Week Three Review

Considering I'm writing this while many of your are probably asleep, most of you would probably miss the fact, if I did not tell you, that there are two new posts before this one. Even if your weekend was boring - probably because there were no Canucks games - you can now live vicariously in Palestine.

The first point I need to make this week is one that I probably should have made a little while ago. I need to make this point because I do not really know who is reading this. I am assuming that it is mostly my friends and family but there might be a few others. Basically I just want to outline that I don't really have any idea about anything. Also, I often joke about a lot of things. At least once, my written sarcasm has been greatly misunderstood *cough* Conflict and Development from an Indigenous Perspective *cough* even though I thought it was fairly obvious. I've also seriously offended someone in this blog before; an event which I deeply regret. I'm saying this because I am in a situation that is highly charged with feelings and I plan to talk about what I see. Now because I am living with Palestinians, most of the stories or information I safe will probably be with a Palestinian bias, but the people who know me know that I try to hold out my judgement for as long as possible. (I don't necessarily see that as a good character trait). If you disagree with anything I say in here then please tell me and provide some information that I can look up that supports your argument. I highly doubt that I will get called anti-semitic - I love my two half-Jewish friends very much - but it seems that many conversations about Israel/Palestine can degrade to the level of name calling very quickly.

In more important news, it turns out that all of the Canucks games start at 3am here. I'm planning on staying up for the Friday night one, so save a spot in spirit for me.

This last week, the directors daughter has come back. She has been studying in the US for the last three years. Considering how much time I spend with her father, it is good to have someone around my age with flawless English. When I told her that I brought Dutch Blitz, she said that we would have to play a game sometime.

I've made a new 12 year old friend. His name is George and we played board games Thursday evening. We later played tag after the Baptism and then even danced a little at the reception afterwards. He tried to drag me back when I told him I was leaving. This is good. In my three step plan to Middle East infiltration, the kids are the first step.

I've started taking Arabic lessons. I have had two already. The easy part about the beginning of Arabic is that they do not have a word for "to be" in the present tense. In English, a basic sentence would be directly translated "I in Bethlehem." It makes conjugation simple. The hard part is the pronunciation. Not only are many of the sounds very difficult for me to make, but if I am different by a slight bit it is a completely different word. Many times people have honestly no idea what I am saying and then when I say it in English they pronounce the exact same word back to me.

I've talked about prices before but this one might interest a few people. Gas here is 7.1 shekels per liter. By today's exchange rate of 1 CAD = 3.53069 ILS, gas is $2.01 per liter.

In future news, there is a group of American students who are going to be coming to Wi'am to help run the summer program. They arrive sometime in June and they are here for two months. They are also from Conrad Grabel University Collage, which means there is a good chance that they are Mennonite. In fact, I know two of the guys that are coming. I met them during my trip to New York last year. It's actually quite funny because at the time I was trying to figure out my practicum and one of them suggested that I go to Palestine with them. I forgot about that until I heard the names if the people who are coming.

Solomon's Pools

On Sunday I went with a German couple to see a few things around Bethlehem. This is a couple that I have been doing a few things with recently and will probably do a few things in the future. The women is working at Wi'am right now through the partnership with KURVE and the husband is writing his thesis (I'm not sure if it's Masters or PhD) in psychology. He is doing his research in the refugee camps around Bethlehem.

When they asked if I was interested in going, I said sure without knowing any details. I figured that the Germans could plan a trip well enough. When I met them in Manger Square, they each had a guidebook ready. They told me that we were first going to go to Solomon's Pools. To get there, we took a Dheisheh Camp bus. It cost two shekels, compared to the 15 to 20 a taxi would have cost.

This bus had a lot of character

Upon arriving at Solomon's Pools, it wasn't quite what I expected. I was thinking a tourist attraction, but it's more of a poorly maintained archeological site. There are three pools in total, but they have been empty for quite a while. There was also a fence in the way that prevented good photos.

