It's still surreal.

August 9, 2008
-"Every time I walk to Hebrew class and survey the view overlooking Jerusalem, the golden dome on the Dome of the Rock winks from the distance. Yet, I still feel as though I’m looking through a screen, and the whole experience is just surreal."

Finally made it to the Dome of the Rock and al-Aqsa today.

















Look at how excited I was-I subconsciously even dressed in the same colors!

















And I still can't stop smiling.


I know I haven't updated in a while..my heart just hasn't been up to it.

The Apartment Pariah

I consider myself to be of the moderate-Left in Israeli politics.

To my consternation, my roommates asked me before hanging up an Israeli flag in the living room if it was all right. The Palestinian flag graces my desktop partly because it just looks so cool.

And I never understood how people could get so worked up over politics.

So much has happened today. This morning Israel attacked Gaza with air strikes killing more than 200 people and counting. As I read the paper, some part of my brain wondered what kind of retaliation this first attack would bring.

This afternoon, as I set out on my post-Shabbat dinner mandatory jog, I noticed plumes of black smoke near the Hebrew U campus. As it is on my usual route anyway, I figured I would run into the source sooner or later. I didn't think it was anything serious as cars zoomed past in their normal fashion and the usual few people strolled along the streets.

I didn't end up running into the source as it was further away than I had expected, but instead along the course of my jog, I kept hearing mini-explosion sounds coming from the east. Then I noticed through my headphones several sirens as police cars and ambulances rushed toward the Arab villages in East Jerusalem. I thought I was crazy as I looked around to gauge other people's reactions, but no one else seemed to be phased by it. Israelis. Then I saw another great plume of smoke coming from the Shuafat RC area as helicopters droned overhead. Something was definitely wrong.

My roommates and I frantically tried to get any news on what was going on as we realized this was Palestinians in the West Bank and East Jerusalem rioting in response to what had occurred in Gaza this morning. Unfortunately we don't have a t.v., and for some reason, there was and as I write this post, continues to be no news on what happened earlier tonight in Jerusalem.

As we all congregated in one of my roommate's rooms with our laptops propped open furiously checking all the news websites, I wondered aloud if most of the people killed in the Israeli attack were civilians or security personnel. One of my roommates matter-of-factly said "They were all security personnel." To which, I retorted, "That is most definitely not true. Civilians are dead."

-"Well, they [Palestinians] put their weapons in libraries, hospitals, schools, etc."

-"And Israel still struck them."

My other roommates looked a little shocked by my response as one explained that the majority of the dead were Hamas security while there were also civilian deaths. Then one by one, everyone filed out of the room, and soon I was left in an awkward silence with only the room's inhabitant. I got up and left too. As soon as I left, they all went back in and closed the door behind them.

Perhaps I was a little too abrupt-too aggressive. Maybe I could have been more diplomatic and tried to be funny about it. No, I couldn't have. People are dead-and these people include innocent men, women, and children. There's no use in playing the blame game I realize, and I'm not sure what exactly makes me so upset.

But this is not the point of the post.

My roommate and I don't even live here; we don't suffer the way Israelis and Palestinians suffer here on a daily basis from the occupation and from terrorism. Yet, we get so impassioned by the politics that embroil this city, this country, this region. I couldn't understand how Israelis and Palestinians in Jerusalem could live side-by-side everyday without really talking to each other. And now, I understand, sometimes it's just easier to walk away and ignore the other side than get into the politics.

Dangerous Tomfoolery

I have a problem.
I need to stop being so foolhardy.



On Wednesdays, I end class by noon.

Instead of mulling about in my room wasting time by taking extended naps and reading random blogs or laying outside on the grass to watch the clouds roll by, today, I decided to be a little less sedated than usual and be a little more adventurous.

I found this wonderful site: www.jerusalemp3.com where you can download mp3 files for self-guided walking tours throughout Jerusalem. I downloaded the Mount of Olives tour because it begins right by the university campus, and it includes many Christian pilgrimage sites that I've wanted to visit but never got around to doing.

After a quick glance at the map, I decided the route was straightforward enough, and if it wasn't I could probably find my way with signs. I took my routine nap and set out at around 3 PM with my mp3 blaring away in my ears and a taser my brother got for me from his travels in Cambodia tucked safely in my pocket.

