3/4 Full

The thrill of off-road adventuring has always maintained my attraction - the rugged unpaved byways leading you away from the conventional and towards solitary locales that seem to affect some innate sensibility for the natural. My sense of comfort in the out of doors has been perpetual, though having such an experience while in Palestine was not in my first line of thought. I had such an adventure yesterday, but the comfort was accompanied by a trace of melancholy, for at our destination I found myself looking miles into the distance to the area where the heritage of my two accompanying friends lay literally in ruins.

Bouncing up and down in our pint-sized Hyundai Getz, snaking our way around olive groves and grape vineyards on a rough, dusty road, three friends and I headed east from Bethlehem over ancient terraced hills towards the Green Line, the '47 border between Israel and Palestine. Aside from a few scattered villages, distinctly Palestinian with their slender minarets rising above concrete homes, the hills were mostly uninhabited and it was easy to imagine that they haven't changed much over the millenia. In the sparse terrain below, young olives and pine grasped at the limestone soil from seeds planted in a not too distant past. Even though the area was within the internationally recognized borders of Palestine, few of its residents have been able to maintain there subsistence farming there, access for them has become much too difficult in the last 40 years.

In the distance, just past the Green Line, verdant pine stands planted and maintained by the Jewish National Forest Service stood in stark contrast to the hills beneath our feet. Many of these forests have been planted within the last 60 years over what were once Palestinian villages, now deemed 'nature reserves'. The originial village of my companions lie within these reserves, now virtually inaccessible but vaguely visible only a few miles away. Our brief adventure brought them as close as they might come to the land where their families had lived for hundreds of years, and as close as I might ever come to understanding what it might mean to never be allowed to return home.

I have a little more than four weeks left in Dheisheh before I return to the States. My volunteer service has transformed considerably since I arrived 3 months ago. I began by facilitating strength training for the various sports teams, instructing on warm-up regimes, training the teenage girls in basic martial arts (for self-confidence and coordination for their dance training), conducted various interviews to get a better sense of life on the ground in the camp, and worked somewhat consistently with young boys and girls basketball teams. There have been challenges and the evolution of my involvement has not played out precisely as I had envisioned initially, but I was under no illusions that it would (I was shooting a little too high at first, I admit).

In the last several weeks I have conducted several trainings for the 4th generation dance troupe, a group of 15 youth in their mid-teenage years. The purpose of the workshops was to help them to critically examine their perceptions and feeling about a number of issues, including their 'identity' as refugees, the value of self-expression, understanding stereotypes, expressing both their fears and dreams, assessing their perceptions of the value of maintaining cultural traditions through dance, media, and the importance of sharing their personal stories. The subtext of the workshop was to prepare the youth for a documentary film in which they will have the chance to articulate these perspectives for a Western audience. I came up with the idea for the film after seeing another short documentary made by my cohort here at Ibdaa, the resident media expert, Pablo Pitcher. Although amateur in its overall construction, Pablo and I are hopeful that the content will provide a meaningful and affecting glimpse into the lives of the Dheisheh youth.

The documentary will be one of my final tasks here and, in addition, I have a considerable amount of work related to my Master's to complete, including the formal interviewing of Dhiesheh youth as well as experts on youth refugees and Palestian youth in general. My only cross-border trip in the Middle East will be to Jordan in the coming weeks, where I will have the chance to meet with the Chief UN Field Officer for Palestinian refugees there. I am afraid that the time ahead will transpire far too quickly, but I am convinced that my future service in Palestine is far from over.

