It's not all over after the ceasefire. A salute to the #18 bus driver and a personal epilogue.

Since Wednesday's bomb blast we are still banned by our Office from traveling to Tel Aviv or using any Israeli public transportation. Therefore, my only choice of spending my day off o Thursday was either to go Ramallah or Hebron. Strange as it may sound, to both of them I could get with Palestinian transport. Obviously I could have stayed in Jerusalem, but after all - I always feel a deep urge to do something. After Wednesday experiences, where Mohammed and I got caught up in Tel Aviv during the bomb blast and after we found ourselves stuck on the motorway in Ashdod way too close to rockets from Gaza, I decided to take it 'easy' and just go Ramallah. Ramallah is a stone's throw from Jerusalem. But distances, as we learn here, mean nothing for the Palestinian and Israeli twisted geography.

In Ramallah the atmosphere was of a celebration and the city was in a party mode. Clearly the ceasefire has been seen by many Palestinians as a victory or at least a particular way of 'talking back' to the experience of humiliation that many people face every day under Israeli occupation or blockade. Ramallah is crazy and I never quite get it - it's intense, it's messy and it bursts with energy. But also until you know where you are going it makes you feel like you are in a carousel of similar images of shops, coffee bars and food stalls just blurr so it's difficult to differentiate one street from another.

After 90 minutes of wandering I got a call from Mahmoud, my arabic teacher and decided to head back to Jerusalem for an arabic class.

I fall asleep on the #18 bus to the sounds of Mecca preyers broadcasted live on the bus. I woke up to the sounds of bullets. We were stuck just before Qalandia checkpoint next to the Wall with huge Arafat murals. Just in front of us there was a group of around 20 heavily armed soldiers clearly in the 'middle' of their action - shooting, running, screaming.  As I looked back I saw a bunch of Palestinian youth throwing stones. Ah, so here I was, right in the middle of clashes in Qalandia in a first day of 'effective' ceasefire agreement.

My first thought was of a regret that I do not have a big camera. Than, people started leaving the bus - women would hold bits of their scarfs right next to their lips and noses. A light smell of teargas was up in the air. I decided to stay on the bus along few people. Not because I felt brave, mainly because I did not want to give the satisfaction to the soldiers of allowing them yet again to destroy my 'normal' routine. If they start shooting towards us, I will just hide behind the seat - I thought to myself and than I thought I was sick. Keryn called and just told me to take some good photos and call her back. We were taking later how surreal it was. But in a way, living in the occupied territories, you get used to a constant presence of army, police, guns and violence in our life that after a while you just choose to ignore it.

Because this is exactly what was happening in Qalandia - in front of us and on our right - there was a heavy exchange of hostilities between soldiers and teenage boys. On our left, people were selling duvets, pastries, newspapers and coffee - makers with their pop up coffee stalls were brewing coffee observing carefully what was going on. And we were stuck right in the middle of it, just because soldiers decided to put two big stones on the street to stop all traffic. And the traffic is just insane in this place.

And than, out of the sudden, our bus driver, a 30-something man with a long beard just stepped out of a bus and approached the soldiers as if they were not holding guns, as if they were not in the middle of rather scary action. And than, our bus driver (Palestinian of course!) started explaining to the soldiers in a flawless Hebrew : My job is to drive bus and to get these people home. You cannot stop all traffic just because of bunch of kids throwing stones. You cannot punish everyone, just because of some kids. Now please, let us drive - somebody on a bus was translating for me and we were all frozen in fear, respect and admiration. Suddenly, he was taking to them an equal man. Suddenly a Palestinian men would talk to bunch of Israeli soldiers without a slight element of fear. He completely disarmed them. Without a single bullet. He was no longer a victim of an unjust collective punishment. He was a free man reducing the soldiers to the silly executors of disproportional force.

It took us another 20 minutes to finally enter Qalandia checkpoint. It took us another 20 minutes to drive through Qalandia. Wow, your Hebrew is very good from what I could tell ...  - I told him in admiration, which was also supposed to tell him that I was really impressed the way he talked to them. Do you think I am a bus driver?Well no, I am a microbiologist,  I work with Jews, I work in hospital in West Jerusalem. But every afternoon I also have another job as a bus driver to sustain my family. 

