributing gold to his neighbors in the Old City streets. (So I'm told). Always, he shares his loot, giving money to all his large family, neighbors, and friends. He also has a soft spot for certain friends, and has been known to warn some NGOs of upcoming raids planned on their facilities.
As someone told me, “if he kept all he stole, he would be the richest man in Hebron.” But Robin Hood is generous, and subversive. Money is not the reward of theft. Rather, the reward is a life rebelling against all the cruel forces that turn innocent children into thieves and make poor beggars of Palestinians deprived of their dignity and freedom. So Robin Hood lives on, and unlikely hero in Hebron. Even if he does like to buy a black designer shirt now and again. :)
Hebron's Robin Hood is an unlikely character. We stumbled upon him outside the Old City at about 11pm, wearing a black polo shirt, jeans and white tennis shoes while puffing avidly on cigarettes. As he railed against Israel and the Occupation, rich businessman profiting from the political situation and the mukhabarat (security services) interference in daily life, he seemed just another slightly deranged, frustrated man on the street. But I did wonder where he got his new black designer polo shirt....
And then I heard his real story. Raised in an abusive household, he started stealing during his early teenage years. Quickly developing a reputation as a thief among the all-knowing Palestinian community of the Old City, he continued to hone his craft and began more daring feats. Throughout, he had bouts of time in prison and run-ins with the police. But each time, he persevered and returned to steal again.
But Robin Hood steals from the rich. The rich Palestinians of Hebron, those with mansions; the banks and big businesses that are glaring peculiarities in this economically-deprived city. One of his most daring feats was a full-scale bank robbery, which he followed up by distributing gold to his neighbors in the Old City streets. (So I'm told). Always, he shares his loot, giving money to all his large family, neighbors, and friends. He also has a soft spot for certain friends, and has been known to warn some NGOs of upcoming raids planned on their facilities.
As someone told me, “if he kept all he stole, he would be the richest man in Hebron.” But Robin Hood is generous, and subversive. Money is not the reward of theft. Rather, the reward is a life rebelling against all the cruel forces that turn innocent children into thieves and make poor beggars of Palestinians deprived of their dignity and freedom. So Robin Hood lives on, and unlikely hero in Hebron. Even if he does like to buy a black designer shirt now and again. :)
Monday, June 14, 2010
Right to Resist: Boycott of Israeli settlement products
“Palestinian Takes a Road Less Traveled.” Palestinian PM Salam Fayyad promotes boycott of Israeli settlement products. (NY Times article here).
I had a reminder of non-violent resistance in Palestine today. A nationwide boycott of goods produced in Israeli settlements.
Salam Fayyad, the Prime Minister of the PA West Bank government, announced the boycott in late May. Palestinian shops and businesses have been asked to rid themselves of any products made in Israeli settlements. These settlements are Israeli towns and cities that have been built within occupied West Bank territory since 1967. Under international law, building on territory forcefully occupied in wartime is illegal, yet Israeli policy has allowed these settlements to develop into a huge network of over 450,000 people in over 200 towns/cities/outposts that dominate 40% of West Bank territory.
As most people are aware, the settlement issue is perhaps the single most contentious problem between the Obama Administration and the Israeli government. This issue is complicated and deserves far more explanation of Israeli domestic politics than I can do in this post. Suffice it to say, the settlements are the cause of immense suffering for the Palestinian population and are perhaps the number one catalyst for continued conflict.
This is not the first Palestinian boycott. Fayyad can be credited with bringing this settlement boycott to international attention, but not inspiring a new idea. After speaking with friends here, I learned that there have been many boycotts of Israeli products, in varying degrees. I also learned that many people here boycott all Israeli products , not only those produced in the settlements. The other day I went to the supermarket and brought back some snacks for my colleagues in the office. I bought a chocolate bar with a familiar wrapper, not thinking about where it was made. After living inside Israel last year, I am familiar with Israeli products and so thought nothing of it. However, when I offered the chocolate to the office director, she kindly refused, explaining that they are boycotting Israeli goods. Awkward for me, but a great reminder to remember where I am – on the other side of the Green Line.
