West Bank Journal

2002-12-23T18:20:00.000-08:00

This website is now retired, and will only remain while I work on a "final edit" of the journals, primarily for the sake of readability.

The final edit will be posted to www.memeticcandiru.com

Best regards,
Dan.

2002-11-22T20:20:00.000-08:00

Well, I've arrived in Calgary, in one piece! Yaayyyyyyyyy

My final updates are below. I will eventually be re-editing the journals, filling in "blank" days, and incorporating my written notes. There are certain sensitive topics, such as Palestinian resistance, which need to be discussed separate of people or places. I'll also be adding and captioning more pictures as I get my hands on them. I'll be posting the final product to www.memeticcandiru.com in a month or so.

I will be retiring palmonitor@hotmail.com, but can be reached at daniel@swan.com, or swan_daniel@hotmail.com

I hope everyone enjoyed the show, and most importantly, I hope it has created a greater interest and awareness of the Israeli occupation of Palestine.

I'd like to thank everyone, too many to mention, for all of their contributions, both big and small: All support given to this undertaking is very appreciated.

My final updates are below.

2002-11-22T15:51:00.000-08:00

Nov 21: Land in Amsterdam
---------------------------

After landing and parting with the Muslim lady, I find a corner to sleep in. 12 hours later, I catch my next flight. It's a gruelling 9 hours, but my
seat-mate is a very pleasant and entertaining middle aged American Window. The landing is INCREDIBLY rocky. For the final approach, the pilot keeps alternating
between throttle and breaks, something I've never seen before. The wings are dipping left and right as we near the runway. It was a BLOODY SCARY landing, and
I'm glad when it's over.

The American customs officers are pricks. The guy asks me about the Argila, which I've carried with me, as it is fragile. He asks what I'll smoke in it. I tell
him tobacco. He asks me what kind of tobacco. I tell him "tobacco Tobacco". He asks me what kind is that? I tell him
"I'm not a fucking botanist man, I just know of one kind of tobacco".

Needless to say, I was subsequently directed to have my bags thoroughly searched. I didn't really mind, as I have nothing to hide, and time to burn before my next connexion. Hell, at least this wasn't by gunpoint or in the shadow of a tank barrel.

The next leg is fairly easy. I meet an amiable 24 yr old Canadian engineer named Colin. He's of Lebanese descent, and was particularly interested in my trip. We have a very pleasant chat about mideast politics and relationships.

Canadian customs are much more pleasant than American. I fill out all the forms truthfully: I have an excessive amount of (Palestinian) Tobacco with me, agricultural goods (Olive oil),
and I told them I shipped goods ahead of me. I am directed for search, but the guy was more curious about the value of shipped goods. I tell him it was
Palestinian flags and clothing I shipped ahead to avoid trouble at Ben Gurion Airport. He seems satisfied, in an "Is that all?" kind of manner and tells me to proceed, with no further questions. Heck, they don't even charge me duty on my tobacco!

HOME AT LAST!!!!!!!!

There's no place like homeThere's no place like homeThere's no place like homeThere's no place like homeThere's no place like homeThere's no place like homeThere's no place like homeThere's no place like homeThere's no place like homeThere's no place like homeThere's no place like homeThere's no place like homeThere's no place like homeThere's no place like homeThere's no place like homeThere's no place like home
There's no place like homeThere's no place like homeThere's no place like homeThere's no place like homeThere's no place like homeThere's no place like homeThere's no place like homeThere's no place like homeThere's no place like homeThere's no place like homeThere's no place like homeThere's no place like homeThere's no place like homeThere's no place like homeThere's no place like homeThere's no place like home

2002-11-22T14:51:00.000-08:00

Nov 19: Shopping and relaxing
------------------------------

Spent morning relaxing and shopping for gifts. In the afternoon, I went to the post office to mail items that I did not want to take through the airport. 3 of the packages are almost identical: Redundancy in case any get lost in the mail. Here's what I mailed:

Package 1:

Pal Flag
Undeveloped film
Keffiyeh
"I got stoned in Gaza" T-shirt.

Package 2:

Pal Flag
Undeveloped film
Keffiyeh
"I got stoned in Gaza" T-shirt.

Package 3:

Pal Flag
Keffiyeh
"I got stoned in Nablus" T-shirt.

Package 4:

Journal, phone numbers, other written stuff.

Package 5:

Some Palestinian Authority patches.

In the evening, I go to the internet cafe and continue updates. I've been running into many ISMers on their way home from various assignments. End up talking to one who had been in the Qualqilya area where the wall was. She tells me that there was a massive sit in to stop the army from destroying the olive groves, and that several ISMers were beaten/arrested. Looking it up on the net, I see that Susan Barney and Charlotte were among them.

Go back to Hostel. Spend evening drinking Arak (A Palestinian anise-based liquor) and smoking Argila with other hostellers. A great time is had.

Nov 20: Last minute errands, departure.
----------------------------------------

Do some last minute errands during the day.

I Repack bags, removing anything to suggest where I was, or who I had been with. I'd already spent an evening "Sanitizing" my wallet. Make arrangments to get "service" taxi to airport at 8pm.

I call my embassy for advice on dealing with the exit-interrogation I am dreading at the airport. I was hoping for some concrete advice on what my rights are, but found out that I don't really have any, and that I am obligated to answer all questions they ask. They do urge me to call embassy if things get hairy.

I still havn't decided what kind of story I will give them when I leave. I am waffling between a full disclosure of my activities (minus names of people I dealt with), or a story in which I present myself as a christian tourist (Only Jerusalem and Bethlehem, sir!). To mention I was in the West Bank, and particularly Gaza is to invite more scrutiny and interest than I want (They are always REALLY curious about anyone who goes to Gaza, which is a pressure cooker of Palestinian resistance). I fear being kept and missing my plane. Worse, is possible deportation, which includes a 7-year travel ban to Israel, or even worse, possible detention. I've heard horror stories about the exit-questioning, and am dreading it.

A lady at the hostel is leaving in the evening as well, and takes the Service with me. She is a former ISMer who originally came to deliver medical supplies to the West Bank. We discuss how we are going to approach the questioning. I still havn't decided what approach I will take, but am leaning towards full discloser (Sans mentioning names of people I met/dealt with), as I am a shitty liar. I figure that if I am truthful, and they don't like it, they can go screw themselves.

Arriving at the airport, I big Marianne goodbye, and proceed to check in. I see a woman I think is some kind of check-in helper, and I ask her where I should go. She asks for my passport. She barely glances at it, and asks me "Why were you in Gaza??".

I am completely shocked by this question. There's nothing in my passport to indicate I was in Gaza. My mind races: Did they follow me? Did she have a picture of me in Gaza? Is it chance I approached her? How much does she know?

I laugh, and do my best to roll with the punches: "How did you know I was in Gaza??" I ask. She replies "We have our ways. I am an airport security supervisor. Will you please come with me??"

So she takes me aside to a bench reserved for interviews, and assigns and interviewer to me. My interviewer is a pleasant, well groomed female, in her mid 20s. I basically say I travelled the West Bank and Gaza for 40 days, but do not mention ISM. She asks me why I had stopovers in the states and Amsterdan, instead of flying direct. I reply that it was the choice of the travel agent, likely based on economy. They ask me for my journal, my camera. I tell them I kept no journal, and that I lost my camera. They ask me for names of people I stayed with. I tell them I do not remember. They ask me how I expect to keep in touch. I tell them I gave any friends I made email addresses, leaving it to them to write me.

On-the-fly, I develop a fairly consistent story, a subset of the truth, which I present to them: I was laid off, and looking for adventure, which is why I chose this "Dangerous" destination. I fall back into my "Crazy, adventurous, and naive" Canadian persona which I've had a fair bit of success with with soldiers. It's a fairly comfortable position to work from, as it's reasonably accurate. I am very nervous, but do my best to hide it.

She asks about the details of how I planned my trip: budgets, time frames. I don't know the purpose of these questions, so answer truthfully. I also admit that I went horribly over-budget.

She is quite curious about my living and travel arrangements. I tell her basically the truth: I travelled by "service" and taxi, sometimes by Israeli bus. I am candid about all of the cities I was in, including Jenin and Gaza (Which I had previously decided NOT to talk about). She asks about living arrangements. I tell her the truth: A combination of hotels and families I met along the way.

She leaves and talks to the original "supervisor" for a few minutes. The supervisor comes back. She is harsh in her manner. The questions are similar to the ones already asked, but come rapid-fire. It's almost hard to keep my verbal balance.

She doesn't believe me about the frequent invites from people to stay with them. I just shrug. She appears skeptical about my loss of Camera ("Why is it you keep losing things"??)

Finally the rapid-fire questions end, and I am escorted to a physical screening area and put in line. They put red stickers on my luggage, which I notice no one else has. I imagine this means "search this guy REALLY good".

The search is thorough. They go through ever single item, scrutinize it, x-ray it. I am personally searched and scanned. I am a bit apprehensive, as I don't know where this is going. I dread further questioning.

After an hour, I see that everyone has been processed except for myself and an elderly, portly Muslim woman (I could tell by the head-scarf). Her bags are being searched item-by item as well.

Eventually, they tell me I can pack my bags, however, my discman has caused them interest: The adapter does not work (Broke two weeks ago), and they find this suspicious. Eventually they tell me I can't take the adapter with me, but they will mail it on ahead to me (Pretty nice of them).

I am asked to provide my ticket to another agent who will finalize my check-in on my behalf.

By the end of the search, things seem to relax a bit. The searchers respond a little to my attempts at small talk, and I begin to feel a little less like a criminal.

They check in my big bag for me, and personally escort me to the gate, which has already finished boarding. I board the plane, I take my seat.

(In regards to the Gaza thing, I puzzled over this for some time. It seems significant that they knew I was in Gaza, but knew little else, and did not mention my time with ISM. This suggests to me that there was something about the passport which tipped her off. I scrutinized the passport, and found no Gaza passport stamp, however, I did notice that one page was dog-eared. I don't remember doing this, and suspect this may have been done at the Eres crossing to Gaza as a "Signal".)

I see that my seat-mate is the Muslim woman I had seen being searched before. I chuckled inside, believing it wasn't chance we were seat-mates. I wonder if the attendants have been warned to watch us. I wonder if we are being put together so we don't risk "offending" other passengers.

I try to talk to her, but she doesn't speak any English. I see she has a headache. I get her ibuprofen and water, for which she is very thankful.

Eventually she starts crying, and trying to explain something to me in Arabic. The woman on the seat ahead turns around, saying that she can understand Arabic, and translates: It's something about her money being stolen from her by security at Ben Gurion airport. The Jewish lady's
Arabic is not sufficient to get more than a basic outline of the story. We ask airplane staff to find an interpreter, but none can be found. I try to give the woman my money, but she refuses. I pat her on the arm reassuringly, but there's not a hell of a lot more I can do.

I know I have a long layover in Amsterdam, so I resolve to stay with her. I make her distress and need for a translator known to the attendant. The attendant tells us that this is not the first time she's heard of money going missing during airport searches. She assures me that they will find a translator once we hit ground.
I wait with the Muslim woman until assistance arrives for her. She is very grateful, and pats her heart, and shakes my hand profusely as we part (Pal women of non-childbearing age are allowed to shake hands).

Later I will notice that a bag of Frankincense is also missing from my own luggage. The other two are still there. I'm sure it's an honest, but sloppy mistake.

2002-11-19T08:05:00.000-08:00

Nov 18: Continuing on to Jerusalem
------------------------------------------------------------

I wake early, go to the net Cafe. It isn't open. I walk around. I see a "Free Marwan Barghouti" poster, and decide I want one. Marwan Barghouti is an articulate and respected Palestinian activist. His writings are fantastic, and he's been repeatedly imprisioned and tortured by the Israeli army. I call the #, go to the camaign office, and get a poster. It's a great poster, with a picture of him looking victorious in handcuffs. How many people can appear victorious when cuffed?

I am warned not to take it through the airport, and to mail it ahead of me.

I return to net cafe. See some boys sitting there. Sit with them. They tell me the Israelis are invading the next day. They are matter of fact about it, like they are being grounded or having a day off of school or something.

I spend a few hours updating journals.

I return to hotel, chat with hans and the staff and a few of the "lobby regulars". One of them is a Law student, and tells me about a case he is dealing with that he expects will become an international scandal in 10 days. Aparrently it involves mistaken identity, and a man who has been tortured and imprisioned by Israel, Jordan, AND the PA. He's trying to go public, but all three countries want to kill him. He is also having much difficulty getting Amnesty abroad due to his circumstances. The student told me this is the tip of the iceberg, and that there is much more to is. It sounds interesting, and it will be interesting to see if this does become news.

Leave the hotel, catch a "service" to Qualandia checkpoint, the south exit out of Ramallah. Approaching, I can see that there is a MASSIVE lineup. A man with a cart approaches me. He tells me that if I let him carry my bags on his cart (for a small fee), we can use the "car lane" which is much less congested. Determined to do as the locals do, I decline his offer.

I get in line. After 20 minutes, I regret my choice, and wonder if I can get out. It's a big press of people. In the middle east, both among Jews and Arabs, there's no "line-up courtesy" that I can detect.. it's everyone for themselves. He who can push the best gets out first. I observed the same at Ben Gurion airport when I arrived in Tel Aviv.

A man tells me that I can get through more quickly by going through the "Internationals" lane. I did not know this, but decline his offer. I tell him "If you wait, I wait". A few of the Palestinians around me thanked me, which is good, as I had previously felt a little uncomfortable in their line: My luggage took up considerable space and was awkward for all in the close press of people.

Another man tells me "You are in the wrong line". I reply "I think we're all in the wrong line". A tall student nearby understands and echos "yes, we *are* all in the wrong line".

My forearms and my traps, and my lats, are in a lot of pain from dragging my weights around. They never really recovered from their overwork two days ago. I can't wait for a hot shower in Canada.

An hour later, I get to the front of the line. The Israelis give my bags a cursory search. They are polite. I've actually found the Israeli soldier "checkers" at Qualandia to be pretty decent, although the soldiers who patrol the crowds are pretty gruff.

I grab another "service" to continue on to Jerusalem. We come to another checkpoint. The soldiers give a cursory check of the people inside the service, and let us continue through. I arrive at my hostel at 6pm.

I meet some people there. Aparrently, there's going to be some kind of "settler march" through the old city, to assert their wacko rights. A few of us go to see it, but arrive late. We don't see any settlers.

I go to bed early and sleep well.

2002-11-19T07:40:00.000-08:00

Nov 17: Relaxing day in Ramallah
--------------------------------------------------

I'm up at 11am. I see Hans. He's quite embarassed about the previous evening, and apologizes. I tell him he can make it up by having morning tea with me. We have tea, and chat.

I spend most of the day doing internet.

Mid afternoon, I grab a Shoarma and return to the hotel to eat it (it's Ramadan!). Although I've mentioned it very little, it's been very problematic eating during Ramadan. Even though I'm not Muslim, it's considered quite rude to eat in front of them while they are fasting. Some days, my only pre-dark meals have consisted of chocolate bars furtively wolfed down in bathrooms. I definitely look forward to resuming my normal 6-meal-a-day life in Calgary.

Spend the evening at Kit-Kat, updating my written journals and transcribing voice-notes from my recorder. I have two mochaccinos, the first in more than a month, and an Argila.

I am one of the last people there. I witness a fight between Bassam and his staff. Aparrently he's got QUITE a temper. He's about 6'4", and built, which adds significant oooomph to his temper tantrum. As I leave, he apologizes to me for having to witness the spectacle. Nonetheless, I'd definitely go back to kit-kat. It's a progressive little cafe, has great food, beer... quiet, charming atmosphere.

As an aside, I think Ramallah is my favorite Palestinian city. When it's not under curfew, it's actually quite a metropolatin place.

The day was uneventful but relaxing.

2002-11-18T10:32:00.000-08:00

Nov 16
----------

I am jerked out of sleep by an earthshattering burst of 50cal outside my window.

I swear, if I had claws you would have to pry me from the ceiling; If I had a full bladder, I've no doubt I would have voided it.
Another burst follows, and my body clenches up reflexively.

I jump up, throw my clothes on, and run out to the dining room to see what's going on. I look outside, and see no one. I could not detect what the tank was shooting at. Perhaps it was just waking the kids so they could get an early start on their stone-throwing day.

Packing the night before, I noticed that one of the Keffiehs I'd bought was a bit watermarked. I went to the old city, hoping to return it, but nothing was open. I was also hoping to run into either Achmed or Kassem, as I had missed them the day before. I eventually run into Kassem, but we can only chat for a short bit. He tells me how his brother has been imprisioned without trial or charge for several months. His story is very poigniant, and I ask him to repeat it on tape. He changes when recorded, and falls into much soapboxing, which somewhat eclipses his actual story.

I will post the recording when my server comes back up.

I return to the hotel and proceed to cover my bill with Abbed. He informs me that the owner has given me a free night because the invasion kept me there longer than planned. Thank him, and as I go, I give him my maglite, along with a box of refill batteries. He seems quite pleased.

I grab my bags and start to walk south. After a block a taxi comes along. He takes me for 4 blocks, but pulls over, informing me that there is a tank on the next street and it will fire upon him if it sees him. I bid him goodbye and proceed on foot.

Coming around the corner, I see a jeep and a tank. The jeep has it's hood up and has overheated. As soon as the soldiers see me I set my bags down and raise my empty hands. The soldier on the top of the tank tells me to come closer and bring my bags. He asks me a few basic questions, and asks me to open my bags. I tell him I am going to Jerusalem. He is satisfied, and tells me I can continue.

As I pass the tank, I see a white female 50 feet ahead. I call out to her and she stops. She tells me she is an ISMer from Switzerland. She says she is scared silly of the soldiers, and snuck by them as they questioned me.

I tell her that I never have problems with the soldiers. She asks my why that is. I tell her I think it is because I move slowly around them, speak slowly, don't fuck with them, and talk to them as equals. She tells me that she bosses the soldiers around, and that they respond to this because they are mindless order-takers. Alrighty....

She proceeds to light up a smoke. Looking around, I see no one is looking, so I take a sip from one of my bottles (It's impolite to smoke or drink in public during Ramadan). As I sipped, she tore into me for being culturally insensitive. I pointed out that she herself has a cigarette in her hand, to which she just says "oh". I realized at this point I am dealing with an idiot.

For some reason, a Palestinian couple with a child started walking with us. It appears they just want to keep us company. I am not at all happy about this. Not only are they needlessly endangering themselves, they could possibly hurt my chances of making it past the soldiers. I slowly put some distance between the others and myself, and walk more to the middle of the road.

We walk on, and soon a jeep approachesus. It completely ignores me, and goes directly to smoker girl instead. "HELP ME, HELP ME", she demandes hysterically. I told her calmly that I was willing to help, if she told me what she'd like me to do. She told me not to let the soldiers arrest her (?!?!?!?!).

The soldiers pulled up, and asked for her passport. She handed it over and began shrieking unintelligibly. To my utter amazement, the soldier just slammed his door and drove off, without returning her passport. The girl became more hysterical. I asked her if she had gotten the license plate of the Jeep. She said she hadn't. I told her I had. She didn't seem to find this information useful, and resumesfreaking out.

We continued on, and come to a crossroads guarded by an APC and a tank. There is a soldier poking his head out of the top of the turret, which swivels towards us as we approach. The 120mm cannon adjusts, pointing directly at me. I call out "If you're going to kill me, bullets will be enough". I set my bags down slowly, and show empty hands. The two soldiers beside the APC tell us to approach.

Smoker girl launches right into the soldiers hysterically about her passport being taken. They are quite concerned, and professional in their conduct. One soldier gets on his radio. When he finally gets smoker girl to listen for a moment, he tells her the soldiers are on their way back with her passport. She gets more hysterical, convinced she is about to be arrested. She says she'd rather continue on without passport than risk getting arrested. The soldiers tell her that if she has nothing to hide, she has nothing to fear. We try to calm her, to no avail. I give her my cell phone so she can tell someone what has happened, in case she actually does get arrested.

After ten minutes, the jeep returns. Smoker girl goes and talks to them. They completely ignore me. I make small talk with the two soldiers in the meantime. They are professional and cordial, and surprisingly havn't even asked me for my ID. Occasionally I walk over to smoker girl to see how she's making out. She's still hysterical. She's convinced she's about to be arrested. The soldier questioning her is an asshole, but he doesn't seem to have any serious intent towards her. Finally they let her go. She asks me if I want her to wait for me. Glad to be rid of her, I tell her to go while she still can.

As she leaves, she soldier looks at me, and says "What's with her? Why is she so confused?". I reply "Understandably, she thought the worst when you drove off with her passport, without offering any explanation". The soldier asked me if I knew her. I said no, but didn't offer more information. He asks for my passport, and asks the usual questions. I tell him I am a tourist returning from Jenin. He says "What is this, Terrorism tourism?". Although an asshole thing to say, I found it a bit funny, and said "Nope, just tourism", as I chuckled. He seemed to want to pick a verbal fight. I continued to answer his questions, without volunteering much information. He tells me he thinks I am rude, but hands back my passport. He tells me I can't go through Balata (The shorter route for me), and tells me I must follow the West road (An unplanned detour).

I walk, walk, walk, walk. My bags are very heavy. I have to stop every hundred meters and rest for two minutes. My forearms are burning. My ankles feel sore and week from the running the day before. I know I have all day to reach Yasuf, so I figure I'll just take it a step at a time. I have a small compass pinned to my pants with which I repeatedly check my direction.

I call Nader to tell him I'm on my way, but he tells me he's in Ramallah. "Ok", I say, "I'll call you when I get to Ramallah". This throws a bit of a spanner in my works, as the trip to Ramallah is FARRRRRRR. I figure I'll just keep heading south, and hope for the best.

After an hour, I come to some men sitting outside. I am as surprised to see them as they are surprised to see me: No one is venturing outside. I shed my burden, and join them. It's a printshop. I pull out my map and ask them to help me determine where I am. The manager invites me out of the sun into his office. He tells me of the troubles they have been experiecing. Because of the curfew/closure, none of his staff of 20 can go home, and sleep in the office. He tells me that regularly shipments of schoolbooks are waylaid by the Israelis. He tells me that they have invaded his printshop several times, beaten his staff members, and smashed equipment.

He shows me a picture of a young woman. She was killed the day before, and he's been contracted to do a memorial poster for her.
Aparrently 21 year old Samar Saraab was killed by Israeli 50cal fire as she looked out of her window in Nablus. I take a photo of the photo.

The manager gives me some good directions on how to get where I am to Hawara checkpoint, which is the official "exit" from the region. I put on sunscreen, thank him, and resume walking.

I walk, walk, walk, walk, walk walk. I hear a tank coming, and duck into a half-build, abandoned house. It continues on. I continue walking, walking, walking. I'm stopping every-more frequently. My forearms are killing me. My left eye is watering uncontrollably. I come over a hill and see an outpost on the road below. It is right in my path. It looks more like a house that has been occupied and is now flying an Israeli flag, than any kind of official outpost. I shout, and wave my arms, making sure they can see me approaching - I don't want to surprise them. I get no response. It's too far to see if they are actually looking at me. I come closer, stop, shout again. A soldier on a balcony raises his rifle and sights me. I continue walking slowly, giving the outpost a wide berth. I come back onto a dirt road about 200 feet from them. I walk until I am out of sight. My eye is really watering, so I stop and pull out a wet-nap to clean my face. I sit for a bit.

A car drives up the road towards me. It's the first non-military vehicle I've seen all morning. I flag it down. The fellow stops tentatively. I ask him if he's going to Hawara. He nods and tells me to get in. His name is Montessour, and he's a vetrinarian. His English is good. He's the second montessour I've met. I think that's an absolutely beautiful name. He tells me he's been playing cat and mouse with tanks for 40 minutes trying to get out of the area.

Drive 2 KM's to Hawara checkpoint. I tell Montessour to save himself the hassle of the checkpoint, drop me off, and go back. He says he needs me to get through it. I smile, realizing we are helping each other. We continue on to the checkpoint. We are the only people trying to go through it.

It's the usual drill: Stop, show hands, get out, walk forward one by one, show ID. Things are a little more relaxed than normal. One of the soldiers, Moshe, notices that I am Canadian, and strikes up convo with me. He tells me he's got an X girlfriend in Canada he's hung up on. We make chat. He's pleasant and likeable. He's big, muscular, and quite hairy. Black hair, and slightly darker skin. His english is excellent. He asks me how I know montessour. I tell him he just picked me up. He shakes his head at what he thinks is a pretty stupid thing. My bags are checked, and Montessours car is gone through. They ask montessour questions about some of the vetrinary equiment he has. Montessour comments to me that Moshe's Arabic is as good as his English.

It seems dicey, but they let us pass after 10 minutes. 200 feet ahead, is the OTHER side of Hawara checkpoint. The usual drill: Stop, get out, show ID. The soldiers there tell us to go back to the other side, as we havn't been properly cleared. We have no choice but to do as they ask, so we drive back.

When we return, Moshe asks us what we are doing back... we tell him that we were refused. He says "If there's a problem, you should have just told those guys to radio us". It's a reasonable sentiment, but it just doesn't seem proper to tell armed men, "No, it's YOUR mistake, YOU call the other side". Really, theres little option but to obey the soldiers, right or wrong. I reflect that this is the kind of bullshit Palestinians deal with several times a day.

Moshe radios ahead, and clears us. We are waved through the other side of the checkpoint. We drive several kilometers, and encounter several APCs and a jeep blocking the road. The soldiers tell us the area is closed and we can go no further. The soldiers say there is a bomb ahead. I ask what kind of bomb. "The kind that goes BOOM", the soldier answers, laughing. (Granted, my question was kinda stupid).

Montessour convinces them to let us go on to Hawara so he can use the gas station. The soldiers eventually let us pass. He drops me in the middle of town, and tells me that my best chance is to wait there in the hopes a taxi or "service" comes by. I'm just relieved to be out of Nablus region, and don't mind waiting.

The town is completely empty of traffic, pedestrian or vehicular. It looks like the people are taking closure pretty seriously.

I wait for about half an hour, and a taxi comes by "Ramallah?" I ask? The driver nods. "Adaysh?" I ask. "Teleteen Sheckles", the driver replies. 30 Sheckles! That's a bargain at any time. Hell, I would have considered 200 sheckles a bargain to get to Ramallah!

We drive on teeth-shaker roads for about 2 hours (It's about a 20K distance as the crow/Israeli flies). We get near Ramallah, but encounter a traffic jam at a checkpoint. We get out and proceed on foot, catch another cab on the other side of the checkpoint.

Finally I make it to the hotel I usually stay at. I am exhausted, but consider myself "Home free" and am relieved.

I walk into the hotel, and Hans, the manager is speechless at seeing me. The last time in Ramallah, I told him I wouldn't be back. He makes tea, and we sit and chat. He is surprised to hear that I came from Nablus that morning.

He seems quite sad. He is facing some hard decisions in regards to his nationality, his family, and his hotel. He has strong ties in 3 different countries, and has come to a personal crossroads where he must pick a home. I quite like chatting with the fellow, and ask him to let me treat him to dinner. He accepts.

I go to call Nader, but realize I've lost my cell-phone. O well. I call Nader from the hotel. He is surprised to hear from me. Aparrently he didn't expect me in Ramallah until the next day. Aparrently I've made good time. He tells me he's coming to the hotel right away to pick me up.

I am very happy to see him. He tells me there's something he wants to show me. We hop in a cab, and go across town, where we get out and walk. After a 1/2 K walk, we come to a bombed out complex. "This is where I used to work", he tells me. I realized I never knew what his pre-intifada job was. Aparrently he was a translator for the PA. He gives me a tour of the area. It's a cluster of about 5 big buildings. There's signs of shelling and fire damage. It's completely destroyed. Aparrently, one was a PA police station, one a PA police hospital, and one a PA jail. He told me that the Israelis claimed they destroyed the complex because they believed Palestinian militants were being held in the jail. He gives a bittersweet laugh at the idiocy of this. It's a real-headshaker.
I take some photos.

Nader invites me to Ramadan dinner with his brother's family, but I explain I've already got plans. He tells me he'd like to get together, but I am skeptical... I don't figure there's much left in me after my long day. I tell him I'll call him after dinner. I give him a Canadian flag which I had brought along as a gift.

On the way back to the hotel, I see a dog, and walk with it, trying to make friends. Someone calls my name. It's Rushdie, from Dier Istiya. He's the former PA policeman who was arrested and tortured by the Israelis. He's a really good egg, and I am glad to see him. He is very concerned that I seemed angry when I left Deir Istiya. I was pretty worked up when I left, but didn't realize it came across as anger. Mostly I was distraught at the beating of Dawoud. We chatted, traded Emails, parted company. Unfortunately, he was leaving ramallah that night, so we wouldn't get the chance to go out for tea.

I meet Hans, and we go to Stones. On our way to stones we are waylaid by an old friend of his who owns a eurostyle cafe called Kit-Kat. They playfully box each other. Aparrently they go way back and have quite a history together. They mention that the Israelis are gearing up for a re-invasion of Ramallah, which will likely happen in two days.

We dine at Kit-Kat. Bassam sits with us, and he and Hans swap old stories for my benefit... they're both quite the characters. I can tell that Hans is still fairly sad. I have a taybeh, and he has a whiskey. I have another taybeh, and hans has another Whiskey. Hans say's he's tired, so we return to the hotel. We return in a cab. By the time we get there, he can hardly stand. Aparrently the two whiskey's have gone completely to his head. His staff help him to bed and tuck him in.

I try to call Nader as I had promised, but he doesn't answer his phone.

I am exhausted (did I mention that), and go to sleep.

I'm woken up by a call from front desk: "Nader is here". I go down. There's Nader and a friend. I'm pleasantly surprised that they stopped by. He was concerned that he didn't hear from me. I'm very thrilled to see him, and despite my fatigue, we go out for tea and Argila.

We talk of many things. I ask him about how ISM is doing, and he tells me of a recent incident involving my former "team lead" Susan Barney. I havn't spoken of Susan much, which is a shame, as she can't be praised enough. This petite readhead from Boston is 100% Hero. I take great pride in my tirelessness and my tenacity, but Susan posesses these virtues on a whole other order of magnitude.

Aparrently, the week before, she saw a settler preparing to shoot a lone Palestinian, so she charged the settler, wrestled with his M16, and forced him to fire off his rounds into the air above. Fucking incredible.

Ironically, this degree of intervention is WAY outside ISM guidelines, but I credit her with the good sense to know when to break the rules.

He is also helpful on clearing up some points of Palestinian etiquette, which I didn't feel comfortable asking anyone else (Etiquette relating to shorts/pant length, and regarding thanking hospitality with money/gifts).