That was until I got to the third pool. At the third pool there was a number of men who were working in the pool. I'm not quite sure what they were doing, but it seemed that they were cleaning out the bottom of the pool. They had a section of the fence cut down so I was able to get much better photos. 

There was about 15 men in total

After the pools, we decided to talk along the road to a nearby village. We heard that there were going to be Roman ruins in the village, but we didn't see them.

The surrounding countryside 

Local kids

We did find something we did not expect though. In the village was a massive church or monastery. I never found out what it was but it was very beautiful. There was security at the entrance and we were told that we could not go in, but as we were trying to figure out where to go next, the security guard camp back to us and told us we could go in. I'm not sure exactly what was going on, but there were a few Argentinian flags on the cars there and I think there were a few dignitaries there. 

While we were there a service started but we decided to leave before it got too late. We caught a shared taxi for the ride home. When we got back in Bethlehem, we thought about trying to go somewhere else, but instead decided to round out our day with some Kanafi. 

Kanafi is a desert of goat cheese, shredded wheat, nuts and honey

Baptism and Dancing

On Saturday I was invited to a Roman Catholic baptism. It was a great event. The whole family was out and everyone was dressed nicely. Everyone except me that is, because I forgot my pin-striped shorts. NB: buy a tie. My favourite part was the little boy, who was probably between one and two, wearing a three piece white suit. His parents even managed to keep it white the entire time too. You could tell this was an important event, because the mother had what I would call wedding hair and makeup. She also had a very nice dress on and later had a completely different very nice dress.

I'm not sure if the baptism was done in Arabic or in Latin, either way I didn't understand much. I was surprised with how calm the child was with getting water poured on his head. The whole thing took just over an hour.

On my way home I stopped by the store across the street to buy a glass bottle of coke, some rice and "noodle balls." The local kids were laughing at me, but I'm not sure if it was because of the noodle balls.

At 8pm I was told that we were going to have dinner. I knew it was part of the baptism but I did not realised it would be such a celebration. When I got there it was pretty close to my idea of a wedding reception. Eventually about 80 people showed up. They also had a three piece band.

I sat with the aunts, who I also arrived with. Being an avid family gathering attender since 1989, I know that when you are sitting with the aunts it's best to go on the offensive, less they start asking questions about girlfriends and life direction. So I pulled out my most refined weapon, from years of practice as a Mennonite. I asked how everyone was related to each other. Well, they loved me after that. Even calling me a "polite boy," but they said that one in Arabic first, so they might just have been talking about my stained shirt.

Our appetizer was pita and an assortment of dips - mostly humus - and salads. The waiter walked by with glasses of vodka and ice, I took a round with the ladies. I honestly thought that it was water, because seriously, who walks around with 25 glasses of vodka. If there is one thing I am learning, celebrating is a big deal here. Vodka is not exactly my favourite drink and it didn't go down great. Since there were no churches near by, that was my last drink of the night.

It must have been enough vodka though, because I soon found myself dancing and making a fool of myself like usual. Suddenly and without warning I also found myself in the middle of a circle of people being egged on. Fearing the effects of culture shock, I decided to stray away from my goto move The Butter Churn and instead just sort of wiggled around. I stopped before someone went and got my Epi-pen.

Still on the dancing note, I must say that the generational difference was massive. Most of the people over 40 danced worse than my parents - sorry, but it's true - while almost everyone under 30 was amazing. It was probably some of the best nonprofessional dancing I have ever scene. Even the guys seemed like they had their hips attached by hinges. They tried to teach me a few moves and lyrics, to which they just laughed at me but I did learn the secret. If you can't actually move your hips face enough, you grab the back of your pants and shake them. That's how they make those music videos!

The main course was served at 10:30pm, with three different cakes at 11. The whole evening was covered by the family. The baptised baby feel asleep in his mothers arms. She was dancing with him, her husband and their two daughters when I left.

Parallel states: A new vision for peace - Opinion - Al Jazeera English

This article contains a basic summary of the desires and blockades of peace in Israel/Palestine. It also has an interesting solution. I suggest you check it out.

