Shomer Shalom Network for Jewish Nonviolence
If the sword then not the book; if the book then not the sword.
October 9, 2011 by jcsdanner@gmail.com

Getting Through to the Other Side: A Reflection for Kol Nidre

Getting between Palestine and Israel is challenging, even for someone who possesses an American passport. To visit Jerusalem from Beit Sahour where we are staying, our small artist delegation takes a cab to the Separation Wall for 20 shekels where Palestinian cab drivers in various states of economic desperation wait to snag anyone coming through in the other direction. We walk the long uphill corridor toward the Israeli side and arrive at the first checkpoint. We are standing outside without cover next to an empty parking lot that connects to the other internal checkpoint. Luckily it’s not raining. If you are disabled, I can only image the trip must be nearly impossible, because the circular iron gates with many bars through which one must pass are not built for wheel chairs. 
At the checkpoint booth, a Palestinian woman waving a permission slip with one hand and holding a fidgety toddler in the other pleads with the girl soldier behind the glass barrier to let her through. The young soldier with a pony tail shakes her head no and looks exasperated. The young mother is speaking Arabic, the soldier Hebrew and they don’t understand each other. The young mother turns to me and starts telling me her story in Arabic, perhaps assuming I know her language since I’ve come by foot through the checkpoint from Bethlehem. Tourists take the bus. Israelis do not enter. Only Palestinians come this way. The Jewish soldier sees me talking to her and asks me in Hebrew if I can translate. I can. My Arabic skills have gotten a lot better. The young Muslim woman wants to take her baby to the hospital and her permission slip is good for one day only. The soldier says, “Tell her, whoever gave her the permission slip should have known that no one is permitted to go through from this Wednesday through Saturday because of the Jewish holidays. Please translate.” I translate most of it and find myself on the verge of tears. I can only imagine how long it took this woman to apply for and receive permission to cross over, or how far away she lives from the check point, or what is wrong with her child.  “Can you check with someone?” I ask the soldier? “Aren’t medical cases allowed through at any time?” The soldier picks up her phone, makes a five second call, talks to her superior, looks back at the mother and shakes her head no. 
The mother begins to cry as she waves her permission slip in front of the woman behind the glass booth. A small line is accumulating behind us. The soldier commands the three of us to proceed to the next check point across the parking lot, but the mother refuses to move and is still trying to explain to the soldier that her permission slip is only good for this particular day. I ask the soldier again if she can check with someone, as this is a medical case and the entire scene repeats itself. I gaze at a huge sign on the Separation Wall that says, ” Jerusalem and Bethlehem: peace and love.” There are a lot of ironic signs posted between the two territories.
A Palestinian joke I heard from Zoughbi Zoughbi of Wiam a few days later: Henry Kissinger has been appointed manager of the Biblical Zoo in Jerusalem. After a few months, reporters ask the dignitary what he has achieved. Kissinger replies with pride, “I have successfully caused the lion to lay down with the lamb!”
“Really?” exclaim the reporters. “How did you do it?” 
“Everyday, a new lamb.”

The occupation is sacrificing all of us and is our common enemy. The good news, as Zoughbi likes to say, is that the wall will fall because no injustice can last forever.
Furthermore, he says, “Hope is a form of nonviolence. The struggle keeps us sane. Transformation is possible.”  All this is true. But not inevitable.  As darkness falls, may this day of fasting strengthen bonds of friendship and trust so we can find our way
through every obstacle to justice and peace.
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September 28, 2011 by jcsdanner@gmail.com

