Uncle Nasser

My Uncle Nasser is 43. He smokes like a chimney night and day. He's one of my father's younger brothers. He has 6 children ranging from 13-2 and his wife, Maha, 34, is tired and run down but loves being a wife and mother.
His face is always round and happy, even when he's mad. The eyebrows are what gives the mood away. The older he's gotten, the more he looks like my father. Same round face. Same mustache. Same round cheeks. Same chestnut wavy hair cut short. Same pretty eyes and long lashes. Same hearty laugh and jiggle of the belly when he laughs.

They were very much like brothers in their mannerisms and their looks.

His children Ola, Ala, Amer, Hibah, Tasneem and Mohammad are the perfect combination of Uncle Nasser and Aunt Maha. His daughters Ola, Hibah and Tasneem look very much alike and look a lot like my Uncle Thaer's daughters (he's the youngest of my dad's siblings). The older boys Ala and Amer look a lot like our other cousins sons looked when they were young boys. The baby Mohammad looks a lot like my dad looked as a toddler.

Like in my Aunt Haifa's smile, I see the length of my brothers lashes, the roundness in my sisters cheeks, the heartiness of my laugh, in my uncle. And when I see those things in him, I also see them in my father and it helps me to be closer to him.

Oct 6th: Inti Bait Firas

My Aunt Haifa, who is one of my father's older sisters, gave me several pictures of my father from when he was a teenager. In my entire life, I've only seen 2 pictures of my dad from his younger years that I can remember. One from when he was about 5 and the other from when he was around 16 or 17. Neither one was very clear. In this one, I look even more like him. It made me cry to see all these pictures and how happy he looked in so many of them. I miss his smile. But then again, when I smile, he is smiling. Yanni, Inti Bait Firas. I'm Firas's daughter.

Sat Oct 11th: From Beit Rima to Jericho

As we drove today along the road from Beit Rima to Jericho, these are some of the things that happened and that I saw. Ill probably add some pictures to this later since the bloggy thing is acting up. Or maybe its the slow wireless???

I started out at my Aunts house in Ramallah and made my way over to my Uncle Nasser's house
in Beit Rima which is about 20mins away. His kids, wife and my grandfather live there in a
beautiful little house with a view of Tel Aviv, the dead sea and the entire mountainous
landscape. A couple days after that, I visited the enchanting and holy Bethlehem and went
to the Basilica where Jesus was born. Everything in there was made of gold. The next day
we made our way to Jericho. We wanted to visit the Dead Sea, but they close off the beach
for West Bank Palestinians that day so my uncle (who was driving) couldn't get in.
So off to Jericho we went.

When the soldiers "advise" you to do something, that is not them giving you an option. "Advise" for them is another way of saying, "you better or else." Is that what Jesus would do?
They want any excuse to pull a trigger, stomp a stomach, to start trouble beause they are hot. Bored. Young. Ill-advised. Ready to start trouble because they are on top and the rest of us are not.

Sounds familiar. Sounds unfair. Sounds like the way things have been for a very long time.


School boys hitch rides on the sides of check points and highway lines, hoping taxi vans will take them home or at least close, for little or no shekels.

The women walk along. Adoring eyes the shapes of lemons. Almonds. Green Olives. Sweets they offer for lunch and dinner. Beauty fading around the edge of their face. Their children in tow. The memory of a figure. Of youth. Of the freedom of hair in the winds walks behind them, insulated in their shadows and now living in their daughters just to be lost again on their wedding nights.

Sweat gets caught on colorful hijabs that rest on the shoulders of black dresses that touch their ankles and the tops of their high heeled sandels. Night and day, "Yamma. Yamma. Yamma."
A never ending chant sung by their children. I wonder if any of them were forced to marry. I wonder if the wnted to wait to have their kids. I wonder if their lives would have been different if given a choice.