Parallel states: A new vision for peace - Opinion - Al Jazeera English

Wi'am

The organization that I am working at is called Wi'am - Palestinian Conflict Resolution Center. You can find out more at http://www.alaslah.org/. It is located in Bethlehem, directly beside the Wall. Here are some pictures to get you acquainted with the place.

Though these pictures show a very beautiful place in and of itself, these pictures cannot show you how Wi'am stands out to the majority of Bethlehem. Because of strict regulations, an influx of refugees and the Wall, Bethlehem is confined to a very small area with too many people. This means that there is very little green space in Bethlehem. I believe that the playground at Wi'am in the only one in Bethlehem, a city of twenty-five thousand. The garden is very close to Zoughbi's heart and is one of his many forms of resisting the occupation. 

Week Two Review (Pt 2)

I forgot a few things last night that I would like to mention...

The traffic in Palestine is crazy, but in a really neat way. Everyone drives standard and there are steep hills everywhere. Many of the streets through the main parts of the city are one way, and for good reason because there is often two to three inches of extra space to fit through many spots. It is common to see vehicles jostle for position, only to have to tuck in their mirrors to get passed parked cars. It all looks very disorganized until you know the rule. If you get there first, you have right of way. This goes for pedestrians too, but only on the smaller streets. Honking doesn't work either, because many people honk to let their friends know they are nearby. It is common to see people shaking hands through rolled down windows. The taxis also honk to let you know they are there, which isn't as bad as it sounds. I remember the South African ones being much more annoying.

The greeting in Palestine is done in two ways. Either a handshake or a semi-hug with a few (2-3) kisses on the cheek. Because I have been following Zoughbi around and he seems to know everyone that we see, I think that I have shook around 150 hands in the last two weeks. Yes, over ten hands per day. The Palestinian handshake is a bit of a strange greeting for my upbringing because it is disarmingly weak. It's sort of like the handshake that you would receive from a Westerner who though they had to be polite, but wanted to make sure you know they don't think you're worth their time. It also doesn't have a set time limit. Mine have ranged from extended high-fives to partial interdigitation.

Finally, I was shown this video by one of my coworkers. I think it's pretty educational.

Week Two Review

The non-essential updates have been cancelled for this last week not because I was busy, but because I was too busy being sick. I think I might have eaten something in Jerusalem but it was the Catholics that paid the price. My body decided to purge itself in one of their churches as I was searching for a bathroom. But alas, that was not the most eventful event this week...

One night I was with Zoughbi as we were leaving Wi'am. Just outside we saw two of his friends and decided to go with them to dinner. We went for coffee first where we met three other men. I didn't meet them all but the one I was sitting beside was a mayor of a nearby town. After coffee we got into another car - a very nice SUV- with two different men and drove off. It was at this point that I felt I was either in trouble or going to have a fun evening. We went to another restaurant - this one very fancy - and sat down as some of the only customers. Everyone was speaking Arabic, so I minded my own business until I heard the one word that's the same in Arabic and English: Tequila. I perked up a bit and one of the men asked if I drank. I said sure. Now I had not quite decided what company I was in, but when the waiter returned with five salted shot glasses, two plates full of lemon slices and dropped a bottle of fine Tequila on the table, I decided it was the type of company I was going to stick to for the evening. Everyone knows that if you are drinking with strange men, you do what they tell you. That's why it didn't really matter that they started to call me "fatty" or that they tried to convince me that if I drank more, I would be able to speak Arabic. Once the first two courses were done, and the Tequila was replaced with Scotch and the main course of breaded shrimp and oysters floated by, I was pretty satisfied with my new friends. I later found out that the meal cost about $300 Canadian. Boy am I one proud Mennonite.

