This one got covered up below.

Here is what I think is a really great article on what's happening here for your... enjoyment?



http://www.jpost.com/servlet/Satellite?cid=1230456521592&pagename=JPArticle%2FShowFull

Merry Belated Christmas, Happy New Year's Eve-Eve.

This Christmas I made a trip to Bethlehem, where I did not find Jesus, but did find the overwhelming welcome and Christmas spirit of a Palestinian family. My friends and I accidentally crashed their Christmas Eve party, held in a restaurant in Bethlehem called "The Philadelphia House," which later we all realized had nothing to do with the Philadelphia we all knew, but Amman (Philadelphia was the old Greek name for the city) which is relatively close to Bethlehem. As we sat, starring off into the distance, passing the time out of the cold, several hours before the Midnight Mass would begin, suddenly a group of mothers and daughters, brothers aunts and uncles and grandma waltzed in the empty restaurant ready to get that party started. They pulled us up to dance, generously gave us shots of (apparently nice) whiskey and toasted to us, to Christmas, to little drummer boy and Palestine. It was the first time anyone had said "Merry Christmas" to me all year. Nearing the end of the evening, there was a "slow dance" interlude, and instantly we were thrown back into that middle school gymnasium dance (minus the fog machine). A man asked me to dance, 6th grade style with my hands on his shoulders and his firmly and carefully on my hips (with enough room for Jesus in between), but, oddly, as his 10 year old daughter twirled solo around us. With his wife watching us from the table, and his sister simultaniously breastfeeding and slow dancing, I still felt compelled to tell him I was engaged (ok- but I'm not(!)). After another round of high energy, group dancing to Arab pop hits, my friends and I appropriately said our goodbyes before it got awkward, or before we got drunk. I left with a tummy ache and a love mix CD.

We didn't end up seeing the Midnight Mass because there no screen put up out side like we expected. We did manage to see the Palestinian president and his entourage arrive at the church for the evening. It was amazing to be standing amongst a crowd of Palestinians vying for the best position to see their president roll by. Manger square was beautifully lit, though quaint compared to Christmas displays that I am used to. I also found myself expecting and (a bit) wanting it to start snowing, just so I could say, "Why, its a miracle... a Christmas miracle, by golly!"

It didn't snow, however. What it did do was a lot of rain, cold rain. Which was fine considering that I brought two umbrellas and a pair of wellingtons with me to Israel (and you all thought I was nuts! Its been raining for days) But it was not so fine considering that I didn't feel well, my Jerusalem hostel had a 1am curfew and I still had to get through the check point. The rest of my night was a mess, but I will spare you the pathetic story as I am tired of thinking about it. We did have a haunting walk along the separation wall to get to the check point, which is worth mentioning. That along with the rain, some less-than-pro-Palestinain travel companions, and getting stuck in a turn style during the one hour check point crossing process, coupled with a fabulous day in the vibrant Christian Quarter of Jerusalem's old city and a festive Palestinian dinner dance party-- was pretty overwhelming and confusing.

I went to the West Bank in the nick of time, no? Talk about overwhelming and confusing, the past few days have been a lot of both. The news makes me angry, makes me cry. But the worst part about it all is that apart from the death planes that periodically zoom overhead, you wouldn't know that twenty miles away from me hundreds of people are dying, there whole lives crumbling around them. On the videos of Gaza, half the people filmed are children, like five year olds, who are bleeding or at least scared to death as they focus intently on kept their family within arms length. What else can they do?

We received an email from out program director saying to remain within 45 seconds of a "safe area" meaning away from stairs and bathrooms, and within internal rooms of buildings. There are various bomb shelters around, one of which is in my dormitory, so no worries, I know where to go and what to do, if need be. But the director also said to look around and take a cue from Israelis, who do not seem bothered or even interested in what is happening. I'm not sure I could do that even if I wanted to. I understand that since people here have lived through so many wars and so much violence that they have to sort of tune it out sometimes in order to carry on living their lives. Israel could never be a "home" if people didn't put themselves in little bubbles. But still, as my first experience with extreme violence next door, I am having a really hard time wrapping my head around all of this.