Of course many fo them go to school, have work, have careers. But their first obligation after God is their family. To be a wife and a mother. There's nothing wrong with that of coutrse. Nothing wrong with taking pride and loving being a wife and a mother. It's a beautiful thing. It's a wonderous thing. Without women, there would be no world. We bring life into this place.

I just wonder how many times a day they hear Shukran (thank you). I bet not once. Every mother I've met hears Shukran from me about 2 dozen times or more every time I see them for everything they do. I wonder if it'll make a difference. Maybe it has. Maybe I have.

Jericho was very beautiful to visit. We went to a Saint George Monastery first. It's in Jericho, but before the Old City, off to a little corner of land near the highway. It's entrance is wide and welcoming, shaded by tropical looking trees, vines full of flowers and the smell of those flowers in the air. Holy men and cab drivers sat on either side, drinking coffee and talking about God knows what very early in the morning.

When we got there, it was almost 9:30am. We entered the next entrance which is also outside as the sun shown above us. A a gray and blue parrot sat in a white cage to my left, speaking in a language I didn't understand. I think it was Greek since Saint George's is a Greek Catholic Church. A Greek flag hung above the entrance. Interpretive pictures of Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and a plethora of biblical characters hung along the stone walls. It smelled of those incense and candles only found in catholic churches. Like wood and earth and oil. To me it smelled like the Botanica's in NY. After all, they look up to the same Saints, right?

Off to the far left was the small entrance for the church. To the right was where you could buy all kinds of crosses and pictures of biblical folks. A woman with a thick accent spoke to us.

"Are you looking for the Church?" Her voice was soft, but heavy. Very Greek. I only know this because when I was in college there was a woman who was about 65 and going back to school who was from Greece and her voice sounded just like this.

"Yes." Was all I could think to say because I wasn't necessarily looking for anything. I was just looking at everything and anything. My uncle thought I might want to see the place and brought me.

"It's in there." She turned as she spoke, clicking her tongue at the parrot in its cage.

My aunt nodded and I went in first. It was very dark in comparison to the bright sunlight in the courtyard. Pictures hung everywhere (even on the ceiling) of the artists' versions of Jesus, Mary, Joseph, Apostles and more. Heavy clothes sat on the sides of the walls and the ceilings, made of what looked like velvet and silks and gold. I took pictures of EVERYTHING.

We walked about looking at the artistic strokes in each painting. All the soft colors, all the expressions on faces immortalized for all time. Opened to interpretation by all. These artists, I assume, painted these holy characters in their own images. In any event, they were beautiful.

Once we were done looking at everything there was to see in the small space of the church, we went back out into the courtyard. My aunt laughed at the parrots squawking talks. I don't think she could understand it either. We went over to the books, paintings and crucifixes hanging along the walls. They were all on sale. 5 shekels here, 7 there. Once again my uncle wouldn't let me pay for anything. He says I'm a guest and his niece and he is obligated to take care of anything I may want or need. I hope to one day return the favor for him. I guess he also figures he's been out of my life for the last 8 years and wants to make up for lost time. Or maybe I'm assuming.

Once we were done at the Monastery, we made our way over to the Old City in Jericho.
This is where larger than average people lived, warriors that defended their lands fiercely and befell tragedy by the hands of God for dissing one of his messengers who wanted to make peace and work with them. The land where the Old City is, they say, is 10,000 years old. And that's when they were shaken with an earth quake and more. Now the ruins show old signs of what houses use to be there and old pottery and bowls sitting about. This Old City is also where Jesus passed to get to the Mountain where the devil tempted him during his 40 fast. There you can ride a cable car above the land. We walked below because it was 3 shekels and cooler to see and touch everything in person. We didn't get up to the mountain though because it was too far and high. On the site where Jesus fasted is now a Church, just sitting on the side of the mountain. Almost looks superimposed or something.

Once we finished walking along the ruins in the hot morning sun, we went over to Hisham's Palace, where the king stayed during vacations to get the sun and heat of Jericho. The ruins are a bit more complete at the Palace but still so far gone. It's only been about a 1,000 year maybe a bit more said my uncle.

