In the Light, Palestine-Israel: On the Israel side of the Gaza wall—Netiv Ha’asara & Sderot, part 2

Qassam rocket, fired by militants from Gaza, on display in Gaza passport control office

American Friends Service Committee office in Gaza

Sderot

From Netiv Ha’asara side of Gaza wall

Both communities are within 1 km of Gaza and often heavily attacked by rockets and mortars fired by Gazan militants. Nomika Zion lives in Sderot, Roni Keidar and her daughter, Inbal Yahav, live in Netiv Ha-asara even closer to Gaza.

…Not in my name and not for me did you go into this war. The bloodbath in Gaza is not in my name nor for my security. Houses destroyed, schools blown up, thousands of new refugees – they are not in my name or for my security. In Gaza, there is no time for funerals; the dead are put in refrigerators two by two in the mortuary for lack of room. The bodies of policemen and children are laid out and the eager journalists jump between the tactics of pro -Israel advocacy and “the pictures that speak for themselves”. Tell me, what is there to explain? What is there to explain?…

—Nomika Zion, “War Diary from Sderot”

Sderot

Most recent photos

Older photos

Excerpts from my journal as I explore the situation in Palestine and Israel

Nomika Zion’s house

April 22, 2013, Monday, Sderot, Israel

I enjoy Nomika tremendously. She is of my heart and soul. There is a profound linkage, part of it verging on romance, a physical and attitudinal connection that motivates me to return to Sderot. I must confess I feel something of this for Eric Yellin (now temporarily in California with his family) as well and miss him. He is more sedate, composed, but equally committed. To reach Eric and Nomika I must endure the notorious Erez crossing point between Gaza and Israel. Relatively easy this time, partly because I know the routine better and partly maybe because Israel has smoothed out the procedure. I rode on a golf cart-like vehicle, rather than walked. I did not need to drag my heavy luggage. No more insistent men who would argue with me, demand I allow them to carry my luggage, charge me exorbitantly. I’m not sure who arranged this, Israel, Hamas, the two of them?

From Gaza thru Erez to Israel

However transit required a long time to get thru, more than one hour. As we waited for the luggage inspection we were suddenly cleared from the area for a few minutes. I observed security people scurrying about and then all returned to normal: a bomb scare? Many were with me which may have slowed the process. We watched personnel search thru luggage. I’m not sure how thoroughly they checked my major bags. Not the usual mess after inspection. I seem to have lost nothing of value, in particular my photos and text files, nor do I believe they were opened and looked at. Oddly enough I did lose my olive oil of all items. I think I observed an agent looking thru a small bag and then throwing it into trash. May have been my oil. Why this? I have no idea. I did not question it because Roni Keidar was awaiting me.

During the long wait I noticed various verbal altercations between staff and those of us transiting. One young man in particular constantly argued with staff (he’d help me thru the turnstile with my luggage). All in Hebrew or Arabic so I had no idea of the content. Maybe about what he brought thru. A large man in army uniform than joined the conversation. I noticed how attentive and respectful he was to the young Palestinian. He cocked his head with an attentive expression on his face. He seemed to listen.

Israel side of Erez crossing

The usual questions to me from passport control—doing what with whom in Gaza, plans in Israel, how long, who, why, how did you meet, have a plane ticket? Minor hassle. I am experienced at this now and have many Israeli friends thruout the country. When I mentioned Sderot the agent seems to soften.

April 23, 2013, Tuesday, Bethlehem, Occupied Palestine 

At Nomika Zion’s another intense conversation, this time during lunch in the group building where I bumped into the guy who’d attended one of my shows in Berkeley California (in a home, sponsored by Jewish Voice for Peace) which Eric from Sderot Israel also attended. Turns out he lives in the same urban kibbutz as does Eric, Migvan. Nomika, in her usual, super abundant, extremely spirited manner—which I so love about her but wonder how that energy might feel close up—was stunned about the connection. Later we discussed the Jewish and especially the Israeli Jewish propensity to interrupt, be loud, push, and feel the center of the universe individually and as a people. She might exemplify this, another reason I love her. She is so Jewish (also part Austrian I learned, something she agreed we shared).

Eric Yellin speaking with a friend of Skip Schiel’s in Gaza

Netiv Ha’asra

Unlike the previous 2 visits, on this one she has been generous with her time. Always serving me, making sure I’m content, and never pulling away from a conversation. Our best ever. I made the panorama of the wall near Netiv Ha’asara that I’d promised her and emailed it. She opened it immediately and exclaimed, where is this? I’ve never seen this! I described its location. She said, we take our delegations to a different part of the barrier, a fence, and seemed to suggest she might change the itinerary. My small contribution to news from Sderot. Nomika tours the West Bank every 4 months or so, last time to Nablus where she bought expensive olive oil. She asked me to remove her photo that I’d made in 2009 from my website, thanked me for removing it from my blog last year and gently chided me for forgetting or neglecting the second removal. I accomplished this in a flash and sent her the link. Too bad—such a handsome person. She explained, never photograph a woman in the morning.

Nomika introduced me to Roni Keidar and said of her, she is one of the “best and most active members of Other Voice.” Eric Yellin and Nomika cofounded Other Voice, residents of Israeli communities bordering Gaza who oppose many Israeli policies regarding the Palestinians. Nomika  published an article about life during Operation Cast Lead, the brutal air and ground assault on Gaza in late 2008 and early 2009 which killed some 1,500 Gazans, some two-thirds of them children, and then another assault from the air in November 2012. It’s titled “War Diary from Sderot” (linked below).

I regret not writing more about Kirin, the young Israeli film student from the Galilee, now studying in Sderot. We met in  Netiv Ha’asara when I rode with her and her filmmaker colleague, Ose Oyamendanm, in Roni’s car. They are making a movie about Netiv Ha’asara, Sderot, and Gaza. Kirin is not representative of young Israelis. Much more aware of injustice to Palestinians, she lives near Palestinians so this might explain part of her story. Thanks to this filmmaking team I photographed Roni’s daughter, Inbal Yahav, as she told about the death of her good friend, Dana Galkowicz, in 2005, hit directly by a mortar fired from Gaza and killed instantly. Dana was 22 years old, soon to marry.

(Courtesy of Ose Oyamendanm)

I phoned for a taxi to meet me at 2 pm which gave me time to explore Nomika’s neighborhood. On an hour-long walk I met Sharon Ben Abu who with her husband makes sculptures (Haviv Art). I’d been photographing a metal drummer in a traffic circle, the drummer’s head  swarming with what might have been snakes. She called to me, hey, what are you doing, why are you photographing this? I ambled over to her, put on my gentle smile, and said, because I admire this sculpture, find it lovely, wish to show it to others. She suddenly warmed. Oh, she said, go right ahead, my husband and I made it.

This led to a long halting conversation (because her English was rough). I learned all the metal came from rockets and mortars that had fallen on Sderot. Thus the screaming swarming hair. When I revealed I knew Nomika and was staying with her, Sharon launched into a long criticism of something related to Nomika and the urban kibbutz Nomika lives in. Something about the people being privileged, living better than most Sderotians, and about the program that hires mentally disabled adults. She claimed they were cheated of their proper pay. She would not grant me permission to photograph her. Later when I told Nomika about the meeting I omitted the criticism.