Beauty in the Community: A Successful End and Beginning

The process of creating the mural in the courtyard between four houses in Balata refugee camp involved gaining the support and excitement of key community leadership, especially from the families living around the courtyard. One of the houses belongs to the family of Ibtisam, the director of the women’s programme center explained our project house by house. Ibtisam surveyed her community to find out what images they wanted painted on the walls which is how we came to paint a sea scape. The sea is a powerful symbol of their longing for freedom. The other piece of our organizing strategy is simply being present on the site, full of smiles, paper and markers for the very young children and a mural design that permits everyone to grab a brush and paint and to some extent, contribute to the design process. Jared’s experience as a working artist in the classrooms of Philadelphia was invaluable. He created a design that we were able to translate into a mural in three days. 
As we began mixing colors, mostly young men from the neighborhood appeared anxious to be part of the work. By the middle of the first day of painting everyone was sketching their ideas for the other three walls and I helped them design a few mini murals (patterns of flowers, stars and trees) which they then created over the next two days. Somewhat limited by our lack of language skills, we nonetheless communicated. Daily Arabic lessons allowed me to tailor about 100 words of Arabic vocabulary to the needs of handing out colors, brushes, describing the images, learning everyone’s name, and being able to answer the usual questions: where are we from, what we think of Palestine and how old we are. Wearing a Palestinian flag bracelet helped. We felt everyone warm to us. 
Of course, during our time in the courtyard, tea, coffee, juice, fruit and more substantial food appeared throughout the days. One of the women literally put pomegranate seeds in my mouth because one hand held a brush, the other a paint cup. These intimate experiences of sharing, kissing cheeks, sitting and playing with children, working with the young men, speaking with the grandmothers, and working hard on the painting forged a very sweet bond. Watching the mural take shape at their hands was exciting for everyone. Kids on the way home from school would emerge from the narrow alleys talking, running, skipping, singing, see the mural, come to a full stop and literally stand with their mouths open and gaze in wonder at the new sea-scape in their midst. One toddler who lives on the second floor of one of the houses stuck his head out the window yelling, “Look! Look! We have fish. We have fish!” Everyone laughed. 
On the last day of painting, a woman came into the courtyard screaming at us. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but it seems she had a daughter who she considered an artist. This woman asked me to follow her home, which I did, and there I met S who showed me her portfolio and indeed, her work was amazing. I brought her back with me, gave her a set of paints, helped her choose one of her drawings and she painted the fourth wall with a most magnificent painted jar, reminding me of the pottery of New Mexico. (see below) We gave the remaining paint and brushes away that afternoon to the young artists with the hope they would continue designing new murals. Our prayers were quickly answered.  
That evening we held a ‘hafla’, a party. About sixty people including dozens of children joined us. Jared’s beautiful lanterns constructed by the girls at the school bordered the courtyard. We brought out the tabla and I played softly for a bit with one eleven year old named Ahmed. I asked him if he knew any songs (in Arabic of course) and he began singing a popular Muslim song, with words from the Qur’an, la ila ha il allah, Mohammed rasul allah: There is no God but God and Mohammed is his prophet. I began singing with him which drew a crowd of the young men with whom I shared the past several days of painting. Another layer of respect and exchange emerged. Honoring the culture of the people with whom we are working, treating them as equal partners and guides allowed us to complete our project with exactly the results we sought: high community involvement and ownership, and a sense that the work will continue. On the last night, Majdi informed us that the Women’s Programme Center of Balata is opening a new art department and the young woman artist is being invited to paint a mural on the walls of the center. At the final party at the girls school, we learned they were already planning the next mural with plans to involvement more classes. The community wants us to come back, and we will try to come for part of the summer camp season to do some more teaching of techniques (how to hold a brush, mix paint, and of course, to give people more opportunities to create beauty in their living spaces.
     
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September 25, 2011 by jcsdanner@gmail.com