-----
Since I've been in Jerusalem, I've heard from several Israelis as well as other Rothberg students who've been heckled around here that walking around East Jerusalem is not safe.

But whenever I hear someone say that he/she would never walk even to the Arab quarter of the Old City or around East Jerusalem because he/she is Israeli or a Jew, I always scoff a little at their exaggerated fear.

To be quite honest, a lot of the time, this fear seems completely unjustified and exacerbated by group-think bordering on collective hysteria.

For instance, my friend's Israeli roommate unabashedly stated that she was afraid to study at the Mount Scopus campus of Hebrew U because there are so many Arab students. She must not know that almost all of them are Arab-Israelis, and I can safely say that none of them are terrorists.

Or my Israeli friend who was appalled that I would consider going to Ramallah to watch a once-in-a-lifetime hip hop concert because it's so dangerous (should I have put that in quotes?)- and I didn't even end up going because the person I was supposed to go with was too nervous.

Every time I hear someone say something like this, I think, what a terrific job the media has done to portray Arabs and Palestinians as villains.

Even so, I too have had a bad experience around East Jerusalem on a nightly run when I was chased by two men screaming at me in Arabic. So just as a precaution, I tested my taser before embarking on my tour and felt more confident every time I felt it bump against my hand. Of course, I have never used it and hope I will never have to.
-----

I took the route that I used to run to get to the starting point of the tour, and it was the first time I'd been back since the incident I just described. I got to the second site no problem, but then I somehow ended up somewhere I didn't feel completely comfortable in. I was in a part of East Jerusalem I'd never ventured before, but I knew I couldn't have taken a wrong turn-there was nowhere to turn towards!

I fingered my taser as I walked through a dillapidated Arab village and scolded myself for feeling nervous. On my right was a muddy plot with two horses that I decided must be a soccer field because I noticed two rusting metal contraptions that served as goals, and there were kids and teenagers hanging around in groups waiting for their turn to ride two horses milling about the field.

The streets and stores were relatively empty for the afternoon (though now I'm realizing that it's a Muslim holiday week), but there were a few kids running around and some grandfathers walking with their grandchildren.

Of course I stuck out in this scanty crowd, but I would not allow myself to turn around. I would not be a coward and reconfirm their incredulity and admit that I did not belong. I held my head high and kept walking down the street ignoring the men calling out of their speeding cars asking if I was lost or needed help.

Even if I was lost, I would not satisfy anyone's claims that I was turning around because I was afraid to be walking in an Arab neighborhood that was certainly no Ben-Yehuda promenade. I would debunk the "all Arabs are terrorists" myth and prove to myself and anyone else that East Jerusalem is perfectly safe.

Then I stopped dead in my tracks and whirled around gasping an "ohmygod" under my breath.

About 30 feet in front of me, a group of teenage boys shoved another boy against a gate as another boy (who I had passed by earlier) put a gun to his head.

Mid-turn I saw him pull the trigger and heard a faint pop that definitely could not have belonged to a real gun. Regardless, I wondered frantically to myself if that were a real gun, was I really trying to walk away nonchalantly? If he wanted to shoot me, I wouldn't have been able to dodge the bullet.

They must have noticed my abrupt movement and started calling out to me. My hotheaded pride kept me from running, but it also kept me from responding to them.

As I speed-walked back the way I came, I noticed that there were still young children running around and parents with their kids. Even reassessing the situation and realizing that what I had just witnessed was probably a game or prank at best and a sick example of bullying at its worst, I was shaken. Then I was disappointed with myself that I did not even consider helping the victim.

On the walk home my frustration was heightened by an unwanted suitor. I was upset that I had turned around without even reattempting to find the third site of the tour. I was angry that I had validated the fear of East Jerusalem and reconfirmed that as a woman, I should not walk around by myself. And most of all, I was disenchanted with the violence that has pervaded and become the norm in Palestinian youth culture.

No wonder then, that the hip hop artists I've met through my internship are so earnest in their claim that the mic is their weapon of choice.


A picture I took of toy guns for street-side sale in Turkey against the backdrop of a mosque.

Relevant note: gun-toting soldiers and security guards (sometimes in civilian clothes) are the norm in Israel. I think the only reason why gun-toting teens and young boys disturb me so much is because a gun is not and should never be mistaken as a child's toy.

Update for Mom

It's been a while since I've last posted, and for that, I apologize.