To complicate matters, I was alone with my thoughts this weekend, and am in the middle of writing a paper that is hopeful of the peace process. Its been difficult. In times like these, its hard to write about or believe that peace really can be built between these two communities.

Pictures below are in order of appearance:
1)an accidental-illegal photo of the Dome of the Rock
2)Macy's- the true meaning of Christmas, even in Jerusalem
3)view of the Dome from a rooftop walk
4)kids trying to get a good look at the President
5)Martyrdom poster
6)Joseph and Sean
7)Me and Paul
8,9,10) the wall
Video 1)manger square festivities
V 2) Paul's turn to dance
V 3) my slow dance
Something weird is happening with blogger, sorry if these photos are overlapping.

Surviving the Other Side

Bullets we flying- but it’s not at all like what you imagine.
It's me in a crowd I can only compare to a mosh pit, but instead of being at a totally hard core concert I'm trying to get on a bus, my feet dangling about 6 inches off the ground, supported on all sides by soldier bodies and machine guns pressed up against me. Certainly the first time I have ever had a gun in front of my face or at my back! And the bullets we flying. not shot out of guns but thrown in magazines over top the crowd to soldiers who had lost them in the struggle to enter the bus. Again, kind of like at a concert when people find a shoe. It is a bizarre affair. The unruly crowd I was in the middle of should have been broken up by soldiers, not composed of them! And the scary part (really, the only scary part) was that all the men and women in uniform around me were between the ages of 18 and 21. yikes. This happens all the time, and everyone was laughing, including myself at the ridiculousness of it all. Next time I think I will just climb over top of them- I'll let you know how that goes.

The entry below is my first attempt (to be followed by many others) to sort out my thoughts on my experiences here and everything I am learning. I’m sure I will write things that later on I will take back, and some things will be the views of others which I may not really have an opinion about yet, but am throwing out there. So please- bare with me(!) as I am using this blog as a way to process and journal my thoughts and experiences—publicly. I welcome your comments, challenges and questions.

This past week I met up with some people who work for Seeds of Peace, an organization that is about 15 years old, that focuses on people to people peace-building, peace education, and leadership training for kids in the Middle East, specifically Palestinians and Israelis. They have a camp in Maine where they fly young leaders to build skills and friendships while breaking down deep-rooted fears and stereotypes of the other. They then hold programs for the "seeds" back in their own countries for many years after, and many of them become councilors and facilitators at the camp themselves. I went to Ramallah with some of the organizers to help celebrate their grand opening of an office there, where I was able to meet many more people involved in the organization--not to mention learn a lot about the West Bank.

There are 650 check points in the West Bank. 650. This is an area which is something less than 1/4 the land of Israel/Palestine (which is a country about the size of Wales). One reason for so many check points is that there are three zones which make up the WB: zone A, which is allocated for Palestinian cities; zone B, which is Palestinian built-up areas; and zone C, which is either Jewish settlement areas or zones reserved for the military where no one is allowed to settle--unless a settler wants to settle there, in which case it is probably ok. Zone A and B are separated from zone C by walls or fences (depending on the perceived threat level), and also by separate roads. Some roads which do not have check points simply are covered by a huge mound of dirt making it impossible to pass, while along other borders there is simply a deep trench dug out to prevent pedestrians or vehicles from entering those areas.

To complicate matters more, Palestinians, once they actually make it to the border with Israel proper, are only allowed to pass through if they have a permit, and are lucky. Once on the other side, they are not allowed to drive, and Palestinian cars are not allowed in Israel. Israelis, on the other hand, are not allowed in the occupied territories at all--and Israeli vehicles are not allowed, either. So how you wonder, does anyone get in or out? How did I manage it?

There are some cars that can go to and from. For example, there are Palestinians that live in East Jerusalem, and they have special plates so they can see relatives, etc. Some organizations, I think, are allowed to travel via designated org. vehicles. Also, it’s ok for just about anyone else to enter the territory: Americans, Germans, South Africans, etc.