Prison on the Eve of the Jewish New Year

On Thursday, with thoughts about Troy Davis very much on my mind, I began a series of intentional conversations about detention and prison with residents of Balata whose path I have crossed through this project.  I began by speaking to a woman who participates in a support group at the Women’s Programme Center which serves about 700 women a year in Balata. Huda’s son Saleh was arrested along with his dance troupe at Hawarra checkpoint on his way to perform a debke concert in Ramalah eight years ago. He was fifteen years old. According to his mother, Saleh and his friends were taken to a military base, and interrogated and tortured over a period of days until they confessed their intention to become suicide bombers. It is well known that torture does not produce accurate information, especially when those being tortured are children. Saleh wanted to continue his education but that is no longer a possibility in Israeli prison. He is scheduled to be released when he turns 33. Huda showed me a video on her phone of Saleh dancing with a troupe he organized in prison. She does not know how he will adjust when he comes out, or how she will relate to him, or how her daughters will adjust. She travels once a month for eight hours to the Negev desert where Saleh is warehoused. She gets less than one hour with her son, and the encounter is behind glass and with a telephone.  She has not hugged her son in a very long time. Sometimes, to punish the prisoners, Huda arrives and is not allowed to see him. 
The Women’s Programme Center provides counseling and support groups for mothers with children in prison. Re-entry programs are also available on a limited basis. Throughout the narrow streets of Balata and throughout Palestine in general, one sees the names of imprisoned relatives written on the walls of the family house adorned with painted roses and candles as a symbol of remembrance. At the end of our time together, Huda thanks me. “It was like a therapy session, because I feel better after I talk about him. I am glad others will know his story.”  Hanan, who leads many of the support groups tells me that  behind the smiles of women and men in Palestine is a mask of pain because each person carries a story of suffering. There are so many stresses upon families in Balata including the overcrowding, lack of employment, scarcity of water and lack of resources for the youth. Nonetheless,  imprisonment of children, husbands, uncles and brothers places enormous stress upon women who have to hold their families together. High blood pressure, diabetes and other diseases are quite common due to these living conditions.   
The next day we visit a former detention center opposite Al Faraah refugee camp which was opened by the British and eventually taken over by Israel. It was closed several years ago and is now a youth center run by the Palestinian Authority.
Unfortunately, the people of Al Farrah camp do not get much use out of the center due to the incredible red tape and bureaucratic hoops placed upon them by the Palestinian Authority that community members must jump through before they get permission to use the remodeled facility. Ironically, our group, foreigners, got in the same day we requested permission to enter after our host made seven phone calls. 
Because the detention center was immediately across the road from the camp,90 % of the men over the age of 35 in Al Farrah have experienced imprisonment.  There were sections for tents where prisoners were housed, small rooms where up to 17 boys lived if they’ve earned the ire of the soldiers. All seventeen had 5 minutes to use a few toilets and wash every day. Our guide once received solitary confinement for being late out of the toilet. Worst of all was the so called ‘closet’ where young men were placed in the heat for periods of time for different infractions. 
Even though this particular detention center is closed, Imprisonment and torture are not in the past. Today, many children from the villages of the Friday protests against the Wall throughout the West Bank are arrested and detained in a similar manner in order to get them to turn in the elders of the village and to pressure villagers to ending their nonviolent protests. The targeting of children for arrest, torture and punishment continues.
Over the past forty years coming to Palestine, I have heard literally hundreds stories of arrest and torture, mostly by Israel, some by the Palestinian Authority. There are almost no families in Palestine untouched by this aspect of occupation. The level of trauma produced by such treatment lies just underneath the surface of everyday encounters. On the other hand, what does it mean for Israeli society to have so many young men and women involved in the carrying out of the system that detains, imprisons and brutalizes so many people?
There is a Jewish legend that Joseph was freed from prison on Rosh Hashanah. As the Jewish community prepares for this holy day of compassion and forgiveness, may we strengthen our resolve to resist systems of detention, imprisonment and torture. They are barbaric and have no place in the community of human beings. Today we ended a wonderful day of painting a sea in an open courtyard in Balata with the boys who live in the neighborhood. I asked one of them what he thought of the possible UN vote for Palestinian statehood. He said, First, please free my brother. Free all the prisoners. Freedom is the most important thing.”
  
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September 21, 2011 by jcsdanner@gmail.com

Balata Blog

Dear friends, If you find this useful to the occasion of the UN Vote, Please post