Demonstration in support of the boycott
My ill-advised purchase :)
Though U.S. policy usually asks Palestinians to cooperate in the peace process, promote economic partnerships, and crack down on militant groups, it forgets that Palestinians also have the right to resist this occupation. Working for peace does not take away the need to resist the humiliations that accompany life here. I would like more Americans to realize all the ways in which Palestinians resist every day through their normal lives, without violence. I hope that this boycott will show the world a larger, more organized and poignant demonstration of this resistance.
I had a reminder of non-violent resistance in Palestine today. A nationwide boycott of goods produced in Israeli settlements.
Salam Fayyad, the Prime Minister of the PA West Bank government, announced the boycott in late May. Palestinian shops and businesses have been asked to rid themselves of any products made in Israeli settlements. These settlements are Israeli towns and cities that have been built within occupied West Bank territory since 1967. Under international law, building on territory forcefully occupied in wartime is illegal, yet Israeli policy has allowed these settlements to develop into a huge network of over 450,000 people in over 200 towns/cities/outposts that dominate 40% of West Bank territory.
As most people are aware, the settlement issue is perhaps the single most contentious problem between the Obama Administration and the Israeli government. This issue is complicated and deserves far more explanation of Israeli domestic politics than I can do in this post. Suffice it to say, the settlements are the cause of immense suffering for the Palestinian population and are perhaps the number one catalyst for continued conflict.
This is not the first Palestinian boycott. Fayyad can be credited with bringing this settlement boycott to international attention, but not inspiring a new idea. After speaking with friends here, I learned that there have been many boycotts of Israeli products, in varying degrees. I also learned that many people here boycott all Israeli products , not only those produced in the settlements. The other day I went to the supermarket and brought back some snacks for my colleagues in the office. I bought a chocolate bar with a familiar wrapper, not thinking about where it was made. After living inside Israel last year, I am familiar with Israeli products and so thought nothing of it. However, when I offered the chocolate to the office director, she kindly refused, explaining that they are boycotting Israeli goods. Awkward for me, but a great reminder to remember where I am – on the other side of the Green Line.
Demonstration in support of the boycott
My ill-advised purchase :)Though U.S. policy usually asks Palestinians to cooperate in the peace process, promote economic partnerships, and crack down on militant groups, it forgets that Palestinians also have the right to resist this occupation. Working for peace does not take away the need to resist the humiliations that accompany life here. I would like more Americans to realize all the ways in which Palestinians resist every day through their normal lives, without violence. I hope that this boycott will show the world a larger, more organized and poignant demonstration of this resistance.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Interview about Hebron Old City
Please find below an interview with my friend Zleikha about the situation in Hebron. You can skip the first minute if you wish, to where she begins speaking.
Protesting the Closure of Shehada Street
Yesterday in Hebron I went to a demonstration in Hebron's Old City. The demonstration is held every Saturday in protest of the closures of streets and shops. Certain streets in the Old City, including the main street (called Shehada Street - Street of Martyrs) are closed to Palestinian use. They are only allowed to be used by settlers. These policies have devastated the economy of the whole center of Hebron.
Below are pictures of the protest.
Settlers watching the protest.
In front of the gate, speaking with some Israeli soldiers.
Settlers threw water down on the Palestinian market street during the protest.
Protesters.
Graffiti in the Old City.
Below are pictures of the protest.
Settlers watching the protest.
In front of the gate, speaking with some Israeli soldiers.
Settlers threw water down on the Palestinian market street during the protest.
Protesters.
Graffiti in the Old City.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Hebron visit
I visited my friend Zleikha in al-Khalil (Hebron) for the weekend. For the last couple of days I've been considering how easy it is to pass judgments on people and places, particularly before knowing them well enough. Any society, even any person may be full of contradictions.
Palestine is a complex place. Sometimes I want to place this society into a particular box. The other day, I was talking to a friend about the lack of alone time here. Since moving to Ramallah last week, I think the only time that I've spent alone has been taking a shower. It is the stark opposite of life in NYC, where I spent so much time alone studying, shopping, walking, riding the subway... it is an extreme transition. But after coming to Hebron today and seeing Zleikha, I am reminded that it is not every person here in Palestine who is surrounded by people. Zleikha and her mother have a quiet house, and both spend a lot of time alone. Likewise, there are people in NYC who I'm sure spend all their time with people. One can never assume that contradictions don't exist.