My eye is still watering. There is crap caked at the side of it. My hands are quite shaking uncontrollably, and it's quite evident when I lift my tea. I must look like complete shit. I apologize, and attribute it to fatigure. Nader doesn't seem concerned.

At 11pm, we say goodnight, and part company. We both know it's likely the last time we'll see each other, but resolve to keep in touch (Which I'm sure we will!).

I go to sleep, but despite my fatigue, can't get to sleep. For some reason, I am rehashing the stupidity of the kids and the tanks. I'm pissed off that the kids had to throw stones, and pissed off that the tanks had to shoot them.

It's been a mother of a long day.

2002-11-18T03:55:00.000-08:00

Nov 15
----------

I wake up late, go outside. I see some Internationals in front of my hotel, where the kids vs tanks fights usually happen. I recognize two of them as ISM newcomers that I met in Jerusalem the week before. I say hi. We catch up. I ask them about what ISM is doing during the invasion. They say mostly keeping track of captive families, and documenting.

I tell them I know of a captive family a short distance away. We go to the house. The soldiers are gone, and the family invites us in to take a look around and talk to them. Approximately 25 people were held captive for 24 hours. Men were separated from ladies. No theft, and property damage was minimal. The father figures the soldiers were using his house to sleep.

This confirms what I have determined to be the methods of the army: They move at night, occupying different houses, and rest during the day.

As an aside, I really feel for these families... they can't expect any swat team rescue, or any assistance of any kind. There are no police or miltary to come to their rescue... they are completely at the mercy of their captors.

Klaus and I finish our interview, and bid the family goodbye. He figures if we stay any longer, they'd invite us to dinner. Hospitality is second nature to the Palestinians, but does not always integrate with our other things-to-do.

As we leave, we hear the locomotive-like rumble of a tank coming down the street. Children everywhere run towards the sound. I run as well. As I come around the corner, I I see a military bulldozer being escorted by two APCs and a tank, about 40 feet away. The bulldozer is a fearsome, intimidating behemoth. Shots ring out, and I immediately hit the ground. I'm the only one, and the crowd of kids and teens continue on. I pick myself up, and continue on, figuring they were warning shots. We are all curious to see where the bulldozer is going - it's appearance means that someone is about to get evicted. Most of the crowd follows at a distance of about 50 feet, but I see that Klaus the ISMer is in front, only about 30 feet away from the "convoy". More shots ring out. Some shots ricochet off of the wall near me. A boy behind me falls, wounded in his leg. The crowd disperses. Klaus and the ISMers continue to follow, and eventually catch a lift with some media vehicles, who are also following. I am determined to see where the bulldozer is going, and follow on foot. The convoy is only going about 15Kph, but I cannot keep up for long, even running. I follow the "tracks", the massive gouges the vehicles leave in the pavement, and follow the rumble of the bulldozer and tank. Sometimes I stop to ask someone "Girafay?" (Bulldozer?), and they point, confirming that I'm on the right path. I follow for about 5 Km, to the other side of the city, and finally give up. Truly, I think the Bulldozer was just passing through, possibly on the way to Qualquilya or Tulkarem.

Although I'm fairly fit, I'm not accustomed to running, and the chase took a lot out of me, so I take a taxi back to the hotel. Abbed shows me some bullet scars on the metal door of the hotel, and shakes his head. I walk to the old city, and see that a few stores have opened up. Without an overt presence of soldiers in the streets during the day, some of the shopkeepers have decided to take the chance to open, and do a bit of business. I decide to search for a keffieh (Traditional palestinian scarf).

I talk to several shopkeepers, but no luck. I see a man wearing one on his head, so I walk up to him, and ask him where he bought it. His English isn't very good, so his friend interprets. They talk, begin laughing, and then the man gives me his keffiyeh. I was speechless... It was not my intent to take his keffieh... I tried to explain I didnt want to take his, I wanted to buy one... but they just laughed, and told me to take it. I followed for roughly a block, but he wouldn't take it back... Finally, I thanked him, and left with the keffieh. I felt quite awful about it, until the next day that I realized that not only was it Palestinian hospitality, but maybe it was a joke to send his keffieh back to Canada in the company of a foreigner. Perhaps similar to the kick I'd get from giving an African tourist a baseball cap. In any case, thinking about it in such terms makes me feel less like I have "taken" from the gracious fellow. Perhaps I need to be more gracious in accepting gifts.

I continue to shop, keeping an eye out for two fellows I'd met the previous day that I'd hoped to talk to more (But didn't have the chance to at the time). On had lost his brother in April, and the other was a computer engineer who'd had his store destroyed. I did not see them.

I eventually find a store with Keffiehs. They are a bargain at 15 sheckles each, so I buy two for gifts. I notice that the of the fellow gave me is of a slightly higher quality.

I got back to my hotel, nap. Around 5pm, I am awoken by the sound of grenades. I go to the dining room, see a tank in the street. Abbed insists I come to the roof with him... As we exit onto the roof, shots ring out right beside us. Abbed and I trip over each other as we panic and run back to the stairwell, but then laugh as we realize the shots were not directed at us, but were on the street below. I grab a seat by the edge of the roof, looking down. He was right to insist on coming up here, as the view is great (Although foolish - I fear I've been a bad influence on him). I see two tanks, and an APC, waiting in the street below my hotel. As far as I can tell, there's no real reason for them to be there, except to draw the inevitable attention of the kids. The kids come, and throw stones, duck back into the alley. This continues, as the tanks sit there. I can't understand what they are waiting for.

Finally, I see a boy approach with a molotov cocktail. He throws it at the tank, and the tank opens fire on the boys. I realize then the nature of the game: The tanks see a molotov as a green light to fire (Perhaps they are constrained by orders), so they give the kids enough time to prepare a molotov, thus giving them carte blanche. Sick.

The kids continue to come out from behind buildings, throw rocks, and then duck back behind the buildings. The tanks continue to fire at them. At least they are firing with .762 (22 cal), as opposed to the 50 cal. I see Klaus from ISM walk briskly through the fray. I swear, I thought I was a crazy motherfucker, but Klaus is a way crazier motherfucker than me. Throughout this skirmish, ambulances come and go. The ambulances drive around the tanks, and into the alley, where they pick up a body. Things were fairly chaotic, but I estimate 4-6 boys are taken away in ambulances.

If I could speak enough arabic, I'd ask these boys why they persist in this stupid game with the tanks, a game they inevitably lose. They throw rocks and bottles, and set fires in the middle of the street... These little protests are irrelevant to the tanks, and only serve to mess up thier own city's streets.

For a moment, I reflect upon the energy and fearlessness of the boys. I wonder if I could somehow devise a tactic to destroy a tank, and teach it to them. My adult-know-how, combined with their youthful courage makes the idea very plausible, but ultimately, it's futile: A destroyed tank would only result in further recriminations against the community.

After the skirmish, Abbed and I retire to our almost-ritual dinner, tea, and argila. As we watch the arabic news, points to the street where the earlier skirmish happened and says "Neen Shaheed" (two dead). Aparrently two boys had died in that very unnecessary incident.

I pull out my map, trying to figure out how I'm going to get out of Nablus tomorrow. I pull out my maglite, and see that Abbed is quite impressed by it. "Beautiful", he says, as he turns it in his hands. I decide that I will give it to him when I go.

Getting out of Nablus will be difficult. There is little vehicular traffic on the streets, and no vehicles are allowed to leave the city. Even once I get out of the city and make it to a main highway, I will be hard pressed for a ride, as tomorrow will be the Jewish Shabbat, and there will be no Jewish busses or vehicles on the road. I see that Yasuf is 10km away. I had promised Nader I'd come back to Yasuf to see him before I left, and this is a great chance to make good on that promise. I can stay the night, and will be in a better position to resume my journey on sunday. Most important is getting out of the Nablus area... the other details will work themselves out.

Come nightfall, you can hear the resumption of Army vehicular traffic, gunfire, and bombings outside. There is less gunfire than the previous night.

I go to bed early, but am soon woken by the sound of yelling outside. I get up, get dressed, and look at Abbed. "Big Problem" he says, and points outside. I ask him to let me out. He unlocks the grill and lets me out the front door. The boys are chanting and yelling. I have no idea what is going on, but am filled with dread. Finally, I am able to get from them that 10 Israelis have been killed in Hebron. "Moustow-taneen? Jaysh?", I ask. (Settlers? Soldiers?). They confirm it is soldiers.

I return to my room and watch CNN. They are reporting that "devout Jewish" worshippers have been killed in Hebron. They mention that Hebron's Jewish community is small, 450, and surrounded by 100,000 Palestinians. Altogether, they paint a very sympathetic picture.

What they don't mention is that the "devout worshippers" killed are actually soldiers. They also don't mention that the small jewish community are actually armed Jewish militants who have transplanted themselves into the middle of an otherwise Palestinian city. They neglect to mention that this well-equipped militia is protected by a generous Israeli military presence. It's interesting to note that that the word "devout" is used, instead of "Fanatatical extremist wacko", which would be closer to the truth.

For more information on the misrepresentation of this ambush of soldiers, see: http://www.csmonitor.com/2002/1118/p06s01-wome.html
http://www.salon.com/news/feature/2002/11/19/hebron/index_np.html

I find it ludicrous to listen to CNN's pining and lying about these soldiers being killed, while I can also hear the Israelis shooting the fuck out of Nablus outside with complete impunity.

Disgusted, I go back to bed. My nerves are becoming increasingly more frayed. I can't wait to get the fuck out of Nablus.

2002-11-17T06:02:00.000-08:00

I'm in Ramallah, but will go to Jerusalem tomorrow. I was hoping to spend a few liesurely days here, but word around town is that the Israeli army is gearing up to re-occupy it (As punishment for the Hebron attack). Generally, I'm in a wind-down mode, and don't expect much more of note before I leave. I will spend my next few days in a combination of journal updates, genuine tourism, and eating (and Argila smoking, of course!).

I'm very relieved to get out of Nablus. Truly, I figure it was only a matter of time before I got shot, either by a stray bullet, or from my own foolishness. I'm not at all scared of being shot by an M-16, provided it isn't in the head, heart, or willy, but the tanks were shooting at everything with 50-cal rounds, which pierce concrete and remove limbs. It was an incredibly nerve wracking time.

I'm going to recap the recent days here. I'm going to give basic details. As mentioned previously, I've made extensive notes which I will incorporate into a later rewrite/edit of these journals.

Nov 11:

Made Entry into Journal, realize it's 3pm already, and I was supposed to call Mahmoud's friend Bilan, who was going to put me up for the night. I call Bilan, and meet him. He is understandably a little annoyed. I apologize profusely. He tells me that Jenin had been reoccupied for 18 days, and only today has curfew been lifted. We attempt to drive to his home, but encounter a tank blocking a road, so we must take the long way around. Bilan informs me he is an engineer with Paltel, the local telco. He tells me that the initial invasion caused a loss of service to 40% of subscribers. Repairs have been continuining constantly, but the re-occupation caused more outages, and now 10% of subscribers have no service. Aparrently the tanks have a penchant for running into power-poles.

As we drive, Bilan points to crushed momuments, crushed sidewalks, and downed poles. "What sin did this thing do?", he asks in frustration.

We arrive at his house. He's obviously fairly well-to do. I realize that there's a rough corelation between English skills and affluence, which is why I seem to end up staying with the well-off Palestinians. The well off Palestinians are roughly middle-middle class by Canadian standards.

His house is on a ridge overlooking Jenin. You can see the massive haze of dust over Jenin. Bilan mentions that this is the result of the constant tank traffic, which has dragged dirt and mud into the city streets. He said when he woke today, he thought it was raining. Aparrently this phenomenon is new to the area.

He showed me where the tanks were positioned in his neighborhood. It appears at least 4 were within close range of his own house. He estimates 100 total were throughout Jenin.

Dinner was very good, salads, combined with the traditional Palestinian rice dish called maccloubi. He is over apologetic about the lack of fresh produce, mentioning that because of the closure, only radishes and potatoes are available.

After dinner, we go to his neighbor's house, where he and his friends conduct their after-dinner ramadan prayers together. His friend, fuad, is completely rich. He lives in a Palace on a hill overlooking Bilan's house. It's massive, even by North American standards. Aparrently he made is fortune working in the gulf. He's well dressed, and well spoken. Fuad's only just got his house back. It was occupied for the last few days by the Israeli military, during which time, Fuad and his family were confined to a bedroom. They were forced to leave the door open, which made it difficult for them to sleep. When the army finally left, they were relieved to see that there was no gratuitous damage, as sometimes happens in such cases (Excrement on walls, smashed furniture). A few items had been stolen, including Jewelry and cologne, and a lot of dirt tracked through the house, but nothing worse.

We eventually go home. I ask Fuad how he will know if there is curfew tomorrow. "There'll be tanks in the street in front of our house", he replies.

The evening was punctuated by a lot of 50-cal fire from the tanks, and jets flying overhead. Fuad says the jets are ok, but it's the Apache's you have to watch out for: The appearance of one means someone's about to die very soon, and you must be very careful of who you stand beside.

All noise aside, I sleep well. It's much quieter than Rafah.

Nov 12
----------

Up 8am. No tanks outside, thus no curfew. The kids are excited, as this will be their first day to go to school in weeks. Fuad is concerned that the kids have missed much school. He is convinced that this is a calculated side-effect to hurt the education of Palestinian children.

Fuad drives me through Jenin, and I am surprised by the Random destruction throughout the city. Nothing that looks like the result of actual attacks, but what I would call military vandalism. It looks someone's blind grandma got likkered up and went for a joyride in a tank, smashing everything in sight. Houses have been backed into, porches ran over, storefronts smashed. There's random damage everywhere. I imagine this is recrimination for the resistance given in Jenin camp.

Fuad drops me off downtown, where I catch a "service" shuttle to the town of Nakura. We take teeth-shaking dirt roads for an hour. We can't go all the way to Nakura, as it has been "closed" by the military. We stop nearby, and proceed on foot. I have an incredibly heavy load by now.

In recent days, I had decided that I could afford to increase me load, as I was on the tail-end of my journey, and likely to be travelling by car. Mahmoud gave me a weighty tome of zionist propaganda (quite a lovely book actually), which he figured would look good to those doing my exit-questioning at Ben Gurious Airport. As well, in Jenin I bought the mother of all Argilas. Total weight, about 15 lbs, in addition to my already 60 lbs.

Some people offer to get me a donkey. I refused, stating "I am a donkey", which amuses them. Finally, I can't make it any farther, and stop for a break. A boy with a donkey comes along, and I realize there is a donkey-shuttle service between Nakura and Nablus. I take advantage of it. We reach Nablus. I pay boy and donkey 10 sheckels, and find a taxi to city center.

I walk, but find no hotel. I flag down a taxi. The driver has limited english, and takes me across Nablus to the most expensive hotel in town, which far exceeds my needs. Finally he takes me back to the Crystal Motel, a block away. I check in, and have tea with the manager. Aparrently the local news reports are saying that the Israeli army will be invading that night, in retaliation to the Kibbutz-murders in another region.

I take a nap, bagged from my hike. I go out at night, expecting many places to be open, but nothing is. Few people are out. A few boys accost me, and one demands money from me. I "locate" a store manage to help "translate", which defuses the situation. Being the well meaning fellow he is, he asks the boys to show me back to my hotel, to make sure I get there safely. They walk me back. I make efforts to appear at ease, but am on guard. I figure having been "tasked" by an adult, they will behave. For kicks, I take them to the convenience store beside my hotel and buy them all cokes. One trys to pay me back. He is quite insistent, and shoves 2 sheckls in my pocket. I think he is guilty for his associate's behavior.

I tell Abbed, the receptionist at the hotel that I was unable to find dinner. He cooks me a small dinner, bless him. There is one other guest at the hotel, Jamal. Jamal is a 25ish retail sales manager in town for a meeting. He is lamenting that he will be stuck if there is an invasion.

I go to sleep. No invasion had yet come.

I awake at 3:30 am to the sound of explosions. Each one consists of a blowgun like "thwup", followed by an explosion 2 seconds later. I guess that this must be tank shelling of the old city, which I guess from the sound of the explosions is several miles away. (I will find out later I was wrong on several counts).

The shelling continues for several hours, at the rate of about one explosion per minute. I guestimated about 150 explosions. I hear no return fire from Palestinians.

Nov 13:
----------

I wake up, see that Jamal and Abbed are up. It is curfew. I want to go on the roof, but Abbed is afraid I'll be shot if I do. I finally convince him to let me go outside. He opens the steel grate which sheilds the glass front doors and lets me out. There is almost no one out. A few children play close to their homes. I see no soldiers, no tanks. I walk towards the direction of the previous night's shelling.

As I pass by some windows, the people wave frantically, point up, and pantomime someone holding a gun. I realize there are Israeli snipers on the roofs. They pantomime me to go back. I acknowlege them, but continue on, wanting to see the results of the earlier night's shelling. I open my hands wide, walk slowly, and scuff my feet, so no one is surprised by me. My balls are in my throat, but I'm determined to press on. I walk walk walk, but see no fresh destruction, only buildings obviously destroyed in the previous invasion in april. I start to see more tanks. I avoid them.

I finally ask someone where the old city is: They point back to where I had come from. I realized that I had acutally walked THROUGH the old city. I am puzzled by the lack of destruction. Going back to the old city, I see many spent concussion and gas grenades on the ground. I realize at this point my mistake from the night before: The tanks hadn't been shelling the old city miles away, they had been grenading the old city, which my hotel was right on the edge of! I had thought the explosions were tank shells far away, but they were concussion grenades only 2 blocks from me!

(For more information on concussion grenades, see: http://www.fas.org/man/dod-101/sys/land/mk3a2.htm. They are aparrently more dangerous than I had initially thought - I had confused them with stun grenades)

As I walk around, I see several tanks and APCS situated around the old city, as well as one fortified position within the old city.
The old city, I eventually determine, is an area of about 3/4 of a square kilometer of densely packed stores and apartments, sandwiched together, and build on top of each other. Narrow alleys run between the stone buildings. My hotel is right on the south edge of the old city.

I keep walking... slowly, with palms open, slowly gaining confidence. I eventually come to an office marked "Union of Palestinian Medical Relief Committees". It is a makeshift field-office for Palestinian medics. I went inside to talk to them, to see if I could help, and to get information.

Most of the medics are Palestinian, although there are two dutch girls as well. They tell me that only one building was actually burned the previous night. It had been attacked by an Apache. There are several burnt out cars in front of the building as well. I offer my help, and am told to shadow a two medics, Ayesha, and Jaril.

They tell me that there had been many home invasions the previous night, and that many families are being held hostage. In some of these situations, it is known that medical attention is required, for people who were already ill.

They take me to one house where the family is being held hostage, and we are going to try to convince the soldiers to release them. Barring that, we want the release of the father, who is dying of cancer. The dutch girls do the negotiations, and about 5 other UMPRC people are with them. A few Palestinians gather with us. We are standing directly beneath a window. They repeatedly state that they know the soldiers are there, and ask them to release the old man. No response is given.

In slow motion, just like the movies, a bright orange grenage tumbles out of the window. Before it's even halfway down, everyone scatters, like cockroaches in the light for either end of the narrow alley. It hits the ground, and a second later, we reach the end of the alley. We wait, wait, wait, but no explosion comes. A few of us approach it cautiously. As we get closer, I can see it is a concussion grenade. I wonder why it hasn't gone off. I see that although the pin has been pulled, the spring loaded lever hasn't released. Bending over to look at it, I see something incredible: The lever is TAPED to the grenade with a strip of electrical tape. All I can guess is that the soldier had used the tape to fasten it to his flak jacket, but the tape didn't come off completely when he yanked it off of himself. As I looked, a Pal of about 25 runs by, scoops up the grenade, and runs off with it. Well, it appears the Palestinian military is slowly arming itself!

We decide to leave. As we turn the corner, we hear an enormous explsion, and gunfire behind us, from the alley we were just in. Aparrently the soldier had thrown another concussion grenade into the alley and then followed up with gunfire. I don't know if the shots were intended to hurt or scare, but I do know that in the narrow alley, the concussion grenade definitely would have cause some headaches, bloody noses, and loss of hearing if it had gone off.

The UPMRCers say there's nothing I can really do to help, although they do inform me that a mass-invasion of infantry is expected in the night. I decide to go back to hotel and rejoin them in eve.

I return to hotel, Abbed makes me dinner, I shower. Nightfall comes. I havn't heard from Jaril or Ayesha, so I decide to go to the UPMRC office myself. I walk down the middle of the roads, stay in the light, and scuff my feet. My hands are open, and slightly away from my sides. I walk slowly. I eventually make it to the field hospital. J and A are not there. One of the nurses asks me if I know Jeremy from Canada. I tell him no, and proceed to ask him if he knows Mohammed from Palestine. He gets the joke, laughs heartily, and we chat. A doctor introduces himself to me. I ask what I can do to help. He tells me that presently the field hospital is overcrowded, but will call the hotel if he needs help. He proceeds to arrange for an escort back to my hotel. I tell him I don't want to waste a minute of his people's time, and that if I made it there, I can make it back. He tells me he fears for me, and wants me to call him when I arrive safely, not only to ease his mind, but also to inform him of soldier/tank sightings.

I return to hotel, having seen not a single tank or soldier. I call doctor, let him know so.

Abbed and I are alone in the hotel now. We watch TV, drink TV, and smoke from my new Argila. His English is limited, but we manage to communicate. We watch CNN. He waves his hand dismissively at the TV, and exclaims "Osama, Saddam, Osama, Saddam, Osama, Saddam!!", commenting on the monothematicness of the news.

No one calls, I go to bed early. Late in the night, there is the sound of grenades and gunfire (both 50-cal, and M-16).

Nov 14
----------

Awake with a start at 9am, to the sound of explosions outside. I jump up, get dressed, and run to the dining room window. Abbed is already there. We see a tank driving up the street, being pelted by stones from either side. It continues on, circles back for another pass. More stones, more concussion grenades. It goes, comes back again. It occurs to me it's just playing with the kids: There's no need for the tank to be in this street, and definitely no need for it to keep circling back.

As it comes close again, one of the boys throws a molotov cocktail at it. Seconds later, the tank opens fire at them with the 50-cal cannon. It sounds like a jackhammer, but louder. Trees fall, and concrete explodes. Expecting a bloodbath, I gasp and wince, but somehow, the children appear to escape ok. The tank mounted 50 cal is truly a fearsome weapon. I am outraged that it has been used against the rock-throwing kids. God knows, the .762mm (.22) would have sufficed. Truly, no retaliation was even necessary... A rock can do no more damage to a tank than a flea can to an Elephant.

I hear an ambulance coming, and see media showing up. I persuade Abbed to let me outside. Aparrently, someone WAS hit. It was a boy on the opposite side of the street raked by 50-Cal. Aparrently a tail-gunner shot him while he watched the other kids run for cover across the street. An ambulance came, but he was dead on the spot.

His name was Jalal, and he was 17. He was buried in the cemetary across the street from my hotel. Ironically, he was born, lived, was killed, had his funeral, and was buried, all within one city block.

I saw Jaril and Ayesha. They asked me to come with them to talk to some soldiers who had occupied some houses and were keeping some families hostage. We went to the first house. They wanted me to talk, as they speak little English. As I spoke, I saw a snake-camera poke out of the 3rd floor window. Other than that, we got no other response. Not even the courtesy of a concussion grenade.

We proceeded to the next building. It was an apartment building, the top two floors of which had been occupied, with an estimated 25 people hostage. Ayesha Jimmied the front door open, and motioned me to go in and speak to the soldiers. "HUH??!?!?!!". I didn't know what else to do, so I went in. I slowly climbed the stairs, shouting "I'm unarmed, I am a Canadian, and I want to speak to you". A soldier on the 3rd floor shouted "wait". He eventually produced an officer (Lt) who came out to speak to me. I called Jaril and Ayesha up. They asked how many children hostage (12 he replied), and if anyone needed immediate medical attention. He said no. They told him a doctor was en-route, and asked him to wait. He insisted that no one was going inside.

The officer was very casual in his movement around me, which was quite a contrast to the outright FEAR present in the other invading soldiers. He even walked right in front of me at one point, with his back to me. It ocurred to me that if I had a garrotte, I could have easily killed him, for what little good that would have done.

Doctor Ghassan finally came, but the officer still wouldn't let him up to see the hostages. The soldier said he could pass on any medicine necessary. Ghassan insisted that before medicine was given, he must be able to make diagnosis, but the soldier was firm. I noticed the officer looked exhausted. Ghassan gave the officer some basic cough medicines, and written instructions to take up. The officer told us he'd only be occupying the house for another 12 hours. He told us to leave, and eventually raised his gun: a sufficiently convincing arguement.

We went back down the hill, where Jalal's funeral had begun, only a hundred feet from where he was shot.

I saw his mother crying. I felt angry. I wondered why she didn't keep him inside. I wondered why the other boys parents didn't keep them inside. I wondered how the Israeli army felt justified in firing on kids with tanks.

Several times the funeral was interrupted by Tanks coming up the street, causing everyone to run for cover. This seemed a bit gratuitous, as normally there is little tank movement during the days.

As the body was lowered, I saw Ayesha suddenly dash up the hill. I ran after her. One of the tanks that had been at the funeral had gone up the hill and shot someone on the street during the funeral. I don't know the circumstances, and was unable to find out. As I saw him loaded into the ambulance, I looked down the hill and saw a fire in the old city. I left, and started to walk towards it. It appeared all hell was breaking loose.

I realized that I would have to leave Nablus soon, or risk being killed. As well, I really wasn't sure what good I was doing there. I feel very impotent against what is going on here. I only feel better when I remind myself that I am only hear to bear witness.

It's interesting to note that this whole time, I havn't heard a single instance of return gunfire, or any other kind of resistance.

I returned to the hotel just before sunset, when fast ends. Soon, the Imam's voice emanated from the Mosque, declaring end of fast. The children scurry inside for dinner, and night falls. Immediately after this, there are massive movements of armour on the streets. APC's and tanks move through the city, and take up new positions. As this is the Muslim's only meal of the day during Ramadan, there's really no better time to redeploy troops and armour. Soon after, explosions and gunfire could be heard. I assume these were the sounds of the soldiers forcibly occupying new houses, and taking new hostages.

Abbed and I had dinner, tea, and Sheesha. We seem to be developing some odd kind of roomate relationship.

All of the gunfire, the explosions, are seeming increasingly "Normal" to me. I find this very disturbing. I resolved to get out of Nablus, any which way.

2002-11-16T07:22:00.000-08:00

I am safe, and in Ramallah. Nablus is completely closed, so I had to hike out. Eventually got to Ramallah. Am exhausted.

Will give more thorough updates tomorrow.

2002-11-13T11:13:00.000-08:00

Dan is in Nablus, The city is under siege. The Iraelies have invaded the city and are lobbing grenades.
50-60 Tanks are in the area. This is a full scale invasion. The soldiers are going house to house in a
home invation style. Dan is safe an is going to remain put untill he can safely leave and get to Jenin.
Dan has not seen any retaliation from the palestinians.

-Jason

2002-11-11T05:02:00.000-08:00

Well, I met an international in the cafe here who showed me the way to Jenin Camp. It's quite a mess... destruction EVERYWHERE. I didn't cry, but did get a lump in my throat. A lot of cleanup has been done, but there are still scores of half-buildings that are uninhabitable and will have to be removed.

The area spanned about 4 Calgary-sized city blocks at the epicenter, and branched out in various directions from there.

It's just an incredibly sickening, heartbreaking mess. Bankrolled by Uncle Sam, and executed by proud Israeli soldiers.

There is much graffiti around.. .it reads "Sharon is the son of hitler", "Sharon, you made your grave here", "Sharon, we will only get stronger","Israeli murderers out of Jenin".

A few children asked to have their pictures taken. I incorporated them into the foreground of my shots.

A few asked for food.

A boy of 4, perched on some rubble tried to throw some stones at me, but couldn't make the distance.

A few people say hi to me as I walk through ground zero... They're used to seeing internationals here involved in cleanup/aid efforts in the last few months.

2002-11-11T00:50:00.000-08:00

Well, I'm in Jenin city now, which is adjacent to Jenin Camp where the destruction took place. Jenin is incredibly dusty.

It's been an eventful 24 hours.

I left Ramallah yesterday for Kalandia checpoint (aka Qalandya, Calandia, etc), where I expected to find a ride to Nablus. I was unable to find a "service" (shared shuttle-taxi) to Nablus, so had to hire a charter taxi for $45 US. As we left kalandia, I saw a woman and her mother descending a 50 foot high embankment towards the road. It was steeper than I would even CONSIDER coming down, and I'm typically foolhardy. We waited to make sure they got down safely, but there was nothing we could do to help. The driver explained to me that they had to circumvent the checkpoint this way because they had no papers, and risked being arrested if caught. Many Pals lack papers, or have had them confiscated for a variety of reasons. Once gone, there's no way to replace them. It's incredibly police-state.

We passed through several checkpoints on our trip. As the driver had Yellow plates, it was generally clear sailing. At one checkpoint, our papers were demanded and we were made to wait. It's amazing how powerless you feel in these situations. What's really sick, is I felt a small degree of gratitude to the soldier when he let us through.

We passed another taxi pulled over at the side of the road. Passengers and driver stood beside the vehicle, while an APC was parked 20 feet away, with top-mounted machine guns trained at the occupants.

At one checkpoint near Nablus, he was not allowed to proceed, so he dropped me off, with instructions to proceed on foot until I found another taxi. As he dropped me off, the Israeli soldier at the checkpoint asked me how much I paid to get there, and why I did not take an Israeli bus. At that point, it occurred to me that optimal travel could be done using a mixture of Israeli bus for the main roads, Yello plate (Israeli) taxi for the medium range travel, and green plate (Palestinian) taxi for the backroads. Unfortunately, one has to be familiar with the intersection points of the three networks to make it all work. This is also a luxury only available to me, as my passport allows me to travel (mostly) freely between Israeli and Palestinian space. Unfortunately, I don't know the networks well enough to take advantage, so I am mostly reliant on Services and charter taxis.

A taxi soon picked me up, and we went to Nablus. Nablus is about halfway between Ramallah and Jenin. There was much destruction of large buildings in strike. The taxi driver pointed at a building caved in on itself, pantomimed a rocket coming from the air, and said "F-16". The devestation is pretty incredible. He dropped me off at a Taxi stand, and help me arrange a cab to get me to closer to Jening. As Jenin is "Mamnewak" (Closed), there were no vehicles going directly there.

My taxi took me about 3 KM along a rubble-strewn and unevemn dirt road, until it could go no farther. He dropped me off, and motioned that I follow the people walking along the road. I knew there would likely be another taxi stand at the end of the road once it became passable. It was about 1:30.

