I keep getting news from home about the success of Queers Against Israeli Apartheid - 180 in the Dyke March, more probably gathering for the parade as I write this and so I felt the need to blog about it.
I am not really 'out' here in Palestine. Most internationals take one look at me and know right away that I'm queer, but I've been mistaken for a hetero by many service drivers, random folks I've met and even people I have become friends with here. I get the impression that people think I spend too much time with my 'roommate' who I talk about an awful lot and I know they worry about me being 28, unwed and barren. It's weird not being out and can, at times, be isolating because I can't really talk about my life completely.
The reason I have chosen not to 'out' myself is largely because my only reasons for doing so would be selfish and arrogant. I do not want to be like the feminists I clashed with weeks ago who felt that it was their right to criticize Palestinian society without understanding the complex power dynamics at play and especially not the local feminist resistance going on all around them. I cannot claim to understand the experiences of queer people here and I don't need pull some typical Western superiority nonsense by talking about how I'm free to be a big old homo at home and complaining about not being free to be me here. First of all, doing so would in no way further queer Palestinian rights. Just like those women berating Palestinian men about their wives' veiling practices does nothing to help anyone, me freaking out about a homophobic comment is in no way useful. I can and do, however, talk about the solidarity efforts of queers back home, because I do think that can open up dialogue that is based on the notion of solidarity and justice, which is more productive. I think that like in the case of South Africa where international queer solidarity influenced ANC views on queer rights, queers joining the struggle against israeli partheid worldwide might have a positive side effect of challenging homophobia through solidarity, instead of condescension and imperialism.
I also would not claim to be a free homo because that would actually be disingenuous. The backlash against QuAIA was led by a cast of characters I know intimately - B'nai Brith and other Zionist homophobic opportunists, who are trying to use Israel's newfound love of queers to further their racist, apartheid-lovin' agenda. It's these same forces that tried to make me conform all those years ago in the sexist, transphobic, homophobic Zionist indoctrination system I was raised in. I'm sure my homophobic, racist family are quite confused by this latest controversy - is B'nai Brith really telling them that they have to give up their homophobia to support their racism? Oye. I think that they must not know what to hope for, except that I don't get on the news again and embarass them further.
Israel and the mainstream Zionist, Jewish community are homophobic. They can pretend not to be, but we know differently. Yes, there was no Pride parade in Palestine and there were parades in several Israeli cities. Even forgetting the military presense required to keep queer Israelis from getting stabbed at Pride (happened a few years ago in Jerusalem), no amount of Israeli queer parading and partying makes me, as a queer person, want to allign myself with Israel nor does it somehow convince me that on account of the homophobia in Palestine, Palestinians deserve to live under an Apartheid system. That's Zionist logic, borrowing from imperialist notions of civlity. The argument goes like this: countries that extend gay rights are civilized and those that do not are uncivilized - the uncivilized deserve no human rights, freedom or dignity because of their incivility. You see, civilized Israel lets gays into their army so that they can freely excercise their now gay right to terrorize and kill Palestinians. Just so we're clear, that gays can serve in the Israeli Army only proves is that in this incredibly racist context, at this particular time in history, allegiance to racism gets some gays some legitimacy. That's complicity, not liberation.
And speaking of parades, let's not forget that parades and demonstrations under occupation are hard to pull off - just ask the organizers of May Day and International Women's Day Celebrations that were either cancelled or held without permits all over the West Bank this year. Palestinian social movements face the incredible challenge of mobilizing when their leaders are killed or arrested and their members don't have the freedom to assemble. Yet they still fight on, struggling against apartheid and also trying to make change within their own society, which is hard anywhere, under the best of conditions. If we want to support Palestinian queers, we have to fight apartheid, because we can't separate these issues.
Ok, I'm done. Happy Pride everyone. I promise that this will be the last big gay blog...
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Jerusalem Pride vs Ni'lin
This past week I went to two completely different demonstrations. One was Jerusalem Pride and the other was the weekly protest against the Apartheid Wall in Ni'lin. I was going to blog about them separately, but it seemed fitting to put them into this one blog to give you a better sense of the massive contrasts between the West Bank and '48 and between the concerns of Jewish Israelis and those of Palestinians.
On Thursday, the annual Jerusalem Pride parade took place. I went with my video camera, eager to film some ridiculous backlash which I could then bring home to show people how queers are treated in Israel - the only safe place for homos in the Middle East. Now before I get into what I saw at J-Pride, I need to talk about the ordeal of getting there. I am in Ramallah, a city that should only be a short drive from Jerusalem. With the Wall and checkpoints, that is totally not the case. First I had to take a service (cab/bus) to Qalandia, where I had to get out and walk through the checkpoint. I had to wait in line (short line because it was 2pm, other times it would have been much longer), put my bag through an x-ray machine, then present my passport to some 18 year-old Israeli soldier. I'm lucky - I have a Canadian passport, so I was allowed through. No queer Palestinians with West Bank ID could have come to Jerusalem Pride. I then got on another bus into the Old City where I had to scramble to buy credit for my Israeli phone card because my Palestinian SIM card does not work outside the West Bank - the Israelis don't let Jawwal build towers there. I met up with some folks and we went into West Jerusalem. I have been in the West Bank for over 3 weeks and have gotten used to the level of poverty here. I have gotten used to seeing dirty streets because of lack of proper waste management, people selling whatever they can on the roadside, houses and roads in disrepair etc. It wasn't until I saw the affluence on the other side of the Wall that the poverty in the West Bank really hit me again.
Now Pride itself. It started in a park, which was surrounded by police and soldiers. We were thoroughly searched going in. In the 'boys' line, we saw them search a soldier fo concealed weapons, even though he was carrying a giant gun. Insane. The parade was uneventful - there were more police and soldiers than participants and no visible counter-demo because of the intense military presence. A quick note to queer Zionists here: if you need the military to protect you, your country still has some serious homophobia issues. Seriously, it's time for you to shut up about it being the only safe place in the middle east for queers.