Hebron hasn't changed much from what I see. The Jewish Israeli settlements are still towering above the Old City, and there are some new wire mesh covers over the souq shielding more garbage from above. (See picture below) If this is the first time you're familiar with this - the settlers often throw garbage or stones down at the Palestinians in the market, so the people have rigged these wires up for protection. Zleikha's house is just as beautiful as ever, especially her balcony garden fertilized with her kitchen compost.
Zleikha is still busy with her work, translating, organizing events, and running her kindergarten. Tomorrow I plan to go with her to a protest in the Old City. Palestinians here gather each Saturday to protest the closure of streets in the area, which has shut down much of the economy here. Zleikha and I chatted this afternoon about her recent 3omra to Mecca (a mini-pilgrimage) in Saudi Arabia. She said she came back to Hebron and felt like a stranger, concerned about the lack of true religiosity among people here and particularly the increasing attention-grabbing styles of women's clothing. As always, she and I have differing perspectives on some issues, but we have lively discussions and I always learn so much from talking with her. She also ironically commented that though the street at the front of her house (Shehada St - Street of Martyrs) has been closed to Palestinians for a few years now and it is a major issue of protest for the people, she has to admit that it is much quieter and more peaceful for sleeping at night. :) This comment made me smile. Finding a bit of peace in the midst of Occupation is certainly to be cherished.
Palestine is a complex place. Sometimes I want to place this society into a particular box. The other day, I was talking to a friend about the lack of alone time here. Since moving to Ramallah last week, I think the only time that I've spent alone has been taking a shower. It is the stark opposite of life in NYC, where I spent so much time alone studying, shopping, walking, riding the subway... it is an extreme transition. But after coming to Hebron today and seeing Zleikha, I am reminded that it is not every person here in Palestine who is surrounded by people. Zleikha and her mother have a quiet house, and both spend a lot of time alone. Likewise, there are people in NYC who I'm sure spend all their time with people. One can never assume that contradictions don't exist.
Hebron hasn't changed much from what I see. The Jewish Israeli settlements are still towering above the Old City, and there are some new wire mesh covers over the souq shielding more garbage from above. (See picture below) If this is the first time you're familiar with this - the settlers often throw garbage or stones down at the Palestinians in the market, so the people have rigged these wires up for protection. Zleikha's house is just as beautiful as ever, especially her balcony garden fertilized with her kitchen compost.
Zleikha is still busy with her work, translating, organizing events, and running her kindergarten. Tomorrow I plan to go with her to a protest in the Old City. Palestinians here gather each Saturday to protest the closure of streets in the area, which has shut down much of the economy here. Zleikha and I chatted this afternoon about her recent 3omra to Mecca (a mini-pilgrimage) in Saudi Arabia. She said she came back to Hebron and felt like a stranger, concerned about the lack of true religiosity among people here and particularly the increasing attention-grabbing styles of women's clothing. As always, she and I have differing perspectives on some issues, but we have lively discussions and I always learn so much from talking with her. She also ironically commented that though the street at the front of her house (Shehada St - Street of Martyrs) has been closed to Palestinians for a few years now and it is a major issue of protest for the people, she has to admit that it is much quieter and more peaceful for sleeping at night. :) This comment made me smile. Finding a bit of peace in the midst of Occupation is certainly to be cherished.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
When the Abnormal Becomes Normal
Over nargila last night, I sat with some new friends here in Ramallah. We began talking about checkpoints and the Occupation, and some of the ridiculous situations that happen. My friend Darin told the story that happened to us last weekend when we traveled from Ramallah to Hebron to conduct the impact surveys. Darin holds what people here call a “green card,” which is a Palestinian ID card held in a small green folder. The green cards here are West Bank ID, meaning Darin is not allowed to enter Jerusalem (only 6 miles away) without a difficult to obtain permit. Palestinians who still live in Jerusalem hold “blue cards,” which is still a Palestinian ID but specifies that you live in Jerusalem. Blue card holders are allowed to pass between Jerusalem and Ramallah, but sometimes face problems passing through West Bank checkpoints (ex. Between Ramallah and Nablus). Blue card holders are also able to travel inside Israel to Haifa, the sea, and Tel Aviv, but still do not usually hold Israeli passports.
