never as planned

i actually didn't leave when i said i did. because of the carnage in Gaza, there were protests and potential troubles throughout the region. so, i stayed put and changed my flight ahead for another day. am finally in Jordan now.
Sonia has my car and seems to know the roads fine on her own now. she's a great traveler.
i should mention that getting past the bridge was hugely frustrating. my name is apparently on some list. i had to wait 7 hours again. that must be the magic number, btw.
let me mention that the Salon du Livre and the Turin book fair are celebrating Israel this year. European nations have aligned themselves once again on the side of aparthied, racism, and religious persecution. history will reveal them on the wrong side of justice, again. they have learned nothing.

Bye!

not much today. went to add Sonia as a driver on my rental before I left; introduced her to Mohammad, who will take her to Beit Anan and to Maha at Dar Annadwa for the Bethlehem site. I'm off to Jordan. Sonia's blog is http://soniarosen.blogspot.com
much love,
susie

Sonia:



me at the rental office:


Sonia and my cousin, Karam

Israel vows a "holocaust" against Palestinians

Dear Friends,

Yesterday, Israeli Deputy Defense Minister Matan Vilnai said on Israel's army radio that "They (the Palestinians) will bring upon themselves a bigger holocaust because we will use all our might to defend ourselves."

http://www.reuters.com/article/featuredCrisis/idUSL296121231

Please read the following press release for a glimpse of what Israel is doing:

Palestinian Child Arts Center appeals protection for Gaza children
Thursday February 28, 2008 23:43 by Saed Bannoura - IMEMC

The Palestinian Child Arts Center issued an urgent press release appealing international human rights groups and organizations specialized in the rights of children to intervene and protect the Palestinian children in the Gaza Strip as they face a real humanitarian disaster.

The Center stated that what is happening in Gaza is a grave violation to the rights of the children and to all Children Rights Conventions. The Center called for immediate protection for the residents in the Gaza Strip, especially the children "as they are being killed and injured while all want they want is to live as they love life and want to live as any child in this world does".

The statement of the center came after the Israeli army killed 27 residents, including several children, in less than 48 hours. On Thursday afternoon four Palestinian children were killed and one was critically injured when Israeli jet fighters shot several missiles at civilians in Jabalia town, located in the northern Gaza Strip on Thursday afternoon. Medical sources identified the four as, Mohamed Hamudah, 7, Ali Dardonah, 8, Omer Dardonah, 14, and his brother Deib, 11.

http://www.imemc.org/article/53123.html


Israeli Air strike in Gaza Destroys Medical Relief Head Office, Kills
Baby

Ramallah, 28/02/2008. An Israeli airstrike aimed at the ministry of interior building in Gaza City also destroyed the nearby Palestinian Medical Relief Society (PMRS) head office in Gaza and killed a 5-month-old baby in a residential building in the same area.

The PMRS head office was housing the main PMRS clinic in the Gaza Strip, the main pharmacy, an ambulance, a loan centre for handicapped people and all the administrative offices. The ambulance, all the medicine and most of the equipment have been destroyed. The building itself is badly damaged and cannot be used again without extensive repairs.

The attack also hit a nearby residential building, killing Mohamad Nasser Al-Borey, 5 months, in his family home.

Dr. Mustafa Barghouthi MP, president of PMRS, declared "the collective punishment of Palestinians in Gaza has reached unbearable levels. This latest attack destroyed a key part of the already badly hit Gazan health system. Israel has lost all sense of humanity, and the silence of the international community enables its murderous escalation against a people imprisoned in a giant jail. These relentless violations of international law must be put to an end. It is a war crime under the Geneva Convention to target medical personnel. Regional organisations and individual States have to take actions to protect the Palestinian people from Israel. This must stop, now".

Dr. Abdel Hadi Abu Khussa, director of PMRS in the Gaza Strip, declared that "the destruction of the main clinic, pharmacy, office and one ambulance are a terrible blow to PMRS activities and will increase the suffering of the people of Gaza. We are victims of Israeli collective punishment".
Background: PMRS' Work in the Gaza Strip
PMRS is one of the largest non-governmental health service providers in Palestine, reaching 1.4 million Palestinians in over 490 cities, towns and villages in 2007. This was achieved through the extensive physical and human network built in Jerusalem, the West Bank and the Gaza Strip in the 29 years since PMRS was established.

In Gaza, PMRS maintains four primary healthcare centres, two ambulances and two mobile clinics as well as an effective program to help people with disabilities, especially children. PMRS also runs an Individual Relief program for patients in need and a centre providing physiotherapy and assistive equipment to the disabled.

In response to the complete Israeli blockade of Gaza since January 2008, PMRS had declared a status of emergency and was stepping up its emergency program to support the needs of the people of Gaza.

Palestinian Medical Relief Society (PMRS) – www.pmrs.ps

Quality Health Care For All

JIHAD MASHAL
Director General
Palestinian Medical Relief Society

Al-Bireh , PMRS Building
P.O.Box 572
Ramallah
Palestine
jihad@pmrs.ps

fax:
mobile:
Tel:+970-2-2969970
OR: +972-2-2969970
+ 970-2-2969999
OR:+972-2-2969999
+ 970-599-55 77 55
OR: +972-599-55 77 55

Sonia is here..

She got here yesterday and has set up her own blog of the trip. http://soniarosen.blogspot.com

Today and tomorrow are/will be spent showing and introducing her to as many people as possible so she can have a fruitful trip. Here are some pictures. I went back to Nablus, btw, because Shaher is going to help her get around the WB to some extent and i wanted to make sure they got a chance to meet while I'm here. ACTUALLY, I wanted to go back to Nablus because i didn't get a chance to eat k'nafe yesterday and it's just a cultural sin to go there without eating Nablus k'nafe! I ate k'nafe, nammoura, and just about every kind of ba'laweh the place had. I kinda feel sick right now to tell you the truth. I've definitely gained a few happy pounds while here.

I had to blow off a lunch that I really wanted to attend hosted by a well-known publisher for Arab writers! There was just no way I could make it to Haifa and back in time to fulfill a promise [a long and personal story] I made to a friend in Ramallah [which, to me, is ultimately more important]. But I still got a chance to speak with the host and that's worth a lot.

Oh yeah...we stopped by the playground we built in Nablus three years ago and it's in excellent shape! I'm going to post them on our website, but here are a few for now:




From now on, if you want to know more about this trip and how the assembly will progress, check out Sonia's site. I am leaving here with mixed feelings. I don't want to go on many levels. I love it here. I like the person I am here. The way I feel. The sense of being grounded and close to the earth. The strong bonds with friends and the family ties. The cousins I have everywhere I turn on the Mt of Olives. But if I miss Natalie any more, I'll lose my mind. I can't wait to see, hug and kiss her. To talk with her and watch her fall asleep. I want to see Dennis and be there for him. I miss my dog, Gypsy, and cat, Onika.

Here are some pictures from today.

Corey Parrish

Have been thinking about Dennis all day. About his son Corey. Their family. The concert that Dennis, Corey, Lauren [Corey's girlfriend], and I went to last month together. How sweet Corey was. How young and in love he and Lauren were. How much they loved music. How talented he was. Whomever is reading this blog, I hope you'll visit Corey's website. He is so loved by everyone who knew him and will be terribly missed. www.coreyparrish.com

Arab towns vs Israeli settlements

You don't need signs to distinguish and Arab town from an Israeli settlement in the West Bank. Each reflects the respective cultures and priorities. When Arabs build their homes, they do so as individual families. There are no suburban developers that build a plan and then sell the homes. Arabs build their own homes the way they wnat them to be and they do so usually on the hill slopes and in the valleys with two major points of consideration: 1. wherever the home is to be built, it is nestled into the landscape with a real respect for the integrity and shape of the natural surroundings; and 2. the homes are built on the basis of being the family home of several generations; so, the foundation is deep, the space as big as one can afford, and the roofs are flat to accommodate the building of additional levels as the family grows and finances allow. The end result is that every home is unique, with several generations living together, and roads laid according to a social and familial logic and that rise and fall as the hills rise and fall. Here are some examples.