The parade ended in 'Independence Park' where there were speeches and terrible musical performances (I kid you not, one guy did an acoustic version of Brittany Spears' Toxic). Unlike the friends I was with, I could actually understand the speeches, which was really unfortunate. They started off talking about Gilad Shalit, the Israeli soldier who was captured in Gaza three years ago. Pride was on the anniversary of his capture, so I got to hear all about him. Then the rest of the speeches talked about how Jerusalem needs to be a free city, welcoming to everyone. There was lots of talk about human rights and diversity. Honestly, it would have been so easy for them to link the queer struggle to the anti-apartheid movement, but of course these queer zionists didn't seize that opportunity. The communists, to their credit had signs that said 'gay against the occupation' and I think the anarchists were up to some shenanigans, but other than that it was a queer Zionist nightmare. And not even that queer - these liberated Israeli queers did very little actually queer stuff, I only saw two boys makeout the entire time. So much for their freedom to just be. The highlight for me was seeing this sign (picture soon, although it's in Hebrew so you'll have to trust me on the translation) that had a map of Palestine, although they would call it Israel, with an Israeli flag marking Jerusalem. It said 'I don't don't tell you how to live here'. Ah, the hypocrisy was overwhelming. I fled back to Ramallah as quickly as I could. The cab driver who ripped us off on the way, sure didn't want to drive us to the Arab quarter to catch our bus.
The next day I got up bright and early to head to Ni'lin for the weekly demonstration. I was told it was calmer than usual in part because the heat and two weddings in the village reduced the number of demonstrators. Plus the Israelis seem to be shifting tactics slightly - last week they brought journalists to Bil'in and Ni'lin and just stood there getting hit by rocks. No tear gas, no bullets, just a great photo op. There were no journalists on Friday so even though it was calm, a calm Friday in Ni'lin still involves the Israelis using a jeep that can fire 32 tear gas canisters at once. We would go up as close to the fence as possible and chant, the youth would throw stones and then every so often, this jeep would drive down the hill and fire a barrage of tear gas. We would run back, the gas would hit us and then pass after some time and then we would go back up to the fence. For anyone that doesn't understand the Wall and settlements, they only need to spend about 30 seconds on the hilltop in Ni'lin. The Wall is being constructed right on their land and as far as you can see, there are settlements built on land already stolen. I kept thinking of that stupid sign at Pride 'I don't tell you how to live here'.
The connection between these two events for me is that its the same army firing on ni'lin that as protecting queer Israelis from other Israelis. These issues are so deeply connected, especially in the lives of queer Palestinians who face homophobia and apartheid. I won't be in Toronto to march with Queers Against Israeli Apartheid this week, but I'm with them in spirit from here in Ramallah. At least we can try to make Toronto Pride political again, cuz J-Pride was a depressing, Zionist mess.
On Thursday, the annual Jerusalem Pride parade took place. I went with my video camera, eager to film some ridiculous backlash which I could then bring home to show people how queers are treated in Israel - the only safe place for homos in the Middle East. Now before I get into what I saw at J-Pride, I need to talk about the ordeal of getting there. I am in Ramallah, a city that should only be a short drive from Jerusalem. With the Wall and checkpoints, that is totally not the case. First I had to take a service (cab/bus) to Qalandia, where I had to get out and walk through the checkpoint. I had to wait in line (short line because it was 2pm, other times it would have been much longer), put my bag through an x-ray machine, then present my passport to some 18 year-old Israeli soldier. I'm lucky - I have a Canadian passport, so I was allowed through. No queer Palestinians with West Bank ID could have come to Jerusalem Pride. I then got on another bus into the Old City where I had to scramble to buy credit for my Israeli phone card because my Palestinian SIM card does not work outside the West Bank - the Israelis don't let Jawwal build towers there. I met up with some folks and we went into West Jerusalem. I have been in the West Bank for over 3 weeks and have gotten used to the level of poverty here. I have gotten used to seeing dirty streets because of lack of proper waste management, people selling whatever they can on the roadside, houses and roads in disrepair etc. It wasn't until I saw the affluence on the other side of the Wall that the poverty in the West Bank really hit me again.
Now Pride itself. It started in a park, which was surrounded by police and soldiers. We were thoroughly searched going in. In the 'boys' line, we saw them search a soldier fo concealed weapons, even though he was carrying a giant gun. Insane. The parade was uneventful - there were more police and soldiers than participants and no visible counter-demo because of the intense military presence. A quick note to queer Zionists here: if you need the military to protect you, your country still has some serious homophobia issues. Seriously, it's time for you to shut up about it being the only safe place in the middle east for queers.
The parade ended in 'Independence Park' where there were speeches and terrible musical performances (I kid you not, one guy did an acoustic version of Brittany Spears' Toxic). Unlike the friends I was with, I could actually understand the speeches, which was really unfortunate. They started off talking about Gilad Shalit, the Israeli soldier who was captured in Gaza three years ago. Pride was on the anniversary of his capture, so I got to hear all about him. Then the rest of the speeches talked about how Jerusalem needs to be a free city, welcoming to everyone. There was lots of talk about human rights and diversity. Honestly, it would have been so easy for them to link the queer struggle to the anti-apartheid movement, but of course these queer zionists didn't seize that opportunity. The communists, to their credit had signs that said 'gay against the occupation' and I think the anarchists were up to some shenanigans, but other than that it was a queer Zionist nightmare. And not even that queer - these liberated Israeli queers did very little actually queer stuff, I only saw two boys makeout the entire time. So much for their freedom to just be. The highlight for me was seeing this sign (picture soon, although it's in Hebrew so you'll have to trust me on the translation) that had a map of Palestine, although they would call it Israel, with an Israeli flag marking Jerusalem. It said 'I don't don't tell you how to live here'. Ah, the hypocrisy was overwhelming. I fled back to Ramallah as quickly as I could. The cab driver who ripped us off on the way, sure didn't want to drive us to the Arab quarter to catch our bus.
The next day I got up bright and early to head to Ni'lin for the weekly demonstration. I was told it was calmer than usual in part because the heat and two weddings in the village reduced the number of demonstrators. Plus the Israelis seem to be shifting tactics slightly - last week they brought journalists to Bil'in and Ni'lin and just stood there getting hit by rocks. No tear gas, no bullets, just a great photo op. There were no journalists on Friday so even though it was calm, a calm Friday in Ni'lin still involves the Israelis using a jeep that can fire 32 tear gas canisters at once. We would go up as close to the fence as possible and chant, the youth would throw stones and then every so often, this jeep would drive down the hill and fire a barrage of tear gas. We would run back, the gas would hit us and then pass after some time and then we would go back up to the fence. For anyone that doesn't understand the Wall and settlements, they only need to spend about 30 seconds on the hilltop in Ni'lin. The Wall is being constructed right on their land and as far as you can see, there are settlements built on land already stolen. I kept thinking of that stupid sign at Pride 'I don't tell you how to live here'.