As we finally passed Qalandia checkpoint, we drove to a bus stop, where our driver quietly left the asking another man to replace him. He went on the side of the bus and started praying.

After few minutes he was back on the bus and we finally drove off to the preyers from Mecca on the bus TV. Sorry it took us so long today - he said when I was finally leaving. Your probably will not go to Ramallah ever again.  It took us 2 hours 20 minutes to pass the 18 km distance between the two cities.

I went directly to a bar in West Jerusalem, to a place called Shraga just of New Gate. It took me 5 minutes walk to get to the place in which the whole #17 experiences sounded surreal to my Israeli friends, who run the place. Surreal, to the point where your realize people who you talk to do not imagine, do not realize.  Five minutes which make the experiences of occupation completely unknown, unfamiliar, unrelated ...

Meanwhile, this is exactly how the 'back to normal' looks in the occupied territories. The ceasefire might be in effect, Gaza might have dropped from the international headlines, but the quiet, non - reported violence continues on the daily basis, being an integral part of experience of thousands of Palestinians. Everyday.

***
In these 'normalized' experience of occupation -  shots at Qalandia are 'normal' in a strange way normal: a ritual exchange of 'love' between the IDF holding guns and Palestinian kids throwing stones. Rubber bullets and gas cisterns. Like loveletters flying between the parties that cannot get away from this hostile embrace.

Postcard from the seam zone. School as small as a matchbox

At Nabi Samwil primary, the everyday school life looks like any other school. The boys fight over a ball, girls giggle in the corner of the room and the head teacher announces the end of the break far too early. One difference is that the school looks exactly like it’s been taken from a Thom Thumb fairy tale. It is as tiny as a nutshell.

Welcome to the educational reality in this ‘seam zone’ village. Originally located in Nabi Samwil mosque which hosts the Tomb of Prophet Samuel the school had to relocate in 970 by the orders of the Israeli civil administration. Subsequently, part of the mosque was converted into a synagogue and became one of the major attractions for the Jewish religious tourists. Meanwhile the school was moved into the little one room structure that was left by a Palestinian woman who fled to Jordan in the 1967 war. Ever since that time the school was restricted to a single room without any hopes for further expansion. Now this single room serves as a classroom, headmaster’s room and a storage place. As part of military controlled Area C Palestinians living in Nabi Samwil faces heavy restrictions when it comes to building and growth of Palestinian livelihoods, the school is no exemption (see the bracket). It is impossible to obtain a building permit. Meanwhile in the direct proximity of the school grew a large villa full of Jewish settlers wanting to live close to Prophet Samuel Tomb.

Broken pieces of Abu Laban’s life. Mount of Olives off a tourist trail

Recent wave of demolitions makes us realize how physically temporary lives of Palestinians are. This temporariness seems be in the weird way ingrained in the Palestinian existence. Being born with ‘a Palestinian condition’ means that nothing can be taken for granted, nothing is for sure. Perhaps this is why Palestinian families we meet are so bloody resilient to the terrible forms of displacement they are experiencing. In some cruel way they are prone to dispossession that continues to happen. They are born with the amazing ability to sustain and re - emerge no matter how demolished and framgemnted their lives can become.

But looking at Abu Laban’s destroyed life it is difficult to imagine how he will be able to put together all these broken pieces of his livelihood. 

Our friends Nawal and Eid Barakat lost shelters for their animals and food storages

It’s Wednesday morning and I am leaving the office of Polish Representation in Ramallah. Unexpectedly my mobile is full of text messages about the demolitions carried away in Nabi Samwil. We know Nabi Samwil very well. We visit it regularly. It's a Palestinian village situated 10 minutes away from Jerusalem in a so called 'seam zone' - with Palestinians inhabitants trapped inside the Wall unable to get to Jerusalem or Israel.