Israeli settlements are very different, built by developers [government] and sold with a different set of priorities. They are usually built on hilltops with two priorities: 1. to have a strategic military advantage in the area; and 2. To build as many units as possible on as much land as the available money will allow. The hills are thus carved in terrible ways to create large stretches of flat surface, upon which very small row homes are set close together in perfect symmetry and separated by roads arranged in grids and suburban planning logic. Their roofs are always red, giving the impression of some sort of earth infection!

BTW, the pictures of Arab towns here were taken from Jenin yesterday. I just didn't have time to post much more last night and this morning I left early. Just one more picture below of the Wall in Jenin. It cuts beyond the Green Line [unlike popular belief] and actually separates the homes of two brothers who used to be neighbors. It also cut a school in half, with a brand new playground now on the Israeli side.

Nablus, Jenin, a new playground site, Shaher, Amjad and Wafaa,

Through another's eyes
I wish everyone could see these hills through my eyes and feel as I did driving to Nablus. The drive took about 1.5 hrs; so, I had plenty of time to soak up what these hills exude of secrets, grief, and promises. Here are just a few pictures that I took along the way; although my photography does not do nature justice.

A friend of mine asked if I could bring back a container of Palestinian soil and I've been gathering dirt from every place that I go in the West Bank. The dying wish of a dispossessed Palestinian man was to be buried in his homeland. His children tried but failed to get permission from Israel to transport his body. At the very least, they want to sprinkle earth from Palestine over his grave to fulfill their father's wasiyyeh, a sacred request in Arab culture.

I have known and heard of similar stories, including my own grandmothers, of that generation that lived and died in exile with the persistent dream of returning home. I tried to imagine his loss and look around me through his eyes today, as if seeing my homeland for the first time since childhood, remembering the life and culture that the world took away from me, and finding it once again at the end of my life. My heart swelled with such love and longing and I felt my throat tighten with tears. I so wanted to pull over, get out of the car, find a place on the slope of one of these hills and lay there until the sun set. But Shaher was waiting for me at Huwarra, so I settled on pictures.

Balata is on fire; Shaher and I go to Nablus and Jenin

I wasn't allowed to drive my car past the Huwarra checkpoint and tried to drive to another entry with the hope of finding a more accommodating soldier. But no luck. I had to park my car and cross by foot. It was okay because Shaher was waiting for me on the other side and he was able to at least convince the soldiers to let me park my car at that entry. It took a while to get through this process. In the meantime, there was an ambulance carrying a patient that arrived at the checkpoint while I was waiting. Look carefully at this picture and you can see the ambulance just behind the barrier. I was there for about 20 minutes, and when I left, the ambulance was still waiting.

I had planned to stop by the Balata refugee camp to see Sol and sit in on her class with the kids; but there were difficulties in Balata. Four young men had been killed by the IOF [israeli offense forces - as we call the IDF] and the funeral procession was bringing people out into the streets. Soldiers often come to these demonstrations and start shooting; so, we decided to skip Balata. However, we still had to drive through the area. The march was just beginning to start up, so we still had time. We stopped to ask a few people if the road was open, even though we knew it was. This was so that people knew we were Arabs. Shaher was driving a Jeep marked with a Canadian affiliation. We didn't want to risk being mistaken for an enemy. Tires were burning in the streets and I took a picture of one on our way into Nablus and onto Jenin.

Jenin has been largely rebuilt since the massacre in 2002 when I was last there. BTW, that's how I know Shaher. He and Amjad, whom we met up with later, became like my brothers during that time. They stuck with me nearly the whole time I was there and helped me get in and out of unfamiliar places. If anyone is interested, there are videos on "google videos" from that time that all three of us shot of the camp during that time. You can also go to http://susanabulhawastuff.blogspot.com// and find them there.

We got to the NGO that I'd like to work with in getting a playground into the camp and spoke at some length about an implementation plan. The group runs a complete children's center with summer camps and ongoing activities throughout the year, including libraries, after school help, sports, etc.

We talked about many aspects of getting a playground into Jenin. The biggest and most delicate issue in erecting these playgrounds is not funding or land, but how to build it in such a way to ensure that the kids will not destroy it. It's difficult to understand the psychology that develops in children who are constantly awoken in the middle of night by the sounds of helicopters and gunfire; who live with a real insecurity that they might not live to adulthood and who face violence from multiple sources. They have a lot of anger and fears that manifest in destructive tendencies. But as this is a given reality, so is it a given reality that they have the right to play and they deserve outlets of creative and positive expression of play. The only solution then is a creative way to give them play areas that will want to take care of.

Our experience, especially with the playgrounds we installed in Gaza, has taught us that if the children themselves participate in the construction and are allowed to have their names and hopes associated with the playground, they will keep take care of it as if it were their own homes. In Rafah, the kids and their parents have constructed a beautiful garden around the playground that they helped install, for example.

The location in the Jenin refugee camp for a new playground

The site was quite large, with a dirt field where kids play football. It's located in a central location between homes and next to a school. Perfect! Here are some pictures.






We talked about the potential layout and came up with a tentative plan to install a playground next to existing old and run-down swings, to paint the surrounding wall so the kids themselves can draw murals, and in some sections, to tile the wall with tiles that each kid can paint and individualize with expressions of themselves. We also spoke of getting the kids involved in landscaping the area and naming some trees after their relatives who are shaheeds [martyrs].

The end result will hopefully have a nice playground, the existing football field in a nicely landscaped and decorated children and community area. We also talked about putting up a small store that would be offered to a needy family as a business in exchange for them taking responsibility over general upkeep of the site.

I got some action pictures of the kids taking foul shots on the goalie.



They were all like little men, but one in particular made an impression on me. He was the youngest, smallest, most fierce, and best ball player with a great smile [when he finally agreed to smile]. His name is Ayman and he's five years old going on 18.

Amjad arrives; he and Shaher had been shot in the time since I saw them last

Amjad arrived at the location while we were surveying the site. It was really great to see him. He married a couple of years ago and now has a little boy. Both he and Shaher are two very gentle souls with a deep love of the land and passionate desire to help their communities. Later on in the day, I learned that both of them had been shot after I left Jenin. Shaher was shot in 2002, not long after I left, while on his way to a wedding. A tank in front of them opened fire for no discernable reason, shattering the windshield and front dash of the car. Shaher was hit by several bullets through his left arm and abdomen. Obvisously, he recovered, but he still has shrapnel in his body and some functional impairment on his left side. The groom in the passenger seat was not hit. Amjad was shot on a evening in 2004 while on his way home from a card game with friends. A group of plain clothed soldiers surrounded his serveece [he drives a cab for a living even though he has an engineering college degree] demanding in Arabic that he get out of the car. Afraid, he sped off, but they opened fire and a bullet went through his door and through both of his thighs. It took two hours to get him to a hospital in Jenin because they had to first get an ambulance and find someone in town who had a permit to cross the checkpoint who could drive him in the ambulance to the hospital. After a couple of surgeries and two years of physical therapy, he can walk with an imperceptible limp, but with no sensation in his lower leg, much atrophy, and no control of his toes.

