I visited the Knesset, Israel's legislature, on Thursday and was quite struck by what I saw. I knew that Israel is a Jewish state, but the meaning of that really didn't hit me until I saw its most powerful force for my own eyes. The entire building has been inundated with Jewish symbols and scripture and art work, even the way the seats of the Knesset members are arranged are in the shape of a menorah. Our tour guide assured us that the system was fully democratic and that all citizens could attend, observe and sometimes participate in the Knesset process. But all I could think was - are Palestinians allowed here? Can they participate? Can they even vote for the people who are ruling over them? And how exactly is a one state solution even possible when the amalgamation of these two cultures would leave almost half of the population ostracized by the religious affiliation of its own government? I know the answers to these questions, but their relevancy struck me as though I had never even considered them before.
At the Knesset I met a young German woman who had been volunteering at a German guest house for a few months and is leaving next week. She and I chatted throughout the tour (and noted several times that we felt as though we were in an art galley, as a significant portion of the tour consisted of looking at artwork done by Marc Chagall), and afterwards she invited me for coffee with some of her friends who were also volunteering at German guest houses around the city. We went to a beautiful guest house in the old city near Damascus gate where we met with four of her friends, all from Germany. I asked them how they were treated being German in Israel, and surprisingly very few have had any negative encounters. But what interested me the most was when they explained to me that in Germany, many people are afraid to be proud of being German, as if this pride somehow insinuates that they agree with the Holocaust. They said outside of Germany most people bear their German nationality proudly, but in Germany people hardly even fly German flags. It has become part of their national psyche to be self-critical as a country and to be very careful in what they believe and do. Some of the people I was with seemed to think that this notion was changing through the newer generations, but there was a clear consensus that it is omnipresent in today's Germany.
For the past few days I've been staying in Jaffa with Elias at the Sadaka Reut commune where he stays. Here I met a fascinating young woman who stays here sometimes because her home with her family is in Ariel, a settlement close to Tel-Aviv in the West Bank. It is one of the larger settlements and consists mostly of Russian immigrants. Her family is originally from Russia, and used to live in Israel proper until approximately a year ago when it became too expensive for them to continue to live where they were living. They were faced with the options of either moving to a small, crowded, inner-city location or moving to a bright, spacious, new house in a settlement - each costing the same amount. Wanting her younger sister to have safe and positive surroundings (as this woman was just about to graduate high school), they chose the settlement. She realizes how terrible settlements are, but knows that her parents don't see it in the same light as she does. Having educated herself about settlements and in interacting with local Palestinians, she has broken what she describes at the settlement "bubble" which most settlers never escape - they simply drive on their Israeli-only roads to and from Jerusalem or Tel-Aviv to their daily jobs and don't see what is happening around them. It's really exciting to see a small glimmer of hope in these communities that can hopefully share their ideas with others.
I will be leaving Israel tomorrow to head to Jordan, where I will begin the more touristy part of my trip (although I believe I said this when I entered Israel, and that clearly didn't happen!). I will continue to blog as I go, but probably more infrequently. I am sad to leave here as I have learned so much and feel that there is so much more to understand. What I have realized in this conflict, though, is that whenever I learn something new, there is always exponentially more that I must then comprehend. This conflict is incredibly complicated and yet simply black and white. I leave this country feeling frustrated in that I still don't know exactly what can be done to solve the problem, and yet with hope that I believe that peace will prevail.
Day 42 - July 1, 2009
The last few days have been spent wandering the West Bank. I spent a few days in Ramallah, the capital of the Palestinian Authority, where I journeyed around the streets and spent some time in quaint little shops. I ate enough pita, hummus and babaganoush to last a lifetime, and then ate some more. I discovered yellow soybeans which are sold in abundance at carts on the side of the road sprinkled with salt and lemon juice – needless to say, I also devoured these. I’m learning to tolerate the leering and comments made by some men as I pass by with my “blonde” hair (all hair here that is not black is blonde), although it still gets on my nerves.
I recently learned of rumors of the IDF targeting French nationals in the West Bank – apparently a French diplomat, with diplomatic license plates, was dragged from her car and beaten at the side of the road. We are assuming that this targeting has to do with Sarkozy telling Netanyahu that he must get rid of Lieberman, but we can’t be sure. Apparently the woman documented the injuries but was told by the French government not to say anything so as to not rock already unstable relations with Israel.
