recognizing shades of my own...

For a while now I have been researching and creating a database about the grafitti that is on the separation barrier here in Palestine. I have been trying to take a deeper look at exactly what message the various artists are trying to convey and to whom. Through my research I discovered an organization based out of the Netherlands that has set up a website for people wishing to relay a message in a special way involving paying 30 Euro to have a sentence or two spraypainted on the separation barrier, and then having a picture or two of the finished product e-mailed to them or a person of their choice. A part of the proceeds goes to the minimal staff and materials costs while the rest is distributed to small Palestinian NGOs. Such a concept, I thought the first time I heard - you can write a message of love, of peace, or frustration, or of your favorite falafel recipe, and in any language. Perfect!

A couple of weeks ago I heard about a new project that the "sendamessage" crew and the Peace and Freedom Youth Forum had teamed up to do. They set out to paint a nearly 2,000 word letter, written by a S. African scholar comparing the situation in Palestine to South African apartheid, on the wall that will eventually stretch some 2,600 meters in length. In order to fund the project and to raise money for Palestine each section of the barrier can be sponsored for 20 Euros. More information is at http://www.sendamessage.nl/the-longest-letter/


Last week I read that the project was looking for volunteers to come help. Hearing this, I didn't hesitate to make the call as again it is something that I have interested in for awhile now. To make a long story short, I ended spending my entire weekend at the separation barrier with a great team that consisted of Faris, Yousef, Raji, Faris (the other one), Rana, and for part of one of the days, V.

Faris, Faris, and Raji were in charge of painting the white background with long paint rollers. Myself, Rana, and Yousef (V too) sorted the letters and painted each segment one by one with the words of the letter. The process went something like this: Yousef would climb the ladder, Rana would read off what letters or words were needed, myself and V would sort through the stencils to find the correct letters, put them in order and then hand them to Yousef, who in turn would take a can of black spray paint and paint the letters on the wall and then hand the stencils back to us before moving the ladder to the next section where we would start all over again. Each section contains only 7 characters so you can imagine how tedious the process is. Regardless, it was actually quite fun and it felt really good to be outside being productive.

On Friday, there were several media units there. Some were taking pictures, some were conducting interviews, and one was even making a documentary. As the only foreigner or "ajnabiyya" there in the morning, I was interviewed by 2 television news units - 1 from MBC and one from Bahrain. Later in the day, V and I were both interviewed for the documentary. The next day, according to Faris, I was on Al-Arabiya news. This was confirmed later by a man in a car who said he saw me on TV and Amira the next day who told me she saw me as well. So I guess I was on Arabic television. Strange!

I ended up spending about 6 hours the first day and 7 hours the second day helping out. I honestly had a blast and it was nice to feel that I was part of something so big and something that means so much to the Palestinians. I will go back every weekend until it is finished - it is supposed to be done by "Nakba Day," which is on May 15th. One of the interviewers asked me if I was a peace activist and I said "no, I definitely don't consider myself a peace activist" - however I do believe that more people should know about the separation barrier, or apartheid wall as it is sometimes called, and what is going on here, and if my helping with this project will allow for the message to spread to the masses, then so be it.

Sept al-Noor

The Saturday before last was a special Christian holiday in Ramallah - Sept al-Noor. It is the day before Easter (going by the Orthodox calendar) and every year there is a big celebration in the city center that consists of all the boyscout marching bands from the villages surrounding Ramallah parading down the main street near Al-Manara Square. The parade is celebrating the arrival of the "holy fire" from Jerusalem. Obtaining the 'fire' to bring to Ramallah used to be fairly easy as the Church of the Holy Supulchre in the Old City of Jerusalem is just a short 15 miles away; however with the checkpoints that now exist, the trip can take an unpredictable amount of time - the upside being that it builds the anticipation of the crowd waiting in Ramallah.

Around 3PM I started to hear the first sounds of the marching bands in the distance. It was difficult to figure out how far away they were, but after about 20 minutes I could see them heading west on Rukab Street. For the next hour or so, about a dozen boyscout troops passed by in their various and well-planned uniforms playing their drums, horn instruments, and bagpipes! I especially liked how almost every group implemented the kheffiyeh, being a national symbol of Palestine, into their uniforms. It goes to show what pride they take in their heritage.

