Re-entry

I'm sitting in my friend Jess's apartment in New Orleans, listening to Amy Winehouse and cozying up to the AC unit above Jess's bed. Jess is painting her toenails and I'm contemplating the week ahead. 

The trip from Palestine was generally pleasant. The most common thought in my head was, "wow, there are so many people in this world." This thought was simultaneously encouraging and discouraging. Driving across Allenby bridge and towards Amman I kept looking back in the darkness and seeing the city of Jericho lit up. Goodbye for now. 

My taxi driver, Mohammad, asked me why I was going to Zarqa, and not Amman. I was the first foreigner he'd met who wanted to go to Zarqa. I told him my friend's cousin lives in Zarqa. Even at that point I was wondering why the hell I was going there if my flight left in 8 hours. I considered going to Amman and checking into a hostel, then I looked down at the bag of grape leaves I was holding. Souli's mother had given them to me a few hours ago. I had some warak-dawali to deliver to the relatives. So I was going to Zarqa. 

Zarqa is apparently a very Palestinian city. My driver, Mohammad, didn't seem too fond of it, because there was a well-known bomber who came from there. He stressed that in Islam, it's forbidden to use violence, unless you're being attacked, for example if someone enters your house with a weapon. Those terrorists are not true Muslims. I asked Mohammad where he was from, and he said Amman, but his parents were from Palestine. From Jaffa. Most people I've met in Jordan are originally from Jaffa, or Nablus, or Hebron...they tell me they're jealous of me, they wish they could go with me. "Khudi maek," said the guy at the exchange place. Take me with you! 

Mohammad offered me a place to stay with his family, and I told him I already had a place, but when I came back to Amman I'd like to. I told him about Couch Surfing, and he was really interested in the idea. Having non-Arabs staying with his family, speaking English with his children.....he showed me pictures of his three kids. 

Zarqa is a big city, the second biggest in Jordan. Mohammad called my host, Imad, and got the directions to the Electric Company, which everyone seems to use as a landmark. Imad was waiting for me there, and he was really pissed at Mohammad for charging me 35 dinars. He said he would've picked me up from the bridge himself....I tried to say goodbye to Mohammad politely, but it wasn't a good end to the trip. I had to explain to Imad that it was late at night, and there were no shared taxis at the bridge, and any private one-hour taxi would've charged me the same. He was still fuming. 

Anyways, Imad was just about the best host ever. I was pretty tired at that point, but he asked me what I was hungry for and suggested Yemeni chicken and rice. That sounded great. So I dumped my stuff in his car and while we were waiting for his brother, he asked me what I like to play on the guitar. I said, just random stuff. He asked me if I knew Depeche Mode. I started singing "all I ever wanted, all I ever needed..." and he flipped out. He really likes Depeche Mode. He asked me if I knew Duran Duran, and I said yes, a little. More points. "Now for the real test...Alphaville." I said, oh yeah, Forever Young! His mind was blown. I was laughing, this guy loved 80's music. I told him I'd play Forever Young  after dinner. 

His brother Jamal drove us to the Yemeni restaurant, which was in a strip-mall type place on a busy street in Zarqa. I took about fifteen minutes to get there. This city really is quite big. There were colorfully lit-up trees and big pieces of art in the roundabouts, which caught my attention. In Palestinian cities there is some beautiful art, but it's almost always focused on resistance to the occupation. To see an apolotical statue in a roundabout was really something, a luxury that reminded me of Tel Aviv. 

Upstairs at the restaurant there were booths where people sat on cushion couches around a low table, bedouin-style. The chicken was amazing. We got platters of rice and chicken to ourselves, and I could only polish off half a platter, which I thought was pretty good, considering. Jamal finished his plate, damn. I was impressed. 

I'm having trouble remembering my conversations with Imad, but I asked him if he ever got to go visit his family in Hizma, and he said yes, a few years ago was the last time. He's allowed to visit Palestine for two weeks, but he has to leave his passport with the Israelis as collateral, so he's guaranteed not to stay. 

"It's shit, you know. The Israeli state, it's really shit. This is the Holy Land. This is our history. You look under the ground, and you find something about Ibrahim, about Musa, about Mohammad.....it's really....wow. And we're kept away from it, from our place. And now there are people from Russia, and Africa, who can go and live there because they're Jewish...and our refugees can't even return."

I didn't expect to have this conversation in a Yemeni restaurant in Jordan, but I wasn't surprised. 

We headed back to Imad's and I played lots of guitar. I hadn't played in a while, so my fingers got really sore. But Imad was so encouraging. He said I had a great voice, but I wasn't using all of my potential. That was really blunt of him, and I appreciated it. He showed me some Alphaville songs. I'd never heard any except for Forever Young, but they have some good stuff. I showed him some CSNY and Porcupine Tree. 