As we were waiting for 2 hours on the way out of Ramallah in the most chaotic traffic jam I have ever been a part of, Eric (my driver, new friend, seeds of peace contact) pointed out an interesting concept: Due to the situation I have described above, where we were sitting-- about a quarter mile from the check point inside the WB, Near Ramallah and Jerusalem-- was probably the safest place we could possibly be in the region. Think about it. Israelis are not allowed into the WB; this is a very strict rule. When I am in Israel, everyone assumes I am Israeli (even Israelis), but in the WB, no one does. They assume I am an international. The kids trying to wash our windows and sell us gum in the mess of cars were not shouting Hebrew at us but German, English, Arabic and French. In Israel, you have suicide bombers, not in the WB. I don't pose a threat to Palestinians in the WB like I would if we were in Israel, and they don't pose a significant threat to me.

We finally made it out just fine, they didn't even make us get out of the car or check the trunk. Very weird. My passport at that time still is completely void of any evidence that I have come to Israel(!) But thankfully, although a little late, I got my student visa the next day.

Ramallah looked just like other towns I have seen in Israel. I went a pretty nice restaurant while I was there and was able to see a little bit of the city, but not really enough to get a good impression of it. Nothing stuck out to me, though, besides Arabic written everywhere instead of Hebrew. And oh yeah, that huge wall around the place. I got to see firsthand some wall art, which incidentally only falls on the Palestinian side. I wish I could have taken pictures, but my camera batteries are dead.

This weekend I went to a peace education workshop in a town just in between Jerusalem and Bethlehem. It was an amazing experience. All these issues I have been discussing for years with people in Michigan, so far away from the heart of it all... finally this weekend I was sitting in between Israelis and Palestinians yelling over top of me, with me, at me! It was a hard experience, but it made me feel more firmly planted in the decision to come here this year. I felt oddly at home in amongst it all, though at the same time, such an outsider. Academia can only get you so far sometimes. I will never know what it is like for people who have grown up here and in Palestine. Their experience, emotions, beliefs and ideas mean a lot to me, but I know I will never really be able to say I understand. You'd think that being in Israel, everything would be in my face all the time--and it is, but there is also a veil wrapped around experience here. At Tantur, where the conference what held, you could see all of Jerusalem and Bethlehem at the same time, and yet everyone around me seemed to be saying "wow, I forget how close Bethlehem is," or "I never knew how close it was." It is so easy to be on the Israeli side and not think about the wall, the check points, the strife going on on the other side, a mere mile or less away. Israeli's can’t go there. Their image of the WB, especially for the youth is so skewed. And the Palestinians, especially the youth, and especially the boys (who are allowed to pass far less frequently than girls) never see Israeli's in the WB accept for the intimidating soldiers and determined settlers-- dominators, focal points for rage, figure heads that are equated with pain, murder, insecurity and rootlessness. The term for the illusion in Israel is "The Tel Aviv Bubble." surf's up, dude. they are in there, we are out here, that problem is in the WB, Tel Aviv (Israel) is safe, and fun and modern--and less than 15 miles away from the WB. But there is a wall! or, at least, a fence! With this enemy contained and steaming side by side with our free Jewish state, our happiness, security, livelihood and identity are under constant threat.
Israel, by "containing" the problem without taking courageous steps to solve it can remain feeling like a victim just as much as the Palestinians, but enveloped in an illusionary bubble of comfort instead of an eight meter high stone wall, barbed wire, machine guns, and soldiers who can’t even keep the danger (i.e., the settlers) out.

To a certain extent, I can't blame Israeli's. This is their home, rightfully or wrongly. They have to find a way to live comfortably, because this is just how it is in Israel. They must make the status quo feel normal because at this point--it is normal. Many Palestinians, on the other side, are fighting against this normalization of the occupation, for obvious reasons.


