21 June 2007 - Jerusalem/Ramallah
Today was one of those days that helped to break down stigmas, while at the same time reinforcing new ones. It was the day that forced me to see some things in a brighter light and others in a far dimmer one. It was a day that made me question much that I have been taught, yet validated much of which I inherently believe.
This morning began like the previous four, waking to the bright blue skies of the Middle East peering through my window. A good night's sleep ensured that I woke with an extra spring in my step and a broad smile on my face. It was a vast improvement from the previous nights, when I had slept on a single bed in my simple room on the top floor of the Notre Dame Guest House. Naturally this place has simple accommodations. It was built 120 plus years ago by the hands of French Catholic pilgrims. The rooms are sparse and offer little for amenities. But they are always clean and provide a convenient location directly across the street from the Old City. Yesterday I finally switched rooms, after 3 days of requesting to get the wireless internet connection operating in my wing. Each day I was rudely told that they would look into it. And each day I would check back in the evening to find that no efforts had been made. When I finally went to request a room change, telling them that I needed the connection in my room to get my work done, I was treated like a second class citizen by the Israeli guy at the front desk. He had the nerve to question my need for internet, asking what I do that is so important that I need it in my room. My response was simple and clear... “It's none of your business. Now get me a new room or I will ask Father Solana for it”. Father Solana is the proprieter of this establishment, and also the head of the Pontifical Institite that runs the facility. Notre Dame Guest House is owned by the Vatican and managed by the Catholic priests. And the facility is also home to the Pontifical Institute and a small Hotel Training School. Anyway, begrudgingly, and with no shortage of attitude, the clerk allowed me to switch my room.
Anyway, back to the morning. My day started like most others. After breakfast I was picked by my colleague Mazen and driven through the checkpoint and the wall to Ramallah. On our way to the office, I couldn't help but notice the scores, if not hundreds, of Fatah military making their presence known throughout the streets of the city. Each of these men, armed with Kalashnikovs or other assault rifles did nothing more than stand on street corners, chat with one another, and eat their morning breakfasts. As we approached one intersection and were caught at a red light, one of the Fatah soldiers, noticing out UN vehicle, said “Maharba” (pardon the spelling), or hello in Arabic. With my bad accent I muttered the same in response, followed by a muffled hello. His response, to my surprise, was “Hello Mr UN man” or something of the sort, accompanied with a broad, yet crooked-toothed smile. This seemed nothing like the Fatah militiamen I have seen in the past on CNN. With these pleasantries exchanged (and an even broader smile on my face), we proceeded to the office.
During my busy work day at UNDP-PAPP, I was provided with delicious coffees, a schawarma lunch, and random little Arabic sweets as I worked. The hospitality shown to me in Palestine has been second to none. And the people I have met there have been nothing short of extraordinary. And as I began to wrap up my day after a productive effort at my desk, I was kindly greeted by everyone in the office. At the office in Ramallah, the weekend consists of Thursday and Friday. Everyone was about to get a few days off and wanted to wish me well with my work efforts over the 'weekend'.
On our way out of Ramallah we had to make a pit stop at the Ministry of Planning, a beautiful and modern, yet small, building on top of one of the city's many hillsides. Around the corner from the Ministry, a beautiful marble Christian church was under construction. According to Mazen, the land for the church was donated by Yasser Arafat a few years before his death. Arafat's widow is a Christian and he was known to support religious Palestinians, regardless of their faith. As we rounded another corner we came across another government building guarded by about a dozen Fatah military personnel. This building, as of a week ago, belonged to Hamas government officials. After the uprising in Gaza, Fatah took residence in the building, already emptied by Hamas representatives who had fled in fear of retribution or arrest.
A short ten-minute drive later we were approaching the wall and the subsequent Israeli checkpoint. As we passed the wall, I caught a glimpse of a photo opportunity that seemed like a good one. Although driving rather quickly I managed to get the shot. When I got home and looked at the photos, it turned out to be a doozie... a lone Arab man leaning against the wall with an air of sadness around him and a mass of razor wire in front. Anyway, by the time we got to the checkpoint my thoughts were once again swirling. Then things took a turn for the worse.
