Old Man In...

Conclusions

2010-08-30T16:25:00.000+03:00

After talking to men who have migrated to live in Ramallah about their relationships with their families and neighbours, what did I find out this summer?

1. Extended families and distant neighbours
When people move to Ramallah they maintain good relationships with their families in their place of origin. However, few migrants know their neighbours in Ramallah very well. This creates a binary between family (spatially distant, socially close) and neighbours (spatially close, socially distant). Social relations become stretched across space. Further research might explore women and children’s social relations, since they may not conform to this pattern.

2. Rethinking the city

Ramallah is currently thought about as a bounded space in various ways (e.g. Bantustan, enclave, bubble). Ramallah is the political and economic centre, and thus quite different from other Palestinian cities. However, it is also connected with those cities and villages through the lives of migrants. The movement of people, money, knowledge, and goods (esp. food) between Ramallah and other parts of the West Bank (e.g. through weekly visits, telephone calls, financial transfers) suggests that the city can be thought of as a series of emotional, social, economic and political networks that stretch across the West Bank. The city is thus not just buildings and infrastructure, but also people.

3. Political economy and affective atmospheres

Migrants experiences of Ramallah must be understood in the context of changing political and economic relations. They must also be understood in relation to the atmosphere of the city. Many research participants talked about an atmosphere of ‘freedom’. For different people this meant: 1) freedom from familial & social obligations; 2) freedom to make money; 3) freedom from occupation (although these are all interlinked). This atmosphere is actively produced in various ways by the Authority, the municipalities and by residents themselves. In addition to the political and economic factors that make Ramallah distinct, this atmosphere also defines Ramallah. Further research on this issue is necessary.

And with that, another trip comes to a close.

Ramadan

2010-08-17T22:28:00.000+03:00

Ramadan, the Holy Month, began a few days ago. In preparation brightly coloured lights had been appearing outside toys stores since last weekend. A number of houses in the neighbourhood also have an array of fairy lights, many in the shape of crescent moons and stars, attached to exterior walls and roofs.

One of the most interesting things about Ramadan, is the way in which it changes time and space for an entire month. The city is transformed during the day, as food vendors shut down (some use the time to conduct renovations), and fewer people walk around – not surprising given that many are neither eating nor drinking during daylight hours. [I should actually say most of the city is transformed. I went to the Ramallah municipality – a ‘Christian municipality’ even though I presume many of the staff are now Muslim – and was promptly served tea at 10 o’clock in the morning. The restaurants in that area are also open during the day, although people eat and drink inside rather than on the patios). Later in the afternoon, there were fewer services running into town, and at sunset (iftar – the breaking of the fast), the streets become almost totally deserted, until people start going to the mosque for the prayer one hour after sunset. On the first day of Ramadan, so many people were going to my local mosque in Umm Alshariyat, that some literally had to pray in the street. After prayers many presumably return home to watch the Ramadan soap operas (Bab el Hara is in its 5th and final season now). Others walk around the neighbourhood. It seems that each night a group of men jog around around my neighbourhood, while singing. I can’t make out what their song is about. Unable to sleep last night, I also heard the drums beating notice – at 3am – to tell people to eat before the next day’s fast begins.

For many the day becomes night and visa versa, ensuring that while the body cannot eat and drink it remains asleep for many hours. However, even for those of us who are not fasting, time changes. The clocks have been put back an hour – reverting to ‘winter time’ in the middle of summer (a whole month earlier than they normally would). While many recognize that this makes fasting a little easier, it has also led to a great deal of confusion. This is something that has just been done in the West Bank. We are now one hour behind Israeli time. Can Palestinians living in East Jerusalem travel to Ramallah and arrive at the same time they left? When they are in East Jerusalem and beholden to the power of the Israeli state, do they live two times simultaneously? The settler-colonists in Psagot that I can see living on top of the nearby mountaintop are living in a different time, even as these exist in an adjacent space.

Johannes Fabian talks about how colonial regimes consign the colonized to a different time, as part of discourses and practices that promote the modernity of the colonizer at the expense of the ‘backwards’ indigenes, who belong to another time. (These ideas then underpin various ideas around ‘development’ among other things). But the multiple chronologies that came into being here on the first day of Ramadan are something different. Apparently it is Salem Fayyad (Palestinian PM) and the PLO that has the power to change time in this way. Thus this is a form of indigenous biopolitics – self-governance – highlighting that the colonized also participate in making their own temporal experiences. And it is also quite mundane. While I am certainly experiencing different ways (temporalities) of existing in the world simultaneously, for most people here the time change makes easier the task of sustaining bodies when particular (religiously inspired) conditions are placed on those bodies.

p.s. Talking of bodies, I have come into contact more than once – in communal taxis – with some very sweaty, odorous bodies since Ramadan started. While the weather has been hot – as usual – I don’t remember there being a prohibition of bathing. I wonder if (a) some areas are experiencing water shortages; or (b) fasting increases sweating.

Methodological limitations

2010-08-06T19:01:00.000+03:00

I now have a little over 2 weeks left in my field visit, and hence have started to feel a sense of heightened urgency to get work done. This temporality – not getting much done explicitly at the beginning of the trip, then rushing to get lots of ‘data’ towards the end – is quite familiar to me. It was certainly the basic pattern of my two previous visits here in 2006 and 2007. In some ways the early weeks can be frustrating, because it doesn’t seem like you’re doing much. However, I try to remind myself that these weeks are important too – both in terms of orientating oneself to the context one finds oneself in, and also ‘presencing’ oneself in that context: becoming known, familiar, and hence (hopefully) becoming less unknown/threatening/strange.

This act of ‘presencing’ oneself in the space of research has been particularly important this summer, because my primary sampling strategy – snowball sampling – has to all intents and purposes not worked. Snowball sampling, which I intended to use to generate interview participants, involves getting to know a few people, and then using their social networks to generate further research participants. In more concrete terms and in the context of my research, this would involve interviewing people, and then asking if they know other people who might be able and willing to help with my study. This is a useful method in contexts where a researcher doesn’t know many people themselves, and where time (and particularly the time to establish relations of trust) is limited. It can also give a sense of what social networks exist in a particular place and how they are maintained.

This method worked well in my previous project because the social networks were quite dense in the locality where I conducted research. However, in Umm alshariya, this method doesn’t have the same efficacy. While I was hoping – perhaps naively, perhaps generalizing too much from my previous research – that even in ‘migrant neighbourhoods’ some reasonably durable social ties would exist, this doesn't seem to be the case. In fact, the people I have talked to celebrate the fact that they are free from social ties and obligations. They embrace – to a certain extent – a more anonymous lifestyle where one doesn’t interfere with ones neighbours, and they treat you in a similar way.

Simply put, the sampling method I have chosen is inappropriate for the social practices and spaces that I wish to study. In this situation, I have had to rely on my own ability to ‘make relations’, which is harder and takes longer. Thankfully my ‘presencing’ is paying some dividends in this regard, and thus revealing the value of those early weeks where it seems like nothing much is happening.

Imagin(in)g Palestinian urban futures

2010-08-03T17:30:00.000+03:00

Haaretz reports that the building boom in Ramallah symbolizes growth in the West Bank. While I would argue that Ramallah's growth is happening largely in lieu of growth elsewhere in the West Bank, it is interesting to examine some of these development projects such as Al Reehan, Al Ghadeer, and perhaps the most talked about, Rawabi.

Rawabi is a new town, currently being built a few miles north of Ramallah. It's really interesting to unpack the ways in which Palestinian space, urban life, family, economic activity and ultimately futures are being imagined by those responsible for this project (and its website). While a friend is currently researching this project in detail, I thought I'd post this picture to give a flavour of the new urban subjects being co-produced for/by/with this space.

Notes from S’s visit.

2010-08-03T17:07:00.000+03:00

S. has now left. Here are a few retrospective thoughts from the two weeks she was here:

On the first night S. was here, we went to see Boney M play the Ramallah Cultural Palace (an awesome gig btw). A couple of days later we went to see a reggae concert at a local bar, and the next evening we had dinner at a popular local restaurant. By this point, it seemed like we knew or recognized half the people in the restaurant. This definitely gave me the sense that Ramallah is starting to resemble Amman: a limited social scene where an elite few constantly search for and inhabit the ‘next’ restaurant/bar/event, speaking to see and seeing more or less the same people.
Travelling around the West Bank, the extensiveness of Israeli colonialisation is (still) staggering. Bantustanization (the division and fragmentation of Palestinian space) is a ‘permanent solution’, regardless of which variety of state – if any – emerges in the next few years. [I don’t conceive of ‘permanency’ in this context as either static or eternal, rather obdurate and enduring].
Birzeit Old City has been extensively renovated since my last visit in 2007. I should have an opportunity to write more about this later in the month.
We visited Al-Khalil [Hebron], which has changed a great deal since my previous visit in 2005. It’s much less tense. Businesses have opened in the Old City again. The colonies built on top of Palestinian houses in the heart of the city remain, as does the military presence protecting them. This situation will not endure.
Also in Al-Khalil, Jawwal – the Palestinian mobile phone company – has built a series of fountains in the middle of roundabouts. Their billboards and posters are all over the West Bank. They sponsor festivals and community projects. We are witnessing the Jawwalisation of public space in the Palestinian areas of the West Bank.
Frequently when people met us (i.e. as a couple), they would ask if we had any children. When we said no, the common response – inshallah (God willing) – could be interpreted as part invocation, part blessing. One young woman told S. that when she returns to Palestine, she should return with a child. One old woman told me I looked too young to have children.

The Morning After…in Ramallah

2010-07-25T19:15:00.001+03:00

Update: One week later we returned to the first pharmacist we had visited in Umm al-Shariya - this time to get throat lozenges. He immediately recognized us and asked if we were able to get the pill, before showing us three boxes of Postinor that he had ordered. We wondered if he got them as a result of our request or if he had known what we needed but was not able to provide for us that day.

Warning: while this is ostensibly a post about the politics of sexual reproduction in contemporary Ramallah, the observations derive from a very personal experience that – for some readers – will be Too Much Information. While this is hardly sensational stuff, if you simply don’t want to know me *that* well, don’t read this post.

This Friday, the contraceptive S and I were using broke, and we only realized this after the fact. So after the inevitable brief and mild panic, we went in search of a pharmacy. While most shops are shut on Fridays, we were actually lucky enough to find quite a few pharmacies open.

The first pharmacy we went to – just down the road in Umm al-Shariya – didn’t know what emergency contraception was. They showed us the monthly birth control pill.

The second pharmacy we found – now in Ramallah itself – did know what emergency contraception was. However, the pharmacist told us that we would have to go to a doctor to get a prescription. When asked if he could recommend a doctor, he said there were plenty, but didn’t recommend one in particular. For the record, I have bought plenty of prescription drugs, without a prescription, in Ramallah. Pharmacists simply sell you what you need. While we can’t prove it, I’m inclined to agree with S. that this guy was making a moral judgment.

The third pharmacist knew about emergency contraception, and even knew the name of the brand (although this only became clear later). However, he didn’t have any in stock. He wrote the name of the brand down on a piece of paper – incorrectly as it turns out. Since the incorrect version of the brand was ‘powster’, which he pronounced ‘poster’, we thought he was talking about an advert he’d seen. He recommended going to another pharmacy to see if they had it in stock.

The fourth pharmacist we found had not heard of emergency contraception. She said that she had many friends who had been in similar situations and become pregnant. I think she was suggesting that they would have benefited from such a pill. She said she didn’t think we would find such a pill in Ramallah.

After this we returned to the third pharmacist. He called another pharmacy, and then we established that he could order the emergency contraception and it would arrive the next day. Somewhat disconcertingly, after we asked him to do this and confirm that it would arrive, he replied ‘inshallah’ (God willing, or hopefully). Anyway, God must have willed it, because we were able to pick up the emergency contraception – called Postinor – the following day.

In the interviews I have been doing as part of my research, a number of people have expressed a desire to only have one or two children – ‘a small family’. Given that this suggests changing reproductive desires in this city (c.f. the average number of children per couple remains just above 6 in the Occupied Palestinian Territories), it is interesting to refract these desires through the lens of contraceptive availability, and the practices of health care professionals. Our small and very unscientific survey of pharmacists suggests that there is quite a lot of ignorance about emergency contraception in Ramallah. None of the pharmacists kept this form of contraception in stock. The different ways the medical professionals responded to us (in turn: confused, judgmental, helpful, sympathetic), also demonstrated a wide range of attitudes towards couples that wish to drastically reduce the risk of conception in an emergency.

More broadly, the experience also underscores the need to always have/pursue multiple options when trying to achieve anything here.

[For anyone who arrived here after googling ‘morning after pill’ and ‘Ramallah’, try the Old Town Pharmacy located across from the Arab Bank in Ramallah Takhta.]

The life of W., continued

2010-07-25T19:12:00.000+03:00

Yesterday I ran into W., subject of this post 3 years ago, so I thought a quick update was in order. He is now working in the kitchen of a new (and currently quite trendy) Ramallah bar. He is still living in Birzeit, albeit in a new house. He now has two children, a daughter aged 2 ½ and a son aged 1 ½. He said he hasn’t seen them for five days. Given that the place he works at doesn’t close until the early hours, I presume he sleeps there, rather than take the 40 shekel taxi back to Birzeit each night. He also told me that he was shot in the leg by the Israeli Army at the Atara checkpoint about two years ago. He lost 5 centimeters from the aforementioned leg, and now has restricted movement in it and a pronounced limp.

“Waiting:” Impressions of an Israeli checkpoint - 2010

2010-07-25T19:10:00.000+03:00

S. is visiting for a couple of weeks. This is her first time in Palestine and the Middle East. A couple of days ago we went to Jerusalem, and so S. had her first experience of Israeli checkpoints (you don’t get checked coming from Jerusalem to Ramallah). After a comment at the Kalandia checkpoint, I invited her to guest blog. So here are some reflections from a fresh set of eyes so to speak:

The sun is hot, but thankfully we are under the shade of the roof that covers the vast waiting area of the checkpoint. We’ve arrived and a crowd has already formed, spilling out from where people are lined up to go through a life-sized, heavily barred turn-style. Before one reaches the turn-style, people are queued in what reminds me of what cattle and sheep go through to reach their pen – a corridor with metal bars on both sides. As I am waiting, I look at the people around me, Palestinians old and young, men and women, girls and boys, families, and foreigners. It is a Friday and many are crossing to go to midday prayers held at the mosque, Haram Al-Sharif, in the old city of Jerusalem. It is also the beginning of the weekend. There are men smoking and laughing, women talking amongst each other, and many more standing in silence and waiting in the summer heat. In front of me, there is a boy, around 8 or 9 years old, dressed in a dark blue t-shirt, shorts and sandals. He has dark black hair and big brown eyes. I look down and in his hands he clutches a clear plastic bag that contains water with an orange goldfish. This is all that he carries. He sees me looking at him and his fish, and we smile at each other. I put my hands lightly on his shoulders and bend down in delight to comment on his fish. I ask if it has a name and he says ‘no’, that it’s for his aquarium. The crowd begins to move and we file through the turn-style where we wait again. This time it is the waiting area just before you go through to show your passport to the Israeli officials. As we wait, there is a sense of commune amongst those around us. I feel a part of it somehow, a part of this waiting with them. Some get tired of waiting and move forward to slip in front of others who have also been waiting. Some of the older women comment on this, others stand in silence and wait. I look behind me and a boy stands quietly. He looks up at me with a slightly cross look on his face; I can see that he is tired of waiting. I share his frustration and wonder if the young because of this experience become politicized early in life or if checkpoints have become so part of their everyday that it is merely in the background of daily life. Up ahead a sister and brother, no older than 8 and 10 have come back through the gate. They have been turned away because of their identification. We discern later when their mother shows up that their other siblings got through with their aunt and are waiting on the other side. When the girl sees her mother, she begins to cry, we hear that it’s her birthday. The mother moves them in to another line to wait. We also move into a different line, as we find out that we were in the wrong queue. We also wait. This time the line is faster as it’s the line for people with official passports. We are finally at the front of the line, where they let people in 3 persons at a time. I walk through. An older woman, who walks through before me, turns and smiles broadly. She does not need to say anything; her waiting is over. I walk through the security gate and then to a window where I am asked to show my visa. I show the Israeli guard my passport and he sees that it is Canadian. The guard says, “You’re from Canada, cool.” The soldier is probably no older than 20 years old, closely cut hair, army green uniform, sitting nonchalantly with his legs wide open. He lets me through and I walk out to the other side where I wait for C. As C comes out, the sister and brother with their mother do also. They are reunited with their family so that they can go and celebrate her birthday. There is a sense of relief as we make our way to the buses that will take us to Jerusalem.

The title of this blog entry also comes from the film “Waiting” by Rashid Mashrawi (a Palestinian director) that we saw at the Franco-German Cultural Centre. This film depicts the experience of constant determent, particularly for Palestinian refugees, and the waiting involved during this time of deferment.

My very brief experience of waiting does not even come close to the wait that Palestinians have had to endure.