Sharon asked if I am Jewish. I told her the Schiel-Sage-Zagy-mother story [that my sister wonders if we are Jewish because of how Jewish our mother acted and looked], which seemed to partially authenticate me. I said nothing about my mission. She didn’t inquire. On that same walk I photographed young kids playing outside their school, bomb shelters very conspicuous. I worked fast and only later, at another site, did a security woman stop me. No pictures! Nomika explained that a law prohibits photographing children’s faces without the permission of parents. When I asked Nomika why, she could not fully answer, something about pornography maybe. I felt I performed a possibly useful service by showing the ubiquitous bomb and rocket shelters in Sderot (also the walls in Netiv Ha’asara that protect residents from mortars and personal incursions).

I could easily reside in Sderot longer—if Nomika would host me and if I could find a project. I do love it there, purely Mediterranean and very western. Too bad most Sderotians support their government fully, as far as I’m aware, and Nomika, Roni, and Eric are such exceptions. I mostly fit, nearly as well as I fit into Gaza. With one key exception: the level of suffering and fear is much greater in Gaza. When asked, why do you go to Gaza? I answer, I am impelled to go where there is suffering, try to show it, end it. And my peers would be aghast at my choice of residence and allegiance. I doubt many would contribute financially to my project in Sderot.

April 26, 2013, Friday, Bethlehem, Occupied Palestine 

I posted the Sderot-Netiv Ha’asara photos set after checking with Roni and her daughter about her daughter’s photos and my possible later writing. All 3 gave approval. I’ve yet to make a decent portrait of Nomika, or at least one she approves. This is an ongoing quest, one of many of mine.

Haviv Art Multidisciplinary Artist Studio lives in Sderot, near the border of Gaza City. His works combine musical elements, East and West, a musical bridge of peace between peoples and different cultures. He likes the dialogue through art, because art has the power to grow a new generation of peace and brotherhood. He says it is recommended for all people, despite the conflict in his area, because his art expresses the need, even in difficult times, of peace, sanity, color and imagination.

—Isabel del Rio, Yareah Magazine

LINKS

Haviv Art on Facebook

Ose Oyamendanm’s ”Bridges over Blood,” a movie in production about Israelis and Palestinians working for peace and justice

Nomika Zion at 2009 Survivor Corps – Niarchos Prize Ceremony (video)

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In the Light, Palestine-Israel: On the Israel side of the Gaza wall—Netiv Ha’asara & Sderot, part 1

From Netiv Ha’asra, Israel, looking into Beit Hanoun, Gaza

Both communities are within 1 km of Gaza and often heavily attacked by rockets and mortars fired by Gazan militants. Nomika Zion lives in Sderot, Roni Keidar and her daughter, Inbal Yahav, live in Netiv Ha-asara even closer to Gaza.

This wasn’t my war, Bibi, and neither was the previous cursed war: not in my name, and not in the cause of my security. Neither were the boastful, theatrical assassinations of Hamas military chief Ahmed al-Jabari in November, and Hamas leader Abdel Aziz Rantisi in 2004, and Hamas founder Sheikh Yassin, and Al-Kaysi, and Shahada and Ayash—wicked as they were—these were done neither on my behalf nor for my security…. —Nomika Zion

Photos

Older photos

Excerpts from my journal as I explore the situation in Palestine and Israel

April 22, 2013, Monday, Sderot, Israel, with Nomika Zion

A full day yesterday with Roni Keidar of Netiv Ha’asara, probably one of the Israeli communities nearest Gaza, and 2 filmmakers, one from Nigeria and the USA, Ose Oyamendan, and a young woman from the Galilee studying film making in Sderot, Kirin. Roni hosted the 3 of us and guided us to several walls, the main wall for “infiltrators” as she named them, i.e., escapees from Gaza perhaps intend on damaging Israeli Jews, and a barrier to prevent sniper fire. There is around-the-clock army presence to prevent tunneling and several chain link fences to control access to agricultural fields. The village (Netiv Ha’asara, meaning path, path to something) is a moshav, a cooperative farming community.

Roni Keidar’s house and yard

She explained to us that all families, comprising some 750 people, have about 10 acres of fields each, and some 70% actively farm them. She and her dour, stern-looking husband, an agricultural engineer working for a seed company, grow tomatoes and other plants for seeds. Many of these fields squat between the Gaza wall and Netiv. She showed us the several walls, including one with a ceramic and calligraphic installation made by a resident. It’s called Netiv Shalom, Path to Peace, and invites visitors to add shells to fill out the lettering. For some reason we did not participate.

Netiv L’Shalom – Path to Peace

Ose and his hired assistant, Kirin, are making a movie comparing life in Gaza with life in the surrounding Israeli communities, an obviously good idea. I wonder if anyone has tried it before. In a minor way that is the theme of my various visits to Sderot. They filmed an interview with Roni’s daughter, Inbal Yahav. With tears in her eyes Inbal told us about the death of a close friend of hers, Dana Galkowicz, who at the age of 22, ready to marry someone from the moshav, while fleeing a rocket attack in 2005, tried to race into her house shortly after speaking with her fiancé. The rocket landed on or near her, a piece of it struck her head, probably an instant death. Death is a close neighbor in Netiv Ha’asara. Inbal named her daughter after Dana. Apparently severely traumatized, Dana’s former fiancé will not return to the village and has since married. Also, Dana’s father was in great pain until recently. As are or were many in the community. Less physical carnage perhaps in these Israeli communities than in Gaza and much of the West Bank, but a high degree of trauma.

Inbal Yahav

Dana Galkowicz (courtesy of the Israel Ministry of Foreign Affairs)

Roni told us her story about how she arrived at her twin passions: face-to-face meetings with adversaries and negotiations. She meets Gazans at the Erez crossing who are entering Israel for medical treatment and accompanies them thru the system. She is active with the organization, Other Voice, linking the 2 communities. She told us how Inbal, her daughter, at a very early age like 6 years (my granddaughter Eleanor’s current age), while living in Egypt (Roni’s husband is Jewish Egyptian, driven out or voluntarily fleeing shortly after Israeli independence), was excluded by an Egyptian mother from the daughter’s birthday party. Thru Roni’s persistence and the intervention of an understanding teacher the mother relented and included Inbal in the party. The 2 girls came to be closest friends. A case study in reconciliation—human beings transformed from enemies to friends. And she believes this can happen, should happen, on a much larger scale. I’m sure her story is online somewhere so I won’t try to retrieve details.

From Netiv Ha’asara

Roni recently returned from a 3 week speaking tour of the USA where, Nomika told me, she exuded high energy at an advanced age (I believe around 67, I’m 72, I wonder how long I can sustain energy for this project) and spread the good news of Israeli Jews who live close to Gaza and shout with Other Voice: peace with justice!