The air spoke in ancient tongue. A click and whisper on the wind, howling along the skin. A caress from a lovers lips. King Hisham's Palace lay in ruins. A distant memory of what is use to be. I find the ruins to be even more enchanting that the building itself use to be. I ran my hands along the ancient stones as I took pictures of the old place. It was built in the time of Prophet Mohammad and was the kings get away retreat.

We walked along the entire grounds, the children mesmerized by the sites of the large old stones and the sand they stood upon. I wonder if Mohammad and Tasmeen who are 2 and 4 will remember this later on. I hope so.

Similar to Jericho and Bethlehem, the oldness and history of the place tickles along your skin and jumps your heart a little. It's exciting. It's new. It's old. It's history that you can touch and taste and smell from hundreds of years ago. If you close your eyes after gazing upon all these things, you can almost hear the crackle of the fire, smell the sweet sweat of the guards, hear the hushed giggles of servant girls, catch the distant hum of a song on the lips and in the throat of a singer. You can almost catch yourself back in time, a treasured guest at the Kings Palace.


Once we left there, we headed of to the Oldest Tree in Jericho, where Jesus rested as he walked. The story is in the book of Luke. I took pictures, tried to avoid the German tourists who seemed to want to push folks out of the way and gazed up at the sun through the leaves of this beautiful tree.

We tried to leave right away, but the battery for our car died. That's not a fun situation with a 2,4,5, and 12 year old in the car. My uncle ran around and finally found some jumper cables and got the car started an hour later. We drove about, looking for falafel and then later on that afternoon I got dropped back here at my Aunt Haifa's house in time for the wedding Sunday.

Fri Oct 10th: From Beit Rima to Bethlehem: A road traveled

I wrote several little and not so little pieces on my ride to Bethlehem from Beit Rima.
We were in the car for a little while and as I looked at the scenes (which are sprinkled below) I was inspired to write. And then there is my experience in the Basilica in Bethlehem after that and I sprinkled some photos through out.
I hope you enjoy the writing I have.


(The mountains, view of Tel Aviv and the Dead sea in Beit Rima)


We sped along the highway, passing Jewish houses sprinkled along the mountain side. Their roofs were the red of an unripened tomato, fading day by day in the sunlight. Into the plain off-white of the sides of the buildings.

The hills curve and curl like the hips and long hair of the Palestinian women as we drive, letting you know their beauty and love if you are careful. Letting you know their bite and their danger if you spite them.

My ears clog and pop as we drive above, below, above, below again and again along the mountain side. Old smoke rises from thousand year old Olive Trees that the Israeli government decided to get rid of. October is the time of Harvest. October is a time for mourning dead Olive Trees.

My cousins point out burnt out old houses that Palestinians were kicked out of on the way to Bethlehem. The signs read, "Slow. Dangerous. Curves," as young Palestinian girls walk along the railing with bags of Khubuz (bread) and cautious eyes.


We pass the Wall that divides the people. That divides the land. Divides our country into pieces of a puzzle, never knowing how we'll ever connect the parts that are missing. And how can we when greedy spiteful children play with our lives, play with our land, play with what we'd share if they hadn't taken it by force. How can we know how to put it back together?
Here they call the it the Apartheid Wall. Graffiti dances along the sides of it. A melodic dance of words.



Ghetto is the first word I see. Later on it reads Palestine. Finally Freedom. Phrases for miles of wall glitter the concrete creation. Drawings, paint, words, names. Some in arabic, some hebrew, some english, some spanish. The colors of Palestine. The colors of hope.
Phrases asking for peace. Showing that a wall is not the answer. Showing that a people's passion and spirit can not be killed off by pieces of cement.

Bedouins have their camps by the highway where they look up to their sheep walking along the mountain sides. Trucks speed along, sending waves of air into the hair of the little boys and girls.

If you close one eye, you can block out the ugliness of the phone towers that scar the view of the hills, the donkeys, the willows, the olive trees.