The frustrations of doing research

2010-07-18T10:45:00.002+03:00

Quite a considerable amount of my research process involves waiting, getting bored, getting frustrated, trying things that fail or lead nowhere. In the last 24 hours I have had the following experiences:

Got bored while waiting for an interview to be arranged. Expected it to happen on Thursday. It eventually happened on Saturday.
Visiting someone, who then doesn't want to conduct an interview.
Ringing someone, to find they are not in the office for most of this week.
Going to the municipality on a Sunday, only to find the door locked shut. Then remembering Ramallah is a Christian municipality, so even though the city starts its week on Sunday, the municipal workers don't come in until Monday.
Tried to do all of the above with blocked sinus (allergies).

Despite the banal nature of these events - these are very much the everyday of conducting ethnographic field research - I still get frustrated/bored/disappointed, and feel like things aren't going well. When I feel this way I remind myself that I must manufacture some optimism as a kind of energy to fuel further endeavours. This isn't always easy.

At least my sinuses are better this morning, and S. arrives for a visit soon

Governing marriage

2010-07-18T10:31:00.000+03:00

As Lisa Taraki’s description of Umm al-Shariya notes, the area is full of wedding halls – places where urban Palestinians go to celebrate their nuptials. (Marriage itself is a legal process, and takes place in a Sharia court). I’ve noticed that these halls are not only busy on weekends, but also during the week. This surprised me a little, although when I mentioned this to a friend, he said it was because Ramadan begins in August this year. Since you can’t get married in that month, everyone who wants a summer wedding, which is most people, have to do so before then.

The reason I was having this conversation with my friend was because he was going to a wedding party that evening in his village, which is in the Ramallah district. This led me to wonder, in villages where traditionally everyone is invited to celebrate weddings (thus preventing more than one wedding each night), how do people decide which couple gets the prime Thursday night spot, and who draws the short straw and has to settle for Monday? The answer, at least in my friend’s village, is that the village council maintain a diary, and decide who gets which date. The village council in question have also taken other steps to regulate marriage. They decreed that people should not invite the entire village to the celebration, only friends from other villages and extended family (although this can still leave you with a massive guest list). Otherwise, as my friend suggests, you can spend 10,000 shekels on the meat alone. The village has also set the price of a dowry at US$ 1000. No haggling any more. While these ordinances governing particular economic aspects of social reproduction are confined to this locality, they are apparently based on similar measures that other villages nearby have taken.

Ramallah – fairest of them all?

2010-07-14T11:44:00.000+03:00

Research is keeping me busy, and at the same time I seem to be suffering from either a summer cold or allergies. Nonetheless, I will try to persist with blogging.

A couple of days ago, I had the pleasure of attending the opening of the exhibition ‘Ramallah – fairest of them all?’ curated by Vera Tamari & Yazid Anani at the Ethnographic & Art Museum, Birzeit University. From the catalogue:

‘Ramallah – the fairest of them all?’ is a self-reflection on Ramallah’s struggle for the title as the fairest of them all? It is an inquisition about the conflict between past and present, about change and coming to terms with new realities through two complimentary, yet separate exhibitions on social history and the contemporaneity of Ramallah. ‘Ramallah – the fairest of them all?’ is an interplay between the duality of exhibition space and urban space, social activism and archeology of social history, public intervention and display.

The gallery exhibition – Ramallah in the past – is a wonderful archive of different civic pasts. This includes a ‘salon’ installation (the living room kept ‘nice’ for guests), a display of sepia wedding photographs, and a large collection of photographs of Ramallah ‘life’ 50-60 year ago. This last collection includes couples socializing in mixed gendered environments; the women wearing skirts above the knee and sleeveless dresses, the men wearing well-cut suits. While at first blush the public morality governing these ways of dressing seems very different from today’s Ramallah (see next paragraph), it is of course possible that these people might well have been more affluent, and perhaps in that sense there is a line of continuity between now and then (which is to say, it is possible to go to certain parts of contemporary Ramallah, and take very similar photographs).

The urban exhibition – Ramallah today – is a set of installations located around Ramallah city centre. There are three different works, two of which are currently present absences. Al Riyadh, a billboard size satire of current neoliberal urban development in the city that is governed by the ideas and dictates of large transnational businesses rather than local architectural vernaculars and communal needs, and Projection, a poster (advertising the film Abi Fawk Al Shajarah) depicting a couple about to engage in a passionate kiss, were both censored (i.e. removed) by the municipality. The only way they are now ‘presenced’ in the city is through small postcards – available at the Ethnographic & Art Museum - that were intended to guide audiences to their locations. They billboards and posters are now displayed around the Birzeit University campus. Only the final piece ‘What’s wrong about having a normal life in Ramallah’ by the dynamic Ramallah Syndrome collective, remains in the city itself. The work poses a series of questions on canvas about what it means to live in Ramallah currently amid the changes that have occurred over the recent two decades. These are being displayed in a number of coffee shops. Other coffee shops refused.

What struck me about the exhibition as a whole was its introverted nature. By this I mean that it staged a conversation that was very much for local people (local here defined primarily as Ramallah, but also Palestinians from other parts of the West Bank). This contrasts quite markedly with most contemporary Palestinians discourses (whether artistic or otherwise), that engage with a whole range of external others (often by necessity). Hence, in this context, what I’ve referred to as introversion is an achievement. It is a crafting or establishment of a more enclosed space, where an ‘internal’ discussion can occur that otherwise wouldn’t. And thus (and this may seem like something of a paradox) it also establishes a space that goes beyond (‘outside’) the familiar.

Well worth a visit if you’re in town!

Shorts and T’s

2010-07-11T15:21:00.000+03:00

Things I’ve noticed in Ramallah that I didn’t see on previous visits:

Men wearing shorts. Not many, but still, a few.

Couples holding hands. Again, just a few.

People with US college t-shirts (the ones with the university name printed in large block capitals). I’ve seen Illini (Illinois), Berkeley (UC Berkeley) and Golden Eagles (Marquette if I’m not mistaken). I wonder if these t-shirts are markers of distinction?

Wein a’Ramallah

2010-07-11T15:20:00.001+03:00

After yesterday’s rather conceptual effort, a return to less abstract affair: the weeklong Wein a’Ramallah festival is currently being held. It’s an annual event, and part of the Ramallah Centennial Project (1908-2008). On Thursday evening – the beginning of the weekend here – we went to see the opening night performance, a concert by a group from Acre called Zaman (meaning ‘along time ago’, or in this context perhaps better translated as ‘heritage’). The event, held in an open space (maybe car park) opposite the Ramallah municipality, began late. In this context, this is not a real surprise except this event was being filmed for Palestinian television. I thought television scheduling was more ‘reliable’, but I don’t watch enough to know.

After the host, a young women in traditional Palestinian dress, welcomed us, the national anthem started to blare over the speakers and everyone stood up. This anthem is quite a recent creation, and didn’t inspire the assembled crowds in the ways we saw at the football world cup, or even later in the evening when the ‘national’ songs started. After this, the speeches began. The Mayor of Ramallah, the national Minister of Culture, and the Governor all outlined why culture and art was important for the city/the Palestinian people/the Arab world, and then thanked the sponsors. I noted two things in relation to this part of the event. 1) All the speeches were long and boring. Apparently the Minister for Culture has appalling grammar. 2) All of these dignitaries were women. The Governor – the final speaker – even joked that because they waited for so long to take the reins of power, they had a lot to say, and we had to listen. Everyone laughed at the joke, before being bored for the third and final time.

Then, finally, it was time for Zaman to start playing. They began by playing rhythm while the three guitars were tuned and some feedback issues were sorted out (there was even a roadie with a mullet!). (The rest of the group consisted of a bassist, a drummer and a guy playing tom toms/tambla). Playing a style I would rather inadequately describe as something like a mix of pop and folk, they covered a series of famous songs. During one number - Rozana – a rotund elderly man took the hand of the mayor and they began to dance in the area in front of the stage. It didn’t take any time at all for about 6 or 7 more senior ladies to jump up to and, much to everyone’s enjoyment, show the assembled masses that they can still move. One of these ladies was particularly spry. The band seized on the momentum and launched straight into Wein a’Ramallah (Where is Ramallah), the popular song from which the festival takes its name that had everyone clapping and singing along. After a romantic number, a few more popular numbers that got a handful of shabab (young men) on the ‘floor’ doing the almost obligatory and always awkward dubka, and a couple more songs where people started to lose interest, Zaman rounded things off with some ‘national’ songs (described by one friend as ‘about fighting occupation, violence, etc’) and another rendition of Wein a’Ramallah. The quite considerable crowd, which had thinned out a little during the 2 hour concert, left happy and humming.

State Phobia?

2010-07-10T17:57:00.000+03:00

I recently read a very thought-provoking essay written by a colleague about the relationship between structures of feeling and power. This description is a simplification, but since the essay is currently under review I don’t want to divulge any of the broader arguments. One of the more specific points the author makes, extending the work of French theorist Michel Foucault, is that one (among many) of the ways in which neo-liberalism can be characterized is through a particular structure of feeling (‘atmosphere’) called state phobia. This is a general concern about the excessive nature of the state, particularly as it governs (regulates) markets.

This idea really fascinates me, working in a context where there is no clearly discernible state – at least according to the standards and measures of liberal democracy. Instead there is an (Israeli) occupying power, which crudely speaking, seeks to govern (secure) as much territory as possible with as few political subjects therein, and a (Palestinian) ‘Authority’, which partially governs subjects but controls little territory, or hardly any of the territory it aspires to govern, regardless of whether these aspirations relate to pre ’48 or ’67 lands. (I wonder if in its current state, the Palestinian Authority might be better thought of as a management firm). The question therefore, is if state phobia is characteristic of neo-liberalism in liberal-democratic societies as my colleague argues, what happens to this relationship (between state phobia and neoliberalism) in the absence of the liberal democratic state/space?

From where I write, my initial thoughts are that there is a range of sometimes complimentary, sometimes contradictory structures of feeling in relation to the state, some of which are developing through current economic practices that might be considered neoliberal.

A long-standing desire for a Palestinian nation-state (that stretches back into the British mandatory period at least).
A more recent longing - at least among some Palestinians, particularly in Ramallah, for a good life, defined as economic advancement. This longing has sidelined/superseded the previous desire for a political state, in part due to the length of time such a hope has gone unrealized. This second structure of feeling resonates with…
A (even more?) recent dream of economic nationalism as a precursor to political nationalism (Fayyadism, although it remains to be seen how widely this dream is shared, although Fayyad does command the infrastructure of the PA). This politics shares a not so secret affinity with…
A dream of economic nationalism in place of political nationalism (Netanyahu’s economic peace). Something that is akin to a contemporary refiguring of...
Zionist practices of erasure in relation to Palestine/Palestinians, which in some ways could be narrated as an Israeli phobia of a Palestinian state.
A Palestinian phobia of the Israeli state, as it is manifest through colonialism.

(N.B. This list doesn’t even begin to comprehend the atmospheres circulating among Palestinians living in spaces of refuge and diaspora).

At present then, I’m inclined to think that (a) state phobia in this context is related to colonialism as much as capitalism, and offers insight into the multiple ways in which colonialism and capitalism resonate together, which is to say that it is not simply that neoliberalism opportunistically fills (or maps onto) the state-free site of colonial subjugation (b) there are important and complex geographical dimensions to the problem of state phobia and neoliberalism (and this is perhaps where my bracketed references to diaspora and refugees needs to be taken into account to a much greater extent).

Mobile Phones

2010-07-08T12:46:00.005+03:00

I had to get a new SIM card for my phone yesterday, because Orange, the Israeli based company that I previously used, is now ‘mumnoor’ (forbidden) in Palestine. So I am now a Jawwal customer – a company owned by a very rich man from Nablus who lives outside Palestine (I can’t remember if he’s in a Gulf state or Lebanon). I thought it was interesting that the boycott of Israeli goods (a campaign designed to affect practices of occupation) can actually be an economic policy that stimulates domestic markets. I wonder if this was the intention?

Chauffeured Democracy

2010-07-08T12:45:00.001+03:00

A couple of days ago I was sitting in one of the restaurants that cater to foreigners and more affluent, liberal Palestinians (key indicators of such spaces in addition to the clientele are the presence of a certain aesthetic, alcohol and certain foods. The owner (a larger than life character who declared that my accent was Australian and was adamant that he was right,) was trying a potential new addition to the menu – steak and onion pie – while we were paying the bill). On the table next to us sat Mustafa Barghouti with two young women, who may well have been his granddaughters. Barghouti is one of the most recognizable politicians in Palestine, primarily because he is a critic of Fatah and advocates the only non-violent political platform (he does support nonviolent resistance), and is therefore popular in the West. There is nothing particularly exceptional about seeing him in this space. However, when he left the restaurant my friend pointed to his car, a large 4x4. Sat in the front seat was a driver. In fact, the driver had been sat in the front seat the whole time Barghouti had been eating – at least an hour. This conspicuous display of wealth – it’s very unusual, even for the affluent middle classes, to have a chauffeur – was jarring for at least two reasons.

Firstly, as my friend noted, you simply wouldn’t see conspicuous displays of consumption like this even ten years ago. While during the second intifada (2000-2004/5) there were great efforts to keep life as normal as possible, some of the cultures of austerity that developed during the first intifada (1987-1992) still prevailed. More affluent members of society would on the whole be far more discrete. In 2005, I remember there were a group of guys who would come to a restaurant I would frequent in the nearby town of Birzeit, to drink alcohol away from watchful eyes in Ramallah. Examples of this discretion still exist: another restaurant in Ramallah I visited later the same day had a largely obscured upstairs section where people can eat and drink away from the (potential) public gaze.

Secondly, for a self-styled man of the people and champion of democracy, he certainly seems to live a very different lifestyle from nearly all of his would be subjects. The chauffeured style of democratic politics that he embodies is perhaps both a good example of the consequences of, and a good metaphor for, the broader development of the economically liberalized non-state (or state affectation) that Israel and Fayad are currently pursuing. As an exemplar it clearly shows how new elites are emerging from conditions of increasing socio-economic polarization. As a metaphor: when someone is being driven around, they are never ultimately in control of the car or which direction it heads in.

Where I live...

2010-07-06T19:24:00.000+03:00

"A new neighborhood with the unseemly name of Umm al-Sharayit is one of these areas: a sprawling settlement housing a hodgepodge of badly kept apartment buildings, public facilities such as PA ministries, commercial establishments, sha‘bi restaurants, automobile repair shops, and wedding halls"

Lisa Taraki (2008) Enclave Micropolis: The Paradoxical Case of Ramallah/Al-Beirah. Journal of Palestine Studies.

My apartment is not badly kept! (Everything else is accurate).

On the economy and the occupation

2010-07-03T20:14:00.000+03:00

I asked a good friend of mine what he thought had changed since my previous visit in 2007. He told me that 'Ramallah doesn't fight wars anymore. It is only concerned with making a good economy'. Although I didn't think about this much before I came, this relationship between (neoliberal) economic development and the current phase of the Israeli Occupation will be one of the key questions that animates my research.

In a previous post I alluded to a potential parallel between a historical event (the first Palestinian intifada (uprising) which began in 1987) and a potential future (an anticipated third intifada). I have also been struck by another parallel. When Israel invaded the West Bank and Gaza Strip in 1967, many of their initial policies with regards to the newly colonized Palestinian populations under their control promoted economic development. As detailed by Neve Gordon in his book Israel's Occupation, these policies were designed to benefit the Israeli economy, but also to discourage the formation of any national political consciousness. As history teaches us, these attempts to discipline the occupied population failed.

In the present day, Netanyahu's is waging an economic peace campaign, ably assisted by former International Monetary Fund employee and Palestinian Prime Minister Salem Fayyed. International activism against the Israeli Occupation has also recently taken on an explicitly economic dimension in the form of the Boycott, Divestment, Sanctions campaign. Current attempts by the Israeli government to pass legislation that would ban the promotion of such boycotts, and punish both Israeli and foreign internationals found guilty of doing so, are perhaps the most significant indicator that the BDS movement is effective.

Faced with such parallels, perhaps the most appealing question to ask is what kind of future will be manifest by this current turn to economism. While it is tempting to think that the promotion of economic 'good' in the place of political agency will lead to history repeating itself, present day conditions are very different from the 1970s, not least because of the historical legacy. Massive tracts of land have now been colonised by Israeli settler-colonists. While I don't know enough about the geographies of the Occupation in the 1970s, present day events both take place amidst, and create, uneven geographical development within West Bank, and between the West Bank and Gaza. Perhaps the more pertinent question to ask is therefore how can we understand the emerging relationship between colonialism and neoliberalism? My sense is that what we are facing is not some kind of hybrid colonial-economic form, but rather two distinct assemblages of practices, discourses and ethos that have found (new) ways of resonating with each other, in a way that is similar to the American style Capitalism and Christianity that Bill Connolly analyses. While religion might also play a role in the Palestinian context, this has been commented upon rather more extensively.

This relationship is something I hope to discuss with people who live and work here in forthcoming weeks. So consider the musings in this post preliminary thoughts that will develop this summer (hopefully).