…as Israeli airstrikes shook homes throughout the crowded enclave. “Hi Roni,” [Mimi, a Gazan friend] wrote. “I hope you and your family are well and safe. What’s happening is really insane. Please take care and stay safe. Love, Mimi.” Keidar felt the warmth of the gesture but also the sheer weirdness of the circumstances. Rockets fired from Gaza—maybe even from Ibrahim’s neighborhood—were raining all around Keidar’s tiny farming town, Netiv Ha’asara. “Thank you for your concern,” Keidar replied. “I’m thinking of you since it all started and I hope you and your family are okay. If only our leaders would talk. Take care.” It took only a minute for Ibrahim to respond: “Our leaders don’t care about us. The situation is really bad and I expect it to get worse. I hear bombing everywhere. We are safe so far. Take care.”… —”A Brave Friendship Spans the Border Between Israel and Gaza,” by Dan Ephron and Sarah A Topol

Roni Keidar (David Blumenfeld for Newsweek)

Now Nomika who lives nearby in Sderot, herself a major story (all in a visit of less than 24 hours). First my impressions: high energy, near manic, interrupting me constantly but also able to listen, treating me with great respect, nearly every one of my needs fulfilled, passionate, dedicated to justice for the Palestinians, critical of Israel’s habitual militarized responses to threat, courageous, innovative (she claims to have founded this urban kibbutz), active, far from numbness (I asked how she avoided numbness, thinking of T—mainly my family, she told me, parents and grandparents, all very active politically, grandfather a founder of the Haganah and active with labor-derived kibbutzim), and constantly tweaking her long black curly hair. I estimate from appearance and stories she is in her 50s. She informed me about an article she’d written about Operation Pillar of Cloud/Defense that occurred in November 2012. It had been translated into English and published by the New York Review of Books. I found it on the internet and swiftly forwarded it with a personal note to my Levant list. It is titled, “It’s Not Just About Fear, Bibi, It’s About Hopelessness.” She slyly remarked, it is just a rewrite of my famous earlier article, “War Diary from Sderot”, which I wrote during Operation Cast Lead in 2009. But I find it is more—articulate and impassioned, a plea for wisdom.

Her story (I should probably take notes if I wish to be a professional journalist, but I don’t and I’m not—I’m a photographer looking for images and a human being forming relationships with a variety of people): in large part it’s about growing up on a kibbutz near a development town (people strategically resettled to claim the land). She observed racist hatred directed by her peers against those living in the town. Which motivated her to form the urban kibbutz, Kibbutz Migvan, in another development town, Sderot, then largely populated by Moroccan Jews resettling in Israel. The population of this urban kibbutz is now mixed and the site of a major NGO (that had its board meeting last night) offering social-psychological services to a wide variety of people, including mentally disabled. She showed me the many gifts and products from their production, ceramics mostly decorated by the participants.

Nomika’s home

When I asked her what Other Voice was doing to end the Gazan siege and transform the situation of conflict generally, she listed a variety of projects from Voice that brought Palestinians and Israelis together. During the conference Eric Yellin helped organize and indeed may have initiated 2 years ago (that I supported and promoted) a young Gazan man who attended gave an interview on the web which Hamas apparently saw. They tortured him, probably alleging collaboration with the enemy. He fled. But returned, was again tortured, refled and now is separated from his wife and kids and extended family—without country, perhaps barely surviving. All because of this “fraternizing” with the enemy. Nomika and I  deplore this attitude and policy. It’s as suicidal as are many of Israel’s violent policies. Nomika adamantly opposes these of her own country. She also listed the many international delegations Other Voice hosts and speaks to….

Wall separating Gaza and Israel Click here for larger image

TO BE CONTINUED

LINKS

“It’s Not Just About Fear, Bibi, It’s About Hopelessness,” by Nomika Zion, with an introduction by Avishai Margalit (in the New York Review of Books, January 10, 2013)

“War Diary from Sderot,” by Nomika Zion, January 13, 2009

“A Brave Friendship Spans the Border Between Israel and Gaza,” by Dan Ephron and Sarah A Topol

Other Voice

Ose Oyamendanm filmmaker

Netiv Shalom, Path to Peace

Dana Galkowicz killed by a rocket from Gaza

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In the Light, Palestine-Israel: “Giving Hope to the Hopeless”

We at the East Jerusalem YMCA, and as an active and indigenous segment of the Palestinian social movement, contribute to the reconstruction of Palestinian society, which has been facing decades of systemic destruction, dispersal, and violations of its national, legal, and human rights. Within this current political situation we perceive the need to concentrate local, regional, and international efforts in order to recover the just rights of our people and to build a democratic state where transparency, equity, and social justice may prevail.

—Policy mandate statement

Excerpts from my journal as I explore the situation in Palestine and Israel

May 16, 2013, Thursday, Beit Sahour, Bethlehem Occupied Palestine

PHOTOS

There are many sides to the various stories emanating from this region. One not often heard or seen is how Palestinian society deals with the effects of occupation: trauma, physical injury, loss of work, degraded dignity, and despair (for a short list).

Thanks to my geographical proximity to the East Jerusalem YMCA (despite the name, the organization serves the entire West Bank of Occupied Palestine), a 20 minute walk down the main road of Beit Sahour near Bethlehem—plus my intimate experience with the Y during my early university years—I finally thought, hey, the local Y, let’s investigate how it manifests its “aim of positively contributing to the physical, mental and spiritual development of children, youth and the community at large…”

(The site is also the third of 3 purported shepherds’ fields sites, significantly less visited than the Latin/Catholic and Greek Orthodox sites but touching nonetheless.)

Raed Abu Jriers, the East Jerusalem YMCA’s’s affable media and communication coordinator, set up 2 visits to people benefitting (beneficiaries) from the rehabilitation program. First to Raed Ateyyah, a 37-year-old who at the age of 17 was shot by Israeli soldiers—not during a demonstration but when local settlers attacked his village. His mobility was impaired, he could only work common labor jobs where he didn’t have to stand or walk, but now, with the help of counseling and vocational training, he is employed in a small garment factory producing clothing for “export.”

Benificiary of the Rehabilitation Program, Raed Ateyyah, severely injured by Israeli soldiers, with Abdullah, his social worker (middle),
and Raed Abu Jries (left)

His case manager or guide, a social worker, Abdullah, explained that currently after one month of work, Raed only earns 35 NIS (about $9.50 daily) but pays roughly half of that for transport to and from his village near Bethlehem. Leaving a net gain of some 20 NIS or $5 for a day’s labor. Where are these garments sold? I asked. —We export them. —And where is that? —Israel. —And what  label does Israel sew in? —“Ketty, made in Israel.”

Raed endured my photography, never offered much affect, a withdrawn expression on his face. This perhaps is an indicator of his trauma. Images of tranquil nature scenes covered one wall of the shop, which made a powerful counterpoint to the machinery and workers. A sister-brother team apparently owns the facility. (Background on what I photograph is often scant and since I’m not writing I do not apply myself very diligently to that aspect.)

Co owner of the garment factory

Our second visit was to Jamil Al-Wahsh, his older son, Ali, and the little one, Muhammad, in the village of Za’tara. Jamil is in his 40s, born with a major defect that rendered his feet splayed out, his legs akimbo, thereby severely cutting down his walking ability. Three of his 7 children have the same malady. Luckily for my photography they were home from school—Nakba Day—and so could demonstrate for me how they walk. The rehab program first counseled the father, and then installed additions that offered the family a more comfortable existence. Namely an entrance ramp, a sit-down toilet (vs. the squat), and for the youngest boy leg braces (which he refuses to wear). Contrasting with Raed Ateyyah, the garment worker, this man and his entire family were jovial, outward, and seemed to play to the camera.