On Tuesday I spent the night in Nablus with a friend who is volunteering with Project Hope teaching English. I walked in the old city market - similar to Jerusalem’s old city but I was the clearly the only tourist present – and the next day ate the famous knafa that is Nablus’s pride. The posters or martyrs, as in Jenin, were omnipresent, and when I asked a local whether or not they were all suicide bombers or had been killed in other ways I was promptly informed of two facts: first, they were all killed in different ways throughout the second Intifada, and second, they are not referred to as suicide bombers, but only martyrs. I thought this last point spoke volumes as to the mentality of many Palestinians towards their struggle for freedom.
On my way back to Jerusalem from Nablus I had to go through three major checkpoints. At the first, we had been waiting in line for about five minutes when the man at the front of the line was pulled from his car and violently shoved persistently across the road and into an army outpost only to disappear, with the soldier returning a few minutes later. His car was left on the road, so everyone in the long line had to back up and move around it. Arriving at the second checkpoint consisted of staring down the barrel of a rifle held by one soldier while another interrogated everyone as to where they were going and where they were from. There were numerous soldiers on each side of the car, as if they were expecting us to flee the car and become violent. The third checkpoint, from Ramallah to Jerusalem, required all the passengers from the bus to get out at walk through the checkpoint (as we were passing through the apartheid wall), put our items through an x-ray machine, show our permits, and then find another bus on the other side. The turnstyles are similar to those in Bethlehem in that they are very small and stop randomly – I was the lucky one who was unexpectedly stopped and ran into the metal bars. In Bethlehem it was sufficient to simply show the front of my passport as an international, but here when I tried to do that the young female soldier harshly yelled from the other side of the window through a microphone “Open it.” It took every ounce of strength in me not to look her in the eyes and say: “Please?” but I opened it to my picture, not knowing what she wanted. This apparently was not good enough as I received another instruction of “Visa!” So I showed her my visa and was waved off. Now back to Jerusalem where one can escape the tirade of the occupation and live a normal, Western life.
A final note - I recently received a link by email to a video that I think is imperative for everyone to watch. While an uncommon situation, it is still an example of the atrocities taking place in Gaza.
I recently learned of rumors of the IDF targeting French nationals in the West Bank – apparently a French diplomat, with diplomatic license plates, was dragged from her car and beaten at the side of the road. We are assuming that this targeting has to do with Sarkozy telling Netanyahu that he must get rid of Lieberman, but we can’t be sure. Apparently the woman documented the injuries but was told by the French government not to say anything so as to not rock already unstable relations with Israel.
On Tuesday I spent the night in Nablus with a friend who is volunteering with Project Hope teaching English. I walked in the old city market - similar to Jerusalem’s old city but I was the clearly the only tourist present – and the next day ate the famous knafa that is Nablus’s pride. The posters or martyrs, as in Jenin, were omnipresent, and when I asked a local whether or not they were all suicide bombers or had been killed in other ways I was promptly informed of two facts: first, they were all killed in different ways throughout the second Intifada, and second, they are not referred to as suicide bombers, but only martyrs. I thought this last point spoke volumes as to the mentality of many Palestinians towards their struggle for freedom.
On my way back to Jerusalem from Nablus I had to go through three major checkpoints. At the first, we had been waiting in line for about five minutes when the man at the front of the line was pulled from his car and violently shoved persistently across the road and into an army outpost only to disappear, with the soldier returning a few minutes later. His car was left on the road, so everyone in the long line had to back up and move around it. Arriving at the second checkpoint consisted of staring down the barrel of a rifle held by one soldier while another interrogated everyone as to where they were going and where they were from. There were numerous soldiers on each side of the car, as if they were expecting us to flee the car and become violent. The third checkpoint, from Ramallah to Jerusalem, required all the passengers from the bus to get out at walk through the checkpoint (as we were passing through the apartheid wall), put our items through an x-ray machine, show our permits, and then find another bus on the other side. The turnstyles are similar to those in Bethlehem in that they are very small and stop randomly – I was the lucky one who was unexpectedly stopped and ran into the metal bars. In Bethlehem it was sufficient to simply show the front of my passport as an international, but here when I tried to do that the young female soldier harshly yelled from the other side of the window through a microphone “Open it.” It took every ounce of strength in me not to look her in the eyes and say: “Please?” but I opened it to my picture, not knowing what she wanted. This apparently was not good enough as I received another instruction of “Visa!” So I showed her my visa and was waved off. Now back to Jerusalem where one can escape the tirade of the occupation and live a normal, Western life.
A final note - I recently received a link by email to a video that I think is imperative for everyone to watch. While an uncommon situation, it is still an example of the atrocities taking place in Gaza.
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