Wafaa; more playground sites, a great meal and a wonderful time with good friends

Amjad's wife, Wafaa me up with us and all of us ran a couple of errands together to distribute some mawa3een from the World Food Program to a couple of families in a village called Taybe [there are three Taybe's in Palestine, btw], which is also where Amjad lives. We dropped Wafaa off at their house and went to see a couple of other potential sites in Taybe. Shaher has started his own charitable organization and works there on a volunteer basis in addition to his paying job and he has the ability to get things done in Taybe. The whole thing took about 20 minutes and when we got back, Wafaa had already made a meal that would have taken me all day to prepare!

She and Amjad are clearly deeply in love and it was so nice to see them together. She and I bonded instantly and I really didn't want to leave them when it came time for me to go. Still, we had a good 2-3 hours together, eating and talking. Amjad and I shared a sheesha [hubbly bubbly] after dinner, too. The last time I had a sheesha was equally special and I couldn't help but remember that time as well.

Shaher and I left around 6:15 and on the way to Huwarra, he remembered that the checkpoint closes at 7pm and we had about an hour's drive. [Actually, it isn't Huwarra, but the adjacent gateway - remember they wouldn't let me through Huwarra]. Anyway, Shaher stepped on the gas and we got there just in time, but it seems the soldiers had decided to close up early. The gate was closed, but I could cross by foot to get to my car. However, it was dark and dangerous to be walking around. So we waited in teh car with teh headlights on until a soldier emerged from the tower. We explained the situation and he came back after 10 minutes with permission for me to get out of the car and walk across the checkpoint. Shaher was not allowed to get out of the car and the dude followed by movement with a gun pointed at me until I got to the car. whatever! what the hell kind of man points a gun at a clearly unarmed woman walking to her car in the dark. They're such little people inside all that armour and behind their guns.

a sad day

I just got news that a very dear friend and long time supporter of PfP lost his 21 year old son yesterday to a drug overdose. He has two kids, they're all very talented musicians who often performed together at local gigs. Wishing I were in the US to be with my friend. A terrible loss and a sad day.

waxing philosophical

At some point on these trips, I always arrive at a point of introspection. The beauty and humility I feel, the fortitude and dignity of people around me, the landscape, the injustice, the arrogance, the Wall, and the flowers that grow through it, the humor, the graves of my grandparents, great grandparents, great great and great x3 grandparents, the homes where they lived and died, the trees that feel more like breathing, knowing creatures...the elements of life here all inevitably merge for me into calm moments of clarity and purpose. Here I can see and shed all my small fears, the petty minds and habits that get under my skin, the unimportant things I sometimes mistake for value. What's left then are what count.

I spent the afternoon and evening with Esperansa (SP) today. We started out in a yoga class in Rammallah and went to dinner afterward. [not to worry, i got the PfP stuff done too. the interviews with interns and with the reporter]. A month ago, SP was in the US visiting her sisters in Boston and several of us girls who lived at dar el tifl got together for a reunion. Most of them I hadn't seen in over 25 years [by the way, my faithful commenter on this blog, Naife, is one of those girls...actually, i should say 'women']. Amazingly, that time span did not inject any bit of strangeness into our gathering. It was as if we simply picked up where we left off when i was 12 years old. The experience at that orphanage bound us all in a very special way and I left that weekend invigorated with sense of sisterhood and friendship. I felt that way again tonight and saw clearly how truly blessed I am. I have so much for which to be grateful. Natalie and I live in relative safety, prosperity and freedom. There are no helicopters raining death from our skies and no one deliberately cutting off our food and water supply. We're healthy, with access to education and healthcare. I am blessed with the love of friends and family. I continually get to meet and befriend interesting and exceptional individuals. I guess I'm just trying to say that for whatever reason, when I'm here, it's so much easier for me to see what a great life I really have.

I can't wait to hug Natalie in a few days...and that's the only reason I have to leave. Otherwise, I want to stay!

I should also add that I'm grateful for that scary experience at the Bethlehem hajiz. Like Tom Neu reminded me, 'what doesn't kill you, only makes you stronger.' I had been frightened in the extreme; but when I look back, it wasn't fear of being physically hurt. In the back of my mind, I knew that the US embassy knew where I was and that the IDF would have to think twice about hurting me, especially for taking pictures. I wasn't scared of rotting in the vault; I knew they'd have to let me out eventually. Although it felt like it, I knew I wasn't going to freeze to death. I had been frightened out of my mind because I had no idea what was going to be coming at me. Faced with the unknown, I irrationally invisioned the worst and unlikely. There's a lesson somewhere in there, I think.

They think the playground poles are used for rockets!! aye yay yay..

Wallah ana rasi mrakkab bil ma2loob! Sonia is arriving tomorrow...But it's still a good thing that I postponed the trip to Nablus and Jenin because it turns out there's another problem with the shipment. Even though we have clearance [which presumably means they examined and approved every piece of equipment coming through] they are now worried that the playground posts could be used as rockets!! So, I had to do a bit of running around to get some paper work to the ANERA office so they could fax off to the relevant powers that be.


I'm meeting with a reporter in Ramallah later who wants to write about PfP and about my book. And on Friday, Israel Shamir invited me to go with him to a dinner with Arab writers. Considering the ongoing boycott against teh Salon du Livre and the Turin book fair, I am really interested in talking to these folks.

In the meantime, I hung out with more cousins and we had brunch together. After the interview, I'm meeting with intern candidates then will be taking a Yoga class that Esperansa teaches and plan to spend the rest of the evening in Kobar again with her family.

el Khalil [Hebron]

So much to tell today. I started out as usual, answering emails, making calls, running errands, etc. I picked Karam up and headed out to Hebron. There was a lot of fog and boy did that bring back memories from the last time I went back and forth to Hebron.

The road to Hebron is simply beautiful, with the exception of the settlements spreading down some of the hills. Posting some pictures here. All along Route 60, the hills are dotted with grape vines. el Khalil is known for it's grapes, pottery, and quarries. Once in the city, Karam took some pictures driving through the souq because it's utter chaos. I love it! there is only one rule: whomever gets there first has the right of way, whether in a car, on foot, a donkey, a horse, whatever; we're all on the street together fighting for space to move. Of course, horns sometimes blare and occasionally you might hear a curse here or there; otherwise, it's quite civilized and exciting. Vendors with fresh fruit and produce and just-out-of-the-oven bread and other baked goods line the street.

We were supposed to meet M. at 10 am, but he was a no show for a while. I was worried because he wasn't answering his phone, but he got hold of us eventually.

In the meantime, I drove into the Old City of el Khalil, near the Ibrahimi Mosque. I was pleasantly surprised to remember how to navigate my way through the maze of narrow corridor streets [pictured here].

Karam and I went into the offices of the Hebron Rehabilitation Committee to say hi to some folks and see about getting some equipment to Beit Anan. I spent some time talking with Emad Hamdan [director] about new locations, the equipment, and some recent issues in Hebron with the settlers. He gave me a couple of presentations that he had prepared and I'd like to show you a couple of pictures from those slides depicting the demolition of 500 year old Arab homes in the Old City so that settlers in Kiryat Arba can have a shortcut to the Ibrahimi Mosque [which they've pretty much taken over]. Some of you might recall Dr Brauch Goldstein, a settler from Kiryat Arba, who walked into the Ibrahimi Mosque in 1996 while worshipers were praying and he sprayed them with bullets until some were able to overpower him. Goldstein is revered in Kiryat Arba for this heroic act of killing Arabs in cold blood. Since then, the Ibrahimi Mosque has a metal wall running down the middle of it: one side for Jews, the other for Muslims. Anyone except settlers wishing to enter the mosque must go through the usual searches. In effect, the mosque has a checkpoint at the door!