The connection between these two events for me is that its the same army firing on ni'lin that as protecting queer Israelis from other Israelis. These issues are so deeply connected, especially in the lives of queer Palestinians who face homophobia and apartheid. I won't be in Toronto to march with Queers Against Israeli Apartheid this week, but I'm with them in spirit from here in Ramallah. At least we can try to make Toronto Pride political again, cuz J-Pride was a depressing, Zionist mess.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Random Thoughts
I haven't blogged in a while because I haven't really had consistent internet access. So this will be kind of a rambling rant of things I've been thinking about in the last week or so, in no particular order.
I have been talking to a lot of other internationals and we all seem to agree that Palestine was not what we expected. Back home we talk so much about oppression and apartheid, that I think we all naively assume we're walking into the kind of war zone we see on TV. Then you get to the West Bank and people are going about their daily life. You eat in restaurants, meet friends for coffee, see people studying, getting married etc. Besides the cultural and language differences that are expected with travel, sometimes being here isn't that different from your life at home. But then it hits you in certain moments or when you take the time to think about it. Then you see the violence that is everywhere. I've had many of these moments recently and I'll sum up just a few:
I was talking to a teenager who had just gotten back from a camp that brings kids from the West Bank together with kids from Jerusalem and 48. She was telling me how hard it was to explain to the others why she couldn't come visit them. Palestinians with West Bank IDs can't travel to Jerusalem or anywhere in '48 without a permit. Palestinian citizens of Israel can't come to most parts of the West Bank without a permit. Marriage between people with different IDs can be nearly impossible - I met a man on a bus who told me that he was marrying a girl from 48 and they were moving to London because it's the only place they can live together. Immobility is violence and part of the on-going ethnic cleansing. That my passport and white skin allow me to so easily go to these places makes me even more angry because I have no connection to this land and am allowed to see it all, while the people I meet here, who are deeply connected to it, are denied access. This is all making me question my presence here as an international with so much privilege.
A few days ago I was at the Alternative Information Centre in Beit Sahour and we were watching a film that was shot, in part, during the invasion of Bethlehem during the 2nd Intifada. I watched footage of places I had just been a few weeks ago, but was seeing them as the war zone they were back in 2002. While watching the movie, it hit me that, in some ways, I have been treating Palestine like a war memorial. I was visiting places where massacres and invasions had occurred. I was visiting cemeteries and monuments dedicated to martyrs who died resisting Israeli Apartheid. Earlier that same day I had visited Jenin and seen the refugee camp that had been mostly destroyed during the massacre that took place there during the Intifada. Everything I saw was heartbreaking, but I think I was perceiving a lot of it in some ways as past tense. Watching that movie, for some reason, shook me back into the present. With checkpoints everywhere, and one of the world's largest militaries able to mobilize at any time, the violent invasions and massacres of the past are a constant threat in the present and, are, of course, still the present in Gaza. It is this threat that makes resistance all the more necessary, but for the people here, that much more dangerous. That's the collective punishment - people here know that resistance can and will be met with retribution on everyone here. The Israelis, no doubt, count on this as a way of trying to kill the resistance that they can't kill with assassinations and arrests.
The last thought I want to relay comes from visiting Jenin. When the camp was rebuilt, they made the roads wide enough for tanks to come in. The official line was that this would prevent house demolitions that often occur as Israelis bulldoze homes to make way for tanks on narrow streets. When comparing Jenin to other camps (I will try to post pictures later to show this visually), one could think that the wide streets are a vast improvement. But then, when you think about how much more easily the Israelis can now enter and occupy the camp because of these streets, you realize that most changes here that may seem positive either have a horrible backstory or an even more horrible purpose. This was reinforced for me when I was visiting a park near Bethlehem that had been built on an old military base. Seems like such a nice idea - military base becomes a park. Then you learn that a lot of the building had to be done quickly and quietly because permits were denied or that the settlers come at least once a week to attack families that are playing because settlers can't stand to see Palestinians have even a little happiness or dignity. Everything here has another story below the surface - the stories of apartheid and occupation.
I think it's important for people to see daily life in Palestine - because going on with life is its own form of resistance and also because I think it's wrong to only know about the oppression in people's lives and not to know about their actual lives. That said, we can't just look at the present 'calm' here in the West Bank (calm relative to the intifada, that is) and forget the violence that is ever present and the threat of even more violence that can come at any minute.
I have been talking to a lot of other internationals and we all seem to agree that Palestine was not what we expected. Back home we talk so much about oppression and apartheid, that I think we all naively assume we're walking into the kind of war zone we see on TV. Then you get to the West Bank and people are going about their daily life. You eat in restaurants, meet friends for coffee, see people studying, getting married etc. Besides the cultural and language differences that are expected with travel, sometimes being here isn't that different from your life at home. But then it hits you in certain moments or when you take the time to think about it. Then you see the violence that is everywhere. I've had many of these moments recently and I'll sum up just a few:
I was talking to a teenager who had just gotten back from a camp that brings kids from the West Bank together with kids from Jerusalem and 48. She was telling me how hard it was to explain to the others why she couldn't come visit them. Palestinians with West Bank IDs can't travel to Jerusalem or anywhere in '48 without a permit. Palestinian citizens of Israel can't come to most parts of the West Bank without a permit. Marriage between people with different IDs can be nearly impossible - I met a man on a bus who told me that he was marrying a girl from 48 and they were moving to London because it's the only place they can live together. Immobility is violence and part of the on-going ethnic cleansing. That my passport and white skin allow me to so easily go to these places makes me even more angry because I have no connection to this land and am allowed to see it all, while the people I meet here, who are deeply connected to it, are denied access. This is all making me question my presence here as an international with so much privilege.