Jamil Al-Wahsh, his older son, Ali, a daughter, and the youngest son, Muhammad, in the village of Za’tara—all 3 males have congenital leg problems.

On the ramp constructed by the Y program

Ali

With the family’s social worker

Preceding the tour, the director of the program, the humble and highly articulate Nader Abu Amsha, explained the genesis of the program. I was struck by how exploratory and experimental it was, beginning in 1989 as a response to injuries from the First Intifada, (“shaking off” or uprising, which began 2 years earlier), learning as they developed (he was first a volunteer, then paid staff), and then evolving into what appears to be a comprehensive program addressing many aspects of suffering: counseling, vocational training, physical services, advocacy, and general education. Some 50,000 children and youth were injured during just the first year of the First Intifada (roughly 1987-1993), or, according to Save the Children, over the first two years, an estimated 7% of all Palestinians under 18 years of age suffered injuries from shootings, beatings or tear gas. By 1993, the YMCA had shifted its treatment approach from the individual to a more holistic one, involving the entire family and perhaps the community, schools in particular.

Nader Abu Amsha, director of YMCA Rehabilitation Program
& Beit Sahour Branch

According to an estimate by the Swedish branch of Save the Children, as many as 29,900 children require medical treatment for injuries caused by beatings from Israeli soldiers during the first two years of the Intifada alone. Nearly a third of them are aged ten or under. Save the Children also estimates that between 6500-8500 Palestinian minors were wounded by Israeli gunfire in the first two years of the Intifada.

—Institute for Middle East Understanding

I asked, how do assess the presence and severity of trauma? Answer: from the point of view of resilience. We first discuss options with the beneficiary. We build trust. We share stories. We ask what they think and feel, which is usually revenge at first. Boys often manifest the “hero” complex, overrating their strength. We don’t give advice. We ask questions. We ask our beneficiary to report their suffering—Israel arrests an average of 700 children aged 12-17 every year. And we develop criteria for improvement. Obviously, the earlier the intervention the better, otherwise they become sick and need serious treatment. (paraphrasing)

Needless to say, I was impressed. So when Nader told me other agencies outside Palestine often invite staff to do trainings, like in Columbia, I was not surprised.

Rather than attempt to write a full account of the riches of this interview with Nader—a pity my news agency chose not to cover it, seems like poor judgment—I’ll simply refer my readers to the website listed below.

During the Second Intifada (roughly 2000-2005) as of January 2004, the Palestinian child rights organization Defense for Children International/Palestine Section (DCI/PS) had documented the deaths of over 500 Palestinian children (under 18). These deaths were the result of Israeli occupation policies implemented in the West Bank, including East Jerusalem, and the Gaza Strip since September 2000. DCI/PS reports that an estimated 10,000 children were wounded during that period.

—If Americans Knew

After nearly 45 minutes of this introduction I asked, has anyone ever written a book about all this or made a comprehensive movie? No book but several movies, mostly by the Y rehab program itself. (I list several on-line below.) My general impression of Nader is that he is sharp, talented, dedicated, and works hard. I enjoyed listening to him but found photographing him at the same time a challenge. He admitted he was distracted when I brought out my camera so I doubt I have any photos useful of him. And my writing is so fragmentary. I am torn between practicing my photographer’s eye and my writer’s ear. And I fail to understand the apathy about this story by the news agency I volunteer for. Maybe limited time and scant staff. Or maybe an inability to recognize a good story.

I walked to the Y in a drizzle, under nearly overcast skies, a stretch of my legs that is a good way to begin the day. A little after noon I walked back, again in some drizzle speckled with bright sun, and found a 3-person olive wood factory (factory is too grand a name, how about the less imposing and vaguer manufactory?) with the participants either eager to be photographed or quiescent. Two were smoothing out contours with tools that may have originally been dentist drills, while the third, a young man chain-smoking, operated a duplicating machine. The operator, a sort of magician, multiple times resurrected the dead and wood-embalmed Jesus with this clever machine. He gently traced shapes and 2 rasping drills dutifully followed instructions and carved out—resurrected— many Christ’s.

I photographed freely, and when finished the man nearest the door who’d beckoned me in gave me a little gift: a patriarch statue, maybe King David himself or perhaps one of the Wise Men adoring Christ. The face is too old to be that of Christ. He looks sad. His right hand has a hole in it, perhaps it once held a staff. What looks like a nail protrudes from the base, making the statue unstable. I treasure this artifact and introduced it to the other elements of my altar: Christ, Buddha, jasmine (in season), stun grenade, 2 cartridges, 2 candles, incense, various political lapel pins, photos of family and friends, Mediterranean sea shells from Gaza, and the ceramic plate AFSC staff gave me when I left Gaza. All treasures.

I ponder: are any of these olive wood workers beneficiaries of the Y’s rehab program? How have they been affected by the occupation? If not for the occupation what lives would they now live? Will their conditions be any different when free?

And further: as the wood workers can in effect resurrect Jesus, does the YMCA rehabilitation program resurrect—positively transform lives shattered by onerous conditions—its beneficiaries?

TO BE CONTINUED

LINKS

East Jerusalem YMCA Rehabilitation Program

Their movie links:

Coming Home

Buds of Hope

The Suffering of the Palestinian Child Under the Israeli Occupation by Ahmed El Helal and Mariam I Itani

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In the Light, Palestine-Israel: The Holy Fire Comes to Bethlehem

On Holy Saturday, May 4, 2013, the Holy Fire arrived in Beit Sahour from Jerusalem at approximately 3:00 pm. The Holy Fire appears annually at the Church of the Sepulchre in Jerusalem during a special ceremony performed by the Greek Orthodox priests. It is then carried and distributed to all the churches in the West Bank and to other churches in around the Orthodox world.

Thousands of locals and internationals joined in the joyous celebration in front of the Greek Orthodox Church. Local scouts and marching bands created a festive atmosphere.

Beit Sahour is a model of cooperation and brotherhood between Christians and Muslims. Throughout the troubled and turbulent history of the land, the people of Beit Sahour have always stood firm as a united community. Today, Beit Sahour is home to just under 14,000 residents, 80% Christian and 20% Muslim.

Dimitri Diliani, head of the National Christian Coalition in the Holy Land, said Israeli forces deployed heavily in Jerusalem’s Old City. He accused Israel of trying to stop Christians from performing rituals for Holy Saturday and of trying to erase the Christian identity in Jerusalem.

(Drawn from various news sources)

Excerpts from my journal as I explore the situation in Palestine and Israel

May 5, 2013, Sunday, Bethlehem, the Tawil apartment, kitchen table

I engaged in Holy Fire for the second time yesterday, in Beit Sahour (last year in Beit Jala, both villages adjoin Bethlehem), an easy walk from my home near Shepherds’ Fields to where the action would happen. Someone at the market told me to wait at the Hotel Ararat and there I discovered a high vantage point. Altho the building is about 10 stories high only a few levels have finished rooms. So I climbed stairs to the 4^th floor and leaned out a window to show the growing crowds. I then joined in on street level, sauntered back and forth to do my favored grab shot photography (aka hip pocket photography, aka wild mind photography), chatted awhile with a man who splits time between Virginia and Bethlehem (he works for GE medical), and eventually joined the throng to greet the priest with the holy fire.

