With an Open Heart: photos & stories from Palestine & Israel: Musa Al Shaer & his family in Tuqu

Excerpts from my journal as I examine and portray the troubles in the Levant

Musa Al Shaer views his photos from the day’s photo session in the village of Al Masara

Several general impressions of my photographic colleague Musa al Shaer: he is a generous, hospitable man. He invited me to meet his family in Tuqu’, southeast of Bethlehem by about 12 kilometers, and eat with them. He bought the lipstick I plan to give M back home. He drove me to my home in Beit Sahour. He allowed me to photograph him as he surveyed his day’s photographs from the Al Masara demonstration we both photographed, and he showed me many of his photos on-line. He established and runs a charitable society in his village. He also shared intimately that finances are tight with 3 daughters in university (Birzeit, Bethlehem, Jenin), one about to enter university (Nadeen in the States), and 2 boys growing up. He would like to immigrate to the USA, he entered a lottery for which he paid money but lost.

At dinner, the exquisite Palestinian main course delicacy, maklube, that his wife had made, we discussed my query about checking the camera monitor during a photographic session. I launched the topic gingerly by asking, when did you begin work with Agence France-Press (AFP)?

1989.

That would be film days?

Yes. I shifted to digital around 2001.

And now about looking at the monitor. Doesn’t this tend to draw the photographer out of the scene?

Maybe but it also draws the photographer into the scene by showing what has been accomplished so far. I seek something about the event to show, something that stands for the whole [synecdoche], and I check to see if I’ve achieved it.

Ok, I said, that’s valid. That’s one way to work. I prefer something slower, allowing for gestation. And I used the example of his wife with a fetus trying to rush the delivery. That can’t happen (except for a Caesarian section, a procedure that is growing in popularity but that some believe is risky and needless, part of the rushed times). Ditto for the photograph. Or so I believe, mystically.

So my 3 arguments, not all used in this discussion, against incessant monitor checks are 1. distraction, 2. little developing awareness of what the camera sees, that is, anticipation, most useful for wild mind photography which I practice much of the time, and 3. this mystical concept of gestation, that the photos need time to evolve.

I felt heard, understood, and not a troubling thorn.

Two daughters and their older brother then took me for a little tour of their house and grounds. They wanted to show me some of their neighbors, the settlers in Tekoa, a name similar to the name of village. I photographed the children; buds of olives and lemons and prickly pear cactus; the settlement; and the monumental Roman mounded palace fortification, Herodion, in the distance.  (None of the siblings had ever visited. They explained, even tho Herodion is in the West Bank we can’t enter unless we’re with international guests, an unwritten law—no Palestinians allowed)

As we entered the village I made a short video to send to my sister who knows the family’s daughter, Nadeen, in high school in Juneau Alaska on an exchange program. And from the roof of the family home we could view the Dead Sea and Jordan.

Before this festive meeting Musa and I had photographed a non-violent demonstration against the wall and land confiscation in the village of Al Masara. So when I arrived home after the family visit I checked my photos (linked below) from the demo and asked myself, any better or worse than Musa’s? I’d say a little worse, mainly because of my relative inexperience. Or I might be wrong, some might be worth showing. The close-up portraits of soldiers and the panoramic of the soldier line. Maybe a few of the boys. Boys were the most impressive elements to me, along with some speeches, especially the one by Mahmoud, and also the restraint and apparent good will of the military. My theme with this photo set was boys with signs and men with guns.

Prickly pear cactus (edible)

Olive buds

Lemon flowers

Herodion with the Israeli settlement of Tokea in the foreground

LINKS

Tuqu’

Musa’s Agency France Press photos

My photos from Al Masara: With an Open Heart: photos & stories from Palestine & Israel: Al Marasa: Boys with signs, soldiers with machine guns

Tokea’s Voices

Khirbat Tuqu’ & the Silent World

Israeli Settlers Set Fire to Palestinian Agricultural Lands in the Village of Tequ’ in Bethlehem Governorate, August 2007

Welcome to Tokea

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With an Open Heart: photos & stories from Palestine & Israel: Al Masara: Boys with signs, soldiers with machine guns

Resistance in Al Masara slide show

Excerpts from my journal as I examine and portray the troubles in the Levant

As I settled in to what I thought might be a quiet day at the PNN office, only partially staffed because it was Friday, Musa Al Shaer, a photojournalist with Agency France Press (AFP), phoned to invite me to a demonstration against land confiscation at the village of Al Masara around 1 pm, followed by lunch with his family at his home in the village of Tuqu. Musa is the father of N who is currently in her third year of high school in Juneau Alaska. I spoke once with her by phone when she asked if she could show my Eyewitness Gaza movie at the school. And my sister E has been imploring me to meet N’s father, also the family if possible. Mission accomplished.