The road from Beit Rima to Bethlehem winds like the sage leaves in our morning tea. Leaf. Vein. Stem. Curl of the herb. Could trace your entire history. Like this road. Like the wind Lou Lou (curls) of my hair that spin like the thought of my father, that twirl around my fingers like the circled insides of the koosa as you clean it. The road and it's dangerous curves ahead.

We pass the sign for Jerusalem. I am the only one in the car who can go. Simply beacuse of my U.S. citizenship. I am still a dirty arab to them. Worse, a mud blood who is also Black.

Men who look like the white corporates who are gentrifying NYC stand by their businesses with writing in Hebrew. Women with tired sunkissed faces who are dressed in black dresses and colorful hijabs walk by.

Children run about, gazing longingly at me with eyes the color of honey and sand, of grass and of the the sea they will never see in their own country.

From the outside, the massive stone church sports 3 bell towers along its roof. The ring every 30 or so minutes and it's chime can be heard through out the small stone streets. This church was built over the manger where Jesus was born.

As I stepped along the stones to enter the church, a chill in the air rose the hairs on my arms. You just know there is something special inside. You just know that something special happened here. The front door entrance is only about 4 feet high, so one must watch their head as they walk in. Even though the outside is big, I wasn't expecting the inside to be so massive. When you first walk in, the entrance is very plain. Only stone and dust. The second entrance is where the sparkle lies. Pillars that looked to me to be 100 (maybe more) feet high ran along the very long hall with lanterns of Gold and red jewels hanging around them. High on the ceilings and the walls were stained glass windows and old paintings that were put there when Constantine put the Church over the manger in the 300's.

As you walk along, there is a couple wooden doors on the floor that are opened with carpets below. I'm not sure they were for. My uncle didn't know and the guide that was there with a group was speaking Russian. I don't remember if there was a reference to that in the Bible. Maybe it was the original entrance for the inn next to the manger.

From there you can see up into the next part of the church where there is more Gold than I have ever seen in my life. Everything looked like it had gold on it or in it. There were pictures everywhere from as far back as Constantine's time. There are steps leading up to that part of the church, but you can't really go that way. So we went to the side entrance where there was a mass-like thing going on with the priests there. They were dressed in robes, waving the lantern with the incense in it around and reading from their very old bible. It didn't sound like latin or arabic to me. I'm not sure what language it was. Their voices echoed through the whole place, like a chorus sung behind them to amplify their sound. I bet it would sound so beautiful to hear a chorus in that hall.

We couldn't go in that way while the procession went on, so we went in the other way. To the right there were seats to watch the procession, to the left there was a higher level type stage where where were pictures and more seats for what seemed to be important people and then on the other lower level, the priests chanting and waving the lantern.

We walked around and saw all the pictures. Amazing art and beautiful clothes hung about.
On this side was also the entrance (which was lower) to the manger where Jesus was born.
After we walked around on top and looked at all the pictures, we went down below and saw where he was born. A golden star rests in the spot they believe it took place. People came around it, gasping and sighing at the site. The cavernous stones vibrated their hushed sounds as they looked about and resembled the sigh of the winds above.
After their sigh, each person took turns going down on their hands and knees and climbing inside the opening to kiss and place their heads upon the star. They all prayed in their respective languages, pushing and shoving at one another, not an "excuse me" in sight, to see it, to touch it, to be near it. I wonder if Jesus would have minded me elbowing someone in the side for pushing me out of the way? Maybe. I didn't kneel down and kiss anything. I just wanted to see it and take a picture. I try never to be in the way.
Of course when dealing with certain folks, it is the way they act. I'm not sureprise. After all, the Crusades and the Iraq war should show me just how Christian folks act towards each other.
Maybe Jesus would want to elbow all of us in the side for being such fools.
Maybe.

There were also paintings down below by the birth area of all kinds of other interpretations of Jesus and Mary and the birth. Some looked Greek. Some looked Asian. Some looked very Semetic with big connecting eyebrows and larger noses. Mary and Jesus are whoever you want them to be, right? So they looks like all of us.