When we got to the checkpoint, I took the initiative of pulling my UN I.D. out of my shirt and showing it to the soldier. He took it, glanced at it, and threw it back at me with force and anger. Then he began to yell at me in Hebrew. Not understanding what he was saying, I simply stared at him with a blank gaze. Immediately Mayen spoke to him in Hebrew and he responded with a forceful yell of “Passport. Passport”. Normally I would have no problem with handing it to him, but I had been instructed upon arrival that I did not have to show my passport to him as UN personnel. Nevertheless, to avoid conflict and a protracted situation, I reached into my bag to get it. As I looked back at the soldier, he had placed his finger on the trigger of his M-16 and was scowling at me. So I handed him the passport and he began to aggressively flip through every page of it. Then, to my surprise, he once again hurled it at me with fierce aggression. He then simply turned away and we drove off. I, of course, was fuming. But Mazen's realtive calm made me realize that this was something that he dealt with on a daily basis. So I had no right to make an issue of it... or even address it for that matter.
As we appraoched the Old City and my hotel, we were met by roadblocks in every direction and hundreds of police and army personnel. Having no idea what was going on, we proceeded to the checkpoint, where Mazen worked his magic in Hebrew and convinced a soldier to let us pass. When I asked Mazen what he had said, he replied that he told the soldier we were on our way to an important meeting. Apparently, Mazen had been upset by the earlier situation as well, because as we were leaving, he said, “Thank you, Ali” to the soldier. This, he told me, would really rile the young army boy, as it was referring to him as an Arab. After a few chuckles, I was back at the Notre Dame.
When I walked into the Guest House, I proceeded to the front desk to enquire about the commotion outside the gate. It is then that I was told that there were upwards of 5000 police and military in the area to prevent violence during a controversial gay rights parade. I was flabbergasted. The thought of a gay rights parade in this town seemed impossible to me. To make this point clear... as someone who grew up in the Bible belt and in a hub of religious conservatism... I have never in my life been in a place so conservative. There was no doubt in my mind that open gayness would not only be unacceptable here, but it could also be dangerous. So I quickly went to my room and did a quick Google search about this parade. It was then that I found out about the mayhem it was causing. Already over a hundred conservative jews (Haredim sect) had been arrested over the past week, one with an explosive device in hand. It was then that I remembered all the trash bin fires I had seen when I arrived here early Sunday morning. They were buring in Haredim neighborhoods, lit shortly after the end of Saturday's Sabbath. Anyway, rather than rewrite the news, you can read about what happened here (http://www.365gay.com/Newscon07/06/062107israel.htm). Feel free to insert the joke here... like why Gerrit would be reading 365Gay News. All I can say is that you can find anything on Google.
To keep this story moving, my curiosity got the better of me and I decided to check out the mayhem. I loaded up my camera, had a couple of beers with an old Palestinian Jerusalemite at the bar, and worked my way down toward King David Street where the parade was being held. It didn't take long for me to feel the tension in the air. There were Orthodox Jews everywhere, shouting in Hebrew with anger brewing over. Even the police looked nervous. The closer I got, the more tense it felt. With sirens blaring, people running around, and not a 'normal' looking person in sight, I decided to avoid the conflict and head to Jaffe Road for some food. I decided that I wanted no part of this fight as it wasn't my fight to be fought. As much as I believe in the rights of gay people, I felt no desire to go to battle with a bunch of nutjobs ready to riot. When I got home and read the news, I found out that yet another man had been arrested with a bomb and that during the last parade three people had been stabbed and numerous others were pelted with bags of feces and bottles of urine.
So here I am, back in my strange Catholic fortress of a hotel, in a city on edge, in a nation living in what appears to be constant fear. Fear, as a word, may not even do this place justice. In a country that has the largest military/police presence per capita in the world, where over half of the military is not even in uniform (see intelligence?), fear cannot describe the energy in the Jerusalem air. It is a mix of paranoia, angst, fundamentalism, and hatred.