I walked with a couple of nursing students, two brothers. We walked for about a KM. My total luggage, with water (I'm obsessive about carrying water), is about 40 KG now. They insisted on helping me with my bags, so I let them take one of the lighter ones. Despite all of the exercise and healthy (Although many skipped meals) eating, I'm still chubby.

We walked for a ways, came around a corner, where a group of people were sitting. I assumed they were waiting for a taxi to come along. The older brother, Hassam, whispered "soldiers", and motioned for me to get down. I scanned the hills in front of me, but could not see them. He motioned sharply to my right, and SHIT, there was a Merkava II tank, about 30 feet away from us, machine guns and turret trained on us. Merkava II is the bigger brother of the Merkava.

I slowly dropped my bags, and sat, as Hassam instructed me to. The soldiers shouted a command. One by one, the Pals stood, raised their shirts, and turned, to show they were not strapped with explosives. Suddenly, from the brush to the left, three Israeli soldiers emerged, guns pointed at us. They again asked us to raise our shirts. They instructed us, one by one, to empty our bags. I had the most luggage, and it took about 15 minutes to go through all 3. I took each item out slowly, one by one, and identified it to them verbally. I pulled out a beer that I had bought in Ramallah but never drank, and tried to show it to the Israelis discreetly, so as not to offend my companions. The Israelis couldn't see it from 10 feet away, so I showed it in full. "Beer". I apologized to the ~12 Palestinians, and they chuckled and told me it was ok. They demanded papers from all of us. I provided my passport.

The soldiers made us sit for 10 minutes without explanation, then motioned for us to move. We moved about 1/4 kilometer, where we were told to sit again. I called my brother, and began to explain the situation, thinking it may be interpreted as a more formal contact. After 5 minutes, the soldier demanded I put my phone away. I told him I was calling my consulate. He told me if I did not put the phone away, he would shoot me. He was professional, but firm. I demanded "why". He said he "had his reasons". I put my phone away.

After 10 minutes, we were again told to move. We came over a crest, and saw a much larger group of about 60palestinians all sitting, equally spaced apart, in a clearing beside a dirt road - I imagine a different section of the road we had come from. We were told to sit with them. The tank from before had moved slightly, and was looking down on this group, with weaponry pointed. I imagine this was the insurance plan for the 3 soldiers who could potentially be overwhelmed by the crowd. Clever.

The ladies and children were sitting separate from the men, in a cluster about 30 feet away.

We sat, we sat, we sat. It was burning hot out, but the Pals don't drink water during the day, as it is Ramadan. Exceptions can be made for medical emergencies, but it was not there yet. The soldiers called me over to them, and an officer asked me questions, about my purpose, origin, and destination. I answered all of their questions truthfully. The officer asked me how long I'd been in "Israel". I told him I had been in Israel for one day, but the West Bank for one month. He was very ugly (visually offensive even), and his English was atrocious. I preferred to speak to his subordinate, the one who told me to turn off my mobile, but whose english was better.

The soldiers would not answer questions about why we were being held, or how long we would be held for.

I was sent back to sit. We sat, we sat, we sat. I got to know the people around me a little. There was Hillel the accounting student, and Mahmoud, who had spent some time in canada and the US. "The Israelis just want to show who is boss", Hillel remarked. I told him that "The Israelis want to show who's our daddy". He liked the saying, and repeated it on tape for me. The recording is hilarious.

Hear it here: http://www.memeticcandiru.com/~palmon/sounds/DW_A0167.wav

Despite the instructions to sit, one man keep pacing. He was 40ish, wearing black jeans, black tishirt, and sunglasses. His pacing took him increasingly farther away. The soldiers shouted at him. He shrugged, returned, and sat. He radiated both arrogance and defiance. I asked people around me who he was. Nobody knew him but they agreed that he was crazy.

Mahmoud told me that the day before he had seen a doctor killed in the same area for annoying the soldiers.

Hear him relate it in person: http://www.memeticcandiru.com/~palmon/sounds/DW_A0170.wav

As more people came up the hill, they were "ensnared" by the Israelis. At gunpoint, they raised their shirts. To my amusement, I saw that even the skinny guys were being made to life their shirts... One guy didn't even have room to hide a firecracker. These new additions were directed to come sit with us.

After some time, the soldiers called me back again. They told me they would get me a ride back to Nablus, I asked them if the others would be returning with me. They said no. I asked what they had done, and the soldiers said they were checking IDs for wanted me (I later learned that the only IDs requested were the 10 from my initial group). They told me I was free to go, either on, or back to Nablus. I told them I wanted to go on, but didn't know the way. The soldiers said I could take 1 man with me as a guide. I didn't want to leave the Pals, but saw my chance to maybe take someone with a significant need (medical?) to proceed. As I went back to the Pals, the soldier shouted "I pick the man". I asked him "who?" The man he chose was a well-dressed pharmaceutical salesman who looked like the least in need. I told the soldier I elected to stay with the pals as long as they were detained. He shrugged.

The Palestininians were both surprised and pleased with my decision to stay with them. Really, it was a no-brainer.

We sat, and sat, and sat. Water was requested for a baby who wasn't faring well in the heat. A soldier provided it to him. There were other children (Who aren't bound by Ramadan fast), so I took a water bottle over to the women and children. The soldiers were obviously displeased, but I ignored them. I walked very slowly with open hands so as not to spook them.

Eventually, it cooled off to about 15 degrees C, as the sun started to go down. There was a call for a blanket for a baby. A pal gave his jacket, but I also carried over my ranger blanket to them. I didn't ask the soldiers, but lifted it slowly, and shook it out before them so they could see I hid nothing.

The "Crazy" man had somehow obtained some petrol, and started a campfire with a big "Whooosh!" The soldiers shouted at him. Other Pals lit a few small fires among them. Eventually a campfire was established among the ladies. The soldiers didn't like it, but you could tell the people's frustration was growing.

On a couple of occasions, people could be seen taking a detour on the horizon to avoid being detailed. The soldiers took off in pursuit, but being loaded with gear, couldn't catch them.

A Palestinian stood up, and asked why we were being detained. The soldier told him that we would eventually be let go, and that we should be thankful they didn't kill us.

It got colder and colder as the sun got low. It was about 4:30. We were told nothing about why we were kept, or how long we'd be.

Mahmoud told me that the previous day they'd been kept until 9pm. He told me if this happened, I could stay the night with him, and continue on to Jenin in the morn.

A old man (50ish) came up the road carrying several bottles of water on his back. The soldier did not want him to distribute the water. He got in a shouting match with them. He demanded to know why the people were being kept. The soldier said "If they don't want this to happen, they should use the checkpoint in the valley below.

Soon after this, the sun went completely down, which means the breaking of the fast. I had another unused 2 litre bottle of water. There wasn't enough water for all the men (I'd already given the other bottle to the women), but someone suggested it be distributed from oldest to youngest. Hillel walked around with the bottle. A few people broke out pita they had been carrying, and shared it around the people sitting. I realized I had a .5 KG of mix nuts I'd bought in Ramallah, and circulated throught the crowd, giving a little to all.

A woman asked me what I thought of this incident. I replied "Terrible". "Terrible? Is that all?", she asked. I replied "Well, in Canada, we would call this 'fucking bullshit'." She surprised me by saying "Perhaps, but those are impolite words to use". Talk about hard to please!

Soon, the soldiers told us we could go. Everyone hastened to leave before the soldiers changed their mind. Mahmoud and I followed last up the road, making sure everyone made it ok. We walked for about 2 KM. It was quite dark. At one point, I could tell we were walking through piles of relatively fresh trash, and I asked Mahmoud how it go there. He told me that the settlers dump their garbage on the Palestinian pathways. Not out of expediency, but because they are Palestinian pathways.

We eventually reached a road, grabbed a "service" taxi. We travelled for several KM. Someone along the road informed us there was a checkpoint ahead. We waited 15 minutes, then continued. We didn't see a checkpoint, but at one point, as we were driving along the road, an Israeli APC suddenly turned on it's floodlights, and lurched halfway onto the road ahead of us. "Go, but slowly", mahmoud instructed the driver in arabic. I recalled that many people are killed on Palestinian roads just because they didn't hear a command to stop. I was quite concerned, but we went around the APC without incident.

"This is all for nothing," Mahmoud commented. "These checkpoints stop nobody. If I decide to 'bomb myself' tonight, I will be in Tel Aviv tomorrow".

A few KM later, we reached Mahmoud's house, and had dinner. It was a much welcome oasis of peace after the anxious day. He has a wonderful family, and a very nice house. Not only is he lucky enough to have a job, but he works as a technical manager for a local utility. He's better off than most Palestinians.

This is a day in the life of Palestinians.

Mahmoud was an excellent host, and his company raised my spirits immensely. He also told me that he thinks my presence today helped relieve a bit of the tension among the Palestinians. This also raises my spirits. I was pretty down, but am feeling better now.

Mahmoud's english is very good, he has an active mind, and we had great conversation.

His eldest boy, 8 yrs, asked why he was late for dinner. He told him he was kept at work. He does his best to shield his children from the occupation. He told me he does not want his boys to grow up full of hate, and willing to do something stupid that may cost their lives. He tells me that to this very day, Jewish schoolchildren are still taught to hate Palestinians.

He has several Jewish friends in Israel, which he has maintained from before the intifada. I've see this many times, Palestinians having good relations with Israeli civilians. This bridge is pleasing, but it seems to both governments have a vested interest in driving a wedge between the two peoples.

He also told me that during the "Oslo" years in the 90's, Arafat zealously policed palestine, arresting many hamas members and preventing their ability to operate. Despite this, Israel followed through with very few of it's own comittments. Arafat had nothing to show for all of the arrests made, and ultimately was viewed as a quasi-collaborator by many. He says that Arafat had a role in the genesis of the current uprising (intifada), in an effort to restore his own credibility and negotiating power. He says that Arafat and Sharon played a dual role in sparking the intifada: "Sharon poured the gas, and Arafat lit the match".]

He also mentioned that the various checks and checkpoints in the regions were more for harassment than for security. "If anyone in the region was going to do something stupid, they already would have done it. If anyone was wanted, they already would have been arrested. The people left, the people lining up at the checkpoints, are those who don't belong to any groups or have any criminal record".

He believes that the military is putting more pressure on people with the purpose of creating more retaliation, and thus justifying further land grabs/killing. I've also held this belief for some time.

I asked him why he hadn't taken the proper checkpoint, as the soldier said they should have. He told us that at the checkpoint, the soldiers make them wait unnecessarily, publicly strip search them, and make them engage in acts of self-humiliation. I appaud mahmoud for having the courage to tell me what happened to him: He was forced at gunpoint to pick up his passport off the ground with his mouth.

http://www.memeticcandiru.com/~palmon/sounds/DW_A0175.wav

Ultimately, he says, they're better off taking their chances in the backroads.

Mahmoud called a close friend of his in Jenin. His friend told him that the Army had left Jenin yesterday, and that there would be no curfew today.

Just another day in the life of a Palestinian.

BTW, Jason, my hostname is about to expire... could you pls re-lease it for me?

2002-11-10T00:40:00.000-08:00

Just popping into the Internet cafe before I head to Jenin. It's rememberance day today. I don't think it's recognized here, but I'll take my own moment of silence at 11:11.

Curfew last night was uneventful... the whole city shut down at 6pm... by 6:30, it was dead as a doorknob... but the Israelis never came around to announce "Mamnewk tajowl!" (Forbidden to be outside!). So around 8pm, everyone started to come out again... shops re-opened.

Went to stones, had a Taybeh (beer) and a Sheesha (pipe). Met a fellow named Ashrav who hasn't seen his family in 1.5 years. He's unable to make the journey to Qalqilya for fear of being arrested at one of the many checkpoints in between. Qalqilya is about 40 KM from Ramallah. I didn't bother asking what his crime was... he need not be a militant. Being out of your own villiage without a pass is enough. Often, that's not even necessary to arrest anyone.

I see on the CNN news last night at "..An Israeli soldier died"... I find it amazing that many people are killed here every day, however, it only gets reported when an Israeli dies. Talk about unbalanced reporting.

Anyhow, off to Qalandia checkpoint->Ar Ram->Nablus->Jenin.

For a rememberance day link, I'd like to leave the Lyrics to Eric Bogle's "Green fields of France", a song both beautiful and sad: http://phobos.astro.uwo.ca/~sshorlin/altgreen.html

It's worth a read.

2002-11-09T06:02:00.000-08:00

I'm in Ramallah now. I've got a couple of hours to kill before Curfew, which I probably won't obey anways.

In regards to the request to tape more people: It's hard, for several reasons. Not only do you not know when someone is going to say something brilliant, it's often difficult to get them to repeat it. As well, most opinions here are likely objectionable to either the Israeli government of PA, and people are hesitant to go on record with them. Last but not least, Breaking out the recorder puts a sort of a "formal" tone on otherwise relaxed and amiable conversations. The best I can do is to remember what I can, and take note soon after...

I've stocked up on cash at the local HSCB, and am ready to continue on to Jenin. People I talked to were skeptical I could get to Jenin, short of going to Israel, taking Israeli transportation, going AROUND the west bank and then re-entering the West Bank in the north side. Aparrently it would be easier for me to go around the entire West Bank, a 400 KM trip, than to travel 70 KM within it. Imagine that.

It sounds pretty screwed up, but it's something the people here deal with every day: Massive detours due to the myriad checkpoints, closures, and roadblocks that chop the West Bank into many closed areas.

My hotel manager thinks that if I can get to Nablus, I should be able to get a "service" (Shared taxi-shuttle) to Jenin. There's a bit of doubt, as Nablus is presently under full curfew, and has a full Israeli military presence. Hopefully my CDN passport will get me through. I think it's worth the attempt... I don't really want to take the expensive and long route for a Journey that should be short and cheap..... Although this is what most Pals do on a daily basis, just to get to and from work.

Incidentally, the other day, going from Gaza City to Rafah, the checkpoint was abandoned, meaning we could go right through. This was aparrently because it was early afternoon, after people had gone to work/school, and before people come back. Thus, it occurs to me: If these checkpoints are for security purposes, as claimed, why are some only manned part time? The answer, in fact, is that they are not for security purposes, the are to restrict the flow of people. This is why they are only operational during "rush hour". Achmed, my host in Rafah, gets up at 5am each morning, so he can get to University in Gaza city. If he leaves after 6, he may have to wait to clear the checkpoint.

When I left Rafah for Gaza city, around 11am, the checkpoint was manned... Thankfully the morning rush was over and it only took me about 20 minutes to get through.

It is incredibly frustrating how restricted travel is here... And the most frustrating thing is that the whole thing is quite insecure, making the justification of security completely ludicrous. If anyone was truly determined to get through, and do damage to Israel, it would take little effort. I think the checkpoint system deserves little credit for increased security for Israel. To the contrary in fact, it has added greatly to the atmosphere of frustration and impotence which causes suicide bombings.

Anyhow, I'm hoping to make it all of the way to Jenin tomorrow, to see the unjustified destruction there. Not only did the Israelis indiscriminately kill scores and wound hundreds, they rendered thousands homeless, and destroyed much civilian infrastrucutre. In total, about 1/4 of the city was razed to the ground by armoured Israeli bulldozers. I've seen a few of these... they are formidable, massive armoured machines. It's hard to imagine anything able to resist them. They are as visually intimidating as a tank.

In the words of Human rights watch, it was "Disproportionate and unnecessary". To say the least.

A UN chief calls the destruction horrific beyond belief: http://www.news24.com/News24/World/0,1113,2-10_1169984,00.html

Here's a top-view representation of the destruction of Jenin:
http://www.hrw.org/press/2002/05/jeninmap0503.htm

Here's a first hand-account of one of the Israeli bulldozer drivers. It's an absolutely pathetic and disgusting account of what happens when you give a lifetime loser a bulldozer and free reign to destroy: http://www.gush-shalom.org/archives/kurdi_eng.html

Here are a few pictures of the aftermath of Jenin devestation. Although most are of people amidst the rubble, some are of actual dead. Consider yourselves forewarned. Many of the pictures I found I don't even consider decent to post.

http://www.palestinechronicle.com/article.php?story=20020418001054171

http://www.palestinechronicle.com/article.php?story=20020414053119837

http://www.palestinechronicle.com/article.php?story=20020429043239578

http://www.palestinechronicle.com/article.php?story=20020418000849344

http://www.palestinechronicle.com/article.php?story=20020429042259743

http://www.palestinechronicle.com/article.php?story=20020621054854126

http://www.palestinechronicle.com/article.php?story=20020429042737938

http://www.palestinechronicle.com/article.php?story=20020621060027670

http://www.palestinechronicle.com/article.php?story=20020621055631629

http://www.wclac.org/arabic/stories/jenin/gallery/index_2.htm

http://www.aljazeerah.info/myweb2/Sections/jenin_refugee_camp_massacre.htm

http://arajap.dynu.com/palestine/photo/jenin/Jenin_galary.htm

A tragedy of massive scale took place in Jenin. The initial outage faded amidst Israeli denials, obfuscation, and lies. The massacre of Jenin was soon forgotten. as the public's interest had shifted to other matters. The occupation and destruction of Jenin continues to this day.

2002-11-09T01:54:00.000-08:00

Just about to head off to Ramallah. I remembered a couple of addendums to yesterday's entry:

When I met the Xtian NGO workers on my way out of Gaza city, I asked them if perhaps THEY could solve the mystery of the many soldiers/policemen for me, soldiers that I couldn't perceive the function of.

Aparrently there are so many soldiers because all of their police stations have been destroyed in airstrikes. There's little military sense to this, as this is a very lightly-armed force, whose main job is to police the Gazan population, and curb the power of Hamas.
With the power of the police force compromised, it makes it easier for Hamas to operate, which I hypothesize is just what Ariel Sharon wants: More reasons to expropriate land and extend his control.

As we left Gaza city to the Eres checkpoint (border), one of the Christians showed me a large expanse of dirt fields. He told me that the week before, it had been hundreds of Citrus trees. I had heard about this destruction last week. It was a yet another disgusting example of senseless, unnecessary destruction by the Israeli army.

From Eres, I had the option to take a cab directly to Jerusalem ($40 US), or for $15, go to the local Jewish town of Ashkelon. I opted for Ashkelon, thinking I could perhaps have a few days rest there in civilization. It was unfortunately a little too expensive for me, so I grabbed a bus for $4 to Jerusalem. I was surprised that I got on the Bus with no checking of my bags whatsoever.

Anyhow, to close, here's today's ISM update:

INTERNATIONAL SOLIDARITY MOVEMENT (ISM)

Thursday, November 7, 2002
For Immediate Release

ISRAELI TANK SHOOTS BOY IN ASKAR REFUGEE CAMP

[New Askar Camp, NABLUS] Rashad Al-Tik, 12 years old was just shot in the back by one of the Israeli tanks surrounding the New Askar refugee camp. Two international civilians in New Askar, Almarie Calvert (US) and Allison Keefe (UK), report the boy was playing in a nearby field when the tank opened fire. Almarie, who was immediately on the scene reports -- a bullet through the boy's back and blood everywhere. "I was right beside the father as he carried his son to a nearby taxi. Blood was trailing us. The boy was groaning and loosing consciousness. I don't know how anybody can survive losing that much blood." Rashad was still alive as he was being transported to Al-Ittihad Hospital in Nablus.

The Israeli military has been trying to violently impose a curfew since early this morning, rumbling their tanks through the city, randomly shooting, setting up roadblocks and firing tear gas and sound grenades at large groups of unarmed people, including school children.

Pictures will be posted to www.jerusalem.indymedia.org within the hour.

2002-11-08T10:38:00.000-08:00

Well, I'm back in Jerusalem, staying in a hostel overnight, leaving for Ramallah tomorrow. I'm running shot on money, and Ramallah has the only bank I've found that will allow me to access my money in Canada. I have a Savings account, and unfortunately, most bank machines here default to "Checking account" without asking.

On my way out of Gaza today I met a couple of Christian NGO workers who have been teaching Pal children for 2 years now. We were chatting. "I hear the screw is tightening on Nablus again", I remarked, commenting on the re-occupation of Nablus city a few days ago.

One of the teachers replied insightfully: "It's always tightening, isn't it? Negotiations aren't even about removing the screw any more, they're about loosening it for a few days. " They estimate that in their two years teaching in Gaza city, they've been through 40 Israeli airstrikes/bombings. "It's really no big deal anymore. If you make yourself flat to the ground, you're safe from the shrapnel," the teacher told me helpfully, "The ground is your friend".

Aparrently the day before I got to Rafah/Khan Younis, the Israeli Army shot and killed a retarded boy who had the habit of wandering close to the fence. Many times, the Palestinians had warned the army about the retarded boy and his lack of understanding about "off-limits". Aparrently the army killed him with full knowlege of who he was, not because he had shown any hostile intent, but because he had wandered to close to a checkpoint. There's a quick summary at : http://www.palestinemonitor.org/updates/update_cover.htm

As Achmed, Essam, and I walked home from the Internet cafe last night, we noticed many Israeli "lighting flares" to the NW side of Rafah, suggesting some kind of excitement there. As we went to sleep, a great boom came from the same area, bigger than those I'd heard sofar. I looked at Achmed Quizzically. "Tank, he said".

Rafah was emotionally exhausting. The people there are in very rough shape, and it hurt my eyes and heart to see. Some are doing ok, but it's obviously incredibly poor, has little infrastructure, and is suffering high attrition. This was Rafah city - I didn't even go to Rafah camp, which is aparrently 10 times worse.

Reading ISM reports, I see that my former ISM teammates, Charlotte (Ireland) and Susan (Boston) are in Nablus city, trying to soften the blow of the increased military presence there. Most of the others have left, as they only signed up for a two week stint. It's rather ironic, as one of the reasons I left was to get a view of the occupation from an urban perspective. It looks like I prematurely abandoned a front row seat. I can't imagine how burnt out they are. They are both two of the toughest people from the whole group. Susan has been here for months, and was burnt out long before any of us got here. I saw her the night I left, and it was obvious she had "crashed" emotionally and physically. Somehow, she's still going... Amazing chick.

I am emotionally exhausted, and miss home very much. I want to come home, but I feel it necessary to see Jenin (City half bulldozed) and Qalqilya (Site of the new "wall") before I can leave.

For what it's worth, Amnesty has just published a report accusing Israel of war crimes in the West Bank: http://www.alertnet.org/thenews/newsdesk/L03161607

The original report can be found at: http://web.amnesty.org/ai.nsf/Index/MDE151432002?OpenDocument&of=COUNTRIES\ISRAEL/OCCUPIED+TERRITORIES

So tired....

2002-11-07T09:36:00.000-08:00

Well, I'm in Rafah, at a small internet cafe. It's quite poor here. It's quite a scary place, as well. It's right on the edge of the Gaza strip, next to the Israeli controlled border with Egypt. 100,000 people packed into about 9 square kilometers (3Kmx3Km). People, agriculture, and livestock coexist in very close quarters.

Rafah is surrounded by four Israeli settlements. Between the border, and the settlements, it's quite hemmed in. It's also taking fire from all sides at all times. There are usually a couple of gunshots heard each hour, well into the night. Most are either random potshots fired at the town, or firing into the air by Israeli Soldiers. I asked my host how he could tell the Israeli fire from PA fire, and he told me that the Kalishnikovs the PA soldiers carry don't make much noise. Today I heard a PA soldier return fire with his Kalishnikov, and it was quite a pitiful sound compared to the Israeli M-16's. 5 Died from the town yesterday, 4 the day before. My host says that on average, 5 die each day. Some were children. Most are people who strayed too close to the edge of the city. In these close quarters, it's pretty easy to do so.

I was in one fellows house, and he showed me where a potshot from a nearby settlement went through his window and hit the wall above his couch.

All of my host's brothers have done time in Israeli Jails. They are devout muslims, and a peaceful and apolitical family, with no organizational afilliations. Not even with the mainstream Fatah party.

I was hoping to see the beach (which is closed by the Israeli Army), and the Airport (Which is closed by the Israeli army), but my host has insisted these areas are dangerous to go near. I do not want to cause him worry, so I have not pursued these matters. The border crossing to Egypt is likewise unapproachable. He told his son to make sure I don't go anywhere within (gun) sight of the border or the settlements. They refuse to let me go anywhere on my own, and with good reason, I'm sure. In any case, there's really nowhere to go. It's a dangerous place, but I know I'm in good hands.

To complicate things, the children are lighting off their Ramadan-firecrackers at night (which I think is just fucked for many reasons).... I am learning to tell the difference between M-16 fire, Kalishnikov fire, and Firecrackers. (Which is also pretty fucked).

My host's son has joked that the gunfire has become so regular that some people can't get to sleep without it.

There were two attacks on the border guards by locals yesterday.. .one by Rifle, one by bomb. Both attackers are dead. Their families are preparing to have their houses demolished, as is the standard Israeli punishment. There is already a cluster of about 8 tents in the middle of the town which are now the homes of families whose homes have been demolished.

My hosts have been wonderful, but I'm dying to get the fsck out of here... It's not the gunfire that bothers me, but the sadness of it all... I'm hoping to leave tomorrow aft, and hoping to make it all the way to Jerusalem.

My host's friend's dad died a few years ago in an industrial accident in Israel. The jewish factory owner still gives a small amount of money to help support the family each month. My host wishes the Intifada had never happened, and longs for the the return when Palestinians and Israelis can live and work in peace again. He wonders why Ariel Sharon found it necessary to tear-gas the Al-Aqsa mosque, and have worshippers clubbed, in order for him to visit it, thus kicking off the Intifada. He feels Sharon would have been welcome at any time to visit the mosque in peace.

I've met a wide range of opinions in my travels, but I am surprised to hear such sincerely peaceful sentiments from people living directly in the line of fire.

I've got much more notes on the people I've met, conversations made, and stories heard, however, they must wait until the final cut.

In regards to the "Garbage strewn beach" of Gaza city... I see from my trip along the cost to the south that this was a very limited stretch. Much of the Gazan coast is quite beautiful and in great condition. I'm sure there is much tourist potential here when things settle down.

I've seen some roaches here that no amount of imaginiation could make "Cute and tropical".

On a lighter note, the family asked me the question I most dread: "What relgion are you?". This is difficult to explain, as I am agnostic, and many muslims find it hard to conceive of somebody without a religion. As I explained it to my host, his face finally lit up with realization, and he said, in all seriousness:

"Ah, I understand now! You are a communist!"

2002-11-06T03:17:00.000-08:00

Walked around yesterday afternoon. The banks were closed by 1 in the afternoon, so no luck in getting money. Walked down to see the beach. It was my belief previously that Israeli did not allow Gazans access to thier coastline, but this does not apply to all areas.

What I saw was characteristic of what I term "Palestinian Environmental Callousness". What could have been a beautiful mediterranean beach was instead a mess of garbage and other assorted waste. Every few hundred feet, what appeared to be storm sewers empties into the Sea. It wasn't sewage water, but it wasn't clean, either. Later, when I return, I will likely go into greater depth on Palestinian environmental neglect. Granted, some can be blamed on lack of infrastrucucture due to the occupation, but much of it is inexcusable, particulary the soiling of this beach.

As I walk, I startle translucent, invisible crabs about 2 inches wide... they scurry, startling me too. I try to watch for them, but they are damned near invisible until they move. They scrurry into 1" wide holes, much like gophers would.

I continued up the beach, and came to a barbed wire fence with soldiers sitting on the other side. I waved to them in greeting. I saw a break in the fench, carefully squeezed through it, and approached the soldiers. One rose and asked me for my passport, which I gave to him. He saw I was Canadian and asked if I spoke french. In french I told him "yes, a little". He told me he learned french as a student in Algeria. I asked him if I could continue on up the beach... he said no problem. I asked him about the litter covering the previous section of beach, but he did not understand the question.

I came to an area with many grounded boats, and a few dozen fishing close to shore. There was a concrete barrier which streched a couple of hundred feet out to protect the boats fishing close to shore... I gathered this was the Gaza "Harbour" I sat at the edge to rest. As I sat, the previous Algerian-Student-Soldier approached with two officers, a young one and an old one. They just wanted to make chat with the foreigner. After chatting, they invited me to tea.

We went back to their guardshack where I saw the first soldiers. We sat, drank tea, chatted, and smoked Sheesha. They were actually the Palestinian Harbour Police/Navy.

They told me that Gaza had tried to build a harbour in the past, but that Israel has repeatedly bombed anything they build. On occasion, the F-16s still come in to strafe the harbour at night. This strikes me as a rather useless thing to do, so I ask them why... They reply "They are reminding us who has big the guns - Just scaring us". This is characteristic of the intimidation and harassment that seems characterist of the occupation.

The major jokes that even Bangladesh has a better harbour than Gaza.

I asked why they were all wearing different uniforms, they said it was due to lack of funding.. Although they'd like a standard uniform, at this point, they are using what they can get. This also explains the motley assortment of uniforms I'd seen throughout the city.

I point to an industrial complex a few kilometers up the beach, and ask them about it. Aparrently it is an Israeli oil refinery. The hate being stationed on the Palestinian-owned beach near the refinery, as they are always being shot at from the complex and nearby settlement. They like the Gaza-city assignment, as it is relatively peaceful. They work 24 hours on, 48 hours off.

We all talked a little about the occupation. They stressed how much they wished they could live in peace with their nieghbors, but that their neighbors only shoot at them. The major told me he detests talking about politics, but feels the reality of the occupation and his role requires it of him. He seems like he'd be happier fishing for a living than soldiering for a living.

There are still questions that havn't been answered to my satisfaction, partially due to language barrier, and partially due to me not wanting to be 'too foward'. What's the purpose of the soldiers? Why is Downtown Gaza so "unoccupied"?

They ask me what religion I am. I tell them I am Agnostic, and explain it to them. Like most of the Muslims I've met, they think it odd that someone would choose not to have a religion. "Not Muslim? Not Christian? Not Jewish??" they ask. The younger officers start proselytizing, something I am uncomfortable with. I tell them that they can tell me as much as they like, but it is of no use until Allah makes me ready to hear them with my heart. This appears to appease them. The major, much older and wiser, senses
my discomfort, and says something to the younger men...The topic is soon changed.

A soldier walks up to us with 4 crabs, He lets me hold one. Then he hands me a Sea Horse about 2.5 inches long. It is as beautiful as you imagine one would be. I see it is still alive. I become quite distressed, and without any consideration of good manners, immediately ask "Can I put him back". The soldiers laugh, and reply "if it will make you feel better". I run to the beach, and gently toss the little fellow 10 feet out... I hope he's ok.

I spend a total of 3 hours with the soldiers, until the sun goes down. We have great conversation.