[HEY GUYS..I'M REALLY BEAT. IT'S AFTER MIDNIGHT HERE AND I HAVE AN EARLY START TOMORROW TO NABLUS. I'M GOING TO SIGN OFF FOR NOW AND WILL TRY TO GIVE THE REST OF THE UPDATE ABOUT TODAY AND EXPLAIN THE REST OF THE PICTURES IN THE MORNING. I NEED FIVE HOURS OF SLEEP AND WILL BE READY TO ROLL.]

Back! It's about 6am here and I've had a couple of cups of coffee; life is good.


Oh, by the way, if anyone is actually reading this blog, will you please leave comments after the posts? So far, it appears my friend Naife is the only person seeing this [Thanks girlfriend! for leaving messages].

Jesus, i forgot that Sonia is coming in today; so, I have to talk to Shaher to see if we can go to Nablus and Jenin tomorrow. I think Sonia will enjoy going there too, anyway.

Back to yesterday. While I was in Hebron, I was able to get hold of a couple of guys who had helped me build the playground there and also the one in Nablus. Haitham is now working in Israel and can't help out this time, but Hamza [pictured in the baseball cap] is happy to oversee the installation of the playground in Beit Anan. He made a very good point, though: It's too damn cold to do it now! and he suggested we wait until March to put it together. I have to agree with him, but will talk to Sonia when she gets here.

[I just got off the phone with Shaher and was able to change our trip until tomorrow. He's going to talk to the NGO in Jenin to let them know. This is good also because I haven't been able to hold of Sol Jones and I want to pick her up in Nablus because she asked to meet people in Jenin. So, SOL, if you're reading this, call me! 52-68-20-393]


M. showed up at the HRC office and we went to his hometown village of Ezza. The landscape pictures I have here were taken on the way there and back. It's a remote village on the outskirts of el Khalil [Hebron] with rolling hills and lush valleys. I'm told that when the weather is clear in the Spring, from their house, you can see clear to the Mediterranean Ocean on Gaza's shore. Nice, eh?

Esperansa called while I was there and I had forgotten that we had agreed to get together. So, I had to bail out on her. This is another reason why I'm happy not to go to Nablus today. We can meet up today in Ramallah or Jerusalem.


So, on to M.'s house. His family home is a series of three or four houses [more like small mansions] where his parents, uncles and siblings live just on top of a hill. His family owns that whole area, but they aren't allowed to build anything on it. Instead, they can plant it; so they have fields of crops and grape vines cascading down all sides of the hill. Must be really something to wake up to that every day.

His mom had made Kabseh for us and she seemed very impressed by how much food I was able to shovel down my throat. I could have eaten more, but at some point, when everyone else was done eating, I got a little shy about filling up yet another plate full. But let me just say in my defense that it was my first meal of the day. M.'s little nephew is like a mini-me old man. Really funny kid. He let me take a picture of him after I begged several times then threatened to take a bad one and show it on the internet. I got to meet most of M.'s family and had a fantastic time. Once again, I had the pleasure of meeting more wonderful people and making new friends. Additionally, I got to see more of the countryside and visit a place I'd never been to before. This might not sound like such a big deal, but I seem to derive great enjoyment from this, and from driving through these hills of God.

On the way back, I called Muayad and we made a date to meet at the Ambassador Hotel. Karam was loving all this running around, btw. The previous day she had called into work with some excuse and yesterday she got someone else to take her shift. So, around 7pm, we all met up at the Ambassador. Muayad is a talented filmmaker who grew up in California. We came up with a pretty cool plan for a short film about PfP, the impact of playgrounds, and the general psychological state of children who live under military occupation. It'll be a while before we can pull it all together. But we have a plan and shall proceed accordingly.

The rest of the evening had little to do with PfP. There are a couple of people that I haven't gone to see yet, and I've been terribly embarrassed that I've been here this long without showing proper respect and visiting soon upon my arrival. So, as soon as i dropped Karam off, I stopped by my uncle Sasoon's house and had a nice time at their house. I actually lived with him and my aunt Intisar for one summer when I was young. He's my dad's cousin [and my mom's too - my parents are cousins]. Anyway, I was really happy to have that time with them. Uncle Sasoon is full of stories from the old days, before Israel conquered the West Bank and Jerusalem. And he has pictures of his grandfather [who would be my great great uncle]. He also has a couple of family birth certificates from the Ottoman Empire. Really cool stuff. More and more, I want to end up living here some day.

I also stopped at my cousin Mohammad's house. He has 7 kids and was in and out of jail during the first intifada for throwing stones. Once when we were young and he was walking me back from Dar el Tifl, he got into a fight with a soldier who decided to pick on me. He took a good beating so I could run off and hide. I thank him for that every time I see him.

So, after uncle Sasoon's house, we went to my cousin Kholood's. She has 6 kids and the youngest is a little terror. A really cute little terror who was still wide awake as I was falling asleep around 11:30pm. It had been a long day.

I'm going to get ready to go pick up Sonia from the airport. She has decided to have her own trip blog and i'll post that link later on. More to come...

Plan for today..

Off to Hebron and will later post pictures of the existing playground, plus photos of a potential new site there. Going back to Bethlehem to replace the playground location pictures that the IDF confiscated and to talk with Muayad about the documentary film for PfP. Tomorrow, I'm hoping to get pictures of the new site in Jenin for our Madison chapter. Judith is in full swing to raise funds for a playground in the refugee camp there. Wish me luck...

Beit Anan, Ramallah,Karam, M. and Shaher

Before I get into the details of this day of my trip, let me just say that I feel immensely happy here. I'm not sure what it is, but there is something very life-giving and uplifting about driving through the hills of Palestine that Israel has not gotten hold of. Life is not easy here, but it's precisely the difficulties that make small pleasures worth so much more. I've noticed this about people here. The slightest new freedom or small pleasure that most people take for granted, is a cause for happiness; and it's contagious to people like me..who ordinarily take too much for granted. I want to come here to live when my daughter goes to college.

Well, I finally got a memory card for my camera. Got up bright and early, answered emails, made calls, etc. I ran errands for some relatives, picked up my cousin Karam and went to Ramallah where I was supposed to meet up with M. and head to Beit Anan. We arrived a bit early; so, Karam and I walked around el Bireh a bit, bought some fatayer [spinach for me, cheese for her] for breakfast and waited. M. arrived and we headed out to see what has been done so far on location.

I love M., by the way. Every time I come here, I get to meet wonderful people like him and H. - something else lifting my spirits on this trip.
The road to Beit Anan is, as we say in Arabic, ma2sa! It rips your car to shreds. But, in my state of mind, I enjoyed the drive. Plus, what do I care, I have a rental and i'm sure as heck paying enough.