Moving in

2010-07-03T19:55:00.000+03:00

A brief follow up on my previous post. After one night in a hotel, I moved into what will be my home for the next two months. The apartment is very nice. It was built for the owner himself to live in, so the furniture and fittings are very nice. However, after settling in, the apartment reminds me of something Edward Said notes in the book After the Last Sky. Examining photographs of ‘Palestinian interiors’ taken by Jean Mohr, Said suggests that there is always something a little bit off about these spaces. They are always a little too cluttered, and juxtapose elements that don’t go together well, something he traces back to the experience of exile.

In my apartment, things are also a little bit off, but in a slightly different way. The owner has gone to great lengths to furnish the place beautifully, and for the most part the aesthetic works. But – and perhaps this simply says something about the landlord himself - some smaller details have seemingly been overlooked. There are knives and spoons but no forks in the cutlery draw. There is a lemon juicer but no plates or bowls. A handle is missing from one of the wardrobe doors, even though the wardrobe appears to be brand new. An apparently new sink has a rusted drain cover. There are three bathrooms, two televisions with satellite connections, a sitting room to receive guests, a traditional Arab sitting room (a rug and cushions on the floor) and a balcony, but no dinning table. It almost feels like someone’s idea of a house, without the sense of a house that has actually been lived in… and as I understand it, this is the case.

Finding an apartment

2010-07-03T19:48:00.008+03:00

My first task when I arrived was to find an apartment. Prior to my arrival I had already contacted two friends to ask if they knew about any places. They in turn asked ‘estate agents’ to find a suitable place for me. An estate agent in Ramallah is not a full time job, or at least it wasn’t the main form of income for the two gentlemen who showed me apartments. One is a taxi driver, the other works as an accountant for the local office of a transnational corporation. The taxi driver suggested that driving a car was his secondary profession, while the accountant was adamant that being an estate agent was a way to earn additional income.

It seems that in order to be a good estate agent in Ramallah, one must know the city well. This means developing extensive social networks so that you can become attuned to any emerging opportunities. However, access to information is not enough. You must also know how and when to use it. And even this attunement is speculative. There will be times when the information you have cannot be used, or cannot be used well (i.e. profitably). Perhaps this is why being an estate agent is a part time job for the two gentlemen I met.

An estate agent only makes money if the person seeking to rent a flat actually agrees to rent the flat. The estate agent then gets something equivalent to a one-time finders fee – between US$ 150-200 – for his services. In my case, I saw two flats. The first was on the 5^th floor of a building without a lift; about 15 minutes walk from the city centre. The second was a little bit further away, but brand-new. The owner intended to move in when he got married, but when his marriage fell through, he was left with an almost fully furnished flat and no one to share it with. I took the second flat. The estate agent who found this owner (and in a sense found me, and paired us together) received his $150 fee. The other estate agent received nothing, although the services he provided were identical. And I received an additional benefit through the first estate agent's participation in the process, because the second estate agent encouraged (and secured) a cheaper rent on the apartment I ended up renting to match the price of the first apartment that I didn’t take.

While this practice is something I would like to investigate further, at first blush it provides a good illustration of how Ramallah itself is an opportunity; a place where things happen; a site for experiment and speculation. The outcomes cannot be known in advance, but there is always the promise of success/reward. Even my own performance in the above drama can be scripted as the ability to plug into certain, fleeting networks at an opportune moment to derive an outcome that benefits me.

While these stories could conceivably be told in any city, the geographical specificity of them should not be taken for granted. On Thursday night I was talking to another friend who now lives in Khalil (Hebron), but was visiting Ramallah for the weekend (as he does every weekend). He moved to Khalil for work, and one of the stories he told me was how hard it was to find a place to live there. Due to the ‘conservative’ nature of the local society (his words), people were unwilling to rent to a single man. A single man, so the story goes, plays cards, makes too much noise and is generally unpleasant. Even when my friend did eventually find a place, a neighbour subsequently accused him – falsely - of bringing women back to his apartment.

Perhaps the two stories are not strictly comparable. I am a foreigner, while my friend is from a different part of Palestine, although this doesn’t necessarily make him less of an outsider, just a different type of outsider. However, I think the difference experiences do illustrate a broader difference between the cities, and the ways in which urban life functions in each respective context. In Ramallah, the circulation of knowledge and people attends to external flows (knowledge and people coming from outside the city) in different ways from Khalil. While Ramallah welcomes such externalities (perhaps we might say the city embodies a enthusiastically hospitable ethos), Khalil displays a far more constrained ethos of hospitality. Although at the moment I would only say this about housing and house hunting.

Ramallah 2010

2010-07-01T14:18:00.003+03:00

I've just returned to Ramallah. It's been 2 1/2 years since my previous visit. Although it sounds trite and predictable, some things have changed, while other things have stayed the same.

The bus service from Jerusalem to Ramallah is now 1 1/2 shekels more expensive. Beit Tounia, a town you pass through when travelling from Jerusalem to Ramallah, is full of construction sites and new buildings. Tirah, another outlying district on the other side of Ramallah, has also grown rapidly. Ramallah itself now houses some new, very large and very shiny buildings, including the Movenpick - 10 years in the making apparently. I haven't yet been asked for my opinion about life in Palestine (a previously common refrain), but a number of people have already discussed moving abroad and how hard it is to get a visa.

However, many of the same shops remain much the same. I sat in one coffee shop with a friend last night and everything seemed very familiar: the card games, the tea, the arguilla (water pipes). I even remembered the owner, who lived in San Francisco for 10 years. He didn't recall me. The weather in June is still hot, but there's still a breeze that cools you down in the shade.

My first impression is that things are quiet... or at least certainly a lot quieter than during previous visits. The Kalandia checkpoint has a massive car park in front of it now, and you can't see the actual checkpoint - a cattle gate like system - from the road. I wonder if this is a microcosm of Ramallah's occupation. Covered over, hidden away but still working silently. And perhaps this is more deadly in its own way, since it's harder to deal with problems and issues that can't be seen. Some journalists have recently predicted the coming of the third intifada. If this is true, it will be like the first intifada - a surprise; something people didn't see coming. But perhaps this is just the case for Ramallah. Or perhaps it's not even the case for Ramallah, but simply my initial impression. To end with another trite cliche, first impressions are usually deceptive.

Picking Olives

2007-10-29T13:05:00.000+02:00

Prior to this trip I imagined the olive harvest in Palestine to be a bit more of a discrete, definable ‘event’. What I’ve found is that it’s far less organized and centralized. You might see a few people picking their olives here and there, but I’ve never seen a massive crowd fill the trees in one particular area. Despite there being a set date when harvesting should begin, people in this village have being picking in a very piecemeal fashion. This might be because of the lack of rain, which many people wait and hope for at this time of the year to clean the olives. Who knows…

Anyway, this weekend, a friend of mine who lives in Abu Falah, a village so far on the edge of the Ramallah district it’s about half way to Nablus, invited me to help his family pick olives. His father picked me up on Friday in his private taxi, and after an hour crawling around Ramallah looking for non-existant Friday lunchtime business, we drove back to Abu Falah just as midday prayers were ending. We then made the rather bumpy (and comical) ride from H.’s (my friend) house to where their trees grow, with a giant wooden ladder balanced on the wing mirror and H. and I, arms out of the window, holding the ladder up. (Later in the weekend, Abu H. arrived at the house dragging half an olive tree behind his car, with the trunk wedged in the boot of the car).

Abu Falah (literal translation: father of success) is high above sea level, hence the date for their harvest was much later than other villages. Although the “entire” village was picking their olives, I only made out a couple of other families in the area where we were, although the sight lines didn’t extend very far. In fact it was usually the sound of voices which drifted towards us.

When we arrived, H. family where already there and had started to pick olives from a small sapling. I asked H. how people knew which trees belonged to which families but he wasn’t sure. He was adamant that the trees we were picking belonged to his family though. (When I say family, I’m referring to the immediate family, not the extended family). We spread the tarpaulin sheets beneath one of the three big (and hence old) trees that belong to them and the aforementioned ladder, which turned out to be slightly asymmetric, was propped against the tree precariously, but securely. I actually preferred climbing the tree to the ladder, since the branches were strong and could support an adult human with ease. (Perhaps this contributes to the mythology of olive trees around these parts, which also provide people with economic support). With everything in place we began to pick the olives, which involves using pulling your hands down the branches in a stripping motion. There were also a couple of small plastic rakes, which do the job more effectively. As the olives fell on the tarpaulin they made a pitter patter sound like light rain. Wearing a hat is advisable if you’re on the ground to keep the olives dropping from above from hitting your face.

H. has a typically large family (eight sisters, two brothers), although only four sisters were helping both brothers and his parents with the harvest. (Schools and universities have midterm exams at this time of year). They seemed curious about me (as a foreigner) at first, and then after the obligatory ‘how do you see Palestine’ questions quickly became amused by my accent and laugh. (H.’s youngest sister, eight years old, mimicked me with amazing accuracy. In return I taught her how to pronounce the letter ‘p’. Anyone who has traveled in Arab speaking countries - where there is no ‘p’ in the alphabet - knows this is no small achievement. She still pronounced Sprite, su-brite though). When they weren’t laughing at me or trying to teach me Fairouz songs, they were generally asking if I was hunger or thirsty. I found it hard to understand their village accents, which are thicker than the Ramallah (city) dialect. H. younger brother, who forgot my name constantly, eventually said it was a nice name. I suggested he should called his first son old man, and then he could be abu old man for the rest of his life.

Although we all picked olives together, we ate lunch separately according to gender. Our picnic consisted almost entirely of homemade (or grown) foods, ranging from wheat bread to boiled egg, falafel, tomatoes, cucumbers, pickles, something like tzaziki (except made with lebana not yoghurt) and of course some olives (although not the ones we’d picked that morning of course). After lunch H. father went back to work driving his taxi.

After a section of the tree has been picked, the tarpaulin sheets are carefully moved to under another section of the tree. We then had to pick up the olives that had narrowly missed the tarp in the previous spot and landed amongst the soil and rocks, although this job seemed largely assigned to the younger girls. When enough olives had fallen, H. mother would scoop them into a bucket, and then holding the bucket high above her head tip them into another bucket. If this process coincided with a strong breeze, the leaves that were mixed with the olives would be blown out of the mixture as they fell. That’s technology! I tried this myself on Saturday, but half my olives missed the bucket on the floor!

As the day wore on I became more confident climbing the tree and reaching the higher areas. Climbing trees, bracing with your legs and holding branches with your arms is tiring, although I wasn’t as exhausted as I had anticipated. The branches graze your hands and forearms, and these little red lines are accentuated by the dust that turns your hands a pale dirty white colour, except for the odd patch of mud. Your clothes get dirty too, and I have a great big purple olive stain on my t-shirt now. By the end of the day I had some how managed to acquire a kuffiyeh from H. youngest brother, which I wore around my neck to protect it against the sun. A number of olives fell into its folds, and I even found an olive in my pocket on Saturday. The weather was sunny on the whole, although not scorching hot. The trees also provided shade.

The sun disappeared behind the mountains quite early and we finished working before sunset, itself before 5. The 15/20 walk across stone covered tracks back to the village was more tiring than the work itself, and we were hurried along by a flock of sheep following close behind us. H., his youngest sister and I returned home before the others to wash and relax. We were joined by a friend of H.’s from the village who spoke good English, and worked on a building site in Ramallah. Then, with his other brothers, we ate ma’luube prepared by his mother who had been picking olives with us all day just as we had. After an evening of music and dancing (mainly by H. youngest brother) I slept well until the muezzin woke me, and the mosquitoes conspired to keep me awake.

The next day we return to pick two more trees and a couple of saplings. Our numbers were down from day one, since H. brother has returned to university in Jenin, and his father worked the entire day. When we’re finished there are enough olives to fill six UNRWA sacks that originally contained something else, although I can’t remember what now – maybe rice or grain. These will be taken to the press, where they’ll be cleaned and pressed. H. mother told me they pick enough to sell some and send some to relatives abroad. She also told me my accent reminds her of her relatives who live in London. She cooked H., his younger brother and I mu’sachken for dinner that night.

After dinner I hear the story of a man in the village who has died the previous day after he was run over by a horse. Apparently the teenage rider was inexperienced, and the horse was scared of cars. Having thrown the rider, the horse bolted up the main street of Abu Falah. The man, in his mid-sixties was hit pushing two young girls to safety. Apparently it was the impact of fall on the stones that caused the multiple fractures and breaks. He was in a coma for two weeks, and as a diabetic his recovery was always in doubt. He lived in Brazil for thirty years. It was a tragic accident.

A short history of W.

2007-10-24T17:04:00.001+02:00

W. is a friend of mine who has lived in the village for 4 years now. He is originally from the Tulkarem area and provides an interesting snapshot of the population dynamics here in Palestine, and particularly the Ramallah area at the moment. After a period in catering college in Amman, W. came here with his brother who was attending the University of Birzeit. His brother is now working for Jawal and another brother now lives here and studies at the university.

When I first met W. he was working as a chef in a restaurant owned by a local man who had many years of experience in this line of work. The restaurant subsequently shut due to financial issues and W. worked on some building sites, then as a gardener in Ramallah, then as a waiter in Al Beirah. I returned to find him now the owner of a restaurant in the village once again, which he says is doing ok at the moment. He married a woman from a nearby village in May, and his wife is now four months pregnant with a girl. He told me prior to finding out the gender that (unlike many men) he would like a girl, but didn’t know why. He intended to call her Amani, which he tells me means ‘dreams’.

I frequently see him and his assistant sitting outside or just inside the entrance to the restaurant, which gave me the impression business was not good. However, when I went there for coffee, they both sat with me there despite the fact they had customers inside (albeit a pair of university couples who probably didn’t want to be disturbed). The restaurant opens sometime during the morning, and seems to stay open until late at night. W. says his wife isn’t happy about this, but it’s a new business so what can he do. When I asked him if his wife works, he says she stays at home. He claims they don’t need the income – a claim that makes little sense here, especially when you’re renting a house and have a baby on the way – and then perhaps more revealingly says he doesn’t want his wife to work and looking after an infant will be work enough.

Despite not growing up here, he knows many of the villagers, which he puts down to working in restaurants where they would be customers, and also working on building sites around town. (Building sites being places to build social relations as much as houses). He tells his assistant he has known me for five years (even though it’s only been two) and that I’m a good man. He also wouldn’t let me pay for my drink.

Some random Ramallah notes

2007-10-24T17:03:00.001+02:00

Did I mention the new traffic lights popping up all over the centre of Ramallah? I know there were a handful when I was last here 14 months ago, but now they’re all over the place and people are actually quite good about obeying them. Maybe it’s all the police Abbas has put on the street.

A friend who has graduated from university is thinking about getting married. It’s amazing how different this process is here. He’s from a small village and he wouldn’t even be able to talk to his fiancé until they got engaged. I still can’t figure out what expectations village guys have here when they get married, beyond sex. It’s social convention to get married when you finish education, and I suggested he could go to the university to meet girls and actually get to know them before getting engaged, which a lot of under/graduates do now, either during or just after their time at university. This suggestion just seemed like too much effort for him though. Our mutual friend who was with us also thought the university idea was a much better option, although he plans on traveling so he has no desire to marry at the moment.

I was speaking to a friend who works for the World Bank in Ramallah, as one of six coordinators running the Social Safety Net Reform Project here in Palestine. The project gives roughly 1000 shekels a month (divide by 4 for dollars and 8 for pounds) to the poorest families in Palestine, and currently supports about 50000 people. My friend said that although the donations were spread all over Palestine, there were a lot of poor people in the villages around Khalil (Hebron) who used to work in Israel before the intifada closures prevented them from doing so. Each district of Palestine has roughly 6 field researchers who assess the families every six months. Apparently a number of other donor organizations have been using their database to target charitable projects. Despite being fully aware of the dubious politics of the World Bank, he said the work they do here is mainly focused on children’s health and education, so it avoids the ‘hidden politics’ as he terms it. He makes $800 a month, which is an excellent wage here in Palestine.

Beating school children

2007-10-24T17:02:00.001+02:00

I met some friends in Ramallah yesterday who work for the Ministry of Education, meaning they’re teachers in public schools. One was telling me he had to dye his hair, because the stress of teaching is causing him to go prematurely grey. He teaches English to classes of around 40 students. His friend is the equivalent of a school counselor and says his jobs involves dealing with fights between the pupils, and also fights between the pupils and the staff. I’m somewhat taken aback by this idea, but my friend say he hit an eighteen year old guy across the neck and slapped him in the face the other day, and then this kid wanted to fight and they had to be pulled apart by staff and pupils. Part of me found this hilarious, especially since my friend isn’t someone you’d expect to be violent, but I also told them a teacher would be sacked and thrown in prison for hitting a pupil where I’m from. By contrast my friend was sure you’d get thrown in prison for kissing a girl (in public) here in Palestine. Sex, violence and geography.

(p.s. I’m know all my teacher friends and relatives back home are all probably now thinking that the education system isn’t so bad in Palestine if you can hit kids).

Searching for Dr Nasser

2007-10-24T16:59:00.000+02:00

Dr Hanna Nasser is a very esteemed gentleman around these parts. He was the first president of Birzeit University and is now the chief commissioner for the Central Elections Committee. I’ve been trying to speak with him.

Easier said than done.

First I tried asking around the village to see if anyone knew him. Of course, everyone ‘knows’ him, but no one has his mobile. Then I get his home phone number from directory enquiries. I call frequently for two days and get no answer.