Last weekend, Darin's green card meant that we should not pass through the Jerusalem checkpoints, which are the fastest route between Ramallah and Hebron. However, my American colleague and I are not able to pass through West Bank checkpoints in an Israeli-licensed vehicle. Basically it meant that we would have had to split into 2 vehicles simply to drive the 1 hour between Ramallah and Hebron (2 Palestinian cities.) Are you seeing the ridiculousness and humiliation of this situation? This is what military occupations do, they make normal life into something unrecognizable.
In the end, we decided to try passing the Jerusalem checkpoints together. Darin was interrogated and we were turned back from the checkpoint. She risked being arrested for even attempting to pass without the “special permission,” because she is Palestinian. It is humiliating and wrong, particularly because I, with my American passport, have much more freedom than she does in her own country and home. We ended up sitting at the checkpoint for half an hour, being asked numerous questions by the Israeli soldiers. We then were denied entry to Jerusalem, and drove another hour to a different checkpoint to pass through.
To return to my original point, over nargila we talked about how this situation in Palestine makes things that shouldn't be normal normal. Being interrogated by soldiers, waiting in line just to drive to the next city, allowing people to speak rudely to you and ask personal questions without protest. I notice it in myself. When I am at the checkpoints, I don't speak back to soldiers or question their rudeness to me. In order to let it pass as quickly as possible, I submit to the occupation's reality, just as people do here. As we spoke about though, it is scary sometimes to realize that you are allowing your basic dignity, self-respect, privacy to be breached without protest. Allowing the abnormal to become normal, and the situation to continue. Something to think about.
Last weekend, Darin's green card meant that we should not pass through the Jerusalem checkpoints, which are the fastest route between Ramallah and Hebron. However, my American colleague and I are not able to pass through West Bank checkpoints in an Israeli-licensed vehicle. Basically it meant that we would have had to split into 2 vehicles simply to drive the 1 hour between Ramallah and Hebron (2 Palestinian cities.) Are you seeing the ridiculousness and humiliation of this situation? This is what military occupations do, they make normal life into something unrecognizable.
In the end, we decided to try passing the Jerusalem checkpoints together. Darin was interrogated and we were turned back from the checkpoint. She risked being arrested for even attempting to pass without the “special permission,” because she is Palestinian. It is humiliating and wrong, particularly because I, with my American passport, have much more freedom than she does in her own country and home. We ended up sitting at the checkpoint for half an hour, being asked numerous questions by the Israeli soldiers. We then were denied entry to Jerusalem, and drove another hour to a different checkpoint to pass through.
To return to my original point, over nargila we talked about how this situation in Palestine makes things that shouldn't be normal normal. Being interrogated by soldiers, waiting in line just to drive to the next city, allowing people to speak rudely to you and ask personal questions without protest. I notice it in myself. When I am at the checkpoints, I don't speak back to soldiers or question their rudeness to me. In order to let it pass as quickly as possible, I submit to the occupation's reality, just as people do here. As we spoke about though, it is scary sometimes to realize that you are allowing your basic dignity, self-respect, privacy to be breached without protest. Allowing the abnormal to become normal, and the situation to continue. Something to think about.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Ramallah thoughts
Ramallah is a city of about 25,000 people, the acting capital of Palestine and the location of headquarters for every major international organization operating in the West Bank and Gaza. Swirling around in this relatively small city is a fascinating mix of highly educated and mobile Palestinians, young Western backpackers, staff from the United Nations and every other major international NGO, average Palestinian shopkeepers and university students, and a city center that reminds me of the chaos of some neighborhoods in Cairo. I've seen Mercedes, Volvo, BMW and Lexus cars rolling through the streets, as well as broken-down cars from the 1980s parked in vacant lots. There are falafel shops and expensive boutiques, lush tree-lined streets and dry olive groves on nearby hills. Particularly after my short few days spent here, it is impossible yet to understand the mix of things that make up Ramallah.r But it is certainly different from any other place that I've stayed in the Middle East.