When we got to Beit Anan, as I feared, the holes had not been marked, nor was anyone working at the site as we expected. However, they had cleared the ground. That's good. The engineer arrived and I employed my best powers of persuasion to get them to start immediately. They agreed...but it started to rain pretty heavily. Actually, it was a hail storm. So, it'll be tomorrow...we're told.
M., Karam, and I headed back and I, once again, took in the landscape with such relish that I got us lost. But we figured it out [THEY figured it out] and made it back to Ramallah. I called Esperansa to meet us there so I could give back her camera [she let me borrow it yesterday since mine was useless without a memory card]. We went to a restaurant and waited there, but something came up and she couldn't come. M. and I enjoyed a sheesha and coffee, Karam some healthy fresh juice. Really great fun!
PLUS, my friend Shaher called to see if I happened to be in Ramallah because he was here from Jenin and it worked out great that he was able to join us! We made plans to meet on Friday in Nablus so we can go together to Jenin. I'm hoping to pick up a young woman named Sol from the Balata camp so she can come with us.
Sol is a very special person. She is a passionate advocate of human rights and feels particularly drawn to the Palestinian cause, enough that she decided to leave her hometown in Madison, Wisconsin and head to Palestine without really knowing anyone or Arabic. I haven't met her yet, but we've spoken on the phone. I'm looking forward to finally seeing her and I hope to introduce her to some people in Jenin, as she wants to work there as well. [See! I told you this place is full of amazingly wonderful people]
So, Karam and i dropped M. off at his house and we stopped at the same restaurant where we had breakfast, for a falafel sandwich on the way home.
Tomorrow is another busy day. I'm off to Hebron, then to Bethlehem. I need to figure out a way to get a special piece of digging equipment to Beit Anan. [fingers crossed!]

Kobar...

I spent most of the day in Kobar with my friend Esperansa and her family. Esperansa and I went to school together. Trying to get to Kobar was interesting. Getting past the Qalandia checkpoint was relatively easy; it only took half an hour to pass [compared with the usual several hours] because i left early in the morning. Once inside Ramallah, there were PA police everywhere. The main roads were closed and I got a call that there was some trouble in Kobar.
Apparently, the PA took a member of Hamas in for interrogation and he died while in their custody. It seems well known that he had heart trouble, but there was some question as to whether or not he was hurt or tortured by the PA. In any event, the funeral was to take place and the police were out in full force in the event there might be a confrontation between the two political factions. People were lining the road, standing on their balconies and roofs waiting for the procession for about a 60 mile stretch.
I drove on to Kobar. People pointed me in the right direction since the main roads were closed and I got to Esperansa's house by 10am. I had my cousin's son, Amir, with me. He's kinda like my own son since he came to live with me in the US for a while [and we're trying toget him to come back with me on this trip]. So, Amir and I stayed at Um Sami's house until late in the afternoon after things were safe enough to venture out.


It was great to see Esperansa [the one with the curly hair] and equally great to get a chance to hang out with her older sister, Samia, her brother, Sami, and her mom, Um Sami. Sami has three little girls, the youngest one in these pictures, Sadeen, and I became pals.

I'm happy to get this time to see friends, but I'm also frustrated by the fact that I can't get much work done on the playgrounds and simply have to wait. Tomorrow I'm taking a trip to Beit Anan and I sure as heck hope they've kept their word and we'll be ready to dig holes. Actually, I'm not leaving there until they figure out a way to get the holes dug tomorrow. It has to get done one way or another. Will keep you posted. In the meantime, here are some pictures from today.

Uneventful day, mostly planning

Today was uneventful. I spent some time on the phone with the engineer in Beit Anan going over the plans and playground layout because they're supposed to have the ground completely ready by Monday.

I made some calls to plan for a trip to Jenin and to Nablus. Got in touch with some friends, and finally got hold of Esperansa. I've been trying to reach her since I got here. Simply can't come here without seeing her at least for coffee, preferably at her house with her mom and siblings. I tried to get into Ramallah to see her, but when I got to the qalandia checkpoint, it was going to be at least three hours before I could get in. The line was really long and by the time I could get in, it would be dark and we couldn't spend much time together. So, tomorrow I'll be there bright and early, before the checkpoint gets crowded. Plus, she's not working, so I can just go straight to her house.

so, I went back to Jerusalem and decided to visit some of my cousins. I have to make the rounds to certain people every time I come. My cousin Rawya is one of those people. It turns out her sister and mother are here from Amman, visiting after a 33 year absence! So, I got an extra nice visit.

That's about it for today. The playground getting held up has really thrown me off track. I'm sure glad Sonia is coming when I leave.

I'm off to Ramallah tomorrow, and taking Rawya's daughter, Karam, with me. Karam is a sweetheart who works with a local NGO and i'm looking forward to getting to know her better. I plan to meet with a couple of other candidates for the intern position. For the rest of the week, I have planned a visit to Beit Anan to begin digging the post holes, a visit back to Bethlehem to check on the leveling of the ground, a visit to Jenin to check out a potential location for a new playground, a trip to Hebron to check on an existing playground and to see if I can get a couple of friends who helped me build playgrounds in the past to help out with the Beit Anan site; and finally, to visit Nablus, to see friends, visit a young woman who recently came from the States to work with Palestinian kids, and to check on our existing playground there. Then, i'm off to Amman, where I plan to cut my hair much shorter [i cut it shoulder length on the way in] and head back to Yardley through Heathrow. deep breath.

yesterday, part III:"'i'm not a spy!"

I got to the next to the last station of the terminal, went through the metal detector five times and was still beeping. Same thing happened to an old lady behind me. She didn't know what else to take off, and neither did I. Belt, earrings, shoes...took it all off. Was starting to think it was my underwire bra. I didn't want to take that off. I was annoyed. More so because the old lady was clearly in distress and clearly not very healthy. Whatever she took off next stopped her beeping, but mine didn't. I had my camera out and took a picture of the whole scene, for the blog. As I was trying to figure out what to take off next, the soldier in the booth was locking all the gates and calling for backup. I naively asked if he'd open the door after I stopped beeping, but he said I had to wait for his superiors because I am not supposed to take pictures. I did something stupid at this point, still not realizing that I had committed a crime by photographing the checkpoint. In the past, I had taken video footage of situations and even when soldiers would tell me "no picture", they wouldn't take away the film, but I'd just have to turn the camera off. I thought I was in a similar situation. So, i removed the memory card. In retrospect, this was a pretty stupid thing to do. But at the time, not knowing what they suspected i was doing, I was only thinking that the card had photos of my daughter on it and I instinctively wanted to protect her. Not sure from what at that point. But in general, there's something scary about people with really big guns, who definitely don't like you, to look at and possibly confiscate photos of your child. That's it folks. I thought it was going to be a situation like before, they'd just tell me 'no picture' make me shut things down and send me on my way.

To make a long story short, by the time I started to get a clue and produced the memory card, it was too late. They were already thinking that they had "caught a live one". One of the female soldiers became very belligerent and got pretty nasty and physical with me. She ordered me to shut up. Told me "welcome to America" and proceeded to tell me how clever Israelis were and that I was going to see what they'll do to me now. I was put inside a sound-proof vault, with very thick electric doors, wet floor, walls with scuff marks, hand prints, used latex gloves, and freezing cold. I tried not to think how all of those scuff marks had gotten on the walls or what those gloves had been used for.

There was a glass pane, several layers thick, on one of the vault doors, from which soldiers could look in on me. I could see them only when they turned the light on. They spoke to me through a speaker system in that room, mostly to ask me more questions, call me names and make fun of me for shivering with cold.

Initially, they had forgotten my bag with me and i was grateful to have that time alone to make a couple of calls to let some people know where I was. My friends called the US embassy here, but apparently those in charge at the checkpoint did not have much regard for the Consulate's concerns.

But soon, one of the vault doors began to move on its electric hinge and slowly open. One of the soldiers, who was particularly unpleasant [he sounded Russian], appeared on the other side. He told me I was not allowed to make calls and took all my bags and everything in my pockets. It was a moment of hope because I thought that they had probably received a call on my behalf and that's how they figured out that I had a phone in there.

