A Gift from the Sea - or "You Can't Get There from Here!"

 

Sunset on the beach in Tel Aviv

 When I first learned that I’d be spending three months in Tulkarm, I did what every self-respecting researcher would do – I “Goggled” it!  Among other things, I learned Tulkarm was a medium sized city (60,000 people) in the northwest of the West Bank, had a “subtropical” climate, and was located just 14 kilometers (about 10 miles) from the Mediterranean. 

I also learned that, thanks to checkpoints that started during the first Intifada, followed by the construction of the Wall in 2002, the sea is inaccessible to the residents of Tulkarm.  “The last time I saw the sea was in 1983,” one of our local contacts, a man who works with the Jewish peace organization B’tselm, told us. 

“My children have never seen the ocean,” added Muawya, taxi driver and translator for our EAPPI team.  He told us that, once, one of his sons came across the term “wave” in a book – and, without a visual point of reference, it was a difficult concept to explain.

Muawya also told us that once he tried to take his wife (who has also never seen the sea) and four sons to the Dead Sea – “Not the same as the ocean, but it is water for them to play in,” he said.  After a drive of several hours, the family was turned back by Israeli soldiers with no reason given. The Dead Sea, by the way, is in the Jericho Valley, also in the West Bank, but, as is often the case here, road blocks, checkpoints and the Wall make travel from one place to another difficult, if not impossible. 

Recently, I spent a couple of days off in Tel Aviv.  The coastal city is about 25 miles from Tulkarm, as the crow flies, but even for me, a Westerner with a passport that would let me cross the checkpoints easily, what was once a 45 minute journey exceeded two hours.  I was first driven to a checkpoint by a Palestinian driver, then, after a lengthy inspection of my passport by a bored, young soldier, transferred to a taxi with Israeli plates for the remainder of the two-hour journey.   

 In Tel Aviv, the unfairness of the situation struck me afresh!  Here I was, lying on this beautiful beach, watching children playing in the waves and building sand castles.  And only a short distance away, a whole generation of children was growing up without ever being able to enjoy the simple pleasure of a day at the beach.

A gift from the sea

.I gathered shells and brought them back to Tulkarm for Muawya to add to his collection of “beach memorabilia” from other EAs.  Hopefully, some day he and his family will be able to return these gifts to the sea in person!

Food - Glorious Food!!

To experience true hospitality is to spend time with the Palestinian people.  Without question, they are the most gracious and hospitable people I have ever met!   Let’s start with a simple visit – say to the mayor of a village who wants to talk to us about settler violence or problems with agricultural access.

First of all, we know we will spend a minimum of one hour, because no visit is complete without beverages and social time.  When we sit down, we are offered tea or coffee (saying “no” is not an option!).  Then we make “small talk” for a while before getting down to the business at hand. 

When we sit down, we are offered tea or coffee

Often snacks are passed around as we talk – cookies or other sweets, sometimes even popcorn!, and the meeting will conclude with coffee – strong, Arabic coffee served in tiny cups and flavoured with cardamom.  (I don’t like coffee, but must take a sip for the sake of etiquette, after which I am free to leave it.)

An impromptu olive oil tasting included bread, cheese, tomatoes and olives.

Other visits include full meals.  In the first week of our stay in Tulkarm, this included an impromptu olive oil tasting at the home of the local mayor, complete with bread, cheese, tomatoes and olives.

Magluba is a traditional Palestinian dish

Another time, while interviewing a Nakba survivor, her daughter-in-law served us lunch – maqluba with chicken, and a beautiful salad!

Can anyone identify the vegetable in front? 

The food here is both tasty and healthy – think “Mediterranean diet.”  Fresh fruits and vegetables are plentiful – the streets of Tulkarm are filled with market stalls offering bananas, tomatoes, cabbages, cauliflower, onions, eggplant, and other wonderful produce – including some we are not familiar with. Can anyone identify the vegetable in the front of this photo? Bread – think pita bread the size of a large pizza – can be bought fresh and warm from the oven. 

Not having access to a scale, I have no idea whether I’ve lost or gained weight – my clothes still fit, so maybe walking the hilly streets of Tulkarm offsets the feasts spread before us! At any rate, don't  waste any time worrying that I will go hungry!  The people may be poor, but the land is plentiful – and the spirits are rich with sharing!    