If you are interested in keeping updated on the latest news from the Middle East, please follow the links below. Massalame.

http://www.haaretz.com/

http://www.imemc.org/

http://www.maannews.net/en/

http://www.aljazeera.net/en/

A Clash of Narratives

"With the Annapolis Conference just around the corner, and the 60th anniversary of the Arab-Israeli War only months away, is the climax of this intractable conflict coming near? We are here to ask what Palestinian refugees have to say about this, the most recent in a string of 'peace processes' that have over time done little to stem the violence on both sides of this struggle for land, for security, for recognition, and for peace. We are coming to you live from the Dheisheh refugee camp in the West Bank, Palestine. " Although not verbatim, this was the essential message conveyed by Katya Adler, the BBC World reporter who was beamed live from Dheisheh last Saturday.

The BBC team came to Dheisheh to get a sense for the mood in the street on the coming peace conference, the content of which seems to have been dampened so thoroughly that Israel and American officials are merely calling it a "meeting". Whether male or female, young or old, teacher or student, the responses were essentially the same. The people here, all refugees (as are most of the Palestinian population), have little faith in this contemporary effort at resolution and are exceedingly skeptical about it producing any tangibe results, most sparing no energy at all in thinking about it. Although the refugees were quite optimistic initially, after the abject failure of the Oslo peace process in the 90's, during which the confiscation of land increased dramatically and the number of Jewish settlers doubled in the West Bank while suicide bombers penetrated the 'heart' of Israeli society, it is not hard to see why. As for the role of my country in this proces, the present lack of trust in the US as an "honest broker" seems acute.

I did have a desire to spend my time here in Palestine deep in political analysis and examining the high-level processes at work, but my involvement has been on a much more micro scale. I have spent the last 3 months immersed in the Dheisheh community, hardly an extended period of time, but nonetheless enriching and deeply affecting. One can hardly describe what it is to live with a refugee community in Palestine (though I hope that my entries here have given you a small taste of it), and it is probably far different from what you might expect it to be, it sure has been for me. When I first arrived here I was hesitant to poke my head around, for fear of stepping on someones toes, but the community has helped me feel so at home that I walk freely down the cement alleyways and up the narrow roads, shaking hands and exchanging smiles.

Though not everyone feels content with my presence it would seem. I do not view life here through rose colored glasses, and it isn't all hunky-dory when it comes down to it. I do have my own critiques of course, but I won't venture there with you yet. So many foreigners have visited Dheisheh over the years, and once eager to ensure that the world would not forget them, not much has changed on the ground for the veterans of this community. Yet they are always cordial, humble, and outwardly accepting, and the children are always playful.

Interestingly, while writing the previous paragraph the Israeli Army entered the camp and stayed for awhile, just below the Center. Two armored personnel carriers and one jeep stopped at a house at the foot of the building, and out of the clunky metal doors jumped at least 8 soldiers, most equipped with night vision goggles. Minutes later several emerged with a man, a government ministry employee and supposed Hamas leader, and swept him away in a small jeep. Most of the soldiers remained while some searched the house, others tasked with making sure the space was secure. In and out, not much to see, though the feeling certainly lingers.

Yesterday afternoon I traveled to Hebron with two friends. The destination was a glassblowing and ceramics factory, so I tagged along thinking it might be of interest. A third generation family business, the factory was situated adjacent to the main street leading into Hebron and was more of a large modified garage with a brick, oil-fired glass oven in the center, several rooms in the rear for ceramics painting and baking, and a large shop with the finished products. The artisans focused intently on their handiwork as I wandered around and took photographs, all of them seeming to enjoy the spotlight.

The trip to Hebron is always an interesting one. Some of the most contentious issues in this conflict are reflected in the Old City there, where mostly American-born Jewish settlers of usually extreme persuasions have established fortifications in the middle of the city and in the surrounding areas. Just yesterday an Israeli television channel broadcast scenes of settlers abusing Palestinian residents, "kicking Palestinian children," and spewing profanities at them. Although not always the nuetral peacekeepers, the "Israeli police officers and soldiers expressed their exasperation at the settlers' continuing behaviour".