But as the vault door shut completely, I sank into a crouch under the cold and a liquid of pure fear suffused every cell in my body. I looked at the dirty latex gloves, at the scuff marks and handprints, and started to imagine the worst. I wondered how long they were going to keep in that room. About an hour later, I was made aware of another problem, a big strike against me.

The Russian soldier [i'm making an assumption] along with another appeared in the window to ask me how I liked Lebanon. They were being sarcastic, of course. By the intent of their question, it would have been more accurately worded as the following statement: "aha, we got you now. we KNOW you spent time in Lebanon!"

duh. I told him Lebanon was beautiful and asked him if he had ever been. "No. And i don't want to" he said, turning off the light in their secret room so I could no longer see their faces. I heard his voice then ask if I was cold. "yes," I replied. "Aaaaaawe, ya haram" said the other and they laughed.

About another hour later, I was made aware of strike three against me. But in the meantime, I was trying very very hard not to dwell on my situation in that room. My insides become knotted up in an ineffably painful way when I feel I have no control over my own fate. When my freedom is taken away. When I looked at the vaulted doors and thought about the seclusion and isolation that i was in, or what was being planned for me on the other side of those doors, I felt my throat clog and my heart thrash in my chest like a caged wild beast. So I curled more into my crouch, closed my eyes, and chanted a prayer that my friend Barbara had taught me. She lived in an Ashram in India for over a decade and I've been trying to learn to manifest some of the calmness she exudes.

I missed Natalie with an unfathomable yearning to hug and kiss her. I thought about recent difficulties in my life. I thought about the playgrounds. I replayed the events of the past few hours and how I would have done things differently had I known how seriously they took the taking of photographs. I thought about my dog Gypsy and my cat Onika. I recalled that the memory card had some pictures of her in one of those lazy fat cat poses. I replayed some of Natalie's proud moments playing soccer when she had scored some of her best goals. I wondered again how long I would be there. My toes had gone numb. I stood up to jog in place to get the blood flowing. But that brought my situation to the forefront of my mind, so I crouched again.

The Russian soldier came in with a new soldier, apparently a senior officer, who carried my camera. He turned it to show me a particular picture on the memory card and wanted to know what it was. I looked at it and said "it's a TEMS machine" [transdermal electrical muscle stimulation machine that I had purchased years ago after my knee surgery to help strengthen muscles in my right leg].

"What is this?" he asked and i explained the utility of the device. "It's operated by a 9-volt battery" I told him.

"These are electrodes" he said, pointing to the electrodes.

"That's correct, and that's what you stick to you skin above the muscle you want to strengthen" i answered.

"This looks like a bomb" he said.

My heart fell to the floor, right there on that wet, nasty, latex-glove-bearing floor. "it isn't a bomb," was all I could muster out of my mouth. The gravity of my situation was pressing hard on head. The officer was clearly not convinced.

"I took pictures of it because I was trying to sell it on ebay," I added. Actually, I was selling it on Craig's list, but I figured he'd recognize eBay. Luckily, I had pictures of a few other benign items as well for the same purpose. Still, I don't think it helped my case much. I could see in their eyes that they still thought they had caught someone important.

They left, the eerie sound of the electric door closing then sealing shut followed and I spent the next few hours shooing away awful thoughts, trying to clear the knot in my throat and in my stomach, chanting quietly that prayer, missing Natalie, shivering and wanting to be home.

The door opened again and i was summoned to leave. I almost didn't care where they took me, I was so glad to leave the vault. Good bye latex glove, i hope i never see you again. Two soldiers led me through a maze of corridors and finally into an office, where I met Captain Yuri. He was very friendly, ordered some tea for me, asked how I liked my stay with them thus far, told me with a lovely smile that we had all week to chat. "All week?"; "yes, why? you don't like it here?"; "no"; "I'm kidding. But only a little."

Heart fell again. But at least i wasn't in the vault.

Yuri wanted to know my life story. Didn't understand why I didn't live with my mother or father growing up. I told him I didn't either. He wanted to know where i went in Bethlehem and asked if I was Christian after I told him that i had gone to Dar Annadwa to build a playground. "No" I answered. "Muslim, then," he concluded. "No," I corrected. "Then what?" Nothing really. "What were you born?" "A clean slate" I said. [by the way, most of our conversation was in Arabic]. But he was an amiable guy and didn't take offense, nor was I trying to offend, really. Just trying to answer honestly. "Why don't you believe?" he asked, "What happened in your life that made you lose hope," he continued with that assumption.

"nothing happened and I haven't lost hope. I'm still hopeful, for example, that you'll figure out what a mistake you've made holding me like this."

He smiled and repeated his question.

"well, i'll answer ta ht if you tell me why it is that you do believe."

"that's a good question," he said and he moved on to another topic of questioning.

He asked lots more and wanted to know the names of everyone i've ever lived with, loved, or associated with. He had no interest, however, in Gypsy or Onika.

He had been writing with a green pen and asked me deep into the interrogation if I knew why he used that color. I looked at him and he repeated his request that I ask him. So I did.

"because I am with Hamas and Hizbollah," he said.

Yeah right. and he read the 'yeah right' look on my face. I asked him to cut to the chase. What was he suggesting.

Mind you, I'm pretty freaking slow on the uptake. Sometimes I amaze myself how slow I am. It's more that I'm just naive. I still thought I was being held for taking pictures and that was apparently a crime here. I also knew that they were more suspicious of me because of the TEMS machine and because i had been to Lebanon. But Yuri was about to explain how precarious my situation was.

"You are spying for Hamas or Hizbollah and this is very serious trouble."

Heart dropped below the floor. The sky dropped on my head. The moon, too, dropped on my head. I think the ceiling also. lots of stuff fell on my head. Eyes went blurry. But i know i didn't flinch. I could feel how tight my neck muscles were and thought how sore they were going to be when this was all over.

"You're wrong," is what i said. I wasn't about to start swearing that i was innocent of the charges. I knew that was pointless. I started to feel resigned to my fate. I thought the F-bomb in my head. This was not a situation to say it out loud. I just decided that Yuri was good at what he does and he'd figure out that I was telling the truth eventually. But I thought I'd have to spend some more time in the vault.

Yuri suggested that I go and visit a young Israeli boy by the name of Osher Twito whose leg was severed from a Kassam rocket from Gaza and write a report about him. He asked if I thought it was right that such should be the fate of an 8 year old boy. Of course I said no, and reminded him that such should not be the fate of any child. He then wanted to tell me the difference between hurting a Palestinian child versus an Israeli child, but I didn't listen. i tuned him out. It was the whole moral distinction argument. But in my mind, there is no difference. I explained that I was a mother and would wish no such thing on a child or mother regardless of their faith, politics, or whatever.

Yuri and I are quite far apart in our beliefs, our politics, our understanding of history, justice and international law [we touched briefly on all these things], but for whatever it's worth, I liked Yuri despite myself. He's originally from Yemen. For a while he didn't believe me and insisted that I needed to give him a truthful answer about why i was taking pictures. All I could do was tell him the truth. And that's what i did. I started to imagine what they were going to do to me in order to get a more convincing answer, and what would finally make them believe me because i didn't think i could really make up a convincing answer if i tried!

After another eternity [possibly an hour] Yuri seemed satisfied that I had told him the truth. That I had gone to Lebanon for my sister's wedding [he needed names on that end too] and that the TEMS machine was in fact what i said it was and the ad was there on Craig's list for anyone to see on the internet. But he said that he was going home and someone after him would decide my fate. There were three possibilities: 1. imprisonment over night followed by deportation. 2. immediate deportation without the possibility of returning; or 3. simple release. He asked if I needed anything before he left. I asked to use the ladies room. I was afraid of what was to come and wanted to be sure that I wouldn't have to worry about bodily functions for a while.

