Across the Green Line And Back Again
Hello,
I wrote this last week, before the election, I hope that you all enjoy it, more coming soon!
Across the Green Line And Back Again
Episode II: Proof of the Jew, Claustrophobia & the Subjective Sea
Like the man Lucas, I am skipping the first episode of Across The Green Line (my visit with my Israeli cousin) so I can write about my most recent foray into Israel. After spending almost 3 months of my time in the occupied territories, it has been, to say the least, a bit of a mind-fuck going to Israel. So, to illustrate this, let us start at the beginning, which is the village of Bil'in.
Having not spent the night in Bil'in for some time, I ended up sleeping there the night after the demo on Friday January 13th (Bil'in has been having a demo every friday for almost a year now). That day, as opposed to the more recent Bil'in demo on Friday the 20th, there were a lot of soldiers and not quite enough demonstrators to make a dent in their presence. So, after that all fizzled out, my friend Johan and I decided to spend the night in Bil'in, just in case the IOF decides to come in arrest people, as they have been doing for the last year. Lucky for us, two other activists had offered to stay in the 'outpost' beyond the wall, so we were able to remain far more comfortable and warm in the apartment in the village.
But, 2 nights later, we got the shit end of the stick and were out in the shack with some men from the village. Actually, it was a great night, as the area has been improved vastly since my first night there in December. The fire was roaring, food was there, the nargilah was bubbling away; a Palestinian campfire, complete with very loud political discussions in Arabic that I didn't mind not understanding.
There was also a settler or two that was hanging out there. which confused one of the more recent ISMers that I was there with. On the first night, it was Yossi from Kiryat Sefer that joined the popular committee of Bil'in and myself for some talk & hanging out by the fire. Yes, an ultra-orthodox settler, who speaks excellent Arabic, joining the political leadership of Bil'in on one of their most creative protests to date (check palsolidarity.org for more Bil'in details). I think that they know each other from before the intifada, but regardless, back then Yossi helped bring them a generator, a nargilah, food, etc; it was really something to see. Now, there were many a discussion, both nights, between the settlers & the lefty activist Jews & the Palestinians of Bil'in, most of which I can't say I understood (it does help here to be trilingual) but all I can say is that the more time I spend here & places I go & people I meet, the harder it is to lump any people into any one category. You just have to take it all as it comes & always be open to being surprised, which usually happens on a daily basis.
So, we left that morning quite early so that we could get to a seminar in West Jerusalem. It was given by PCATI, the Public Committee Against Torture in Israel, which became a wellspring of silly torture-related jokes for the rest of the day. SO, at 6:30 AM we trudged our way across the land of Bil'in, across the wall site, and back to the village where Abdullah of the Popular Committee gave us a ride to Ramallah ( Our shoes and pants, however were caked in the mud of Bil'in, which I would leave as a gift at every stop for the rest of the day). From there, we crossed the checkpoint at Qalandia, and made it to Jerusalem with time to spare.
All this time, mind you, I am working to accomplish what few ever do here in Palestine/Israel; to do many errands, and get them done exactly when I plan on getting them done without fail. Not only did I feel confident enough that we could stay in Bil'in and then get to Jerusalem in time to then get to the seminar. No, I had more plans than that! After the seminar, I was determined to go to the post office & mail a whole bunch of embroidery to soem friends in the USA, as well as some items of mine, clothes, pictures, etc. Then, to proceed up Jaffa street and to the photo store where I could return the camera battery I had bought & maybe get one that works (I had the camera with me). Then, get to the bus station & get to Tel Aviv, where I would spend the night at the apartment of an Israeli anarchist activist (and call him before I leave Jerusalem to see if I can stay with him; small detail, of course!). In Tel Aviv, I would proceed to the Ministry of the Interior and get my visa extended, for a month if I'm lucky, and then while in Tel Aviv, if I have time, see King Kong & get back either to Tel Rumeida or Ramallah, in time for the next Bil'in demo.
No Problem, right?