Every night since I've arrived I have gone out in the evenings with Darin. Darin is the Alumni Coordinator at PEFE, but she does basically everything from program management to event organizing from what I can tell. I am also staying with her and her family right now, during the process of finding a place to live. Darin is exceptionally generous, and I think this week she has been trying to introduce me to everyone she knows in Ramallah (slightly overwhelming but they're all very nice people.) :) We have been going out in the evenings, sitting in cafe's with the young Ramallah crowd, smoking nargila (hooka, water pipe) flavored with watermelon and mint (so good!) and enjoying casual conversation. Just as in the U.S., conversations are about work and family prevail, though stories of frustrations with the political situation tend to pepper the conversations here.
Many of Darin's friends work with international organizations, some with USAID, some with construction companies or NGOs that contract from USAID or the UN. Others work in the private sector here in Palestine for banks, real estate companies or business. They have impressive resumes, perhaps with degrees from U.S. Universities or from Birzeit (the leading university in Palestine). I feel a bit out of place in their company, mostly because of their fluency in the issues happening here. I'm learning a lot just from listening to them and becoming more familiar with all the developments, investments, projects and funding coming through Palestine these days. As I listen, I've been having a feeling of being lost, and still not knowing where us foreigners should really fit into the picture of 'development' in a place like the West Bank. What Palestine needs more than a proliferation of NGOs is a resolution to the political situation with Israel, open borders, and open trade with the rest of the world. It's difficult to measure the real impact of NGO programs here when they have become an industry that employees thousands and are now simply part of the economy; are these NGOs a drain on talent to the private sector and national development, or a positive force in promoting growth and development in themselves? I expect to hear many more conversations about this subject in Ramallah, a city where the mix of foreign influence and Palestinian interests is so poignant.
Every night since I've arrived I have gone out in the evenings with Darin. Darin is the Alumni Coordinator at PEFE, but she does basically everything from program management to event organizing from what I can tell. I am also staying with her and her family right now, during the process of finding a place to live. Darin is exceptionally generous, and I think this week she has been trying to introduce me to everyone she knows in Ramallah (slightly overwhelming but they're all very nice people.) :) We have been going out in the evenings, sitting in cafe's with the young Ramallah crowd, smoking nargila (hooka, water pipe) flavored with watermelon and mint (so good!) and enjoying casual conversation. Just as in the U.S., conversations are about work and family prevail, though stories of frustrations with the political situation tend to pepper the conversations here.
Many of Darin's friends work with international organizations, some with USAID, some with construction companies or NGOs that contract from USAID or the UN. Others work in the private sector here in Palestine for banks, real estate companies or business. They have impressive resumes, perhaps with degrees from U.S. Universities or from Birzeit (the leading university in Palestine). I feel a bit out of place in their company, mostly because of their fluency in the issues happening here. I'm learning a lot just from listening to them and becoming more familiar with all the developments, investments, projects and funding coming through Palestine these days. As I listen, I've been having a feeling of being lost, and still not knowing where us foreigners should really fit into the picture of 'development' in a place like the West Bank. What Palestine needs more than a proliferation of NGOs is a resolution to the political situation with Israel, open borders, and open trade with the rest of the world. It's difficult to measure the real impact of NGO programs here when they have become an industry that employees thousands and are now simply part of the economy; are these NGOs a drain on talent to the private sector and national development, or a positive force in promoting growth and development in themselves? I expect to hear many more conversations about this subject in Ramallah, a city where the mix of foreign influence and Palestinian interests is so poignant.
Day 1 at PEFE
Day one working with EFE in Ramallah. Let me explain EFE a little bit. EFE (Education for Employment Foundation) aims to provide practical training and skill-building workshops for students here in Palestine, and then provides them the connections and opportunities for employment. For fresh graduates from universities here, it is often difficult to secure a job, so PEFE targets these unemployed young people and gives them additional training and job connections.