Just a few minutes before I began writing this paragraph, I was surprised by a call from my dear friend Wael, a Palestinian-American in Chicago whose parents and sister live in Ramallah. Wael and I used to be roommates in Colorado, spending many a night with beers and the sheesha talking about Middle East politics. Since I began to apply for this work almost two months ago, Wael has been my sounding board, mentor, and muse all in one. He has called me every few days since I got here, giving me the opportunity to vent my emotions from a place that makes me feel increasingly isolated. After yet another hour long conversation with Wael, I paused from my ranting to reflect on what another dear friend on mine, Tali, told me. As an Israeli from Tel Aviv, one with a good perspective and even better heart, Tali has tried to provide me with some balance of thought and emotion since my arrival. She told me to try my best to be objective and to see both sides of the equation.
To Tali, who I have a great deal of respect for, I say this. Of all the people I love in this world, a great number of them are Jewish. One of the most important people in the world to me, Brett, is my Hebrew Bert Mack brother. I have a tremendous love for many Jewish people, and in no way do I ever judge anyone by their faith or culture. I also now know that what is happening in the Palestinian/Israeli conflict has little to do with religion. But what I see and experience in Jerusalem is nothing short of dumbfounding. The religious fundamentalism here is shocking. While Tel Aviv is undoubtedly a beautiful, liberal, and progressive city, Jerusalem could be no different. This place is downright ugly and at times, truly frightening. It is arguably the most unpleasant place I have ever been in my life. And if I had any say in the matter, I would pack up tomorrow and move to the relatively 'safe' confines of Ramallah, which now seems like a much more progressive, modernized, and westernized city, at least in its feel from my fly-on-the-wall perspective.
What I got out of today is nothing short of extraordinary once again. For years I have always had some level of sympathy for the Palestinian people, not because I don't like Israelis or Jews or anything of the sort. It is that I have always sympathized with the oppressed and it has always seemed to me that the Palestinians were the ones who were oppressed. But I also felt that it was the Arabs who were the extremists, the violent and gun-wielding fundamentalists who sought to destroy the Nation of Israel at any cost - including their own lives. But what I see now is quite a difference picture. Although I have never been to Gaza and have never been exposed to Hamas or other Islamic fundamentalists, I have been to Jerusalem... one of the most frightening, violent, and radically religious places on earth. How is it that this side of the debate rarely makes the headlines? Perhaps some of you can shed some light on this. Read the papers tomorrow. Check the front pages of your local rags. See how deep into the back pages you have to dig to find stories about the violence in Jerusalem. Hopefully the world is starting to catch on. Hopefully this kind of fanatacism will make headlines. And hopefully the gay community in the West is gaining enough of a foothold to ensure that this kind of bullshit makes the headlines. You can scoff at these comments. You can consider me a flaming liberal if you want. But in this day and age, shouldn't we all at least be able to show out true colors and exercise our freedoms of speech, gathering, and peaceful protest without fear of violent retribution? Thank goodness the Israeli Supreme Court approved the march this morning, disregading the will of the Jerusalem City Council to ban the parade, and providing the necessary security to let it happen. Shame on the Rabbis who are condemning these brave people to hell. Shame on the religious nutjobs who want nothing more than to create this climate of fear and hatred while invoking the name of God at the same time. And shame on all of us for not paying attention to what is happening in this dark and depressing part of our world. All I can think of now is that this is arguably the most unholy place in the world – this Holy City of Jerusalem.
Today was one of those days that helped to break down stigmas, while at the same time reinforcing new ones. It was the day that forced me to see some things in a brighter light and others in a far dimmer one. It was a day that made me question much that I have been taught, yet validated much of which I inherently believe.
This morning began like the previous four, waking to the bright blue skies of the Middle East peering through my window. A good night's sleep ensured that I woke with an extra spring in my step and a broad smile on my face. It was a vast improvement from the previous nights, when I had slept on a single bed in my simple room on the top floor of the Notre Dame Guest House. Naturally this place has simple accommodations. It was built 120 plus years ago by the hands of French Catholic pilgrims. The rooms are sparse and offer little for amenities. But they are always clean and provide a convenient location directly across the street from the Old City. Yesterday I finally switched rooms, after 3 days of requesting to get the wireless internet connection operating in my wing. Each day I was rudely told that they would look into it. And each day I would check back in the evening to find that no efforts had been made. When I finally went to request a room change, telling them that I needed the connection in my room to get my work done, I was treated like a second class citizen by the Israeli guy at the front desk. He had the nerve to question my need for internet, asking what I do that is so important that I need it in my room. My response was simple and clear... “It's none of your business. Now get me a new room or I will ask Father Solana for it”. Father Solana is the proprieter of this establishment, and also the head of the Pontifical Institite that runs the facility. Notre Dame Guest House is owned by the Vatican and managed by the Catholic priests. And the facility is also home to the Pontifical Institute and a small Hotel Training School. Anyway, begrudgingly, and with no shortage of attitude, the clerk allowed me to switch my room.