Since I last wrote, a lot and not much has really happened-

Classes are getting more demanding as this weekend beckons midterm exam week; paper topics are being discussed before my typical procrastination scramble begins; the countdown to going home has begun (just 7 weeks!), and I'm realizing I have yet to do so much here; the weekends are flying by in a surreal haze; and already I'm starting to miss Jerusalem.

During the past few weeks:

I visited Yad Vashem-the Israeli Holocaust Museum one cold, rainy afternoon and left with a heavy heart and a strange sense of shock at the speed of the human heart's desensitization

I was supposed to go to the DAM concert in Ramallah and the Saz concert in Bethlehem, but both trips were unsuccessful

I went to a lecture held by Rashid Khalidi about "The Nakba and the Palestinian Identity" during which he spoke about the second Nakba that Palestinians are currently mired in. He sharply criticized the ineffectivity of the Palestinian Authority, which he lambasted as worse than ineffective because it is in fact harming the Palestinian cause and community.

(Rashid Khalidi on the right answering a question. edit: Khalidi is actually on the left.)

Khalidi explained that the Palestinians have suffered and continue to suffer a series of traumas, yet they are unable to be the masters of their own narrative. He lamented the failure of the true Palestinian narrative to be accepted in the U.S., while someone in the crowd asked how it would be possible to change this when the U.S. was the reason for all of Palestine's troubles (I don't agree). Most interestingly, Khalidi advocated the route of non-violence because in these specific circumstances, violence is counter-productive because it reinforces the Jewish narrative/history of anti-semitism and ideology upheld in both Israel and the U.S.

I celebrated my birthday with wonderful friends and five nights of three hours of sleep each.

My friends treated me out to dinner at a really wonderful Moroccan restaurant. Brought back nice memories.


































This afternoon, I went on a tour of East Jerusalem with Ir Amim-where we visited Palestinian villages marred by the lack of government funds (due to the fact that many are not represented in the local government because they choose not to vote because voting is an acknowledgement of Israeli jurisdiction) and by the "separation wall", "security fence", "envelope", call it what you will.


Our tour guide was such an honorable man-a proud Israeli and veteran who acknowledged the problems of the Israeli government's treatment of the Palestinians within Jerusalem. He described it best by telling us that Sharon once said that "Palestinians never lose the opportunity to lose an opportunity", yet "Israelis make the mistake of making mistakes". (edit: and "a mistake that succeeds is still a mistake" - Asher Ginzberg)


Just a few words about the wall: I'm not going to answer whether or not I am for it or against it.

The fact is that it is doing its job. Since it was erected, the number of suicide bombings and other attacks have decreased dramatically. Since it was erected, Israel has been under even greater global scrutiny for human rights offenses. Standing next to it and touching it is chilling and humbling. Looking up at its pockmarked facade, I am able to sympathize with the Palestinians, yet my heart ached when I heard our tour guide's voice shake as he confessed he did not have the heart to read what was written upon the wall.

































Tonight, I went to an orthodox Jewish Shabbat dinner and had an interesting discussion about why it is that Israel's birth caused such a global stir. Our host argued that it was because the world anticipated Israel's future role as a beacon of morality for the world. He also claimed that unfortunately, society has forgotten this ideal-perhaps this is the reason for the lack of peace? I had never heard this perspective before-I always believed Israel's birth made world headline news because of the issue with Palestinian refugees and the wars that followed.

And still, our weekly tradition of Shabbat dinner together continues-

Shabbat dinner with friends. Don't worry, mom. I promise I'm not starving.

As inconvenient as everything shutting down (including public transportation) on Shabbat has been, I think I will miss this the most.













Here are two views of the dome of the rock from West and East Jerusalem. The one where the Dome is closer is from the Mount of Olives-note all the graves.

The Palestinian Fatalism

It's election day!

Unfortunately, since I'm 7 hours ahead of the action, by the time I wake up, everything will be decided-the new president of the United States will be declared. (Unless ballots go missing, or machines start breaking down and dropping or switching votes, or someone demands a recount and sues the other, or etc. )

There's a lot of buzz here in Israel-it's almost as if the Israelis know more about the elections than a lot of the American students around here. And relevantly, here's a funny article I saw in the NYT.

It seems that the rest of the world has more at stake in these elections than Americans do.