Walk to the Commercial district, get my email. A youth follows me out of cafe. I find it difficult to politely part his company. He demands money from me. I play dumb, repeating "Mish Fahiim" (Don't understand). I tell him we will find a translator, and disingenuously make my way towards people. He becomes agitated, but leaves.

In the evening, I went to the UN compound, the location of the "Beach Club", the only place to get a beer in Gaza. It is pricey, and requires a "Membership". I decide not to go in, but the manager invites me in and buys me a beer anyways. Theres about 5 groups of 3 men each around the bar. A mixed bag of internationals. I listen to some of the conversations around me. Most are about the occupation. I would have liked to have stayed, but really can't justify paying the minimum charges for one night only.

A few notes:

-I am leaving "Civilization", and heaving to Kahn Younis/Rafah today. My cell phone doesn't work in Gaza, and I'm unsure about getting net access... So I may be incommunicado for 3 days.

-There's a lot of poor people in Gaza City... often, I am mobbed by children demanding money from me. Playing dumb seems to work generally well, though... It's not that hard, as I am actually pretty dumb.

-I hear several loud bangs a day... Asking others, it appears these are kids with firecrackers. I've actually seen this myself... It appears that Fireworks/crackers are available in Gaza City, which seems odd to me for several reasons:

1) They are a total luxury item, surprising to see in the hands of poor looking children.

2) They're setting off M80's, not just ladyfingers... Which are pretty big for crackers... I'm incredibly surprised Israel even allows these into the territories.

3) I'm surprised the military allows them... It seems to me that random bangs can only be a cause of misunderstanding and unnecessary tension in Gaza.

-I really like the way some Pals roll their R's. Not all, but some do it in a certain way that's quite pleasing to the ears.

-Ramadan starts today. I'm not sure how this affects me, but I suspect I won't be looked kindly upon for eating during daytime, Muslim or not. Probably have to sneak snacks. From what I understand, south Gaza is pretty conservative as well.

-I found the Pals of rural Palestine to be universally wonderful people, without exception. I do not find that here, and am always watching my back.

Anyhow, I'm off to Kahn Younis...

2002-11-05T02:42:00.000-08:00

Walked around last night. Found some fellows drinking tea and smoking Sheesha outside of a convenience store. Joined them for a few minutes. They were very nice, but there was a language barrier, which prevented all but simple conversation.

I was quite surprised at the aparrent affluence of Gaza city. Affluence is perhaps an overstatement, but it contrasts highly to the waste-land feel of the West Bank. There's a few buildings (~6 story) under construction. The cars don't look like they've returned from a demolition derby as they do in the WB. Even subtle things, such as the broader range of condiments at the Shoarma stands. Talking to a few people, I gather this doesn't extend far beyond Gaza city, and it becomes quite a mess of poverty and destruction as one goes south.

Gaza city seems quite "safe". There's n0 Israeli presence here. No curfew, no Israeli soldiers. The ubiquitous Pal soldiers around seem relaxed and friendly. Aparrently, they are mostly here to "keep order". I still havn't exactly got a handle on what their duties are, though. Obviously, they would be ineffective against an Israeli invasion (Small arms vs Tanks+Jets?), so I assume they must be here to counter an internal threat... Hamas? Thieves? Settler incursion? I'm quite curious to figure out. I've noticed that as I leave my area, I see less soldiers... Don't know if this is a good thing or not.

I continued on... I saw a street that would take me to the beech, but it was pitch black. I walked down it. I thought I saw the outline of a person in the shadows, but it was perfectly still, and said nothing to me. I thought I saw the multi-shaded patterning of a soldier. I reached for my flashlight at my hip pocket... as I reached for it, I saw him move and raise his rifle at me... "I'm ok, I'm ok", I shouted... He stepped towards me... when he saw me he lowered his rifle... I just about had a shit. I said "Flashlight", and slowly pulled out my flashlight, and shone it at his feet... he was a soldier. He saw my shirt, said "Ah, Canada", and smiled. We tried to talk to each other, but there was a language barrier. All I could get is that I wasn't allowed to continue on down the street I wanted to go down. (Perhaps beachfront access is restricted at night... perhaps it was a military area... I don't know). We shook hands and I departed, shaking my head at my own stupidity (of making suspicious movements).

I continued my walk, found some youths seated around a small mobile kiosk, drinking tea and smoking sheesha. I sat with them.

I met Khaled, 17 yrs old, who came to Gaza with his family from the UAE as a child, before the Intifada. He is unhappy here, and his family is considering leaving, but the decision is a hard one: Even if they do manage to get out of the Gaza strip, the Israelis won't allowed them to come back. Ultimately, they have to choose between one or the other.

Soon, a 65ish man with excellent English joined us. He told me he was the director of inter-university relations at Al-Aqsa university in Gaza city. He told me he maintains relations with foreigners from all over in the hopes these relations benefitting his own efforts at Al-Aqsa. . He was a very intelligent man, a Phd in Physics, and his English was very good. He invited me for a tour the next day.

I went back to my hotel. As I entered, and turned on the lights, I noticed many critters scurrying for cover.
I saw several roaches on the walls of my room. They seemed rather docile. I told myself they were a cool kind of tropical beetle, and felt much better about it. I turned on the bathroom light, and saw a flurry of ant-like critters scrurry for the drain. All in all, I was quite surprised, as the hotel is quite clean, and well maintained. I didn't even see this at Jerusalem's Faisel hostel, which is significantly less well-maintained.

Woke in the morning and went to Al-Aqsa. It is one of three Universities adjacent to each other. The others are the Islamic University, and Al-Hazar University. Fuad showed me a bit of his efforts in communicating/forging relations with other universities in North America, and showed me around the university. I sat and had tea with some of the other professors (I just love the Palestinians and their chronic tea-drinking!). Still curious about the surprising "peacefulness" of Gaza city, I asked them about it. They told me that Gaza city is surrounded by several military settlements, and that travel is highly restricted to the south, with many checkpoints, some shooting, and some (tank) shelling of Palestinian vehicles. They told me that the Palestinian Authority has almost complete control of North Gaza, despite Israeli attempts to disrupt the civil administration, but that control does not extend to South Gaza (Khan Younis/Rafah).

Tomorrow I will set out early for Khan Younis. I don't really feel I've gotten enough information for my own comfort, but the best I can do is hit the road and let the details work themselves out. A few notes:

-There were two bombings last night in Tel Aviv. I asked a fellow in the internet Cafe how he felt about it, and he replied "Great!" with a broad smile. I told him that this will likely bring Israeli recriminations, resulting in even more Palestinian deaths, and asked him if he thought this was worth it. He said "Yes. They keep us in a prision, and we have no way to get at them. It is our only way to hit them". I hypothesise I will see more support for the bombings among the Gazans than I did within the West Bank.

-The other day while taking a shuttle from Ramallah to Jerusalem, I had the chance to have an extended conversation with the owner of a watch-store. His name was Jamal, and his english was excellent. I asked him about the Palestinians seen cheering during 9/11. He replied that these people were "Rubbish", and were not representative of Palestinians in general. He said that it is the nature of media to focus in on this unrepresentative few, and portray them as the many. I plan to ask this question again as opportunity allows.

-The Gazans have the same affinity for ornamental, non-functioning clocks that I noticed in the West Bank. It's quite odd, but cute as well.

-F16's keep flying overhead. I've asked a few people why this is. They reply "To scare us".

2002-11-04T08:20:00.000-08:00

Well, I'm in Gaza now. Gaza City. Infamous Gaza city.

There was a massive Israeli checkpoint named "eres" which I had to go through at the edge of the Gaza Strip. It was a massive concrete construction largely empty of people. The soldiers were amiable, and let me through without unnecessary hassle. I didn't think it would be that hard. I was skeptical of some of the Palestinian suggestions that I'd be refused entry.

There was another, Palestinian checkpoint 500 meters away. Going through it was a quick formality. It's not like the Gazans have any real control over their own borders anyhow.

The drive up took. An hour. Had a nice chat with the driver, who was also the manager of my Hostel (Many Pals have two jobs, I've found). I asked him how many kids he had... he said 5. I joked that he'd been a "busy fellow", to which he replied "Too many curfews!".

I asked him if there was a place to get a drink in the West Bank... he said there was in the past, but now there wasn't. Aparrently, the present tension has strengthened the power of the Islamic factions here, allowing them to impose their will on others. He said that in peacetime, they wouldn't exert the power they do now.

I also asked him how it was that he had a "yellow" plate, which allows him on Israeli/settler roads. He told me that it is because he is a Palestinian from Jerusalem. He has Israeli ID, but not a passport (This is surprising, as I've met a few other Jerusalem Pals with passports).

My first hour in Gaza was a pain in the ass.. I got ripped off twice by agressive, overcharging cabbies. Not that it cost me a lot, but it's the principle of the thing. The desperation here is a definitely different flavor than West Bank desperation, which isn't so overt, and takes a backseat to genuine niceness.

The air is more humid than the west bank (Which I appreciate), and the plants more tropical. I'm at a hotel (Al-zahrah-$20 US/night) about 1 km from the Mediterranian. I havn't been to the beach yet. It's quite densly populated here, although I can see there is much room for future construction: I see many city blocks levelled by Israeli Airstrikes.

There appears to be solid infrastructure here.. .much less rubbish laying around that the WB, but still the occasional "Garbage fires" (Mischief or design, I do not know). There are streetlights, which I didn't even see in Ramallah. There are soldiers EVERYWHERE. I asked a soldier why there were so many, and he said that because settlers do drive-by shootings at night. I don't know if I buy this, as it is *daytime*. Perhaps it is self-policing. I really don't know, but am going to find out...

There is a University here. Walking up the street, I was accosted by a fellow named Samial, who said he was a chem student. We had a nice chat as we walked. When we parted, he warned me that I should roll down my pants (Which I had rolled up to the knee), lest I invite trouble. It didn't seem to bother him, but he told me it would be more polite. I just asked another fellow in the Internet cafe about this, and he told me it's not a problem in Gaza city, but if I go to the neighboring camps with bare legs, I will be seen as very rude.

Combined with what my driver said, I'm getting the feeling that Gaza is much more religiously/culturally conservative than the West Bank (which really isn't that conservative). I just asked the fellow beside me if there was a danger that I would be mistaken for an American, and done harm. He stressed that there was no danger at all, and that Gazans love all foreigners who come here.

Gaza can be quite a dangerous place, but I figure as long as I stay clear of residences/building with Hamas flags (Which read "Drop bomb here" in Hebrew), I should be ok.

Anyways, I've only just gotten settled... Tomorrow I hit the pavement in search of tea and conversation. I expect to stay here a few days.

2002-11-03T04:52:00.000-08:00

Asked around, found out that my only way to get to Gaza is from Jerusalem. Some even doubted if it could be done, which tells me that it's not common for people to do the trip. Palestinians definitely can't.

Went to ISM office in Bethlehem to meet Gordon. Sarah, the media person was there. We chatted for a bit. She's a spirited woman who tells-it-like-it-is, with distinctly unsantized speech. Definitely a refreshing change from the uber-political correctness of some of the other ISMers. She told me about how Gordon had asked her to research Israel's new "Wall" for him a while ago, and what she learned had caused her two weeks of depression. Aparrently the new wall is the much bigger brother of the Berlin wall, complete with trenches, minefields (On the Palestinian side, of course), and an array of automated sensing devices. Aparrently the wall isn't being built along the "Green Line" (1967 border) as Israel claims, but it is instead meandering like a serpent to incorporate orchards and prime fertile land. In some cases, the wall is being extended far into Palestinain territory as a "security buffer" for settlements located exactly on the gree line. All in all, Qualqiliya will lose 80% of it's orchards. As well, mines are being laid in the farmland on the Palestinian side, causing a further loss of land.

Gordon showed up. His primary concern was to find out why I was leaving ISM, what could have been done better. I told him that ISM is a fantastic organization, and I feel they work very well. I told him I had no issues with ISM, and that I just felt that we weren't a good fit for each other. I also told him I was eager to witness different aspects/manifestations of the occupation, and didn't think I'd get that chance assigned to one region. This is all true... I do think ISM is doing incredible work...but I can definitely see now it is not my path. Aparrently Gordon is coming to Canada soon for a lecture tour, but won't be making it to Cowgary.

Now, I head back to Jerusalem, where I will stay overnight, before I set out to Gaza tomorrow. It's really hard to get from A to B here in the West Bank... Travelling only 30 kilometers often takes half a day... and it's very hard to get transportation after dinnertime, due to the many curfews. It's actually pretty hard to keep track of what's under curfew when... Sometimes I don't think the Israelis even know!

As the soldier said... "It's just a game...."

2002-11-03T02:08:00.000-08:00

Woke up, munched on a pita from night before, left hotel. Hotel staffmember chases me down to stay for breakfast, which is included in the rate ($30/night - ouch). I stay for breakfast of olives, picks, jam, cheeze, and pita. It is quite good. The hotel is quite upscale for the region (best I've been in so far), but is in trouble due to ZERO tourists since start of intifada.

I've mentioned the Intifada a few times, and how the "Last two years have been particularly bad"... I should go into greater depth on this later.

I went to the church of Nativity today... the site of 39 day standoff earlier this year. A fellow outside offered to guide me, for which I paid him 50 shekels ($10 US)... I don't regret it.. he was a professional guide, and very knowledgeable. It's quite an old building. It is a church built on the the site of Jesus' birth. Actually, more appropriately, it's a church built over the church built over the church built over the pagan temple built over the church at the site of Jesus' birth, if I get the story right. Many churches have been build and destroyed in the last 2000 years, however, the one standing is basically 1500 years old. This is all a rough and inaccurate history of the history of the church... forgive me.. I took in a lot of information this morning. It's actually quite a large complex, divided into three major areas, for Catholics, Armenians, and greek orthodox. There are also smaller areas for occasional use by Ethiopian and Syrian Christians.

He also showed me the Damage done by the Israelis. There were bullet-scars around several of the stone entrances to the church. In places, the soldiers drilled holes through the stone walls for surveillance equipment. They even erected a crane in the churches central courtyard with a top-mounted machine gun and automated laser sighting system which shot anything that moved. He said they had similar devices hovering above the churches on baloons. It seemed very "Running Man" to me. In fact, I find the whole west bank is chillingly dystopian. In any case, I digress.

Other parts of the church had been set on fire during the seige. Thankfully, the fires didn't spread far, as the place is 99% stone. Some ancient mosaics had been damaged by Israeli gunfire. He lamented that if anyone had shot at a Synagogue, there would be worldwide outrage, but the world had sat idle while all of this damage had been done.

All in all, the church was QUITE beautiful.

I bought a few gifts at the gift shop. On the street, I paid 20 Shekels for a few postcards.. definitely overpaid, but I really felt badly for the fellow selling them. He was basically begging me to buy something. Everyone here is quite desperate. All in all, I've spent far more money in Bethlehem than I would have liked to.

Thinking about leaving for Jerusalem today, and perhaps even trying for Gaza. Jerusalem is the main crossover-point between the west Bank and Israel.

My knees are killing me. I think it's because I had two weeks of incredibly intense activity (hiking up and down steep, rocky hills to pick olives), and then all of the sudden stopped. I find they are ok as long as I keep moving them, but once I stop, they kind of seize up, and take some patience and encouragement to bend again. I'm rather surprised at this, considering my high degree of activeness in Calgary.

My clothes stink, as I havn't found a decent place to wash/dry them, and have been moving so much I havn't been able to let them air-dry properly. I smell like an old dishrag.

Having trouble getting ahold of George.

Got a great map at the tourist center beside the Church of nativity. Somehow, I felt quite naked without one.

2002-11-02T12:44:00.000-08:00

Made it to Bethlehem tonight... As the crow flies, the journey is about 30 K from Ramallah..... As the Palestinian under occupation flies, however, it is a completely different matter.

It took me 2.5 hours and 3 cabs to make the Journey, due to roadblocks (Physical, army-created barriers) and Checkpoints (Manned checkpoints where you are asked for ID, and/or searched). Due to a bit of luck, some clever Pal driving, and a bit of hiking, I avoided several checkpoints, which is a good thing... as often they can take several hours to clear.

Movement in the West Bank is completely paralyzed. I feel like I'm in a big prison.

2002-11-02T03:20:00.000-08:00

Well, Curfew was rather tame on thursday night.

By 5:30, chaos was breaking out as everyone desperately rushes to get home. At 6, the rush is still on. By 6:30, there are some straggers on the streets. By 6:45, it's mainly just youths lurking in the shadows, and a stupid canadian dressed in bright colors pounding the pavement. A gang of youths shouted to me, ran towards me, and formed a circle around me. They seemed more curious than hostile. "Ah-may-ree-khan? Is-rah-ay-leen?", the ask? I say "Canadian". They do not seem to understand. I roll up my sleeve, and show them my Canadian flag tattoo.. they smile, shake my hand, and continue on.

As I walked around the core, a 35ish fellow sitting outside a building invited me to take his chair. He insisted, so I sat for a bit. We chatted. I told him I was waiting to follow and record the army. He told me his story: His name is Ziyad, and during the recent invasion (February), his home was invaded by Israeli soldiers. They beat him, and broke his front teeth with a rifle butt. They destroyed the interior of his apartment. His sister was shot and killed in her sleep, and he was shot four times in his legs. After he recovered from surgery, he was imprisioned, and denied food for four days. I asked if he was involved with any resistance group, or had any weapons... he insisted he was clean.. Due to the language barrier, I wasn't able to get as much details as I would have liked. When I promised him I would tell other Canadians his story, He became teary eyed.

I had to cut tea with Ziyad short: The army came around 7:30, with loudspeakers blaring, and I left Ziyad's in a rush. I saw the few remaining people on the street running for cover. I saw youths picking up bottles. I turned on my voice recorder. As I walked up the street, a jeep came around the corner, trained it's spotlight on me. I slowed to a stop, showed open hands, and pointed towards my hotel "I'm going home". The jeep continued on. As he turned out of sight, I did a 180 to follow. I saw a youth of 12 with a bottle in his hand. I pointed at his bottle, wagged my finger disapprovingly, and said "La, La" (no, no). He ignored me and continued on. I followed 20 ft behind him. 30 seconds later, the jeeps appear to have left the city center. All of the sudden, a taxi speeds up the street right in front of me, pursued by two jeeps, loudpspeakers blaring. A bottle thrown off of a rooptop misses the jeep and smashes right at my feet, startling the hell out of me. It should be audible on my recording, about halfway through. All in all, it was a rather tame curfew: no skirmishes, and no concussion grenades.

Sound file: http://www.memeticcandiru.com/~palmon/sounds/ramallah-curfew2.wav

Went to Stones in the eve to update notebook. 3 fellows at an adjacent table invited me to sit with them. All 3 were 28, professional, well dressed, and well groomed. For the purpose of this diary, I will call them Graphic Artist, Computer Programmer, and Electronic engineer.

GD was fairly new to Palestine, having immigrated from Kuwait in 1993, during the gulf war. In 1993, thousands of ethnic Palestinians fled Kuwait following Yasser Arafat's statements of support of Iraq. Many who didn't leave were killed. GD ended up in Jordan, but was unwelcome there as well, and eventually came to Palestine. Unfortunately, he has no Palestinian ID, so lives in constant fear of being ID'd, which would result in his imprisionment. The university, where he went is in a satellite town of Ramallah, called Beir Zeit. The Calandia roadblock separates the two, and although it isn't a formal checkpoint, soldiers randomly ask people for ID there. He was ID'd once, and claimed that he had forgotten his ID at school. He was "Strip searched" in front of hundreds of people. He says that public nakedness is twice as shameful for a Palestinian muslim as it is for foreigners. He is determined to stay in Palestine.

MC is desperate to leave Palestine. He missed a year of high school as a result of spending 6 months in an israeli prision. He was picked up for wearing a black shirt on a day during which many Palestinians were wearing black shirts as a sign of mourning for 6 palestinian civilians killed the day before. He told me he likes to wear black, was more concerned with fashion than politics, and didn't realize that he was unwittingly taking part in this clothing-protest. The soldier fired rounds between his feet as he arrested him. The soldier urged him to run, "so he could shoot him". Thankfully, due to the inseverity of his crime, he spent limited time in the "Banana" position (torture). Now, his standard ID has been replaced with a "Green" one, which severely limits his options in regards to travel, employment, and education. He is quite discouraged, and feels there are few options for him in Palestine. Despite his sense of despair, I feel he is better off than many Palestinians. He is a capable and smart fellow. He is working on coming to Canada, but is concerned about what he will do once he gets there. I tell him that the hard part is getting in - He is intelligent and able, and I am confident he will do well once he gets to Canada.

EE has no vision in his right eye, as a result of an Israeli "Rubber bullet". I've handled these "rubber bullets", and contrary to the nerf-like projectile one might imagine, they are a square lead slug with a thin plastic sheaf. They do not penetrate, but will shatter bone. Typically, they are shot at faces, to do maximum damage, in contrast to the "live rounds", which are usually aimed for the legs. (I've seen many, many, many wounded and crippled legs since I've been here). Anyhow, I digress. EE was shot in the eye, while throwing stones as a teenager. He's also been wounded in the leg, by a ricocheting live round, but his leg is ok. He is well employed, and happy to live in Palestine. He admits that they three of them come to Stones to "Escape" the trouble of their daily lives. He says that I am doing more for their own country than they have ever done. I tell him that I understand how difficult it is for Palestinians to resist the occupation actively.

I ask the three if they are rich, they say they are middle class. I speculate upper-middle class. From what I see, the middle class is small, and the upper class is even smaller. I imagine the lower class makes up 99% of Palestinians.

I ask them how Stones can remain open during curfew, and they laugh, saying it is "complicated". The say that part of the reason the bar is not touched is because of it's affluent clientele. They also say that the bar is located in the "Christian Quarter" of Ramallah, which the Israeli Army goes easy on. Aparrently the army is characteristically lenient on the Christian Palestinians, in an effort to drive a rift between them and the Muslim Palestinians. They tell me that all Palestinians, whether Christian or Muslim, consider themselves Palestinian first, and reject such differentiation. In fact, they tell me me, it's considered impolite for Pals to ask each other their religion. The three joke that they are "Christians for a night".

They tell me that although the bar remains open during curfew, it is sometimes raided by the army, who bar the exits and demand ID from everyone inside.

I had two Taybeh's (beer) and two Argila's (pipe). My companions inform me that doctors say that 1 Argila is worth 20 cigarettes. When they tell me this, I remember last week as I burst into a fit of violent coughing in front of some soldiers... They asked me if I smoked... I said "No". "Perhaps you should start" they joked.

My lungs are doing much better now, but perhaps I should take it easy on the Argila.

As we leave, they offer me a ride. I decline, not wanting to take them out of their way, or keep them on the roads longer than necessary. They insist, telling me that the Israelis will shoot on sight if they see me. I ask them if they aren't afraid of the same. "Fuck the Israelis" they say, and laugh.

As we drive home, EE showed me a bullet hole in his windsheild, and the corresponding slug-hole in his headrest. Aparrently, one night, he had parked his car in front of his house, and left a jacket draped over the chair. Soldiers driving by assumed it was someone in his car after curfew, and shot.

--------------------------------------------------
Friday:

Woke up first thing Fri morning to a call from Lee, who is leaving the airport. He had arrived 3 hours early for interrogation, as we are told to do. He is surprised by the depth of it, which included going through his Camera's memory, and reading his Journal. They catch him in his lie that he had not been to the West Bank. He is interrogated by three different people, who repeatedly ask him the same questions in different ways. Of course, all of this is done under the guise of "security", but really, it is just an intelligence grab. If security was the consideration, a thorough physical search should be sufficient. Lee mentions that he had some addresses of friends we made, which revealed his lie that he hadn't been to the West Bank. I hope this does not come back to our friends in Palestine. He tells me that a fellow Canadian passenger was told his laptop would be impounded for two days. The passenger refused to surrender it, and called his consulate. Lee didn't mention the outcome. I appeciate the call... It really drives home the point of how difficult it can be to get out. I will have to take a great deal of care when I leave with items in my posession, and my story. I will be sending several items ahead of me via mail.

Friday is all-day curfew. It's a convenient day to have a curfew, however, as it is also the Muslim holy day. There are a few people out on the streets, and a few cars. Perhaps 2% of normal traffic. I walk to the Xtian quarter, where I find a few stores open. Some stores are discreetly open, with their solid-steel plate doors only slightly ajar, and some are overtly open, with steele plate doors completely open. These doors are similar to the kind of heavy doors one might find on the front of a large electronics store. Theft-and-riot proof.

I walk into a store. The proprieter asks me If I am american. "Canadian" I say. He doesn't understand me, and continues on.. "It's ok if you are American... we don't have a problem with Americans, just their govt". I lift my sleeve, show him my tattoo, and he smiles and says "Aaahhhh Canada!". It sure is a great thing to be a Canadian around here... the Pals generally think very highly of Canadians.

As I walk, a bunch of kids on a balcony above start shouting down at me. I don't know what they are saying, so I just wave and smile. They start shouting louder, and pointing up the street. I look, and see an army jeep and an APC coming speeding up the street. The APC gunner trains his top-mounted machine gun on me. I slow to a stop and show open hands. They speed past. I see on of the balcony boys with something in his hand wind up for a throw, and his mom smacks him with a rolled up magazine.

I reflect that many times I've seen Pal women restrain their husbands/sons from doing something stupid in the heat of the moment. I think it is a very good thing. I find it very characteristic of a certain female wisdom.

I also thing that curfew isn't likely as enforced during the day as it is at night. From what I hear, the present enforcement of curfew is a little more lax than it was 6 months ago, when the army shot anything that moved.

----------------------
Sat: Uploaded some pics left behind at the internet cafe by Lee. Dumped some sounds off of my Digital Audio Recorder. I hope to visit the Taybeh brewery today, and then continue on to Jerusalem/Bethlehem.

Here's a few tardy but choice sound samples:

Eating lunch with Monsour family in an orchard, to the delightful sounds of gunfire 200 feet away. The Israeli army appropriated part of their orchard as a firing range. You may hear the occasional ricochet: http://www.memeticcandiru.com/~palmon/sounds/DeirisityaMachinegunlunch2.wav

Here's lunch from the day before: http://www.memeticcandiru.com/~palmon/sounds/deiristiyamachinegunlunch1.wav

Nafez Monsour tells of the loss of his eye: http://www.memeticcandiru.com/~palmon/sounds/deiristiyanafez.wav

Hillel, one of the Israeli activists, translates his conversation w/ a sympathetic soldier: http://www.memeticcandiru.com/~palmon/sounds/yasufsoldierpick.wav

Recording of the abduction of Dawoud: Not at lot there... the initial barking of the loudspeaker, and then 50 seconds later, me hysterically shouting "Did they take him??!?!?!?" in shock. A few seconds later, Lee and Ehab arrive on the scene: http://www.memeticcandiru.com/~palmon/sounds/DeirIstDawoud.wav

And last but not least, three charming young ladies of Yasuf sing "Hello, Good morning", A song used to introduce English to Pal children. It actually gave me goosebumps! http://www.memeticcandiru.com/~palmon/sounds/yasufhellogoodmorning.wav

2002-10-31T16:45:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow will be a full day curfew in Ramallah. Palastinians won't be allowed outside for the entire day. Dan will not be able to update journal.

-Jason

2002-10-31T03:44:00.000-08:00

Woke up early yesterday, and left Hares for Salfit. 6 other internationals were heading that way too. We reached bus stop at 6:45 am. At 7am, we saw a checkpoint being erected nearby, restricting traffic out of Hares. We heard that similar checkpoints and closures had been erected all over the westbank, for the purpose of disrupting people trying to go to work. I called Jehad, a taxi driver I knew. He told me that a checkpoint had been erected outside of his nearby villiage, and that the army was forbidding people to leave. About 15 people waited at my stop, 7 Intrntnls, and 8 Pals. As we waited, a yellow-plated (Jewish) jeep pulled over at the other side of the street, and a burly, 40ish settler got out and started yelling at us in Hebrew. He made violent punching and kicking motions to us, but didn't do anything. After a few minutes, the soldiers from the checkpoint 200 feet away came to see what the ruckus was.... they talked him down, and eventually he left in his jeep.

We tried to flag down white and green plated Pal vehicles for a life, but most were already full... Any vehicle on the road with space was picking up as many as they could. At 8am on the nose, the checkpoint packed up and left. As busses and Taxis hit the road, they were instantly filled by the many people still waiting to get to work. I wasn't able to find a spot on a bus until 9am or so.

Went to Salfit, did internet. Took a shuttle to Yasuf.. Met a few young men on the bus. After chatting for a while, one pulled up his pant leg and showed me his brace: His leg was permanently damaged by an Israeli bullet. Due to language barrier I was unable to find out the circumstances.

When I arrived in Yasuf, nader was still in the fields, so I went for a walk. As I walked, two construction workers asked me to join them for tea. One of the workers, Ali, has a degree in English. We had a nice chat. He stressed the importance of me telling other Canadians what I have seen in Palestine. His friend asked me how I could get him a Canadian Visa. I am asked this question very frequently, and find it very painful, as I don't think there's much chance of many Palestinians getting a Visa. I can sense a bit of desperation in each asking. I deflect these questions by telling the asker that he'd having to marry me. They invariably find this hiliarous. I then continue to tell them that they can get more information from the Canadian consulate in Ramallah.

As we spoke, Ali jumped up and reach past me quicker than I could blink. In his hand he held a nail-and-cement encrusted 2x4 that he had intercepted 8 inches away from my shoulder as it fell on me from behind. Aparrently it had been leaning unstably, and just decided to fall. Amazed, I laughed, and told him he was quicker than a snake. "In the West Bank, one must always be watching", he replied.

I eventually met up with with Nader, had tea, and said goodbyes. I became quite close with Nader and his family while there. Last week, his brother gave me a gift, a Palestinian Scarf. Nader's got a masters in english, and is incredibly an incredibly articulate and passionate speaker. I always want to record him, but don't think of it until after he's spoken. He's committed to the path of non-violent resistance against the army. He's a community leader of his villiage, and I'm confident he will successfully take them on the right path. He was sad when I told him I wouldn't be coming to Friday's goodbye dinner. He said that the children of Yasuf are always asking about "Dan, Dan"... He said that my presence at the thank-you dinner will be missed.. by all villiagers. I had quite a lump in my throat. He and Hassan accompanied me to the city limits where we said goodbye. As it was late in the day, close to curfew when travel becomes difficult, they made my Shuttle driver promise to make sure I made my next connexion to Ramallah, and if I didn't, to bring me back to Yasuf.