At around 2:30, the coffee stopped working, and I had to nap. So I slept for two hours, when Jamal came back to pick me up. We drove to the airport on empty streets, and I said goodbye, until next time. 

The trip went pretty smoothly. My airline, bmi, was unexpectedly the best airline I've ever flown. British Midland International. The crew was super friendly, the seats were leather, the food was great, and the flight wasn't full so I nabbed three empty seats and sprawled out for five hours. I caught a little bit of Sherlock Holmes 2 and the new muppet movie. Most of the songs were pretty lame, but there was one where Jason Siegel is having an identity crisis and he's singing "Am I a man?? Or am I a muppet? If I'm a muppet....I'm a really manly muppet....." and it was really dramatic. I laughed. When we landed in London I told Eduardo the steward that this was the best flight I'd ever been on and he was awesome. 

Heathrow was insane. I walked what seemed like a few miles, then rode a 10-minute bus, then stood in a massive line with some Americans who were interning around Europe, then perched myself in a noodle bar because I thought I was close to my gate, then bought the Hunger Games, then realized I wasn't close to my gate at all! So I took an elevator, a train, and bolted up a few escalators to get to the C gates. Fortunately the flight was still boarding, but I felt like such an idiot. Note to self: see the gate first before hitting up the noodle bar. 

The second flight was also very nice. I was actually in a section in front of the door, where first class usually. When I saw how nice the seats were, and checked out my kit with socks, tooth brush, and ear plugs, I wondered if I was actually in first class. No, turns out British Airways is just awesome! I passed out immediately and woke up when we were in the air. I asked the man next to me if I'd snored. He said no, no snoring, no dribbling. Awesome. Throughout that flight I had a few pangs, seeing couples around and wondering how it would've been to travel on a plane with Souli, like we planned way back in the beginning and he suggested for this flight. His flight to Norway was supposed to leave around the same time, so he asked if I could fly to another European city so he could book the same flight. His trip to Norway was cancelled at the last minute, so thank goodness we didn't do that. But it still made me wish he was sitting next to me. I didn't feel like putting my head on this random guy's shoulder. I watched him working on his laptop a bit, it looked like a really boring document full of business words. I told myself I was lucky that I wasn't him. I told myself that, but I didn't feel it. After eight months of freedom and travel, I still felt weighed down by uncertainty. I knew I was lucky, incredibly lucky, but I still had a lot to untangle. 

I didn't sleep much for the rest of the flight, but I watched J. Edgar with Leo DiCaprio, a documentary about the history of Eurovision, an episode of 30 Rock, Curb Your Enthusiasm, The Simpsons, and I started to watch Tintin, but we were about to land, so I began my tradition of "start to doze off before landing so the disembarking process is as miserable as possible." But the staff were bright and bubbly and handed me my guitar from the closet, so I left in relatively good spirits. Well done, British Airways.

O'Hare was a blur. Immigration was so easy, baggage claim was stressful because I knew I was in a rush, but I went through the motions as quickly as possible. I made it to the New Orleans gate just as it was boarding. I wished I could sit and get a sandwich or some coffee or something. I just looked around at the food court and reeled at all the choices. Look at all these people...just.....eating! 

The flight to New Orleans went pretty fast. I started the Hunger Games, and got about a fourth of the way through it. It's really interesting. I wish I'd read it before I knew about the movies and the plot and the actress...Jennifer something. Now I hear her voice in my head. It's so much better when you create your own faces and voices....that's why I don't buy books that have movie actors on the front....

We landed in New Orleans, and the air outside the plane was humid and wonderful. 

Long story short, I shared a taxi to Canal Street with two business people who paid our fare (yess) and I called my friend Jess from the Sheraton, and she picked me up. 

This morning Jess and I ate at Surrey's, an old favorite. I got eggs and sausage and grits. It was heavenly. Then I bought a cheap new phone and activated my new number. I also got an adapter for my laptop, which I bought in Palestine, and has three weird circular prongs. Then we walked around Magazine Street and looked for cheap dresses. 

I keep playing with my necklace with the Palestine coin from 1927. It's weird to be back. Tonight I'll be going to a double birthday-party. I'm thinking of the question, "how was Palestine?" oooooof. Sounds like an extra good occasion to drink. 