"When America catches a cold, the rest of the world gets the flu."

Anyway, last time I wrote about the idea of fatalism in Israel and really only focused on the Israeli attitude. Coincidentally, the next day, I went to the Givat Ram campus of Hebrew University, which is located in West Jerusalem to go do some research for my internship in the UN archives. While I was flipping through random sources, I came upon a UNICEF booklet titled: "Palestinian Children in the Labor Market".

Especially around East Jerusalem, it's fairly common to see young Palestinian boys usually around 11-16 years old in the middle of the roads offering their windshield wiping services or selling packs of tissues to temporarily stopped cars. It's hard enough to see children doing this and even harder when you know they should be going to school instead but most of them don't have a choice because they're trying to help their poor families.

One time I witnessed a particularly disheartening scene when I was waiting to cross the street, and the usual Palestinian boys were there. One boy with a bucket was waiting for the man inside a car to pay him while the car behind was honking and screaming in an unnecessary rage of impatience because the light had just turned green. As the car drove by the boy, the man inside yelled something at the boy. After a second, the boy in response kicked his plastic bucket into the air as his younger companion watched helplessly as it shattered into a million shards onto the pavement. They couldn't have been older than 14 years old.

I remembered this scene when I found this booklet, and as I was flipping through it, I happened upon a section under the topic of "Pessimism and Fatalism".

It described,
"These feelings are widespread and reflect a general state in society...The folowing statements reflect the severity of the problem:

• We live a desperate life.
• Surely we will die as martyrs.
• I feel I am going to die when I am 20 years old.
• We live in a cemetery.
  
• I wish martyrdom.
  
• I wish martyrdom or invasion comes.
• Death is better than this life.
  

These statements confirm that political and social violence, which children are subjected to, absence of national freedom and the difficult economic circumstances negatively impact the psychological aspect of children and make them depressed. Some of them do not try to improve the quality of their lives and consider salvation beyond their capacity. These feelings lead to actions considered by society as immoral-such as: smoking and chasing after women"

-Birzeit University: Development Studies Program

I must clarify though, that I believe this study specifically focused on a particular demographic of the Palestinian population in Israel. I do not believe these feelings apply so much for Arab-Israelis, but I think they are appropriate for many Palestinians in refugee camps and those stuck in the West Bank and Gaza.

Arab-Israelis definitely have more opportunities than the Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza, but like I said before, they too think a peace is far in the coming.

Although this study reflects the results of a youth demographic, this information is still relevant in assessing the mood of society as a whole.

View from the top

If you know me well enough, you knew from my last post that I was going to be back at the Muslim quarter of the Old City the very next day. This time though, a friend and I walked to it from the dorms. It was a pretty long walk, but Jerusalem is cooling down a bit, and so even though the sun was still beating down ferociously from above, there was also an occasional cool breeze to mollify the heat.

I bought myself one of the three things I vowed to buy in the Middle East. I bought a 20 shekel Azan alarm clock!!

When I was in Morocco, I loved waking up, yes even at five in the morning, to the muezzin's call to prayer resonating from all corners of the city. After going back to the states, I realized that hearing the call to prayer was something that I really loved and really missed. I read somewhere later on that in all the brick-a-brack type stores in any Middle Eastern souk, one can find alarm clocks that wake you up with the call to prayer-I knew I would have to get AT LEAST one. I'll probably end up buying up a collection before I return home.

And there, in the souk of the Old City, I found several! There were Azan clocks that rang five times a day, and multi-colored Azan clocks, small ones, big ones, and all wonderful. I bought one that only rings once since I figure I won't be home enough to enjoy the other four.

(You can see my new Azan clock as the crowning photo of this blog. By the way, do you like the new layout?)

After some intense roaming around, gobbling down sticky honeyed Arabic desserts, drinking pomegranate juice, and haggling for random unnecessary purchases, we took a breather by the entrance to Al-Aqsa and the Dome of the Rock. We weren't allowed in because it's disrespectful to enter after a certain time especially during Ramadan, so we watched as huge crowds filed in. I have yet to visit the mosque and the dome, but I'd never found the entrance before-I'll get to them some day.


































Also, today as I was taking my jog, I realized why I put myself through this painful run almost every day. To be honest, I really dislike running-I would much rather be taking a nap. But as I gazed out at the view overlooking Jerusalem, I realized this view reminded me everyday how lucky I am to be here. As much as I complain about things around here, I would not rather be anywhere else right now in my life.