I observed Muslims along the Holy Fire route, some of them simply watching, another group throwing hard candies at the car with the fire. Whether to honor the tradition or tease the priest I wasn’t sure. We walked by a mosque next to the Greek Orthodox Church. The procession seems a strong sign of religious co existence.

While waiting for the Holy Fire I noticed many drummers playing their instruments, about 6 small groups in my locale, from different bands. They all played separately. No one played together. I remembered drumming circles at home in the States where first one person showed up with a drum, then another, and more, and soon the large group would drum together, drawing more and more people, including dancers and other musicians—a large joyous circle. So I asked the guy from Virginia and Beit Sahour, you’ve lived in both places, ever seen drumming circles in the states?—No.—Could you imagine one?—Yes.—Have you noticed here that no one joins with others to drum?—I have, it is very peculiar.

So I concluded, perhaps prematurely, that this separate drumming mirrors the separateness of some or most of Palestinian society. Coincidently I’ve been reading in the current issue of This Week in Palestine an analysis of separateness, swashbuckling, bravado (shatarah), and impetuousness (nazaqah). Each for oneself and to hell with the rest. Accurate or not? Recent or long-lived? Ali Qliebo in his article, “Bravado, Impetuousness, and Swashbuckling in Palestine Culture,” believes this is recent, an effect of urbanization, and a departure from the relative civility of earlier Ottoman culture. What might this imply for the Palestinian freedom movement?

I begin to feel more of the widespread despair in Palestine. Cars are part of this—zooming thru intersections. The Palestinian news agency I volunteer for is part of this—lack of support for my work. Ayman told me that in Gaza anyone successful would not disclose the method of attaining success because the successful one did not want to share it with others. My host in Bethlehem, Johnny, is an exception in how well he treats me (while perhaps himself in deep despair at his unemployment). Have I been too long in this region, too many times here, time to move on?

Minor coda about Palestinian fashion:

While waiting for the entrance of the Holy Fire I noticed high heels, long shiny straightened black hair, and hooked arms (not only women’s in men’s, but occasionally men’s in women’s). I am well situated to notice such cultural signs. Because I’m out of the culture, everything here is new to me, and because I deeply appreciate some of these traits. Linked arms for instance reminds me of walking with a friend a day or so before my departure. I look forward to walking this way again with her. Very very soon. Too bad we can’t do this via Skype.

TO BE CONTINUED

LINKS

Holy Fire, a believer’s account

Holy Fire, a skeptic’s view

“Bravado, Impetuousness, and Swashbuckling in Palestine Culture,” by Ali Qliebo, This Week in Palestine, May 2013

Beit Sahour

“Palestinian Christians ‘mistreated’ by Israel at Easter celebrations”

Holy Fire Photos from Xinhua/Luay Sababa

“Holy Fire Lights Orthodox Easter In Jerusalem’s Church Of The Holy Sepulchre (VIDEO) (PHOTOS)“

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In the Light, Palestine-Israel: Nuseirat refugee camp in Gaza & Ayman Nijim

Excerpts from my journal as I explore the situation in Palestine and Israel

To all the children everywhere, whether already here or yet to born. May their lives be a little easier; may they suffer less, because they have grown up unencumbered by the shadow of trauma. May they be blessed with resilience and inner peace!   —Ayman Nijim

PHOTOS

The main event yesterday [April 6, 2013] was a visit to the Nuseirat refugee camp adjacent to the Bureij camp (Raghda’s former home) with Ayman Nijim. He is a program coordinator at the psychosocial service agency, Afaq Jadeeda Association (New Horizons). I learned about him thru Cliff who put us in touch. The program is partially sponsored by the Middle East Children’s Alliance (MECA) and includes a theater, kindergarten, counseling service, women’s center, library, and play area, among other offerings. At first I thought this might be simply a sit and chat sort of visit without photos but I asked if there was anything happening that I might photograph. MECA installed water purification facilities in the kindergarten after a survey revealed that what children in Gaza most wish for is clean water. He and a young woman, also a program coordinator, Fatma M. Khateib, pregnant and maybe worried what her next job might be since she works on a 4 month contract (when I asked her, what qualifies you for this job? thinking education, she retorted boldly, I’m good!), toured me thru some of the program’s facilities, mainly the main office and 2 schools. I photographed freely some of my most appealing topics—kids playing, learning English, singing, etc. We set up a few scenes of kids drinking from Maia project water installations.

Ayman Nijim

Fatma M. Khateib, Project Coordinator

His self-description from his fundraising letter:

I created and manage the psychosocial program “Let them Play and Heal”, the third phase, which is for children suffering from trauma, PTSD, hyper-attention deficit disorder at Afaq Jadeeda Association  in partnership with Middle East Children’s Alliance (MECA). PLUS, I consult with classes to teach women methods to help traumatized children in Gaza Strip, obtain funding through grants for diverse programs including water filtration systems, children’s trauma treatment, emergency financial relief for refugees, and scholarships for orphans, coordinate with international visitors, providing research and training sessions with local participants and write press releases and invitations for liaising organizations to expand program capacities…

I made two fundraising events, one was in cooperation with the Maia Mural Brigade to bring financial aid to the medical sector in Gaza…This was with a long-time friend, Susan Green, who is a famous American Jewish muralist and founder of the Maia Mural Brigade and the other was with Mr. Bill Salughter, President of Gaza Mental Health Foundation, Boston.

I am a mental health practitioner and board member of International Trauma Treatment Program (ITTP) in Olympia, WA.… When I was in Olympia, I took classes in mediation, negotiation, crisis management, program management and multicultural psychology.

All of these courses shaped my dream to apply for study in the States, I researched how to build peace across cultures based on my experience of living under war in Iraq and being a journalist during the toppling of Fatah Movement in 2007 and the Operation Cast Lead Israeli assault on Gaza in 2008-09.

Fortunately, I was accepted in two universities in the states; the School for International Training in the field of Conflict Transformation Across Cultures, Brattleboro, Vermont, and in Center For Justice and Peacebuilding at the University of Mennonite in West Virginia. I hope I can succeed financially to attend one of these universities.

Now, I want to achieve my supreme dream: to make something for my community and the global community. But what hinders my dream is the money. I spare no effort to find people who might be interested to pave the way to a student to enroll in SIT school.

(Anyone wishing to contribute to Ayman’s education in Vermont which begins May 26, 2013 may send checks made payable to John Van Eenwyk with a note “Ayman” to Rev. Dr. John Van Eenwyk,  P. O. Box 1961, Olympia WA 98507.) He already has many contacts Stateside, including the Corries, some others in Olympia, Washington, and generally seems well-connected with USA activists and educators. After the tour we met with Lora who had some ideas for fundraising. One was to organize a fundraiser in Gaza itself. Ayman scratched this idea, explaining to us that there is no such thing in Gaza. Unheard of. He even resisted calling a friend in Gaza associated with MECA Something about their friendship. No doubt, a culturally bound ethic that Lora and I didn’t understand.