After looking at all of that, we went back upstairs and ended up in the chapel where the organs played something that sounded straight out of Phantom of the Opera. It echoed throughout the pulpit and the pews. Rumbling the inside of my chest. Making me feel warm inside. I like the sounds of organs. Its been a long time since I've been up close to hear one and see it being played. My cousin walked along with me and she was amazed by everything. She's 12 or 13 and has never seen anything like any of that. So it was extra special just to see how happy it made her to see these things. My other cousin stayed close to my Uncle, his dad. And our grandfather found places to sit and wait along the way. He lost interest after one of the priests told him he couldn't wear his kuffiyah on his head in the church. He told the priest that it's a muslim custom and that he was being disrepectful by telling him to take it off. And that muslims respect Issa/Jesus very much. And that was the end of that.

As we walked to the exit of the chapel, confession boths that read "French" and "Arabic" sat along the walls. A few people said prayers as they sat on the edge of the seats. Statues and flowers hung along the white walls. Everything sparkled clean and neat in this place. Not a speck of dust or dirt or anything. Clean. Maybe I should get these priests to come to my house. :)

I walked along and saw the candles to light to say prayers for folks. I said a little prayer for my dad and lit a candle. My cousin insisted on lighting one too, even though he didn't know what it was for. He's 8. Of course he had to copy me.

I don't remember what they are called, but those bowl like things that hold the holy water was by the door. I slowly dipped by fingers in and put some over my heart, saying a little prayer of guidance and wellbeing for myself along my journey.
We walked out into the courtyard and the sun shown heavy over our heads. The breeze cooled us though, making the combination pleasant and warm.

Another hall laid before us as we walked out towards the front entrance.A bigger than life-sized statue of Gabriel on a white horse slaying the devil sat in a museum like glass. It reminded me of the statue my mother had when I was 9 of the Angel, of God's soldier, wearing robes of blue and white with a small red cape that rested under massive white feathered wings. His muscled arms hold firm and strong to the sword that he held to the neck of the beast as he stood over him. As a child, I would sit there for hours, staring as hard as I could at the statue, hoping that one day he would come alive and fly away with me. Weeks later my mother smashed all her statues in the backyard and I knew he'd never come. At least not until Judgement day.

After all that, we went to check out the shops that sold some crosses and wooden statues made of the Olive Trees. My uncle said those were good things to get because the trees were from this holy place were sill alive. So I got a nativity scene and an angel. And several other things. He wouldn't let me pay for anything. Says Im a guest and his neice and it's a present. And he got a discount because he's an arab from beit rima and they know how to talk a price down.

Then off we went for Shawarma and home.

Thursday Oct 9th: Near to family- small stream of thought

It's important to be near family. It's a bond that makes us strong. Knowing that you have someone to rely on when you need it and vice versa.
To know you matter to some one and that someone matters to you. Because family matters.
Who ever you consider your family. It just is.

Palestine smells like home and Rimawi's everywhere: Part one

It's been some what of a mystery as to why we all fell out of touch, as to why the family that was near to me through my father was no longer near to me once he was gone. Of course things like that are never done on purpose, but nevertheless, there was a piece missing inside of me that was connected to their part of my family.

I haven't really had a chance to write since I've been here so I'm using the quiet time I have now that folks are at work and school to write.

I love the way Palestine smells. It's so homey. I love the smell of Palestine. The sites and sounds. The smiles and the laughter of children. It makes me feel warm. Makes me feel safe. Makes me feel like I've come home.

It's like sweet and bitter and hot and salty. It smells the way I would imagine comfort smelling. It feels like life would be good here for me. Aside from war or oppression, life would be good. Where else isn't like that? The entire world is in turmoil. The entire world is falling apart. Where else can I go?

It's peaceful for me here, like a warm bath or the waves of the ocean playing along your skin hours and hours after you've left the waters. Just comforting.