When the holy fire arrived, everyone gathered round to light their own lantern or candle or light and then they took off to their various churches all around Ramallah to continue in their own activities. There was a big commotion as the mayor of Ramallah, who is a devout Christian herself, arrived carrying her light. Soon afterwards there was a huge crowd of people dancing, singing, and clapping about how Christ had risen and how Jesus was the savior. Everyone in Ramallah and beyond came to see this event and both Muslims and Christians alike were enjoying themselves. It is hard to describe the atmosphere that day other than saying it was one of elation and celebration. To be in a city of that is traditionally Christian, but is currently of Muslim majority, celebrating in such a manner was unreal.

Nabi Musa and Beyond

A couple Fridays ago I went with O, V, S, Ghada, and Ma'moun to the opening ceremonies for the Nabi Musa festival. I mentioned this place previously as the location that Muslims believe the Prophet Moses to be buried and that was once a popular place of rest for Muslims on long journeys. When we came around the corner on the desert road that leads to Nabi Musa, we were all very shocked at the amount of cars and busses parked around the complex. The amount of people there was incredible and I could really sense how it must have been hundreds of years ago during its heyday. We walked into a carnival like atmosphere of children riding camels, and sweets and ice cream being sold. Once inside the courtyard we saw an imam getting prepared to give the Friday "sermon" to dozens of men sitting expectantly on their prayer mats. Although it was an open area, it was clear that women were not supposed to be in the front part of the courtyard so we made our way back to the women only area where we could watch as discretely as possible.

All the various rooms that used to serve as places of rest for weary travellers were filled to the brim with families who had brought food and drink and games for the children. They even put blankets up in the entrances so as to give themselves some privacy as the activities of the day unfolded around them. After the imam was finished and the prayers had been prayed there was a parade by the local boyscouts and then a performance by a traditional music group. Being there, at a Muslim holy site, in the midst of Muslims from all over Palestine, admittedly made me feel a little uncomfortable. I felt that I was somehow invading their space. Despite this feeling, I love to experience things such as this celebration at Nabi Musa. It makes me appreciate being part of something that not many people get to see.

After some time at Nabi Musa, O decided it would be a good idea to go 4x4ing in the desert only to scare the s*** out of the everyone in the car. Nonetheless it made for some incredible views that we wouldn't have seen otherwise.

Our original plan was to have a bbq at a beautiful monastery very near Jericho, but closer to the Jordanian border; however when we arrived the area that is normally reserved for this was closed. We had a quick look around the church onsite and then decided to try and go to a place called "Banana Land," which is just northwest of Jericho. When we arrived, the parking lot was ridiculously packed and so it was decided that it was better if we found another alternative. So back we went to the eastern reaches of Jericho where O's family owns a house and a plot of land. The house is not exactly in working order, but has a lot of potential as a "fixer-upper." The land itself was amazingly beautiful with a huge garden full of flowers, fruit trees, mint, spring onions, and so on. We spent the rest of the evening sitting outside, enjoying the sunshine, eating delicious food, listening to Spanish music, smoking sweet nargileh, conversating and laughing. What joy!

Ein Arik

Amira, who I work with and have mentioned previously, has been asking me for awhile to come to her house for an evening and stay the night. I told myself that I would take advantage of any situation that comes my way so I said 'ok' even though I must admit the thought of spending the night at her house was never too appealing. Last week she took the initiative to officially invite me. So last Sunday after work we walked together to the market, picked up a few things, then went to the bus depot and boarded the small bus that would take us to her village, Ein Arik.

Ein Arik is located just west of Ramallah near Betunia and is traditionally a Christian village with a number of ancient churches still intact, mainly coming from the Roman Catholic world. Even now the people that live there have Italian ancestors, and some even have Italian names. Despite its history and large Christian population, Ein Arik is home to Palestine's tallest minaret. Go figure!! It is very small with around 3-4,000 people; although being there I would have thought it was less.