Well, we met up with the rest of the torture-seminar attendees at the Damascus Gate at 9:30, and before we knew it, we were loaded into vans and heading for some obscure neighborhood in West Jerusalem, which turned out to be quite near the Yad Vashem. And then, the torture began! All 20 some odd of us were in a very small room that got really hot really quick, and talked the rest of the day about, well, torture; the legal system that supports it, the work that the center does to oppose and highlight it & the various organizations that deal with related subjects. All in all, it was really a good day, and most of all I was happy to meet one of the many 'respectful' organizations in Israel that deal with the abuses of the Occupation; there is the ICAHD, PCATI, Btselem, HAMOKED, and the list goes on. Although the work that I have been doing with ISM has been and is very important, we would be nowhere without the work that these organizations do, I reccomend googling all these groups & more. I'm just glad I stayed awake for most of it, I didn't sleep more than 5 hours at the shed the night before; yes, sleep deprivation... nevermind!
So, eventually the torture ended, and we all left. I was able to negotiate being dropped off near the Post Office on Jaffa Street, so that I could rid myself of the bags of embroidery and other items that I was clumsily lugging around all day. At the post office is one of many very poorly manned security 'checkpoints' that just about every Israeli building is endowed with. So, I put my bags of clothes and my backpack on the table, walk through the metal detector, and then open the backpack for what I expect will be a thorough search. Instead, the man looks at the bag, which is very full, and then asks me for my passport instead. I asked him, "are you saying that I need to show you my passport just to go to the post office?" I mean, this guy is not immigration or border police, he's just one of the so many shittly paid under-trained dudes working as security guards at places where most of them can't afford to shop or eat. He responds "well, you bag is hard to search." As I hand him my passport, I think to myself, what did he just say? That because my bag is hard to check, he'll just look at my passport? What in god's name does that prove? I just hope that everyone else on line feels a false sense of security, cause i sure as hell don't.
So, I'm in the post office, and soon enough, I am assembling 3 boxes full of good stuff to be shipped to the USA. And, yes, my first errand is done! I leave the post office, walk further into West Jerusalem on Jaffa street, and complete the second errand, which is to return a battery for the new video camera that has been bought for ISM. And can you believe it, that works out flawlessly! Although I do not find the correct one, I get my money back and continue down the road towards the bus station, where I stumble upon another store that ends up having just the battery I need (and it lasts long, like 5-6 hours i think!). So, pushing my luck, I proceed to the bus station and call Jonothan to see if I can crash at his place in Jaffa, and lo and behold, success!!! I'm glad not only so I can be in Jaffa, but because the last time i was in Jaffa I stayed at an Israeli hostel and it was a little weird. I mean here I am in Jaffa, one of many Palestinian cities that were ethnically cleansed in 1948, and since then swallowed up by the newly built Tel Aviv, and this hostel doesn't even have Palestine written anywhere. All the maps fail to display the green line, just one big land of Israel, nothing more and nothing less. I guess I've stayed at hostels in East Jerusalem too much, where Palestine and various political issues are displayed quite prominetly; those btselem reports are just strewn everywhere, I tell you!
So, into the station (through the back, the security line in the front is a zoo, and there are SO many soldiers) and onto the 405 bus to Tel Aviv. I am sitting next to yet another grumpy looking mal-adjusted Israeli dude, but no matter, in about an hour I am there. Now the central bus station is really confusing, but this time around I find the right bus to get to Jaffa & meet Jonothan at the clock tower. I throw out the bottle of Leban I am drinking (buttermilk) because he is a pretty serious vegan, and after hanging out for a bit I have a great vegan meal with him and his girlfriend Eva. The apartment is really amazing, and like many of the older buildings there in a state of falling apart. Jaffa, which was once the Bride of The Mediterranean and a bustling port, has now been relegated to the status of ghetto, and the crumbling old buildings of that era are quickly being replaced by gentrifying crap. so it goes.
The next morning I head to the ministry of the interior, getting up yet again far earlier than I would choose, and leaving most of my stuff at their apartment. As I thought, and Jonothan confirmed, I would have my backpack so thoroughly searched, that it made sense to leave it there. But, that also made my departure more difficult, as I wanted to leave straight from the ministry and maybe spend two days in Tel Rumeida before going to the big demo in Bil'in. Oh well, off I go, taking a taxi and spending money far too quickly, and I end up at the brand new shiny building that houses the ministry of the interior and many other government offices, like for example some department of gun permits. I arrive at the office and slowly weave my way around the needed forms & find the correct beaurocrat to bother, which turns out to be a very pale looking middle aged man with bright, almost white gray hair. He is, from the start a very official and unfriendly, yet in a strange way helpful guy that has been dealing in files, forms, staples and stickers for a long time it seems. Crowding around his window, aside from myself, are a very interesting cast of characters. There is the Danish guy that seems to be married to an Israeli and is trying to get his papers and permissions and visas dealt with; there is a the Russian guy that is getting his work permit approved, extended, or who knows, maybe he is going to become a citizen; there is a woman that may very well be a Russian prostitute (she certainly was dressing the part), and then the orthodox Jewish-American wife of a Yeshiva student, complete with her whig, an American English accent to her Hebrew, and the first of what will be probably a few more kids.