Nabi Samwil is a place of amazing beauty and every time we go there I am shocked by juxtaposition of its beauty with the brutality of the occupation reality in this area. It feels almost unreal. Palestinian inhabitants of the village face settler attacks on regular basis and are not allowed to build any permanent structures. Their movement is heavily constrained, so while they can enjoy some of the most stunning views of Jerusalem, they have not been there for years. We visit regularly a small Palestinian school in Nabi Samwil and are friends with school’s headmaster. We also visit few families in a village.

“It is Nawal and Eid property that has been destroyed” - I read another text message. 

  

Week of cruelty and despair - Palestinian families of East Jerusalem loose their properties at the hands of the Israeli forces.

In less than a week four families lost their homes or livelihoods in demolitions and evictions and dozens of new demolitions have been ordered. Nobody here knows the answer to the reason for this intensity of this new wave of destruction. Some say that before the upcoming Israeli elections Netaniyahu wants to appease his electorate by proving than he can be even tougher on Palestinians than usually. Other say that Jerusalem municipality has released money for new demolitions before the end of the year. No matter what and why, these are not easy nights for Palestinian families in East Jerusalem and around.

The way demolition and evictions have been executed follow certain path of cruelty and disproportionality. While each of the families that lost their houses and properties deserve to tell their stories separately let me first introduce to some basic methods in which the enterprise of depriving people of their house has been carried away.

 How demolitions are carried away

• Palestinian families are often not aware of the imminent threat of demolition or eviction. That is either because demolition orders have not been delivered properly or because demolition orders are delivered only in Hebrew in a country where Arabic is an official language. And many Palestinians do not read Hebrew. 

• Demolitions are carried out at night or early in the morning to make sure that the affected will family be unable to resist and in the most vulnerable mode. They are carried out at night also because the only democracy in the Middle East cares about its own PR. It would be a very bad picture to see how the army destroys a house of an elderly lady or young family with seven kids. 

• There is a complete lack of proportionality - demolitions look like huge military operations with dozens of police, border police and special forces involved as well as the use of heavy military cars and, of course, bulldozers. Often against light animal structures like in Nabi Samwil. 

• The affected families are given little or no time to evacuate their properties. While the demolitions are completed people are left alone with the rumbles of their house and belongings. They are offered no compensation and no assistance of any kind by Israeli authorities. What they do receive however is a check for bulldozers’ work. 

• Victim families need to rely on few aid agencies and NGOs like Red Cross or ACTED are able to offer them immediate relief assistance like shelter, water or food, but certainly unable to provide long term help. Even the aid is not immediate. Families need to wait for UN OCHA assessment and after this has been issued other agencies could work. Sometimes it can be days before help reach the victims.

Read stories about four families that lost their properties this week and see the photographs

Eid and Nawal’s Story. Nabi Samwil Animal Shelter Demolition

Salim and Arabiya Story. Beit Arabyia Demolition in Anata - coming soon. 

Abu Laban Story. Demolition in the shadow of Mount of Olives  

Fatma Al Huwa Story. A house taken over by settlers in Al Tur - coming soon. 

Good morning Qalandia - photostream/ Dzień dobry tu Qalandia - zdjęcia

Dzień dobry Qalandio. Zapraszam do zobaczenia zdjęć pokazujących poranek na 'granicy' (między Ramallah a Jerozolimą) i przeczytania o codziennym trudzie ponad prawie dwóch tysięcy Palestyńczyków przekraczających ten checkpoint w drodze do pracy. Słowo pojawia się w 'cudzysłowiu', bo choć Qalandia wygląda jak granica palestyńsko - izraelska w istocie jest granicą między okupowanym Zachodnim Brzegiem a okupowaną Wschodnią Jerozolimą - czyli jest granicą palestyńsko - palestyńską na palestyńskim terenie zamontowaną przez Izraelczyków 'dla bezpieczeństwa'.   http://www.dombook.blogspot.co.il/2012/10/morning-at-qalandia-checkpoint.html

Here is a promised photostream showing morning rush at Qalandia checkpoint. We did not go there this morning as it's still Eid long weekend, so I had a bit more time to upload the photos. I really recommend to watch them together with reading how things unfold at the checkpoint here; http://www.dombook.blogspot.co.il/2012/10/morning-at-qalandia-checkpoint.html

Dzień, w którym Izrael zniszczył mi dom i wystawił rachunek za zburzenie.