A few days ago I was at the Alternative Information Centre in Beit Sahour and we were watching a film that was shot, in part, during the invasion of Bethlehem during the 2nd Intifada. I watched footage of places I had just been a few weeks ago, but was seeing them as the war zone they were back in 2002. While watching the movie, it hit me that, in some ways, I have been treating Palestine like a war memorial. I was visiting places where massacres and invasions had occurred. I was visiting cemeteries and monuments dedicated to martyrs who died resisting Israeli Apartheid. Earlier that same day I had visited Jenin and seen the refugee camp that had been mostly destroyed during the massacre that took place there during the Intifada. Everything I saw was heartbreaking, but I think I was perceiving a lot of it in some ways as past tense. Watching that movie, for some reason, shook me back into the present. With checkpoints everywhere, and one of the world's largest militaries able to mobilize at any time, the violent invasions and massacres of the past are a constant threat in the present and, are, of course, still the present in Gaza. It is this threat that makes resistance all the more necessary, but for the people here, that much more dangerous. That's the collective punishment - people here know that resistance can and will be met with retribution on everyone here. The Israelis, no doubt, count on this as a way of trying to kill the resistance that they can't kill with assassinations and arrests.
The last thought I want to relay comes from visiting Jenin. When the camp was rebuilt, they made the roads wide enough for tanks to come in. The official line was that this would prevent house demolitions that often occur as Israelis bulldoze homes to make way for tanks on narrow streets. When comparing Jenin to other camps (I will try to post pictures later to show this visually), one could think that the wide streets are a vast improvement. But then, when you think about how much more easily the Israelis can now enter and occupy the camp because of these streets, you realize that most changes here that may seem positive either have a horrible backstory or an even more horrible purpose. This was reinforced for me when I was visiting a park near Bethlehem that had been built on an old military base. Seems like such a nice idea - military base becomes a park. Then you learn that a lot of the building had to be done quickly and quietly because permits were denied or that the settlers come at least once a week to attack families that are playing because settlers can't stand to see Palestinians have even a little happiness or dignity. Everything here has another story below the surface - the stories of apartheid and occupation.
I think it's important for people to see daily life in Palestine - because going on with life is its own form of resistance and also because I think it's wrong to only know about the oppression in people's lives and not to know about their actual lives. That said, we can't just look at the present 'calm' here in the West Bank (calm relative to the intifada, that is) and forget the violence that is ever present and the threat of even more violence that can come at any minute.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Nablus
Ok, so after 4 days of trying to fit in with the wimmin/womben/wimbinyomen,I gave up. I decided to come to Nablus, where I'm staying with the family of an activist from Najah university. I've been meeting some amazing people who are doing important work here, including familiar stuff like the Right to Education Campaign and Israeli Apartheid Week. It was great to swap stories of fighting administrations and creative actions. The OCAP wall was especially well received.
It's hard to explain Nablus really. There is a bustling downtown and a university campus that, besides the intense security (I needed a professor to vouch for me to get in as a non-student), could be any campus I've been too. It was on the way from the university to the Old City that Nablus really hit me. We stopped in the cemetery, which is the burial place of many of the martyrs from the recent intifada. I was told stories of people who had been killed - babies who had been shot, people assassinated in their homes, fighters killed in battle and, perhaps the most difficult grave to visit was that of a whole family that had been crushed when the army bulldozed their house to make way for the tanks. The grave was marked April 9-15th because nobody knows when the family died - they were trapped for so long. The man taking me on this trip - a professor whose mother was killed in the invasion and who is suing the Israelis for her death - put it simply: this is the end result of the occupation.
We then went to the Old City, one of the oldest in the world. I had known that Nablus had been invaded and had been under siege, but when I pictured the fighting, it wasn't in such narrow streets. I can't really explain how tight these spaces are, but the narrowness of the streets insured that the injured had no way to escape or be rescued. It also meant massive house demolitions as the Israelis bulldozed houses near the entrance so their tanks could enter this ancient city. They also cleared many homes, including one area home to 13 families, just to create areas where they could store their equipment. The bullet holes, martyr posters/monuments and houses yet to be rebuilt are constant reminders of the intifada. Not that reminders are really needed in a city that is still surrounded by 7 checkpoints, sees almost nightly incursions for arrests and that has F16s flying overhead all the time, breaking the sound barrier just to terrorize the people living here.
The people I've met are mostly younger than me, in their early 20s, which means they were really young teenagers during the siege and invasion. They tell terrible stories of closure, curfew, bombings and attacks. But they are also here, living their lives and working to organize in their university to keep the resistance alive. It's been an incredible experience here in Nablus.
I also went to Balata refugee camp near Nablus and will be volunteering there at the Jaffa Cultural Centre. I've just started there and will post more soon about all that.
It's hard to explain Nablus really. There is a bustling downtown and a university campus that, besides the intense security (I needed a professor to vouch for me to get in as a non-student), could be any campus I've been too. It was on the way from the university to the Old City that Nablus really hit me. We stopped in the cemetery, which is the burial place of many of the martyrs from the recent intifada. I was told stories of people who had been killed - babies who had been shot, people assassinated in their homes, fighters killed in battle and, perhaps the most difficult grave to visit was that of a whole family that had been crushed when the army bulldozed their house to make way for the tanks. The grave was marked April 9-15th because nobody knows when the family died - they were trapped for so long. The man taking me on this trip - a professor whose mother was killed in the invasion and who is suing the Israelis for her death - put it simply: this is the end result of the occupation.
We then went to the Old City, one of the oldest in the world. I had known that Nablus had been invaded and had been under siege, but when I pictured the fighting, it wasn't in such narrow streets. I can't really explain how tight these spaces are, but the narrowness of the streets insured that the injured had no way to escape or be rescued. It also meant massive house demolitions as the Israelis bulldozed houses near the entrance so their tanks could enter this ancient city. They also cleared many homes, including one area home to 13 families, just to create areas where they could store their equipment. The bullet holes, martyr posters/monuments and houses yet to be rebuilt are constant reminders of the intifada. Not that reminders are really needed in a city that is still surrounded by 7 checkpoints, sees almost nightly incursions for arrests and that has F16s flying overhead all the time, breaking the sound barrier just to terrorize the people living here.
The people I've met are mostly younger than me, in their early 20s, which means they were really young teenagers during the siege and invasion. They tell terrible stories of closure, curfew, bombings and attacks. But they are also here, living their lives and working to organize in their university to keep the resistance alive. It's been an incredible experience here in Nablus.
I also went to Balata refugee camp near Nablus and will be volunteering there at the Jaffa Cultural Centre. I've just started there and will post more soon about all that.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Bil'in
Today we joined in the demonstrations in Bil'in. For those of you that don't know, Bil'in is a village that is being devastated by Israel's Apartheid Wall and the illegal settlements that continue to encroach on their land. The people of Bil'in are engaging in really inspiring resistance against the Wall. For more info, visit their website here.