And here I thought that there were alot of Rimawi's in NYC, but alas there are 10,000 Rimawi's here in Ramallah, mostly based in Beit Rima and then a few more thousand around Palestine.

My grandfather is having a complex built for most of his grandchildren and said that it's here if I want it and I just have to move here. That me, my brothers and sister each have an apartment ontop of one another and it's all paid for. Below the apartments will be stores. Maybe this is where I can put together a business. My uncle said the easiest way to become a citizen is to marry someone here or open a business. I think it's more likely for me to open a business than it is for me to marry someone here. I already have my heart set on someone else.

I'll continue writing later. I want to help my aunt cook, even though they don't want me doing much. At least I'll sit and talk with her and have some arabic coffee. Yum!
And I wanted to add more more pictures of Ramallah in here today, but the bloggy thing isn't working right. Maybe tomorrow or so it'll work fine.

Eyes like mine: Meeting some of the family

It's my first night in Ramallah and I am exhausted. I need to sleep after flying through the Ukraine and waiting and waiting and waiting to get into Tel Aviv and then having to wait there some more when they couldn't find a bunch of our luggage and having to have them tell me that I have to wait until Sunday to get it.
It amazes me just how backwards and careless some folks are.
In any event, I got here and saw these family members for the first time. I see now where Jamelah gets the other part of her smile from, because it's so much like my Aunt Haifa's. The shape of her mouth, her lips. Jamelah's are so much like our mother's, but they are also very much like Aunt Haifa. And her mouth is also like mine. So wide and welcoming.
And her eyes. Her eyes remind me of my father. Not so much in the shape or the color, but what they say, the knowledge they hold. The deeper meaning behind them. Her eyes are like mine. Her eyes are like my father's. She is my father's older sister, so we have a kinship there in having siblings younger than you. She's small, with wide hips and a full laugh, a jiggle of the inside and the soul.
And she wants to feed me all day. I feel welcomed. I feel good to be here.
I can't wait for the rest of the days. It's 9:14pm here right now.
Tomorrow Uncle Naser is coming with my grandfather and his children and I think my other aunt Hitaf. So I need to get to bed soon so that I have the energy to walk around with them all day tomorrow.

I'll be around, with more detail later when I'm less sleepy.

Less than a week until I leave

I've been so excited. I am excited. I'm ready to be there. Ready to do all the things I want to do, all the things I plan on doing, all the new things that may happen that I haven't planned. I'm excited.

But also very nervous. Very nervous about so many things.

Its like this hole that been in my heart about who I am and where I come from. In my soul and slowly, it feels like coming home. Palestine feels like home to me. It always has, it's just been out of reach. And now I get to reach it. It's always scary to get what you want. But I'm going head first into my fear and nervousness and going to experience everything that it has to offer.
Another reason I've been nervous is because of the news. Some of the news has been ok. Some of the news hasn't been very good and it makes me wonder how much traveling from town to town I'll be able to do. I check the news, all news sources to get all sides to see whats going on.

I know I'll be ok. I have this strong feeling, deep inside me. Just like the feeling I felt that I knew that NOW was the time for me to go. Just like that feeling, I know I'll be ok. But it still makes me nervous. I don't know what the soldiers will say. I don't know if someone will have had their last straw and board a bus I'm on and take his/her and everyone else life. I don't know. I guess no one knows.
I'm going with very positive energy and a very positive attitude.

But I can, of course only control myself. We'll see what happens. Next week on Thursday, I'll be flying. Thats another nerve-wracking thing. I hate flying. And it's going to be cloudy and possibly rainy. UGH!
It's time for bed. It's time for reading my arabic.

Min fadlek read my blogs as they come along through October. I want to share my experience with everyone. I've noticed I've been getting more traffic on both blogs. I'm really glad. And excited.

Until later.

Here are some articles I found. Good news, Bad news, Scary news. All going on right now.