Jedziemy do Beit Haniny, podmiejskiej dzielnicy Jerozolimy, żeby zobaczyć dom Sufiana Tahy. A raczej to, co zostało z domu Tahów, który w poprzednią niedziele został zupełnie zburzony przez izraelskie buldożery. Parkujemy przed płotem, wchodzimy do środka ... i przed naszymi oczami staje wielka hałda gruzu i pociętego metalu.

Sufian, który pracuje jako tłumacz dla Washington Post i Guardiana, zapala papierosa i opowiada w szczegółach jak w niedzielę przyjechały wielkie buldożery i w godzinę, a może półtorej na oczach całej jego rodziny, wszystkich sąsiadów i dzieci zburzyły im dom oraz stajnie jego trzech koni. Czy zdążyli zabrać wszystko? Nie, nie zdążyli. W środku zostały niektóre meble. Jeśli straciłeś oko nie martwisz się o okulary - wyjaśnia Sufian. I co powiedzieć człowiekowi, którzy właśnie stracił wszystko? I to nie z powodu klęski żywiołowej lecz oficjalnego nakazu zniszczenia wystawionego przez izraelski sąd.

Do naszych nóg łasi się kudłaty kot. Zabraliśmy ją do rodziców - wyjaśnia Sufian- ale wróciła tutaj. Tutaj jest jej dom. I tak mieszka samotnie w tych ruinach. Widząc skalę zniszczeń i wykorzenienia dziwimy się, że i kot nie dostał nakazu opuszczenia ziemi.

For English check this link

http://www.imemc.org/article/64408  

Czytaj dalej/ przycisk read more

It’s Shabbat habibti, wszyscy jedziemy tym samym sherutem a ja tłumaczę Izraelczykom dlaczego ‘lubię tych strasznych Arabów’.

Begamon at Yosi's house. Favorite game
of Palestinians and Israelis.

W poniedziałek po południu wyruszam do Hadery na wieczorne przyjęcie Sukkot u Yosiego w Haderze (nadmorska miejscowość na północ od Tel Avivu, a Sukkot to żydowskie święto). Po drodze kupuję kwiaty dla Rachel, partnerki Yossiego. Odczuwam pewnego rodzaju przyjemność w kupowaniu kwiatów u arabskiego sprzedawcy na Salahadin we Wschodniej Jerozolimie dla kogoś kto ‘jest po drugiej stronie’. Właściwie to powinno być to normalne, ale w tym kraju (w tych krajach) przekraczanie granic kulturowych jest równie proste jak równie trudne.  Tak czy inaczej  wybieram różowe storczykowe kwiaty połączone z granatowym suszonym czymś w rodzaju lawendy (kwiaty będą ważne w dalszej części mojej opowieści).

Pan sprzedawca jest nieco zaskoczony tą kompozycją a już w szczegóności tym, że nie chcę żadnej ozdoby ani błyszczącego papieru. Jak ja to dowiozę w typ upale? - pomyśłałam. Hadera z perspektywy Jerozolimy brzmi jak inna galaktyka, choć to tylko sto kilometrów.  Czekają mnie przynajmniej trzy różne przesiadki. A do tego, Sukkot to żydowskie święto, więc kolejny raz w tym miesiącu nie działa transport publiczny. W teorii. A raczej jeżdżą tylko arabskie sheruty. I taksówki. Za specjalną cenę. Żydowskie święta oznaczają, że z palestyńscy taksówkarze z rozbrająjącą szczerością za każdym razem mówią : it’s Shabbat habibti! 45 Shekels. Mimo, że normalnie jest 30.  Choć czasem Żydzi przydają się do czegoś Palestyńczykom.

Good morning Qalandia

It’s 3:50AM when my alarm clock goes off and I feel terrible. Some 20 minutes later Luc and I set off for Qalandia to the sounds of the first muezzin call for prayer this day. As we reach the checkpoint we already see 3 rows of around 20 men praying at the exit of the terminal. They never pray before the entrance, they want to leave the praying after they had left behind hassle of passing through the checkpoint.