One aspect of the resistance is a weekly demonstration that involves local Palestinians, Israeli activists (mostly from Anarchists Against the Wall) and internationals. I chose to participate in these demonstrations because the popular committees in these villages have specifically asked for international support. The demonstrations have been going on for over 5 years despite the extremely violent and at times lethal response of the Israeli army. Recently, the Israelis have increased the violence of their suppression of these demonstrations - last Friday in Ni'lin they killed a protester named Yoursif Srour who was 35 years old and had a wife and three children. He was the fifth person from Ni'lin who has been killed during demonstrations against the Wall in the village. A few months ago, they killed a young man named Bassem in Bil'in - he was killed when a high velocity tear gas canisters was fired directly at him at close range.
The Bil'in demo was particularly relevant for me right now because the village is currently suing two Canadian companies - Green Park and Green Mount - for building illegal settlements. The case begins on June 22nd in Quebec and there is currently a delegation from Bil'in traveling in Canada, talking about the case.
The demo today was pretty standard from what I've told. We gathered in the village after Friday prayers and began a march towards the wall. Before the front of the demo got to the wall, the tear gas was launched. The Israelis lobbed huge amounts of tear gas for almost an hour. Most of us left the front line after a short time because the gas was overwhelming, but several Palestinian youth stayed to confront the soldiers. It was incredible that they could withstand the gas for so long. They fought back with rocks and at times threw unexploded canisters right back at the soldiers. Eventually, the demo ended. Everyone was a bit ill from the gas and two people we injured in the onslaught, but nobody was seriously hurt.
Today at the demo there was a large Code Pink contingent from the US. Code Pink is a women's peace organization that has recently tried, and occasionally succeeded, at getting food and supplies into Gaza. For the most part, they were respectful, but at one point, several of them expressed anger at the youth throwing rocks. They insisted that they were told that this was a 'non-violent' protest and were disappointed in the violence of the rock throwers. I obviously got into an argument with them. I was not asking those women to go to the front and stand with the youth, but I was asking them to respect their choice to do so. Still, they really felt justified in judging the resistance even as these kids were being bombarded with noxious gas. I am so tired of engaging in this non-violence debate with other people who are not Palestinian. This is a Palestinian led movement and it is not our place to judge the resistance. It is definitely not our place to demand non-violence in the face of the extreme violence that the Israelis commit against Palestinians everyday. What we should have been talking about today is that launching dozens of tear gas canisters against a small group of people who are throwing some stones is a disproportionate use of force, which is against international law. Rather than judging the resistance, we should be talking about what we can do to support it - like joining in demonstrations when asked or, perhaps more importantly, working on building the BDS (Boycott Divestment and Sanctions) movement in the places we live.
And so my concerns about the role of internationals here, myself included, continue to grow...
One aspect of the resistance is a weekly demonstration that involves local Palestinians, Israeli activists (mostly from Anarchists Against the Wall) and internationals. I chose to participate in these demonstrations because the popular committees in these villages have specifically asked for international support. The demonstrations have been going on for over 5 years despite the extremely violent and at times lethal response of the Israeli army. Recently, the Israelis have increased the violence of their suppression of these demonstrations - last Friday in Ni'lin they killed a protester named Yoursif Srour who was 35 years old and had a wife and three children. He was the fifth person from Ni'lin who has been killed during demonstrations against the Wall in the village. A few months ago, they killed a young man named Bassem in Bil'in - he was killed when a high velocity tear gas canisters was fired directly at him at close range.
The Bil'in demo was particularly relevant for me right now because the village is currently suing two Canadian companies - Green Park and Green Mount - for building illegal settlements. The case begins on June 22nd in Quebec and there is currently a delegation from Bil'in traveling in Canada, talking about the case.
The demo today was pretty standard from what I've told. We gathered in the village after Friday prayers and began a march towards the wall. Before the front of the demo got to the wall, the tear gas was launched. The Israelis lobbed huge amounts of tear gas for almost an hour. Most of us left the front line after a short time because the gas was overwhelming, but several Palestinian youth stayed to confront the soldiers. It was incredible that they could withstand the gas for so long. They fought back with rocks and at times threw unexploded canisters right back at the soldiers. Eventually, the demo ended. Everyone was a bit ill from the gas and two people we injured in the onslaught, but nobody was seriously hurt.
Today at the demo there was a large Code Pink contingent from the US. Code Pink is a women's peace organization that has recently tried, and occasionally succeeded, at getting food and supplies into Gaza. For the most part, they were respectful, but at one point, several of them expressed anger at the youth throwing rocks. They insisted that they were told that this was a 'non-violent' protest and were disappointed in the violence of the rock throwers. I obviously got into an argument with them. I was not asking those women to go to the front and stand with the youth, but I was asking them to respect their choice to do so. Still, they really felt justified in judging the resistance even as these kids were being bombarded with noxious gas. I am so tired of engaging in this non-violence debate with other people who are not Palestinian. This is a Palestinian led movement and it is not our place to judge the resistance. It is definitely not our place to demand non-violence in the face of the extreme violence that the Israelis commit against Palestinians everyday. What we should have been talking about today is that launching dozens of tear gas canisters against a small group of people who are throwing some stones is a disproportionate use of force, which is against international law. Rather than judging the resistance, we should be talking about what we can do to support it - like joining in demonstrations when asked or, perhaps more importantly, working on building the BDS (Boycott Divestment and Sanctions) movement in the places we live.
And so my concerns about the role of internationals here, myself included, continue to grow...
I am woman?
After some plans changed, I decided to start my stint with the International Women's Peace Service (IWPS) a few days early. For those of you that know me well, you're probably thinking umm, dude, 'women' 'peace', yeah none of that describes you at all - what are you thinking? It's true that I'm no pacifist and I really don't identify all that much with 'womanhood', but I came here because this is an organization that came highly recommended from a whole bunch of people both here in Palestine and back home. I'm clearly uncomfortable with the woman thing and am having some more serious issues with the idea of non-violence (more about that in my next post), but still, they have great connections and seem to be well respected by the community here. Being here has not in any way lessened my serious concerns about the role of internationals in Palestine. I still maintain that my purpose in coming is not to swoop in like some great white saviour - I'm here to learn as much as I can in order to make me a better activist back home. At this point, I need to rely on organizations like the IWPS to make connections with people here that I can learn from. If I can do some good work while being here, great. If I think I'm doing harm, I'm outta here.