So I call the Election Committee office. First time, no one is answering the main switchboard. Second try, I get through to a secretary before the line goes dead abruptly. Third try I get through to a guy who says Dr Nasser is busy and I should call back in five minutes. On my fourth try I have a conversation with the secretary, who says Dr Nasser has left the country for a week, but takes my phone number.

I don’t think I’ll be talking to Dr Nasser.

A lot of the time research is fun. But often it’s really hard work too.

A review of Michael Taussig’s ‘My Cocaine Museum’

2007-10-20T19:42:00.000+02:00

My Cocaine Museum (henceforth MCM) is a fascinating book, and I have held that opinion since I first read it a few years ago. After multiple re-readings and engagement with other work, I want to try and articulate why I find it such a compelling and challenging text, and ultimately a mode of scholarship worth emulating.

Providing a synopsis of the book is a challenge in and of itself, and speaks to the wide variety of subjects and issues that Taussig’s work tackles. It is at once a parody of the Gold Museum in Columbia’s central bank, the Banco de la Republica, in Bogota, a journey that is both literal (from mountains to the coast and out into the sea) and metaphorical (from past to present, from capital to violence and death), and a montage of the histories and geographies of gold, cocaine, slavery, colonialism and many other ‘things’. And it is a whole lot more besides.

I like to think about this book as a work about bodies. These bodies include those of humans, in all their sweaty, spit filled glory, but also the bodies of rivers, stones and swamps. We might even think about the economies, buildings, codes of conduct and islands that Taussig writes about as bodies: things that circulate and affect one another. By quite literally presenting all these bodies (as the Gold Museum presents its gold), Taussig traces and follows the multiple connections have with each other, and particularly with gold and cocaine. Hence I think another way of summarizing this book would be to suggest that it presents us with the complexity of a life that is at once politics, histories, economies, materials and desires, without these terms being collapsed in on one another.

MCM also takes the aesthetics of presentation very seriously, which means the poetics of the text are not simply their to make it readable – although like all the best books MCM is hard to put down. As Taussig well knows, the poetics of a text are also its force. What is a book if it is not another body, circulating in world full of them, while affecting some of them. Perhaps.

While not immediately obvious, (or perhaps not as easy to articulate at first – I’ve read the book three times now) is the brilliance of this theoretical contribution. Taussig refuses to reduce his work to generalizing signifiers (‘space of exception’, ‘actor-networks’) because he refuses to stand outside of the flows and process of which he is a part (but suggesting his work is particularistic would be a grave misunderstanding). While many advocate ‘modest’ theorization, few actually have the confidence to practice what they preach.

In my own work I have tried (and inevitably failed, but tried nonetheless) to write like this. Powerful, critical and evocative, Taussig’s work is for me exemplary (social science) research.

“This is my magic and this is why we write and why we write strange apotropaic texts like My Cocaine Museum, made of hundreds of spells, hundreds and thousands of spells, intended to break the catastrophic spell of things, starting with the smashing of vitrines whose sole purpose is to uphold the view that you are you and over there is there and here you are – looking at captured objects, from the outside. But now, no more!” (p.315)

Architectures (of buildings and social life)

2007-10-20T19:41:00.000+02:00

I was talking with a friend who lives in Ramallah on an almost permanent basis, and he was telling me about the new apartments and houses being built in Ateera, a suburb of Ramallah that is rapidly expanding the city northwards. Apparently, and I have glimpsed this myself, the buildings are following the identikit terracing style of Israeli settlements. This colonial mimesis is fascinating, and mirrors an earlier example where affluent Palestinians used (and continue to use) red roof tiles to decorate their houses. These tiles, which are another distinctive feature of Israeli settlements, date back to the British Occupation of Palestine. I would be fascinated to learn the extent to which the use of the tiles on settlement buildings draws on this colonial history.

My final Thursday night story is about my final experience at the bar we were in. As we were leaving, we (and I emphasize the collective nature of this experience) saw a woman near the entrance who was wearing shorts (kind of skirt like ones). Although many people at that bar were Westerners, and have seen many women wear shorts and short skirts, this sight was stunning. People were literally stood still staring at her. The reason is that women always cover their legs in public in Palestine. Even in liberal Ramallah, where tight tops and jeans are the norm, this was an unexpected (and for me unprecedented) sight. It was also interesting to reflect (the next day) on the ways in which a place can socialize the people that constitute it (rather than the other way around). Even though this would have been the most banal and ordinary event if I had been in Europe or North America, a different space produced an entirely different affective and cognitive response.

Thoughts about Occupation

2007-10-20T19:19:00.000+02:00

I wanted to get outside today because people have started to harvest their trees, but I woke up with a mind full of thoughts, which has inspired me to do a great deal of writing instead.

On Thursday night (start of the weekend) I went to one of the bars in Ramallah that caters to the city’s Westerners and anyone else who wants to spend their social time in a mixed-gendered space where you can drink alcohol and meet foreigners. During the course of the evening I was talking with a Swedish girl, who like some of the foreigners who visit Palestine (but rarely stay for the long term) is a true zealot of the Palestinian cause. (This isn’t to suggest that every other foreigner in Ramallah doesn’t support Palestine, just that they aren’t zealous). As we sat there, in the middle of this bar which is like most other bars in most other countries I’ve lived in, this girl bemoans how miserable life in Palestine is.

Was this a deliberately ironic statement, made to foreground the social inequality in Palestine and further suggest that this inequality allows a few folks in Ramallah to exist in a bubble? The answer was no, it wasn’t that sophisticated. Instead I think it reflects the way in which most people view Palestine as simply a space of Occupation. This is easy to do when you’re not living in Palestine, because all the media (both corporate and activist) tell you about is different forms of violence and/or high level political processes. However, when you actually come here, and see people who like to celebrate, have to go to work, and have traditions stretching back (and also modified by) centuries, I for one find it harder to simply view life here solely through the lens of Occupation. Yes, the Occupation has affected Palestinian society profoundly, but sometimes people like to have a drink on a Thursday night because it’s fun to socialize and relax after a week’s work. You don’t necessarily have to be ‘escaping’ anything, although I’m sure there are those who do. It really speaks to the strength and power of particular representations of Palestine when foreigners visit, are confronted by a variety of different material and social circumstances, and still reproduced the same distanced, myopic narratives. (Of course many Palestinians will often encourage these perspectives, but that’s a different story).

This leaves the question of whether it is only a privileged few are enable to enjoy this ‘richer’ experience of life. I would suggest however that it takes a certain type of arrogance/ignorance to propose that just because you’re poorer, you don’t like to socialize and relax over the weekend. The bar, like many other places in Ramallah, is most definitely a manifestation of the social inequality here, but mostly everyone loves Thursday night.

Some preliminary notes on the olive harvest

2007-10-15T17:12:00.000+02:00

It’s the last day of Eid today – since the first day of the holiday fell on a Friday (the weekend), they add the third day on today – so it’s very quiet this morning (no school, no university buses, fewer taxis).

I found out last night that the olive harvest begins on a certain date each year, which depends on the environmental conditions and growth cycle of the olives. This date is chosen by the agricultural committee in each village, which is just one man here, and I don’t know if he’s set a date or what that date is. However, as I was walking around the village this morning I noticed a few people had begun to pick olives. Despite the fact that the village is ‘famous’ for its olives (isn’t every village in Palestine?), and while many villagers own large amounts of land covered with olive trees, few of them actively farm their land these days. They now work in Ramallah and the surrounding area, or live in the US, which begs the question who then picks the olives? A friend whose five brothers live abroad told me that many people pay people from the North to pick their olives now. He is thinking about asking his neighbours to pick some of his olives too and then split the proceeds fifty-fifty. Another interesting tit-bit I found out during the course of this conversation was that the olive press in the village, an old one made of stone, is no longer operational. The owner moved to the US, and it has remained shut since he left. Now villagers have to take their olives to be pressed in a neighbouring village. The disadvantage of this is that they use a newer metallic press, which doesn’t produce the same flavour as olives pressed by stone.

Jobs for the boys

2007-10-12T18:39:00.000+02:00

When I was in Ramallah a couple of days ago, I bumped into a number of old friends, who have graduated from university since the last time I was here and are now working. Three of the guys got bachelor degrees in the same subject that I study. One is now working as a truck driver at a concrete factory. Another is a waiter in a restaurant in Ramallah. The third is working for the Palestinian Central Bureau for Statistics. Only the last job requires a university degree.

I’ve also met a couple of friends who graduated with business degrees and now have jobs for Jawal, the mobile phone company. In fact Jawal is pretty much the only Palestinian company of any size. It also has a monopoly over the phone market, although another company is starting up soon. (Or you can go with Orange, although the reception isn’t good unless you’re near a settlement). The selection process for Jawal is incredibly drawn out, involving an interview, apprenticeship and then another interview, and it’s great for that my friends eventually got jobs as salesmen and marketers. However their achievement is something of an anomaly in an economy in which a paucity of jobs leads university graduates to wait tables and drive trucks.

Ramallah During Ramadan

2007-10-11T10:29:00.000+02:00

When I passed through Ramallah last week – in the morning – I noted how quiet it was. Yesterday I went to meet some friends in the afternoon, and the contrast was vast. The city was full of people wandering between all the shops and market stalls. The police had even closed off one of the streets leading off the Manara (town centre) so that an impromptu Eid street market could take place there. Eid – the end of the month of Ramadan, indicated by a new moon – is only days away (Friday or Saturday). It’s also perhaps the biggest day of celebration in the Islamic calendar, so everyone was busy buying sweets, new clothes and toys for the big day. Actually I didn’t see that many people making purchases, but there were a number of people carrying bags, and all those stalls wouldn’t set up shop there without some commercial return (would they?).

What mostly everyone in Ramallah was doing was walking around and window-shopping. I think people love to walk around just to see other people walking around, who themselves are doing the exact same thing. It’s also a chance to bump into friends and I think it’s a great time if you’re a small child, especially if your parents buy you a helium balloon, some sweets or a novelty whistle. (In fact I would like to ask one mother why she decided it would be a good idea to buy her son a novelty and very high-pitched whistle, but that’s another story). Walking is also something of a curse during Ramadan, since all of the many coffee shops and restaurants are closed until sunset, (except for some of the Western restaurants). There is simply no place to sit, unless you want to ruin your trousers, so walk you must.

After a few hours of walking, talking and some standing with my friends, they decided to have the iftar (break fast) in Ramallah, so we reserved a table in a restaurant before doing some more walking. By 5 o’clock, Ramallah was emptying as people went home to eat. I was really tired, and looking forward to just sitting down, so we went to the restaurant and joined the many other people who were sitting there, waiting for sunset (roughly 5:30) as indicated by the muezzin. I guess I’d never really thought through what the iftar was actually like, but in this packed restaurant, it was quite surreal. People sat at the tables they had reserved, with little plates of salad, juice and water in front of them, and in some cases their entire meal, just staring at the food, each other, or out into space. In some ways it was reminiscent of a scene from some kind of school (or Oliver Twist) where the staff had told the pupils they must not eat on pain of death, and then placed mountains of food in front of them. Even though I’m not fasting, and had eaten lunch, the anticipation was almost unbearable. The very constraint of not being able to do something, amplified by the smell of chicken, potatoes, rice and freshly squeezed orange juice, made eating and drinking suddenly the most incredibly desirable thing to do. I don’t think this is really the point of fasting during Ramadan, which seems to be more about asceticism and cleansing the body/soul, but I haven’t been fasting for a month.

I don’t know if people waited for the muezzin (I couldn’t hear it), or simply waited until their watches showed 5:30, but all of sudden like the proverbial cork being released, everyone tucked in. Although some people had their food orders served before the breaking of the fast, we had to nibble on salad and bread for a while, and when I food eventually came they forgot one of our dishes. In fact I think it was testament to the process of rising anticipation and then eventual consummation that I enjoyed the meal, rather than the quality of the food itself. Afterwards we went for some knafe (sweet desert) and by the time we hit the streets for some more walking – although this time my full stomach welcomed the opportunity – Ramallah was full of people once again. The shops that had shut for the iftar opened, the coloured lights went on, and the walking and (window) shopping routine resumed. After a while we went to a coffee shop, which was quickly filling full of guys who wanted to watched Bab el Hara (the incredibly popular Ramadan soap opera which reaches its conclusion tonight). Since I haven’t been following the series though, I went home, and in doing so was one of the few people who was actually leaving Ramallah at that time.

Sounds, Sights, Smells, Tastes, Touches

2007-10-09T15:23:00.000+02:00

This blog is a space for my research notes, so here some I made today:

The enthusiastic babble of school children, before, during and after school.
The faint trickle of water dribbling down the street as someone hoses their car.
Men’s voices. Shouting.
The rhythmic tap of a builder's hammer.
The loud and chaotic thud of articulated trucks thundering through streets barely wide enough for them.
The mechanical whine of refrigeration units on trucks delivering foods.
A rooster somewhere in the distance. A flying insect close by. The crickets late at night. A dog’s bark. The faint but constant twittering of birds.
The valley as an amphitheatre of small sounds magnified.
The occasional mummer of a toddler and a mother’s response.
The tinny sound of music coming from a radio, or perhaps a mobile phone.
The church bells marking the hour and the muezzin calling prayers.
The pungent odour of garbage, rotting in road side carts.
The dust winds that races along just behind trucks and ends up in your nostrils.
The pebbles and stones beneath your feet, that you occasionally kick as you walk along the street.
The densely packed buildings of the Old City that cling to each other and the contours of the ground.
The newer buildings, more dispersed, and sometimes five or six storeys tall.
The distant sound of an aeroplane heading elsewhere.
The occasional smell of donkey shit.
The hum of idling motors coming from cars queuing at a checkpoint, punctuated by a single car horn. The rising purr as they are suddenly all allowed through at once.
The smell of my own sweat, and the sensation of dampness where my bag rests against my t-shirt.
Cigarette smoke.

Quick Hits

2007-10-08T18:33:00.000+02:00

Strike!
The lecturers and staff at universities across Palestine went on a one day strike today over pay. When I was last here during the economic boycott, the staff worked for no pay at all for an entire summer. I'm sure their demands deserve to be heard. I suspect the administrations are in a bind though, because of students not (being able to) pay(ing) fees, or for public universities, not getting money from the PA, since they don't have any either.

Adel Imam
There's a TV where I use the internet, and some channel was advertising an Adel Imam film night. (Think Robert Redford, except still really popular non-Arab readers). The ads consist of Imam romancing various women who are at least 1/2 (maybe 1/3) his age. (Wikipedia says he's 67). Why do the directors keep coming up with such ludicrous romances for such an old guy. (Maybe it's his control over the scripts that's the real reason). The strength of the Yacoubian Building was in showing how pathetic this old man is; the weakness was of course he got the girl (again).

Tourists? Tourists!

2007-10-07T17:04:00.000+02:00

This morning a tourist bus pulled up outside the largest church in the village, and out stepped a group of elderly, white tourists, who milled around in the courtyard for a while before entering the church. My interest was pique, so I wondered down and started talking to one member of their party, who revealed that they were from the diocese of Birmingham in England, on a ten-day missionary tour of the ‘Holy Lands’. They had begun in Jerusalem before moving on to Bethlehem, where they were staying in Sheppard’s Fields. (I’ve no idea which side of the wall this is – can anyone enlighten me?) They hadn’t visited the Church of the Nativity though. This morning half of their group, which includes the Archbishop had gone elsewhere, while they came here for the morning service. The guy I talked to also wasn’t sure if they were visiting other churches in the West Bank. I had no idea that this village received visits from touring parties, but I’d be fascinated to learn if this sort of thing happens frequently.

An amusing aside (if you can appreciate my sense of humour): I asked if the service was going to be bilingual, and the guy I was talking to said he didn’t know, but he reckoned the locals who speak English had been actively encouraged to attend.

Anger Management – Ramadan Style

2007-10-07T17:02:00.000+02:00

Yesterday I met up with my friend S., who’s from Jenin, works in Nablus and was visiting Ramallah over the weekend. We met at Birzeit University, where he had graduated 18 months ago and spent a few hours strolling around and catching up. The new Arts building is almost complete. Some classes are being held there although none of the departments have yet moved into their offices because some final touches are still being applied to the upper levels. A very elegant archway frames the entrance, and the atrium has a beautiful marble floor. When I asked S. where the university gets the money to build such nice buildings, he simply said ‘donors’ without elaborating.

S. also explained that bus and taxi drivers use their car horns to compensate for cigarettes during Ramadan. Hence the frustration that is caused by a sudden shift from two packs a day to none before sunset manifests itself in anger behind the wheel and subsequent noise. While the car horn is every driver’s friend here, it would certainly explain the situation in Al Quds two days ago.

S. was also telling me about the poor olive crop in the North this year, due to the lack of rain. Apparently the last few years have been cyclical, alternating between good and bad crops. He also said that economic circumstances are so bad these days that people have begun to steal olives during the night, which they then sell for money.