Then there was me. I gave him my forms, some money, ran downstairs and back with some passport photos, and read while my papers were being processed. As I sat, I thought of my ISMer friends that had been recently denied their visa extension. They had been arrested already, and though the charges were dropped, they still got in the system and the Shin Bet had marked them for no visa. So, I was called to the window, and the man asked me the first of two questions. Since the form had had a place for my religion, I figured that now was the time to play the Jew card, to use my privilege so that I can do more solidarity work with the Palestinians. So he asks me "Do you have any proof with you that you are Jewish?" Now, an hour later and onwards I thought of every great response to such a crazy question (most having to do with dropping my pants), but all I could manage at the time was "uh, No." Then, he asks me about my plans to stay, and on the form I had stated that I wanted to spend more time with my friends and family, period. So, he asks me, who are your family here in Israel, where do they live? I respond that I have one cousin that lives in Kibbutz Mizra... he cuts me off at that point with a knowing nod, saying " Ahh, Mizra" and looks down again and continues his cutting, peeling and pasting. At that point he also asks me, so you only need one month, to which I say yes, and then goes to sticking the new visa onto my passport. I ask him, do you think you could stick it to the paper that has my old visa, to which I get the curt response of "No, this way, or not!" So, I give in, he sticks it in, and then asks me "So, you want to visit an Arab country?" In that moment, it is as if I am transported to Zaatara checkpoint, where a 20 something year old punk-ass soldier asks me "what is so special about Nablus?" Yes, I guess outside all those safe White Western Modern countries, there is nothing worth seeing or doing, and certainly no people worth knowing.
As I took my passport, I thought to myself, yes, I am going to visit an Arab country, and it is called Palestine.
So, in a daze and completly surprised that I have gotten my visa extended with very few snags in my plan, I start to walk down the street. Not knowing what to do next, and seeing that it is 10:00 AM, I cross the street to the Asreli center, which contains a big old shopping mall. I walk into this mall, and I am instantly somewhere between Israel and the USA; I mean, I am in a mall, but it's Israel, not Route 17 in New Jersey, and I am surrounded by soldiers in uniform with their rifles slung around their shoulders. I sit down at a coffee shop, where I have coffee & some food and just watch what's around me, feeling really out of place and uncomfortable. The table across from me has two police women, next to me a couple russian women speaking russian, and in the other direction a lot of fashionably dressed young Israeli girls with credit cards in hand. But, the mall does have something I want, which is King Kong! As a person who loved Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings trilogy, I really wanted to see this one, so after coffee and people watching, I went to see all 3 hours of it at the 11:30 showing.
As I really need to finish this tale, I will skip my feelings on the film, after which I emerged from the theater... to the goddamn shopping mall!!! It had been long enough in that movie that I had almost forgotten where I was, and so all that wierdness of the Israeli shopping mall scene came rushing back, and there was no solution but getting the heck out! I then walked from there to dizzengoff center, but it dawned on me by then, after looking at my visa a few times, that I had been given 2 more months, not just one. This I didn't expect, and really couldn't process at all. I mean, I would like to stay longer, the work that I am doing is really important, but I really miss my girlfriend, my friends, my life back in the USA. I also am starting to see how addictive the work we do here can be; as a friend who left said in an email, he misses the action, the intensity. It is pretty unique, much more intense than the usual 9-5 reality at home, that's for sure. So, it kind of evokes a mild panic in me, one which starts to grow as I keep walking.