Our goal today was to conduct interviews of employers of PEFE graduates in Hebron (al-Khalil) to understand their perspective on PEFE's training and ways we can improve or change the programs. After arriving in the morning, we held interviews with three employers that are partners with EFE. Each of these employers have hired women participants from EFE training programs in engineering or construction management. The most intriguing interview was with a contractor for the Hebron Rehabilitation Committee. This engineer is heading a small team which is reconstructing ruined homes in the Old City of Hebron. The EFE employee there is a small, soft-spoken young woman named Diana. It was striking to watch her on the work site – a group of men laborers watched her intently as she explained the plans for reconstructing a foundation. I have never seen an Arab woman on a construction site. We interviewed her boss, the head contractor. He had glowing praise for her, pointing out her attention to detail and organization skills as exceptional. As a girl who previously worked in a gravel pit, alone, I can imagine that Diana has to be exceptionally professional and skilled to be respected on the work site.
After the employer interviews, we held focus groups of PEFE applicants for an impact study. The goal of the impact study is primarily to evaluate whether PEFE programs are having a positive effect on students' "soft" skills - presentation, communication, workplace professionalism, etc as well as PEFE's general effect on the students. We listened to three groups of students talk about their frustrations, lack of opportunities and their desire to be given the chance to succeed. Later I was talking to my colleague and new friend Darin about what can be done to help these students. They have education, and plenty of motivation to work. Some of them are very talented. However, the political situation/occupation prevents the economy from growing independently of Israel, and job opportunities remain scarce. PEFE is trying to bridge the gap between theoretical studies in the university and practical skills training, and from what I see they are doing a good job. Many of PEFE's graduates have found work, and they are building a reputation for training excellent employees. However, just like many NGO programs here, it sometimes seems like a band-aid, keeping the frustrating situations of the participants under control and reaching a small population. Right now, that's the best most organizations can do in Palestine.
Our goal today was to conduct interviews of employers of PEFE graduates in Hebron (al-Khalil) to understand their perspective on PEFE's training and ways we can improve or change the programs. After arriving in the morning, we held interviews with three employers that are partners with EFE. Each of these employers have hired women participants from EFE training programs in engineering or construction management. The most intriguing interview was with a contractor for the Hebron Rehabilitation Committee. This engineer is heading a small team which is reconstructing ruined homes in the Old City of Hebron. The EFE employee there is a small, soft-spoken young woman named Diana. It was striking to watch her on the work site – a group of men laborers watched her intently as she explained the plans for reconstructing a foundation. I have never seen an Arab woman on a construction site. We interviewed her boss, the head contractor. He had glowing praise for her, pointing out her attention to detail and organization skills as exceptional. As a girl who previously worked in a gravel pit, alone, I can imagine that Diana has to be exceptionally professional and skilled to be respected on the work site.
After the employer interviews, we held focus groups of PEFE applicants for an impact study. The goal of the impact study is primarily to evaluate whether PEFE programs are having a positive effect on students' "soft" skills - presentation, communication, workplace professionalism, etc as well as PEFE's general effect on the students. We listened to three groups of students talk about their frustrations, lack of opportunities and their desire to be given the chance to succeed. Later I was talking to my colleague and new friend Darin about what can be done to help these students. They have education, and plenty of motivation to work. Some of them are very talented. However, the political situation/occupation prevents the economy from growing independently of Israel, and job opportunities remain scarce. PEFE is trying to bridge the gap between theoretical studies in the university and practical skills training, and from what I see they are doing a good job. Many of PEFE's graduates have found work, and they are building a reputation for training excellent employees. However, just like many NGO programs here, it sometimes seems like a band-aid, keeping the frustrating situations of the participants under control and reaching a small population. Right now, that's the best most organizations can do in Palestine.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Gaza Flotilla and the Shadow over Israel
Retaliation and violence come again and again. For the people who live here, in Israel, the West Bank and Gaza, the cycles of retaliation and rage must seem all the more defeating and painful. Last year when I moved to Israel, it was just after the firebombing of Gaza that killed more than a thousand Palestinians. This year, it is the violent clashes between Israeli military and activists in the Gaza, Freedom Flotilla leaving nine people dead.