Redefining ‘Man-crush’

2007-10-06T17:35:00.000+02:00

For readers with a good memory, you may recall that I have little enthusiasm for traveling to Al Quds (Jerusalem). However, yesterday I wanted to meet a friend, R., who was leaving town today, so off I went. What I fully didn’t appreciate was that going to Al Quds on a Friday morning during Ramadan is not really a good idea, because thousands of others also want to go to the Al Aqsa Compound for midday prayers. The Israeli Occupation Forces decided to deal with this swarm of people by erecting barriers and barbwire in front of the checkpoint, and then letting people through to the checkpoint one by one. (When I say checkpoint, at Kalandia you have to picture something more akin to an international border, with turnstiles, security glass and x-ray machines, but no immigration officials). However, another set of barriers were set up in front of these ones so that the Occupation Forces could control the flow of the crowd through to this point. They only let people through sporadically, and I think it was only the presence of some journalists and peace activists that ensured this was happening. Since no one really knew what was going on, everyone just piled forward, causing a moving man, woman and child crush. I say moving, because for every forward surge, there was a reactive surge in the opposite direction as those at the front avoided the barbwire. Eventually I was carried towards the front of the mass, and eventually got through to the ID document checking stage. After having my passport examined by two border policemen and one soldier, all at different barriers (I counted four before you were finally through the checkpoint), and passing soldiers eating lollipops (disrespecting a population who are fasting - who spends time coming up with such petty insults), I was able to get on the bus to Al Quds. I would say I was one of the lucky ones, but of course it wasn’t by luck that I was able to get through with my foreign passport, and seemingly anyone with a green West Bank ID card wasn’t, regardless of whether they had a permission granted by one of the Occupation Bureaucracies or not. I think the whole ordeal, including traffic jams in Al Quds, took around two hours (compared with the hour an hour to forty five minutes it usually takes).

Thankfully, R. knew about the Austrian hostel in the Old City, whose unmarked door was hidden behind a market stall, and I was grateful for the peace of their gardens and the snacks in their café. We made sure to leave the Old City before the end of midday prayers (which last about three hours), but after walking around, ran into the crowds at the bus station anyway. It’s amazing how people think that honking their horns will suddenly solve traffic gridlock. It was therefore even more of a relief than usual to leave Al Quds, and despite another delay at Kalandia and more traffic congestion after, get back to Ramallah. During Ramadan both the services and buses stop running during il iftar (the breaking of the fast), so you to plan your traveling accordingly. I also got a little sun burnt in Al Quds, but that’s par for the course here or anywhere else in the world when the sun comes out. I’ve got my factor 30 on today.

The Little Differences

2007-10-06T17:34:00.000+02:00

It’s a good measure of how familiar you are with a place when you can appreciate the little differences upon returning. A friend has sold his shop to another villager who lives in the US. This fact is made tangible by the bright new colours of paint (yellow and blue) that have brightened up a previously inconspicuous black façade. The interior floor plan has undergone a complete 180-degree reversal, and there is no longer an upstairs, or at least the stairs have been blocked off. This friend is also engaged to a woman from Nablus, who works in Ramallah.

There is a new stone plinth in the centre of town, with Saddam Hussein's image and an Iraqi flag on, although I haven’t had time to stop and read it yet. Another friend has opened a new restaurant in a building that was originally a house seventy or eighty years ago. The price of a service ride to Ramallah is now ½ shekel more expensive. I forgot how sweet and crisp the apples are here.

Returning

2007-10-06T17:31:00.000+02:00

The airport was still the same. The immigration officer asked where I was going, and after repeating my answer three times, she just said ‘Jerusalem?’, so I agreed, and was on my way. Due to both Jewish and Muslim religious holidays, Jerusalem was empty. The bus to Ramallah drove through the checkpoint – I don’t think it’s possible to drive around any more. Ramallah was also quieter than usual due to Ramadan. I don’t know if the market and food stalls opened later in the day, closer to il iftar (the breaking of the fast at sunset - roughly 5:30), but they weren’t open in the morning. Then on to my destination, where a misunderstanding left me homeless for a couple of hours until I sorted it out. Despite extreme fatigue, there was a problem with the plumbing, and so I sat like a zombie, waiting for them to finish, until finally crashing at 1pm, and sleeping fitfully for 16 hours. My accommodation is much nicer than last time. A family who are in Jerusalem used to live here I think, so it’s much more like the other houses in the village (except for the lack of television and oven) as opposed to just a roof with four walls and some basic furniture. I’m living opposite a school and a restaurant, and on one of the main roads through town, but my fatigue has been far greater than the noise so far. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep in past 7:30 though, except on Fridays. Now that I’ve slept well for two nights I feel better, and I’m happy that I’ve returned.

Goodbye

2006-08-26T16:23:00.000+03:00

Goodbye heat (and cold in winter)
Goodbye rubbish lying all over the place
Goodbye sense of community
Goodbye to falafel, shawerma and hummus
Goodbye to showers without water pressure and putting toilet paper in bins
Goodbye Taybeh beer
Goodbye new friends
Goodbye to swimming outdoors
Goodbye to checkpoints, Occupation Wall, settlement colonies and long security checks at the airport.
Goodbye to speaking Arabic
Goodbye to stone buildings with water canisters on the roof
Goodbye to services
Goodbye Ramallah
Goodbye Palestine.

Hello...

Oh the irony...

2006-08-24T18:21:00.000+03:00

of the J-love.com pop up, which appears when you load the Haaretz web page:

'Find Jewish singles in your area'.

Are they talking about the settlement-colonies?

Heaven is...

2006-08-24T18:19:00.000+03:00

The surprise of stepping in a service when the temperatures have hit triple figures (Fahrenheit of course) and finding it has air conditioning.

Quite probably one in a million.

Running out of steam

2006-08-20T17:22:00.000+03:00

Well, a week goes by without a blog update: symptomatic of my general malaise. It's been a long summer, and I just haven't had the get-up-and-go recently. Here are some notes:

The weather has been in the mid-30s for the last few days, and is forecasted to continue this week. When it's this hot, even sitting inside offers no relief, and it can be difficult getting to sleep at night.

Re: the dead dog at the bottom of the pit. The day after I wrote that post, I noticed someone/thing had set fire to the carcass. Then a few days later, it was gone. All that remained was the black ashen outline. Closer inspection revealed the now burnt dead dog had been moved (goodness knows by who or why) about 10 meters to the left, where it currently remains.

I went to a wedding this weekend, where Naser Faris, an apparently famous singer had been hired for the night at a cost of 15000 shekels (roughly 4000 US dollars or 2000 pounds). He belted out Dubke songs for 6 hours (which is a kind of personal hell for me) and then at 3 am we all went inside for 'late dinner'. Inside the one room of the father of the groom's castle of a house that we went into, there was a swimming pool, pool table, and fitness machine. Apparently the man has friends in the PA. Surprise, surprise. I wonder what percentage of the population earn 15000 shekels a year (or less) here?

It's going to be a long, hard season for the Boro!

The Ramallah Cultural Palace

2006-08-13T17:32:00.000+03:00

A few nights ago I went to a concert at the Ramallah Cultural Palace in aid of families in Gaza who continue to live in extreme suffering due to the Israeli Occupation Forces incursions.
(As an aside, notice how nothing has been said/done by the 'international community' to stop these atrocities, even though they've been ongoing for twice as long as those in Lebanon).
The seven piece group, whose name I forget now, played traditional Palestinian songs, which had the crowded clapping and singing along.
However, from a personal perspective (and probably because I don't know 'the classics'), it was the venue that stayed with me.
The UN, who along with the Palestinian Authority and Japanese government built the palace over the course of six years, describe it in the following way on their website:

Opened in 2004, The Ramallah Cultural Palace is the first and only cultural centre of its kind in the Palestinian territories. The centre contains state-of-the-art facilities including a 736-seat auditorium, conference rooms, several exhibition halls designed to handle anything from intimate poetry recitals, to film premieres and big-ticket music events.

And let me tell you, it's not called a palace for nothing.
On the one hand I can appreciate how important it is to have a venue for artistic and cultural expression, especially when it gives people a real release from the difficulties they face in their everyday lives living here.
On the other hand, this venue is so extravagant, that only the wealthy can afford to go there in the first place. (For instance, the eulogy to the suffering of Gazans prior to the performance was read in English, and then read in Arabic!) It was also quite shocking to sit in the 'state of the art' 736 seat auditorium, knowing that just a mile or two away, people are still living in incredibly densely populated refugee camps, because the UN decided to invest its money in building a palace for the elite, rather than some form of social housing that could have benefited the legions of the poor. (And when I say legions, 51% of all Palestinians are currently living below the poverty line).

Two Dead Dogs

2006-08-08T18:46:00.000+03:00

On the way to the swimming pool, at the bottom of a small quarry I pass, there is a dead dog that is slowly decomposing. The first day I saw it I thought it was sleeping, but now the rib cage is clearly visible. I have to admit it's quite fascinating to watch its transformation and decay from a distance.

Yesterday, there was another dead dog lying in the middle of the road. I'm guessing it was probably hit by a car, and it was already covered in flies and letting out a pungent smell. Thankfully this dog was removed when I made the same walk this morning. It's a different matter when the smell of decay gets in your nostrils.

Two Encounters

2006-08-08T18:42:00.000+03:00

Yesterday I had two contrasting encounters that made me very reflective of the way foreigners are treated here.

In the morning, I was walking back along the main street from swimming, and a guy selling watermelons literally stepped right into my path, sliced off a small piece from the melon he was holding, and offered it as a free taster. While doing this the following conversation took place:
Him: Are you a Christian?
Me: Pardon?
Him: Are you a Christian?
Me: Yes.
Him: Where are you from?
Me: I live in Canada.
His response to this was to kiss his teeth loudly and dismissively, and walk away. Now I've endured my fair share of occasion insults and tirades while I've been here, especially since the economic siege began to really kick in, and heightened by the recent massacres in Lebanon. However, usually it'll come from someone sat next to you in a service. This guy actually went out of his way to insult me, and he was stood there selling Israeli watermelons! [If there's one thing Palestinians don't need to import it's fruit and veg.]

Yesterday evening I was returning from Ramallah in a private taxi. The driver also asked me where I was from, and when I told him he replied 'you're very welcome' [Ahlan wa Sahlan]. We started chatting and it turns out he was from Jenin, but had moved to Ramallah four years ago for work, since there is 'no work' in Jenin. He lives in a flat with some other guys, and only visits his wife and four children once every two weeks. By the time I reach home, he had invited me to his village (a fairly common invitation when you talk to anyone longer than 5 minutes here), and we said a very warm goodbye.

The contrast couldn't be clearer, and it made me realize that those people who like to have a go at foreigners would do so regardless of the current situation. Up till now I've almost excused such behaviour because, let's face it, Western governments really are screwing Palestine, and if it helps these people to insult someone foreign and get some catharsis, who am I to stand in the way. However, I've now decided now that such people are just [censored] who are mean and nasty. I've met plenty of warm and hospitable Palestinians, even in some cases when I know they don't like foreigners or their governments, to know that I should treat people who go round insulting strangers as I would anywhere else in the world.

A Brief Statement by Free Professor Ghazi-Walid Falah

2006-08-07T17:56:00.000+03:00

A Brief Statement by Free Professor Ghazi-Walid Falah

3 August 2005

I would like to make a brief statement. This was a political arrest and
detention. Because of what I reveal in my geographic research on Israeli
land policies, and the geography of the Occupation. I am a well-known
social scientist, a specialist on the Middle East and Israel, a citizen
of Canada, and tenured professor at the University of Akron, where I
have taught geography a number of years. I am also a Palestinian Arab,
born and raised in al-Jaliil, the Galilee, where I had returned in early
July to be with my ailing mother, awaiting brain surgery in Haifa.

The month of July was a terrible month for the Palestinian people in
Gaza and under the Occupation, and most especially for the Lebanese
nation. And also on a very personal level for me. I endured a nightmare
created and orchestrated for me by the Israeli police and Shin Bet
Secret Service. I believe I was arrested and put through this prolonged
ordeal of humiliation and psychological torture to teach me a lesson:
because I am a scholar who researches on Israeli geopolitics and its
treatment of Palestinians in Israel and under the Occupation, and I tell
the truth.
What are the facts? I was arrested without charge on July 8 and held in
detention for over three weeks (July 8-30, 2006) after taking some
photos in a resort area north of Nahariya, an area full of tourists,
with some panoramic views. For much of that time I had no access to
legal counsel. I was kept for prolonged periods without healthy food,
and for several days without sleep. I was interrogated repeatedly. Often
tied to a chair, there were five interrogators. In one session I was
kept 60 hours. Some of the psychological maltreatment and verbal abuse I
was subjected to was a form of psychological torture which I will not
detail here.

I was not allowed access to a lawyer for the first 18 days of my
detention. I was freed on July 30 because no charge could be brought.
There is no evidence against me because there cannot be.

I believe my rights have been gravely violated by this ordeal. It is an
affront to international scholarship in the social sciences. The
Israelis are proud of their universities and research. But there is
another dark side to the world of science pertaining to the realities of
Israel: the Israeli government would like to intimidate and silence
researchers who speak uncomfortable truths to power. That should not be
forgotten. At one level, it is what my detention, humiliation and
harassment were all about. Read what I write. Think about its
implications.

I am grateful to all those who joined in the international campaign to
help free me. The Israeli government was well aware of their efforts. I
am grateful to my family, wife Jamila and children for their love, and
perseverance together with me in this ordeal. They have suffered greatly
and now can breathe a sigh of relief. Thank God my mother passed through
her surgery OK, even though I could not be at her side. The Israeli
state has made a serious error in trying to cow and intimidate me. I
will seek legal redress, and redouble my efforts on researching its
brutal geopolitical realities. I will not be silenced!

1 hour!

2006-08-02T18:47:00.000+03:00

That's how long it took me to get from Ramallah to Jerusalem today on the bus.

Even the most conservative estimates suggest that it only took 15 minutes, prior to the Occupation Wall and checkpoints. (The least conservative I ever heard was 6 minutes!)

I wonder if Israel will compensate me for time lost?

The route itself was farcical. Despite the Occupation Wall and the Kalandia checkpoint, it's possible to drive around them. Today, we ended up going down the road to Bethlehem - essentially from the North-East side to the South-East side of Jerusalem, before entering the city via one of the Maale settlement colonies or whatever they're called (biggest settlement colonies in West Bank). The journey back, in a straighter line, but not less convoluted, took thirty minutes.

While the bombs are dropping, the everyday subtle violence and collective punishment continues too.

Some small relief

2006-07-30T18:30:00.000+03:00

Prof. Ghazi Falah was released without charge today after 3 weeks of imprisonment.

Topical Notes

2006-07-28T17:29:00.000+03:00

Terrorist is such a useless word for so many reasons, one of which is that it homogenizes vastly different groups of people. For instance, having watched Al Manar, the Hezbollah TV channel, I can tell you that they have an army. This isn't some scratched together group of fighters (like we have here in Palestine). This is an army. They have the weapons of an army, the uniforms of an army, the training of an army, and now they're fighting like an army.

People in Palestine love Hassan Nasrallah. It's true. I think it's cathartic for them to see the big bully Israel finally 'getting some'. However, I've also read that Hezbollah's success will further promote armed struggle, and the groups advocating it, at the expense of so-called 'peace talks'. Quite frankly I think that's nonsense. People here are acutely aware of the differences between Hezbollah and the local military capabilities, hence the common refrain 'whatever Hassan Nasrallah says will happen, comes to pass'. (The subtext to this comment is implicit criticism of pretty much all the Palestinian political groups, who promise to return to Jerusalem and many other not so savory things, but have never delivered). If more people are supporting armed struggle, it's because the so-called peace talks have been so fraudulent. However, I think in the West Bank at least, people really aren't sure what to support any more, since the armed struggle has been equally ineffective.

Many people here don't seem to have much empathy for the people of Lebanon though. They would much rather cheerlead Hezbollah than face up to the devastating consequences of the war for the civilian population.

On a personal level, I seem to be increasingly numb to the devastation in Gaza and Lebanon (Yes, Gaza is still happening as well). I don't know whether it's the length of the conflict, the continued inaction of the international community or simply a mental self-defense mechanism, but it doesn't seem to be getting to me as much as it was... which is incredibly sad. Since it's still 'getting to' the civilians of Gaza and Lebanon whether they like it or not.

Finally, why is it that the swimming pool staff can't get the pool clean until 9:15 on weekdays when the summer camps arrive at 9:30, but on Friday, when only families come much later in the morning, they're done by 8:50?

The Arrest of Ghazi Falah

2006-07-26T18:18:00.000+03:00

If I hadn't been in such a general funk, and therefore blog funk, I would have posted about this much sooner.

Prof. Ghazi Falah was arrested and detained without charge or access to his lawyer and family 18 days ago, for supposedly spying for Hezbollah and Iran.

Haaretz was finally able to get the gag order lifted today.

Ghazi is a '48 Palestinian, which means he is a citizen of Israel. He is also a Canadian national. His research has always included lots of pictures, and not-coincidentally he is once of Israel's biggest opponents within the academy.
The charges sound absolutely ridiculous, but needless to say, those close to Ghazi are very pessimistic about the prospect of a fair trial in a legal system that has already allowed his inprisonment without charge or visits.

Please read more about this issue at this site.

Check this out!