After trying to find cheap mini dv tapes at the dizengoff center, I flee from yet another mall, and really start to feel the panic, almost like a mild claustrophobia. I think; I need to get to the sea, just get to the ocean and you will feel better. The way Tel Aviv is built, I know the ocean is near, but I just can't get there, I keep getting shunted off to these streets that should get me closer, but to no avail. Finally though, I emerge from the confusion of poor city planning and large crappy buildings to arrive at the sea. And you know, it really did help, walking down the beach, I was able to relax and calm down after a crazy day or two. I thought at that point of many things. I thought of my ridiculous amount of walking, in jerusalem and tel aviv, and that I am probably avoiding buses for the obvious reason of suicide bombings. I'm not sure what to say about that, but there have been many times that I have taken buses, but I do like walking, and try and do some whenever I get the chance. But, I think that the more time you spend in either community, the more you tend to ignore, downplay or rationalize the suffering of others. Israelis may know a few general things about the occupation, but not much really. And when you are in Ramallah or Hebron most of the time, suicide bombings become less than real, and nothing when compared to the weight and oppresion of the occupation that you see and feel every day. In the end, one must keep in mind that along with the political realities, there are the personal, subjective realities, and one person's anxiety when taking buses shouldn't be ignored, especially when it is your own.
After being healed by the sea, at least for now, I arrive in Jaffa and get my things packed & finally eat something (the most expensive shwarma sandwich yet!) which I had not gotten around to all day. Being about 4 or 5 PM, it was kind of necessary, both mentally and physically. I get on a bus to the station, overhearing the mixed english-hebrew conversation of a bunch of American & Israeli Jewish young people, and make my way to the 405 bus back to Jerusalem. With my return delayed by the days events, I decide to put off Tel Rumeida and go to Jerusalem and then to the Bil'in demo.
And soon enough, I am at the hostel by the Damascus Gate and back across the green line. It never ceases to amaze me how many realities this place contains, both within each side of the line and between it (read Joe Sacco's book Palestine & you'll find out what I mean). It also amazes me how many and how few of those worlds and communities interact and intersect; if you want, you can live in your chosen bubble in Israel and forget the occupation or anything else unpleasant. And those under the weight of that occupation are being cleaved off and compressed into smaller and smaller isolated pockets; isolated from each other, and isolated from the world.
After that night and the next day in Jerusalem, I returned to Ramallah and got ready for the next demo. That day, a suicide bombing was done in Tel Aviv.
But I was across the green line; but was I safe... inshallah, inshallah.
I wrote this last week, before the election, I hope that you all enjoy it, more coming soon!
Across the Green Line And Back Again
Episode II: Proof of the Jew, Claustrophobia & the Subjective Sea
Like the man Lucas, I am skipping the first episode of Across The Green Line (my visit with my Israeli cousin) so I can write about my most recent foray into Israel. After spending almost 3 months of my time in the occupied territories, it has been, to say the least, a bit of a mind-fuck going to Israel. So, to illustrate this, let us start at the beginning, which is the village of Bil'in.
Having not spent the night in Bil'in for some time, I ended up sleeping there the night after the demo on Friday January 13th (Bil'in has been having a demo every friday for almost a year now). That day, as opposed to the more recent Bil'in demo on Friday the 20th, there were a lot of soldiers and not quite enough demonstrators to make a dent in their presence. So, after that all fizzled out, my friend Johan and I decided to spend the night in Bil'in, just in case the IOF decides to come in arrest people, as they have been doing for the last year. Lucky for us, two other activists had offered to stay in the 'outpost' beyond the wall, so we were able to remain far more comfortable and warm in the apartment in the village.
But, 2 nights later, we got the shit end of the stick and were out in the shack with some men from the village. Actually, it was a great night, as the area has been improved vastly since my first night there in December. The fire was roaring, food was there, the nargilah was bubbling away; a Palestinian campfire, complete with very loud political discussions in Arabic that I didn't mind not understanding.
There was also a settler or two that was hanging out there. which confused one of the more recent ISMers that I was there with. On the first night, it was Yossi from Kiryat Sefer that joined the popular committee of Bil'in and myself for some talk & hanging out by the fire. Yes, an ultra-orthodox settler, who speaks excellent Arabic, joining the political leadership of Bil'in on one of their most creative protests to date (check palsolidarity.org for more Bil'in details). I think that they know each other from before the intifada, but regardless, back then Yossi helped bring them a generator, a nargilah, food, etc; it was really something to see. Now, there were many a discussion, both nights, between the settlers & the lefty activist Jews & the Palestinians of Bil'in, most of which I can't say I understood (it does help here to be trilingual) but all I can say is that the more time I spend here & places I go & people I meet, the harder it is to lump any people into any one category. You just have to take it all as it comes & always be open to being surprised, which usually happens on a daily basis.