Jerusalem crash 'not deliberate'

The family claim the 19-year-old driver was murdered by Israelis

Relatives of a Palestinian who was shot dead after his car ploughed into a group of Israelis at a bus stop have denied it was a deliberate attack.

Nineteen people, mostly soldiers, were treated for light or moderate wounds in the incident in central Jerusalem.

Off duty soldiers shot the 19-year-old driver, in what Israeli police have said was an attack.

"My son was murdered, they killed him. He did not carry out a terrorist attack" said the driver's father.

"This was a car accident. The car stopped after hitting a wall. Why did they kill him?" Mahmoud Mughrabi said at his home in Israeli-occupied East Jerusalem.

Israeli police have said they were "100% sure" Qassem Mughrabi intended to carry out a deliberate attack, with one spokesmen saying a failed romance may have been the trigger.

Israeli police spokesman Shmuel Ben-Ruby said investigators had found Mr Mughrabi, who had no prior police record, "wanted to marry his cousin but when she refused he apparently decided to carry out the attack".

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/7631693.stm

A mobile circus to challenge immobility

The beautiful story of the First Palestinian Circus School

The First Palestinian circus school was set up in 2006 when Shadi Zmorrod and Jessika Devlieghere -“father and mother circus”- launched that original project. Based in Ramallah, the school teaches circus arts to children from the West Bank. Bringing much more than circus knowledge to the kids, the school aims to break the barriers– both physical and social- within the Palestinian society, gather people with art, and provide a new way of expression for Palestinian kids. This summer, the Circus school was touring all across the West Bank to present a ‘mobile circus’ filled with Palestinian and Danish performers, joy, motivation and audience’s smile.

It all started in a checkpoint, like many Palestinian stories. At one of the biggest ones in the West Bank -Qalandia- were we met on a Saturday the members of the Palestinian Circus School. It is 3’o clock in the afternoon, and the sun is burning while some 25 teenagers and circus performers are waiting and queuing behind the gates of the checkpoints to leave Ramallah for a day and attend their first performance in Jerusalem.

Sebastian, circus performer from Denmark at Qalandya checkpoint

Pictures: Thomas Freteur

Amongst the teenagers, there’s Mays, Nayef, Marah, Ashtar, Hazar or Fadi … 10 Palestinian circus trainers and students along with Ramit, Mariam, Sebastian, Steffen, ... 7 professional circus performers from Denmark who came to Palestine for cultural cooperation.

The beautiful story of the circus started several years ago when Shadi Zmorrod, a young Palestinian actor discovered randomly circus art in 2000. Two years later, he met Jessika, a Belgian woman who came to Palestine a couple of years ago and fell in love both with the country, the man and the project and decided to stay in the country. Together, they start up a circus project that then became a school. They started out of nothing but now, the determined dreamers have performed with the school in Europe and Palestine, training more than 130 kids in the West Bank.

http://www.palestinemonitor.org/spip/spip.php?article609

Eid al-Fitr arrives to empty pockets

26.09.08 - 11:32

PNN / Fadi Yacoub - Under the Israeli siege and closure imposed on the Gaza Strip, and with the deteriorating economic situation that has followed, the coming Eid al-Fitr is looking bleak. This year is the worst yet, according to many in the Palestinian street. There is little money, prices are up and the dollar is down so low that the world market is being hit hard. Ghazi says there are many obstacles preventing the Eid celebration. He told PNN that in Gaza there is nowhere to go except to walk on the beach. "There is no money to shop or go to cafes." The Gaza resident continued, “The financial hardship experienced by citizens because of underpayment or nonpayment of salaries is an additional hardship to the other factors which include price increases because of the continued Israeli closure of the Gaza crossings.”

http://english.pnn.ps/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=3624&Itemid=1



Abbas: Israeli, US Leadership Changes Won’t Deter Peace Efforts
AHLC Urges Israel to Relax Restrictions, Pledge $300m to PNA

23/09/2008

Palestine Media Center – PMC

En route to his summit meeting at the White House with U.S. President George W. Bush on September 25, Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas said in Dublin, at a joint press conference with the Irish Minister for Foreign Affairs, Miche?l Martin, that the uncertainty caused by leadership changes in Israel and the United States will not deter efforts to further the Arab-Israeli peace process.