First the demonstration: the most peaceful, civil, respectful, well-organized, powerful demonstration I’ve attended and photographed yet in the territories. Since 2006 the village, threatened by the separation wall, land cut off and confiscated, has resisted with weekly non-violent demonstrations every Friday after prayer. Much like the village of Bil’in but without the publicity and apparently with less violence–at least this day (I learned later Israeli military has violently reacted to peaceful demonstrations in Al Masara). The scariest part of the day was speeding there from Bethlehem with 2 young men who constantly smoked, played music loud, and careened around curves and up and down hills in a reckless manner, which in the context of Palestine seems acceptable. No police, no management of the roads that I noticed, a complete road rebellion. Perhaps this is one form of exercising individual freedom. Or perhaps it is a comment on the wish to live.

Before the demonstration began I met Mahmoud Zwahre, one of the main leaders of the local popular resistance. He noticed my lapel pin showing Martin Luther King with the message Don’t let the dream die. He told me how much he admires King, and how King’s message is relevant to Palestinians now. When I asked him, who or what do you think killed King? he answered, the enemies of justice. Which is to say, the powers. We agreed that in the United States this comprised—and comprises now–elements of the government, corporations, media, universities, and the military. One might wonder if there is any connection between those enemies of justice thriving in the USA and partners in other parts of the world, including Israel, who gain much by fostering systematic oppression.

Mahmoud Zwahre

After about 15 minutes of waiting, when I had a chance to survey the maps and booklets about the region and the Popular Struggle Coordination Committee, we set off to the site of the demo—near the junction of the main road and the village road where people, almost entirely male, would soon attempt to enter their agricultural land which is now behind the first manifestations of the separation barrier/apartheid wall. Every week, the same struggle, partially symbolic, mainly a plea for justice. And every week massive power blocks entrance–M16 machine guns provided by the USA, communication coordination in part sponsored by Motorola, and most importantly massive funding a gift of the taxpayer in the USA.

What does this two-hour military action cost the Israeli government and in turn the USA government and tax payers? How else might that money be spent? Similar questions to those asked in the USA about funding its huge military mega death machine. Euphemistically named defense, when in truth it is offense—and offensive.

The two men I rode with, part of another media organization, readied their video equipment for the confrontation. While waiting they chatted in Hebrew amiably with the Israeli commander, an affable fellow that I might have liked to have as a friend and neighbor. He smiled graciously and seemed genuinely warm-hearted. How would he act during the demo and why were the 3 so cheerily chatting together?

The march began, led by a few young boys with flags and signs, the shabab, that at other sites of conflict might be lying in wait with stones. No stones, not one. When I asked Musa about this later, he told me, the strong village leadership prevents stone throwing. Soldiers and police, distinguished by the tan uniforms and brown helmets of the soldiers and the blue uniforms worn by the police without helmets. The usual division of labor is for soldiers to prevent movement, beat back demonstrators, fire weapons, exercise crowd control generally, while the police arrest and detain. Most everyone wore armored vests, all carried automatic rifles, many carried radio equipment, a few used cameras, most carried sound grenades and tear gas canisters, a few had tear gas rifles, most looked under the age of 30, except for the commander who might have been in his mid 30s.

During the confrontation I made a series of soldier and police portraits, also a panoramic of the soldier line, and I concentrated on showing interactions between individuals, especially the boys lightly armed with signs and flags against the heavily armed soldiers with their gigantic rifles.

The commander

Despite one incident of potential violence when the commander pushed one of the boys back across a line I was truly inspired by the maturity and humanity of both parties, activists and military. Musa thought one reason for the quiet response of the military was the commander, who’d been many times here and seemed to have developed a friendly relationship with Palestinian leaders and media. Musa wasn’t sure how the leaders controlled the rock throwing but it had something to do with adult pressure throughout the village generally, an attitude that dissuaded rock throwing.

At the demo’s end we all walked slowly back toward the village, soldiers, police, kids, leaders, internationals, media, everyone. I could imagine us hand in hand walking to Mahmoud ’s home to accept his gracious invitation to share tea. He called out, have some tea with us.

LINKS

Interview with MAHMOUD ZWAHRE, the Mayor of Ma’sara, member of the al-Ma’sara Popular Committee, May 2009

Interviews from Al Masara resistance, June 2011

Al Masara Demonstration Faces Continued Aggression, February 2010

Al-Masara against the Wall and Settlements January 2009

Love & Soldiers, Wedding in Al-Masara by Sheryle Carlson (2010)

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