So, we left that morning quite early so that we could get to a seminar in West Jerusalem. It was given by PCATI, the Public Committee Against Torture in Israel, which became a wellspring of silly torture-related jokes for the rest of the day. SO, at 6:30 AM we trudged our way across the land of Bil'in, across the wall site, and back to the village where Abdullah of the Popular Committee gave us a ride to Ramallah ( Our shoes and pants, however were caked in the mud of Bil'in, which I would leave as a gift at every stop for the rest of the day). From there, we crossed the checkpoint at Qalandia, and made it to Jerusalem with time to spare.
All this time, mind you, I am working to accomplish what few ever do here in Palestine/Israel; to do many errands, and get them done exactly when I plan on getting them done without fail. Not only did I feel confident enough that we could stay in Bil'in and then get to Jerusalem in time to then get to the seminar. No, I had more plans than that! After the seminar, I was determined to go to the post office & mail a whole bunch of embroidery to soem friends in the USA, as well as some items of mine, clothes, pictures, etc. Then, to proceed up Jaffa street and to the photo store where I could return the camera battery I had bought & maybe get one that works (I had the camera with me). Then, get to the bus station & get to Tel Aviv, where I would spend the night at the apartment of an Israeli anarchist activist (and call him before I leave Jerusalem to see if I can stay with him; small detail, of course!). In Tel Aviv, I would proceed to the Ministry of the Interior and get my visa extended, for a month if I'm lucky, and then while in Tel Aviv, if I have time, see King Kong & get back either to Tel Rumeida or Ramallah, in time for the next Bil'in demo.
No Problem, right?
Well, we met up with the rest of the torture-seminar attendees at the Damascus Gate at 9:30, and before we knew it, we were loaded into vans and heading for some obscure neighborhood in West Jerusalem, which turned out to be quite near the Yad Vashem. And then, the torture began! All 20 some odd of us were in a very small room that got really hot really quick, and talked the rest of the day about, well, torture; the legal system that supports it, the work that the center does to oppose and highlight it & the various organizations that deal with related subjects. All in all, it was really a good day, and most of all I was happy to meet one of the many 'respectful' organizations in Israel that deal with the abuses of the Occupation; there is the ICAHD, PCATI, Btselem, HAMOKED, and the list goes on. Although the work that I have been doing with ISM has been and is very important, we would be nowhere without the work that these organizations do, I reccomend googling all these groups & more. I'm just glad I stayed awake for most of it, I didn't sleep more than 5 hours at the shed the night before; yes, sleep deprivation... nevermind!
So, eventually the torture ended, and we all left. I was able to negotiate being dropped off near the Post Office on Jaffa Street, so that I could rid myself of the bags of embroidery and other items that I was clumsily lugging around all day. At the post office is one of many very poorly manned security 'checkpoints' that just about every Israeli building is endowed with. So, I put my bags of clothes and my backpack on the table, walk through the metal detector, and then open the backpack for what I expect will be a thorough search. Instead, the man looks at the bag, which is very full, and then asks me for my passport instead. I asked him, "are you saying that I need to show you my passport just to go to the post office?" I mean, this guy is not immigration or border police, he's just one of the so many shittly paid under-trained dudes working as security guards at places where most of them can't afford to shop or eat. He responds "well, you bag is hard to search." As I hand him my passport, I think to myself, what did he just say? That because my bag is hard to check, he'll just look at my passport? What in god's name does that prove? I just hope that everyone else on line feels a false sense of security, cause i sure as hell don't.
So, I'm in the post office, and soon enough, I am assembling 3 boxes full of good stuff to be shipped to the USA. And, yes, my first errand is done! I leave the post office, walk further into West Jerusalem on Jaffa street, and complete the second errand, which is to return a battery for the new video camera that has been bought for ISM. And can you believe it, that works out flawlessly! Although I do not find the correct one, I get my money back and continue down the road towards the bus station, where I stumble upon another store that ends up having just the battery I need (and it lasts long, like 5-6 hours i think!). So, pushing my luck, I proceed to the bus station and call Jonothan to see if I can crash at his place in Jaffa, and lo and behold, success!!! I'm glad not only so I can be in Jaffa, but because the last time i was in Jaffa I stayed at an Israeli hostel and it was a little weird. I mean here I am in Jaffa, one of many Palestinian cities that were ethnically cleansed in 1948, and since then swallowed up by the newly built Tel Aviv, and this hostel doesn't even have Palestine written anywhere. All the maps fail to display the green line, just one big land of Israel, nothing more and nothing less. I guess I've stayed at hostels in East Jerusalem too much, where Palestine and various political issues are displayed quite prominetly; those btselem reports are just strewn everywhere, I tell you!
