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The framed portrait of Che Guevara and the vintage Visit Palestine travel poster on the living room wall hint at Vicki’s political leanings. But she’s no armchair liberal, pontificating on people and places a world away. She talks of her “Palestinian terrorist lover” with a laugh and a smile, and whether she speaks of the person or the people, she does so from her heart - as you’ll read in her contribution to Your Voice Here.
Blues for Allah
Jerusalem is bittersweet. One moment you can be sitting on your terrace, lost in the ancient hills surrounding the city, and the next you’re reminded of exactly where you are and what the political situation is here. A police van pulls up on this quiet, residential street. Three heavily armed IDF (Israeli Defense Force) soldiers emerge from the van to patrol this peaceful neighborhood. Children are walking home from school. This is not security – this is intimidation of the cruelest sort – the kind that people don’t question – just accept as a normal part of the daily routine.
If you turn to the right in this area, the road leads you to the Old City of Jerusalem, the City of Peace. If you turn to the left, you will quickly run into the Wall, topped by an electrified fence. This neighborhood has been cut in half. If you are lucky enough to be in the right half, you have access to Jerusalem. If you are not so lucky, you are walled in and must travel over an hour to a checkpoint where you can get out. Maybe.
Move outside of the city, and again, you forget where you are. Driving north on the road to Tiberius, four of us packed into a small car, listening to the Grateful Dead – Blues for Allah
Contradictions. Always contradictions. Palestinians and Israelis live in the same city, but are separate in every way. Jimmy Carter was right – apartheid is alive and well in Jerusalem, and throughout this country. Palestinians supposedly have a government in Ramallah, but it’s not recognized in any way nor does it have any power to rule its constituency. No power to issue passports, travel documents, currency, laws or anything a government is typically empowered to do for its people. Palestinians ride on separate buses – no mingling allowed here. Separate and not equal in every way. Blues for Allah.
Sitting in Jerusalem drinking coffee with a friend who is a cameraman for French Television One, supplies more information about last summer’s conflict with Hezbollah and the Israelis. I’m not sure what it all means. After weeks of bombing Lebanon, the IDF began their ground assault on Hezbollah into Lebanon. My friend and a cameraman from Reuters moved into Lebanon with an army unit. Young kids – much like our own in Iraq – with no real desire to fight. One kilometer into Lebanon and Hezbollah began firing on the Israeli unit. They turned and ran back across the border, abandoning their position and their tanks. The IDF quickly learned what the US is learning about Iraq. You may win the air battles, but you’ll be quickly bogged down on the ground. Several high ranking Israeli Army officers were replaced after the summer’s conflict due to their inability to eradicate or even neutralize the Hezbollah forces.
On another day, we decide to drive to the Golan Heights. The Golan used to be a part of Lebanon and Syria prior to the 1967 War. Most peace proposals have called for the Golan to be returned to Syria, but from the looks of things, it’s not likely to happen anytime soon. This area is inhabited by a tribe known as the Druze. The Druze are a Semitic people whose origins lie mainly in Lebanon and Syria, and a smaller number of them live in what is now Israel. They are not Muslims – or Christians, or Jews. During the ’67 War, their schools and public buildings were destroyed – most of which have still not been replaced.
Stopping for falafel, we talk to the shop owner, who has a sign in the window offering his business for sale. When asked why, he explains that the tax he pays makes it not worth running his business. Taxes paid to the Israeli government, from which he receives little or no services. We stop for freshly baked lavosh at another place and the man whose wife makes the fresh bread for us, explains that after the War, the Israeli soldiers moved into this area and forced Israeli identity cards on the population here – a population which for hundreds of years identified itself with either Syria or Lebanon. Retribution against the populace was heavy when they all gathered at the town square to burn their new Israeli identity cards. Some were killed and many ended up in prison. Economic sanctions imposed by the government have kept these villages impoverished. Blues for Allah.
Today is Yom Ha’atzmaut – Israeli Independence Day – commemorating the 1948 declaration of the Jewish State of Israel and the end of the British Mandate of Palestine. Half of the country is celebrating with concerts and barbecues, the other half is mourning the loss of their country. The flag of Israel is flying everywhere, while the flag of Palestine is banned. Blues for Allah.
We travel to Ramallah, which is ringed by two “security walls”. It looks like a prison, or some sort of internment camp. As you enter into the “security zone,” the Israeli tanks are parked outside of the walls like prehistoric behemoths. As we wait in line at the checkpoint to be cleared for entry into the city, we take pictures and are immediately questioned by the IDF soldiers at the gate. Apparently, Israel would prefer that these scenes not be immortalized in pictures.
While Ramallah is ostensibly the seat of the Palestinian government – the government has no real power or authority to govern its land or its people. After Yasar Arafat’s death, even more power was acceded to the Israeli government and the walls were built. If you live in Ramallah, you must have special permission to leave the city. When you do leave, once you arrive at the checkpoint, any passengers in your car must get out and walk on foot through the checkpoint, be fingerprinted and searched. Most of the passengers are women and children. Blues for Allah.
Driving around Jerusalem, picking up supplies for a barbecue at the Dead Sea, we see where the new wall is about to be erected. Soon, the area of Jerusalem known as Beit Hanina will be walled in, making it a part of the West Bank. This area is full of middle-class residences and small shops – the butchers, the bakers and the like. The overall plan seems to be to totally isolate all of the Palestinian population of Jerusalem into the West Bank. It’s hard to describe the impact of such a plan. Think of it as if Manhattan or San Francisco had a wall built around it and residents of those areas needed special permission to travel outside its borders. At any time their water supplies could be shut off, the power interrupted, food and other vital supplies stopped at the checkpoint. The logic of it all just baffles one. It’s as if the Israeli government has determined that 50% of its population are undesirables and/or terrorists. Blues for Allah.
Tourist buses head down our quiet street. They are going to see the Wall. At first, I thought they were going to witness the atrocity of it all, but when I walked down to see what was happening, they were busloads of Israelis who were coming to see that the wall was secure, and they were getting their money’s worth. Making sure the Wall is keeping the Palestinians out. Blues for Allah.
The night before leaving Jerusalem, I meet the coordinator for the Israeli Committee Against the Destruction of Homes. She’s a Jewish convert from Mexican Catholic parents, who feels her mission is to help end the occupation of Palestine. While admiring her efforts, it all seems so futile. Ten thousand more homes are slated for demolition. The residents of these homes are given little or no warning, and are sometimes awakened in the middle of the night, removed from their homes and driven to the West Bank and dropped there. Bethlehem – the birthplace of Christ – is now a refugee camp with 80% unemployment. My friend from Australia spent the day there with the children she is sponsoring through World Vision. She spent the night crying. The plot is already hatched, the game is in play, and the world is unaware. Blues for Allah.
Leaving Jerusalem is hard. It’s a love/hate relationship with this city and the country. It’s impossible not to love the Palestinian people, and the beauty of the country – especially Jerusalem. You admire the struggle and hate the injustice Palestinians face on a daily basis. You feel confused and angry at the Israeli population who have devised this cruel plan. You especially hate the irony of this insidious campaign to isolate and decimate the Palestinian population coming from a people who suffered in the Warsaw ghetto and were murdered in the concentration camps. Don’t they see the similarity?
You wonder if there will ever be a solution that offers real dignity and freedom to the Palestinians. When I asked one of my friends this question, he said he asked the same of his grandfather. The grandfather replied, “When there is freedom in America, freedom in England, freedom in the Middle East, then it will be the Palestinians’ turn.”
Blues for Allah, Inshallah.
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