2006-07-23T20:52:00.000+03:00

While I remain too stupified for words, these folks continue to resist:
July 2006 War on Lebanon.
Please take the time to visit their site and show them your support.

Creating Hope Project

2006-07-21T18:12:00.000+03:00

On a personal level, one of the worst things about the atrocities being committed in Gaza and Lebanon is that I've lost hope.
Really. It's gone.
And it feels like this is a victory for the Occupation War Machine. I know I've got to keep fighting, but I'm not sure how.
So I'm asking readers for suggestions as to how to restore or create some new form of hope in the midst of the current catastrophes. (Sticking my head in the sand or running away doesn't count).

Lebanon: A Collective Shame

2006-07-18T16:30:00.000+03:00

In the last weeks, especially after the invasion of Gaza, I've been carrying around a kind of sadness that isn't just some momentary emotion, but rather more like a disease that you contract if you stay here too long. Sometimes you can even see it in the eyes of people you talk to, although most Palestinians can artfully conceal it most of the time. I'm not so skilled.

I find myself increasingly short-tempered, depressed and have little patience for anything and everything that disagrees with me at any particular point in time. As this sadness has endured, I have begun to shield myself from what's going on around me. I just read the news headlines instead of the articles, I'm constantly thinking about other times and places than those in which I am immersed, and I have become apathetic to the violence, particularly in Lebanon.

Shame on me.

Shame on me for my weakness, my recourse to my privileges and for this burst of self-pity.

Shame on Israel for the despicable use of violence that its completely unethical war machine continues to meat out on a daily basis, and for all its hypocrisy as it keeps 10000 Palestinian and Lebanese nationals hostage ("in jail") while destroying Lebanon and Gaza over three soldiers.

Shame on Hezbollah for it's bellicose disregard for the Lebanese population, and it's manipulation of events in Gaza, when millions of Palestinians in Lebanon live in conditions just as bad, imposed by a Lebanese state that Hezbollah is part of. Shame on them for killing civilans and being no better than Israel.

Shame of the countries of the UN, EU, North America, Russia and many others for their spinelessness and cowardice in the face of an Israeli aggression they could easy stop if there was the political will. Blair and Annan's statement yesterday made me sick with disgust. Shame on them for evacuating their citizens while letting those from Lebanon perish.

Shame on all of the Arab states who profess some mythical unity while standing by and letting Israel massacre innocent Lebanese civilians, while in some cases even supporting it (Saudi).

Shame on those Palestinians who are positively enjoying the retributive force of Hezbollah's actions while showing scant regard for all those people in Lebanon that have been murdered and injured.

Shame on you for living in a world that could let something like this happen.

Shame on all of us.

Israel's Hidden War

2006-07-14T19:41:00.000+03:00

You can't miss the bombs and incursions, but you can miss the border guards and bureaucrats! That is unless you read Amira Hass, who tirelessly pursues such injustices.

For those who can't be bothered to click the link, here's her conclusion:

The lowliest clerk in the Interior Ministry and Population Registry has the authority and the opportunity to intervene in the critical affairs of every Palestinian man and woman: when and whom they will marry, whether they will live together, whether they will raise their children together. The power of the most minor Israeli clerk over the lives of the Palestinians is greater than that of any minister in the Palestinian government.

And yet the Western countries continue to demand that the Palestinian Authority behave like a sovereign with respect to a territory and a population that are under Israeli control, and they continue to be tolerant of another policy of mass expulsion that Israel is implementing against their citizens as well.

Holocaust Denial and Palestine Denial

2006-07-14T19:37:00.000+03:00

I was speaking to an aging Palestinian man today who said he didn't believe 6 million Jews were killed by the Nazis. His reasoning was that it was war, and although Jewish people certainly died during that period, they were just one group among Germans, Russians, French & British.

I haven't talked to many people about this subject, but I assume that such views are not uncommon here. It's easy to just dismiss them, which is what I did at the time of this conversation. After all, witnessing the daily violence that Palestinians endure, it's not hard to imagine why they would be inclined to disbelieve or dismiss any accounts of Jewish suffering.

However, it later occurred to me that there may actually be a much more subtle reason for dismissing this historical event. In this particular geographical context, the history of the Holocaust is inextricably intertwined with the history of the Zionist colonization of Palestine. This second historical narrative, almost a shadow to the first, simply expunged (discursively) the Palestinians from Palestine, (e.g. a land without a people for a people without a land; making the desert bloom). Palestinians have now lived for many years trying to communicate with a world that, largely on account of this Zionist discourse, does not believe or recognize their existence.

Is Palestine denial any less despicable than Holocaust denial?

Fireworks at 10AM!!!

2006-07-13T17:03:00.000+03:00

Someone must have got really good Tawjihi results (High School leaving certificate), and couldn't wait to celebrate!

[And of far less significance, Old Man In... makes it to 100 posts.]

Coming and Going (or not, as the case may be).

2006-07-12T15:47:00.000+03:00

I had an interesting conversation the other day, which relates directly to this post about the new movement restrictions that are being placed on Palestinians who live abroad. Here is a snippet:

I know his uncle, he’s much older than me, in his late seventies, early eighties. He was an established engineer when there were no engineers in the Middle East, educated in one of the best universities in the Middle East, which is the American University of Beirut. He did a fantastic job, he’s a very famous engineer in the area, and he wants to come here and visit, to see his land, to see his house that he built, and the Israelis are telling him no you can’t come. So instead what he does is he comes to Jordan, because from Lebanon you cannot call here, and the first thing he does is he takes the phone and starts calling. So he called him, he called his sisters, he calls his nieces, he’s just trying to get some balance in his life probably. And when I see him in Lebanon, you feel he’s a broken man. It’s just impossible, I don’t understand it. Why don’t they allow such an old man to come in? What damage to Israel would it do? I’ve no idea.

Mohsen Subhi Plays at The Kasaba

2006-07-12T15:28:00.000+03:00

Mohsen Subhi is a Palestinian musician who plays the Oud as part of a quintet. I was fortunate enough to attend his concert at Al Kasaba Theatre and Cinematheque in Ramallah last night. [If you click the second link, I think it's his music which is currently playing]. It was a wonderful concert, and the full house was very appreciative. It was also interesting to see who attends these types of cultural events - lots of internationals who are in town for one reason or another (and this includes Palestinians living abroad) and a kind of local cultural elite (even though tickets were very reasonably priced at 20 shekels).

At the swimming pool this morning there was a lizard in the pool! It would try to swim every so often, but it didn't get very far. It eventually got scooped up in the net and thrown out. That's what happens when you don't buy a ticket!

Finally, among all the other innocent Palestinians who have died in the past few weeks, four more residents of Gaza died at the Rafah Border yesterday, where they have been prevented from entering their homeland. It's sickening to see all the "EU condemnation" of the Hezbollah raid today, while things such as this are completely ignored, depsite urgent Red Cross warnings.

How to save yourself some money (and annoy your neighbours at the same time!)

2006-07-11T15:49:00.000+03:00

I heard a story today about someone in town, who instead of paying the 50 shekels for a truck to come and pump out his sewage tanks, was pumping the sewage into the street outside his house, where it would drain away down the hill.

Other residents began to complain to the shop owner who lives opposite this guy, and after a number of such complaints, the shop owner confronted the man in question, who denied he was doing such a thing (and even blamed it on his neighbour, who is also his cousin and lives in America for most of the year). The shop owner accepted his denial, but said he would pass on complaints to the municipality if he started receiving them again.

Such is the fabric of daily life here.

More Disturbing News...

2006-07-10T14:26:00.000+03:00

As if we needed anymore!

Israel has begun to enforce a policy of not allowing Palestinians who live abroad to enter the West Bank (entry to Gaza having being prevented since the beginning of the intifada). The story also mentions that other non-Palestinian nationals are being barred entry. In other words, the metaphorical prison just got that much more literal.

Imagine for a moment that you grew up in the West Bank, moved to Europe or North America after graduating from university to find work, leaving your family behind in the process, and then you arrive this summer to find that you can no longer visit your childhood home, your parents, your siblings and their families or your oldest friends.

If this scenario wasn't bad enough, remember also that people living inside the territories are very infrequently given permits to travel (i.e. leave the West Bank). In other words, the State of Israel is now preventing the people who live under their Occupation from even seeing their relatives. And their efforts to hide the many violences they commit on a daily basis, by also preventing foreign nationals from entering this space of Occupation, have also increased.

[But if you're Jewish and live in North America, Europe, etc, you're still entitled to come and live here (i.e. on somebody elses land) at any time].

The End of the Affair

2006-07-10T14:21:00.000+03:00

Well, another World Cup comes to its inevitable conclusion. I enjoyed the final. Did anyone else think Zidane's headbutt was absolutely hilarious? It reminded me of Juggernaut from X-men 3. I thought France played better, but they didn't take their chances, and Italy, who looked like they were playing for penalties from half-time onwards, won. Such is football, and such is life.

And now I have to entertain myself for the rest of the summer. What am I going to do?

Life's Small Joys

2006-07-09T16:24:00.000+03:00

Last night, after watching the 3rd place playoff in the World Cup at the big screen in town, I won one of the raffle prizes - a (genuine) replica World Cup Adidas Football.

Score!

Stop and Think

2006-07-07T15:31:00.000+03:00

All over the UK today, people are commemorating the attack on the tubes (and bus) that happened one year ago, in which 52 people died.

At the time of the bombings, I was here in Palestine. I remember telling a Palestinian friend here about what happened, and her response was to shrug her shoulders. It wasn't that she was being insensitive. It was more that such violence against civilians has become so commonplace here that people's emotional responses have also had to alter to accommodate such frequent and widespread death.

In Gaza yesterday, 23 Palestinians were killed by the Israeli military, almost half the number of those killed in London.

If you are commemorating what happened in London one year ago, stop and think what it must be like to not only suffer such horror on a nearly daily basis, but to reach the point where your reaction to such violence is to shrug your shoulders and just get on with life.

Rumour Mill

2006-07-07T15:24:00.000+03:00

It's hard to know what's being said behind your back. Personally I don't care most, if not, all of the time. However, from time to time other people's opinions of you and what you're doing manifest themselves to your front side, so to speak.

Palestinians are, with better reason than most, suspicious of outsiders. I'm sure there are many different stories circulating around me about who I am and what people perceive me to be doing here. The fact that I tend to be vague and unsure myself when faced with these questions probably just encourages creative thinking in this area.

My friend T., having already helped me extensively in the past with my work, posed the question (of what 'exactly' I'm doing here) to me a couple of days ago. Apparently a third party who claimed to know me (although I didn't recognise the name) had said that I was working here and in an Israeli settlement?! It seems the specter of the spy always haunts foreigners here, no matter how long there here for. In fact, I suspect the longer you're here, the longer the shadow grows.

However, just to reaffirm how different behind the back opinion is about me, a young Palestinian-American man, named C. approached my table while I was sat with a friend in a coffee shop, to tell me that his cousin, who was sitting with him on the other side of the cafe, thought I was 'cute'.

Just goes to show: you win some, you lose some!

"The Palestinians have no partner for peace. They will only have one if Israel agrees to recognise Palestine's right to function."

2006-07-06T14:42:00.000+03:00

If you've been thinking I've been conspicuously silent on the current Israeli atrocities in Gaza, it's because so much of the news coverage makes me so angry and depressed I simply don't have the heart to blog.

I did enjoy reading this piece though.

The Ills of Computer Games

2006-07-03T14:30:00.000+03:00

Computer games have been blamed for everything from teen violence to declining standards of education for some time now in Western society. I was talking to a guy the other day who basically said that the village's social cohesion had suffered because kids no longer played amongst the olive trees together (as they did when he was a boy), but instead played computer games (indoors) all the time. I've no way of knowing whether this is true or not, but what I found interesting is that the same sorts of 'anti-social' discourses that surround computer games in the West have managed to travel here along with the actual computers themselves. I know that studies done in Britain and America have found that many kids spend lots of time on the computer chatting with friends, and sending emails, and that in fact computers have allowed for a new form of sociality, or a new medium for social encounter. I also see kids playing at the club, at the pool and most frequently in the street together. It would be interesting to really look at this issue in depth, but I don't think I'll have the time. (Plus it would be something of a tangent from what I'm doing).
If anyone ever gets round to doing a study or finds one, do let me know.

Some Notes on Roofs

2006-07-03T14:27:00.000+03:00

If you've been to Palestine, or indeed any Arabic country, you'll notice that most houses have flat roofs. Here, having a flat roof is necessary because you need to store large water containers there in case of summer droughts. Many families have also started putting solar panels on the roof to generate a little electricity too. Flat roofs also allow for the construction of further floors on top, the cheapest way to create more living space.

I had assumed that these roofs, that are so prevalent now, had been the norm for some time. However, the other day I found out that they are in fact a more recent invention. In fact, it is only since the introduction of a certain type of concrete during the 1940s that people have been able to build such roofs. Prior to that, homes would be built in a dome shape, which would keep the rain out. In those days of course, a two-storey building would be considered a palace.

Another interesting feature, which you see on some buildings in the Ramallah area, is red/orange tiles. These have the (presumably unintentional) effect of making the buildings look similar to the houses in the Israeli settlement colonies. However, it turns out that these red tiles were originally used by the British during their occupation of Palestine (1917-1948), again to keep the rain out of the buildings. When concrete made it's way to Palestine, the tiles (being more expensive) were no longer used. However, they are making somewhat of a come back these days, as a decorative feature (i.e. if you're rich, and can't think of a way to spend all your money, then add some tiles to your house).

Swimming Update

2006-07-03T14:24:00.000+03:00

Well I've managed to get up and go to the pool every morning, and the stamina is gradually returning. I was going to write a short post yesterday complaining about the fact that everyday I've been, I've had to wait for the staff to clean the pool. In typical Palestinian (Arab?) fashion, the staff don't tend to get going quickly in the morning, although they are also used to Palestinians clientele who would never dream of actually showing up at 9 on the dot when the pool is scheduled to open. However, much to my surprise, everything was ready upon my arrival today. Either they're getting used to having me around, or perhaps I'm getting used to arriving a little later. I also bought some goggles today to stop my eyes watering for the rest of the day. Hurray.

Gone Swimming

2006-06-30T14:51:00.000+03:00

Today I went swimming at the new (outdoor) pool in town. It's a nice, new, clean pool and the water is warm. I also went early in the morning to avoid the worst intensities of the sun, and in fact had to wait for the staff to finish cleaning the pool. The advantage of this was that I had the pool to myself once they were done.

Having not done much (/any) exercise over the last 6 months, it was both good to get going again, and also short lived (due to a lack of stamina). However, I look forward to many return visits and increasing my widths and lengths.

Baton down the hatches!

2006-06-28T21:00:00.000+03:00

If you've been reading the Western media sources, you might think all hell was breaking loose here. (See Gaza).
Having traveled back through Al Beira while 30 jeeps were apparently making an incursion, I can assure everyone that at the moment, things are still quite here. If the situation changes, you'll be the last to know, because they will probably knock the power out ;)
But seriously, don't believe everything you read in the papers/on the internet.
On the other hand, when so many Palestinian civilians have been killed in recent weeks, is the current situation really a surprise? The comparatively little attention devoted to such murders is the only reason why it might be.

Hidden in the headlines

2006-06-26T21:46:00.000+03:00

Since my post about the commentator was popular, I'll just add that since the Arab teams got knocked out, he's calmed down a bit, although he obviously likes Brazil too.

In other Palestinian news, hidden amongst all the nonsense about the Israeli soldier hostage,

The High Court of Justice ruled Monday that the government and Israel Defense Forces must act to ensure the safety of Palestinian farmers working their fields and to prevent settlers from harming their land, property or persons.

The High Court ruled on a petition submitted by the residents of five Palestinians villages protesting an IDF decision to keep them from reaching their fields in an effort to protect them from settler attacks.

These are the same villages in the South Hebron district that I've mentioned before. As the judge said:

A policy that prevents Palestinian residents from reaching lands belonging to them, in the name of their own defense, is like a policy forbidding someone from entering his home in order to protect him from a thief.

No sh*t Sherlock!

Only here. Really. Only here.

B. reveals his true colours, or, while the World Cup is happening...

2006-06-23T13:44:00.000+03:00

I was watching the Italy-Czech Rep. game at my translator, B.'s house yesterday, and at some point his brother arrived home from work in Ramallah and mentioned there had been demonstrations by public sector workers all over Palestine yesterday.

What followed were some shocking stories about a man threatening a pharmacist at knife point just so he could get medicine for his sick son, and a woman in Jenin who offered to sell her son, so she could feed his brothers and sisters.

"F#$% Hamas, man. Really F#$% Hamas," says B. suddenly.

"It's been four months now, and what have they done. Nothing! All they say is 'we will live as one and die as one', but they've done nothing. Four months is too much you know."

B.'s mum is a government worker, and hence hasn't been paid since January. B. later says that is why he and his brother have been working, (and have consequently given up studying).

While there might be plenty to be said about who's responsible for the current crisis, (and there are certainly many different opinions about that here), what struck me at that moment was that I, someone who has had to do a fair bit of scraping by myself at certain points in my recent history, had now become one of the primary sources of income for a family of four.