Adeeb

I'm sitting in Cafe La Vie in Ramallah on my last night in Palestine, Third Eye Blind (Jumper) is playing, and I was perusing through demonstration videos and rediscovered this one....funny to think I was introduced to Bil'in while sitting in my bedroom in New Orleans. Or Walla Walla. I can't remember. It was two or so years ago I saw it, and I was so impressed by this man. I've been here eight months now, and I'm proud to call this man my friend. Just the other day, as happens in Ramallah every week or so, Adeeb drove by me in his taxi shouting "Morgaaaan!" I ran up to him and told him I was leaving Palestine on Tuesday, but I would be in Bil'in for one last demonstration. Unfortunately I packed my schedule so tight that I didn't stop by his house to say goodbye to his daughters. But I'll be back. Tutu will be so much bigger in the fall! Now the Cranberries are on.

My friend Megan invited me to Bethlehem to hang out with her friends on Thursday night. We took a Service from Ramallah to Bethlehem, and after ten minutes of talking she offered me an earphone and we listened to Jack Johnson and Lil Wayne and the Offspring the rest of the way. As we were climbing up Wadi Nar (Valley of Fire, or...hell?) a song by Dispatch came on. I smiled, it was The General. I used to sing this with my friend Zach at garage concerts in high school. I leaned back and started mouthing the words...

There was a decorated general with a heart of gold
Who likened him to all the stories he told
Of past battles won and lost and legends of old
A seasoned veteran in his own time

On the battlefield he gained respectful fame
With many medals of bravery and stripes to his name
He grew a beard as soon as he could to cover the scars on his face
And always urged his men on

(I nudged Megan and said this makes no sense because hair doesn't grow on scars..it would look really patchy and awkward...anyways...)

But on the eve of great battle with the infantry in dream
The General tossed in his sleep and wrestled with its meaning
He awoke from the night to tell what he had seen
And walked slowly out of his tent

All the men stood tall with their chests in the air
With a courage in their blood and a fire in their stare
And it was a grey morning and they all wondered how they would fare
Til the old General told them to go home

He said, I have seen the others
And I have discovered that this fight is not worth fighting

 (oh, shit)

And I've seen their mothers
And I will no other
To follow me where I'm going

We passed through the checkpoint before Bethlehem and I saw the soldier sitting with his gun and maybe he saw me silently singing Dispatch in the Palestinian taxi, maybe he didn't. Only I knew the old, overplayed song in my playlist had been reborn, as is often the case in this place.

Alright, it's 2 in the morning. Probably my last night in Al Aqaba. I just packed up a duffel bag and my guitar and everything else is staying here (ok, I have a big suitcase waiting in Ramallah). The night is so quiet, just the sound of the clock ticking and goats milling around.

Janice and I ate dinner at Haj Sami's sister's house. She made diwali (stuffed grape leaves) and kusa (stuffed...zuccinni thing), which is one of my favorites, and I could barely walk after eating a whole platter. Jamila kept serving me up more and more, and I kept eating more and more, and Janice was holding her plate close to her face so they wouldn't get any ideas. Really, I was taking one for the team.

 Haj Sami says he wishes he could come with me. And I have to talk about Al Aqaba in America. So many people have come and gone from here, but it's hard to think of myself as someone that will just leave....and forget about Haj Sami and the kids and the building....this house just feels like my house.

 Trying not to get too sappy here.

 Anyways, I'll be needing to tie up a lot of things tomorrow before I head out with my bags and guitar like a real vagabond. Tomorrow I'm couch-surfing in Ariel settlement, something that's been on my bucket list for a while.....