In about another hour, as I sat amidst soldiers on their food break [the mean Russian soldier had softened and asked me if I wanted some water. Then another asked if I wanted to eat.]

Finally, the same female soldier called my name, handed me my things, explained that they were keeping my memory card and they led me outside. I've never been so happy to see sky before and never felt the taste of my own freedom as i did at that moment. I know this all sounds dramatic, and it's truly an iota of what many Palestinians experience here, but this was my experience and this is how I felt.

I walked out thanking every angel and every God i could think of. I called friends back to let them know I was released, called Natalie.

I have to buy a new memory card today and take pictures of the Bethlehem playground site again.

yesterday, part II: Dar Annadwa

Off I went to the Bethlehem checkpoint. I started taking pictures for the blog as soon as I approached the terminal in order to convey the difficulty and sheer humiliation of trying to move in and out of Bethlehem [or any other part of the WB, for that matter]. I had about 10 or so pictures, of the multiple turnstiles, the endless lanes [similar to what you see at amusement parks and equally long], soldiers behind bullet proof glass, x ray machines...you get the picture.

No one said anything to me about the pictures, I walked through [i wasn't allowed to drive my car into Bethlehem; had to park it outside], hopped a taxi and called Maha [engineer extraordinaire and a new friend] on the way. She was waiting for me when i got there and we went straight to the site. We had the drawings, maps, measuring tape, etc. and figured out the best spot on the new nature reserve. Of course, I took some pictures there, too. The location is on top of a hill, so, again, the view was breath-taking. You could see clear to the Jordan border and I was told that on some days, you can even see the Dead Sea from there. Rolling hills dotted with homes that have nestled within the landscape [in contrast to the large settlement developments that carve off and violate the hills to accommodate building plans].

Anyway, I got a chance to survey the location and to chat with Maha a bit more. She and I got a bit of a workout too going up and down that hill. Finally, we left in her car so she could drop me off at the terminal.

A note about the Wall: it is really truly obscene. In some places, you can avoid seeing it, but not if you venture to the main road to anywhere in Bethlehem. For many homes, what used to be a view of rolling hills, green valleys, and adjacent towns, is now a vulgar grey cement slab. some homes are circled on all three sides. It's worse than any maximum security prison wall, with ominous watch towers interspersed along its length. When you look at it, it feels like the hand of a dark angel covers your heart. I understood [partly at least] what Maha meant when she said it was suffocating.

Maha was kind enough to drive me all the way to the walkway into the terminal. I got my camera out to take pictures of the walk back through the endless maze of that terminal, thinking i'd get back to my cousin's house within the hour, have a hot meal, update the blog with all the pictures I took and head on to see a couple of friends whom I've been wanting to see since i got here. Boy was I wrong...

yesterday, part I: Staff meeting in Jerusalem

Ok...so, here's yesterday's story, i'll break it up into parts. Part I, fun. Part II, still fun, Part III, not so fun.

I went to the ANERA weekly staff meeting, took lots of pictures for the blog. It was great to see everyone. I took a picture of the whole group around the conference table as each person updated the group about their work for the week. There were lots of new faces and some familiar ones and it was great to see everyone. I really missed seeing Tom. Tom's replacement was a delight and it was great to meet him and listen to his charming Irish accent.

Following the meeting, I went out with a couple of the women there to pick up some breakfast food. We brought it back and all of us ate together, standing up in the kitchen. I took pictures of that for the blog as well.

So, far, my day was lovely and shaping up nicely. I left the ANERA office in perfect time to make it to Dar Annadwa to inspect the site better, now that the ground had dried and we could make some measurements to pick the best spot for it. I was feeling pretty good, especially since I hadn't gotten lost driving by myself yet. For those of you who are unfamiliar with my sense of direction, suffice it to say that after ten years, i still get lost in Philly sometimes.

Thank you to everyone who made calls on my behalf

I will write more tomorrow, but for now, I want to express my very deep gratitude to everyone who was concerned and who made calls on my behalf to the American embassy here. Being held and questioned by the IDF, trying to convince them that I wasn't a spy was truly truly frightening. Natalie had made a "shield neclace" for me before I left [it's something we do everytime i come here] and I held onto that as if for dear life to keep from being scared out of my mind. Of course, the worst scenrios were running through my mind, but in the end, the best outcome is what i got - they let me go. I have to thank Captain Yuri while I'm at it. He actually listened to what I was saying [in stark contrast to those who questioned me before him] and let me go. A word of advice to anyone going through those new terminals [checkpoints] DO NOT take pictures! apparently, it's illegal. Wish they had just put up a sign to that effect, I might have obeyed THAT rule.
...more tomorrow about what happened today before i was detained.
hugs,
susie

As I drink a cup from that endless supply of fresh coffee

It's 8am here and I'm off to ANERA's office for their weekly staff meeting. I always make at least one of these every time I come because its the only time I get to see everyone in one place. Plus, Rabah Odeh usually brings sweets from Nablus with him [special chocolate covered treats only made in Nablus]. I plan to go to Bethlehem afterward to meet with a guy [Muayad] who has agreed to help us with a short documentary film about PfP. Will also finally meet up with Fares and hopefully get to see my good friend Esperansa in Ramallah. more later...

Going to Beit Anan

My day started a bit late today. I was up until the wee hours last night updating the website and preparing the newsletter; so, I slept in. It doesn't matter when I get up in this house, there seems to always be a fresh pot of coffee! But what do you care, right?

I got to the Qalandia checkpoint without much fuss and on time. H. and M. were waiting for me and we drove off toward Beit Anan. Actually, we went four-wheeling toward Beit Anan [seriously bumpy road].


Let me tell you, though: The landscape was something to behold. I took a few pictures, but they don't do it justice. It was really lovely.

We made it there about an hour later at 1pm, but we were an hour early. So, we decided to get a bite to eat since all three of us were starving. The locals laughed at us when we asked them to point us toward a restaurant. One guy invited us to eat with his family. H. suggested that a small shawerma place might do well in the Beit Anan [note to self...].


Anyway, we settled on a baqalleh [small store], got some bread, labaneh, and hummus, and had a little picnic before heading back to the NGO to go over the playground plans.


There's a certain beauty in the way that nothing ever seems to go as planned here. Or at least as I plan. So, I wasn't all that upset when I saw that the ground hadn't been cleared and leveled as it was supposed to have been before my arrival. I just look upset in the picture. But really, life is good. The landscape was so uplifting to me, nothing could have bothered me today, certainly not there. Besides, Sonia will be here when I leave. So, I know the work will get done and someone from PfP will cut the ribbon.

The leadership program

What a group of intellectual, talented, delightful, warm, and motivated young people! I wasn't sure what to expect when Mitri asked me to talk with them. He gave me no direction or topic, just told me to 'talk'.


As it turned out, it was a pleasure. Mitri had asked me to talk with his group for their benefit. I'm not sure what I was able to give to them, but they certainly inspired me, and I left feeling very proud to know them, and quite happy at the end of the day, even though I had to go through that damn terminal again [twice! because I left my journal at one of the security checks...but that's another story]

Something about being here that touches me in a special way. Perhaps its the romantic notion of my homeland that I carry in my heart and manifest in my mind here. Maybe seeing the magnitude of the injustice so close reaches something deeper inside of me. It's certainly humbling to see the perserverance and steadfastness with which people here live. Mostly, it's just inspiring to see how hope and beauty still bloom even under the darkest of circumstances. Like the group of young men and women I met today. Things aren't perfect here, not by a long stretch. But I feel quite proud to come from such a people, such a culture, and such a place.