B. sudden enthusiasm for arranging interviews has and will certainly benefit my project, but it also strengthens the feeling inside that doing research in Palestine is a form of rape. While I stand to gain a great deal because of the time I've spent here, I can't see how the people I live amongst will receive any benefit at from my work, except in the most obtuse and obscure sense. Would I be better off working for a NGO, or would that be another way of ensuring that Band Aid solutions endure while emergency surgery is desperately needed?

I don't really know how to feel sometimes. On the one hand, being here, spending money and employing some people is a way of 'helping' Palestinians. On the other hand, they wouldn't need help if the governments of the various countries I've lived in (and plenty others beside) hadn't suddenly cut of what was essentially the only source of income on a national scale.

Sometimes when you stay here you feel really lost and hopeless like this. I think this is why the football is so popular. You can just turn it on and forget about everything else, which unfortunately is the easiest 'solution'. Sometimes it even seems like the only solution.

Watching the World Cup in Palestine

2006-06-23T13:00:00.000+03:00

Palestinians, like many other people all over the world, love the football world cup. Most people, including many women I've spoken to, have a team they're supporting. Frequently, as last night bore witness, this team is Brazil. This is partly because they're picking the favourites, and partly because La Liga is the most high profile domestic league here.

Coca Cola (big bottling plant in Ramallah) and Jawwal (the Palestinian mobile phone company) have taken advantage of this popularity, and set up a number of big screens in Ramallah and the villages around. It costs 5 shekels to watch all the games screened that day here, and you also get a free drink. Crowds have varied in size, but Brazil definitely drew the largest last night. Tunisia is also quite popular, representing the only Arab team with a chance of qualifying.

Interestingly, the television rights for the region were bought by a company called ART (Arab Radio and Television network), who are charging $400 a year for subscription to their package of channels. This is a lot more than many people here (and no doubt elsewhere) can afford. However, thankfully all the Palestinian channels (there are four in Ramallah for instance) pirate the footage from ART and broadcast it for free. The big screen events actually have an ART subscription, because Coca Cola and Jawwal have paid for it.

Watching the games on ART is quite amusing actually, because the commentator basically just shouts like a fan for the whole game. Particularly when Tunisia are playing, he essentially just cheers for them.

"Run [insert player's name], run!"
"THANK GOD! THANK GOD!" [After another Spanish near miss].

He also has a habit of coming up with the most random (and frequently racist) sentences, especially in the second half when he's running out of things to say.

"Argentina. Eva Peron. Flamingo" (?!?!)
"Japan, like a computer virus that seeks to destroy the Brazilian system."

He even started to talk about Sven Goren Erikkson's affair and the tabloid expose that followed during the England-Sweden game. Tunisia-Ukraine (later today) may be the last game where he's able to express his outright partisan support, but I suspect that like most people here, his allegiances will easily shift come the next round. There should be a good crowd though, with Tunisia needing the win to progress.

Yella Tunis!

The battle of Huda Ghalia - who really killed girl's family on Gaza beach?

2006-06-17T14:59:00.000+03:00

IDF investigation say IDF didn't do it. Chris McGreal's investigation suggests otherwise.

Surprise, surprise.

I'm back!

2006-06-16T18:27:00.000+03:00

Did you miss me? (Did you even notice I was gone?)

Well folks, it's been a busy couple of weeks. Taking a holiday can actually be more tiring than usual day to day life, once you factor in the traveling and then the frantic rush to see as many people as possible.

Getting to Jerusalem has become even harder - we actually drove through a car park to get from one crappy stone dirt track to another.
The journey in the opposite direction has become a little easier, if only because the bus now goes directly to Ramallah, driving around the Kalandia checkpoint (don't ask because I can't figure it out either).

Although I was much calmer for both legs of this trip than on previous occasions, I actually encountered more hassle than at any other time before. I got an hours worth of working over at the airport security, and even got to go into the shop changing-room style booth to be frisked with the metal detector. In the corner there was a bin full of used latex/surgical gloves, and I don't think they were put there just to exert physiological pressure. They also forgot to give me back my digital camera, which I only realized when it was too late, but thankfully I was able to pick it up from the airport on my return leg.

My return to Palestine was preceded by watching the film 'United 93' the night before. DO NOT WATCH THIS FILM THE DAY BEFORE YOU FLY ANYWAY! The pilot on my (real) flight even said 'there's a lot of traffic at the moment. From here I count 15 planes in front of us before we get underway'. I sat there wondering whether he had actually seen the film or whether this was in fact the mother of all coincidences and what that portended. We did however arrive safely. My I-pod also decided to break just before the return journey. I'm happy to say that it has now made a miraculous recovery.
Hamdu Lillah!

While away, I was surprised/shocked to learn how many people didn't know about the current siege of Palestine. It's simply unbelievable to read things like "There can be no business as usual with a government that has not yet accepted the fundamental principle of peace," - Ms Ferrero-Waldner, EU somebody talking about Palestine, when a) I've just had to relive pictures of the girl in Gaza that lost her entire family to an Israeli shell (what was that about accepting peace?), and b) I live among teachers, nurses and civil servants who are the people being effected by this boycott. Hamas still has money. These people don't.

I can only assume that all these EU people, and every other politician and diplomat simply has no idea what's going on here. In fairness, I guess that doesn't really distinguish them from the rest of their populations. Despite all my anger and disgust though, it's good to be back in Palestine.

Old Man's New Profile Picture

2006-05-31T14:39:00.000+03:00

Sunset and shadow on my wall.

Hopefully I'll also be able to get it up on the right hand side too.

Busy, busy, busy. Just about to take a break.

Tonight's treat from my landlady...

2006-05-29T21:26:00.000+03:00

was a chocolate mousse on biscuit base. Very nice!

Kharbatha Misbah

2006-05-29T21:19:00.000+03:00

Yesterday I visited my friend A. who lives in KM. This is a village East of Ramallah, which lies very close to the Green Line. A. teaches at the local school, and wanted me to meet some of his colleagues, so I had to get up early and was in Ramallah by 8:30. However, there was only one service going to KM, and it was empty. The driver said we would be waiting two hours for the car to fill up, but offered to take me there for 50 shekels. After a bit of uming and ahing I relented, and off we went. In order to get to KM, you have to follow the road that winds its way through most of the villages east of Ramallah. This elaborate journey takes about 40 minutes altogether. Prior to the intifada, Palestinians used to be able to use the Jerusalem-Tel Aviv highway (that runs right through their land), but they have now been banned from using this road. In fact, KM is divided from the nearby villages by this highway. In order to ensure (racial) separation, the Israeli Authorities built a tunnel underneath the highway, linking KM to the next village. This tunnel, which lets you know you've finally reached the village, also has gates at either end, should Israel wish to imprison the KM residents at any points. A. finds the prospect of being like 'birds in a cage' amusing to think about - probably because it hasn't actually happened yet.

Once in the village I went directly to the school, which was conspicuously devoid of pupils. Although 700 hundred boys attend this school (age 5-18), yesterday was the last day of the teaching term. Schools here have all but broken up for the summer holidays (and it's not even June!) The staff room however was packed, with staff trying to grade the final exams so that all the pupils would be able to graduate on Tuesday. I was able to sit and talk to some of the staff while A. was finishing some of his own administrative work. Beyond the usual formalities, the people I talked to - who haven't been paid in 3 months now - all seemed fairly acquiescent to this fact. The recent marriage of one guy and the engagement of another may perhaps have lightened the mood.

After a couple of cups of tea, A and I walked to his house, on the edge of village. A. lives with his mother, two brothers and four sisters (his father recently passed away) in a small dwelling which contains four rooms. The living room/guest room where we sat contained a three piece suite, with an extra chair, a table against one of the wall and some plastic chairs. A variety of tapestries woven by Um A. (A.'s mother), school certificates, verses from the Kor'an and a picture of two children from A. extended family who had been martyred (murdered by the Israeli Occupation Forces) covered the unpainted concrete plastered walls. After sitting a while with A. next oldest brother, we were joined by his sister's fiance and another friend of A.'s from the neighbouring village.

Just after twelve we ate lunch. In order to do this the table was moved from the wall, and the sitting room became the dining room. I think this double usage of space is fairly common, especially in smaller houses. [For instance, the bathroom was in fact part of the kitchen that had been walled off, although not all the way up to the ceiling. One of the two bedrooms was also the TV room]. Despite the fact that all of A. family was at home, the only other member to join us was A. older brother, who is close in age to A. [His younger brother is only 5]. This gender exclusion is common in Palestinian homes, and warrants an entire post of its own, which I will endeavour to do when I can do justice to the topic. For the time being, I'll simply state that all the females, except for A. youngest sister, remained something of a ghostly physical presence (seen for glimpses before disappearing again) while I was visiting. However their labour - our delicious dinner - was clearly tangible. [When I asked, A. said they were eating in the kitchen].

Dinner consisted of the fabulous musachken: bread covered in olive oil, pine nuts and onions, and eaten with baked chicken. A.'s mum had also grilled some chicken, which was served on a massive tray of rice, potatoes and carrots. A real feast!

After dinner, there was the obligatory Arabic coffee, some talk of the latest developments with regards to the building of the Israeli Occupation Wall (referred to simply as 'the apartheid' (in English) by people living there), a discussion about religion (mainly asking me what the differences between Catholicism and Protestantism are), and talk about a recent football match between two of the villages that ended in a fight. Due to the intense heat, we weren't able to walk around the village or A.'s family lands, so we remained in the guest room until the early evening. Catching a service back to Ramallah necessitated a 15 minute wait - since there are only 10 cars (carrying 7-9 people each) for the whole village (5-6000 people). I did however, finally get back to Ramallah, and from there, home.

Quick update

2006-05-28T21:37:00.000+03:00

Does your landlady appear with warad diwali and stuffed aubergines when you come home late? No. Nevermind.

I've put a variety of photos on to my flickr page, including this one:

Click here for the rest.

I visit a friend today, which was fun, and there's plenty to blog about, but it'll have to wait until tomorrow. I'm worn out after another day of sizzling temperatures.

Sometimes

2006-05-25T20:16:00.000+03:00

Sometimes, after a hard week and a long day, when the weather's been hot and you're tired, you'll read an article about some people who seem a millions miles away, and you'll cry.

Hafle (Party!)

2006-05-24T22:23:00.000+03:00

So there was me thinking that this party I had been invited to was going to be a bit of a knees up with 'a few of the guys'.

Believe me, I'm learning not to make even the most basic assumptions when living in a foreign country.

Hafle, which is Arabic for party, would have been better translated in this case as 'large reception in which most people who will be graduating invite their entire family and the department staff to a suit and tie style bash'.

Oldman rocks up in his jeans and t-shirt. -1 point for the foreigner.

I've been to weddings that are less grandiose than this event was. All the soon-to-be graduates, holding candles, paraded into the hall (down a flight of stairs) to some very dramatic music, walked down the two side aisle to the back of the room, then up the centre aisle, through three hooped arches and took their seats on a platform. After a prayer (or something to this effect) for the day's shaheedas (martyrs = blokes killed by Israel), there was then speeches, presentations of certificates, dancing, singing, more dancing, more speeches, and a cake cutting. All of the above was interspersed with lots of music, played at an extemely loud volume. It seemed like I was the only one to notice/dislike this though.

I have to say that the whole event was some what overwhelming. I guess it was essentially a communal wide graduation party. There was no food and only soft drinks (standard for a predominantly Islamic country), and apparently things were toned down because of the earlier incursion/murders. (Goodness knows what it would have been like had it gone off as planned!) Despite all this, I have to say I found the whole event rather boring. Every graduate to be got to give a speech (see update on the seminars post) and combined with the hot weather, and slightly stuffy atmosphere, I think I'd just had enough. Plus hungry oldman isn't a happy oldman.

Nevertheless, it was quite the experience.

But first, a 'small' aside...

2006-05-24T22:03:00.000+03:00

Ok, hands up who saw the news that Ramallah was invaded today?

Anyone?

Read the story and see a few pictures here.

I can't begin to express how serious this incursion was. Timed not at all coincidentally to coincide with Olmert's speech to the US congress (i.e. when that would be making the headlines), the Israel Defense Force (sic) incursion was the most serious attack on Ramallah since the invasion in 2003. This is Ramallah people. The army simply doesn't go there. Nablus, yes. Hebron, yes. Ramallah, no. Until today.

And they didn't just attack anywhere. It was the Manara. This is the Palestinian equivalent of Trafalgar Square. The attack, which really took people here by surprise (which itself is unusual), left the central area in a mess.

On a personal note, I had to delay my trip to the party, since it was being held in a reception hall on the edge of Ramallah. When I did arrive in the city (after getting the all clear from a friend who was there) the last ambulance carrying a martyr was driving to the hospital. Funnily enough (although I'm not laughing) this was the first time I've experienced Palestine as it is usually represented on the television news (gunfire and all). Needless to say, being a foreigner and walking past a crowd of angry and aggrieved Palestinians wasn't the most comfortable experience in my life, but most people were more concerned with clearing up the mess (broken glass, stones, various other items cluttering the street).

Let's hope this event was exceptional and not some sort of foreboding of events to come!

The Strange Case of the End of Degree Seminar Presentation

2006-05-23T17:39:00.000+03:00

[Strange as in unfamiliar. The seminar presentation format was what you might consider standard.]

I was invited by some friends to their seminar presentations at the University of Birzeit. To graduate from Birzeit, you have to complete a seminar (all other courses are lecture or lab-based) and to fulfill the seminar requirements, you have to present a 15-20 minute presentation based on original research at the end of the term. When I was an undergrad we had to do presentations frequently. Here, they only do one, and boy do they take it seriously.

Firstly, everyone dresses up in a suit or smart dress to present their work. Secondly, some people invite their entire family to watch. Thirdly, nearly everyone else at the university who is known to the presenter is invited, even though the classroom may only (read: probably) seat 30 people. Fourthly, the entire event is filmed/photographed as though someone were getting married. Fifthly, at the conclusion of the presentation, everyone celebrates as though someone just got married. Flowers (and occasionally cuddly toys) are given to the presenter, chocolates and sweets are handed to everyone who attended, and in the most extreme cases, presenters walk ceremoniously around campus with all their friends singing and clapping. It's basically a pre-graduation, graduation party.

And every person who graduates Birzeit has to do this!
(Although not everyone goes to such extremes!)

UPDATE:
I went to another friend's seminar today, who is studying English. Hence the presentations were all in English. Something I didn't realise yesterday, was that at the end of each presentation, the presenters make an Oscar like thank you speech. Another guy who I also know, had to bite back the tears as he thanked Allah, the 'two candles in his life' (mum and dad), his professor, his friends and everyone at the university of Birzeit.

Anatomy of Collective Punishment

2006-05-21T13:39:00.000+03:00

You begin with a free and democratic election, in which the population votes for a party considered a 'terrorist' entity by the US and its allies.

The US then not only cuts off all funds to the government, but also uses its economic and political muscle to prevent other countries from supporting that government too.

Since 1/3 of the population relies, directly or indirectly, on a state salary of some sort, 1/3 of the population is immediately effected by the sudden loss of income. Naturally, the poorer you are, the less money you have in savings or in capital investments, and thus the harder you are hit.

This 1/3 of the population thus has to start cutting back on expenses. Bills are no longer paid and people have to start relying on credit from shopkeepers to buy even the basics like food and medicine.

Shopkeepers, faced with declining income due to the spiraling credit, begin to cut back on expenses themselves. If they are able to, they establish a line of credit with the suppliers of their goods. If they aren't, their stock declines.

Suppliers, such as food producers and clothes makers, are forced to essentially provide their product for free, or stop providing it. They in turn cut back on expenditure.

Forced with a widespread recession, private institutions are heavily effected. All the staff at the University of Birzeit are told they will be paid half wages this month, and will have to work for free over the summer semester, since students can no longer afford the tuition fees.

Despite this situation life continues because:

1, People are by now use to frequent and unexpected (financial) crises, and know it will end sooner or later;

2, Due to the frequency, they have developed coping mechanisms to endure them;

3, There's no much else to do anyway. They're certainly not going to sit at home just because foreign governments are systematically punishing them.

In other words, that's life in Palestine!

A little piece of chaos

2006-05-19T17:07:00.000+03:00

I decided yesterday afternoon, that since it was the weekend, I would go to Ramallah with a friend for the evening. However, the Israeli Defense Force (sic) had decided to stop all traffic going in and out of Ramallah yesterday, at least along the major roads. So about a kilometer from where the flying checkpoint usually gets set up, due to massive congestion, we had to get out of the bus and start walking. My friend referred to this as Palestinian sports. However, when we got the point in the road where the army was suppose to be, there was nothing but cars. While the checkpoint had been removed, the congestion it caused remained long after, since people simply couldn't wait patiently, and had blocked the opposite side of the road. Collective punishment was never easier to administer, or more readily aided.

After walking a few kilometers more to get to Ramallah, I then had the misfortune later in the evening of eating some dodgy fried chicken, which cut my night rather short. Thankfully the congestion had long since cleared by the time I made my way home.

A.’s Crazy Hamlet Production

2006-05-16T19:20:00.000+03:00

This afternoon finally saw the completion of my friend A.'s masterpiece, an abridged and adapted version of Hamlet. A. studied the play as part of an English Literature course on Shakespeare and for his final assignment, decided to make a short film. Although his film consisted (eventually) of just three short seasons, the production was quite epic.

