from tear gas to bike lanes

here are three pictures of gifts given to me, which i will not take home. one is a certificate from the TRC as a thank-you, another is a traditional palestinian hand-woven piece with copper work to hang on my wall for my keys. the last is a kuffiye with arafat and the dome of the rock on it.

i left harduf yesterday in a semi-panic. just being there, the green grass, the pleasantness, is in such stark contrast to the rubble of ni'lin. the geographical proximity makes it even more difficult. its one thing to observe the difference when i am in the US, but the fact that in the morning i can be shot with tear gas and in the afternoon have a picnic outside, its strange. and i am not talking about the guilty feeling of the fact that i can leave, i am just talking about the juxtaposition, it makes the situation feel even more surreal. but its real.

i leave harduf and hitch-hike to jerusalem, its relatively easy to get there. when i get there i want to take a taxi to the old city, to damascus gate, to east jerusalem. but i am turned down by several taxis, no reason given, just dirty or angry looks. the kind of looks that make my own soul feel filthy, its hard to wash off. but finally i get a palestinian taxi driver, and i make it. the strap broke on my luggage, so carrying it for the 4 miles in the heat of midday is not a pleasant option. but its the option that nihaya from hebron must make, every day. i ease into the cab and feel the wind in my hair as i ride to the beautiful old city. there i meet sadek, a man who has been involved in everything. he works as a sort of parole counselor, with gay youth, folks with substance abuse, and much more. a real community activist. he takes me through the old city where we encounter 4 types of israeli security harrassing the palestinian vendors in various ways. one is a soldier, checking random IDs, standing there with their huge guns, laughing. another is a refrigerator of a man, bald, with a handgun, looking menacing as he asks questions to another. sadek tells me he is there to inspect people's products. and two more different types of "security" are there as well, asking questions, checking IDs, holding people, making life difficult. because they are palestinian. we only need to walk two blocks to witness this, then we get to a cafe where we sit and have a grapefruit juice, and he smokes an arguila. he says he likes to indulge every once in a while, because his work takes a serious toll on him. we talk for several hours about life here, about his work, and so many other things. he and his friend are interested in getting a NADA training for their rehabilitation program, and want to do so as soon as possible. i start to realize that there really is unending work here, and he agrees.

i get to tel aviv, and i have to take a bus to a shopping mall to pick up the keys from sigal for her house, she wont get home until 10. again, going through 3 security points to check my bags, and it isnt just police, the military is there as well. so many guns. and the mall, the massive consumer center, everyone so fashionable and nice. buying things in airconditioned setting. its not hebron. on the bus from the mall to sigal's house i ride through jaffa, where there are palestinians, and many other immigrants. its considered by many to be an undesireable neighborhood. the guy on the bus was giving me advice. he told me that since i am an acupuncturist i can make so much money in israel, but go to the rich neighborhood. get out of this shit, he wispers. he tells me i can find an apartment with one bedroom for 300 or two bedrooms for 500. i can rent the one bedroom to a friend for 300 and only have to pay 200, he advises with a wink. thanks for the advice.

i get off the bus and buy some hummus for dinner, its certainly something that i will really miss. as i walk to sigal's house a rock lands next to me, and i look around. must have been a car bouncing it off its tire or something. i take a few more steps a big rock lands hard right next to me and smashes on the ground. this time its very close and almost hit me, and it was big. i look around and a group of kids are on the roof nearby. its the first time i have had a rock thrown at me. what a weird feeling.

well, i think thats all i got for now, probably the last update as i leave tonight. i hope i dont have problems leaving the airport, that they dont hold me too long. so begins the psychological game played, making it very difficult and painful for people to want to return. even if they dont give me a hard time just the possibility is enough to make me start to get nervous. anyway, its not helpful. i will be back tomorrow night so if anyone has questions please write or call, i will be happy to answer questions. going back to the US gives me so much to think about. so many worlds. thanks to all those who have been reading and passing on the word to your friends and people close to you. it means a lot to me, and to so many people here, which is of course the important thing. many people i have talked to express to me that they often feel hopeless because no one understands them in this world, and no one cares. really, it does give people a sense of hope and support to know that their stories are told, and that when their lives are written and talked about they no longer exist in shadow. its like the lack of the signs for Jenin. the effort to keep it from being written is an effort to deny its existence. to deny the existence not of a city but of a people. of lives. lives that dont exist. and for all practical purposes, the people of jenin dont exist to the whole world. only they know that they exist, and i am sure even some doubt that. but when we write, put a pen to the paper, as visual as possible, or when we talk, we can make our own effort to support, through solidarity, love and action, those who are struggling for the world to know that they exist. i hope this doesnt sound sappy or preachy, so i will stop now. but thanks. see you all soon.