I got out of the Ministry of Interior with Gila, and thought, damn. I have to plan the next seven days with such precision. Every moment is precious. The only thing I knew is that from that point onward, I would never fudge around with this visa process. I would never around run around frantically, hoping some official at a desk will have pity on me. The only thing that can stop me from coming back here is the possibility that my blogging and filming in the West Bank has put a black mark on my record. I really hope that isn't the case. I was even prepared to give a schpeel at my appointment about how I came to the West Bank as an activist and now I'm reformed. See my nice Israeli friend here? I'll be staying with her. She's showing me so much about the complexities of Israeli culture and I feel like I'm becoming so much more well-rounded and understanding of the "other side." That's not bullshit, by the way. I've learned so much from Gila already. When we were in the spice shop in Nablus she pointed out some metallic goblets and said they were part of a Jewish tradition, when we were in the Tel Aviv Central Bus Station she said this place reminded her of when she and her friends would skip school and go hang out on the beach in Tel Aviv. For me it's always been the little things, piecing someone's life together, feeling their nostalgia. I've been told I'm a very nostalgic person. I just think it's impossible not to change as a person when you hear someone crank up the radio and say, "this is my childhood!" I haven't talked much about my experiences in Israel. Back in October, I said I would recount my Halloween experience in Jaffa, but I never got back to it. Why can't I just go stream-of-consciousness like I do in Palestine? The feeling is, it's just too heavy. I experience so much in Israel, so much that I want to talk about and discuss. But it's a total mindfuck. My mind is still moving but I can't describe the experience of sitting on the light rail train with soldiers and Orthodox families and teenage girls and calling Haj Sami and wondering what my English students would think of me now, embedded in this culture that they couldn't experience even if they wanted to. It's so hard to explain this feeling, so I think I'll be forced to chop it up into moments, like the Glimpses of Palestine. Here's one: This was after I made a slightly sarcastic comment about the "apartheid train," because the light rail crosses Arab East Jerusalem into the settlements, and Gila told me she agrees with the train somewhat because there is an interaction that happens, between Israelis and the Palestinians who choose to ride the train. So we were standing in the train, about to get off at Damascus gate so we could take the 18 Bus to Ramallah. For the last minute or so this little baby was fussing and crying, and his mother, Jewish Orthodox, was trying to get him to calm down. On the opposite bench there was a Palestinian woman with a baby in her lap, and once the Israeli baby had calmed down, the mothers looked at each other. Gila looked back at me and said, "see? they just had a moment." I spent Memorial Day (fallen soldiers day) and Independence Day in Israel, which wasn't planned but it was a very interesting experience. Now it's too far removed to tell the complete story, but three events are worth mentioning. In the next post.

update

In exactly one week I’ll be on a plane bound for New Orleans.

 The simplest explanation of why I haven’t been posting is that I got behind and didn’t know how to catch up, and it just got more and more overwhelming. Part of it is also that I’ve been embarrassed about how I handled my visa situation, and general lack of preparedness about that and life in general. I think if I had updated every day, this story could have been retold in a way that would reach a lot of people. But the story is personal, it’s not just my story, and it’s not over yet….so I’ll just keep trying to tell it in any way I can. But I have a lot of catching up to do, and I think I’ll only really be able to confront it when I’m back in the States, and some of the weight of being here is gone. I was crying when I confirmed my plane ticket. Over the last eight months I’ve mostly been able to keep a balance between light and heavy, despair and inspiration. Someone would always pick me up. In the last month I haven’t been able to be picked up, and that was a signal. It’s time to remove myself for a little while. So that’s my update. I want to thank everyone for their wonderful messages of support. I'm beyond excited to see you. Now I’ll write about last night.

GOP

My taxi from Jericho dropped someone off in Qalandia refugee camp, and as we got squeezed into a market place, the driver goes "badain tishtari bandura ya haje," which made me laugh before I even translated it in my head. "Buy your tomatoes later, old woman!" Though "haje" can't really be translated into English, we don't have that kind of word for addressing the elderly. You can use it when you're exasperated, but it's still a sign of respect.

Askin all them questions....

That had to be the sloppiest, most ineffective visa-extension EVER. I'm so mortified I'm even going to share it.

But I'll share the ending. If it hadn't been the start of Shabbat, I would have been escorted to the border and dropped off in Jordan. Not one more day in Palestine, not one more hour.

But thanks to Shabbat and this guy's extreme generosity, I have five days to leave the country.

Yesterday I went to the opening of the Ramallah Contemporary Dance Festival at the Ramallah Cultural Palace with my friend Megan. It was a phenomenal performance by a UK group called Ballet Boyz. I took some video, which I'll post later. Anyways, I remember looking around the swanky lobby at all the people in dresses and suits and thinking, "damn. they get to stay here and it's not even that controversial." And yet the fact that they live and work with Palestinians is controversial to the people who issue their visas to Israel. How fascinating.

I need a job.

To the citizens of the world

This is the letter Haj Sami wrote today...the update from today is near the end....

We, the 300 residents of the community of Al Aqaba, which has been in existence for generations, owners and inhabitants of the land even before the entrance of the IDF, are addressing you as a last resort. For decades Israeli soldiers used the village as, a training area a playground where live ammunition was used, which took the lives of 8 of our people and injured 38. Amongst them the head of our municipality Haj Sami Sadik, who as a result is now paralyzed from the waist down
.
Despite those acts of aggression, we have never resorted to violence, no terrorism has come from our people, no stone was ever thrown and we continue to call for coexistence and peace. In 2003, after petitioning the Supreme Court, the training camp was evacuated from the village only to have the civil administration place demolition orders on most of our buildings in 2004. Included in these demolition orders were the mosque, kindergarten and local health clinic with the rationalization that these structures were built without permission. In area C, which comprises more than 60% of the west bank, including Al Aqaba, the civil administration has rejected 94% of building permits requested by Palestinians. Meanwhile, Israeli settlements have been expanding at an accelerated rate. In 2007 we brought a demand to the Supreme Court for the cancellation of demolition orders, as well as presenting a renewed zoning plan for the community. In response the civil administration offered to approve permits for the small central area where most of the public facilities are located, but more than half of the residential areas would continue to have demolition orders outstanding. This offer excludes the residential area where most of our population's homes stand, as well as all of the cultivated land. Obviously this is in contrast to Israel's obligation as an occupying force, which according to article 43 of the Hague International humanitarian law must "restore and ensure public order and safety" in the occupied territory.