We originally shot two scenes last week, without any preparation or rehearsal. However, A., ever the perfectionist, wasn't happy with their quality, and therefore decided we needed to do it again. This is the point when things started to get complicated. Firstly, he decide to write another scene, featuring two new characters and a mix of Shakespeare's dialogue and his own. This of course required two new actors, and they had to learn their lines, and it also meant we had four people to co-ordinate with regards to arranging a time to film. He also had to convince his friend to play a woman. A.'s argument that boys used to play women in Shakespeare's time wasn't well received, but he did eventually manage to persuade his friend.

However, now ready to film, A. discovered that the media department (from which he had borrowed the camera for the first shot) wouldn't let him use their camera again. Hence another day's delay while A. tracked down another camera - one that was of a slightly lesser quality this time. Finally, this afternoon, it all came together. With a fifth friend tagging along as an extra, A. delivered part of Hamlet's 'to be or not to be' soliloquy from the new venue of a prison. The second scene was a dialogue between Ophelia and the Queen just before Ophelia kills herself, (with Ophelia singing Shakespeare's lines to Celine Dion's 'My Heart Will Go On'). The final scene was an entirely improvised conversation between Hamlet (still in prison) and Horatio (your truly).

At the end of the day, I don't think we'll be winning any Oscars, but it was good fun nevertheless and A. seemed pleased with the results, (at least at the time of writing).

Boycott/Nakba

2006-05-15T19:03:00.000+03:00

So the reason for no memorializations a couple of weeks ago - the Palestinians in the West Bank don't mourn the Nakba until today. (It was the Palestinians inside Israel who commemorate the event when the Hebrew calendar marks Israel's independence). On the BZU campus, which I was visiting today (see next paragraph), there were a couple of tents representing the many camps where Palestinians still live (although no longer in tents).

There was also a big trade fair at BZU, promoting Palestinian products and supporting a boycott of Israeli ones. I don't know if a full boycott is possible here, simply because Israel controls everything going in and out of Palestine, but I'm sure the conscious raising efforts are worthwhile. Having said that, there was one stand promoting Coca Cola products. I can only assume this is because there is a bottling factory in Ramallah?!?

Haircut

2006-05-12T16:47:00.000+03:00

Forgot to add also that I got a much needed haircut yesterday. It took me a long time to pluck up the courage since I've seen a number of internationals come back from the hairdresser with significantly less hair than they had intended to, but the results, in my case, seem alright. And for only NIS 15, probably the cheapest haircut I've ever had, (except for when I use to buzz cut myself for free).

Smart Cars, Home Visits, Petrol Crises and Swimming Pools

2006-05-12T14:56:00.000+03:00

Due to some blogger.com problems and being busy, I have accumulated some posting over the last couple of days that I will now present in amalgamated form:

Spotted!

One Smart Car (you know, the dinky little ones), with German number plates. I think there is a Goethe Institute in Ramallah as well as a consulate, but I'm not 100% sure.

Palestinian Hospitality

For the UEFA cup final on Wednesday (more on that later), I manage to wrangle an invitation (it was a genuine invitation though) to my friend M's house since I don't have a TV. Since Palestinian hospitality, (in fact, probably Arab hospitality, but I don't have much of a comparison) is different from what we might enjoy in the West, I thought I would record my experiences here.

Firstly, you are not allowed to do or pay for anything. Even the taxi ride there and back was part of deal, no matter how much I protested/tried thrusting notes into my host's hand. Secondly, even though M. invited me, it was as if his whole family had, in the sense that there was a collective effort by his brothers and parents to make me feel welcome and attend to my needs.

After arriving, and greeting the aforementioned parents and brothers, M. showed me his family's land, which has a good view of the neighbouring village and an Israeli settler-colonist road that divides the two villages from each other. (The only way to go from one to the other is via a tunnel built specially for the purpose of keeping Palestinians out of sight and out of mind). M. family grow a number of fruit and vegetables, including zucchinis/courgettes that, when stuffed, formed part of a delicious dinner. M. house consisted of a kitchen, living room, and three bedrooms. One for the boys, one for the girls and one for the parents. The second floor is a work in progress, although in this case, I'm not sure how much progress is being made. (Palestinians often build their houses in a piecemeal fashion, because of the cost relative to income). We ate dinner in the living room, which was quickly converted into a dining space by moving the table that was against the wall and bringing in some auxiliary chairs (c.f. Peter Kay).

As well as the stuffed zucchinis, M. mum had roasted a chicken and made Warad Diwali (stuffed vine leaves). Yum. M. and I with his younger brother. I've noticed that families here don't necessarily eat all at once, except perhaps on weekends, since different schedules often mean different eating times. Then we moved into what I can best describe as their garage area, where we smoked an aiguilles with a couple of M. friends from the village.

When it was time for the game to start, we actually went to a local cafe (due to TV reception difficulties at home), which here looked more like an enlarged concrete container. Needless to say, Boro got humiliated, and it was a little before midnight when the final whistle was mercifully blown. Depending on where you live, 'public' transport finishes any time between 7pm and 10pm here, so if you visit someone's house, you're staying the night.

M., his younger brother and I were all shacked up in the boys room. Here in Palestine, large numbers of siblings (seven to eight in some cases) share the same sleeping space, and I've been curious about how this has actually been accomplished. In M. case, there is a pile of mattresses and a shelf with blankets and pillows on. You grab one of each, and then find a space on the floor. Since two of M.'s five brothers are married and have their own house, there's not too much of space issue in this case. His other brother slept in front of the TV in the living room. Apparently this is also a long established habit.

The next morning we got up at 6:30, had a quick cup of tea, and were on the bus to the university by 7.

Fuel Crisis

I never know exactly how much media coverage certain events over here are receiving in different parts of the world, but believe me, the current fuel crisis which you may or may not have heard about it a huge deal here. Palestine receives all its petrol and diesel from one Israeli company, which decided to stop supplying fuel after the Israeli government stopped using Palestinian tax money, (which they are currently withholding illegally,) to pay the debt owed to the company. It's hard to imagine not having any fuel. The impact is phenomenal here. Not only do hundreds of thousands of people rely on jobs that involve driving, but millions rely on the services (taxis) to get from one place to another on a daily basis. Since the services need refueling far more regularly than private cars, the impact of the shortages is already being felt. Since today is Friday - when most people don't go to work - tomorrow will be the first day when the effects of the fuel shortage can be seen and felt. One taxi driver was already complaining that Israelis pay 20 NIS (shekels) for the same amount is costs Palestinians 100 NIS to buy. I read people may start going to the settler-colonist petrol stations. Palestinians' have a well-established ability to cope with the various problems the Occupation throws at them, and I also heard people have already started experimenting with engine fuel and other substances to keep the cars running.

UPDATE: Apparently Abbas has managed to secure the supply of petrol by taking money from the Palestinian Investment Fund to pay the debt. I don't know what this fund does, but I'm sure when people (probably foreign governments) were contributing to it, they didn't intend for the money to end up in the coffers of Dor Allon - the Israeli company that supplies the fuel).

Swimming Pools

Talking of Occupation related problems, any one who has visited Palestine, particularly in the summer, with be aware of the limited access to water here. However, after some friends invited me to go swimming (a trip that had to be postponed because of the fuel situation in fact), I've learnt that there are a number of pool at least in the central area of Palestine, that are built on top of natural springs.

And finally…how to get to Gaza

I'm sure many Palestinians would like to know how to do this. Well, the other day I was speaking to a young woman who lives in Jerusalem (and hence has a Jerusalem ID, which allows her to travel all over Israel). Her mother's family lives in Gaza, and prior to the Intifada, it apparently took them just two hours to drive down and visit. (The same amount of time it took me to visit my family when I was doing my BSc). However, since permission from the Israeli Authorities to visit Gaza is now more of a historical relic than something that actually exists nowadays, these visits no longer take place. However, a few years ago this woman's grandfather was seriously ill, and so her father and mother had to go. Permission to travel there was, as usual, denied, so her parents ended up going to Amman in Jordan, then flying to Cairo, and from Cairo across the Sinai to Gaza. Apparently this incredible feat was accomplish in one day, albeit a very long and tiring one. It's amazing that no matter how long you live in Palestine, there are always a whole host of stories like this that continue to astound and shock you.

Apple comes to Palestine

2006-05-08T20:21:00.000+03:00

As I was coming home, I saw a couple of adverts for i-pods. Then, on returning to the village, my friend T. had a surprise - a shiny new 12 inch PowerBook. So it's official. Mac is now in Palestine.

For the love of God!

2006-05-05T18:10:00.000+03:00

The donkey is back in the field next to my house, and it's toe-curling cries seem to have got louder, more frequent, and consequently more annoying. It's amazing how just one 'ea-aww' can create an affective resonance of immense pain and suffering.

Photos from BZU elections

2006-05-05T18:06:00.000+03:00

I discovered this link and this link, which include photos from the University of Birzeit elections a couple of weeks ago. There are also a few photos of the IDF appearance that I blogged about.

What the photos don't (and perhaps can't) show, is the sheer pagentary of the elections across the campus.

58 years later

2006-05-04T17:41:00.000+03:00

And the sun is still setting in the West, oblivious to everything that has happened here since 1948.

Yesterday's sunset

Perhaps the biggest irony is that the sun is actually setting 'over' Tel Aviv. However, due to the pollution cloud, the city can't be seen (from here) except on clear nights. The pollution nevertheless makes for wonderful dawn and dusks.

This particular sun marks not only the passage of day into night, but also the 58th anniversary of the Nakba (or catastrophe). There was little commemoration here.

Road Signs and Traffic Lights

2006-05-02T19:36:00.000+03:00

I don't go to Ramallah that much, which is perhaps why I tend to notice the little changes that occur every so often.

Coming back to Palestine in January, I noticed that there was a new set of traffic lights between the city and Kalandia. There has also been another set added on the road heading out of Ramallah to the north.

Today, I noticed that there are some new road markings further down this road, as you leave the city on the way to Surda. This is the first time I've seen any markings in Palestine - well, except for the settler-colonist roads.

Ironically though, as I was leaving the city (although nowhere near these new markings) there was a massive traffic jam caused by a fairly nasty crash. This involved a service and a van full of paint, which has subsequently spilt all over the vehicle and was running off down the street, leaving a pointedly different set of markings.

Only in Palestine...

2006-04-29T22:31:00.000+03:00

would you get Israeli Defense Force soldiers, protecting Palestinian children, from Israeli settler-colonists.

I decided to post this link because I actually visited Hirbat Al-Tuwani last summer. It's a tiny rural village, and I mean tiny (around 200 people). We were told about the problems with settler-colonists while there, who are apparently not even Israelis per se, but Jewish immigrants from America and France (although I do realize Israel is a nation of Jewish immigrants).

The saddest thing is that this village is so tiny and relatively isolated, that these people didn't even really care about the rest of Palestine, let alone anywhere else in the world. They just went about their lives, which in most cases meant farming the land. Then one day a settlement sprang up on a nearby hilltop, and now they can't tend their own land (- this was the place where settlers-colonists poisoned the water wells and grazing land -) and their kids can't even get to school safely.

How much are tickets to Eindhoven?

2006-04-28T14:14:00.000+03:00

Seriously!?

"Twenty years after liquidation, as Steaua were winning the European Cup, Middlesbrough had again awoken the dead. Viva Boro."

Palestinian Shorts

2006-04-27T16:22:00.000+03:00

Short posts...you can't wear shorts in the West Bank. It's just not appropriate!

After a week in which lots happened, I've spent this week doing very little. The big news in fact, is that the damn mosquitoes are back! They really are my arch nemesis here. This time though, I'm armed with a trusty plastic fly-swatter provided by my landlady. Quake in fear vampiric little bugs - your end is near!!

For those who need to waste some time, have you every thought about whether there really are such things as British intellectuals?

Also, I know this has been around for a while, but why not check out this web-site after it has been Gizoogle'd. 5 seconds of fun fo' sho'.

Results

2006-04-20T14:14:00.000+03:00

Well the votes were counted and Hamas came out winners with 23 of the 51 seats on council. Fatah got 18 and PFLP got a respectable 5 as the third placed party. I didn't actually make it out to campus for the announcement, although I did hear that the Hamas supporters were celebrating elsewhere anyway to avoid potential confrontation.

Speaking of which...

Few major events at the University of Birzeit (graduations, final exams, student elections) escape the close attentions of the Israel Defense Forces (sic), which, in its unstinting efforts to protect the Israeli public from the "terrorists" who come here to study such things as Architectural Engineering, English or Commerce, decided to make a brief appearance too yesterday.

As is the usual practice, six jeeps stopped along the road which runs along the bottom of the university (the Uni is at the top of a hill) and, since it was lunch time, some of the university's male population raced down there and begun to throw rocks before too long. This gave the army a pretext to begin shooting rubber bullets, which got everyone's attention on campus - well, that and a couple of explosions (it really is like theatre, including the large audience that assembles to watch). After a few more minutes of this, the army suddenly started firing automatic weapons (machine guns), which is when things started to get a little hairier, automatic weapons being far less discriminating with regards to where the bullets end up. There is also an army protocol with regards to their use, so they have to be threatened in a certain way before they start spraying them around. However, thankfully they left soon after that, which gave the already excitable electorate even more reason to march around chanting.

As for the results, I don't think anyone is terribly surprised. Prior to the Fatah victory last year, which was widely seen as piggy-backing the sympathy over Arafat's death, Hamas had won the previous ten years. Aside from the US opposition -> Hamas support factor, one person told me they voted Hamas, even though they voted for Fatah in the general elections, because they didn't like the hooligan-style antics of the Fatah party on campus. (This included one member bringing a gun on to campus last summer and threatening students, leading to the closure of the campus as a safety measure and then due to protests).

I don't know if there were any celebrations last night, but campus has returned to normal today, and the continuing hot weather certainly doesn't encourage spending too much time in the sun.

The Election Section Redux (The Return of Ray Von)

2006-04-18T14:46:00.000+03:00

With everything else going on in this part of the world, one annual event which may have been overshadowed in the international press, but is nonetheless making headlines here is the annual student council elections at the University of Birzeit. Each year, the 7000 strong student body elect a council according to proportional representation. I bumped into a friend last night who told me about the candidate debate today, so I decided to make the trip to the University to see what it was all about.

Entrance to the campus is unusually tight, and apparently has been for the last week or so. (This is due to last year's gunfire - of the celebratory kind - after Fatah won. Traditionally Hamas has dominated the elections/student council). I met a friend after arriving, who showed me around, pointed out which party was which, and translated the proceedings once they got going. There are seven parties running this year. Every party, bar one, is affiliated with one of the major political parties. However, they all have different names. So the Fatah group are called 'The Guys' and Hamas is called 'The Islamic Collective'. Islamic Jihad, the PFLP (split into 2 groups), Muhadara (Barghouti's party) and the group independent of any political party (whose name escapes me) made up the numbers.

The reason for the nomenclature is historical. Prior to the Palestinian Authority's arrival in 1994, political parties were banned by the Israeli Occupation Authorities. Therefore all of the groups had to make up names so they could disclaim affiliation when they needed to. Since the elections have been running for a number of years now, and happen every year, they are seen as an important indicator of the current political mood among the Palestinian population. (The general election in January was the first truly democratic one Palestine has had, and there was only one other election besides this one).

The student elections are also a real spectacle! (Lights, camera, action!)

Before the debate, all of the parties and their more ardent supporters marched towards a stage that had been erected for the purpose of the debate. The entire university closes down for two hours while the debate goes on - even the staff are given the time off - so there are plenty of dis/interested spectators. Many students proudly display their allegiance - each party has a different colour - and there are plenty of flags for people to wave. Fatah and Hamas are, conspicuously, the largest parties in terms of support. This was also reflected in the debate - if you could call it that.

Each leader was given 5 minutes to speak, and then someone from the university administration asked all the candidates questions, which they had to answer within 3 minutes. The presentations involved every party criticising Fatah and Hamas for fighting with each other all the time, except for Fatah and Hamas, who just criticised their main rival. Then, when asked what they would do about student affairs, they all began to talk about the national political situation. In fact, the candidates talked a lot about the national situation and very little about the university or the issues students face specifically!

Quite notably, all parties (including Fatah) condoned yesterday's suicide bombing, except Muhadara (and they didn't exactly condemn it!) Each time this happened, the reaction was far less equivocal than this article would make you think. The candidates for Hamas and Fatah were passionate orators, and the PFLP group also did well, because Ahmad Sadat's daughter was speaking for them. (Ahmad Sadat is the leader of the PLFP, who was in the Jericho jail that was raided last month. He was captured, and is now in an Israeli jail).

However, quite unexpectedly the sun came out, and the heat combined with the amount of time I had to stand led to a premature exit. I certainly wasn't the only one who was tired, although I was probably one of the few people who got sun-burnt!

The elections are tomorrow. The word on campus is that America's current crusade against Hamas is making Hamas very popular amongst the Palestinian students. The flip side - America's support for Fatah - is having the opposite effect. We shall see - results come out at 8 or 9pm.