Dr Rev Mitri Raheb

For those of you who don't know the Rev Mitri, he's nothing short of a miracle. He had a vision in 1997 for Dar al Kalima, laid it out on a map of a hill in Bethlehem, and has gone about building it since. On that hill now sits a K-12 school, a senior center, and a wellness center complete with services in psychotherapy, endocrinology, primary care, audiology, opthomology, physical therapy, a pool, fitness center, and more. They received accreditation for a college of fine arts and run successful programs in documentary filmmaking, folk crafts, jewelry making, to name a few. In the words are two new buildings to will house and expand the college; and a nature reserve of all trees native to Palestine.

There's a lot more going on at Dar al Kalima, but it's hard to keep up with Mitri. He's usually ten steps ahead of us mere mortals. But you can learn more at http://annadwa.org/

OK. So, we got to Dar al Kalima and Mitri treated me to a fantastic meal in their in-house restaurant. We got a chance to catch up over lunch and then he gave me a tour of what had been under construction the last time I had been there.

The building is beautiful with an open design of floor to ceiling windows that look out on a landscaped terrace with outdoor seating. The newer aspects of construction are nicely integrated into the older stone building with its narrow spiraling stairways and low hanging doors and archways.

I got a chance to see the design of the new nature reserve and look at the potential sites for the new playground. Maha, a civil engineer and another miracle patriot at Annadwa, went over the playground design with me so we could discern the best location for it. I'll post photos soon.

The best part was yet to come. Turns out that Mitri has also started a leadership training program for young Palestinian men and women in Bethlehem [I don't think Mitri sleeps] and he asked if I would stay and talk with the group. Of course, I was honored,

Going to Bethlehem

I made plans to meet with Rev Mitri today at noon. It took me a bit longer than i expected to rent a car and get down to Bethlehem's main checkpoint, which I last visited a couple of years ago. I got there around 1pm and was utterly shocked. I had heard about the new 'terminal' and had even seen pictures of it, but none of that prepares you for the sheer cruelty of it. It's a maze of one-way lanes, turnstiles, bullet-proof glass, x-ray machines, loud speakers, and soldiers and more soldiers, of every variety: bored, surly, patronizing, efficient, don't want to be there, Russian, Ashkenazi, Sephardic, blonde, brunette, goofy-hat-wearing and gum-smacking, you name it.

And of course, the heart-breakingly long long lines of Palestinians - young, old, tired, impatient, desperately-needing-a-cigarette, hazy-eyed, men, women, students, shoppers, workers.

There was no handicap access; so, only able-bodied individuals can get in and out of the prison that is Bethlehem.

It was even worse when I finally made it through the damn terminal. That menace of a wall..that evil cement iced with barbed wire that snakes everwhere in and around Bethlehem...it was so much more awful up close. Again, I knew the stories and had seen the pictures. But it's quite different to see how ominous it really is, with the round guard towers spread along its length. It's far worse than what I saw of the Warsaw ghetto. One cannot help but be reminded of the adage that history repeats itself.

I walked a bit down the main street, now split by the wall, and called Mitri to pick me up, as we planned.

Bad news and snow

I started making calls immediately after hanging a bit with my cousins and their kids. Friends, Family, and calls related to the new installations. There's always one problem or another. H. gave it to me straight. It turns out that although we had written approval for both sites, one of them was not actually approved. The Beit Anan site was okay, but the site in Silwad, a school for handicaped children, was apparently still under review for "security." [I wish I had a dollar for every time I have to hear or read that word around here.]

In the meantime, storage costs at the port were piling up and we had to act quick and find another site that we knew would get quick approval. My first thought was to call my dear friend Dr Rev. Mitri Raheb. He's actually everyone's dear friend, but since this is my blog, I reserve the liberty to accentuate and exaggerate. The Rev and I go way back in the hood!

Mitri had a perfect spot for it in Bethlehem, so we submitted Dar al Kalima as the alternate site instead of Maysoon's kids School, the original recipient, and waited.

Snow fell and life came to a quiet standstill. It was cold. And in such a climate, my bones creak and body generally does not function properly. So, I stayed put with the rest of humanity here, sat by the heater, ate bizzir and all the good food that Laila made for me, and made a bunch of calls to map out the coming days when the whole half inch of snow melted.

The next day, H. called to let me know that we got approval for Mitri's new playground. It will be one week before we get it to the site. I decided I'd at least get the ground digging under way.

Jordan to Jerusalem

I got to Jordan on the 14th as planned, but didn't cross the Allenby that day. Instead, I stayed in Amman [that's another story] and left on Sunday, the 16th. I was supposed to call my cousin, Adel, to start driving toward the bridge from Jerusalem as soon as I cleared the Jordanian side, which I did pretty quickly, so he'd be there in time as I emerged from the Israeli side. The bus ride across was uneventful and I called Adel as planned. But all sorts of fun awaited me on the Israeli side that I had to call him back to let him know that i'd make my own way to his house as soon as I could. After five hours of waiting, being questioned endlessly, mumbling unseemly curses under my breath and thinking evil thoughts about a particularly smug Israeli officer, they handed me passport and told me to "go". I held my breath at this point, not knowing which direction I'd be going in, back to Amman or forward to Palestine. I must have had a stupid, clueless look on my face because the Israeli officer [the particularly smug one] matched my look with one even more stupid.

I broke the impasse, "go?"

"Go," she reiterated, apparently annoyed that I didn't get it the first time. But she simultaneously waved me in the direction I was headed, so I went with the flow. woo hooo... i thought [that's a natural reflex thought after soldiers hold you captive for hours on end asking you ridiculously irrelevant and very personal questions]. so, i'm thinking woo hooo, when my elation comes to a screeching halt by a man soldier.

"wait, wait" he said. pronounced weet weet [and believe me, he looked like a bird, too].

"what now? they told me i could go" I protested, annoyed enough now that I couldn't help but show it.

"weet," he said, as if I hadn't heard the first tweet tweets, and grabbed my passport from my hand. He conferred with another soldier and came back to tell me to "sit down."

"I've been sitting down all day. What do you need now?" I said,with the meanest face I could muster [it's pretty bad]

"Security," he said...and that did it for me. I sat down with a huff and the F-BOMB! yep. I said it.

A note of caution about the F-bomb around Israeli soldiers: do not try it at home, it makes them mad and as they generally have control over your fate (Palestinians only), you have to use it with extreme caution. As a rule of thumb, if you're a man, you should never use it, unless you just don't give a damn what they do afterward. If you're a woman, use your intuition.

This time, it worked. I felt better and bird soldier brought my passport back and told me to "go."

I went, bought a bus ticket and waited for enough passengers so we could take off.
woo hooo

I left Amman at 9am, left the Jordanian side of the bridge by 11am, and here it was 6pm and I arrived in Jerusalem at the bus station near Babel Amoud. I grabbed my luggage, hopped on the bus to el Tur, and walked into my cousin's house by 6:30pm to a hot meal of grape leaves and stuffed zuccini that his wife, Laila, had made just for moi!

It was good to finally be here.

The Plan

I [susie] was to arrive February 14th and leave on the 28th, one day after Sonia was to arrive to take over where I left off. Two playgrounds were to be installed; one in Beit Anan, the other in Silwad. After having waited several months, we got approval from Israel for both sites....or so we thought.