Anyway, back to the morning. My day started like most others. After breakfast I was picked by my colleague Mazen and driven through the checkpoint and the wall to Ramallah. On our way to the office, I couldn't help but notice the scores, if not hundreds, of Fatah military making their presence known throughout the streets of the city. Each of these men, armed with Kalashnikovs or other assault rifles did nothing more than stand on street corners, chat with one another, and eat their morning breakfasts. As we approached one intersection and were caught at a red light, one of the Fatah soldiers, noticing out UN vehicle, said “Maharba” (pardon the spelling), or hello in Arabic. With my bad accent I muttered the same in response, followed by a muffled hello. His response, to my surprise, was “Hello Mr UN man” or something of the sort, accompanied with a broad, yet crooked-toothed smile. This seemed nothing like the Fatah militiamen I have seen in the past on CNN. With these pleasantries exchanged (and an even broader smile on my face), we proceeded to the office.
During my busy work day at UNDP-PAPP, I was provided with delicious coffees, a schawarma lunch, and random little Arabic sweets as I worked. The hospitality shown to me in Palestine has been second to none. And the people I have met there have been nothing short of extraordinary. And as I began to wrap up my day after a productive effort at my desk, I was kindly greeted by everyone in the office. At the office in Ramallah, the weekend consists of Thursday and Friday. Everyone was about to get a few days off and wanted to wish me well with my work efforts over the 'weekend'.
On our way out of Ramallah we had to make a pit stop at the Ministry of Planning, a beautiful and modern, yet small, building on top of one of the city's many hillsides. Around the corner from the Ministry, a beautiful marble Christian church was under construction. According to Mazen, the land for the church was donated by Yasser Arafat a few years before his death. Arafat's widow is a Christian and he was known to support religious Palestinians, regardless of their faith. As we rounded another corner we came across another government building guarded by about a dozen Fatah military personnel. This building, as of a week ago, belonged to Hamas government officials. After the uprising in Gaza, Fatah took residence in the building, already emptied by Hamas representatives who had fled in fear of retribution or arrest.
A short ten-minute drive later we were approaching the wall and the subsequent Israeli checkpoint. As we passed the wall, I caught a glimpse of a photo opportunity that seemed like a good one. Although driving rather quickly I managed to get the shot. When I got home and looked at the photos, it turned out to be a doozie... a lone Arab man leaning against the wall with an air of sadness around him and a mass of razor wire in front. Anyway, by the time we got to the checkpoint my thoughts were once again swirling. Then things took a turn for the worse.
When we got to the checkpoint, I took the initiative of pulling my UN I.D. out of my shirt and showing it to the soldier. He took it, glanced at it, and threw it back at me with force and anger. Then he began to yell at me in Hebrew. Not understanding what he was saying, I simply stared at him with a blank gaze. Immediately Mayen spoke to him in Hebrew and he responded with a forceful yell of “Passport. Passport”. Normally I would have no problem with handing it to him, but I had been instructed upon arrival that I did not have to show my passport to him as UN personnel. Nevertheless, to avoid conflict and a protracted situation, I reached into my bag to get it. As I looked back at the soldier, he had placed his finger on the trigger of his M-16 and was scowling at me. So I handed him the passport and he began to aggressively flip through every page of it. Then, to my surprise, he once again hurled it at me with fierce aggression. He then simply turned away and we drove off. I, of course, was fuming. But Mazen's realtive calm made me realize that this was something that he dealt with on a daily basis. So I had no right to make an issue of it... or even address it for that matter.