LINKS

Afaq Jadeeda Association

Ayman’s program in the camp is sponsored by the Middle East Children’s Alliance

More information here

International Trauma Treatment Program (ITTP) 

Conflict Transformation Across Cultures, CONTACT, the program Ayman has been accepted into in Vermont

TO BE CONTINUED                      

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In the Light, Palestine-Israel: The ordinary-extraordinary life of a father and son in Gaza

Excerpts from my journal as I explore the situation in Palestine and Israel

Hesham, the son, and Taher, the father, live an ordinary life in an extraordinary setting: Gaza. What is normal here in Gaza might be considered extraordinary elsewhere. In this account I hope to show something, maybe only minor details, of their relationship. My audience is not Gazans, but people in my own country, the United States of America. To see father and son in some of their daily life—fitting a suit for a wedding, later a party of males celebrating the upcoming wedding—is ordinary for many. However, because of where Taher and Hesham live, Gaza, which is under siege, frequently attacked by Israel, suffers high rates of poverty, unemployment, medical problems, and with most of the world oblivious to life here, the ordinary can become the extraordinary. That is my hope. Sumoud!

All we want is to be ordinary. —Mahmoud Darwish

PHOTOS

April 1, 2013, Monday, Gaza City, Rimal neighborhood, El Shawwa Building, my home

Another improvised, spontaneous day yesterday [March 31.2013], Easter (for many worldwide, maybe for a tiny sliver here in Gaza where I observed no sign of it anywhere). Hesham phoned to ask where I was, whether I was free, whether we could meet. Two years have passed since we last saw each other: Gaza, the photo workshop he enrolled in. Despite his studies last fall in NYC we were unable to meet in my homeland. Yesterday we greeted each other with big hugs and the customary Arabic cheek kissing. So happy to see each other. Nearly like brothers. Or more accurately because of the age difference, uncle and favorite nephew. We strolled downtown, he treated me to a special concoction of ice cream and something like flavored ice. We strolled further, we might have had coffee, he phoned his father, asked me if I’d like to meet him. I said sure, and that began not only a foray into his family as a slice of Gazan life, but also a possible photographic project in Gaza—the ordinary-extraordinary life of son and father. After my recent Skype discussion with S when she encouraged me to photograph ordinary Palestinian life I considered who might be my subjects. Maybe Islam and Ban and their infant son. Which raised problems—the hijab or head covering (as Hesham instructed me, even if instead of me  a woman photographed Ban at home with her hair uncovered, etiquette dictates that those photos not be shown outside the family.) Then Hesham and his father walked onto the stage and might become the principal actors in my project.

Taher Mhanna (Taher in Arabic means pure and I believe fits him well) bought me chicken kabob and afterwards we visited his tailor to be fitted for new suits for him and Hesham. Before leaving the restaurant I tried a few portraits of Taher thinking, this will be the screen test, I will learn what sort of chemistry exists between us, how he photographs. The new clothing is for impending marriages. Hesham’s brother and cousin will both marry—separately—in the coming weeks, and I’m invited to some of the festivities including a bachelor’s party. Joking with Hesham I asked, do you know what bachelor’s parties in the USA sometimes entail? He nodded, but he may have thought simply alcohol when I meant paid sex, either a show or participation.

Not a particularly savory western influence. I doubt anytime soon Gazan betrothed males will partake in either the booze or the sex. I learned that the tailor’s business has diminished because of the siege Israel intensified after Hamas came to power thru an election in 2006. The business is now reduced by about 70%. Formerly they’d exported to Israel who would add a label, Made in Israel. All employees were male; 4 or 5 brothers, sons of the founder, run the business. When the founder died he was making a suit by hand. The suit now hangs on the wall and I dumbly forgot to include it in the copious set of photos I made yesterday.

When I photographed the line of workers at their sewing machines I wondered, what has been their education? How many have university degrees? What were their previous jobs? Why are they here? I could imagine a series just about this, portraits of some workers, with biographies or statements from them.

The owners and I joked about future clothing technology after one had told me that his father sewed everything by hand. I said, yesterday by hand, today by machine, tomorrow perhaps by computer. And following that perhaps a new clothing technology: not actually wearable clothing but virtual clothing—with a push of the button a new skin, one for cold, one for hot, one for dry, one for wet. Hesham added, the Japanese have invented an air-conditioned suit. No surprise, I added, from the inventors of the bread machine, the hybrid automobile, the digital camera, and the high-speed bullet train. The Japanese are very clever people. Photographically I played with the mirror that father and son used to see themselves in their new, overly loose at this point, garments. I played with the various personnel that helped in the fitting, including the main tailor but also onlookers and, when focused on Hesham, his dad in the background or nearby helping, or when on father, son. I believe the set portrays something about the relationship between father and son. And this might be a main theme in this series. Parallel to the tailor’s business condition, Taher has been out of work because of the Hamas-Fatah split and the siege. He ran a construction business and hopes now for new projects. He told me finding financing is slow and he wants to make sure he can work with his new partners.

Hesham had recently been accepted for a conference in Turkey about business (his major is business administration) that was to occur in a few days, but he declined because of the family marriages. Had those marriages not been planned, he might have attended the conference. Thus I’d miss him for my assistant in the photography workshop I lead and as a primary  subject of this photo series. He told me all about his studies in the USA last fall, at New York University in NYC, a program that brought Israelis and Palestinians together for dialog and often heated argument. He loved it, but found the city too busy and fast. He much preferred the relative peace of Boston where he went twice, both times failing to meet me—once to escape Hurricane Sandy and once to visit friends in a suburb far from Boston which is perhaps why we didn’t link. Like my friendship with Ibrahim in Gaza, my friendship with Hesham is yet another reason I am attracted to Gaza and find it a good fit.

It is when we all play safe that we create a world of utmost insecurity. —Dag Hammarskjold

TO BE CONTINUED

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In the Light, Palestine-Israel: I enter Gaza

Hear the prayer of our soul. There speaks our truth and faith: To fulfill our task on earth we need Powers great from lands where spirits dwell, Strength that comes from friends who have died. —The House of Peace