So last night we got a call around 11pm from a nearby village - Kifl Haris. They called because the army was all over the village, which was under closure. We were asked to come to observe, document and intervene if needed. Two of us went - we took a taxi to the village, but were stopped on our way in. The soldiers told the driver - in Hebrew - that we would have to walk. They let us into the village and we headed towards the centre of town. It was there that we found out what was going on. Inside Kifl Haris lies the 'Tomb of Joshua'. Every so often, settlers decide to come into the village to pray and celebrate at the tomb. Last night was one of those nights, so the entire village was taken over by soldiers so that two bus loads of settlers could come to the tomb. They were there all night. Beyond the violence of closure, there were no physical altercations and the people from the village told us that our presence wasn't needed and we went home. We did take some pictures to document the incident.
Now someone who didn't have the misfortune of 10 years of Orthodox Hebrew school might have assumed that this tomb is a very holy site in Judaism and that last night was an important Jewish festival. Not true. Last night was just Thursday - no holiday at all. Apparently there was a huge celebration on Joshua's birthday a few month ago - that's not a Jewish holiday. In fact, it's probably sacrilegious to worship a prophet like that. Isn't that why Jews frown upon Christmas? Also, I was taught that Jews don't tend to pray at so-called holy sites. This may betray the Ashkenazi (European) Jewish bias of my education and may only be true of Jews like my ancestors who lived for centuries far away from these sites and communicated with good ole g-d just fine. Still, all the settlers were white Jews who have only recently invented these 'traditions' as an excuse to invade and terrorize Palestinian villages.
This is just more proof that the so-called 'conflict' here is not about religion - it never has been. This is apartheid and colonization - even if it wears a kippa. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise because it's simply not true. Last night, these violent settlers created a fake celebration to worship at the tomb of someone not all that revered in Judaism; they did it as a show of force - plain and simple.
So last night we got a call around 11pm from a nearby village - Kifl Haris. They called because the army was all over the village, which was under closure. We were asked to come to observe, document and intervene if needed. Two of us went - we took a taxi to the village, but were stopped on our way in. The soldiers told the driver - in Hebrew - that we would have to walk. They let us into the village and we headed towards the centre of town. It was there that we found out what was going on. Inside Kifl Haris lies the 'Tomb of Joshua'. Every so often, settlers decide to come into the village to pray and celebrate at the tomb. Last night was one of those nights, so the entire village was taken over by soldiers so that two bus loads of settlers could come to the tomb. They were there all night. Beyond the violence of closure, there were no physical altercations and the people from the village told us that our presence wasn't needed and we went home. We did take some pictures to document the incident.
Now someone who didn't have the misfortune of 10 years of Orthodox Hebrew school might have assumed that this tomb is a very holy site in Judaism and that last night was an important Jewish festival. Not true. Last night was just Thursday - no holiday at all. Apparently there was a huge celebration on Joshua's birthday a few month ago - that's not a Jewish holiday. In fact, it's probably sacrilegious to worship a prophet like that. Isn't that why Jews frown upon Christmas? Also, I was taught that Jews don't tend to pray at so-called holy sites. This may betray the Ashkenazi (European) Jewish bias of my education and may only be true of Jews like my ancestors who lived for centuries far away from these sites and communicated with good ole g-d just fine. Still, all the settlers were white Jews who have only recently invented these 'traditions' as an excuse to invade and terrorize Palestinian villages.
This is just more proof that the so-called 'conflict' here is not about religion - it never has been. This is apartheid and colonization - even if it wears a kippa. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise because it's simply not true. Last night, these violent settlers created a fake celebration to worship at the tomb of someone not all that revered in Judaism; they did it as a show of force - plain and simple.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Husan
Yesterday I had the chance to visit Husan, one of the villages near Bethlehem. I went with some folks from an NGO who had some work to do. I got a tour of the entire village and met many of the families there. There were tons of young people – teens and early twenties – just hanging out everywhere. This is one of the many repercussions of Oslo – the massive rates of unemployment which have occurred because people with West Bank ID can no longer legally work in '48 (for those of you reading this who may not be familiar with the anti-Zionist language, '48 refers to the parts of historic Palestine that were colonized in 1948, but before 1967 – what Israelis, Zionists and most people in the West would call 'Israel proper'). One of the houses we visited was this lavish home, but the people living in there live in extreme poverty. They bought the house when they earned better wages working on '48, but now have little to no income.
The village I was in is on the Israeli side of the Wall. For now it can be accessed from Bethlehem, but it is very likely to be cut off soon. There is a lot of water near or on their land, which is why they find themselves on the Israeli side of the border. I was shown one of the springs that feeds water to the farmlands – it was really beautiful, but made me feel so sad/angry because I know that the Israelis will eventually steal this water and force these people off their land.
Nearby - and by nearby I mean visible from everywhere in the nearby villages -there is a settlement called Betar Illit. Here is a typical view from within the village:
The sign outside the settlement says 'Betar Illit – a city of the Torah, a city of the Orthodox, within the Jewish Hills'. Gross. Within the settlement, there is an area that is still owned and farmed by Palestinian families who won a court case which prevented the confiscation of this land. We were able to get into the settlement to see this land, which is constantly being attacked by settlers – kids throwing stones and people setting fire to trees and the tin huts that farmers use. While I was there, a group of kids came by to harass the farmers. Here are some pictures, first of the land that is still being farmed by Palestinian families and the rest are the views of the settlement completely surrounding this land. Before I left people told me that you can't really understand the settlement situation until you see. So far, this is the most stark example I could find of how the settlements are confiscating land and are designed to terrorize Palestinians. See for yourselves:
Today I left Bethlehem and have started my stint volunteering with the IWPS in a more rural area in the North. I will likely have a lot more to report once we start going out and doing work in the area.
A bunch of people have asked if they can share this blog. Feel free, although it does increase the pressure for me to be interesting, relevant and diligent with this thing...
The village I was in is on the Israeli side of the Wall. For now it can be accessed from Bethlehem, but it is very likely to be cut off soon. There is a lot of water near or on their land, which is why they find themselves on the Israeli side of the border. I was shown one of the springs that feeds water to the farmlands – it was really beautiful, but made me feel so sad/angry because I know that the Israelis will eventually steal this water and force these people off their land.