As we appraoched the Old City and my hotel, we were met by roadblocks in every direction and hundreds of police and army personnel. Having no idea what was going on, we proceeded to the checkpoint, where Mazen worked his magic in Hebrew and convinced a soldier to let us pass. When I asked Mazen what he had said, he replied that he told the soldier we were on our way to an important meeting. Apparently, Mazen had been upset by the earlier situation as well, because as we were leaving, he said, “Thank you, Ali” to the soldier. This, he told me, would really rile the young army boy, as it was referring to him as an Arab. After a few chuckles, I was back at the Notre Dame.
When I walked into the Guest House, I proceeded to the front desk to enquire about the commotion outside the gate. It is then that I was told that there were upwards of 5000 police and military in the area to prevent violence during a controversial gay rights parade. I was flabbergasted. The thought of a gay rights parade in this town seemed impossible to me. To make this point clear... as someone who grew up in the Bible belt and in a hub of religious conservatism... I have never in my life been in a place so conservative. There was no doubt in my mind that open gayness would not only be unacceptable here, but it could also be dangerous. So I quickly went to my room and did a quick Google search about this parade. It was then that I found out about the mayhem it was causing. Already over a hundred conservative jews (Haredim sect) had been arrested over the past week, one with an explosive device in hand. It was then that I remembered all the trash bin fires I had seen when I arrived here early Sunday morning. They were buring in Haredim neighborhoods, lit shortly after the end of Saturday's Sabbath. Anyway, rather than rewrite the news, you can read about what happened here (http://www.365gay.com/Newscon07/06/062107israel.htm). Feel free to insert the joke here... like why Gerrit would be reading 365Gay News. All I can say is that you can find anything on Google.
To keep this story moving, my curiosity got the better of me and I decided to check out the mayhem. I loaded up my camera, had a couple of beers with an old Palestinian Jerusalemite at the bar, and worked my way down toward King David Street where the parade was being held. It didn't take long for me to feel the tension in the air. There were Orthodox Jews everywhere, shouting in Hebrew with anger brewing over. Even the police looked nervous. The closer I got, the more tense it felt. With sirens blaring, people running around, and not a 'normal' looking person in sight, I decided to avoid the conflict and head to Jaffe Road for some food. I decided that I wanted no part of this fight as it wasn't my fight to be fought. As much as I believe in the rights of gay people, I felt no desire to go to battle with a bunch of nutjobs ready to riot. When I got home and read the news, I found out that yet another man had been arrested with a bomb and that during the last parade three people had been stabbed and numerous others were pelted with bags of feces and bottles of urine.
So here I am, back in my strange Catholic fortress of a hotel, in a city on edge, in a nation living in what appears to be constant fear. Fear, as a word, may not even do this place justice. In a country that has the largest military/police presence per capita in the world, where over half of the military is not even in uniform (see intelligence?), fear cannot describe the energy in the Jerusalem air. It is a mix of paranoia, angst, fundamentalism, and hatred.
Just a few minutes before I began writing this paragraph, I was surprised by a call from my dear friend Wael, a Palestinian-American in Chicago whose parents and sister live in Ramallah. Wael and I used to be roommates in Colorado, spending many a night with beers and the sheesha talking about Middle East politics. Since I began to apply for this work almost two months ago, Wael has been my sounding board, mentor, and muse all in one. He has called me every few days since I got here, giving me the opportunity to vent my emotions from a place that makes me feel increasingly isolated. After yet another hour long conversation with Wael, I paused from my ranting to reflect on what another dear friend on mine, Tali, told me. As an Israeli from Tel Aviv, one with a good perspective and even better heart, Tali has tried to provide me with some balance of thought and emotion since my arrival. She told me to try my best to be objective and to see both sides of the equation.
To Tali, who I have a great deal of respect for, I say this. Of all the people I love in this world, a great number of them are Jewish. One of the most important people in the world to me, Brett, is my Hebrew Bert Mack brother. I have a tremendous love for many Jewish people, and in no way do I ever judge anyone by their faith or culture. I also now know that what is happening in the Palestinian/Israeli conflict has little to do with religion. But what I see and experience in Jerusalem is nothing short of dumbfounding. The religious fundamentalism here is shocking. While Tel Aviv is undoubtedly a beautiful, liberal, and progressive city, Jerusalem could be no different. This place is downright ugly and at times, truly frightening. It is arguably the most unpleasant place I have ever been in my life. And if I had any say in the matter, I would pack up tomorrow and move to the relatively 'safe' confines of Ramallah, which now seems like a much more progressive, modernized, and westernized city, at least in its feel from my fly-on-the-wall perspective.