Mandela

Nurshams (aka "Mandela") in his home

His name, he tells us, comes from his resemblance to the South African leader.  “All the people here; they call me Mandela,” he says proudly, and one can see the resemblance in the twinkle of his eyes.  His home is a tribute to the “other” Mandela, as well as to his South African heritage (his grandfather emigrated from South Africa to Palestine), and photos of Mandela and other world leaders, including Barak Obama, decorating his walls.

His given name is Nurshams, and he has lived in the Ner Shams refugee camp since the 1948 “Nakba.”  This is the name Palestinians give to the massive excavation of more than 500 Palestinian villages during the fighting that broke out after the United Nations gave Israel statehood.  In Arabic, “Nakba” means “disaster” – an appropriate word for the upheaval of 750,000 people who were forcibly removed from their homes and told they could return “in a few days” when the fighting had stopped.

Sixty-five years later, they are still waiting.  At the time, many fled to neighboring countries – Lebanon, Syria, Egypt and Jordan.  Others went farther afield – to Europe, South America and the United States.  But many remain, still living in the camps that were hastily established by the United Nations at the time of their upheaval.

Sunset over Nur Shams

The original tents have long since been replaced with  permanent structures, including schools (funded by the UN), shops and the other “amenities” of a small city.  Ner Sharms has about 8,000 residents, and is but one of many refugee camps scattered throughout the West Bank.  Residents of the camps are now third and fourth generations of those who were removed from their homes in 1948 – many still holding the keys to their homes and the original deeds that date back to Ottoman times.

It is believed that, should the Palestinian people ever be allowed the “right of return,” those living in the camps would have first priority to go back to their native villages.  Some of those villages are still standing – the houses long ago given to new Israeli settlers who came in the aftermath of World War II.  Other villages were destroyed – houses demolished to prevent the residents from coming back.

Mandela’s village was Kadash, a seaside town now in Israel.  The youngest of seven siblings, Mandela was too young to remember his departure from Kadash, but he says it is still in his heart and he wants to go home.  His father was a farmer, and, like most refugees of the time, left his home with nothing.

Before the start of the second Intifada in 2000, Mandela received permission to visit Kadash.  Someone living there pointed out to him trees that his father had planted.  “It made me happy to see the trees,” he said, but I wanted to cry because I can’t live there.

Jerusalem

The Old City is peaceful in the early morning

It is said that God gave Jerusalem 90% of the world’s beauty – and also 90% of the world’s sorrow.  Spending five days here for training has done much to show me the truth of this saying.  

An American friend told me a few days before I came that he’d heard that Jerusalem had a special light.  This is true.  I am struck by the sun’s glow off the ancient walls when I take my morning walk.  Children are hurrying to school and shopkeepers are cleaning the streets in front of their shops, but otherwise it is quiet, peaceful, and quite beautiful indeed!

Soldiers stop a young man in the Old City

Then I turn a corner and see two young men, detained by soldiers, who appear to be looking at their papers.  I am told that “ID checks” are common – especially for young Palestinian men, but the scene disturbs the quiet of the morning and I walk out of the Old City and back to my hotel.

Later, we are taken to a hilltop for a view of Greater Jerusalem.  The hilltop happens to be in the settlement of Ma’ale Admum, and the view is of the E-1 land on which Israel plans to build an additional of 3,500 residential units, effectively extending Jerusalem’s boundaries, while blocking access from the West Bank to East Jerusalem and development of a contiguous Palestinian state.

View from Ma'Ala Admum (note "Water Park" for settlers' use)

Bedouin school made of tires and mud

A five minute drive from Ma’ale Admum takes us to a Bedouin camp.  In stark contrast to the lush landscaping in the settlement, we learn that here the residents must walk 3 kilometers to their only source of water – and that settlers frequently vandalize that water source, leaving the 200 residents of the camp without water.  They also have no electricity or other services, despite electrical lines that run along the highway just below the camp.

They Bedouins do have a school – a wonderful building created from tires and mud, and built with the labor of many internationals.  However, the school – indeed the entire village – is under a demolition order and, although it has been delayed through the courts, they know their days there are numbered.