I came back from Palestine on Friday. I actually wanted to stay longer but as fate would have it, there were no airline seats available until August and I hadn't planned on staying 3 months, so I'm back.
I can't even describe how much the Israelis have taken over the West Bank. If I sit and think about it for longer than 60 seconds, I feel nauseous. It actually makes me physically sick to my stomache to know the world has allowed that corrupt and terrorist government to do what it has done. No, I'm not talking about Hamas, as Americans would "naturally" conclude, but Israel.
There's that wretched apartheid wall which Israel has successfully convinced the now defunct American media to call the Security Wall. It's not built on Israeli land but Palestinian. It's not enough that the settlers have illegally taken more Palestinian land, but that wall literally cuts through peoples' towns and livihoods as a constant reminder that justice is an empty word to Israelis. There's a main highway I used to take to my friend's home when I lived there years ago that has a wall running right through it. All down that highway, the wall travels what feels like an eternity making it impossible for Palestinians to visit one another. Or for me to visit my friend. It feels like suffocation. I didn't think anything beyond the occupation could make the Palestinians feel more claustrophobic, but the Israelis have done a masterful job with the Wall. As if cutting the Palestinians off from the rest of the world weren't enough, they're now cutting the Palestinians off from one another. All along the walls there's graffiti from presumabley angry youngsters who write "Where is the world?" , "America allowed this"and such. There's a wall in Jerusalem I saw which I loved. It defiantly said, "Still free" and that in a nutshell is the spirit of the Palestinian people. Even in the face of human degradation, atrocities, illegal occupation, working without any paychecks coming in and a virtual prison, they refuse to lie down and roll over.
The illegal Israeli settlements are easily surrounding our villages, a validation to one of Palestinian complaints during the peace process that Israel refused to comply with one of the most essential agreements in that they wouldn't build new settlements. I can tell you most of those settlements weren't there at the beginning of the Oslo accords and the settlements are continually built or created. That's one of Israel's forms of terrorism. Those fanatical settlers are each carrying around Uzis, ready to shoot at any moment they want. I can hear them shooting every night, either them or the Israeli soldiers. Either way, they aren't practicing to shoot rabbits.
Everyday the news consisted and persistently consists of Palestinians getting shot and killed. Suspected militants (who needs a trial?), citizens enjoying picnics on beaches, it did not make a difference. It's funny how I don't hear of any of the daily killings on my return here, but a kidnapped Israeli soldier is top news to CNN. It almost makes too much sense when you look at the big picture. An already impoverished Gaza Strip is not only denied aid, but at least 1 million citizens are now without power and water. Bridges and buildings of everyday use are being demolished. Once again, Israel is using an excuse to practice collective punishment. They are literally leaving the Palestinians powerless and thirsty. It almost makes too much sense, but then you watch the news and find that the American media has twisted this story into one of heartache for the Israelis. 1 soldier is captured and armageddon ensues. 1 million people are attacked and held hostage in a virtual prison and it is still the soldier who garners attention and pity. The use of common sense has been abandoned, as has the justice for Palestinians.
Besides that, Ramallah, the nearest city to my home, should only have been a 5-10 minute drive but because the Israelis closed that road off to Arabs (because there are roads for Palestinians and then there are brand spanking new roads solely for Israeli settlers and soldiers that cut through more Palestinian land), we have to drive around for half an hour to get to the same destination. This detour meant that everyday I passed by the Jelazone, a Palestinian refugee camp that has quickly become overcrowded. The most amazing thing was seeing dozens and dozens of kites flying over the Jelazone at dusk whenever I was on my way home. It's so crowded with the houses nearly toppling over eachother that you don't see children, just the profile of buildings filled with people forced to leave their homes and relocate, poor and forgotten. I imagined the children down below found that those kites reminded them of that sense of freedom they so craved. Did they wish they were the kites? I always wondered whether they let those kites go freely in the end of the day or whether they saved it for another moment to savor, some sort of diversion as to their surroundings and situation. It was those home made kites the children held which quietly hovered over the Jelazone that left a lasting impression on me. Just another indication of what the Palestinian spirit is.
Right across the street from that poverty ridden refugee camp was another Israeli settlement. White houses with red roofs to remind its neighbors that they were driven from their homes in some other part of their homeland for more of those same houses. It's existance mocked the victims across the streets, the very ones flying kites.
As frustrating as it is to have been allowed to visit Arab East Jerusalem only because of my American passport, while Palestinians citizens are banned by the occupiers, leaving Jerusalem a shadow of its once bustling self and as frustrating as it was to know that aid to Palestinians was cut off, leaving a whole nation including my Aunt, a nurse, forced to work for free because of America and Israel's politics, I selfishly enjoyed my time there.
I enjoyed seeing my family and my home. I enjoyed taking in those corny sunsets I always mention. I enjoyed picking fresh fruit off the trees of my front yard. I marvelled at seeing a population of wronged citizens survive off whatever small means they had. Time slowed down, I never knew what day it was and I really didn't care. And that's the beauty of the Palestinian life. You take one day at a time, even as the world is caving in on you. You enjoy the little moments, even as life is falling apart. You live your life because that is the only thing to do. When there is no road to our destination, we drive around until we find it. When they build walls in our way, we move forward in spite of the fact.
And when they deprive us of freedom, we fly kites.