What I got out of today is nothing short of extraordinary once again. For years I have always had some level of sympathy for the Palestinian people, not because I don't like Israelis or Jews or anything of the sort. It is that I have always sympathized with the oppressed and it has always seemed to me that the Palestinians were the ones who were oppressed. But I also felt that it was the Arabs who were the extremists, the violent and gun-wielding fundamentalists who sought to destroy the Nation of Israel at any cost - including their own lives. But what I see now is quite a difference picture. Although I have never been to Gaza and have never been exposed to Hamas or other Islamic fundamentalists, I have been to Jerusalem... one of the most frightening, violent, and radically religious places on earth. How is it that this side of the debate rarely makes the headlines? Perhaps some of you can shed some light on this. Read the papers tomorrow. Check the front pages of your local rags. See how deep into the back pages you have to dig to find stories about the violence in Jerusalem. Hopefully the world is starting to catch on. Hopefully this kind of fanatacism will make headlines. And hopefully the gay community in the West is gaining enough of a foothold to ensure that this kind of bullshit makes the headlines. You can scoff at these comments. You can consider me a flaming liberal if you want. But in this day and age, shouldn't we all at least be able to show out true colors and exercise our freedoms of speech, gathering, and peaceful protest without fear of violent retribution? Thank goodness the Israeli Supreme Court approved the march this morning, disregading the will of the Jerusalem City Council to ban the parade, and providing the necessary security to let it happen. Shame on the Rabbis who are condemning these brave people to hell. Shame on the religious nutjobs who want nothing more than to create this climate of fear and hatred while invoking the name of God at the same time. And shame on all of us for not paying attention to what is happening in this dark and depressing part of our world. All I can think of now is that this is arguably the most unholy place in the world – this Holy City of Jerusalem.
Photo #1 - Palestinian man resting on the wall
Photo #2 - A friendly local chap
Photo #3 - Roadside vendors near Ramallah
Photo #4 - A Palestinian stop sign?
Photo #5 - A 10 Argorot coin from Israel (worth about 3 cents)
Notice the minorah? See the blob behind it? Any ideas what it is? Most people here don't even know. It is the Kingdom of David... the original Holy Land that extreme Zionists believe Jews must control before the Messiah comes. This land includes Palestine, Jordan, and parts of Syria and Egypt. And who says that that the Zionist beliefs are not entrenched in Israeli politics? Ponder that one for a while.
1 comment:
My dearest Gerrit,
You have brought me to tears. It's been hard to read your blogs, and seems it is getting harder every day. Part of me wants to stop reading, but for now, that part that wants to read on is stronger.
Having never lived in Jerusalem I cannot commant much about what is going on, except to say that the fight between the open minded (mostly secular & agnostic, but also reformed Jews) and the Haredim is a never-ending fight. They make me ashamed of being Jewish. They mooch off of this country yet pay no respect to it, or to it's children. On memorial day, the day we stand still for a moment of silence to remember all those soldiers who have sacrifised their lives, they will not stand. They simply ignore the day year after year.
The gay violance that you have seen, that is only in Jerusalem. I am proud to say that gay people DO have rights in Israel, and live a normal life as anyone else. (The parade in Tel-Aviv is a huge HAPPY event that goes on every year)
I really wish you could meet some Israelis- not the angry sodier who's probably acted that way because of fear; not the guest house clerk, who might just happen to be a jerk; talk to my mom, talk to the people of Tel-Aviv, and Haifa (where there are Arabs living amongst Israelis in peace) and hopefully you'll see my people from a different point of view. We are not saints, and there are extrimists and violent people amongst the Israeli people, but the majority of the people want th same thing the Palestinians want, a safe country to call home.
Thank you for your kind words about me. I truely love you.
Tali
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