Before I got sick, and when I was in Jerusalem I had a opportunity to go to the Wailing Wall. It was a Saturday afternoon and as I was walking around I peaked into a corner where a group of Jews were praying. I caught the eye of twenty something Jewish man and he motioned me over. He asked where I was from and found out that he was from Canada as well, but that he moved recently to go to a religious school in Jerusalem. When I told him that I was a Christian - I think my disposable Kippa fooled him - he asked if I was here to convert Jews. I thought that he was being sarcastic, and I made a joke. Luckily he had to start chanting again as I realized that I was surrounded by people that didn't have a very good impression of Christians. After the prayer, he introduced me to a few of his friends. They asked to me tell my country (I think they thought I was from America) not to kick them out of their homes. They were referring to Obama's recent speech about making peace based on the 1967 boarders of Israel/Palestine.

Speaking about Obama's speech, it is funny how something I did not really care about less than four days ago is such an issue to everyone in this country. Almost everyone knows the details of the speech and has their own opinion on it. I went to an MCC supported partner meeting and it was one of the main points of discussion. For myself, the most illuminating point is not that everyone sees it as important, but that everyone seems to be disappointed by it.

In other news, the weather is starting to get hot. During my first week it was actually quite cold, with a few days having short spurts of rain. Zoughbi even offered to let me borrow some sweaters from his kids. Since then though, it has all been tee-shirt weather. It is not uncomfortably hot yet, but soon I will be responsible for mowing the lawn and running around with kids. I plan to continue my commitment to walk every morning, but we might see if that lasts once I'm going through three shirts a day.

The final thing that is worth updating for now is the prices. The economy of Palestine is a strange organism, for details that I hope I will highlight in later posts. I have been to coffee shops where tea or juice is 10-15 shekels ($3-5 Canadian) but a large circle of bread and an egg is 3. One place sells Chicken sandwiches (chicken and tomatoes on a grilled bun) for 18 shekels, while another place sells me two flat bread sandwiches (chicken, tomatos, onions, lettuce and a much better sauce) for 14. These prices are not 'white prices' either as I have been with a local for all of my purchases. Though I still have not been paying for the majority of my living costs, I ones I do pay are on par or above Canadian prices.

Week One Review (3 days late)

Almost every morning I walk to work. It takes me about half an hour but I get to go through Nativity Square and the major market. Though I am often approached for food, juice, clothing and taxi rides, no one is particularly pushy. Sometimes people ask me where I am from but I am generally ignored. Near Wi'am there are two Banksy paintings. I only have a picture of one so far though. I plan to add the other one soon.

The mornings at Wi'am start at about 8am. I either attempt to make tea or tea is already ready when I get there. More recently I have eaten breakfast at Wi'am but often the first hour is spent sitting around and chatting. The rest of my morning is usually spent with visitors coming in and gardening. Since I've arrived there have been four trees planted (Zoughbi encourages groups to plant a tree). In the afternoons I have often done research or met with visitors. I wrote a short piece about the Hamas-Fatah reconciliation and I am currently working on a proposal letter for a small support grant.

I think that Wi'am officially closes at 4 or 5pm, but Zoughbi is often involved in mediations during the evening. I have already participated in about five; two of which I didn't realize were mediations until they are over. They have all been in Arabic. I have also joined Zoughbi to visits with friends and family, official city council meetings, church meetings, a wedding, errands, and to pay condolences to a family who's daughter died. I have also had the opportunity to tour the refugee camps and witness a nonviolent protest. I often get home between 9 and 11pm. I have had two evenings that I would classify as free time.

Except for the Honey Nut Cheerios that I have bought for myself, 100% of my meals have had flat bread and humus. Except for two, every lunch has had falafels. Chicken is very common but I have also eaten lamb and beef. In terms of cost, food is even a little bit more expensive that Canada, but so far, I have rarely paid for any meal other than my lunch. Even my lunch is bought and brought for me, all I do is pay.