I go to the Ramallah side of the terminal. Luc will stay on Qualandia side to count people who crossed. This early in the morning this whole experience makes me sick. The terminal is empty, cold and quite scary. Its still minutes before the sunrise, so the air is still humid and smells of urine coming from the corners of the terminal. 

On the other side, I slowly adjust to the checkpoint reality. There will be more and more people coming in with every minute. I have my little morning routines at Qalandia. I greet the bejgala and zatar seller and do the first round to check how many ID boots are open. At this point of day I have a ritual conversation with one of the sherut drivers. Married? - Yes. Children? - No. Why no children? Than I lift my hands to heaven - Insallah - I say. Where are you from? Bulanda! Bulanda expensive? (always!) Hmm, I don’t know, it depends. How much chicken? - he never gives up. The whole chicken? - Yes. I don’t know about the whole chicken. One kilo of chicken is around 25 shekels.  Cheaper than Palestine - he always exclaims at that point!

Bedouin party at Khan Al Ahmar - zdjęcia/photos

We are invited to Khan - Al Ahmar Bedouins to take part in a theater performance for kids and adults. As early as 2 hours before the show, just after the sunset, kids start bringing their little school chairs to the top of the hill waiting impatiently for the start of the show. They cannot standstill. It’s not that often that the real artists from the real theater (Jenin Theater) come and visit and perform a show based on their individual, Khan al Ahmar's stories. Stories of suffering, resistance and resilience.

Klan Al Ahmar community is one of the Bedouin communities that we visit regularly. They live in the small camp in the dessert, made of tents and wooden terraces, as close as 20 minutes drive from East Jerusalem. Jahalin Bedouins have been living in this area ever since the early fifties after they had been exiled by Israel from their original homeland in the Negev dessert. Once, Khan al Ahmar used to be a quiet camp surrounded by hills and valleys of Judean dessert. Today the camp is shrinking due to expansion of illegal Israeli settlement of Ma’ale Adumin. They are now stuck between 6 lanes motorway, sewage dump and ever increasing settlement. Even their livestock’s movement is constraint and the animals are not allowed to walk outside the camp to the nearby hills. Apparently, they pose a security threat to Israel.

Shu'fat camp - zdjęcia. Photos from Shu'fat - Jerusalem's ghetto

Read the full story about Shuf'at camp. Przeczytaj historię o obozie w Shu'fat - gettcie wewnątrz jerozolimy tutaj

Shu’fat. Ahlan wa sahlan w jerozolimskim gettcie

Im Khatib, seniorka rodziny Khatib,
w Shu'fat od ponad 40 lat CC-BY

W każdą środę jedziemy autobusem numer 7 do Shu’fat, obozu dla uchodźców położonego o 15 minut drogi od centrum Jerozolimy. Niełatwo ten autobus odnaleźć, bo nikt nie chce nam uwierzyć, że jedziemy właśnie do obozu w Shu’fat, a nie pobliskiego osiedla dla osadników, do którego jeździ zupełnie nowy i elegancki tramwaj. 

Obóz w Shu’fat kilka lat temu został kompletnie otoczony murem, z którego można się wydostać tylko jednym wyjściem. Wyjście to swobodnie można zamknąc ‘ze względów bezpieczeństwa’ i wtedy Shu’fat staje się jedną wielką klatką. Shu’fat jest otoczony nie dlatego, że leży na jakieś granicy, ale po to żeby odciąć i odizolować to skupisko palestyńskiej ludności od reszty aglomeracji jerozolimskiej. Do Shu’fat wchodzi się przez wielkie metalowe wahadłowe drzwi, jak do więzienia, w którym żyją mężczyźni, kobiety, a przede wszystkim cała masa dzieci. Powstanie muru dookoła obozu jest obecnie największym zmartwieniem dla jego mieszkańców. Większość z nich ma jerozolimskie dokumenty - w końcu od pokoleń tutaj mieszkali, niektórzy nawet w Starym Mieście. Te dokumenty to jedyny powód czyniący życie w Shu’fat znośnym - pozwalają one na legalną pracę w Jerozolimie i możliwość wydostania się z obozu. Od miesięcy jednak mieszkańcy Shu’fat spodziewają się najgorszego. Skoro odcięli nas murem, to pewnie niedługo odbiorą nam też możliwość legalnej pracy i przedostawania się na zewnątrz muru - tę obawę słyszymy w Shu'fat ze wszystkich stron.