Israelis should be gravely concerned with this incident. Not only is the international reputation of Israel already shaky, but the world is also aware that there is a chink in the armor of the U.S.-Israel relationship. Videos of the incident from both Israeli military sources and from activists are flooding the internet. Regardless of who wins the media fight over “who started it” in the flotilla raid, the activists won this battle. Accidentally or otherwise killing nine international activists was a devastating mistake for Israel, and continues to undermine their failed strategy of isolating Gaza from the world. It undermines U.S. Support for Israel further and makes it extremely difficult for the U.S. to gain support needed to sanction Iran. Also, Turkey is a critical ally both for the U.S., and a partner for Israel in trade and tourism. The Israel-Turkey relationship may be all but ruined now. Israel has to wake up and realize that its actions will not keep it safe. Isolating Gaza and starving its people of dignity only fuel anger and helplessness. It is also slowly destroying the physical, emotional, social and psychological lives of millions of Palestinians. If countries in the world truly care about 'humanitarian crises' they must force Israel to end this blockade. Israel does have the right to defend itself from attack, as any country does. But walling off millions of people is no solution.
Amira Hass, an Israeli prize-winning journalist who writes for Ha'aretz, recently wrote an article pinpointing some of the linguistically misleading phrases used in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. (See her article in Haaretz here). I want to write more about this topic later as a whole, but one of the routinely used phrases she pointed out was on my mind today. “Israel transfers humanitarian aid to the Gaza Strip.” As Hass says, what would be more accurate would be that “Israel permits basic commodities to enter Gaza.” These commodities – basic medicines, food bundles, diapers and the like – are paid for by international organizations such as the UN or the Red Cross, and are generally sold to Gaza merchants.
Israel is not taking responsibility for Gaza's well-being, and neither is the world. We are relying on international organizations to keep Gazans alive, while leaving the situation unresolved. There is a reason why these activists are organizing time and time again to break the blockade. If not for them, there would simply be no one listening. As Margaret Atwood recently wrote, there is a Shadow over Israel. (See her article here). I can feel it too.
Israelis should be gravely concerned with this incident. Not only is the international reputation of Israel already shaky, but the world is also aware that there is a chink in the armor of the U.S.-Israel relationship. Videos of the incident from both Israeli military sources and from activists are flooding the internet. Regardless of who wins the media fight over “who started it” in the flotilla raid, the activists won this battle. Accidentally or otherwise killing nine international activists was a devastating mistake for Israel, and continues to undermine their failed strategy of isolating Gaza from the world. It undermines U.S. Support for Israel further and makes it extremely difficult for the U.S. to gain support needed to sanction Iran. Also, Turkey is a critical ally both for the U.S., and a partner for Israel in trade and tourism. The Israel-Turkey relationship may be all but ruined now. Israel has to wake up and realize that its actions will not keep it safe. Isolating Gaza and starving its people of dignity only fuel anger and helplessness. It is also slowly destroying the physical, emotional, social and psychological lives of millions of Palestinians. If countries in the world truly care about 'humanitarian crises' they must force Israel to end this blockade. Israel does have the right to defend itself from attack, as any country does. But walling off millions of people is no solution.
Amira Hass, an Israeli prize-winning journalist who writes for Ha'aretz, recently wrote an article pinpointing some of the linguistically misleading phrases used in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. (See her article in Haaretz here). I want to write more about this topic later as a whole, but one of the routinely used phrases she pointed out was on my mind today. “Israel transfers humanitarian aid to the Gaza Strip.” As Hass says, what would be more accurate would be that “Israel permits basic commodities to enter Gaza.” These commodities – basic medicines, food bundles, diapers and the like – are paid for by international organizations such as the UN or the Red Cross, and are generally sold to Gaza merchants.
Israel is not taking responsibility for Gaza's well-being, and neither is the world. We are relying on international organizations to keep Gazans alive, while leaving the situation unresolved. There is a reason why these activists are organizing time and time again to break the blockade. If not for them, there would simply be no one listening. As Margaret Atwood recently wrote, there is a Shadow over Israel. (See her article here). I can feel it too.
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