20 minutes after boarding the bus we were at the driveway leading up to Amira's house. Her children appeared from out of the open front door one by one to greet me with a handshake and a kiss on both cheeks. They were very polite. I then met Amira's mother who was an extremely jovial, smiley elderly woman dressed in traditional Palestinian clothing. She kept speaking Arabic to me even though she knew I couldn't really understand. I smiled and nodded a lot. After being served a few refreshments while Amira was bustling away in the kitchen we all decided to go for a walk. We crossed the main road and walked down into a beautiful valley full of every fruit tree you could imagine. The word "ein" means "spring" so anytime you see it being used in reference to a location you can assume that there will be a water spring there. Same was the case with Ein Arik. We walked around for over an hour while Amira pointed out the various things growing there and explained that the area was very popular with people from Ramallah because of its beauty and serenity.

We headed back to the house where Amira and her daughters had prepared a lovely feast of chicken musakhen and diwali; two very time consuming and delicious Arabic dishes. After dinner we all sat around and watched Lebanon and Turkish television -- me, Amira, Amira's mother, husband, and 5 children. It was interesting, but entertaining trying to figure out what was happening, since I was feeling a little apprehensive because noone in the house, including Amira, spoke a spot of English. However over the course of the night, we were able to communicate just fine and it turned out to be a really good way for me to practice my Arabic.

At some point I had tried to explain to Amira, in Arabic, that I would prefer sleeping at my own house, especially since I had to work in the morning and that it might be better for me to stay the night on a weekend. It seems she didn't understand and when she showed me the bed I was sleeping in, I just took it in stride. Once bedtime did role around, Amira gave me a nightgown and I shared the room with her eldest daughter. I was woken the next morning around 4 by the call to prayer coming from the nearby minaret. What kept me awake was the sound of braying donkeys and cawing chickens. Such is life in the village!!

Good Friday in Jerusalem

V and I decided to go to Jerusalem for Good Friday. When we arrived at the Qalandiya checkpoint to go through to the Israeli side, we (well V in particular) had reason to be nervous or at least a little anxious. V has recently received her "huwiyya" visa, which essentially means that she is a legitimate Palestinian, sort of, but that she has given up her rights to enter into Israel. So, instead of bringing her huwiyya she brought a copy of her entrance visa (which doesn't expire until next month) and the receipt stating she was waiting to receive her huwiyya. I know, I know its a little confusing. However many people who are waiting to receive visas do this and are able to pass just fine. So when V arrived at the security counter the Israeli girl working there asked her many questions and in the end would not let her through... no matter what. V asked why and the girl didn't have an answer for her. We had to humbly pass back through the security point/cattle corral to exit back onto the Palestinian side. At this point, we were both annoyed but didn't want to admit defeat so we discussed our options and decided to try to take a "taxi" through another checkpoint (Hezma). We told a couple of shady looking characters who had Israeli plated cars where we wanted to go and how much we wanted to pay and we were off! We devised a plan for if we were questioned by Israeli security at Hezma -- we were all friends, it wasn't a "taxi," and there was to be no mention of any "huwiyyas." Luckily when we arrived at the checkpoint we were waved through quite quickly. Whheeww, what a relief!! Just goes to show how secure the security is.

After being dropped off at the top of the Mt. of Olives, we made our way down to the Old City, through the craziness that happens after Friday prayers, and onto the Via Dolorosa. We stopped at a few of the stations along the way before arriving at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, which as expected, was very crowded. Earlier in the day there had been processions and recreations of the day Jesus was crucified; however we arrived too late to see the fully monty, but rather only caught the remnants of it all. It is difficult for me to imagine what it must have been like so many years ago and also hard to get into the spirit of things when there are so many people around. Nonetheless, there were many moments when I couldn't help but smile a bittersweet smile at what is happening in the city where the world's biggest advocate of peace was crucified.

I had expected the Old City to be uncomfortably full of people, but thankfully it was not and we had a wonderful time wandering around and people watching. We stopped at a shop manned by a beautiful, old, toothless Palestinian man. He was pretty much the jolliest man ever, but in an almost senile way. He wanted to marry me. I felt violated. Finally, a trip to the Old City just wouldn't be complete without a quick stop at Jafar Sweets for kanafeh - so naughty, yet so good. Glory, glory, hallelujah!!

Being violated

Jafar Sweets