The settler issue in the West Bank is an extremely sensitive one and is a critically important part of the coming peace process. The first step of the "Road Map" for peace is that Israel dismantle the illegal settlements built after 2001. There are 106 illegal outposts in the West Bank, illegal under international and Israeli law, in addition to other "neighbourhoods" encroaching deep into the Palestinian territory. The growth of the population in the settlements is three times that of Israel, according to Israeli government statistics, and has reached nearly 270,000. Such settlers, usually driven by a fierce ideology that considers all of original Palestine as intrinsically Jewish, will not abandon their "caravans" so easily, posing a major problem for Ehum Olmert and the current Israeli government, and also making it impossible to establish an independent and viable Palestinian state. The road ahead is a rocky one. To get a visual understanding of the inherent challenges, here is a link to a map developed by the Israeli human rights organization, B'tselem, with the settlements in blue:

http://www.btselem.org/Download/Settlements_Map_Eng.pdf

In the past two weeks I have been engaged in an email 'dialogue' with a Jewish woman living in California. By chance, or perhaps by a twist of fate, I became embroiled in an internet conversation with this woman and up to now we have exchanged at least 6 lengthy pieces covering a number of issues, from the settlements to misconceptions we both believe each other to have. It has been a pleasure for me, for this has been the first instance in which I have exchanged sentiments with an American, after being here for some time, about the Palestine question, and to make more it thoroughly captivating, she is a die hard supporter of Israel. It has been a clash of narratives to a great degree, but there are no easy answers, and I believe it important for me, as a student, to critically examine every perspective I come across, especially my own. Having spent some time here, experientially coming to understand how the facts on the ground play out, I have developed a different perspective from those who have not. This is not to say that my perspective is any more infallible than this Jewish American woman I have come to know recently, though it is easy to see how conventional arguments, which tend to be easy answers to difficult questions, are quickly refuted when you see things with your own eyes.

I'll give you an example. A very conventional argument made is the "security" one - that the illegal Wall and the settlements and outposts are to ensure Israeli security from Palestinian terrorism. It sounds good, logical, appeals to our human sensibilities, but in reality is far more subtle and nuanced. The American woman, who has never been to Israel or Palestine, believed that most settlements are near the Green Line (the de facto border of Israel and Palestine) and serve as a buffer zone. For one thing, placing kindergartens and shopping malls, and thousands of affordable housing units between you and the 'terrorists' doesn't seem to me a brilliant strategic option. For another, the actual placement of several of the settlements around Bethlehem, exclusively Jewish hilltop sanctuaries directly adjacent to Palestinian hillsides, are easy targets. It would certainly be hard to argue against the separation Wall if it was constructed on internationally recognized lines of demarcation, but it encroaches so deeply into Palestinian territory that it is more than double the length that it should be if it were. Some see a security 'fence', some see land annexation.

So the settlement issue and the Wall are some of the most controversial and emotional of the conflicting undercurrents here. Insofar as these issues are not dealt with in a just manner, not to mention the issues which are really the heart of the matter - the refugee situation and the status of Jerusalem - little progress will be made, 60 years and counting.

Conflict Transformation

The sun was just setting west of Al Khadr, a small town adjacent to Bethlehem and no different in its outer form with its pale grey buildings, scattered olive groves, and dusty amber veil, as we entered into the only local soccer stadium to watch a game between Ibdaa and Thakafi, a team from Tulkarem in the north. As we sat on the cement steps and in the chilling wind we looked down upon the emerald turfgrass and could see that this was going to be no ordinary game. Both teams entered and lined up midfield, on either side of a 15' poster with several photos of a handsome and smiling Tha'ar Hassan from Bethlehem, now a martyr and once a soccer player himself. The game would be in commemoration of this 23 year-old Islamic Jihad fighter who was killed in his home by the Israeli Army one year before to the day.