(As an aside, Hassan has a wide scar that runs from the side of his mouth halfway to his ear - he was shot in the face two years ago when Israeli soldiers opened fire on an unarmed crowd of villiagers. I don't know more about this incident, except that many were injured in it... I am hesitant to ask more. It is all the more impressive to me that the whole villiage of Yasuf is commited to non-violent resistance, particularly considering what they've been through.)

I made my connexion, and continued on the teeth-shaking winding dirt roads to Ramallah. Ramallah is one of about 6 major Palestinian population centers, and is home to ~100,000 people. The trip is roughly 1.5 hours for Palestinians on the dirt roads. On paved settler highways, the trip would have taken about 15 minutes, however, Palestinians are not allowed to use them. I was dropped off about 2 K outside of Ramallah: We were unable to proceed due to a massive rubble-roadblock which blocks vehicular traffic to and from the city. I walked a few hundred feet past the roadblock, caught another taxi to the city center.

I arrived in the city center about 5pm, one hour before curfew, and checked into a cheap (16 US/night) but clean hotel, and went for a walk. By 5:30, the city was going INSANE, as everyone rushed to get home before the Israeli-imposed curfew set in. (As an international, the curfew doesn't apply to me. I planned to break curfew, and wore my big "CANADA" t-shirt). By 6pm, there were still a few people and cars on the streets, but about one tenth of what there had been before. The Israelis hadn't come yet. Maybe they weren't. I made my way to a pizza place a few blocks away to grab a small pizza. I had a lovely chat with the Pizza place's owner, who spoke excellent english, and aparrently had a degree in English. He told me about a bar that was open, even during curfew, called "Stones".

As I walked down the stairwell from the second story Pizza place, I could hear Israeli-army bullhorns blaring on the streets below. As I reached street level, I was filled with curiousity. As I left the bldng, a bottle smashed about 15 feet in front of me (Rather close when you aren't execting it). I saw a few youths scurrying away. I was right between the Jeeps and the youths. The armoured jeep-mounted bullhorns continued to blare. They are about 5 times as loud as a handheld bullhorn, and hurt my ears in these close quearters. I imagine they were saying "Curfew, Curfew! Go home! Go Home! The jeeps sped up the street, towards the city center, where I could hear more blaring and bottle smashing. I followed them on foot. As I followed, I saw youths fleeing the city center towards me, and hiding in the shadows near me. Somehow, I just felt apart from it all. There seemed little chance anyone would mistake me for an soldier, or a Palestinian. My Canadian t-shirt felt like a front-row pass to raw chaos.

Reaching the city center, marked by a non-functioning fountain bordered by worn stone lions, I saw Jeeps and APCs racing around in all directions, loudspeakers blaring. I could hear rock and glass impacts, but couldn't see exactly where they were coming from, or where they were impacting. I felt it was a good time to go back to my hotel. As I left the square, I heard an explosion about 60 feet behind me. I turned to see a group of 10 youths scattering in all directions and yelling. I didn't see any structural damage, and realized it must have been an Israeli concussion grenade thrown at the group, likely in response to stones. A concussion grenade has a big bang, but does not deliver shrapnel. It will shatter bone at 5 feet, and make you temporarily deaf at 10, but will not kill you.

I raced back to my hotel 2 blocks away to dump off my pizza and notebook, intent on returning and getting some good audio captures (I lost my camera last week in Ramallah). As I returned to the city center, I called my friend John in Calgary, so he could witness this incredible chaos. Although only 3 minutes had passed, there was dead calm in the city center. I saw some youths at the side of the square, with small items in their hands. As I came closer, I could see they were rocks. I asked them if they Israelis were gone. They nodded yes. They appeared to be waiting for the Israelis to return. One of them made throwing motions with his arm, and tried to hand me a rock. I laughed, and said "La, Shookran... Salaam Alykum" (No thanks.. goodbye, and peace be with you). It was dead calm... I apologized to John for lack of a show, and bid him goodbye.

I walked on towards "Stones", which was about 6 blocks away. As I walked, I saw a car parked in the shadows just past the entrace to an alley. It was full of smoking youths. A few youths were huddled close to the car, and a really rough-looking and wiry 50 year old. In whispers, they called me over. My instincts told me these people were bad news, so I went. They asked me if the soldiers were gone. I told them long gone. They seemed relieved, and thanked me. I continued on to Stones.

I saw a 40ish couple on the street. Curious, I asked them if it was safe for them to be out during curfew, and they told me it was ok... if the Army came, they'd just duck inside. I continued on to Stones.

I was quite surprised to see Stones. I was expecting a secret, barely marked door, to avoid army detection. To the contrary, it was a well lit and noisy venue, nicely decorated... say, roughly on par with an "Earl's". I sat and ordered a "Taybeh". Taybeh is a beer brewed in Ramallah, by Christian Palestinians. There's tons of Christian Palestinians in the WB. I also asked for a Nargila, a 3 foot tall pipe through which a sweet and mild, molasses-soaked tobacco is smoked. A Canadian may call it a "Hookah". I was quite surprised at the existence of the bar, and the clientele.. they were obviously affuent.. nice clothes.. perfect hair... pricey cell phones... There were about 20 ppl split up over five tables. I think one table were french internationals, but the rest were definitely locals. I had no doubt this is was the creme-de-la-creme of Ramallah. I totally couldn't understand how they could remain open, and so visibly so. I speculate that it's either a matter of pay-offs, or the army leaves them alone, as the clientele is so "exclusive", and possibly unlikely to be involved in resistance activity. Really, I'm not sold on either theory, and am completely puzzled. I had two Taybehs and left.

Walking back, I saw the "Rough looking 50 year old" whom I had seem with the youths in the Alley. He was just standing at the side of the street with a smoke in his hand. I stopped to talk to him. His english was excellent. He told me his name was Lewis, and that he'd spent time living in the states. He was a painter by trade (Industrial, not artistic). He had 3 dogs, which were playing in a nearby rubble-pile. This was pretty surprising, as dogs are uncommon in the Muslim world, and these were the first I had seen in Palestine (aside from a few dead wild ones I'd seen in the countryside). I asked him why he wasn't inside. He told me he wasn't afraid of the Israelis. "It wasn't always like this", he lamented. "Two years ago, we lived and worked side by side, as friends". I've heard this sentiment expressed by many palestinians.. a longing for the pre-intifada days, when there was relative peace (Although no autonomy). We had a lovely chat, and I left to my hotel.

The hotel was decent, but there was no sound on the TV, and the water was walking, as opposed to running. Nonetheless, it was clean, and I had a good sleep.

Had tea this morning with the hotel manager. He was a very intelligent, insightful fellow. He told me that last February, Ramallah was the first of the Pal cities invaded by Israeli, and thus, the least-prepared. He said that the lack of organized resistance saved them from the mass-destruction suffered by other cities, such as Jenin (which I hope to Visit). He hid Pal soldiers and policemen in his hotel, whom he dressed in civilian clothes, to make them appear as guests. He said that if the Israeli Army had seen the uniforms, they would have been shot on sight. His restaurant, attached to the hotel, was destroyed beyond repair, and remains closed. It was just part of the random destruction wreaked throughout the city during the invasion.

He is a Foreign-born Palestinian, who returned to Pal 20 years ago and fell in love with it. He would love to lead a dual Foreign/Palestinian existence, but due to Israel's full control of Palestinian borders, he must choose one or the other. If he goes to his country of origin, he will not be allowed back in, so he has decided to stay in Palestine. It's worth mentioning here that all Palestinian borders are Israeli-controlled, even those to Lebanon, Syria, Egypt, and Jordan. Palestinians who want to go abroad are not allowed to leave. Palestinians who manage to slip through the Israeli iron curtin, and try to re-enter, are not allowed. Palestinians born abroad who visit are often now allowed to return home. Palestinians who wish to emigrate face a dual challenge: Not just getting a visa, but also getting out.

He had some great thoughts on the political situation, which I will summarize (But not do justice to) here:

The Palestinian authority is corrupt, and much international aid is being distributed among Arafat's cronies. The new cabinet is a joke, as it is just a reshuffling of the same old-boys club. He feels that not only is Arafat corrupt, but that the whole Palestinian National Authority is as well, as must be completely dismembered and replaced with a transparent democracy. He feels that Arafat has done much good for Palestine, but is a warrior at heart, and must step aside to make room for the new generation, with ideas which bettered suited to the current situation. As is obvious, he stresses the symbiotic relationship between Sharon and Arafat, the Israeli Hawks, and the PA: Each of them bases their power on the existence of the other. He strongly feels that the Palestinian people are the ultimate losers in all of this. He repeatedly stressed the need for doing away with the PA, and replacing them with a democracy. He feels that the other Arab states have a vested interest in maintaining the PA, out of fear that a fledgling Palestinian democracy may fuel democratic fervour in their own countries.

While I typed this, the power went out likely due to the rainstorms outside. Electricity in the West Bank is pretty flakey. In Yasuf, they actually only get electricity for 6 hours a day. When I visited Nader yesterday, he told me that Yasuf had been without power for 3 days: Their generator had broken down, and they had to send a part to tel-aviv for repair.

While I waited for power to resume, I paid a visit to a fellow I met on my last visit to Rammallah. His name is Mosa, and he works in an Ice cream shop. We had a tea, and chatted. I told him of my plans to travel and document. He told me that the Gazans are the nicest of the Palestinians, but that I should be very careful. He asked me why I didn't have a camera. When I told him I left it in a cab last week, he was quite concerned... he told me he knew many cabbies, and could possibly help me. We went to the cab stand nearby.. He talked to all of the cabbies, but no dice. I really appreciated the effort, though.

Wherever I go, I am overwhelmed by Palestinian hospitality... As well, they are chronic tea-drinkers, and some days, it's hard to walk 10 feet without being invited in for tea... As a chronic tea drinker myself, this works well for me, but I can only accept a fraction of the invitations given.

I'm Feeling better... I see now that I am much better off on my own. The ISM timetable was pretty hectic, and there was little time to stop and smell the Jasmine. I wasn't really getting the variety of experiences and exposure that I crave, either. I called Gordon, the ISM west bank coordinator, and told him I didn't see myself being redeployed with ISM, and that I've decided travel the WB and document what I see. He said we should still get together and chat. I don't know what he has in mind. Perhaps he's hoping to integrate my plans into his own efforts. In any case, I like the fellow, so what the heck. I told him I'll call him when I get to Jerusalem.

Today, I'm looking foward to getting some good sound captures of the evening's skirmishes, and having a few beers at Stones, and finding out more about the people there.

Thank goodness I am a fast typist.

2002-10-30T16:43:00.000-08:00

WASHINGTON (CNN) -- Canada issued a travel advisory this week urging Canadian citizens born in Iran, Iraq, Libya, Sudan and Syria to consider avoiding travel to the United States.

http://www.cnn.com/2002/TRAVEL/10/30/canada.us.travel/index.html

-Jason

2002-10-30T00:34:00.000-08:00

Here's a relevant article on the olive harvest from today's Ha'aretz:

http://www.haaretzdaily.com/hasen/pages/ShArt.jhtml?itemNo=224957&contrassID=2&subContrassID=1&sbSubContrassID=0&listSrc=Y

2002-10-30T00:09:00.000-08:00

Well, my plans are presently up in the air... The ISM coordinator for west bank wants me to come to Bethlehem for a couple of days to chill out, and perhaps be redeployed with ISM, but I'm eager to hit to the road on my own... Where I want to go is mostly northern west bank, and Bethlehem is in southern west bank... I'm thinking that maybe there is value in what he says, though.. And I do trust his judgement, so I think I will make my way to Bethlehem, even though it's far from my ultimate destinations.

Spent two hours at a bus stop this morning. Aparrently, every morning, between 7am and 8am, the Israeli Army sets up temporary checkpoints and closures all over the region, in order to make it difficult for people to get to work. I called a cabbie who's number I have, and he said he was unable to leave his villiage. Even after 8am, it's hard to get a ride, as all of the cabs and busses are full. While I waited at the bus stop, with a few internationals (going to neighboring town to pick olives) and a few Palestinians (Hoping to go to work), a burly settler jumped out of a jeep and started shouting at us in hebrew. A few internationals tried to talk to him, but he continued screaming in hebrew, making violent gestures of fish punching and kicking at the air. After a few minutes, soldiers from a nearby checkpoint came over to see the ruckus... they talked to him, and eventually he got in his jeep and left.

On the bus, I met a Palestinian man who wanted me to send a message to Canada: Palestine thinks well of Canadians, and they are very grateful to the many Canadians who have come over to help Palestinians.

-I've lost my mini-maglite and my Lonely Planet guide. I've got a spare mag, but the loss of the Lonely Planet guide is a hard one... it was an indispensible compendium of maps and advice.

-When I left Deir Istiya, the family I picked with gave me and Lee a bottle of olive oil each to take back! I was very thrilled at this.

-Also when I left, their son Nasser, a 20 yr old Electrical Engineering student asked me that if I returned to Palestine, could I bring him a solar powered battery charger, like the one I had. It was pretty well a no-brainer to give him the one I had... he seemed quite pleased with it.

-On a closing note, here's an ISM report from Nablus:

October 28 2002
Nablus Area

On October 27, 2002, Ahmed Jadallah, 21 years old, a very popular
freedom-fighter known and respected by everybody in the old city of
Nablus, and Alaa Mefleh, 25 years old, a very quiet man, another
freedom figther, were assassinated by Israeli special forces near
the Old City this afternoon while sitting in a car. A big funeral
was held for them this evening. Nablus people feel incredibly sad
while talking about the possibility of a new invasion of the city
because of today's attack in the settlement of Ariel (the man was
from Nablus).

We, Palestinians and Internationals, spent the last week in Yanoon,
a small village near Nablus, working together with Israeli peace
activists, helping the people to pick olives and encouraging the
villagers to return back to their homes after they had
been driven out of Yanoon by settlers. Yanoon is a great example of
what we can achieve as nonviolent activists.

Nablus was quiet at that time, except for the destruction of three
houses. People seemed worried about the unusually 'normal' situation
and were awaiting a major attack or even a new incrasion of their
city. The IOF today fully lived up to these expectations by sending
special forces disguised as Palestinian civilians in cars,
assassinating two people in cold blood and injuring one.

Right now the city is quiet ...There are many fighters in the
streets of the Old City and people are expecting something because
there are rumors going around about the Israeli's Army's intention
to demolish houses in the city and the camps . Nablus will be
targeted and the entire civilian population will be collectively
punished for today's attack in Ariel. The Army will come in great
numbers to attack these innocent people, meanwhile the three
incidents of settler violence today (4 Internationals beat in
Yanoon, 6 Internationals forced to run from stone throwing in Beit
Furik, and Palestinians attacked in Awarta) will go unnoticed. The
Israeli Army knows nothing of justice and Sharon's "most moral Army
in the world" will take another step in the wrong direction.

------------------------------------------------------

2002-10-29T07:34:00.000-08:00

Sounds of gunfire just came from outside of the building I'm in. Aparrently the Jewish settlers of Ariel, on the hill above, were firing down... The boys near me do not seem to concerned.. instead, they laugh. I imagine it's unlikely the settlers will hit anyone at this distance.

Without a doubt, I've heard more gunfire in two weeks than I heard in my ~three years in the reserves.

It's worth mentioning that I've not seen a single gun among the Palestinians.

2002-10-29T06:55:00.000-08:00

Well, things the tear gas day worked out well... it wasn't the most pleasant way to start the day, but was a relatively minor inconvenience all considered. The villiagers are familiar with the gas: In fact, Nafez estimates that some of the children, between ages 5-10, had been gassed 20-30 times already. This is not only in the orchards, but also in the villiages, where the Israeli army has launched tear gas grenade many times. Incidentally, the Israeli army uses an obsolete form of tear gas in the West Bank, one that is known to be mutagenic, carcinogenic, and have effects similar to nerve gas. Increases in birth defects have been tied to exposure to Israeli Tear gas.

After the gassing, I asked Nafez the frank question: Why would he bring children to the Orchards, with such danger present? He replied that the orchards were no safer than the villiage, where the army regularly shoots and gasses. He added that to modify his life out of fear would be to succumb to the intimidation of the settlers and the army.

The rest of the day passed without incident.

As Jason mentioned, the day was a nice chance to get to know my host family's members. I mentioned that one member was imprisioned for 36 days and tortured. I'd like to go into more detail on this: For 8 hours a day, he was matained in the back-breaking "Banana" position. For the rest of the time, he was confined in a space 1/2 meter square. There was not enough room to sit or lay, so he had to sleep in a squatted position.
I find it incredible that Bilan can still move and function normally, much less pick olives. Many have not been so lucky, suffering permanent disabilities or paralysis as a result of such treatment.

That evening, I met another fellow, "moza". He is a good natured, handsome lad of 20. I would not have suspected that he had already spent 6 months in an Israeli prision, for the crime of being active in the the Palestinian communist party. Hiking into Salfeet today, I met another lad (~20), named Basal, who has crushed disks in his back, as a result of a stay in an Israeli prision. Due to the language barrier I was not able to find out more.

I know it's cathartic and healing for the Palestinian's to share their individual stories and pain, however, they weigh heavily upon my heart, and contribute to the overall sense of weariness I feel.

It seems to me that most of the adult Palestinian men I've met have either been shot by settlers or military, or have been tortured in an Israeli prision. While we're on the topic, it's worth mentioning that Israel is one of the few countries in the world where torture is not only practiced, *it is legal*.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day started well, however, Early afternoon, we were notified that there had been a homicide bombing outside of Ariel Settlement, which had resulted in the deaths of 3 soldiers. Fearing settler/military reprisals, we hastened to pack up our gear and leave the orchards. As we packed up, we were notified that 4 Internationals in Yanun had been seriously injured in an attack by settlers. All were hospitalized, one in critical condition. Most were elderly.

Arriving back in the villiage, I was told that there were farmers stranded in the Wadi-Qana Nature reserve, which contains many Palestinian orchards. A checkpoint had just been set up outside of the reserve, and an international escort was required to ensure their safe and timely passage through the checkpoint. A man named Dawoud with a mini-bus picked me up at my host's house, and we headed out to Wadi-Qana.

We drove on the highway for 15 minutes, until we encountered a checkpoint. We stopped the minibus 30 feet away, and one at a time, the soldiers beckoned Dawoud and I over to show our papers. The soldiers were cautious, but civil. The asked me where I lived, and what I was doing. I told them I was in a nearby villiage picking olives. They raised their eyebrows, but let us pass.

The turnoff to Wadi-Qana nature reserve was only half a K after the checkpoint. At the entrace to the valley, I saw a small pumping station pumping a foul looking reddish-brown liquid into the stream that feeds the valley. I was instantly outraged, and asked Dawoud what it was. He informed me that it was sewage from the Jewish settlements that border Wadi-Qana, and has rendered much of the citrus fruit grown in the Valley inedible.

We drove deeper into the valley, parallel to the stream. The black "water" was covered in green slime and algae. Unnatural looking vegetation grew at it's edge. It looked like a minor-scale ecological disaster, the kind off of magazine covers from the 70's and 80's. The more I saw, the angrier I got. Eventually, I shouted for Dawoud to stop, and I grabbed an empty pop bottle, intent on taking a "water sample". I didn't know what I'd do with it, or who could test it, but I felt I needed some kind of proof of this massive ecological desecration. Misunderstanding my intention, Dawoud shouted "No, No, this is not water! This is not water!". A moment later, he understood, and told me we didn't have time, and he'd bring me a sample later.

(From what I have since learned, In the past, Wadi-Qana reserve was formerly a nexus of Palestinian agriculture in the Nablus region, but the sewage has rendered much of the citrus grown there inedible. Some produce from the area is still good. Aparrently the dumping has also destroyed 2 large springs which previously supplied local Palestinian villiages - Now they must buy their water from Israel. I was intent on returning to take photgraphs, but aparrently the destruction of Wadi-Qana has already been well documented. More info can be found at www.arij.org .)

We picked up 5 Pal men, 2 Pal women, their equipment, and their olives. It was a tight fit into the minbus. As we left Wadi-Qana, and turned onto the main highway, frantic soldiers ran at us from the checkpoint ahead, pointing guns, and waving for us to pull over. These were different than the ones that had processed us 45 minutes previously on our way in. Dawoud pulled over, and all of the men got out. We were told to line up by the roadside. The soldiers eyed me curiously. Normally, I conduct myself civilly and respectfully to the soldiers, but I was still seething over what I had seen in Wadi-Qana. One asked me what I was doing in the westbank. I told him I was there to pick olives. I asked him what he was doing in the west bank. He scowled, patted his M-16, and said "this".

A frowning, sunglassed wearing soldier told me to ask the women to get out. I told him that I didn't speak arabic, but that they understood hebrew, and that he would be better speaking to them directly. He said he didn't give a fuck what I did or didn't speak, and that he didn't want to talk to them.

An officer approached. He was trying to understand how this Canadian ended up in a van of olive pickers. He asked if I was Muslim - noI replied . He asked if I had relatives nearby - no, I replied. He asked if these were my friends - Newfound friends, I replied. I told him that I came from Canada to pick olives with Palestinians. His face lit up in revalation :"Ah, you have come to show solidarity with the Palestinians!", he exclaimed. I replied "No, I have come to learn". "Learn what", he asked. "I've come to learn why people here are shooting at peasant farmers". He gave a disgusted look, and turned to the previous sunglass wearing soldier. A dialogue ensued in hebrew, with some laughter. They walked away.

(Later on, one of the Pals present related the exchange for me: The officer said that I was a foolish and stupid man. He joked that Canada's rich support Israel, but their rubbish comes to support the Palestinians)

We waited for 15 minutes while the minbus was searched. While I waited, I did some casual exercises, stretched, and yawned. This was mostly just a demonstration of how relaxed I was. Normally, I wouldn't resort to such pettiness, the events of the last hour had slightly undermined my self-discipline. Finally, we were told all was ok, and we could go.

As I climbed into the van, the officer aproached me and asked me if I understood why we were being seached. I replied "A terrible terrible thing happened earlier today, and I am very sorry". He nodded agreeingly, and gave clearance for us to pass.

(As a sidenote, following increased tensions after bombings, I make a point of expressing my condolences to soldiers in confrontational situations - I find this has a dual purpose of decreasing tension, and of increasing my own credibility, ultimately making it easier for them to talk to me. I can sense that other ISMers disapprove of the (usually) civil manner in which I talk to soldiers, but I will explore this in more depth later).

We arrived at the ourskirts of Deir Istiya about 15 minutes later, around 4pm. As we turned onto the main road, Karin called me and frantically explained that curfew had just been declared in the region, and that we must get indoors immediately. Unfortunately, I had to cut her short, as two Israeli miltiary jeeps stopped to form an ad-hoc roadblock in the road ahead , 30 feet away. Commands barked at us in hebrew from a jeep's top-mounted bullhorn. Dawoud gestured that we were to get out. We all got out. The soldiers stayed in their jeeps. More commands barked. Dawoud approached the jeep alone (One at a time, as per standard operating procedure), with hands before him, presenting his papers. I bent down to fix my shoelace. In an instant, a soldier came out of the back of the Jeep, grabbed Dawoud, and threw him into the back of the jeep. As I jumped up and I ran at the jeeps, both floored the accellerators and sped away. Stunned and speechless, I called Karin, and explained what had happened.

A few minutes later, it was determined that he had been beaten, and dumped a few kilometers outside of the city. It was determined that Lee and I would take a local's car to grab him. There was some confusion and debate as to which car, who would go, etc etc... there was also some difficulty in picking up Karin. By the time it was all sorted out, we were notified that Dawoud had already been picked up. We saw him getting dropped off at his Minibus - He was obviously beaten and shaken, and hastened to get in his bus and get home.

The rest of the evening was without incident, although I was quite distraught about what had happened with Dawoud. The next morning, I had hoped to use the municipal building's computer to access the internet to update my blog, however, I was informed that the military had cut the villiages phone line's (again). In the afternoon, I heard third hand that Dawoud was quite disappointed with my inability to assist him. I also heard a similar sentiment expressed by a local woman, Inez, who helps coordinate the assignment of internationals to farmers. Until this time, it hadn't ocurred to me that I had done anything wrong. As I though about it, I become increasingly distraught, depressed, and saddened. This combined with my existing emotional weariness to form a major headache. I felt like 10 lbs of shit in a 5 lbm bag. I went home and took a nap. Woke up, had dinner, shower went back to bed. I wanted to stay up later, as this is my last night with the Mansour family, whom I had grown quite fond, but I was overwhelmed with grief and weariness.

As of this point, I concede, that after repeated battering, my "shields are down".

-

As for today:

Lee left first thing this morning. He's going to spend a few days in Tel Aviv, and then return to Canada. Due to logistical difficulties in assignment to families in neighboring villiages, the other 3 of us from Dier Istiya were given the day off. I had to go to the IWPS office in Hares to take care of some administrative matters.

Karin wanted to talk to me about several things on her mind. She is concerned about my tentative plans to change regions, and that I appear to be more interested in town-hopping than in picking olives. She's also concerned that I do not show enough "Solidarity" with Palestinians, and that although she appreciates my attempts at objectivity, it may cause Palestinians to doubt my devotion to them. All in all, she says, she does not think I am a good fit with ISM. I told her I agreed with her, and that if this was a 6 month engagement, it would be worth reconsidering the arrangement, but for two more weeks, we might was well make it work.

(There also was some concern raised over the manner in which I approached a hostile settler last week... I told him there was no need to be enemies, and that we could be friends. Two coordinators have voiced concern that such outreach would not be well perceived by the Pals. Truly, the offer was not sincere, but intended to defuse/disarm the settler. Karin did mention that the concern was from the internationals, not from the Palestinians. Ultimately, I agree with the nature of the concern, but not the substance: indications suggest that the Palestinians are quite fond of me. Although I never lose sight of my uItimate goal of protecting Pals, I often employ "softer" approach than my more radical colleagues, who are very keen on confrontation and debate. All in all, I am quite indignant that my "solidarity" is called into question, as I've been doing Pal activism before most of these left wing radicals could find the West Bank on the map. )

The chat was altogether exploratory and amiable, and I left Deir Istya for Salfit, where I have internet access. I hitched to Keifl Hareth, but had trouble making a connexion from Keifl Hareth, so just decided to hike the remaining 4 kilometers to Salfeet. I passed a checkpoint at the entrance to Ariel settlement (the mother ship). The guards were convinced I did not know where I was going, and kept trying to point me on the road to Tappuah settlement. I bid them bye, and crossed the barb wire and roadblock to the (unused and unusable) highway to Salfit. While walking along this road, I reflected upon what Karen had said, about my desire to Town-hop, and although I did not see it before, I see that she is right. At this point, I crave a variety of experience that I am not getting olive picking. I want expose myself to different manifestations of the occupation, that I may document them. I am not likely to get this variety picking olives in rural areas.

At this point, I've resolved to stick with ISM until the end of the week, at which point I am going to go off on my own. I want to see the recently bulldozed town of Jenin, the "Wall" being built around Qualquilya, and I want to visit the Gaza City (or concentration camp, as it is less politely known).

Anyhow, much more to say, but hands are tired, and I must eat.

Jason -> turns out that the memeticcandiru.com hostname is still registered for another 2 weeks, so this is not the problem... The server must have died. Do you mind checking it?

2002-10-26T11:11:00.000-07:00

I am relaying this update to you all from Dan as he does not have internet access at the moment.
The points at the bottom are as close to Dans word as possible but you will need to wait for Dan to edit it for the definitive version.
-Jason

Yesturday the rest of the day when relatively peacefully.

Dan talked to the family a lot .. 3 brothers their wives and the brothers father. The father
was shot thought the calf 2 years ago by settlers and is brave to return. One of the brothers
Mafez splits his time between being practicing dentistry and being mayor of Dar Islia, he lost
his right eye 2 years ago when a settler through a grenade at his car as he was on his way home
from work. Another brother Bilan was detained buy the Israeli army for 36 days during witch he
endured ongoing torture. This is his punishment for belonging to an anti occupation student group.

Tear gassing and tank incursions were a daily occurrence 6 months ago and have the villagers have shown Dan where walls are marked
and have been destroyed buy the tanks.

Dan fixed Hafize's computer and he was thrilled after it being out of commission for a long time.

For Dan the hardest part of everything is seeing what these people go through.

Dan feels the day will be peaceful as it has started off that way.

-Jason

2002-10-25T13:59:00.000-07:00

This is a great article detailing current events

Excerpt from the article on haaretzdaily.com

- Former Chief Rabbi, Mordehai Eliahu, recently gave permission for settlers to pick olives from groves owned by Palestinians. On Wednesday, Eliahu visited the illegal Havat Gilad outpost, where he claimed that since the land is the historical birthright of the People of Israel, the Palestinians had planted their trees on land that did not belong to them.

"If someone plants a tree on my land, then the tree and the fruit it bears are mine," he said. Quoting the scriptures, Eliahu added that, "'You shall inherit the labor of the nations' - that is, if [other] nations do something in the Land of Israel, the fruits of their toil will be inherited [by the People of Israel]." -

2002-10-24T23:22:00.000-07:00

I am relaying this update to you all from Dan as he does not have internet access at the moment.
The points at the bottom are as close to Dans word as possible but you will need to wait for Dan to edit it for the definitive version.

--Jason

The Israeli army drove by the farmers and Dan and tear gassed them. Dan called me in the middle of this and he sounded like he was in a lot
of pain, breathing iraticly and horking/spitting often. Then I listened to an Apache helicopter land meters from my brother, it dropped some troops off and left. When things calmed down
Dan and I chatted a while, the following are a couple of points I remembered from our conversation.

While taking a lunch break the Israeli soldiers decided it was a good time to practice shooting very close to the workers,
they do this to make the Palestinians and internationals nervous.

The other day he just about did not make it out of Rumallah before curfew and was almost stuck inside the city.

The Israeli Army regularly flies helicopters over the village at night to disrupt sleep.

-Jason

2002-10-23T08:06:00.000-07:00

I'd like to ask something of my readership:

When you have some spare time, please go to the resources section of the site,
and read just one of the primers on the Israel/Palestine conflict.

I'm risking life and limb in the hopes of creating a greater awareness of
the truth of what is going on here, and why it is going on.

http://www.memeticcandiru.com/~palmon/resources.html

2002-10-23T08:00:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm pissed off now. Having rocks thrown at me and being shot at did not faze me, but now I'm pissed.

I've just returned from the rubble piles known as "Arafat's compound". There's been much press about the destruction of "Arafat's compound", with the implicit suggestion that it was some kind of military headquarters. To the contrary, what I saw was once a cluster of administrative buildings. Some of their signs are still intact, such as the one that reads "Palestinian Housing Authority".

In reality, what was called "Arafat's compound", was really the central administration buildings of the Palestinian Authority.