There are quite a few internationals that have already come through Wi'am. KURVE Wustrow, from Germany, stayed for four days, and a women from that organization will be at Wi'am for the next three years. There have also been three separate groups from England (one was called Amos Trust - I can't remember the name of the other two) and another group from Eastern Mennonite University. I spent an evening with some of the people at EMU and one of the Ph.D students and I had a nice chat about Yodarian theology. He suggested that I check out seminar after I graduate. In the last few days I have also ran into a few Canadians. Two were students from Ottawa. One is good friends with some other people from CMU. I also met a couple who lived in the downtown east-side of Vancouver (by choice). In a week for two, there is supposed to be about 8 or so American students arriving to stay for about a month.  Right now, there is an English lady who will be volunteering for two more weeks.

Today is Nakba

Today is the mock celebration of Nakba. It is a day that remembers the creation of the state of Israel. Yawm an-Nakbah means "day of the catastrophe." It is difficult for me to share what this means, especially for the Palestinian population, so I have provided some pictures.

There are many of these posted on the wall

This is at a refugee camp in Bethlehem. When there homes were
taken or destroyed, many only were able to take their keys.
The key has become a symbol of remembrance and resistance. 

This is a huge mural painted onto the wall. The yellow writing says,
"again how many kidz  in jail before freedom"

The director of Wi'am reading a speech for Nakba

On the left is a list of all the villages that have been destroyed

A nonviolent march

Bethlehem was full of signs and black flags like these

This is what peace looks like

I had a short break today as the Germans and the Palestinians separated into two groups and spoke their respective languages. I used the time to get a few pictures.

KURVE Wustrow

Wi'am Staff

I Live Here

The last few days I have been quite busy. After my first jet lagged day, Tuesday was spent with a group from England that was there for only the day. Wednesday was spent doing research about the recent Hamas and Fatah reconciliation and Thursday was the first day of a three day conference. The conference is together with a German organization called KURVE Wustrow to plan a three year project to promote nonviolence amongst Palestinian youth. Today was again spent in the conference, but I also had a chance to go to a nearby village and see a nonviolent protest.

There will be stories and more detail soon, but until then I will leave you with some pictures of where I am living. It is a one room plus bedroom apartment with a little washing machine right in the kitchen. Even though the balcony is awesome, the door is my favourite part. It's iron and you need to slide the lock; it makes me feel like I live in a castle. 

Safe in Israel

I arrived in Israel at 1am this morning. I am now at Wi'am, the organiziation where I will be volunteering for the next three months. Between that time there were a few minor events.

 

The first was when I tried to get my visa at the passport control. I had an official letter from CMU and the line seemed to be moving very quickly so I was confident. In fact, I was quite surpised with how low the security seemed to be. I remember South Africa being a lot more secure, at least in first impressions. Well, when it was my turn I went to my booth and handed over my passport and letter. The lady read the letter slowly and asked me a few questions. Then she leaned over to the booth beside her and said a few things in Arabic. Next, she got on the phone and said a few more things, again in Arabic. She asked me a few more questions and then a man walks by and she hands him my papers. He tell me to follow him. I get to a room and I'm told to sit down as the man hands my papers to another man in an office. I sit in this room for about a half hour as it slowly fills up with Hispanic people. At this point I am quite surprised with how calm I am but also expecting to hear that I am denied acess to Israel at any moment. I'm called into the small office and sit down. The man is very polite and hospitable (not what I was expecting) and he asks me a number of other questions. Eventually, and with a fair amount of reluctance, he stamps my passport and welcomes me to the country.

 

Next, I go to the baggae area and look for my backpack. A lady behind a desk tell me that it's not there and that they have been paging me for quite a while. She says that my backpack is still in Austria and that I need to provide an address or a phone number so that they can deliver it tomorrow. I tell her that I don't have either of those memorized. Luckily, there is free internet and my comptuer still has a small amount of battery power remaining. I write down a phone number that I have no idea is correct and move on.

 

At this point it is about 2am. I was supposed to meet my taxi driver at 1am. I walk into the main lobby of the airport and I do not see him. I then walk outside and still do not see him. This is important because I have no idea where I am going. I know that I should be going to Bethlehem but I have no idea where in Bethlehem. I walk back into the lobby and finally see a man with a sign that says Joshua Krueger. I introduce myself and he offers me some of his peanuts. I politely decine and we start walking to his cab. At this point, I ask if I am pronouncing his name corrently, to which he responses , "that it's my name." He takes me back to where I met him and introduces me to the actual taxi driver who knows where I am supposed to go.