So, into the station (through the back, the security line in the front is a zoo, and there are SO many soldiers) and onto the 405 bus to Tel Aviv. I am sitting next to yet another grumpy looking mal-adjusted Israeli dude, but no matter, in about an hour I am there. Now the central bus station is really confusing, but this time around I find the right bus to get to Jaffa & meet Jonothan at the clock tower. I throw out the bottle of Leban I am drinking (buttermilk) because he is a pretty serious vegan, and after hanging out for a bit I have a great vegan meal with him and his girlfriend Eva. The apartment is really amazing, and like many of the older buildings there in a state of falling apart. Jaffa, which was once the Bride of The Mediterranean and a bustling port, has now been relegated to the status of ghetto, and the crumbling old buildings of that era are quickly being replaced by gentrifying crap. so it goes.
The next morning I head to the ministry of the interior, getting up yet again far earlier than I would choose, and leaving most of my stuff at their apartment. As I thought, and Jonothan confirmed, I would have my backpack so thoroughly searched, that it made sense to leave it there. But, that also made my departure more difficult, as I wanted to leave straight from the ministry and maybe spend two days in Tel Rumeida before going to the big demo in Bil'in. Oh well, off I go, taking a taxi and spending money far too quickly, and I end up at the brand new shiny building that houses the ministry of the interior and many other government offices, like for example some department of gun permits. I arrive at the office and slowly weave my way around the needed forms & find the correct beaurocrat to bother, which turns out to be a very pale looking middle aged man with bright, almost white gray hair. He is, from the start a very official and unfriendly, yet in a strange way helpful guy that has been dealing in files, forms, staples and stickers for a long time it seems. Crowding around his window, aside from myself, are a very interesting cast of characters. There is the Danish guy that seems to be married to an Israeli and is trying to get his papers and permissions and visas dealt with; there is a the Russian guy that is getting his work permit approved, extended, or who knows, maybe he is going to become a citizen; there is a woman that may very well be a Russian prostitute (she certainly was dressing the part), and then the orthodox Jewish-American wife of a Yeshiva student, complete with her whig, an American English accent to her Hebrew, and the first of what will be probably a few more kids.
Then there was me. I gave him my forms, some money, ran downstairs and back with some passport photos, and read while my papers were being processed. As I sat, I thought of my ISMer friends that had been recently denied their visa extension. They had been arrested already, and though the charges were dropped, they still got in the system and the Shin Bet had marked them for no visa. So, I was called to the window, and the man asked me the first of two questions. Since the form had had a place for my religion, I figured that now was the time to play the Jew card, to use my privilege so that I can do more solidarity work with the Palestinians. So he asks me "Do you have any proof with you that you are Jewish?" Now, an hour later and onwards I thought of every great response to such a crazy question (most having to do with dropping my pants), but all I could manage at the time was "uh, No." Then, he asks me about my plans to stay, and on the form I had stated that I wanted to spend more time with my friends and family, period. So, he asks me, who are your family here in Israel, where do they live? I respond that I have one cousin that lives in Kibbutz Mizra... he cuts me off at that point with a knowing nod, saying " Ahh, Mizra" and looks down again and continues his cutting, peeling and pasting. At that point he also asks me, so you only need one month, to which I say yes, and then goes to sticking the new visa onto my passport. I ask him, do you think you could stick it to the paper that has my old visa, to which I get the curt response of "No, this way, or not!" So, I give in, he sticks it in, and then asks me "So, you want to visit an Arab country?" In that moment, it is as if I am transported to Zaatara checkpoint, where a 20 something year old punk-ass soldier asks me "what is so special about Nablus?" Yes, I guess outside all those safe White Western Modern countries, there is nothing worth seeing or doing, and certainly no people worth knowing.
As I took my passport, I thought to myself, yes, I am going to visit an Arab country, and it is called Palestine.