The destruction of them is comparable to the destruction of Canadian parliment, or Calgary's city hall. In this case, however, it was the sole nexus of a budding country struggling to build infrastructure and autonomy.

The area was about the size of four large city blocks... there were about 9 large buildings, each about 6 stories high... now, it's mostly rubble. A couple of buildings are still standing, and only a section of the main building. There were sandbags in all of the windows. Constructure workers are repairing what is left. I've uploaded new pics to the pictures section (Jason, can you please chmod a+rx ~palmon/pics/* for me?).

Of course, as it does everything, Israel justifies these attacks in the name of security...

Truly, it's just a small part of the ongoing war against Palestinian economy and infrastructure, with the eventual goal of driving them from their land.

2002-10-23T03:24:00.000-07:00

BTW, here's a news item about my stoning on the 16th... It reminds me of the humorous moment when the settlers rained rocks down upon us, and said "We come in peace!".

[Yasuf, West Bank] 16-17 October -- This morning, villagers from Yasuf and 13 internationals from the International Solidarity Movement (ISM) walked to the olive orchards located near the Israeli settlement, Tapuakc. On the way to the olive orchards we heard gunshots, and soon people were running toward us, warning us that the settlers were shooting-from a nearby hilltop. We internationals headed toward the gunshots and made visual contact with a handful of settlers. They stood on the hill above us with their machine guns, shooting over the heads of the Palestinians harvesting in the fields. We tried to speak to them, saying, "We are here in peace." They said, "We are here in peace too," then threw rocks at us and fired shots over our heads.

Lee and I will be leaving Ramallah soon, but I hope to get some fotos of the destroyed PA offices on the way out.

2002-10-23T03:01:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm in Ramallah, with Lee. Lee is from Edmonton. His grandafather, Louis Schmitteroth, visited the West Bank last summer with ISM. As far as I can tell, Louis is pretty famous and loved around here, by activists and pals alike... He's 77. He was also very helpful to me by offering advice and guidance before I came, and answerig my many questions.

Rammalah, is a bustling city... a mixture of old and modern. In some areas, there are buildings turned to rubble by Israeli shelling or missile attacks. There's a massive roadblock outside of the city, meaning we had to take a Cab from Yasuf, get off, walk a kilometer past the roadblock, and grab another cab at the outskirts of ramallah.

For the sake of clarification, a roadblock is an Israeli-created physical barrier, usually concrete or rubble, whereas a checkpoint is a military access control point, at which vehicles are stopped, passports check, and questions asked. Some are permanent, and some are ad-hoc, coming and going.

I'd like to make a couple of cultural notes:

1) I noticed in Deir Istiya that they have an affection for clocks... Each room in every house had at least one, sometimes 3, and rarely were they working! Yes, ornamental clocks as decorations.

2) The incredible hospitality we receive everywhere is charming, but can be a drain in time... everwhere Lee and I go, people want us to stop and have a coffee with them. Sometimes I do (As I did last night with a couple of shopkeepers in Salfit), but most of the time I/we must politely decline, citing the amount of work to do... everyone is understanding and gracious.

3) An amusing quirk: From what I've seen, if you ask someone (pal) for directions, and they don't know the answer, they'll just guess, rather than give you nothing. I've no doubt this comes from the best of intentions, however, it's lead me on many wild goose chases. No real inconveniences have been caused, and I find it a bit amusing.

There's a bit of contention among the ISMers in Yasuf: We work in tandem with an organization called the International Woman's Peace Service, which has been working in the region for some time, and there is a fear that the more experienced IWPS/ISM members are assuming leadership roles. Many of my colleagues are anarchists and communists, and resent the fact that a defacto hierarchy is developing. Although they appreciate the experience of some of the IWPS/ISM members, they want to keep things as consensus driven as possible. Meetings, Meetings, Meetings were held yesterday to resolve this "important" matter. Thankfully, I was excused to go to neighboring Salfit for Internetting.

As an aside, I think it's natural for systems to self-organize, and for order to develop out of chaos.

Personally, I'm happy to defer to the experienced people, and find this whining a little pathetic.. a waste of energy considering the bigger issues at hand...

The first time I was in Salfit a few days ago, I met a fellow at the internet Cafe named mudhat who offered to give me a lift back to Yasuf... He seemed ok, so I thought "What the hell". I was in for a hell of a ride... Palestinian drivers are characteristically agressive, but he was a little more than most... it was quite an off-road rollercoaster ride across the rough terrain. He told me he was a Karate instructor and former PA policeman. He's a pretty built tough looking dude. The "Horn" on his pickup is a police siren. All in all, he's obviously a pretty intense fellow. It was definitely an exciting backroads trip, full of thrills, chills, and close calls, but we finally got to Yasuf safely.

I ran into Mudhat in Salfit again last night, and got a ride back to my Host's house in Yasuf... My Pal friends were in the driveway... When he saw them, he sped up, and they dashed out of the way with milliseconds to spare... I actually thought he had hit Mahmoud! We got out, and there was lots of laughing and handshaking... Aparrently the well know Mudhat... They thought it was hilarious that I had caught a ride back with him... they kept repeating "He's crazy! He's Crazy! Sometimes he wrestles us, and breaks our bones!".

I left Calgary with a persistent cough that wouldn't go away... It is getting increasinly worse, and is impacting my lung capacity... My peers are really noticing it... My days and nights are consumed by violent hacking coughs that won't go away. My doctor diagnosed "Rhinitis", and prescribed "Flonase". It hasn't done shit... so I suspect it may be Bronchitis due to lung infection. I've got some antibiotics (Ciprofloxacin) for emergencies, but want to save them for Nablus, where I may REALLY need them. Luckily, I was able to pick up more cipro today in Ramallah, without a prescription, for about $25 US. Hopefully it will help.

There was a serious incident in Nablus region yesteryday, in which a Palestinian was kidnapped and tortured by settlers ("God's people", remember?) I've appended the ISM update below:

------

October 22,2002
Awartha, Nablus Area
IMMEDIATE PRESS RELEASE

Yesterday October 21,2002 a 28 year old Palestinian male was
kidnapped by Israeli Colonists from nearby Itmar Colony,considered
to be a haven for one of the most violent Colonists on Palestinian
territory.

They kidnapped him while he was harvesting his family's olive groves
alone. They ordered him down from the tree and began to viciously
beat him by kicking him and punching him all over his body. The
Itmar colonists then proceeded to bind his legs and arms and then
took him to an undisclosed location where they continued to torture
him by melting plastic pipes all over his body as he lay blindfolded
and bound by hands and ankles.

The Palestinian man escaped and was found by local fellow villagers
who took him to the Nablus hospital known as Rafidya where he is in
critical condition. He is suffering from burns and broken bones from
his tragic ordeal with the Itmar Colonists.

2002-10-22T11:26:00.000-07:00

Well, it appears I'm in good company. In the last few days, I've been honored to meet both writer Israel Shamir, and Journalist Amira Hass. Israel is a very sunny, amiable, and intelligent fellow. He spent the night at the place I am staying, and for the record, I'd like to state that his snores are louder than a Merkava tank.

I'm only a week into my "tour", and feel like I've been here for a year. Palestine is a damn depressing place. I admire the spirit of these people to endure the bullshit they put up with. Unlike myself, they have no choice but to make the best of it. I can see that their strength lies in their families and in their land. I know this sounds corny, but it's very tangible to me. It would be easy to consider Palestine a bleak pile of rubble that god has forgotten, however, entering a Palestinian home and seeing the warmth and joy of their family life, you know there is still much goodness left in this tired, tired land.

The last few days have been relatively normal, at least by West Bank standards (remember, those were the words of the soldier to me the other day - Although they weren't intended as such, I find them amusing for their disingenuousness).

Yesterday, we had planned to pick olives, despite the fact the army told us we would not be allowed. They also informed us we would be allowed on Tuesday. It's just another manifestation of the arbitrary and gratuitous control exercised over the Palestinian farmers.
Unfortunately, it rained heavily in the morning, so harvesting was called off.

Instead, we were bussed to the villiage of Yanun, where there had been settler trouble. Aparrently there are whole fields/orchards the settlers have taken over. We were accompanied by a group named "Rabbis for human rights", lead by a fellow named Aric Asherman. Aric is aparrently a Rabbi. Aric appears to be a bit of a media hound, and although I find this a bit annoying, I admit this is a good thing... Aric is fairly media savvy, and is skilled at getting the journalists to come out.

To get to their fields, Yanun's farmers must take a narrow road through a narrow "pass" between two overhanging embankments of rock. Two years ago, settlers blocked this road with rubble, and as farmer traffic backed up, the settlers rained gunfire down upon them, injuring many. They have not attempted these fields since. Yesterday, a contingent of 15 internationals and 15 Israelis accompanied these farmers to this area. There were a few armed settlers there plowing the field, and a few groups picking olives. We were blocked by the military, who told us we would not be permitted to go into the area. As we waited, a shouting match ensued between the settlers and the farmers. I asked someone to translate for me. Aparrently, the farmer asked why they were stealing his land, to which the settler replied "God gave us this land". The farmer replied "My father gave me this land".

For a while we milled about, watching the soldiers and settlers. During this time, I met a 20something Palestinian named Adnan. I introduced Adnan to a couple of activists standing nearby. He asked them where they were from. When Danny replied that he was from Israel, Adnan grinned, and warmly slapped him on the shoulder saying "Wonderful... that makes us cousins!".

After some discussion, it was decided we would continue on to the olive groves, despite the military's warning of mass arrest if we did so. We did so, and the army did not intervene. This is becoming a pretty standard drill. We picked olives for several hours, and then left en masse, without incident.

As we left the region, our bus passed a line of 15 Palestinians waiting in line at a checkpoint outside the villiage of Hawalta. Knowing that Pals are often made to wait unnecessarily for hours at checkpoints, It was quickly decided to stop and help them. According to the Pals, they have been waiting 3 hours. According to the soldiers, they had been waiting 3 minutes. It's hard to know who to believe, although the Pals were obviously agitated. On of the Israelis with us speculated that truth was likely somewhere in the middle. We joined them in line. After 10 minutes or so, we heard the now-familar sound of gunfire, very close by. I saw impact-puffs of dust where rounds were hitting a nearby mound of dirt. When we asked the soldiers what was going on, they replied that the checkpoint guards were "practicing". It seemed mighty informal for a practice session. Truly, this was just an exercise in muscle flexing and intimidation. I have no doubt it was done for the "benefit" of the pals waiting in line and the internationals. We made it clear to the soldiers we weren't leaving until the Pals were had been processed. The soldiers began processing them one by one. Fifteen minutes later, the last pal passed through the checkpoint, and we got on our bus back to Yasuf.

A delightful dinner was waiting for us all in Yasuf... It was delicious. It's obvious that the Palestinians of Yasuf are very fond of me, as I have noticed, as well as several of my peers. One of our coordinators observed that they are "Quite taken by me". I think it is a combination of my spiritedness and openness that they like. The other activists aren't as open or forward as I am towards the Palestinians... Our ISM training also included "sensitivity and etiquette" training in regards to the Palestinians, and I can sense that most of my colleagues walk on eggshells around them as far as interpersonal relations go. The training painted them as ultra-conservative and etiquette-bound people, which certainly isn't the case - at least in Yasuf. I've pretty well tossed the ISM sensitivity training, and gone with good-old-fashioned courtesy and goodwill, and it has worked out really well. There have been several humorous incidents which have endeared the locals to me, but the most significant of which was my dialogue with the settler we've called "Brooklyn". Several times, groups of Palestinian men ask me to "Repeat what the settler said when you said 'my name is dan, I am from Canada".. at which point I reply "Fuck you Dan, Fuck Canadians", which they seem to find pretty darned funny. THey don't appear to tire of this recounting. This afternoon, two fellows were coming to Salfit, so I caught a lift with them... I didn't know them, but heard them discussing this in Arabic. It went something like this "blah blah blah blah my name is Dan I'm from Canada blah blah blah fuck you Dan, fuck Canadians", at which point they burst into laughter... The story of this little incident has become apocryphal. I really can't see what they see in this little story, but darn it, they SURE love it. It's amusing, but I'm at a loss to explain the mileage it's getting.

Anyhow, on to today's happenings:

We constantly get the run around from the Israeli Army. Ideally, we'd like military protection against settlers, but we'd settle for non-interference. We were yesterday informed by the Military that the farmers would not be permitted to use the "Agricultural road", a dirty road that links Yasuf to its orchards today. The road is 1/2 kilometer in length, and is used by no one but the villiagers. There was no reason given, it was just another arbitrary exertion of control. After negotiations between local villiage leadership, local international leadership, and local military commanders, it was agreed that they would use a bulldozer to unblock the villiage's main road, allowing the farmers an alternate (longer) route to their fields. The Miltary said they would be replacing the roadblock in 3 days.

I know the above paragraph makes absolutely no sense, but I am relating the truth: The miltary had declared one road off-limits, but would temporarily unblock another road, although they would re-block it three days later. I'm still having trouble getting my head around this. Really, all I can do is accept it as another manifestation of the arbitary exertion of control over the palestinian farmers: Part of the ongoing reminder who the boss is.

We showed up at the roadblock at 6:30 am, to see it's scheduled removal. We were surprised to see only a few soldiers, and no earthmover. It was explained to us that that the roadblock would not be removed. As we watched, a tank moved into position on the agricultural road nearby. After a few minutes, more soldiers showed up at our roadblock. Susan (our "team lead") asked the officer in charge why the military was reneging upon the agreement we had made. The officer replied that there had been a bombing in Israel yesterday. We asked if the bomber originated from Yasuf, and the officer said "no, no olive harvesting is allowed in the west bank today". Susan pointed out that this was collective punishment, which the soldier replied "Yes, so what?".

[Collective punishment is one of Israel's many violations of the fourth Geneva Convention, of which Israel is a signatory]

After some discussion, it was decided to attempt the olive groves in the hill beside the roadblock. A few Pals went down with their donkeys, and accompanied by internationals. We picked until noon. At noon we were informed that the Knesset (Israeli Parliment) had lifted the olive harvest ban, at which point plans were made to try the agricultural road to the next valley which is called the south face". Shortly after, we had the assurance of a local police chielf that we would be allowed to pick in the area. We left our farmers we had been paired up with, and grouped near the top of the argricultural road, about a kilometer away. As we did this, 3 soldiers flanked us, went to the olive groves we had just left, and started harassing the farmers. We raced back, in time to see the terrified farmers packing up their things. The soldiers had told them they had minutes to leave, or they would be arrested. We helped the farmers pack up as the soldiers shouted at them. These soldiers pretended not to speak english, and took obvious pleasure in their work. I told them in english that what they were doing was unkind, unnecessary, and they should be ashamed. Until now, most of the soldiers I had met had been either professional, civil, or apologetic about their work, but these ones were complete jerks. Later, up on the hill in discussions with soldiers, it was evident that they had not been informed of the Knesset's decision. Although one officer had more or less agreed with our accusation of collective punishment, another officer now told us that the harvest had been stopped because they couldn't spare the manpower to protect us. Ironically, more manpower had been involved today to stop us than had been deployed on previous days to "protect" us.

There is a growing frustration with the military: There are frequent "Misunderstandings", and agreements made with local Israel officials are not being filtered to the appropriate people in the police/military. We're really not sure if this is incompetence or conspiracy, but we do know we really can't count on anything that is agreed upon or negotiated: It changes from hour to hour, from person to person. I can't help but think of the words of the soldier the other day "It's just a game".

Personally, I'm of the opinion that the Palestinians should proceed with harvesting, under the protection of internationals, regardless of whether or not they receive military permission or protection. As one of Yasuf's leaders mentioned, they shouldn't be relying on others to "give them the keys" to their own orchards and fields. Not all of the farmers share the bold stance of this leader.

I've noticed that whenever I encounter people in other villiages who don't know me, they assume I am Israeli. It is refreshing that they are courteous and hospitable to me. I am confident that a soldier or settler would not be extended any courtesy, and would likely be killed. All the same, I am heartened that the locals recognize and respect the difference.

Tomorrow I have a "day off" to go to Ramallah, on of the largest cities in the West Bank. This is a necessary trip for me, as I have no money, and in face owe a few of my colleagues. The few bank machines I have gotten to default to "Checking account", instead of allowing me to choose "savings account". Barring that, I hope to get Jay to Western Union me some money. I will be in Ramallah from 11pm to 3am Calgary time... (Jason, please locate a 24 hr western union and standby.. I'm Desperate!!)

May peace be with you all...

2002-10-21T23:21:00.000-07:00

Tooo tired to comment in detail but these are links to news reports about Yusef and the current affairs.

http://www.jpost.com/servlet/Satellite?pagename=JPost/A/JPArticle/ShowFull&cid=1033392625638

http://www.nytimes.com/2002/10/08/international/middleeast/08WEST.html?ex=1034740800&en=2f3ef2ef4dd15191&ei=5062&partner=GOOGLE

http://www.poica.org/casestudies/yasuf/

-Jason

2002-10-20T09:10:00.000-07:00

Well, here I sit in an internet cafe in the town of Saflit. It is the largest town in the Saflit region, where I am based. I am on my way back to Yasuf from Deir Istiya. We've been given an afternoon off. The villiagers of Yasuf are throwing a BBQ for us, but I am going to skip it in favor of updating my journal.

Due to time constraints, I will be updating my journals largely with only the major events pertaining to the occupation, however, I've been keeping a notebook with many notes about the land, the culture, and the people I've met and spoken to. When I return, I will be rewriting these journals in a more complete form. I will have to find a way to send it ahead of me, as internationals departing Israel are subjected to an thorough search and questioning. To mention I was in the West Bank, or had dealings with Palestinians would guarantee me a longer stay as a guest of the Israel, for further questioning. I'm working on a cover story. Sofar, it goes like this: "Search me, but don't waste my fucking time: I've broken no laws, and have a plane to catch". I think I have to polish it a bit.

For the body of this entry, I will be adding lots of random information and musings. Today and yesterday have been relatively "Uneventful" (At least by West Bank standards"). I'd like to thank everyone who has left kind and encouraging words, both in the guestbook, and in the blog comments. I am maintaining good spirits sofar, but every infusion helps.

The Palestinians, in both Yasuf, and Deir Istiya have been DROWING us in hospitality. There are constant dinner invitations, which we are unable to accept as we usually eat dinner with our host families. I'm constantly invited to sit for a minute and have tea with people, which is great, as I can't get enough of their tea. The local tea is excellent: They flavor it with sage. The only problem is that they drink it out of shooter glasses, whereas I'm used to drinking tea out of mason jars.

---

My plans to go have tea with the settler I met have been ixnayed by local ISM leadership: they have spent much time building up a rappor with local villiages, and are concerned about one of their members being perceived as a collaborated. A reasonable concern. Instead, we have agreed that I'll make my visit when I leave the region for Nablus (Around the first).

---

Things in Deir Istiya are much more disorganized than in Yasuf. In Yasuf, we work closely with villiage leaders, and plan extensively. In Deir Istiya, there is a need for us, but we are having difficulty interfacing with villiage leadership. Instead, planning appears to be taking place at lower levels, which is creating misunderstandings and confusion in the assignment of internationals to families.

---

The Palestinian farmers we are helping are sitting on two years worth of olive oil, which they are unable to sell. Israel controls all of the borders of Palestine, and is not allowing Palestinians to engage in any export or external trade. Everything they sell must be to Israel, and everything they buy must be from Israel. Israel has it's own supply of olive oil. Typically, Palestine exports most of it's olive oil to the gulf region, however, this no longer takes place. Only a fraction is sold/consumed locally. The Palestinians are taxed more heavily than Israelis, but little goes towards Palestinian infrastructure.

Israel justifies much of it's oppression by claiming a war on terrorism. The more I see, the more I believe that it is not about defending about terrorism, but more about crippling the Palestinians economically, and ultimately, forcing them off of their land. If what I have seen/learned sofar is any indication, this will be a recurring theme throughout my journal.

So, if the Pals can't sell their oil, why are they bothering to pick? Well, they've been systematically deterred from tending and harvesting their olive trees by Military and Settler harassment for two years now. This harassment has included burning trees, and the beating and shooting of farmers. Now, settlers are claiming the olive groves for their own, under the pretense that they have been "abandoned". The olive farmers realize that this is pretty well their last stand: they have no choice but to pick, regardless of the consequences, or risk losing one of the few remaining sources of income/food available to them.

I believe this is part of a larger campaign to actually drive the Palestinians out of "Judea and Samaria" (Palestine). To deport the Palestinians en masse to Jordan, Egypt, and Lebanon would caused international outrage, so Israel has chosen a far subtler approach: to make life for them so untenable, that they have no choice but to flee. Were such a thing to happen, Israel would be able to disingenuously claim that they "Left of their own choice", as they claim about the mass exodus of Palestinians during the 1948 war (When Palestinians fled Mass executions at the hands of Israeli/Jewish death squads - some choice).

All of Israel is not behind this approach, and in fact, it is quite divided. There are many against the occupation in Israel, and their efforts have been very helpful in doing work very similar to what I am doing now. A group of them joined us during the most recent confrontation with settlers. Contrary to the myth that "Palestinians hate jews", they were very well received by the villiage. On of the Israeli activists, Noah, felt it was important to come out so that the current generation of Palestinian children are exposed to Jews other than just settlers and soldiers. The efforts of the Israeli activists were well appreciated. They have far more courage than any of the other ISMers, as they do not always receive the support from friends and family that other Internationals do.

I am still trying to understand the complex relationship between the settlers, the police, and the military. Although it is largely cooperative, it is sometimes adversarial. In some instances, the military intervenes violently against Palestinians at the request of settlements. In other cases, such as is happening in Hebron region now, a settlement is trying to build an expansion which the military keeps destroying: they are spread to thin to defend it, and do not want the headache. Today, several (jewish) Hebron policemen were wounded in a shootout with settlers. Talking to soldiers, I see a range of opinion from outright hatred of Palestinians and love for their job, to sympathy for the palestinians, and hatred for their job. It's a lot to get one's head around.

Yesterday, while I was picking olives by the roadside with a family, a police vehicle drove by and shouted something from it's loudspeakers. I asked the family to translate. Aparrently it said "Go home.... Go Home!" Soon after, a military checkpoint was set up a kilometer away at the main entrance to Deir Istiya. The soldiers forced all Palestinian traffic off of the "Settler-only" highway, and starting checking the ID of all exiting or entering Deir Istiya. I walked up to ascertain the reason for the roadblock. I acted like naive, good natured, but inquisitive Canadian . I spoke slowly and softly. I approached the armed soldiers and asked:

Me: "Ummm... Hi... Did something happen?"

"No..."

"Ummmm... Was there an attack somewhere today?

"No..."

"So no one has been hurt today?"

"No, it is just a regular day in the West Bank. This is normal."

" Well, I guess we can consider it a good day then, no?"

The soldiers chuckled too. I continued to stand there, and looked at my feet pensively. Another soldier walked up to me:

"I do not want to be here, you know".

"You are a reservist?"

"Yes. I will never come back to the west bank again." (I'm not sure if this meant he would refuse or not, although the "refusenik" movement is slowly growing)

"Why is there a checkpoint if there is no emergency?"

"The Palestinians are not allowed to use our roads"

"But they were allowed yesterday, so why do you check today"

"Sometimes we enforce, sometimes we do not. It is like a game, you see. I do not like it".

It is like a game, he says. Certainly not a game for the Palestinians.

I thanked the soldier, wished them all a good day, and stepped back. There was a cabful of Palestinians waiting at the checkpoint, and I offered them my water bottle. Mariam, another activist (55 yrs, Born french Canadian, converted to Islam 20 yrs ago), asked soldiers about the cabful of women they had been detaining. The soldier replied that they had no papers. Mariam talked to the people in the cab, and it appears that they were too terrified of the soldiers to produce them. The misunderstanding was cleared up, papers produced, and cab allowed to proceed. Had it not been for Miriam's intervention, the cab could have waited all day in the hot sun. Such is normal. Miriam and I left, and the checkpoint was disbanded minutes later, as suddenly as it had appeared.

A note on roads: Palestinians are not allowed to use settler roads. Only cars with yellow license plates (Jewish) are allowed to use the roads. This would not be a problem, however, their own network of roads has been completely destroyed by massive piles up rubble deposited in the middle of them at all access points to villiages and towns. To get from one villiage to another, we often have to take a cab to a rubble-roadblock, cross the roadblock by foot, and grab another cab on the other side. The army claims that this is done to prevent "Terrorism".

The villiage of Deir Istiya is far poorer than Yasuf, and few people speak english. Somehow, in an exhausting, and extensive game of charades, communication is being achieved. Rural Palestinians speak a dialect of Arabic called "Evreet". It is to Arabic what Quebecois is to French. I am picking it up slowly but surely.

I am in Palestine for just over a month. I hope to spend 2 weeks in rural areas, and two weeks in urban areas. All major Palestinian cities are under "Curfew" (Mass house arrest). The worst is Gaza City, which is really just a big concentration camp, but ISM doesn't have any people there. The next worst is Nablus, where the military has gone completely nuts, and is even going house to house beating people. Internationals are just placed in houses to negotiate soldiers down, but some of them are being beaten also. I just spoke to another monitor in Nablus AS she witnesses soldiers pull an ambulance driver from his vehicle and beat him. Just another day in the west bank.

By the way, Israel has admitted that it assassinated the wrong guy last week in Bethlehem. That would be the "terrorist", whose destroyed body I saw at the hospital... the same fellow who was blown up as he visited his sick mother... the same fellow who did not have the benefit fo a trial. Interestingly enough, the killing took place after 6 weeks of relative calm in Bethlehem. It seems to me that every time things settle down, Israel kicks the hornets nest, in the anticipation of being stung, so they can set it on fire, and then claim it was justified.

This is very similar to what happened a month ago: The leader of Hamas declared his willingness to cease suicide bombings, and the next day, Israel answered his offer by dropping a one ton bomb on an apartment in Gaza city, killing a dozen children, wounding scores more, and rendering many homeless. There are many examples like this.

As for terrorism among the Palestinians, I've seen little to indicate it. I personally believe that they are entitled to resist this madness by any means they choose, but sofar I've found their disposition to be sad and frustrated, but eager for peace. I've repeatedly heard sincere expressions of desire to get along with Israel. I find it interesting to note that the Palestinians differentiate between soldiers, settlers, Israelis, and Jews, and in fact have different words for each. (Soldiers, Moustow-taneen, Isra-ay-lienne, Yehuda). They understand that each group is different, and do not lump them into the blanket category of "Jews". In fact, several times, I've been mistaken for "Isra-ay-lienne" by Palestinians, but with no overt hostility on their part. I find this heartening.

I've asked some of the activists who've been here for a long time if it's possible that the Palestinians are putting on a pacific show for the Internationals, and they felt strongly that the Palestinians were being sincere. The also doubted if there were any guns in either of the villiages we've been to, not only because of the farmer's eagerness to distance themselves from anything violent, but also because of the regular house-to-house searches conducted by the police in the villiages.

The farmers highly fear the "Moustow-taneen", however. Each villiage has had many shot, and a few killed by settler violence. In the words of Danny, on of the Israeli activists, "These people are Klansmen... there is no reasoning with them". Another activist, Diana, observed: "In another culture, these idiots would have become nazi skinheads". I find it rather easy to deal with the settlers, despite the rocks they throw and the guns they point, I fear them very little: I've grown up with bullies all of my life, and have long ago ceased being intimidated by them. Truly, I find them a little ridiculous. That being said, I'm realize they must be handled with all care and delicacy.

Truly ridiculous is the one we've nicknamed "Brooklyn". He's mid 20's, with a new york accent, and a COMPLETE nut. He's the same one that replied to my diplomacy with: "Fuck you Dan, Fuck Canadians! I'm going to stab you, I'm going to pull your guts out your ass". He was the only settler we've seen sofar without an M16. We figure that this is because he's probably too much of a loose cannon even for the settlers, and they won't let him carry one. He does carry a knife, however, which he held to someone's throat. Aparrently a picture was gotten of this, which will be used to lodge a formal complaint. Israel's police are pretty blase' about harassment, terrorizing, and killing of palestinians, however, they get a little weak in the knees in the face of documented settler violence against internationals: They understand the dangers of an international incident.

I did not get a shot of this: My camera, packed it in when I was punched in the face by a settler as I attempted to snap a fotograph of a settler brandishing an M16 at an old Pal woman. I was able to fix it later. This camera seems to keep letting me down when I need it most. No problem - Others have taken many great fotos, which I'm sure I'll get my hands on eventually.

As an aside, it's worth mentioning that many settlers are army reservists, and many are using military issue equipment. I liken them to a civilian militia, acting as the vanguard of Israeli expansionism. Settlement building is coordinated by the Israeli department of defence.

Tomorrow, we're going to the area called the "south face" again, for another day of picking. We need another two days in the area before all families complete their respective orchards. This is the same area where we had big trouble the other day. As before, we've requested police/military protection, and will be joined by a contingent of Israeli peace activists. It's worth mentioning that without an international presence, the farmers would be completely unable to go to the area, as they simply just get shot by settlers.

A documentary filmaker with us has asked me to wear a remote mike tomorrow, which will be recording constantly as soon as any problems arise. Aparrently, he finds me "A dynamic character", and figures he'll get some good material. If my life to date is any indication, "good material" never fails to find me.

Our Palestinian ISM coordinator/translator who was detained for "questioning" the other day by the Israeli police eventually had to go to the hospital for treatment of his injuries. It's also worth mentioning that when he finally was released by the police, he was dropped off at midnight at the front gates of a settlement. Thankfully, ISM had anticipated this, and had left a team behind to wait for him, just in case. A palestinian alone at night in front of a settlement would undoubtedly be killed.

I witnessed and heard about much harassment and intimidation of the Pals in the last few days. Too many incidents to relate.

All of my emotional shields are up, and I am very focused on what I am doing. Health and mood are good. I've got prickles all over my freaking body, however. The other day, while carrying a 60 lb sack of olives on my shoulder, I took a tumble down a hill, right into a patch of cacti. We spent 20 minutes picking thorns of of my back, arms and legs. There's still a bunch left, but I figure they'll work themselves out of their own time. Today, I picked and at the fruit off of a prickly pear cactus, but discovered too late that the fruit is covered in thousands of very tiny barbs. I spent an hour picking them out of my hands with tweezers... I'm still finding the buggers. I figure I have no choice but to make friends with the ones that remain. The locals just shake their head and laugh at the stupid Canadian. I laugh at myself for these stupid, could-have-been-avoided mishaps. Am Surprised I havn't twisted an ankle yet on the rugged, rocky terrain.

Truly, though, it's just an inconvenience to what I experience, and what I see. Ultimately, I commend the Palestinian people I've met for their bravery and their courage. I really don't know how they can bear living in this massive cage, while Israelis poke at them through the bars with M16's.