Mustafa is a 29 year old film maker, graduate of Al Najah University, resident of the old city of Nablus where he lives in a house hundreds of years old. We went to a coffee and hookah shop overlooking the demonstration that was taking place in Nablus’ city center and had an intense conversation in light of the relatively festive event in support of Palestinian rights taking place below. These were some of Mustafa’s observations. 
 ”The recognition that most people desire is not so much about statehood. It is a way to express to the world what we want them to know and understand: we are human beings. We just want a normal life. We want to give a normal life to our children. No one living in Palestine believes their will be a Palestinian State. Just look around. Really. Settlements are everywhere. Exactly where would this Palestinian State exist? Anyway, does statehood mean we have to give up the right of return? People think it is good to receive recognition from the United Nations, but not at the cost of the right of refugees to return home. 
Meanwhile our everyday life is very difficult. I have so many friends who died in the Intifada, friends who were simply civilians caught in the city. My brother is in and out of prison. I have to endure many strip searches. I am constantly humiliated at checkpoints. Every time I want to travel to Ramallah I have to leave a day in advance, even though it is not even two hours from here. To Jordan is an ordeal. My house has been destroyed and destroyed and destroyed again. For what? The soldiers tell me, I don’t want to do this, but it’s an order. I say, so what. Refuse your orders. Look at what you are doing.  How can we trust Israelis when they treat us so cruelly? Periods of relative calm come and go, but everyone is waiting for the next explosion. What’s left for them to do to us? Transfer. Someday they will try to force us all to go to Jordan in order to be done with us.”
That morning, Mustafa and I sat drinking coffee (my third cup of the morning) in the women’s center in Balata before going to the small impromptu playground where we are going to paint a mural of the sea. The picture below of women and children was taken in only the tiny open space in Balata. The 14,000 children of Balata have never seen the sea even though it is only one hour away. But they want to be reminded that the sea exists. For these children, the right of return is the right to swim in the sea. Mustafa tells me, “In Palestine we drink tea in the morning while we listen to the music of Farouz and at 4PM we drink coffee and smoke nargila to Oum Kalthoum.  The older men don’t put any fruit flavor in their tobacco. They smoke it straight up to compliment the strength of Oum. These customs are precious to me. I just want a normal life where I can enjoy the beauty of my culture and pass it on to my children.”  Inshallah.                                                                                                           
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September 18, 2011 by jcsdanner@gmail.com

Balata Blog

Thirty three year old Ayaash manages the Yasmeen Hotel in the heart of the old city of Nablus. He tells us the lower part of the building is five hundred years old  while the upper story was built about 20 years ago minus the planned third story which was interrupted by the second Intifada. Ayaash was wearing a turquoise shirt that complimented his long hair pulled back in a pony tail. He recognized me from previous visits and we reintroduced ourselves.It turned out he is from Balata and is a close friend of Ibtisam, the director of the Women’s Programme Center, and Eman, another volunteer who looks after our needs. Eman bought us ice cream the other day after an outdoor session with the girls at school sketching out the mural with pencil.  It was particularly hot. Anyway, we cannot walk two steps without someone offering us a meal, a drink, a home visit, directions, or whatever we might need. Last night two young girls brought nuts, candy and salted chickpeas to our table as we sipped the heavenly lime and pistachio drink in the park. Families spend a lot of time hanging out together in Palestine and we are always invited to join them. 
I ask Ayaash about the upcoming UN vote. “Nothing will change, ” he said. 
These events are like an injection. Clashes and quiet, clashes and quiet, nothing changes and the occupation will remain. My father told me to have hope that things will change, and that’s probably what I will tell my children. But nothing will.” Then he repeats a sentiment I hear from Palestinians all the time and everywhere. “You know, this is not about religion. I have Muslim friends, Christian friends and Jewish friends. I am friends with Israeli peace activists and have been in actions with them. But nothing will change because most Israelis think this land belongs to them. They don’t want to share the land. THey keep taking more and more. That is what is not changing.”  Ayaash is not going anywhere. His family has lived in Nablus since the Nakba, and in the holy land itself for generations upon generations. Palestinians belong to the land. The UN vote means almost nothing to them. While the event is hyped up in the West, most people here are waiting for it to pass and hoping it does not bring with it too much violence.
After we finish our meal at the Yasmeen, we take a taxi to Sebastia, a site of many layers of antiquities. Dara and I walk amidst the surrounding olive groves.  We gaze at the massive stones from Biblical, Roman and Byzantine eras and identify the ruins from the map that was given to us by a man who manages a restaurant on the top of a hill that overlooks the Roman Basilica. Boys are playing ball among the columns while two local soccer teams vie for goals. The vistas from the top of the hill are magnificent. We can’t help but notice how deeply connected the people are to the land. We return to the open air restaurant where several families are enjoying the afternoon. An elder gentlemen boasts to us about his daughters who are sharing a hooka. One is a journalist, the other a psychologist, and a third is a dentist.   All are wearing the traditional hijab. Their children are playing around them and they engage us in conversation. The grandfather says, “Nablus is the third oldest city in the world. Jericho is the first, Damascus the second, Nablus the third, Jerusalem the fourth and the fifth is somewhere in Yemen.” The men to our right who serve us juice and coffee show us coins they have collected from the Roman and Byzantine periods. People know the history and stories that belong to this place.They work the land and safeguard holy places. One of the women  offers us fresh dates recently picked from the tree which are  hard and not yet softened into the dates people usually buy and eat.  The rocky and terraced hills turn pink and purple in the sunset and we are happy to sit among these kind and generous people. We don’t talk politics, but it is clear that Palestinians belong to this land, love this land and show us the same hospitality and grace that they shower upon the land. Whether the UN votes yes or no, whether the US vetoes or not, the Palestinians belong to the land.
If only we as a community could see and understand the indigenous spirit they bring
we would be blessed many times over.  (photos by Jared Wood)                                                                                                                       
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September 13, 2011 by jcsdanner@gmail.com

