Diaries: Live from Palestine

Tell them, "why"

I had the privilege of teaching Shaker two years ago in Bourj El-Barajneh Palestinian Refugee Camp in Lebanon. He has been visiting Canada now for the past three weeks, along with seven other Palestinian refugee youth. His English language skills are excellent, as he stands before audiences filled with hundreds of people, telling us about how he exists in Lebanon - deprived of civil liberties, victim of countless Human Rights abuses, caged within the open prison of a refugee camp. His voice is being heard. Are we listening? 

Border Crossings

An miniature airplane hangs in the center of the ceiling fan. Mohammad points up at it, Nadia brought it for my nephew, Ahmad, but I took for myself. An airplane. The center piece of a room filled with symbols of a ravaged homeland. Palestine. 

Checkpoints on the Road Map


At Beit Farik, 25 men stood waiting in the sun to return to their villages from Nablus for over 5 hours. The line grew from 25 to 50 men, but the soldiers ignored them, only allowing one or two men to pass every twenty minutes until late in the day. Eight of the men were singled out. Their IDs were taken from them and they were detained at the checkpoint for hours until the soldiers decided to return their IDs and let them leave. Brooke Hatherton writes from the northern part of the West Bank. 

Going nowhere: the real Road Map for Palestinians


Then we hit the next checkpoint. Israeli soldiers with armored jeeps blocked the road and were forcing all vehicles to stop. We were 5th in line. All of the vehicles in front of us — one medical supply van, a truck filled with bales of hay, a passenger car, and another service taxi — were forced to turn back. When the soldiers motioned us forward, he peered into the car, saw 7 men and 1 woman and told everyone to get out. He took our passports and the other guys’ ID’s - color coded, orange or green. This helps the soldiers decide who to single out for the most humiliating treatment.�� 

Mabrouk

Mabrouk (“blessings to you”) is an Arabic expression to congratulate people. You not only use it on occasions like a birthday but also when something new has been bought, like clothes, or in the case somebody has moved to another house. Saying mabrouk confirms that your interlocutor made the right choice. Arab culture has more of such customary expressions. They are not just polite ways of showing that you know the rules of address - like in the West - but they are said in an often quite enthusiastic and involved manner showing that the speaker has been alert and has detected something new or special. Toine van Teefelen writes from Bethlehem. 

Tragedy and inspiration in Nablus

Today no-one is being allowed to leave Nablus, not internationals (who the Israeli military are usually happy to see the back of), or the family with five small children who Freda saw while at the checkpoint this morning, waiting in the overpowering sunshine. This is a small example of how the Roadtrap to Peace is going nowhere for the people on the street. Jenny Gaiawyn writes from Nablus. 

4th of July reflections from Palestine

3 July 2003 — I arrived in Palestine two days ago with no problems or harrassment. It was a pleasant change from last year when I was interrogated by El Al security at New York’s Kennedy International for 1 hour and again for another hour by Israeli passport security at Tel Aviv’s Ben Gurion International. This time, apart from a very bumpy trans-Atlantic flight, it all went very smoothly. Given the choice, I’ll take that kind of turbulence any day. Daniel Jacob Quinn writes from occupied Jerusalem. 

Camino Re'al and the Real Road in Palestine

While talk of “The Roadmap” continues, what also continues are relentless attacks on Palestinian civilians who try to travel the real roads within Gaza and the West Bank. Strange how the natterings of diplomats are rarely informed by the cries of the people. It is reminiscent of Tennessee Williams’ brilliant play, Camino Real,in which we witness the depths of human despair through a nightmare vision of what our world may be coming to, and in some cases has already become. Daniel Jacob Quinn writes from occupied Jerusalem. 

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