The Occupation Situation

  “How much longer is the world willing to endure this spectacle of wanton cruelty?”
- Bertrand Russell

Graffiti on the Separation Wall

As a South African, I've heard the word 'Apartheid' very often. It's a dark, haunting story that we have in our past that we carry with us to make sure we do not make the same mistakes as our fathers. I didn't expect to see the word in Israel and yet there it was, staring at me like I was back at home, more than 20 years ago. 'Apartheid' is an Afrikaans word meaning 'the state of being apart'; a word that should no longer have any present significance and yet there it was, staring at me in the face.

Many people asked me why I was going to Israel in the first place. I answered, "well why not." "Because there was a war going on?" This is true. I was asked what I knew of the conflict and to be honest, next to nothing. War, that's what I knew. Something about Gaza. Although that ended in August. But I was invited to go. So I went.

In general, I lead a very sheltered life. I live a bubble where I don't let the real world with its real problems get to me. I'm a very emotional person and tend to stress about things I cannot help, therefore I shy away from the news and media, knowing that it will do nothing but upset me. As well as that, I tend to keep my opinions neutral about things; preferring to see both sides of a story than get actively and emotionally involved in something. After visiting and experiencing the very little that I did, I don't think I can ever be indifferent ever again. And so I decided to write about it.

I had to  remember that I wasn't specifically going to be in Israel, but in Ramallah, Palestine, except I wasn't allowed to call it that. I had to remember to call the area the West Bank. How confusing. It's because some people would say that there is no such place as Palestine on any present map. Do these people not exist? The only thing I knew about the difficult situation was that war has been ravaging the land for longer than I have been alive. I paid mind to all advice that came my way.

Border Patrol
Right. So I arrived to the airport preparing to be grilled by border patrol. Nope. Just a few questions and I was on my way. How anticlimactic! I'd been mentally prepping myself to be interviewed like they do in the movies, but no; the lady that helped was nice and friendly and wished me a merry Christmas. Well that was easier than expected. Off to a good start. I proceeded to make my way to Jerusalem.

This wasn't the case for every security check we went through though. As we went in and out of the country to visit Egypt and Jordan, we were questioned a few times; some more pleasant than others. Upon arrival from Egypt, I was questioned three times by three different people, all asking the same questions: Are you traveling alone? How do you know your friend? How long do you plan on staying in Israel? Where are you staying in Israel? My personal favorite though, what do you think about the conflict about Israel and Palestine? Really, Lady? Do you really think you'll get an honest answer from me about that one? After all that I've seen and gone through while being here? Insert a very vague, innocent answer here instead. That particular border check took 2 hours, but everyone was pleasant; just doing their job which I can respect. Keeping your country safe is so important nowadays.

I didn't appreciate how I was handled when I returned from Jordan though, like a second class citizen. In very simple terms, I was too close to losing my shit because some skanky, on her period, cheaply dyed redhead decided that apparently I was worth the trouble to make a point about something. Now Israel let's say this together: tourist, not terrorist. Toooouuuuurist. You're going to treat people like shit because you have nothing better to do, then you're going to get people like me who are going to write about it. I was there for no more than 10 days. How do people deal with this every day of their lives?

I was warned when I arrived that things over there didn't really work according to time. Crossing borders could take 15 minutes to 3 hours, depending on what mood the Israeli soldiers or security personel were in. "How is that fair?" I asked. It's not. "But why do they do it?" I was burning with so many questions, trying to wrap my head around how things worked here. Why do any bullies act the way do? Because they can get away with it.

The Wall
Palestine is not recognized as its own state; its separated by a wall. A legit, concrete Berlin-type wall. I have never seen anything like it. We crossed into the West Bank and I was warned, but knowing about something and seeing it are two different things. In the bus, this huge concrete structure loomed ahead of us. That couldn't truly separate the land completely, could it? It does. It is a monster in comparison to its deceased cousin in Berlin. It is supposed to "protect" the people of Israel from Palestinian terrorists, but the only violence I witnessed, was hearing the goddamn IDF bombing a house near to where I was staying and seeing teenagers carrying AK47s demanding to see papers papers papers.

The Cattle Gate
To get into Palestine, you have to cross a checkpoint. Going in is not a problem, it's the leaving that is tricky. As a foreigner, we had to get out the bus and walk through a very narrow gate. Qalandiya is the main and largest checkpoints between northern West Bank and Jerusalem. Here I will quote from www.qalandiyainternational.org  which summarises everything that I cannot:

To enter Ramallah coming from Jerusalem, visitors must pass through qalandiya checkpoint, one of the largest Israeli military checkpoints in the occupied west Bank. The separation wall, checkpoints, concrete roadblocks and barriers, military camps zones, Israeli settlements and bypass roads are material evidence of the Israeli occupation. These structures demonstrate architecture and infrastructure used as a tool of military and political control. This system of restrictions impedes Palestinian freedom of movement, forcing people to spend more time commuting between cities, towns and villages. Palestinians are disconnected from neighbouring towns and the larger world, creating islands of detached lands or cantons. When closed, checkpoints can physically isolate and disconnect Palestinian built- up areas from each other; in the case of qalandiya, the checkpoint has gradually become a border crossing that resembles an airport terminal. 

 

Clogged traffic languishes, while pedestrians walk through chicken- coop-like passages to get to the soldier checking ID cards and luggage from behind fortified walls and small bulletproof glass windows. The checkpoint prevents Palestinians from commuting to Jerusalem and Israel unless they have an Israeli permit, which is extremely difficult to acquire.






I still don't know enough about the subject. This is just what I experienced, and I'm just a little white girl with wide eyes about the world. How it must be for those that live every day like that... My heart burns with indignation! And so, of course there is violence. People are fighting for their FREEDOM; a basic human right! And yet everyone I spoke to, on both sides, just want peace. Peace to live as they want. Peace without loved ones dying. This shouldn't exist in the 21st century, where we have years and years of experience and have had so many wars that have taught us that we, as human beings, are better than this. We are capable of living in harmony, albeit a rocky one. The situation is a time bomb; one where I hope that as little people as possible are harmed on both sides.

Every country has the right to defend its borders to the best of its ability. I understand it. I respect it. What is not acceptable is the treatment of people in regards to that. People are people. I wish I could write in further detail about the 1948 and 1967 conflict but it would require a lot more than a simple blog entry. My only hope is that after reading this, you send light and love towards that side of the world and pray for an amicable solution soon.

“For if life had taught her anything, it was that healing and peace can begin only with acknowledgment of wrongs committed.”
― Susan Abulhawa, 'Mornings in Jenin'