Nearby - and by nearby I mean visible from everywhere in the nearby villages -there is a settlement called Betar Illit. Here is a typical view from within the village:
The sign outside the settlement says 'Betar Illit – a city of the Torah, a city of the Orthodox, within the Jewish Hills'. Gross. Within the settlement, there is an area that is still owned and farmed by Palestinian families who won a court case which prevented the confiscation of this land. We were able to get into the settlement to see this land, which is constantly being attacked by settlers – kids throwing stones and people setting fire to trees and the tin huts that farmers use. While I was there, a group of kids came by to harass the farmers. Here are some pictures, first of the land that is still being farmed by Palestinian families and the rest are the views of the settlement completely surrounding this land. Before I left people told me that you can't really understand the settlement situation until you see. So far, this is the most stark example I could find of how the settlements are confiscating land and are designed to terrorize Palestinians. See for yourselves:
Today I left Bethlehem and have started my stint volunteering with the IWPS in a more rural area in the North. I will likely have a lot more to report once we start going out and doing work in the area.
A bunch of people have asked if they can share this blog. Feel free, although it does increase the pressure for me to be interesting, relevant and diligent with this thing...
Monday, June 8, 2009
I am forgetful blogger, perhaps a non-blogger with an infrequently updated blog
I apparently suck at blogging. I keep making notes in my book about everything I want to write here and then, when online, I get so absorbed in email that I totally forget to blog. My apologies that this post is so long, but it's four days worth of thoughts and ramblings...
I arrived in Bethlehem on Saturday. I was told by several people to take the Beit Jalla service because it avoids checkpoints. Most of the travel advice I get here involves minimizing checkpoint stops. Driving into town I saw the Apartheid Wall for the first time. I want to say that I was overwhelmed with anger and sadness, but it was so surreal that I felt kind of numb. It wasn't until I was actually standing beside the Wall that I started to feel just how oppressive this structure really is. The part of the Wall I saw first surrounds Rachel's Tomb - a site that is holy to Christians, Muslims and Jews. The Israelis have stolen Rachel's Tomb by circling it with the Wall. The Tomb is within Bethlehem itself, so the wall does one of its characteristic loops in to grab what the Israeli's want. The Wall then continues to confiscate land belonging to the villages surrounding Bethlehem. These villages are particularly targetted because they sit on some of the most water rich land in the area. The path of the Wall, of course, ensures that the Israelis capture as much water and good farmland as possible. The result is that travel takes much longer than it should and here in Bethlehem, perhaps the biggest issue is the cutting off of access to Jerusalem, which is a really short distance away. One of the people I was driving with commented on the fact that he hasn't been to Jerusalem in almost 10 years, because he only has West Bank ID and West Bank plates - he can't legally go to this neighbouring city.
I also had my first encounter, at least visually, with a settlement here in Bethlehem. From the window of the room I'm staying in you can see the massive settlement of Gilo, just across the valley from Bethlehem. Pretty much everywhere you go in this area you can see a settlement, the Wall or both.
Last night we had dinner at someone's house in Beit Sahour and everyone kept commenting on how nice her view was because you couldn't see any settlements. Here that's quite a privilege. Even though there are no Israeli soldiers patrolling the streets these days (they are still at the border with the Wall and make frequent incursions to arrest people), the Israelis are everywhere.
On my first night here, I went with a bunch of people who work at Badil - the Resource Centre for Palestinian Residency and Refugee Rights - to a village called Batteer. It is by far the most beautiful place I've ever been. The village is built on a hill, overlooking the valley where the Green Line is. There is an ancient aquaduct system that sends water down to farmland that has been carved into the mountains. We hiked down, took in the view and ate fruit and nuts (I am so urban and ridiculous, I didn't know how almonds grew - I do now) fresh off the trees. We then had dinner at a small restaurant that overlooks the same valley. We watched the sun set - it was incredible. This is part of why I wanted to come here - we talk so much about the settlements, occupation and apartheid, but one of the biggest tragedies of Israeli Apartheid that I don't hear about too often is the confiscation and destruction of such an incredibly beautiful land. Coming from Canada, the commodification and destruction of natural beauty feels too familiar. I want to find ways of bringing this into the political analysis more often.
Some pictures of Betteer:
Yesterday, I got a tour of the Old City of Bethlehem. Between Jerusalem and Bethlehem, I have been in more churches this weekend than I have in my entire life. One would think that the fact that the Church of the Nativity and other sites holy to Christians are in the West Bank would lead to problems for the Israelis. Not so. There are tons of Israeli tour companies that escort tourists from Jerusalem to Bethlehem, drop them right at the holy sites and pick them up promptly before they can shop in Palestinian tourist areas. They then whisk them back to the Israeli side of the Wall, where they can buy Israeli tourist products. These buses get to sail through checkpoints so the tourists aren't bothered by the Occupation. I knew this practice has been devastating for the Palestinian tourism economy, but it becomes so clear when you see what must have been a bustling tourist centre, now reduced to a few shops.
This afternoon I'm heading to the Ibdaa cultural centre at the Deheishah refugee camp, which is in Bethlehem. Yesterday I visited the Azza camp, which is the smallest camp in the West Bank, with around 2000 people. I got to drink tea and listen to stories about the invasion during the 2nd Intifada. I was shown before and after pictures of the destruction caused by the Israelis. There are still bullet holes in many buildings, but for the most part, homes have been repaired, as has the Paradise Hotel which was occupied and blown up by the Israelis during the invasion. Apparently the UN helps pay for these repairs - this begs the obvious question about why they aren't doing anything to stop the destruction in the first place, but I think we all know the answers to that question.
I promise to try to blog more often. Hope everyone back home is doing well!
I arrived in Bethlehem on Saturday. I was told by several people to take the Beit Jalla service because it avoids checkpoints. Most of the travel advice I get here involves minimizing checkpoint stops. Driving into town I saw the Apartheid Wall for the first time. I want to say that I was overwhelmed with anger and sadness, but it was so surreal that I felt kind of numb. It wasn't until I was actually standing beside the Wall that I started to feel just how oppressive this structure really is. The part of the Wall I saw first surrounds Rachel's Tomb - a site that is holy to Christians, Muslims and Jews. The Israelis have stolen Rachel's Tomb by circling it with the Wall. The Tomb is within Bethlehem itself, so the wall does one of its characteristic loops in to grab what the Israeli's want. The Wall then continues to confiscate land belonging to the villages surrounding Bethlehem. These villages are particularly targetted because they sit on some of the most water rich land in the area. The path of the Wall, of course, ensures that the Israelis capture as much water and good farmland as possible. The result is that travel takes much longer than it should and here in Bethlehem, perhaps the biggest issue is the cutting off of access to Jerusalem, which is a really short distance away. One of the people I was driving with commented on the fact that he hasn't been to Jerusalem in almost 10 years, because he only has West Bank ID and West Bank plates - he can't legally go to this neighbouring city.