 

Just outside Bethlehem I went through my first checkpoint. At first I was surprised with how easy it was. All I did was show my passport through the widow (we didn't even roll the window down) and the parking garage style barrier was lifted. This is likely because it was almost 3am at this point though. Once we rolled though that barrier we got to the real checkpoint, which consisted of a soldier with a fully automatic machine gun and the 10 metre high contrete wall. Again, probably because it was late, they immediately opened the massive concrete gate in the wall and let us through.

 

By about 3:30am I was in my bed in Bethlehem. I am staying in a small one room plus bedroom appartment. I have an excellent balcony and view. I will provide pictures soon. I am staying by myself, but I think that most of the neighbours are relatives of the director of Wi'am. I'm sure I will find out very soon.

I'm on a Train OR How to get a free breakfast from Via Rail

I’ve started my journey. Tuesday evening at about 8:30pm I got on a VA Rail train that travels from Vancouver to Toronto. I arrived in Hinton, Alberta just before 7pm on Wednesday to visit my sister. The trip is probably close to what you would imagine it, except more legroom and slower overall speeds. In the end, the trip was very good, except for the crying baby throughout the entire night.

Before I got on the trip, my mom, knowing how stingy I can be with money, made me promise that I will have a meal in the dining car. She was thinking that they might not have that service around for much longer.

Now my plan for the train was to go and find the best looking girl that I could find and then sit across from her. I would make her fall in love with me while slipping in a few missions of Advanced Wars 2 on the side. Turns out that the only seats that face each other are reserved for families and since everyone else was either married or decided that their luggage would be their sitting companion, I did the same. I did pass by what seemed to be a good looking girl, but as I made every excuse to take in the scenery behind me, I realized that she was a bit young. As everyone knows, I only go for fourteen year olds when I’m a “super councillor” or if they’re a prospective student.*

Because of the baby and the abusive sunlight streaming into the train, I woke up at about 6am. I decided to go exploring. I walked past a number of staff, but because they didn’t immediately stop me, I acted as if I knew where I was going. I eventually got to the sleeper cars and decided to turn around. As I came back through the dining car, I was stopped by an elderly gentleman who asked me if I was by myself. I said yes and he seated me with three other people while handing me a menu. I glanced at the menu, saw that there were no prices and asked for some juice. I got the traditional breakfast, which consisted of eggs, bacon, toast and hash browns. It was delicious. The three other people consisted of a Korean couple visiting their son and a war veteran from Oklahoma. I tried to strike up a conversation about Iraq and Osama but he seemed more concerned with looking out the window. After we were done our meals, the elderly gentleman came back and asked us where we were travelling to. When I told him that I was going to Hinton, his face crinkled a bit as he probably wondered why someone would buy a first class ticket to travel to Hinton, but being the service professional that he is, he let out a slight chuckle and asked if I wanted lunch at 11:30 or 12:15. “11:30” I said.

It was about this time that I had serious doubts about this breakfast being part of the super-economy class ticket that I had. But as I left I recognized a family from my section of the train and walked comfortably back to my seat. At 11:30 an employee walked into my section saying that it was first call for lunch. I showed the reservation card I had received from breakfast and I followed her to the dining car. On the way I was asked where I was going. The employee responded for me: “He has a reservation for lunch.” In the dining car, the same gentleman seated me but this time by myself. He then quickly asked me if I was from the sleeper car, which I responded with “No, I’m from the front of the train.” He then told me that I was not allowed to be here and that I needed to pay $12 for breakfast. I thought about trying to show him my reservation for lunch but decided that it was a bad idea. Instead, I refused to pay and he quickly kicked me out of lunch. It’s too bad too, because I had my eye on an excellent looking Angus burger for lunch.

The moral of the story: Listen to your mother, but only as much as you have to.

*These examples may or may not be true