Excerpts from my journal as I explore the situation in Palestine and Israel PHOTOS March 25, 2013, Monday, Gaza City, Ramal neighborhood, El Shawwa Building, my home Everything the same, everything different. That’s how I’d describe my current feeling upon arrival in Gaza yesterday [March 24, 2013]. Familiar surroundings and people in Gaza (this is my 6th visit), entirely different from the way I usually live and with whom I live and interact back home. From Jerusalem to the Erez crossing from Israel in about 90 minutes, paid for by the American Friends Service Committee with whom I work in Gaza, very smooth. The road narrowed and became more potholed the nearer as we approached Gaza. The driver was friendly but not communicative, probably the language differences. He has one young daughter, I told him about my family. He’d like to visit Gaza, but can’t because of Israeli restrictions. So much for that conversation. Entering the border crossing or checkpoint, a massive one, buildings expanded significantly since I was last here in winter 2010, a young woman (behind glass and placed higher than me) interrogated me for about 5 minutes. Her first question was are you a journalist? I slipped and said, sort of, well no, not really. (I might have been barred had I identified as a journalist.) Doing what, with whom, who is the American Friends Service Committee, what do they do, why photography, photography for what and whom, etc ? I was puzzled by these questions since I had a permit. Is honoring such a permit conditioned on giving proper answers? As I wrote my Levant list, with photos: One might ask: by what right does Israel control entrance into Gaza? The entrance hall is much larger than is probably needed. I’ve never seen more than a handful of people using it. Like a facility built for the Olympics and then the Olympics are cancelled, rendering the facility useless. I observed a family of Palestinians, 2 women, both obese, one very elderly, with a small child, going thru the turnstile—with wheeled luggage. All had problems. Had I not been under surveillance by the ubiquitous cameras I would have made photos. First the luggage, jammed thru, stuck, pushed, ejected, then the woman. The older woman held onto the turnstile as she painfully inched thru. And she could walk. What about those who can’t? A motorized cart awaited her and drove the small family the 2 or so km to the exit point. Once past the prying cameras I pulled out my own and photographed fences, corridors, more motorized carts, walkers, etc. No rubble collectors like I had spotted 2 years ago, but I observed one tent with about 4 young men and boys in it, which I photographed, and another ramshackle structure that might have been a temporary dwelling. Do people risk their lives out here or has Israel relented slightly and does not fire on them? I learned later that after the so-called Pillar of Cloud operation last November,  when Israel again assaulted Gaza, 8 days of unrelenting destruction, in a ceasefire agreement, Israel expanded the fishing area from 3 to 6 nautical miles. And then shrunk it again when militants fired rockets into southern Israel during Obama’s visit 2 weeks ago. After the group of Salafists (fundamentalist Muslims) admitted responsibility, Hamas arrested several men. Going thru Palestinian security I photographed (with permission) an exploded Qassam rocket near a Koranic inscription, proudly displayed on top of a cabinet in the inpection office. As if to state, our religion sanctions violent resistance. The luggage check was cursory. Had I brought with me some booze and stuck it near the bottom of the luggage I doubt the inspector would have found it (unlike the last time I tried that). Luckily he did not find my medicinal pill cache. How would I explain this? Not drugs sir, simply meds. Here, try one. No questions by these officials. And of course the architectural differences between Israel and Palestine are dramatic, indicating power and wealth disparities very clearly. First stop, the AFSC office where the director, Amal, greeted me and accepted a hug with cheek kisses (Only for Skip, she told a colleague). Islam greeted me with a bear hug, Mosab greeted me with hugs and cheek kisses, and I met some new staff, the taciturn Hamed, and a grim fellow stuck at his computer. My good friend Ibrahim was on his way to Tunisia with Firas for a World Social Forum, and Rana is out for 1 month after she slipped on oil and broke her leg. No sign of the ever-present cleaning woman with her insistent and incessant smile. They asked if I was glad to be back. Oh yes, very glad. When I enter the region, Palestine-Israel, I feel happy, mabsut. However, when I enter Gaza I am super happy, very mubsut. Wandering around while staff met to hire new personnel for a documentation project (that I might help with) I discovered a poster in Amal’s office showing 3 Chicago AFSC staff, Jennifer Bing, Miriam somebody, and a man I didn’t recognize. They smiled at the camera as Jennifer stood beside the photo I’d made of Amal at a Popular Achievement Program festival in Gaza in 2009. This pleases me, as I told Mosab, often much more than money. TO BE CONTINUED LINKS “Tunisia hosts World Social Forum, and reflects challenges to Arab Spring”  by Medea Benjamin on April 2, 2013 Popular Achievement Program of the American Friends Service Committee

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In the Light, Palestine-Israel: Water Justice Walk in the Jordan Valley

Excerpts from my journal as I explore the situation in Palestine and Israel

Yet another untold story: the Jordan Valley is nominally the West Bank, thus Palestinian, yet it is completely controlled by Israel. Organized by the Jenin Freedom Theater and sponsored by EWASH, the Emergency Water, Sanitation, and Health organization—a walk for equal water rights in the valley (and beyond).

Israeli greenhouses and orchard

Cross hatched area is a closed military zone, Palestinians usually not allowed—most of the Jordan Valley, nominally the West Bank

PHOTOS

March 23, 2013, Saturday, Austrian Hospice, Old City Jerusalem

I get up every morning determined both to change the world and to have one hell of a good time. Sometimes, this makes planning the day difficult.

—E B White

I joined the water justice walk in the northern Jordan valley yesterday [March 22, 2013]. Some 100 people, most young, many international, assembled at 3 points, Ramallah, Hebron, Nablus, to bus or otherwise reach a small village, Khirbet Samar, and walk to different villages, all Bedouin. The Jenin Freedom Theater organized the day, EWASH paid for it, and the Jordan Valley Solidarity Campaign, among other groups, participated. The Freedom Theater performed at the first site, what they call Playback Theater, drawing on stories from the audience. They began by asking for emotions which led the 3 actors to embody each suggestion. The village headman or sheikh gave the last story, probably about soldiers and water. Much like Chicago’s Second City and Boston’s Story Theater by using improvisation to dramatize audience stories.

I observed only partial references to water, at least as long as I was with the group. I’d met the bus in Ramallah at the appointed time 8 am; it left at 9:30 delayed waiting for what might have been key people, like the translator (who vomited into a plastic bag and pail during the bus ride). So we arrived late to Khirbet Samra, the others had already left. After much decision changing we hiked the 3 km or so to the second point where the rest of the group awaited us. Then the performance. And then the lunch provided by local people—delicious but thin lentil soup, flat bread known as taboun, and salad. I mixed my salad with my soup, dipping the bread into the mush. Very tasty.

The walking was invigorating. The first time I’d walked with a group in some time, especially here in the region. And to be in the Jordan Valley—sheer pleasure!

As I emailed several friends:

i just returned from a long hot windy sunny day in the northern jordan valley with a water walk. today is international world water day….info here:

http://www.thefreedomtheatre.org/news/walk-for-water-justice/

i came back to jerusalem early to make sure i could reach jerusalem tonight. transport is always iffy and i wished to avoid camping out at the kalandia checkpoint tonight.

I bumped into Yonatan, now effectively the Jenin Freedom Theater director and successor to Juliano Mer-Khamis, cofounder and director, murdered 2 years ago, and Yonatan’s wife. I also saw the thin young earnest man who directs the Play Back Theater, and Susan, one of my less dedicated photo students from last year.

Not sure how to get back to Jerusalem before the night and into the Austrian Hospice before they lock up at 10 pm (forgetting to get the key) I hoped providence introduce me to someone driving back, at least to Ramallah by 8 pm when the last bus leaves for Jerusalem. Standing around wondering what will happen next I met my ride benefactors, 3 generous and jolly Italians, I think an older male and female with their young adult daughter—Marcello and family. They were driving to Jerusalem and had space in their car. He works with NGO’s on water issues, mostly providing services and equipment but some advocacy. He told me his organization has to be careful doing advocacy because if they are too visible and demanding they could be in trouble with the Israeli authorities. They are part of EWASH which provides cover.