I showed my ankle to a grocery seller and I feel exposed

After having spent 3 weeks in Palestine wearing our programme’s vest, long sleeves and and loose trousers I feel completely exposed just by showing lower parts of my legs. I must have reconnected with my feminine me I had left behind. I suddenly feel really uneasy about this reclaimed ‘femininity’ that I show in public. Exposed. Provocative. Naked. 

 

Last week in the midst of the Kate Middleton’s breast crisis I went to an indoor's swimming pool. It was a women only swim hour. To my surprise I found myself surrounded by five ninjas and I was the only one wearing bikini. After a while it became clear that the black dressed nijas are female bodies wearing nothing else but a swim version of hijab - a long black sleeved swimsuit with a very loose maxini on top (an opposition of bikini - I am lacking good vocab here!). Ninja ladies smiled at me and I smiled back proudly thinking how much I actually embrace this cultural diversity and how much the Dutchess of Cambridge royal exposure feels really gross from the perspective of this East Jerusalem YMCA swimming pool. Well, I should have learned from that event. 

Antyislamski film to woda na młyn wzajemnych stereotypów - głosy ze Wschodniej Jerozolimy

Protesty rozlewające się po krajach muzułmańskich będące reakcją na film parodiujący (czy też obrażający - jak kto woli) Mahometa znakomicie wpisują się w błędne koło relacji Zachodu i Bliskiego Wschodu. Każdej stronie dają świeże dowody w utwierdzeniu się w stereotypowych przekonaniach - że Zachód nienawidzi Muzułmanów, a świat Islamu jest z gruntu fundamentalistyczny. W tym wszystkim na dalszy plan schodzą zarówno niuanse kluczowe dla zrozumienia tej sytuacji oraz sprawy naprawdę ważne dla społeczeństw Bliskiego Wschodu - jak choćby kwestia postępującej okupacji izraelskiej na Zachodnim Brzegu Jordanu, którą od kilku tygodni obserwuję.

Boycott us all!

Jusuf Daher, a christian Palestinian of
 Kairos Palestine. Views expressed
 in this post are his personal and might not reflect
 views of his organization. 

Voices from the 'End the occupation' movement (2)

"Stop giving us money. The aid system that the Western powers provide to the PA (Palestinian Autonomy) actually normalizes the occupation” says Jusuf Daher, a Christian Palestinian and one of the leading figures of Kairos Jerusalem, the network that facilitates co - operation between different Palestinian and international churches in their struggles to halt Palestinian misery in the Israel/Palestine. ‘The situation right now is terrible. It has never been that bad. But yes, I believe we can live peacefully here together with Jews and with Muslims, like we did for thousands of years’ - ads Daher.

Western aid to PA prolongs the occupation
According to Daher’s view, the foreign aid that PA gets allows to create a completely artificial economy in the West Bank which indeed offers jobs and helps to cover for the basic needs of the population, but at the same time creates the false impression of stability. ‘You cannot run a healthy economy when Israel controls all imports and exports’ - he explains. What is more, Israel,  as the occupying power is mandated by law (IHL International Humanitarian Law) to care for the population under occupation. ‘This means that actually when you pay money to the PA you pay Israeli bills’.

Certainly, there is a humanitarian aspect to it that goes beneath political one. What the aid agencies try to do is to mitigate the results of the occupation and to make life in a West Bank a bit more bearable for the people. Without it, there would be even less hospitals, even less schools and even less jobs. ‘The thing is that at the moment people are more interested in their economic needs than political resistance' - explains Daher. In his view  the PA backed by the Western money actually diverts people from opposing the occupation to focusing on the consumption needs.