Behind the poster of Tha'ar, with his gleaming smile and long black curls, were 10 Palestian youth weilding bagpipes, and as they played the Palestinian national anthem each player held a hand over his heart and all spectators rose in unison. For a period of time an assortment of well-dressed men gesticulated and spoke emphatically to the modest crowd from a wooden podium in a manner akin to a passionate sermon. Unfortunatley, my comprehension of Arabic was insufficient. A bearded man, dressed more casually in blue slacks and dark shirt, then sat down in front of the poster of Tha'ar and sang verses from the Qur'an.

In the meantime, all of the players leaped as high as they could and then scuttled forward and back in rapid motions in an effort to warm up their lower limbs, their own weapons of choice. It was an average game, but its symbolism reached farther than any potent kick might have. The parents of Tha'ar were there, as was a brother one year his junior, Moataz, who was playing for Ibdaa that day. It took some time for the significance of that experience to sink in, and some serious reflection.

I recalled that during the halftime break a large white screen was carried out onto the field and a short video in memory of Tha'ar was unveiled for the first time. Many of the images might have been startling to you - of this young man cleaning his rifle, expressing his will with passion while standing before an Islamic Jihad flag, live footage of the Israeli assault and his last stand, and even his corpse. If one were to have no personal context or intimate understanding of the people here, their struggle under the very oppressive circumstances they have no choice but to endure, I think it would be very easy to feel shocked and even fearful by such imagery. Even more so if a sense of prejudgement and blanket stereotyping is immediate.

Upon reflection, I think it might be important to understand several things in this case. Tha'ar is seen as a hero. He was willing to sacrifice his life for the dignity of his community, and he chose a conventional path (one accepted by most humans the world over) to do that. Though it might be easy for most to view him as the 'enemy', a 'terrorist', or any of the other ambiguous characterizations of this community writ large, I assure you that not everyone here supports the method of armed struggle as a useful tactic. But they do see it as struggle nonetheless, and anyone who struggles, no matter the method employed, has a place in a community psyche under occupation.

It is perhaps more important to grasp another kind of struggle that is much less exposed, yet fundamentally more powerful. Think of Tha'ar's younger brother, Moataz. Sitting with arms hugging his knees, Moataz observed visions of his brother on the screen in front of him, a brother as close in age as my elder is to me. He had many choices before him. It would have been acceptable in this context for Moataz to revenge his brothers death, to take up armed struggle in his memory, no one would have objected to his gut-level enmity for his brothers killers. Yet...he was choosing to play a game of soccer instead. Can you also imagine the fortitude of Tha'ar's parents, sitting quietly in the crowd as a soccer game was played in memory of their slain son? I know that I may forever struggle to fully grasp the significance of this event, but I am beginning to see that conflict transformation is happening everyday here. The deep resolve of this community is impressive.

I can offer you countless cases in which this conflict is being transformed at its most fundamental level, by the Palestinians themselves. The ex-political prisoners I have interviewed, all of whom were kidnapped, tortured, and humiliated in their youth by the IDF have emerged believing that their struggle is not effectively fought with armaments, but with action - education and by forging lives of meaning. Another...a woman who was shot and imprisoned. She can now only use her right arm as half as well as she should be able to, and she supports her two daughters in playing on the Ibdaa basketball team so that they might find nonviolent avenues for their daily struggle. As the two girls coach, my proximity to such activities brings me great pleasure.

"The revenge feelings", as my friend here tells me, "will never go away, only the avenues chosen to express them." In this way the 'cycle of violence' that often dominates the discourse is being halted, and the reality is being transformed into something sustainable and life-giving instead, and by the people we are easily persuaded to assume are at the center of the cycle itself. For me personally, to not forgive and to revenge with a retributive intent that reaps a similar level of suffering is guaranteed to continue the cycle of misery, stagnation, and pain. But this is the world in which we live and we have much growth to do together. There are a growing number of persons whom operate unnoticed or at least unrecognized, navigating their way through their own shadows and the darker sides of our human psyche, holding a small flame in their heart with which they light their way. This is truly conflict transformation -- through personal transformation.