Balata Blog

The past several days Jared, Dara and I have been working with the UNWRA girls schools associated with Balata Refugee Camp on the first stage of the mural project. We asked the group of young women about 13 years old chosen to work with us to share with us what is beautiful in their lives, and then to render their thoughts into images. They drew images of nature as well as of themselves in their school uniforms and in traditional dress. Clearly, they are deeply connected to the land. We identified common themes and then went home and put all the images together to create the mural which we, along with the girls, will paint in the large inner court yard of the school. We found a way to put all their images into one mural…a young woman with roots of a tree against the landscape with one arm holding the flame of knowledge, and the other a dove in flight. There is a ribbon of the colors of Palestine, red, white and green, flowing from the mountains and wrapping itself around the tree into her roots. In the distance is a village with many of their images woven into the scene, including the woman below in traditional dress. The image reflects their hope for the future and their central place within it. The girls, teacher and headmaster were so pleased with the image we created, they want to enter it into a national contest, and so, will create a smaller version tomorrow. Practice for the mural we begin in two days.
They are extremely curious about us. Miryam, Miriyam they call to me, how old are you, what religion are you, where are you from, why did you come? Play the tabla for us!  I already have a nickname given to me by Majdi, and everyone now calls me Haji Miryam. Haji Miryam was an elder woman healer who used to live in the neighborhood. Whenever children were sick, Haji Miryam would come with just the right dose of medicene to make them well. When I play the tabla, the girls sing traditional songs, and then I offer them the drum and several play beautifully, and dance.
Staying in one place is a wonderful experience, after years of leading delegations that move from place to place every single day. We are slowly learning the stories of the women of the center and of our amazing guide Majdi and the young girls who surround us with enthusiasm. Each day, as we walk to center city, and then through the old city toward Balata, Majdi knows exactly from whom and where to buy or pick up exactly what we need, from stirring sticks for the paints from a wood worker, to the best olives and lebne to the spice dealer. Every two steps, he is stopped by a familiar face and once again, explains who were are and what we are doing here.
Stories of the occupation are never far away. Majdi spent several Fridays in Bilin several months ago and almost died from the effect of the tear gas. When he returned home, his friends noticed he was turning red, he went to the hospital and the doctor quickly treated him for blood poisoning, saying, he had about two days to live if his condition went untreated. What hurts everyone the inability to enjoy the holy land’s beauty, feeling confined, feeling on edge from the settlers. Clearly, at some point in the future, the Jewish community will have to give Palestinians the freedom they crave, the freedom to move without restraint. The young women whose faces shine with hope and smiles from their crowded classroom are a clear sign that living together in friendship is better than living apart in fear and suspicion. The future belongs to them.