I also had my first encounter, at least visually, with a settlement here in Bethlehem. From the window of the room I'm staying in you can see the massive settlement of Gilo, just across the valley from Bethlehem. Pretty much everywhere you go in this area you can see a settlement, the Wall or both.
Last night we had dinner at someone's house in Beit Sahour and everyone kept commenting on how nice her view was because you couldn't see any settlements. Here that's quite a privilege. Even though there are no Israeli soldiers patrolling the streets these days (they are still at the border with the Wall and make frequent incursions to arrest people), the Israelis are everywhere.
On my first night here, I went with a bunch of people who work at Badil - the Resource Centre for Palestinian Residency and Refugee Rights - to a village called Batteer. It is by far the most beautiful place I've ever been. The village is built on a hill, overlooking the valley where the Green Line is. There is an ancient aquaduct system that sends water down to farmland that has been carved into the mountains. We hiked down, took in the view and ate fruit and nuts (I am so urban and ridiculous, I didn't know how almonds grew - I do now) fresh off the trees. We then had dinner at a small restaurant that overlooks the same valley. We watched the sun set - it was incredible. This is part of why I wanted to come here - we talk so much about the settlements, occupation and apartheid, but one of the biggest tragedies of Israeli Apartheid that I don't hear about too often is the confiscation and destruction of such an incredibly beautiful land. Coming from Canada, the commodification and destruction of natural beauty feels too familiar. I want to find ways of bringing this into the political analysis more often.
Some pictures of Betteer:
Yesterday, I got a tour of the Old City of Bethlehem. Between Jerusalem and Bethlehem, I have been in more churches this weekend than I have in my entire life. One would think that the fact that the Church of the Nativity and other sites holy to Christians are in the West Bank would lead to problems for the Israelis. Not so. There are tons of Israeli tour companies that escort tourists from Jerusalem to Bethlehem, drop them right at the holy sites and pick them up promptly before they can shop in Palestinian tourist areas. They then whisk them back to the Israeli side of the Wall, where they can buy Israeli tourist products. These buses get to sail through checkpoints so the tourists aren't bothered by the Occupation. I knew this practice has been devastating for the Palestinian tourism economy, but it becomes so clear when you see what must have been a bustling tourist centre, now reduced to a few shops.
This afternoon I'm heading to the Ibdaa cultural centre at the Deheishah refugee camp, which is in Bethlehem. Yesterday I visited the Azza camp, which is the smallest camp in the West Bank, with around 2000 people. I got to drink tea and listen to stories about the invasion during the 2nd Intifada. I was shown before and after pictures of the destruction caused by the Israelis. There are still bullet holes in many buildings, but for the most part, homes have been repaired, as has the Paradise Hotel which was occupied and blown up by the Israelis during the invasion. Apparently the UN helps pay for these repairs - this begs the obvious question about why they aren't doing anything to stop the destruction in the first place, but I think we all know the answers to that question.
I promise to try to blog more often. Hope everyone back home is doing well!
Friday, June 5, 2009
From one settler colony to another
I arrived safely last night. The border guard asked me all the standard questions and then, after seeing my passport photo, started talking to me about my incredible weight loss. Seriously, she seemed more interested in how I pulled it off than if I was any kind of security threat. Ridiculous.
Driving in from the airport made me realize two things that I probably knew already:
1. Canada and Israel have just so much in common. Besides the differential treatment that I was given at the airport (Israeli security grabbed all the brown people before we even got to the passport checks), the way the highways were cut out of and destroying the landscape felt so eerily familiar. The rocks were different, but otherwise, it was hard to tell if I was in Palestine or on the 401 heading east. All the signs had the Hebrew name for places in Hebrew and phonetically in Arabic and then the real, Arabic name in brackets. That kind of erasure made me think of how Tyendenaga didn't have a sign on the highway until very recently. I guess when you fly half way around the world to another settler colony you're never really all that far from home.
2. Israelis are spectacularly rude and impatient. We got stuck in traffic and everyone in the sherut was freaking out. Somehow they all managed to blame the situation on 'the Arabs', it was lovely. The irony of Israelis being stuck in some sort of inexplicable delay while travelling a short distance amused me so much that I didn't care that it took 2.5 hours to get to my hotel. Plus, the orthodox guys in the sherut kept talking about me in Hebrew and then seemed totally freaked out when I told them where I was heading after I overheard them arguing about who should ask me where my stop was. Fun times. All I can say is that I was relieved to get to my Palestinian run hotel and get away from Israeli culture for the night.
I'm off to go explore the Old City. Will post again soon.
Driving in from the airport made me realize two things that I probably knew already:
1. Canada and Israel have just so much in common. Besides the differential treatment that I was given at the airport (Israeli security grabbed all the brown people before we even got to the passport checks), the way the highways were cut out of and destroying the landscape felt so eerily familiar. The rocks were different, but otherwise, it was hard to tell if I was in Palestine or on the 401 heading east. All the signs had the Hebrew name for places in Hebrew and phonetically in Arabic and then the real, Arabic name in brackets. That kind of erasure made me think of how Tyendenaga didn't have a sign on the highway until very recently. I guess when you fly half way around the world to another settler colony you're never really all that far from home.
2. Israelis are spectacularly rude and impatient. We got stuck in traffic and everyone in the sherut was freaking out. Somehow they all managed to blame the situation on 'the Arabs', it was lovely. The irony of Israelis being stuck in some sort of inexplicable delay while travelling a short distance amused me so much that I didn't care that it took 2.5 hours to get to my hotel. Plus, the orthodox guys in the sherut kept talking about me in Hebrew and then seemed totally freaked out when I told them where I was heading after I overheard them arguing about who should ask me where my stop was. Fun times. All I can say is that I was relieved to get to my Palestinian run hotel and get away from Israeli culture for the night.
I'm off to go explore the Old City. Will post again soon.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)