Meanwhile a group of international donors pledged nearly $300 million in new aid to the Palestinian National Authority (PNA), according to Palestinian Prime Minister Salam Fayyad, at a meeting of the Ad Hoc Liaison Committee (AHLC), which urged Israel in a statement Monday to curb its settlement activity and relax restrictions on the West Bank and Gaza Strip in order to help revive the Israeli-occupied Palestinian territories.
http://www.palestine-pmc.com/details.asp?cat=1&id=2024

Settlers raid 'Asira al-Qibliya and attack residents, Sept. '08.

Over the past year, settlers from Yitzhar and the surrounding area have sharply stepped up violent acts in nearby Palestinian villages. The attacks include throwing stones at passing cars, physically attacking farmers, burning down crops, and stealing livestock. On 14 Sept., after a Palestinian stabbed a Jewish boy and burnt down a caravan in the Shalhevet Yam settlement near Yitzhar, dozens of settlers raided the village of ‘Asira al-Qibliya. They threw stones, fired into the air, broke windows, drew Stars of David on walls of homes and widely damaged property. Testimonies given to B’Tselem indicate that soldiers were present at the time, yet did nothing to prevent the settlers' actions, and fired at the Palestinians.

http://www.btselem.org/English/Video/20080913_SB_Settler_riot_in_Asira_al_Qibliya.asp

Finding out everything I can about Palestine

See, of course I know all the things I've been told, but there are also a lot of other bits of information out there about the land, about the history of all the towns, about the spots that are most beautiful (and most heart breaking). I've been looking into them today and I'm preparing to list out all the places I want to try and see next month.

And that is another thing. It's already September 9th. In less than a month, I'll be there. I fly out the evening of Oct 2nd and I come back the evening of Oct 28th. I can't believe I'm actually going.

Here are some of the things I found that I may want to check out. I know of course there will be things I find out about when I get there, BUT I also wanted to see if I could find some things in advance.

So here's what I've got so far. The list will grow of course. I have a month to explore.

http://www.telaviv4fun.com/galilee.html

Although this site is very much from an Israeli perspective, it gives an interesting insight into places to visit. This is just one of the links on the site that talks about Galilee, which looks really beautiful. I know I want to go there, but also on that site, they talk about The Dead SEA, Jerusalem (also because I know people who live there who I'll be seeing as well), Haifa (if I can get there since it's a little ways away from where I'll be spending most of my time), Tel Aviv (even though I know if I come in touch with a fucked up Israeli, I'm not sure I can hold my tongue, which will get me in trouble... but I'd like to visit it too and I'm flying into and out of there, so maybe I can do it on my way out to make it easy...i dunno), Ramallah (of course since I'll be all up in there with the familia, but also, apparentl, there is an amazing "night life" which I'd like to see... because there's isn't too much info and I want to see what folks mean by that) and Beit Rima if I can get to it since I'm a Rimawi from Beit Rima.

These are just some of the places I'd like to explore wholly or as much as possible. This won't be my last trip, so I can see more the next time but I'm not sure when next time will be.

I don't know in what order I'll be doing this and how much time I'll be in each, but yeah, just wanted to share while I looked all over the place at everything there is to see

Leaving October 2nd

I leave for Palestine Oct 2nd. I long flight into the Ukraine first and then over to Tel Aviv. Almos 16 hours of flight to help me find myself. To see where my father was born, where he grew up. To meet his sisters and see one of my uncles again. To meet all the cousins over there that I haven't met yet. To connect for 26 days with that part of me that has seemed to be so cut off for all this time.
Each day (at least that is my hope) I'll be writing about my day, about the things I've seen and about how I'm coming along with the manuscript for the book about Palestinian part of me.
There will be pictures and videos which will be on my site and here and I'll keep folks informed.