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September 10, 2011 by jcsdanner@gmail.com

Balata Blog

Dear friends,

Today we met seven wonderful women, six volunteer at the Women’s Programme Center and the seventh directs the programs. The women chose the site which will be the subject of our work in Balata Refugee Camp, the only open space in the camp where children can play amidst the houses. Balata is about one square mile with a network of houses that are three story concrete buildings. The unofficial playground is an open space about 20 sq feet with blank walls and concrete ground that has four entrance ways. We are hoping to paint all four walls with images that arise from the hopes and dreams of the children living here.
The second site is a remarkable area in the old city which features a faded mural of a woman washing clothes that was severely damaged during the second intifada. Beneath the mural, three martyrs are remembered by the community. The walls of Balata and Nablus are filled with the names of fighters as well as those in prison. The image of the rose and a flaming candle are typical forms of remembrance that families put on the exterior of their homes. The opportunity to paint a mural in the heart of the old city will involve us in a process with people in the neighborhood. We all feel very blessed for such an opportunity to work in this way with local artists and residents. Majdi, our guide and teacher, is responsible for making this possible.
While in the old city, we dined on kenafe, a sheep and cow cheese mixture on top of a special yellow sugary dough soaked with sugar water which is the specialty of Nablus. Nabuls is known for producing over forty different kinds of special sweets. I also bought a dumbek in the market, and while sitting on a chair waiting for Jared to buy some toothpaste, an elder man noticed the drum and asked if I could play. So,  I started to play beladi rhythms and immediately attracted about twenty people who started clapping. Drums are a fantastic way to bring people together and we hope to play during our painting sessions.
This evening, Majdi spoke about the settlers and their efforts to ignite clashes by coming into Nablus to visit Joseph’s tomb and then sneaking past the army into the streets to confront the local population. They are being trained by the army, believe it or not, to defend themselves. They have published instructions to their followers: fight men to men, women to women, children to children. We are hoping that things remain quiet and settlers are prevented from entering the town.
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September 10, 2011 by jcsdanner@gmail.com

Balata Blog

George Rishmawi is a dedicated activist from Beit Sahour who I’ve known since 1999 when we stood in front of Deiheshe Refugee Camp
as he told the story of Palestinian nonviolent resistance against the background of the ordeals of occupation. Over the years we have visited each other’s homes and met at conferences.  I have had the opportunity to travel with George through the varied landscapes of Palestine which he knows so well and meet his network of friends and associates from Hebron in the south to Jenin in the north. Today Dara, Jared and I joined George as he translated speeches from elected officials in Jenin to a special program out of UC schools including Irvine called the Olive Tree Initiative. About thirty three Jewish, Israeli, Palestinian, Muslim and Christian students travel together to learn each other’s narratives and develop a sensitivity to ‘the situation’ by being on the ground. As we stood before a sculpture of a larger than life size horse constructed with ambulance parts collected after the Jenin battle of 2002, students expressed their deep appreciation for each other’s presence and courage. The Olive Tree Initiative tries to hold a neutral position in relation to the conflict in order to create bridges of understanding among both Jewish and Palestinian communities. Students on the trip struggle to make sense of the dozens of stories they hear throughout Israel and Palestine. Many people conclude, “It’s complicated.”
The upcoming UN vote is on the minds of many people. Many express their hope that official recognition by the General Assembly will give Palestine the right to take Israel to the World Court in order to sue them for damages caused by Occupation. People on the ground also hope Palestine remains quiet and secure during this period, but they are expecting trouble from settlers. People are tired of occupation, tired of armed struggle, tired of restrictions and harassment. They just want to live a normal life. The Olive Tree Initiative students missed a wonderful meal with a Woman’s Association in Jenin because they were afraid they wouldn’t be able to leave due to a checkpoint closure and  Jewish students didn’t want to miss Shabbat. The four of us however,  enjoyed an unbelievably delicious traditional meal prepared by the women along with their warm company. Rice cooked with almonds, Arab salad (finely cut tomatoes and cucumbers bathed in lemon and olive oil), home made soup, yogurt, bean salad, chicken, cookies with fennel and chocolate, tea and coffee.
Almost every family in Palestine carries loss. Um Emad, the founder of the center, still mourns the death of her eldest son a photographer. He was shot during the second intifada while filming events. Like many injured people,  Israeli soldiers on the scene did not permit the family or medical personnel to attend to his wounds and he bled to death in the street. Emad was a proponent of women’s rights and this particular center was initiated by his mother due to the desire to honor his memory. The women at the center recognized me from my last visit…as did the representatives of the village of Ramona which we visited after lunch. It’s a wonderful feeling to return and return again and feel people’s appreciation for the ongoing work of solidarity. One of the representatives, Husam, speaks Hebrew fluently so we moved into a deeper conversation. He shared his experience of taking his son to the sea for the first and only time in his life. A Jewish Israeli friend drove them to Acco. His son flew like a bird across the sand and didn’t want to leave. He asked his father, “Why don’t Palestinians have a sea?” Husam is a member of ‘The Golden Walk’, a peacewalk organization of Palestinians and Jews who believe in nonviolence.
Every month he enters Israel to be part of the circle.
For many people in Palestine life is confined to home and village or town. Majdi Shella, our host organizer in Nablus lives his life within a 6 kilometer radius.Two years ago, one of the students Majdi took to Spain asked him, “Is Spain before or after the check point in Hawarah (the entrance of Nablus)? Majdi is an energetic and passionate advocate for women and labor in Palestine. Tonight he accompanied us to his favorite spot in Nablus, a beautiful outdoor garden filled with families sitting at tables around a beautiful fountain. We drank lemon freeze mixed with pistachio ice cream that tasted like heaven called Barad, a hand made specialty of the house. Children with long curly balloons chased each other around the fountain, couples enjoyed apple flavored hukkahs and we talked about the politics of place. Majdi approved of our efforts to come and offer concrete skills and 