Today April 18th 2012 at 11:00 am IDF soldiers accompanied by private contractors appeared without with out prior notification to demolish 2 access roads to the town, named "Road of Peace" and Road of Displacement". The roads we build with our own hands in order to exercise our right to freedom of movement. These roads are part of our lifeline, as our sole source of income relies on our ability to move our agricultural goods to the market. This is the 3rd time that the "Road of Peace" has been demolished. On all of the previous occasions we did not take any action. This time the demolition came with a threat. An abusive officer in a jeep numbered 65539 advised our Mayor that he will return for larger scale demolitions in retribution for the observation of the road demolitions by internationals. These threats were made to a man who is in a wheel chair urging away the small group of less than 10 curious individuals. We are upset and disconcerted that our children witnessed this atrocity and fear for the psychological effects that it may have on them in the future.

We, the community of Al Aqaba, our international and Israeli guests, are calling for you to visit and see for yourself the harsh conditions we are forced to live through daily as a result of this harassment. Please help us circulate these words and help us live in peace.
Citizens of Al Aqaba

Demolition in Al Aqaba

The last demolition in Al Aqaba happened on September 15th, the day I arrived. Now the day before I leave for Jericho to renew my visa...they strike again. No one called me because I was supposed to be renewing my visa today. Instead I found out at the Wednesday night potluck on the Mount of Olives, when my friend Ryan asked me, "did you hear the news?" About what? "There was an SMS about Al Aqaba." I thought it must be impossible. Someone would have called me, and it could easily be Aqraba or Aqqaba. But I called Haj Sami just in case. In the middle of that crowded potluck table I asked, "Fi ay mishakel al-yom?" Are there any problems today? "mishakel ktir......" and I heard him say the word "street." He was choked up.

Now I'm back in Ramallah with internet, and Janice, who's staying in the guest house, sent me the e-mail she sent out to her list back home:

I've had a lesson today of what it means to live under occupation in a
part of Palestine called "Area C". it means living at the whim of the
Israeli military with very little recourse for justice. It means
that we can come into your peaceful world/village and cause as much
disruption as we think we would like to inflict. Palestinians living
in Al Aqaba are peacefully going about their business - children
attending school, the Mayor Haj Sami Sadeq busy in the office
preparing for the arrival of the Palestinian President tomorrow to
open the Tea Factory - a local initiative of producing herbal teas &
drying & packaging them with the cooperation or the Japanese Business
Association when his day was shattered to discover that militia from
IDF (Israeli Defense Force) were supervising their civilian
contractors to demolish two access roads to the village. One
ironically called the Peace Road has been destroyed twice before but
the 300 people living in the village and who have owned this land for
generations have never reacted violently at the continued destruction
of their village infrastructure. They have never thrown a single rock
at the soldiers or shown them anything but peaceful resistance. Haj
Sami Sadeq is a paraplegic as a result of being shot by the IDF when
he was 15 while working with his family on their land and yet he
harbors no resentment towards the occupying forces and has spent his
life working towards a peaceful solution to this oppressive situation.
The military were extremely angry today because their actions were
being recorded by "internationals" & even an Israeli citizen – an
American man & myself. The soldier threatened the Mayor Haj Sami
Sadeq that because of the fact he, the Mayor had invited people into
his village the military would return to carry out all the demolition
orders outstanding in the village.
The roads that have been destroyed are essential for the villagers to
carry on their everyday lives – moving stock around and working on
their land which they have done for generations – they are totally
dependent on agriculture as their sole source of income.
The military are trying to intimidate people into leaving so they can
continue to build settlements which are already breaking up the land
causing many restrictions on the lives of peaceful Palestinians trying
to get on with their lives…or at least some sort of life.
Just take a look at the photos & judge for yourself. Please take the
time to learn about & then inform others about infamous "Area C".

If I get this visa, I'm going back up to the village. There's probably going to be a demonstration on Friday. I'm guessing this happened because the President is about to come and there's usually a correlation between high-profile visits and demolitions. Hopefully the threat they gave isn't realized.

Effff.