Driving along the main highway thru the valley, off-limits to most Palestinians even tho in the West Bank, we stopped at the Jordan Valley Solidarity Campaign’s center, a house created in the style of traditional valley housing 100 years ago. The architecture surprised me. It was not a tent, my supposition about Bedouin always living in tents demolished. Arches, palm leaf roof (how do they keep the rain out?), internal bread oven, lounging areas with cushions, etc, all quite spacious and fitting into the land. On an outer wall, the words, Friends Meeting House. This I needed to photograph and send to relevant people—a little joke among clued-in people (like fellow Quakers).

To a limited list, mostly Quaker:

who would believe? i found this today, stopped in, chatted awhile, and  learned about the jordan valley solidarity campaign.

(
http://www.jordanvalleysolidarity.org/
). they had no idea who quakers are.

PHOTO ATTACHED. however, just suppose…

The day was extremely windy, whipping plastic apart, driving large plastic barrels along roads, and hurling sand into our eyes. I’m relieved we weren’t riding in a VW bus.

Surveillance camera and balloon over the Jerusalem YMCA
where President Obama was speaking

East Jerusalem

Incidentally, President Obama was in Jerusalem. I made 2 related photos, a Palestinian couple under an Obama banner, another shows the surveillance balloon over the YMCA where he spoke. Here’s what I wrote a few people about my views of his presence:

…oh, that tricky obama with his clever words and absent actions. the few palestinians i’ve polled here were not impressed. altho at least after genuflecting and making the sign of the cross to the israelis he mentioned the palestinians and their suffering. leading however, wrongly in my view, to the “widely accepted” 2 state solution. fat chance. you outta see all the new construction in settlements.

TO BE CONTINUED

LINKS

Walk for Water Justice in the Jordan Valley

Water Rights in the Jordan Valley

“The Speech That was Not Delivered,” written by Uri Avnery, about Obama in Israel

My trip to Palestine-Israel and Shaliach Mitzvah Gelt (an overview of my trip plan with an appeal to financially support Palestinians)

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A Little Story of the Occupation: With the American Friends Service Committee to Jenin (2006)

Those who have nothing they’re willing to die for are not fit to live.

—Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr

To give you a flavor of the life of one innocent abroad, a close call—for me and more vitally the Palestinians who experience this regularly.

The hour was late, the staff from the American Friends Service Committee and I were all tired, night was coming, we’d eaten very little all day. We’d passed 5 checkpoints on our way to Jenin and did not look forward to returning by that same route. We’d observed in the morning long lines of cars on their way south, which would have been our direction when returning. So we decided to drive thru Nablus, visit someone, have dinner, and return to Ramallah by an alternative route that would have minimum checkpoints. Part way there–a roadblock. Taxis waiting on the northern, Jenin side. We saw a few people walking over the earth mounds out of Nablus. We decided that Fida, Tahija and I would walk in while Thuqan drove around to meet us on the southern edge of Nablus. This would make possible a leisurely visit for at least 3 of us in Nablus.

Vehicles blocked by earth mounds

We soon discovered that this mound was only one of many, a series, stretching for at least 1 km, some 6 of them, dirt and stones heaped up, the road ditched. Fida had trouble walking up and down the mounds because she was recovering from a recent car accident and limped shakily. After 3 ascents we heard a gunshot, it echoed thru the canyon. The wadi scene was beautiful, the shot perplexing, we had no idea where it originated, where it was directed, and what it meant. Maybe hunters. We continued walking.

Then we heard shouting from high up in the hills, spotted 2 people, perhaps soldiers. Fida wasn’t sure what their message was. But she shouted in return, surprising Tahija and myself, in English, “I have a broken leg, I was in a car accident”–as if this might persuade soldiers to show some mercy. Instead: another shot. We ducked behind dirt mounds. We inched our way back and retreated, not sure the shot was fired at us or to warn us. Later Fida suggested they had shouted, “Go back or we will shoot you.” We chuckled about her choice of response–a broken leg, please have mercy.

Tahija & Fida

Later, discussing this with Neta Golan, co-founder of the International Solitary Movement, she confirmed a suspicion I had: “You are lucky, some soldiers would simply shoot and not shout. No one in the whole world would notice.”

Discussing why the blocks and why the firing later with Thuqan whom we’d phoned to meet us–it was now nearly dark and I suggested in jest that maybe if we waited another 30 minutes we could walk under the noses of the soldiers, forgetting they might have had night vision equipment–we came to the following interpretation: the Israelis had created the blocks after a martyrdom bombing  in Tel Aviv, stationed the soldiers, and sealed Nablus completely. Why Nablus when the bomber came from Jenin? Short-term punishment, recognized universally as collective punishment and illegal under international law. And long-term strategy to decimate the industrial and commercial center of Nablus. The 3 of us were mere blips on the radar screen. Nothing personal, you understand, just caught by circumstance.

While riding back to Ramallah I asked Tahija more about her years in Sarajevo–born and raised there, a Muslim, living thru the 3 year siege of the war. “For years after the siege had ended,” she told us, “I’d hit the ground when hearing loud and sharp sounds. Duck and cover. I’m over that now, and perhaps stronger for the experience. I can travel as I’m doing now (she just returned from 2 days in Gaza visiting AFSC programs), my husband worries about me, but I’m not afraid. Perhaps facing death does this to a person, makes me more able to take the big risk.”

I mentioned my pilgrimage experience in Cambodia in 1995 during the last days of the Khmer Rouge, hearing artillery fire each morning and evening, walking a narrow path thru the minefields. With an outcome similar to hers: I was strengthened by the experience of surviving fear, not immobilized by it. But I wondered aloud, what would I do now if coming under direct fire again? How might I have responded if in Jenin camp during the Israeli invasion of 2002? Will I be willing to enter Gaza next spring (2013) with the Israelis constantly attacking? As Art Gish from the Christian Peacemakers Teams said to me, free to die, free to live.

LINKS:

AFSC in Palestine

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My book, Eyewitness Gaza, on sale

A special deal: $10 (ten dollars!) off the regular price of my book (not sure for how long). Over 70 photographs in color and up close, unlike most you’ll ever see from Gaza.

 Eyewitness Gaza

Photography of the current conditions & struggles in the Gaza Strip, Occupied Palestine

By Skip Schiel and Teeksa Photography

http://www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/2902195

Use the code GIVE10 for the discount.

Offer valid through December 12, 2012 (11:59 p.m. local time). Valid for printed books only. A $10 discount is applied to your product total with a minimum purchase of $50. This offer is good for one-time use, and cannot be combined with volume discounts, other promotional codes, gift cards, or used for adjustments on previous orders.

Insert the code, GIVE10, on the “payment options” page when you see “Enter Promo or Gift Code.”

 Plus a digital version for a mere ten bucks.

 

I began the multi-year photo project that led to this book after I’d grown successively and painfully aware of the conflicts in Palestine/Israel. My first trip with a delegation in 2003 confirmed my decision to photograph with an open heart the situation and struggles for justice, peace, and security in the Levant. Growing up Catholic seeded my desire to travel to the Holy Land and “walk in the footsteps of Jesus.” My work in South Africa during the final phase of apartheid illustrated the many parallels between apartheid there and injustice in the Levant. My escalating awareness stirred me to take some sort of action to at least quell my own outrage. And that first trip brought me face to face with the famed Mediterranean light which continues to challenge me as an artist and human being. Also, personal connections with so many Palestinians and Israelis working for justice with peace—risking their lives—encourage me to continue….

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