It's worth mentioning that in the last two years, the number of Palestinian Noncombatants killed has outnumbed Israeli noncombatants killed by 3 to 1.

I've added some pictures. Most are scenery and people, but nothing dramatic. I'll comment anything significant now, and sort them out when I return.

The children here are cute beyond description. They are all laughing and beautiful, however, I fear for the older boys: with puberty comes the inevitable suspicion, arrests, interrogations, broken arms and cigarette burns.

Here's a recording of some boys in Deir Istiya introducing themselves.

2002-10-18T17:32:00.000-07:00
Today the words are all Dans, the spelling and punctuation errors are all mine.
(Dictated to me by Dan over the phone)

-Jason-

We have decided it was a set up buy the Israeli Army, We were initially told
the Palestinians could pick olives under military protection witch was
arranged before hand however arriving at the valley there was no military presence
we suspect it may have been a set up of some kind. After many phone calls to
police and military the military did finally show up at witch point the settlers
backed off slightly. The soldiers told us the area was a closed military Zone and
asked us to leave the area our negotiator stated that the Palestinians have
a right to pick their olives and that we would not be leaving at witch point all of
us sat down which included 200 Palestinian and 18 monitors 10 Israeli peace activist.
We made it very clear we were acting in a peaceful non aggressive manner
but were not going to leave. We watched the soldiers interact with the settlers.
We saw many familiar handshakes and high fives.Talking to the soldiers I have
discovered that many of them do not like the role they are playing and are counting the days
until their reserve tour finishes. From visual observation it is also obvious that there
is much sympathy for the settlers among the soldiers. After an hour settlers and
soldiers left and the Palestinians commenced picking their olives. Altogether we
conceder it a complete success although we do fear settler reprisal against the village.

In the evening a meeting was held with town leaders to discuss sending monitors
to help out this nearby village.Leaders were gracious and said they trusted whatever
we decided but we know they did not want us to leave although they understand many
villages are in need of our help. Ultimately it was decided to send four of us to a nearby village
named Deir Islia. Today we worked with locals picking olives without incident.

I hiked up the highway to get a photo of a massive roadblock. These road-blocks are
massive piles of rubble placed over Palestinian roads to render them impassable.
The roadblocks are created buy the Israeli Army at the request of the settlers.
They result in the complete cessation of inter-village traffic between Westbank towns.
These roadblocks have a massive impact on Palestinian trade and travel.
A settler saw me hiking with a Canadian flag on my backpack up the settler-only highway
and pulled over, he warned me that I was in very dangerous territory and offered me a ride.
I told him felt safeand stuck up a conversation with him. I quite liked the fellow and we
had a nice chat. Ultimately I told him my purpose for being in the area and also expressed
an interest in having tea with him to learn about him. I have been very eager to meet and talk
with settlers in a non adversarial environment. He said he thought it was a very fair thing
and would like to have me over for tea. He gave me his cell phone number and we
shook hands with a commitment to meet later.

I quite miss my new found Palestinian friends in Yasuf but the people of Deir Islia
are very close to a settlement and need coverage as well. I do not feel any particular
chemistry with the family I am presently assigned to but we will be back in Yasuf in
3 days for more olive picking and settler negotiating fun.

I am very exhausted and am becoming increasingly frustrated with incessant meetings.
Even the smallest decisions require a meeting to resolve. The touchy-feely lefties
dominant in ISM are uncomfortable with making decisions
for others and are also uncomfortable with having others make decisions for them.
All decisions require a "consensus group" to ensure that no one will have their feelings
hurt buy any of their decisions.

All villagers in Yassuf and Deir Islia are rolling out their red carpets and trotting out their
Sunday best for us, it is saddening because we know they do not have that much to give.
We are ridding a fine line between polite acceptance of hospitality while trying to make a
minimal impact on their resources.

These people have a very hard life but are very very brave. They are always laughing
and their children are lively and incredibly cute.

I have learned that you can earn the friendship of a young Palestinian boy by chucking
an olive at his head while he is picking, this does have the downside in that I end up having
olives chucked at me all day long buy the same
laughing boy.

2002-10-16T22:13:00.000-07:00
I am relaying this update to you all from Dan as he does not have internet access at the moment.
This is as close to Dans word as possible but you will need to wait for Dan to edit it for the definitive version.

-Jason

ISM team was gearing up to pick olives in a valley were lots of settlers have gathered.
ISM team, Palestinians, some "Rabbis for Humanity", 10 Israeli Jews are there translating Hebrew
as well as the Israeli Army to deter settlers from acting up while ISM team is present.
-(Two soldiers showed up but showed little interest in intervening)

While I was on the phone with Dan a Jewish settler said to him,
" I want to cut your throat" "F**k Canada, F**k all of you" Dan figured he was from America due
to his lack of Israeli accent. Dan had said to him that his name is Daniel from
Canada and he would llike to be friends with everyone (Israeli or Palestinian).
This is a way to deescalate the situation avoiding violent confrontation. The settler said something to
the effect of "You are helping Arabs that is worse ... " I can't remember it exactly but I remember
thinking it was a harshly racist comment. The same settler then through a
rock at Dan. This all happened while we were on the phone. Dan went off to regroup with his ISM team.
No one was badly injured other than a couple bloody noses.

Last night the settlers were shooting toward the ground near the ISM team and Palastinians
in an effort to intimidate them.

It sounds like Dan is really enjoying the excitement and helping these people, no really!

-Jason

2002-10-15T23:22:00.000-07:00
I am relaying this update to you all from Dan as he does not have internet access
at the moment. This is as close to Dans word as possible but you will need to
wait for Dan to edit it for the definitive version.

-Jason

Dan called at about 12:00 am Calgary time (early morning there). He said on
their way out to pick olives they had stones thrown at them buy settlers.
They slowly fell back to a positon and held it in stalemate with the settlers
untill the military showed up. There were a couple of palastinian "kids"
throwing stones in retaliation, they were informed buy the ISM members that
if the did not stop, the ISM members would leave their village immediately.
I could hear yelling and chaos in the background during the call. Dan had to
put his cell phone in the care of company as he was asked to step forward
with empty hands to display that he did not have a weapon. There were
firearms involved but it is unclear to me who and in what capacity
at this time. These poeple are just farmers trying to farm their olives.

Dan called a couple of times first to pass on the information about the
turmoil. The last call was when things were under control and he was able
to give more detail. He also let me know that he was ok. He sounded calm,
focused and relaxed, he even laughed when I said good bye to him in cantonese.

-Jason

2002-10-15T15:56:00.000-07:00
I am relaying this update to you all from Dan as he does not have internet access at the moment.
This is as close to Dans word as possible but you will need to wait for Dan to edit it for the definitive version.

Jason

Dan with his team was supposed to leave Jerusalem for Saflit however a ISM coordinator was aressted at a checkpoint, released 10 hours later after being interrogated harshly and wont discuss it. There are reports of people that have been thrown in a room with blood on the floor forced to listen to tapes of people being beaten.

Dan and his ISM team stayed in Jerusalem an extra day and was reassigned to Yasuf, Yasuf is surrounded buy 4 settlments.Settlers came and stole olives at gun point after they had been picked buy the Palestinians thus the reason for ISM assigning the team to this area.It is expected that there will be difficulties but it is necessary to reclaim olive groves for the village. The settlers are armed, hostile and unpredictable but are unlikely shoot an international due to fear of political fallout. This is a rural area, encounters with settlers likely, no curfew, unlikely encountering of Israeli Army.

On the way into the village they saw an olive grove on fire, one of many set by settlers in recent days
as well we saw many places where olive trees had been burned for a 50' distance on either side of the road.

The Israeli Army does this and claims it is taking place to remove potential cover for gunman. If you have ever seen an olive tree you would know this is an unrealistic claim. Even the biggest olive tree is insufficient to provide cover for gwenith paltrow with a blow gun much less a Palestinian gunman.

They drove in on settler only roads, the vehicle had yellow Iraelie plates, essentially they were smuggled in.

Dan picked olives alongside farmers, work was hard but enjoyable and went without incidendt.
Incase of settler aggression they determined that 6 would negotiate, deescalate,
and delay settlers while 3 stayed back and recoreded incidence with digital
cameras meanwhiel farmers would retreat with olives.

In the evening ISM team met with local community leaders to determine where in the region they were most needed
It was determined that there is one region where the settlers were picking the olives themselves.. and has been determined there is a lieklyhood of confrontation. ISM is going to notify police, the Israeli Army and the Red Cross.The Israeli Army has no love for internationals or Palestinians. however the settlers are unlikely to harm an international in the presence of the Israeli Army

The bank machines default to chequing so if you don't have a chequing account like Dan you are lucky you have
a brother who got you cash from your account today and is ready to wire it when needed.

Jason (Not posted by Daniel)

2002-10-14T04:08:00.000-07:00
Jason-> It appears that the enetnation "comment" links in the blog are no longer working... the username and pass should be on the admin page. Could you please look into this for me when you have a sec?

Also, tell mom I got her 2 rosaries from Bethlehem as request. Lizette, also got you one.

2002-10-14T04:03:00.000-07:00
We've been assigned to Saflit. The main difficulties there are settler harassment of Farmers. Aparrently there is a some sort of activist center there with internet connectivity.

2002-10-13T14:42:00.000-07:00
It's been a long day. Must make this a short entry. Forgive mistakes, as I'm typing fast, and have no time to edit.

Due to an increase of settler violence against pal farmers, our help is desperately needed, and our classes have been compressed. It was a long day. Training consisted of learning how to defuse conflict with armed settlers, while protecting the pal farmers. We learned about the military, the law. Things are fairly structured, and they have a great methodology. It is a little different than I expected, but I am still pleased to be playing a role in this.

I thought about who I wanted on my team. I watched everyone like a hawk, and untimately approached a few people I thought would be suitable teammates. I was looking at forging a talented, well rounded team. This is a slightly more proactive approach than others are taking, who are just planning to end up with who they end up with. I am pleased sofar, but there are still two slots open. I don't want to get stuck with any dead weight, whiners, or faint of heart. I will discuss more on teammates later.

At end of day, 6 of us made a bank machine run. While at bank machine we were notified of an asassination at the hospital. We arrived to see the twisted wreck of a phone booth. Aparrently, Mohammed Epiat was visiting his ailing mother at the Bethlehem Hospital. He received a cell phone call, and stepped outside of the hospital, at which point the phone booth exploded. Ostensibly, he was killed by the Israeli occupation forced. Aparrently he was a member of the Al Aqsa Martyrs brigade. Aparrently this did not entitle him to a trial.

We were permitted to see the body. Actually, only the head, as the body had been blown nearly in half. The face was shattered, with gaping holes even in the sinus area. I tried to get a shot, but the grisly spectacle was too much for my camera, and it packed it in. I have not been able to revive it. I am making arrangements to get back to bethlehem and get another.

While leaving, we were shouted at by an old man, the uncle of the deceased.
Previous to this, there has been relative peace in Bethlehem for weeks. This is a standard scenario... once things stabilize, the IDF stirs up the pot with an assassination... of course, Hamas retaliation occurs, and then the israeli occupation forces retaliate by an invasion and occupation of more territory. Like clockwork.

(Very similar to last week's strike on Gaza, which followed weeks of peace as well)

Tomorrow we finish team assignment, and get shipped out to our respective locations. It looks like Tulkarem and Nablus need the most help, although all areas are begging for observers to come. I may not have either Internet or Cell connectivity, but will do what I can. EXPECT me to be out of touch for a few days, unless I get lucky.

Jason\-> Having bank card troubles, need money, and require a wire. I do not know when I will call to request it. Could you please withdraw $600 CDN from my accnt, and locate a Western Union close to you? When I am able to get to one here, I will give you a call. I will do my best to call during decent hours.

I think I am handling things well, although I will confess that my mood has gone right down the crapper, and along with it my patience.

2002-10-12T12:04:00.000-07:00
Gotta be a short one, as I am exhausted. I just finished completing yesterdays entry, which I had previously had trouble uploading.

Met two fellow ISMers this morning at my hotel. Both are ladies in their 40's. One is named Nervous Nellie, and the other is Chatty Cathy.

Nervous Nellie is very conscious of her Americanness, and walks on eggshells around the locals, for feel of breaking a taboo that she may not have heard of yet. Chatty Cathy Is back for her second "tour" with ISM. Each are here for 1 and two weeks respectively. Cathy says that 1 week alone in the occupied territories seems like a lifetime, and raised her eyebrows when I said I was here for a month (actually, 35 days). Hopefully, I've not bit off more than I can chew. Nervous Nelly told me she's pre-booked an appt with her shrink for when she gets back. Altogether, sounds like a very good idea.

Did much errand running with Nellie today..... It basically amounted to non stop walking on cobblestone from 10am to 7pm... AND I AM BAGGED.

While she took a mid afternoon nap, I continued to run my own errands. Walking up a cobblestone corridor (10' wide), I heard a disturbance ahead... I looked up to see a tidal wave of brawling Palestinian youths spilling down the corridor... Two gangs, roughly 20 in number each, were fighting. One appeared to be pursuing the other. Eager to get a good seat, I pressed up against the wall, and let the tidal wave spilled by me. Someone chucked a bottle, which careened off the wall near me, but thankfully didn't hit anyone. I wasn't able to get off a photo. From what I heard, the fight had spilled all the way across the Jewish Quarter. Bassam, who works at the hotel, just chalked it up as "Kids!". It seemed pretty hardcore to me, but I'm sure it's small potatoes around here.

Also, later in the day, I encountered a youth who works at the al-faisel hostel with a large, untreated gash on his arm. Aparrently someone slashed him with a knife yesterday. From what I could glean, he didn't know the person, and didn't know why they slashed him. He almost seemed to accept it as a matter of course. The skin had actually parted and you could see the raw flesh underneath. I had left my supplies miles away at the hotel, but did use the bandaids in my wallet to cover the wound... tomorrow I will see him, and we can clean and dress it properly.

There's an incredible ammount of heartbreak in this place. I can see it affects Nellie, but I'm not allowing it to affect me. I'm sure there will be plenty to affect me later.

The streets of the holy city are packed with lots of drunk Romanians. Aparrently, Israel has been using them as a source of migrant labor in place of the troublesome Palestinians. Being Shabbat, it is their day off, but being Shabbat, most places to get a beer are closed... except for the Christian quarter of the old city. They've been going hard all day. It's a rather amusing sight.

I got a cellphone today for around $100 US. Anyone who wants the #, drop me an email. I'd post it publicly, but I don't need the usual Zionist wackos prank-calling me. I bought a transformer/adapter for my discman charger to a local wall outlet for $5 US, which is quite a deal, as I believe it would have cost me WAY more in Canada. The trip is costing way more than anticipated. Initially, I had budgeted about $3000 CDN, but it's already up to about $5000 CDN. I tried to get money out of a bank machine today, and although it took my fellow ISMers card, it would not take mine. I will try a bank machine in Bethlehem tomorrow, but if not, I will have to ask my brother to Western Express me some money. Thankfully I gave him power of attorney over my finances just in case such a situation arose.

(BTW, this is a prime opportunity to give him a hearty thank-you. I am indebted to several people for their support of this effort, but my brother is carrying the greatest load - knowing I've got him on backend support gives me a great deal of confidence. I'll save the mushy shit for email.)

Bassam, who works at the hotel, has been very helpful today, and we spent some time together while he helped me find a good deal on a cell phone. He's from Ramallah, which is 10 minutes away from Jerusalem, and is presently under Israeli Army imposed "curfew". In order to work in Jerusalem, he must hike cross-country around the checkpoints, a journey which takes him 3 hours. Due to this difficulty, he actually only goes home once a week. If he were to be caught in Jerusalem by the Israeli army/Jerusalem Police, he would be jailed for being in Jerusalem illegally. He's got a wife in ramallah, but no children. He and his wife did have a set of twins, but they were born premature, and died in the first year. He hopes to try again. He's very likeable. He's been an indispensible source of help in helping me get resources. I've resolved to tip him very highly when I leave.

He has a high opinion of ISM, as ISM members have been breaking the Ramallah curfew in order to get supplies and medical attention to Palestinians unable to leave their homes (They will be shot if they leave). The citizens of Ramallah have lived like this for almost 6 months.

Tomorrow is training in Bethlehem. I doubt if I will have the luxury of detailed Journal entried from here on in.

2002-10-12T06:24:00.000-07:00
It's been a busy an educational day. I'll summarize major points:

Jerusalem is a large city with the topography of an egg carton... Taking the bus into the city, I darned near got vertigo: Up a hill, down a hill... up a hill, down a hill. It's divided into the following sections: East Jerusalem (Primarily Palestinian), West Jerusalem (Primaryily Jewish), and the "old city", which is roughly between the two, and defined by the massive fortress-like walls that surround it. To get into the old city, there are about 6 main entrances, or "gates". The old city is a catacomb-like labyrinth of shops and churches, all of it set into ages-old stone. I am staying near the "New Gate". Nearby is the "Damascus Gate", which is a maelstrom of Middle Eastern madness, with vendors, crowds, and craziness on a massive scale. It's actually quite overwhelming.

After getting settled, I wandered the old city for a while. No one warned me about the agressiveness of the Palestinian shopkeepers. They are skilled salesmen, articulate, personable, and incredibly desperate. Business is very bad, and shops are closing. I talked to several, and they did everything short of outright beg me to buy something. I told one that I would like to buy from him, but that I would prefer to make my purchases in the West bank. He replied that he would much prefer I buy there before I buy from him. I thought that was great. When I mentioned the same to another shopkeeper, he told me the following: "The West Bank is poor, but they always have enough to survive, and are not saddled with rent to pay as we (Pal vendors in Old City Jerusalem) do. We are on the frontlines, and are in danger of losing all we have. The Israelis are eager to see us go out of business, so they can move their own vendors in here.". My heart really went out to them. I hope to pay a few of them for their time for language lessons, and on the way back, will be sure to buy something from the first vendor who told me to buy in the WB. He had some beautiful persian textiles, in particular a beautifully patterned Persian bedspread (Similar to the one I already have, but nicer). The "Palestinian" made goods are no so nice.... Nor are the Bedouin or Shia items.

I see there are kittens everywhere... They look much less healthy than the ones in Tel Aviv, and many have obvious ailments. It's heartbreaking. They are incredibly pathetic. They look half scared that you are going to throw something at them, and half scared that you won't.

All thoughtout my journey, I saw the word "Issa" spraypainted, stenciled, etched, all over. I thought it was a slogan or organization, until I came across the following words "Issa is the name, and basketball is the game".

Jerusalem seems quite safe... I've thrown caution to the wind, and ditched my money belt, as it was a nuisance. I've been gratuitously pushing the limit a bit, if only to find out where the limits are. Both ISM literature and the guidbook warn against wearing anything remotely military, which is a problem, as I am dearly attached to my combat shorts. I've been wearing them without a problem. I've been carrying my backpack everywhere, an act unthinkable if I had a darker complexion. In one case, however, a Tel Aviv bus driver did refuse to allow me on. There are metal detectors all over.... which are frequently set off my my 1/4 pound of leatherman multitool attached to my belt.. but it never seems to be a problem for anyone. Despite having significantly more baggage than anyone else, my passport alone is enough to breeze my way through the various public checks... even those entering bus stations. I've observed that as an international, I have a FAR greater degree of mobility and movement than either an Israel or a Pal.

For a reputedly highly militarized area, I've seen relatively few police/military in Jerusalem. There are patrols through the old city, but no the soldier-ever-ten-feet I was expecting.

After shopping, I left the old city for the new, in search of a beer. I happened into the first little restaurant bar I saw, and sat and chatted with the bartender, Elke. Elke is likeable, happy-go-lucky, 22, born in Israel of parents from New York. I was up front with him about my purpose. I asked him many questions about his beliefs. He is sad about what he sees happening to Israel (the bombings), but does not know what he can do. He did not seem aware of the gravity of the occupation, but did sense that he isn't hearing all that is going on. He had a great wordbyte: "This problem will not be solved by dialogue between Arafat and Sharon... It has to be solved by Elke and Ahmed". In other words, he that both leaders are mad, and peace lies in understanding between individuals.

Ultimately, the proprieter joined us, a Moroccan born Jew named Danielle. She was very pessimistic about the outlook for peace, and outright expressed her belief that even if land is returned to the Pals, the bombings would not stop. When asked directly what she thought the solution was, she replied that she didn't believe there was one. She said that for the sake of fairness, I should live among Israelis for as long as I will be living among the Pals. I had already recognized this imbalance, and agreed with her. I did stress that I have been making the most of my time among Israelis to talk to them and learn about them.

If I may make a general observation (and take it as such), I would say that the Native Israelis ("Sabras") are far more moderate in their political beliefs than the imports, particularly the Americans, who seem quite right wing. Ultimately, I have an impression of a state highly divided, perhaps roughly analogous to vietnam-era USA.

After returning from Elke and Danielle's Restaurant, I walked through the Old city. It was complete deserted. I dropped into an Internet Cafe, where I met some Palestinians, and a British Jew named Hannah. Hannah had heard of ISM, and had met many ISMers in the past. According to her, they were largely left wing radicals, some overtly marxist, and in one case, she claimed she heard on call another "Comrade". The last thing I want is to be stuck in a war zone with a bunch of commies. I can forgoe my massages, my mochaccinos, and twice-a-day showers, but this is particular hardship may be too much to bear. I certainly hope she is wrong, but I am excited to see.

In any case, I found her to be a little odd herself. She seemed intent on exaggerating her Jewishness.... not at all comfortable with it, but something that needed to be asserted at every turn. Despite having met many Israelis and Palestinians, Christians, Muslims, and Jews, all living together in Jerusalem, shes the only one I've met that found it necessary to over-assert her religious identity.

While walking home, I came across a lone Palestinian. Never missing a chance to make convo with a local, I asked him what the smell was in the air. He showed me a tree hanging down from the top of a wall. We made conversation... it turns out he had been in Calgary rather recently. This was an extraordinary revalation for me, as I had believed that Palestinians were not allowed to travel. In reality, this is only not completely true: Palestinians from Jerusalem *can* travel, as they are considered Israeli citizens (But they still need approval/permits), although those from the West Bank can not.

When I asked his name, he replied "Issa".

My Jaw dropped. It was the same name I had seen painted all over the Chrisian Quarter of Jerusalem.

Issa is quite a character: He's got a strong sense of vitality and confidence about him, aparrently is a local basketball star, and works in a local church (Gr. Othodox, I think). He's also tagged his name over 1/4 of Jerusalem's old city, where he has lived all of his life. He has a cousing in Calgary, and recently had dinner in the Calgary tower.... quite a contrast from the life of a Palestinian Christian in Jerusalem. Undoubtedly, very few of his peers will ever enjoy such luxury, much less ever escape from their open-air prison.

Reading ISM bulletins, I see that present initiatives involve placing Internationals with families living in houses slated for demolition (as is done when a family member is arrested). This buys the inhabitants time to get themselves and vital items out before the house is destroyed.

Tomorrow I proceed to bethlehem, where I will train for two days. After that, the real work begins. Journal entries will likely become far more terse.

2002-10-11T07:54:00.000-07:00
I've made it to Jerusalem, and registered at the Knight's Palace hotel, which is located in the "Old City" quarter of Jerusalem. The entrance looks like a little nook carved out of rock, but it is very beautiful and clean inside. Nearby is an Internet Cafe where I am writing from. This cafe is the first one I've come across with USB support, so I can start to dump my photos up... The Amsterdamned fotos I'll put in my personal pictures section directly off of memeticcandiru.com. There's only a few sofar from the middle east. I will have to caption the fotos later when I have more time.

For the technical people who may care, here's a traceroute from this Jerusalem Internet cafe, to memeticcandiru.com, located in Cowgary.

1 1 ms 1 ms Router [192.168.168.230 1]
2 322 ms 334 ms 337 ms ADSLP224-NV-p1.adsl.netvision.net.il [212.143.224.1]
3 332 ms 385 ms 289 ms tlv-ge10-0-v160.netvision.net.il [212.143.4.225]
4 516 ms 508 ms 566 ms 105.po1-3.brdr1.nyc.nv.net.il [212.143.12.149]
5 553 ms 434 ms 531 ms Gigabitethernet4-0.GW12.NYC4.ALTER.NET [157.130.5.37]
6 415 ms 413 ms 493 ms 505.at-6-1-0.XR4.NYC4.ALTER.NET [152.63.22.78]
7 428 ms 530 ms 460 ms 0.so-7-0-0.XL1.NYC9.ALTER.NET [152.63.10.22]
8 485 ms 449 ms 461 ms POS6-0.BR1.NYC9.ALTER.NET [152.63.18.225]
9 207 ms 214 ms 207 ms p7-2.nycmny1-cr10.bbnplanet.net [4.0.6.141]
10 502 ms 543 ms 547 ms p1-0.nycmny1-nbr2.bbnplanet.net [4.24.8.169]
11 524 ms 503 ms 465 ms p15-0.nycmny1-nbr1.bbnplanet.net [4.24.10.209]
12 522 ms 542 ms 547 ms so-6-0-0.chcgil2-br2.bbnplanet.net [4.24.4.17]
13 559 ms 507 ms 543 ms p1-0.chcgil2-cr2.bbnplanet.net [4.24.9.34]
14 516 ms 536 ms 496 ms p0-0.bctel2.bbnplanet.net [4.24.203.38]
15 561 ms 543 ms 499 ms chcnil23gr00.bb.telus.com [154.11.11.89]
16 543 ms 499 ms 564 ms clgrab31br01.bb.telus.com [154.11.10.129]
17 557 ms 609 ms 667 ms clgrab31gr01.bb.telus.com [154.11.10.170]
18 623 ms 511 ms 540 ms clgrab01dr00.bb.telus.com [208.38.16.144]
19 535 ms 464 ms 457 ms clgrab21ar01.bb.telus.com [209.115.152.67]
20 blhc18gfy55k.ab.hsia.telus.net [205.206.133.76] reports: Destination protocol unreachable (firewall)

Them's a lot of hops. If anyone cares to generate a Geographical representation of this tracert, I'd be happy to post it.

A ~30 yr old Palestinian fellow is to my left. Chatting with him, I've found out he's from Ramallah, but cannot go home, due to the curfew. He is very scared for his family.

A Latin American Franciscan Monk just sat down to my right. I've tried to talk to him, but he isn't interested in conversation. I don't know if that's a foreigner's caution, or if it's part of his religion. (In fact, it just ocurred to me: If he's not allowed to talk, what the heck is he doing on the net? Perhaps I'm better off not knowing...)

A young Pal boy named Joseph is curious about my camera. I show it to him and his friends. They are amazed by the digital screen on the back. I've taken a picture of him in front of the Internet cafe.

Someone's jerking with the sound system in the cafe, playing obnoxious dance music obnoxiously loud. It's annoying, and making it hard to concentrate.

I'm going back to the hotel now, in the hopes of seeking out other ISMers. Aparrently they are around.

Jason -> You'll be amused to know that they're playing "Careless Whisper" right now. Too funny.

2002-10-11T03:19:00.000-07:00
I've decided to leave TA for Jerusalem - Although I'd like to stay, this city has a sirenlike lure of comfort and complacency, which is all the more reason for me to continue on.... I'd like a day or two to get settled in Jerusalem before the fun begins, anyhow.

A few closing notes:

-In my hotel/hostel I met a hip young South African fellow who has been living here for the last 5 years without work visa... He supports himself by doing manual labor, and being an all-purpose handyman, something he takes great pride in. Aparrently, Israelis have a disdain for what they call "Black work". This isn't a racial reference, but a reference to the color it makes ones hands... perhaps, for the sake of being warm and fuzzy, I will translate the term as "Black Hand work. Aparrently there is a greater need for his services now that Palestinian laborers are no longer welcome/allowed.

-A few people have chuckled to me that they can always tell the Canadians, as we plaster ourselves with our flag. They find this very cute. I explain that this is dual purpose, as we are not only very proud to be Canadians, but we fear being mistaken for Americans. When I showed my CDN flag tattoo to two girls, they were horrified that I'd get my nations flag tattooed on me. This wasn't from the Jewish prohibition on tattoos, but moreso a disdain for nationalism. They expressed a desire to get a tattoo, but when asked if they'd get their own flag, or even a star of david tattooed on them, they expressed disgust. This strong feeling surprised me... I don't know what to make of it, but wish I had a larger sample size for consideration.

-Crime and homelessness are relatively new phenomenae in Tel Aviv, ostensibly having come along with the many russian immigrants. The people I've spoken to claim to have no problem with the Russians, but nonetheless, do not speak of them in favorable terms.

Anyhow, I'm off to grab a fresh squeezed juice, and catch a bus to Jerusalem. The bus ride should take roughly an hour.

...

2002-10-10T13:14:00.000-07:00
Kittens, kittens, everywhere.

I had many expectations and preconceptions of Tel Aviv before I came, but the last thing I expected was to see a modern city infested with hundreds (perhaps thousands) of feral cats. Most appear to be kittens, as sadly, they don't live more than a couple of years. They are more skittish than dangerous.

It's absolutely beautiful here... In constrast to the extreme unhappiness and discomfort I felt in Hamsterdamned, Tel Aviv fits like a glove. Although Tel Aviv is only a stepping stone to my ultimate destination, I think it's worth spending some time discussing this initial exposure to Jewish Israel.

My guidebook warned that the Israelis are characterisicly rude.. Which was a matter of concern to me, as I am characteristically well mannered, and accustomed to pleasant dealings with others. To my surprise, I've found that the guidebook was wrong - The Israelis I've met to date have been well mannered, courteous, helpful, and have treated me very well. All interactions have begun and ended pleasantly.

I'm staying at a clean, but low-cost guest house only blocks away from the Mediterranean. I've made the acquaintance of a few of my co-guests, one of whom is a native Israeli and was happy to show me around. It's quite easy to like Tel Aviv: It's modern, warm, humid, spacious, alive, safe, pleasant, tropical, clean, tropical and scenic. It appears to be prosperous, although it apparently is suffering due to the lack of tourists. Aparrently, as the only "tourist" here in a while, I'm a somwhat a curiosity.

My newfound friend, as she shows me around, mentions recent suicide bombings... "This pub... that restaurant...". In one case, a bomber with bleached hair and a guitar case full of boom blew himself up in the middle of a beachfront party... which put an end to the regular beachfront parties that used to take place in the evenings. Aparrently, there was a bombing today in a primarily orthodox town.

The bombings (and the occupation) seem a million miles away from the proserperous, sunny, and safe place I find myself in. My friend doesn't understand why the "arabics" do this, and doesn't really have any interest in finding out why. She has a strong feeling of her own secularity, combined with a disdain (and exasperation, I think) with matters political and religious. This is combined with a determination not to let herself be afraid, or modify her lifestyle for "safety". I suspect her views are shared by a great # of Israelis.