So, in a daze and completly surprised that I have gotten my visa extended with very few snags in my plan, I start to walk down the street. Not knowing what to do next, and seeing that it is 10:00 AM, I cross the street to the Asreli center, which contains a big old shopping mall. I walk into this mall, and I am instantly somewhere between Israel and the USA; I mean, I am in a mall, but it's Israel, not Route 17 in New Jersey, and I am surrounded by soldiers in uniform with their rifles slung around their shoulders. I sit down at a coffee shop, where I have coffee & some food and just watch what's around me, feeling really out of place and uncomfortable. The table across from me has two police women, next to me a couple russian women speaking russian, and in the other direction a lot of fashionably dressed young Israeli girls with credit cards in hand. But, the mall does have something I want, which is King Kong! As a person who loved Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings trilogy, I really wanted to see this one, so after coffee and people watching, I went to see all 3 hours of it at the 11:30 showing.
As I really need to finish this tale, I will skip my feelings on the film, after which I emerged from the theater... to the goddamn shopping mall!!! It had been long enough in that movie that I had almost forgotten where I was, and so all that wierdness of the Israeli shopping mall scene came rushing back, and there was no solution but getting the heck out! I then walked from there to dizzengoff center, but it dawned on me by then, after looking at my visa a few times, that I had been given 2 more months, not just one. This I didn't expect, and really couldn't process at all. I mean, I would like to stay longer, the work that I am doing is really important, but I really miss my girlfriend, my friends, my life back in the USA. I also am starting to see how addictive the work we do here can be; as a friend who left said in an email, he misses the action, the intensity. It is pretty unique, much more intense than the usual 9-5 reality at home, that's for sure. So, it kind of evokes a mild panic in me, one which starts to grow as I keep walking.
After trying to find cheap mini dv tapes at the dizengoff center, I flee from yet another mall, and really start to feel the panic, almost like a mild claustrophobia. I think; I need to get to the sea, just get to the ocean and you will feel better. The way Tel Aviv is built, I know the ocean is near, but I just can't get there, I keep getting shunted off to these streets that should get me closer, but to no avail. Finally though, I emerge from the confusion of poor city planning and large crappy buildings to arrive at the sea. And you know, it really did help, walking down the beach, I was able to relax and calm down after a crazy day or two. I thought at that point of many things. I thought of my ridiculous amount of walking, in jerusalem and tel aviv, and that I am probably avoiding buses for the obvious reason of suicide bombings. I'm not sure what to say about that, but there have been many times that I have taken buses, but I do like walking, and try and do some whenever I get the chance. But, I think that the more time you spend in either community, the more you tend to ignore, downplay or rationalize the suffering of others. Israelis may know a few general things about the occupation, but not much really. And when you are in Ramallah or Hebron most of the time, suicide bombings become less than real, and nothing when compared to the weight and oppresion of the occupation that you see and feel every day. In the end, one must keep in mind that along with the political realities, there are the personal, subjective realities, and one person's anxiety when taking buses shouldn't be ignored, especially when it is your own.
After being healed by the sea, at least for now, I arrive in Jaffa and get my things packed & finally eat something (the most expensive shwarma sandwich yet!) which I had not gotten around to all day. Being about 4 or 5 PM, it was kind of necessary, both mentally and physically. I get on a bus to the station, overhearing the mixed english-hebrew conversation of a bunch of American & Israeli Jewish young people, and make my way to the 405 bus back to Jerusalem. With my return delayed by the days events, I decide to put off Tel Rumeida and go to Jerusalem and then to the Bil'in demo.
And soon enough, I am at the hostel by the Damascus Gate and back across the green line. It never ceases to amaze me how many realities this place contains, both within each side of the line and between it (read Joe Sacco's book Palestine & you'll find out what I mean). It also amazes me how many and how few of those worlds and communities interact and intersect; if you want, you can live in your chosen bubble in Israel and forget the occupation or anything else unpleasant. And those under the weight of that occupation are being cleaved off and compressed into smaller and smaller isolated pockets; isolated from each other, and isolated from the world.
After that night and the next day in Jerusalem, I returned to Ramallah and got ready for the next demo. That day, a suicide bombing was done in Tel Aviv.
But I was across the green line; but was I safe... inshallah, inshallah.
posted by Jontheantizionistjew at 7:11 AM
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