then return home to spread the world of Palestinian life. We are staying at an International Friends Guest House (I don’t think they are related to Quakers). We have a terrace, large rooms, and a view of the desert sky that sings with the pink and blue colors of dusk and dawn that begin and end each day.

 

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September 8, 2011 by jcsdanner@gmail.com

Balata Blog

To continue reading blog in the coming days, please go to FORUSA.org or Community of Living Traditions or Shomershalom.org for the Balata blog. Better yet, become a friend of CLT and Shomershalom!

We’re here!   We had no real problem getting through security in Tel Aviv because, luckily, I speak Hebrew and helped shepherd  both Jared and Dara through the questioning. Dara was stopped and taken to a special room because of her last name (Hajjar) and Jared because he’s black and seemed to be traveling alone.  I intervened and promised I knew them both for a long time and they would be with me the whole time. That’s how privilege works in Israel from the get go.
We spent our lay over in Brussels, which is a bi-national state divided in half according to language regions between Flemmish and French speaking regions. Brussels sits more or less on the border and all train announcements and signs are in both languages. One sees less and less evidence of bi-lingual signs in Israel. We noted that Bethlehem has a welcome sign in 10 different languages including Hebrew.
In Brussels we ate waffles and chocolate and walked around center city which is replete with narrow streets and squares and lots of buildings with angels, lions, greek and romanesque statuary, gold relief and tourism stores featuring the famous and extremely tiny mannequin pis, a small statue of a boy pissing who is said to have saved Brussels from a fire.  We also met with Tim Wallis, the director of  Nonviolent Peace Force. NPF  is a civilian peace force that endeavors to provide space for individuals to work through areas of conflict. Go to http://www.nonviolentpeaceforce.org/ for more information. They are about to bring NPF to Palestine and Israel. NPF places 40-85 people on the ground to help resolve conflict while trying to remain neutral. They do this work to further human rights. The most attacked right is the ability to travel within the country. There is little freedom of movement for Palestinians since visas are not easily available.
The checkpoint into Jerusalem was staffed by sleepy child soldiers who glance at our faces while talking on the phone or to each other. We were waved us on through. Most Palestinian are searched and questioned. Crossing over into Bethlehem is akin to passing through a prison gate. We were all taken aback by the tourism images of Jerusalem on the 28 foot high wall and compound that isolates Palestinians behind a barrier of separation. While Israelis are protesting privatization by the tens of thousands, we noted that privatization is also happening at checkpoints without much commentary. We are reading about a new awareness between Israeli Jews and Palestinians in Israel but have not yet had first hand experience of the movement.
Today we’re resting in Beit Sahour (Shepherd’s Field) and travel to Nablus tomorrow. Stay tuned.
Lynn

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August 31, 2011 by ross

Happy Labor Day

“If, as we believe and as we have resolved on numerous occasions, unionization is an indispensable means of securing justice for workers in our society, then our dedication to tzedakah requires that we not set the “fair market value” of labor according to the wage level for non-union workers. Read the rest of this entry »

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