I had noticed some Othodox Jews on my plane coming in, and felt a slight bit of smugness emanating from many (but not all) of them. I gently broached this matter with my new friend. In a very surprising (and uncharacteristic) display of strong feelings, she proclaimed her extreme dislike for Orthodox Jews, whom she sees as racist, extremist minority with far too great a say in the welfare of other Israelis, and far too much influence in national affairs. To her chagrin, this minority is breeding at a rate faster than secular Israeli Jews, which she fears will lead to increased religification of Israel.

A few notes:

-Bags are checked coming into all public gather places. The check is cursory, and appears to be more symbolic than effective. I speculate that if one were to look "off" one would receive a more thorough search.

-There is an active public life, with people about in large #'s. Nonetheless, I think people are conscious of gathering with any degree of density.

-Israeli Money looks like it was printed by some kid using a Vic-20 and a color dot matrix printer.

-I expected to see cops/Military everywhere - Such is not the case, although I'm told it is in Jerusalem.

-I have seen a few soldiers... and I am both shocked and disappointed: They resemble kids in scout uniforms more than they do professional soldiers. I'd always been lead to believe that the Israeli army is one of the best trained, but I can believe this no longer. They are young... their deportment and care of dress is sloppy. Although I was far from a model soldier myself, I can tell the difference between sloppy-soldier and professional-soldier... and the majority I've seen have been sloppy kids with less discipline and professional pride than a Canadian cadet. In my experience, deportment and appearance are definitely reflective of the competence of the soldier.

-The dogs here do not speak English, but seem to come to me all the same.

It would be very easy for me to stay in Tel Aviv... But more serious matters await. I'm going to stay here an extra day, but must hasten off to Jerusalem, and meet up with the other ISMers.

2002-10-09T22:15:00.000-07:00
The beaver has landed!

I cleared customs and got a tourist visa with absolutely no trouble.

I'm exhausted, hungry, and sick again. Have just secured decent lodging in Tel Aviv for $40 US/night. - Single room, with own bath.

Met lots of nice people on the plane - everyone was very helpful and very friendly.

Will post more later on the flight, and my first impressions of Israel.

I'm about a block away from the Mediterranian!

2002-10-08T01:39:00.000-07:00
Nothing much to add today. I don't know what is being reported in North America about Israel's Gaza incursion, but here in Europe, the BBC is reporting that the IDF fired a rocket into a crowd, killing 14, and injuring 100. As the wounded were moved to the hospital, the IDF commenced firing on the hospital... Footage was shown of gunfire raking the front of the hospital. Mindblowing.

Of course, Hamas has vowed revenge, and the cycle begins anew...

For those that don't really know what Gaza is, it's a tiny strip of land on the Israeli coast, about 11 KM wide, and 34 KM long. It is subdivided into both Israeli settlements and Palestinian cities/refugee camps. Into these camps are packed 1.1 million Palestinians. If the people of the West Bank are desperate, starving, and frustrated, the people of Gaza are 100 times moreso.

Half of the population of Gaza is under 15 years old. Take a moment to think of what you were doing when you were 15.

Here is a recent interview with Ghassan Andoni, one of the founders of the International Solidarity Movement. It gives excellent insight into the ideology and methods of ISM: http://www.bitterlemons.org/issue/pal2.html

~35 more hours to Israel...

2002-10-07T05:36:00.000-07:00
Reading Ha'aretz, English edition, I see that "Olive Harvest" Violence is escalating: http://www.haaretzdaily.com/hasen/pages/ShArt.jhtml?itemNo=216755&contrassID=2&subContrassID=1&sbSubContrassID=0

Reading ISM observer reports, I see that ISM monitors are becoming involved, by assisting in the harvesting of the Olives. So far,
one monitor has been shot (but not kilt), by a settler.

Here's an article about Jewish civilian volunteers assisting with the Pal olive harvest. The reference to "Civilian Observer", leads me to believe that the people referenced in this article are ISMers: http://www.wfn.org/2000/11/msg00195.html

I'd like to take the opportunity to tip my hat to 77 yr old Louis Schmitteroth of Edmonton, who recently returned from a stint as a civilian observer, and also has an online journal of his experiences at: httt://schmittroth.tripod.com - His advice and experience was very helpful to me.

I'd also like to take this opportunity to answer a few FAQs I hear repeatedly:

1) Are you scared?

2) Is it dangerous?

3) What will you be doing?

1) Are you scared?

Of course I'm scared! I'm scared sh!tless, but I'm not going to let it stop me. Inaction and failure are not options here. They simply aren't. They definitely aren't options for the millions who suffer the occupation on a daily basis. I realize I'm waaaay out of my league, and likely biting off far more than I can chew.

Although I manage well in an urban/corporate environment, few of the skills and behaviors I've developed will serve me well in the occupied territories.
As I joked to some friends last week: "Once I get off the plane, I'm in God's hands... Which is problematic, as I'm agnostic!".

2) Is it dangerous?

My opinion on this changes daily, depending on what I read. Here are my present speculations: I think I will be very safe, if not protected, among the Palestinians. Although the IDF (Israeli Defense force) will harass me, they will not shoot me, as there would simply be too much heat. Arrest, incarceration, and deportation are definitely threats faced by observers, such as recounted by this fellow: www.users.bigpond.com/llbarry

The fanatical settlers are a definite threat, as they seem to be pretty bloodthirsty, and accountable to no one. I really don't know what to expect from these people, and see them as an unknown.

Israel is preparing for an invasion of the WB, which will likely take place in parallel with a US invasion of IRAQ. Simultaneously, the US is presently building up troops in Kuwait, ostensibly for an "exercise". Present trends suggest the invasions will take place late OCT, early NOV. If this takes place, I will likely fall out of touch, do not fear... I'm confident I will cope.

The biggest threat, as I see it, will come from "accidents", or stray muntitions. The IDF is characteristically careless about what they fire, where they fire it, and when they fire... ( Shurly not intentionally!?! )... Really, I'll just have to keep my head down, and trust in the odds.

There are hundreds, possibly thounsands of observers and volunteers active in the territories, from a variety of different organizations, with very few being hurt.

The biggest challenge will be pure, unadulterated hardship. This will be a far cry from my comfortable life of morning swims, evening Yoga, and 3 Mochas a day. Inevitably, I will return with a changed outlook. Hopefully, I will not return crazy, or sick of olives. I love olives.

3) What will you be doing?

Well, the specifics of that will be determined at my orientation, in E. Jerusalem, on the 13th. Initially, I had believed I'd be assigned a region with several other observers, howerver, recent actions have been much different. Presently, Observers are gathing en-mass (~60) for large actions such as emergency harvesting of olives. Truly, at this point, I have little idea what I'll be doing, other than to make myself present, and useful in any way I can. I imagine I will be bounced around the region a fair bit, going where I am needed, as I am needed.

-----
Sidenote: Central Amsterdam is a dismal place. It's dismal, drizzly, druggy, dreggy, dirty, and desperate. I am constantly being accosted by dealers and hustlers. There's scores of Cafes, but very little coffee: A cafe is marijuana seller, complete with a menu of 30 differenty types of Marijuana/hash that you can just order and smoke there. Most are accompanied by a Pizza joint in close proximity.

Yesterday I had to explain to an Italian coffee-shop owner how to make a Moccachino. She thought it was a neat idea, and may include it on next season's menu (sigh...). I have finally found a source for fruit salads and Mochas, so things are looking up a little. The architecture is old and incredibly majestic. The people come in all shapes, sizes, colors, and cultures, but the dutch people are generally fine-boned, blue/grey eyed, olive skinned brunettes, with many of the girls looking like Nelly Furtado. I don't particularly feel like talking to anyone, and am just concentrating on research/preparations until I can fly on... I have encountered a doctor from Alberta whom I originally met on the plane, but havn't seen him since. Prob just as well... although he seems like a good egg, I ain't feeling my most personable right now (sick, tired, jet lagged, generally pissy).

Internet cafes here are readily accessible and cheap. Currency is the "Euro", which is almost exactly equal to one US dollar. Bikes are ubiquitous, but are invariably of a casual "euro" style. Out of the thousands of bikes I've seen, not one has been a mountain or a road bike. There are more bikes on the roads than cars, and in fact, a whole lane is marked "Bikes only". Cigarette smoking is legal everywhere, but very few people smoke. Easily 1/2 of the fast food places are North African/Arabic, with signs like "Best Shoarma". There are massive amounts of North Africans here... The signs suggest Egyptian, as opposed to Moroc/Alger/Tunisians. Most MJ smoking takes place in the aforementioned "Cafes", however, one can catch the occasional whiff on the street. I'm constantly being approached by strung-out looking black fellows who want to sell me something. Seeing as MJ is available in stores, I can't imagine what it is they want to sell me. Don't really want to know.

It's hard to find a clean place to go potty. When you do, they are usually manned by someone assigned with their upkeep, and cost .50 Euro.

2002-10-06T00:05:00.000-07:00
I've arrived safely at my intermediate destination, Amsterdam, where I will spend a few days on final preparations/planning before I continue on to Israel.

It was an arduous and long flight, but I met some nice people, including a teutonic engineer who often works in the middle east, and shared the following amusing tidbit with me: Aparrently, there is only one hotel in Bagdhad where internationals may stay. To enter the hotel, guests must walk over a massive tiled mosaic. Although it isn't evident at close range, the mosaic is actually a portrait of George Bush Sr. Too funny.

A note on airport security: My bags checked out ok at Calgary International bag check. On the boarding ramp to the plane, random individuals were singled out for a surprise bag check... I was chosen. Again, my bags checked out ok.

At Minneapolis, I encountered difficulties: I accidentally left the "cleared" area, and thus had to reclear through Airport Security. Right off, you could tell these folks were very serious about what they were doing. The guy on the X-ray flagged my carry-on bag for manual search due to something he saw on his screen... I was at a loss as to what they could have seen. Turns out it was my KFS (Knife/Fork/Spoon Set) . They told me I'd have to leave my knife behind. I felt kind of dumb, as I'd taken care not to pack anything questionable... all the same, it's interesting that I passed two previous checks in Canada.

I'm tired, and have nothing more to add right now regarding my trip. It's presently 2am Calgary time, 9am Amsterdam Time. My Circadian Rhythms are doing the funky chicken.

I do, however, wish to share the following report from an ISM monitor in the West Bank:

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

1-Iraq Burin Attacked, 16 men arrested, IDF admit 'Sorry'
wrong guys...
October 4 2002
Last night 14 jeeps, 80-100 soldiers and 2 tanks (Eyewitnesses
conflict on the sightings of tanks) surrounded 3 houses, a stable
and some caves on the edge of Iraq Burin - a small village poised on
a mountain verge, 4-6km from Nablus city. From 7pm until 12pm today,
the village was besieged by soldiers. During the mini incursiuon
three houses were repeatedly fired on with rockets and bullets
families were evicted from their homes and forced to sleep under the
stars, belongings were smashed and 16 men were arrested, tied up
driven 25 km to Huwara military base, interrogated and then released.

The 16 arrested men, the youngest being just 16-years-old, were in
their separate homes playing cards, sitting with their
families, 'doing nothing' as Abdul Rahim Ahmad Kaduz, the village's
mayor and headmaster of Beit Wazin school puts it, when the attack
occured. The soldiers arrived at 7pm 'looking for terrorists' -
'suspicious Palestinian men' they had seen walking down the street
They shot missiles into Abdul Rahim's house first, clean through the
outer walls into the family rooms, and kitchen, creating see-through
holes 3 to 6 inches wide. Abdul Rahim is a small, shrewd man with a
sardonic, stand-up comic sense of homour. He greets as soon as we
step out of the servis taxi myself and Hussein are lucky enough to
nab on the way into the village. 'Welcome, welcome' he says. He
launches into a 2 minute irate explaination of the events of
the past 16 hours in Arabic, pointing up at the missile holes
flcking the front of the house and the shattered windows, his voice
thick with disgust, pointing here, there and everywhere before
saying, in English, 'But first, I show you the donkey'. Ey? He leads
us, along with 10 or so local shebab (Yoof) and adult men to a sun
scorched clearing before the stable where a donkey is lying,
twitching in the heat. 'This, they shoot seven times, Seven times!
Why?'. Flies are buzzing into the wounds in its side - a rash of raw
sticky dark holes. 'Why they shoot the donkey?'. 'Harram' says
Hussein, shaking his head, (meaning 'it's blasphemy, it's
unacceptable in Islam'). We then visit the outhouse/stable. It's
dark and musty and stinks of offal. A man brings out two chickens,
holding them by their feet. Their necks are broken, hanging loose on
red tendens. We go inside. Light shines down in dusty beams through
a smattering of tiny bullet holes in the roof. 'Look', says Abdul,
pointing to a hole in the ground about 6 inches deep and 30 inches
wide. It was recently, rashly shot or dug out by the soldiers.'The
tuunnels of the terrorists. They think we have people hiding there
below', he says.

Next we get a guided tour of all three houses. One woman was
injured, in her eye, from flying shrapnel. A man from Tell, a
neighbouring village was shot in the foot whilst sitting in his
frien's car. Aside from those two direct hits, the story's pretty
much the same in each house. Never ending gunfire (even when the men
from the houses shouted that they would come out without struggle
and could the soldiers just stop shooting, the bullets didn't stop
flying. The soldiers carried on, firing above their would-be
captives' heads')forced entry, everything turned over/shot at,
and everyone in the house marched out at gunpoint and ordered to
sleep under then trees in a cold night with no possibility of
bringing extra clothing or blankets for the babies or children of
the homes. One man, who had been taking a shower at the time, was
fored out into the night in his underwear and taken to Huwara semi-
naked, without his shoes. During the arrests, a young boy, no older
than 5 years old, saw his father being screamed at by soldiers and a
gun put to his head. When other soldiers began to fire he thought
his father had been killed. 'You shot my father!!' he had yelled in
terror. The shock of the sight and situation and sound had rendered
him mute for an entire day. Before our eyes he looked like many
Palestinian kids I've seen here, post-trauma; sullen,
withdrawn but with slightly stunned, slightly disorientated eyes.

The 16 men had their hands tied behind their backs with plastic cord,
were shoved into military jeeps and taken to Huwara military base,
near the main checkpoint into Nablus. There they were blindfolded,
gagged and bundled into tents from which they were taken, one at a
time, to be interrogated 'by detectives and captains'. Time and time
again they were asked about 'terrorist links' and whether they were
hiding anyone, whether they had seen these new and suspicious
strangers in the village. 'Maybe they were just coming to buy sheep
or sell things' came the rational reply from many of the detainess.
Abdul asked his interogator, 'Why did you crush the houses? Why did
you kill the donkey?' 'Sorry, we just wanted to find the strangers'
came the lame reply. During their entire ordeal at Huwara -
approximately 8-10 hours they were allowed nothing.'No water, no
toilet, no smoking'. Tells us another arrested man. Abdul had 500
shekels stolen from him too. He had 800 on him when taken
in but when his belongings were returned to him in a standard issue
army brown paper bag, 500 of it was missing. The soldier told him he
didn't know what he was talking about. Amazingly, noone was beaten.
At the time, Israeli radio, seemingly taking their info cue from the
IDF reported that 16 'wanted men' had been arrested in Iraq Burin -
8 of them 'very dangerous'.

Abdul takes us into his home. Outside he points to a sagging
electricity cable. 'Here, the soldiers cut the electricity. Then
they come in, and say, 'Turn on all the lights! Turn on the lights
now'. I say, 'how? you cut the power?'. Inside it's like the other
two homes - smashed windows, pounded-in doors, and everything
thoroughly bullet riddled and rifled through. Cracks run along the
walls created by the impact of the missiles - some still hanging in
the walls or entangled in lighting fixtures, and hundreds of bullet
and shrapnel holes pock-mark everything. Mirrors stand jagged,
pieces fractured on the floor, and reams of clothes are scorched
and slashed from wardrobes being axed open and shot through. School
books are torn, furniture upturned, chairs broken, tables axed, TVs
shoved in or exploded. We enter the kitchen. The cupboards are
cracked and sacks of rice and sugar lie ripped open - by bullets or
knives - the contents spilled over the floor, mixed with shattered
glass and bullet cartridges. 'Here, ah, Osama Bin Laden eat here'
jibes Abdul, gesturing about the room with his hand. When we get to
his bedroom he shows us slashed up clothes and burnt holey shirts,
all still hanging in his shot up, now lopsided wardrobe. He coninues
on the Bin Laden tip: 'Here, Osama Bin Laden's clothes' he says. It
may not seem it but it was really funny, just the irony of the
situation and the sarcasm and pure rue in his voice.

After 104 days of curfew, food is scarce in Iraq Burin. 'All people
eat here is just the oil, bread and cheese. No vegetables. Nothing'.
Tells us Abdul. In July, water wells and wheels in the village were
destroyed. The result is unclean water which has led to a break-out
of hepatitis. There is no waterpipe network in the village and
electricity is only available for 7 hours per day. There is a clinic
but no staff. One doctor and one nurse is all that's needed, say
villagers, or a twice weekly visit from the overstretched mobile
health clinic. Many children deparately need imunisation. Roadblocks
and checkpoints have seen to the demolition of that possibility. 15
days ago a preganant woman in labour from iraq Burin was forced to
haver her baby at a roadblock. 40 International volunteers
removed the main roadblock in August but the road was forbidden for
use and re-blocked after seven hours. An army bulldozer - huge,
cranking, screeching metal shacks on treadwheels - shut it. The main
roadblocks have been removed five or six times but every time it is
re-imposed within hours. Many children have been unable to get to
the one school in the village and teachers cannot get to classes. Of
the 11 teaching staff once active at the school, only 3 remain now,
plus the headmaster and a handful of volunteers. The result is a
poverty of education with 60 kids being routinely crammed into one
schoolroom and all the noise, distraction and difficulty in
communication that goes with it.

Before we go, we drink the ubiquitous sugar-thick shai (tea). Over
our steaming sweet shot-cups, Abdul reminisces about teaching in
Nakob prison. Nakob is located in the middle of desert land in
Nablus and held 10,000 prisoners during the first intifada. This
time round it's packing in 3,000. In the beginning it was 'just
scorpions and snakes', says Hussein, 'but then the inmates farmed
the land and people cleaned and learned from one another'. Tanks and
barbed wire surrounded the entire the place but it became, due to
the self-organisation of the people inside, 'like a university'.
People learned Hebrew, English, better Arabic, and survival skills -
physical, technical and emotional. Abdul taught 25 people to read
and write there. 'For free!' he laughs. Every prison has its escape
routes.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

2002-10-03T08:45:00.000-07:00
I Went to See Kym and Nikki at travel agency yesterday to discuss contingency travel plans in case I am refused a tourist Visa in Israel. They were incredibly helpful in planning a backup-itinerary which would take me to a neighboring country from which I could hike to the WB.

It gives me a great deal of peace of mind to know I have options.

I'd like to cover some of my preparations, in the hopes that other ISMers may find the info useful. First, I will list what I am taking, and why I am taking it.

I made special care to have duplicates of important items, and to also pack items with multiple purposes.

What I'm taking:

60L backpack w/ removable daypack. CDN flags sewn on both.

Hiking Shoes / Extra pair of shoes.

Glasses / Extra pair of glasses

Contacts/extra set of contacts/Solution

Lonely Planet guide to Israel - Well worn and dog eared to look touristy.

Money belt - To keep emergency money + passport copy.

Tales of Mystery and Imagination, Edgar Allen Poe: Deciding which book was an important decision, as I see books as tools which provide imagery and ideas to help mine insight from experiences. This book should prove an interesting mining tool on this trip.

1 First Aid Kit

1 pr Combat shorts
1 pr Cargo pants

4 days worth Shirts/Socks/Boxers

"Dromedary Bag" : 4 Litre water bag with extra-tough skin. Will be useful for taking water into areas with broken infrastructure. Can also double as a Pillow when full/inflated.

Iodine Purification Tablets (For the sake of Trivia, Iodine has the added benefit of protecting the Thyroid gland in cases of exposure to nuclear fallout. Despite Bush's threats to nuke Baghdad, I don't think this is a realistic threat... but an interesting piece of trivia nonetheless!)

Cipro: The travel doctor prescribed this antibiotic in case I get the "runs" from bad water. (For the sake of Trivia, this this the same all-purpose anti-biotic is used to treat anthrax. )

1 Mini maglite, 1 Mini-mini Maglite.

1 Swiss Army knife, 1 Leatherman multitool

1 Pr compact bushnell binoculars.

1 pr black cotton gloves.

1 Combination Thermometer/Compass

1 bottle vitamins

1 bottle Ibuprofen

8 extra "aaa" batteries.

1 Solar powered battery charger - Will carry as a gift. Power is often up/down in WB, creating a need for such devices.

1 Canadian Flag - To fly where I stay, also a potential gift.

1 Digital voice recorder for taking notes.

1 Digitial camera

1 MP3 CD player, with 3 CDs full of MP3s (Complete Thomas Dolby collection, Complete Prefab Sprout collection, Complete Anna Domino collection, Complete Bathory collection, Handel, Alan Parsons Project, Enya, Moev, John an Vangelis, other misc songs I like. With the exception of the Bathory, it's all music I find very calming.)

1 Sleeping bag liner - A very lightweight cotton "sleeping bag", well suited to warmer climates. Compact and light.

1 Yoga Mat - So I can practice my yoga on the road, as opportunity allows. The mat's not completely necessary, but it's a familar aid for me. It can also double as padding if I have to sleep on the ground.

1 Ranger Blanket: A lightweight and warm all purpose blanket I got when in the military. Camoflage patterning.

1 lightweight emergency rain jacket.

- I am NOT taking a laptop. Although it would be useful, I decided the weight didn't warrant it. Other ISMers will have laptops, and there are some Internet Cafes in the West Bank. Considering the generally unstable state of infrastructure in the WB, I don't know how much stock I can put in these. I will try to update this journal as often as access allows. Barring that, I will try to communicate entries to my brother in Cowgary via cell phone. I imagine cell phone infrastructure will be more resilient than internet in the case of problems.

- Multiple photocopies of my Passport, distributed around my person and luggage. On the back of each copy is a list of important personal information and misc contact #'s. (CDN Consulate, Telus Calling card gateway in Israel, travel agents, etc....).

- Everything fits into my pack/daypack, so I should have high mobility/agility.

I'll also be notifying the CDN consulate of my presence upon my arrival in Tel Aviv. I've already notified the dept of foreign affairs of my intent to travel to a dangerous area. They've got a great website on travelling abroad, and an easy registration form:

http://www.voyage.gc.ca/Consular-e/SOS/rocapage-e.htm

2002-09-30T22:39:00.000-07:00
I got my shots today.

Although the ISM literature stated that no shots were needed, my own research determined that in the West Bank, I'd be at risk for a few diseases. I decided to consult professionals, and was ultimately referred to the "Odyssey Travel Clinic".

I was first seen by a personable lady doctor, who discussed my destination with me, and the medical peculiarities of the region. She appeared to have up-to-date information on disease ocurrences in all areas of the world. It was ultimately determined that I'd get vaccinations for Diptheria, Polio, Typhoid, Hep A, and a Tetanus booster. This is in additon to my already large resume of childhood/military vaccinations, which includes Whooping cough and Hep B. She said she'd like to vaccinate me for rabies, but that I was leaving too soon to get the required 3 shots. She added that even with a rabies vaccine, I'd still need immediate medical attention in the case of possible exposure. She stressed that if I got bit by a wild animal, to wash the wound thouroughly, and then make my way to a Modern Hospital within 24 hours. She was quite firm on impressing this point on me.

She also went over a few other difficulties I may have over there, and gave me a prescription for the antibiotic Cipro, just in case.

The doctor passed me on to a nurse, who prepared the four needles. We chatted amiably as she gave me two in one arm, one in another, and another in a quad. I never have trouble with needles, but these were exceptional: I hardly felt them. Aparrently she is retiring soon, which is too bad.

Later in the evening, my arms were QUITE sore, though, but I'm sure this is to be expected.

The real pain came at bill-time: $170. A steep price, but money really well spent. I was 100% pleased with my visit, felt I was in really good hands, and would HIGHLY recommend this clinic.

-According to bulletins sent out over the ISM mailing list, the Palestinian city of Nabulus is under heavy shelling by Israeli artillery. As well, it appears that elsewhere in the WB, some olive farmers have decided to start the olive harvest early in order to avoid trouble, but were met with harassment by Israeli Soldiers, who beat them.

-I've just learned that I may have trouble getting a tourist visa in Israel. I've formulated a fallback plan to get to WB should this happen.

2002-09-26T04:59:00.000-07:00
Something I forgot: Yesterday, Zionist activist Naomi Ragan distributed the Cell numbers of several ISM monitors working in the West Bank via her mailing list, along with the suggestion that her readers harass the ISM members.

Ragan is a well-respected Israeli author, and holds a great deal of power to mobilize people. It is a shame she is using her influence in such a cheap manner.

Past efforts to strike up a dialogue with Ms. Ragan have been unsuccessful. She has repeatedly shown herself to be bloodthirsty, exterminationist, racist, and unwilling to consider the possibility of peace with Palestinians.

But urging the prank calling of peace activists, Naomi? That's a new low.

2002-09-25T22:42:00.000-07:00
Getting incredibly busy, and am overwhelmed by preparations. I'm not getting enough of crucial "Dan" time, but am resigned that it's just gonna be busy as heck until I leave. Only myself to blame for leaving early. Travel agency wasn't able to resched, but Lindsey was. Means I'm gonna have a late nite, then an early morning when I leave. O well, plenty to time for me to recuperate on the plane.

2 Days ago, an ISM monitor died when Israeli soldiers shot into a crowd of people. He is the first ISM death.

Aparrently there was an oblique reference in the Sun today, but I havn't had the chance to source it.

See: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/palmediaalert/message/208

For weeks I've maintained that Israel was going to invade the WB when the US invades Iraq, taking advantage of the world's attention being focused away from Israel. It's pretty well a no-brainer for anyone who's been following the Israeli "Incursions" over time.

Well, aparrently a few dozen Israeli academics share my conviction/fear, and have cosigned a condemnation of Israel's war preparations. The release is at www.junity.org , but the site appears to be down right now. I've pasted it below, in any case:

Release from Jewish Unity for a Just peace: http://www.junity.org/
-------------------------------------------------------------------

We, [the undersigned] members of Israeli academe, are horrified by
US buildup of aggression towards Iraq and by the Israeli political
leadership's enthusiastic support for it.

We are deeply worried by indications that the "fog of war" could be
exploited by the Israeli government to commit further crimes against the
Palestinian people, up to full-fledged ethnic cleansing.

The Israeli ruling coalition includes parties that promote "transfer" of
the Palestinian population as a solution to what they call "the
demographic problem". Politicians are regularly quoted in the media as
suggesting forcible expulsion, most recently MKs Michael Kleiner and
Benny Elon, as reported on Yediot Ahronot website on September 19, 2002.

In a recent interview in Ha'aretz, Chief of Staff Moshe Ya'alon
described the Palestinians as a "cancerous manifestation" and equated
the military actions in the Occupied Territories with "chemotherapy",
suggesting that more radical "treatment" may be necessary. Prime Minister
Sharon
has backed this "assessment of reality". Escalating racist demagoguery
concerning the Palestinian citizens of Israel may indicate the scope of
the crimes that are possibly being contemplated.

We call upon the International Community to pay close attention to
events that unfold within Israel and in the Occupied Territories, to
make it absolutely clear that crimes against humanity will not be
tolerated, and to take concrete measures to prevent such crimes from taking
place.

Prof. Colman Altman, Haifa
Dr. Janina Altman, Haifa
Chaya Amir, Tel Aviv
Dr. Shmuel Amir, Tel Aviv
Dr. Meir Amor, Montreal, Canada
Prof. Shalom Baer, Jerusalem
Prof. Matania Ben-Artzi, Jerusalem
Prof. Anat Bilezki, Tel Aviv
Prof. Victoria Buch, Jerusalem
Dr. Nicole Cohen-Addad, Tel Aviv
Dr. Uri Davis, Sakhnin
Prof. Aharon Eviatar, Tel Aviv
Prof. Emmanuel Farjoun, Jerusalem
Dr. Amira Gelblum, Tel Aviv
Prof. Rachel Giora, Tel Aviv
Dr. Anat Goldrat-First, Netanya
Dr. Yerah Gover, New York
Dr. Lev Grinberg, Beer Sheva
Ran HaCohen, Tel Aviv
Prof. Uri Hadar, Tel Aviv
Prof. Hannan Hever, Jerusalem
Dr. Tikva Honig-Parnass, Jerusalem
Prof. Jacob Katriel, Haifa
Prof. Tamar Katriel, Haifa
Prof. Baruch Kimmerling, Jerusalem
Dr. Orly Lubin, Tel Aviv
Dr. Ruchama Marton, Jerusalem
Dr. Anat Matar, Tel Aviv
Rabbi Jeremy Milgrom, Jerusalem
Regev Nathansohn, Tel Aviv
Dr. Ilan Pappe, Haifa
Prof. Zvi Razi, Tel Aviv
Prof. Tanya Reinhart, Tel Aviv
Prof. Freddie Rokem, Tel Aviv
Aharon Shabtai, Tel Aviv
Dr. Michael Yogev, Haifa

---------------------------------------------------------
Jewish Unity for a Just Peace: an international network
of Jewish activists and their organizations who support
a just, viable and lasting peace between Israelis and
Palestinians based on the principles of international law,
requiring a complete end to Israel's Occupation of the WestBank,
East Jerusalem and the Gaza Strip.

2002-09-23T23:50:00.000-07:00
As Julius Caesar crossed the Rubicon river with his army, thus commencing a bloody civil war, he muttered the words "Alea Iacta Est": The die is cast. There is no turning back.

These words ran through my head incessantly as I purchased my tickets today. I've been so excited all day I could hardly sit still. At any moment, felt I could burst into flame suddenly. I feel like the hyper UPS courier off of MAD TV. I considered going for a beer, but that would probably just fuel the fire, and besides, I have much work to do... particularly since I am leaving earlier than originally expected.

Arriving home, I decided to lay in bed for a while to collect my thoughts and calm down. While thinking, I realized that I'd scheduled my departure on the same day of the sendoff Lindsey (bless him) is throwing for me. Hopefully I can reschedule (The flight, of course).

I was still pretty wired, but with the assistance of candles, frankincense, and Anna Domino turned down low, I was able to calm down enough to work.

So much to do...

2002-09-23T01:05:00.000-07:00
test2

2002-09-23T01:03:00.000-07:00
This is a test