All of this-- the check points and access problems, the deep-rooted stereotypes on both sides, and the normalization/radical change tug-of-war-- makes peace and people to people projects extremely difficult here. Not only are the emotional, intellectual and language barriers, but it is also physically and officially next to impossible to get people from the two sides to talk face to face. Even when programs like Seeds get kids together, forming friendships and breaking down those barriers, after the workshops and programs it is very difficult for the friends to meet often, and then, in a couple years when all the Israeli kids have to go to the army for two or three years, cutting off all contact with their Palestinian counter parts, the Palestinians tend to feel betrayed. How can both now reconcile their encounters and experience together with the external reality? How can they come together again after the Israeli has become what the Palestinian hates and fears, and when the Israeli has been pounded with "fight the enemy/solidarity" rhetoric?

It all seems quite pessimistic. People to people efforts were put in place to help strengthen on the ground what Oslo was working on at the policy level. Once the violence picked up again, many people lost faith in what they had been working on for 7 years. Funding slowed considerably, and access became a huge problem. But while many communities discourage working with "the other" for various reasons, youth, especially the Palestinian youth, have demonstrated a high level of readiness to meet the other side and work on these issues. The key seems to be to make these programs long term initiatives; somehow maintaining funding from sponsors and participation from both sides over the course of decades; and focusing on the infrastructure of schools by implementing peace education in the class room, hopefully producing good leaders for the next generation.

It was suggested at the conference this weekend By Gurshon Baskin and Hanna Siniora (founders of IPCRI which ran it) that Palestine has too little democracy while Israel has too much. Over Israel's lifetime there have been repeated elections, averaging about once every two years, and incessant power struggles between and within a multitude of parties. It has a dysfunctional political system with no real leaders on the horizon (meaning no one who is willing to really lead the country on a path out of the conflict). For Palestine, there is the unhealthy power struggle between Fatah and Hamas. It was said that a resolution between Fatah and Hamas may never happen if the goal of it is peace with Israel. Israel asks, "who represents you? how can we address the occupation if we don't know how to address you?" Right now, militants are ruling the Palestinian streets. There was a call to activate the civil society, to bring them out to rule the streets through non-violent means. Specifically in East Jerusalem, which is a political and security vacuum, Hamas is filling the void. The speakers called for NGO's to not give up, to keep working for better access possibilities, to get civil society to engage in the peace process, and to work for a change in the education across the board. "What we teach our children is what we really believe."

They called for NGO's to do less coaxing and advising to the leaders, and to do more leading themselves. The difficulties and complexity of these tasks are immense. At this conference in particular, due to, among other things (like the recent violence in Hebron, barring many Palestinians from coming), the upcoming elections was enough for some NGO's who have political bents to decided not to come, because it would affect their image. While there are many peace organizations in Israel, I am gradually discovering that the number of peace builders within the organizations is actually quite small. They all know each other, and are working for similar ends, but with politics, perceived goals and associations, it can be hard for different small organizations to work together. Just like in the Knesset, if your supporters, participants, or partners see you talking to someone they don't like, or doing something they don't agree with, they can threaten to break ties with you--and this can easily mean dissolving the government, or in this case, certain programs. This doesn't mean that alliances are not made or that everyone isn't friends, but it does throw another wrench in the gears.

I learned so much this week and weekend. Really, this is just a sampling of the thoughts that are rolling around in my head. One huge subject that I meant to mention is the water crisis here, but I think I will save it for the next post.

Two Weekends ago I went to Eilat, which is the southern-most Israeli port town, which is nestled between Egyptian Sinai, and Aqaba and the Jordanian Mountains. I went there to lay on the beach and do lots of reading, so not a whole lot to report accept that it was beautiful and I am excited to go back there when I have time, do some hiking, see some coral, get over my fear of sharks and dolphins. The pictures below are 1)Abby infront of a wonderfully straightforward sign, 2)me reading on the beach 3) Me at a Brazilian resturant, contemplating the rest of the bull my friends were eating in front of me.

In other news, today, on a whim, I decided to put sugar in my coffee- something I almost never do- and on accident I ended up pouring salt in it.... and I still drank it. yup. go me, go language barriers. I guess I've really turned a corner in coffee snobbery (either that or I am getting really cheap).