So That Promise Not to Go to the West Bank? Yeah, about that...

So on my second full day in Israel, I ended up in the West Bank- Balata Camp and Nablus, to be a little more precise. One of the most amazing individuals I have ever met, a friend from Egypt last summer, had volunteered for a summer at a Yafa Cultural Center in Balata, which is a Palestinian Refugee Camp within the West Bank. Balata is famous for being a grassroot location for the intifadas (Palestinian uprisings in the Israel-Palestinian Conflict) and is a central point of the political resistance in Palestine to Israeli occupation; the second Intifada in 2000 had its' West Bank origins here. There are over 25,000 people living in the camp (1 sq. kilometer), leading it to be one of the most densely populated locations on Earth. The concrete homes are built in the same locations as the original UN tents, so quarters are cramped and they deal with it by continually building up, up, and up some more. The organization that she had worked with aimed to redirect the energy of young men away from the conflict and towards othere ends, including culture and education- they were holding a workshop on the Native Americans the day our group was there. The individual who ran the center took time to sit down and talk with us about some of the history, and it was members of the center who so graciously took us around the camp and city.

It's not a regular highlight on the 'Come See Israel' travel guide, and we were only able to go because my friend had connections within the camp. We had to have a resident escort, because in the past, the IDF (Israeli Defense Force) has entered the camp in plain clothes pretending to be activists, and therefore making everyone else visiting suspicious. Yet my friend's friends in the camp were absolutely wonderful- they were so willing to share the story of the camp and city, as well as their own personal ones. I don't care what opinion you may hold on this conflict, there is no denying that the victims are many.

Walking up to the camp, there was beautiful graffiti art- one in particular, of UN refugee tents with the numbers of the resolutions calling for the right of return for Palestinians to their homes (aka not in Balata refugee camp for over 50 years), was particularly telling of the situation and political rhetoric that engulfs this conflict. The camp itself was pretty much what you would expect with 25,000 people living in 1 sq. kilometer of land- for lack of a better word, shitty. Our escort (which were some of the most amazingly courteous and humble young men I have ever met) took us around the camp, pointing out the sniper stands where the IDF can get the best view down the allies and the bullet holes. They also described an infamous tactic of the IDF, where to avoid Palestinian fire, they started at one end of the camp, and blast holes straight through the middle of the houses down a street, using the homes as cover.

Nablus was just as heart-wrenching and a vivid visual representation of this conflict. The martyr posters of young Palestinian men lined the walls of the city, along with various memorials to those lost (check the pics). On a light note, we had some AMAZING kunafa dessert (which originated in Nablus, and if you haven't tried, you haven't lived, khalas), and visited some candy and soap factories. Grandma, I got you some of the best soap in the world.

The trip back, we had three check points to get through: two by foot and one by car. The first out of Nablus left me feeling icky inside, since our American, Canadian, and Australian passports allowed us to bypass the Palestinians who had to wait in an abysmally long line. My friend detailed how this checkpoint was famous for the degrading treatment of the Palestinians. (Note: they are now run by private contractors). We drove by some Israeli settlements in the West Bank, and before going to the third checkpoint, I was able to view some of the famous art along the dividing wall between Israel and the West Bank. Inspiring, beautiful, yet burdened and full of pain doesn't even begin to describe it. After the pain-in-the-ass-let's-put-you-in-a-cage-and-make-you-feel-like-an-animal-checkpoint we were back in Israel. Gotta say, love that American passport while despising what it means at the same time- privilege of birth defines this country. (PS Israeli citizens are not allowed into the West Bank--??)

I feel woefully inadequate to have a dialogue on any of this- there are so many opinions, sides, factors, passions, and unknowns, that I would feel silly trying to- there are too many others who live and breath this for me to add anything of substance. If anything, too many people who know too little say too much already. Therefore, this post is to recount what I saw in one day with honest sentiments- and that is all. Everything else should be saved for a meaningful conversation (possible with this stuff and the passions it invokes? Debatable.) I'm just gonna leave it at that, even if it is a cop out.

But I had Kunafa. So. Good.

And the Pope is coming tomorrow (very obvious with the MILLIONS of Papal flags EVERYWHERE in the Old City). I also made the brilliant mistake today when manuevering the alleys of the Old City of speaking Arabic to some very obviously non-Muslim, non-Arabic Christians gearing up for the Pope, before running into the littlest old lady who stopped me to say watch my purse, since 'those Muslims' were targeting the Christians and tourists, stealing their stuff. Oi.

And my current home in the Old City made the New York Times today: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/05/10/world/middleeast/10jerusalem.html?_r=1&ref=middleeast