And I'm sorry to be cliche, but it also made me realize just how unique Jerusalem is. On the one hand, it is unfortunate that Jerusalem is still a divided city; half the city is festooned in colorful blinking Ramadan lights and is less "modern", and the other half is dominated by architectural giants and a lighted menorah. There are some Jewish Israelis who have never ventured into the Muslim quarter of the Old City or even to East Jerusalem, I'm sure it's the same vice versa, although more Palestinians/ Arab Israelis probably go to West Jerusalem for jobs than Israeli Jews go to East Jerusalem.

The longer I'm here, the more I feel the subtle and sometimes not so subtle tensions between Jews and Muslims. This city is full of unspoken rules and muffled discrimination. I'm starting to understand that both sides have valid points, both sides are marred by fundamentalism, both sides are misunderstood, both sides are just trying to exist, and ultimately, both sides are fighting for peace.

On the other hand, above the clamor of the city and the politics and the religion, the view from the top shows a tentative coexistence if only because of proximity of sacred sites, but it is a coexistence nonetheless.


(picture from www. jerusalemshots.com)

Where in the world is Carmen San Diego?

Actually...more like, where in the world is Stacy?

Instead of doing my Ulpan homework writing an essay about Ethiopian Jewish immigrants, I thought I'd give a little update describing where exactly in Jerusalem I'm located.

Yes, I'm at the Hebrew University, and yes, you've seen photos of my run (my mom says I shouldn't run by the highways anymore because I'm breathing in so many car fumes...she's totally right. I inhale so much exhaust and tire burn that my vision gets hazy sometimes.), but really, where am I?

I have one of these basic maps of Jerusalem that the madrichim gave me during orientation. And to be honest, it's helpful in gauging how far I am from the center of the city, but it doesn't really help me figure out my own neighborhood on the French Hill. I figured out where I am on the map-I'm located way in the upper right hand corner next to the label that says, "Published by Rami Meroz". But, I almost felt like an afterthought.

It actually took me an embarrassing amount of time to figure out exactly where I was in relation to the Palestinian Authority of the West Bank, and why people were afraid to walk around our East Jerusalem at night. I was surprised by the fact that there were so many Palestinian people and Arabic writing on stores. I noticed that at the bus stops around the dorms, the "Arab buses" also made their stops, although I never knew where they were going since there were no signs indicating that there was even a stop for them there. While in the city, Egged buses roamed the streets, and I never saw these "Arab buses" anywhere. I even recently found out that there is a refugee camp right next to the French Hill-the Shuafat refugee camp, and the Wall is right here too!

I was confused about why I would hear people saying we're basically IN the West Bank. I thought, no way. We couldn't be! The West Bank and Ramallah are only chimeras you hear about in the news. They don't actually exist.

Well, yes, of course they do. I live only 30 minutes away from Ramallah. After some intense research on Wikipedia, I can explain this a little better for you.

Jerusalem is on the very edge of the border between Israel and the West Bank.

East Jerusalem (where I live), is land that was captured by Israel in the 1967 Six-Day War from Jordan. East Jerusalem is where the Old City is located, and where most of the holiest sites for Muslims, Jews, and Christians are located like the Temple Mount, the Western Wall, al-Aqsa Mosque, the Dome of the Rock, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the Mount of Olives, etc.

After the 1948 war and the inception of Israel, Jerusalem was split into East and West. West Jerusalem was mostly Jewish and under Israeli sovereignty, while East Jerusalem was mostly Arab and under Jordanian jurisdiction.

Mount Scopus (where French Hill is) was an Israeli enclave in East Jerusalem. So, it was not considered to be part of East Jerusalem, whereas geographically, it is.

Also an interesting statistic that Wikipedia gives is that 42% of the population of East Jerusalem is Jewish-making up 39% of the Jewish population in Jerusalem; 53% of the population of East Jerusalem is Muslim-making up 99% of the Muslim population in Jerusalem; and 3% of the population of East Jerusalem are Christian-making up 92% of the Christian population in Jerusalem.

Of course these numbers aren't completely accurate and are probably skewed and controversial because of political purposes, but it's valuable information nonetheless.

Anyway, here is a useful map: