Lee (my husband) arrives in Ramallah

The day after Lee arrived, there was an uprising in Ramallah with clashes between Hamas and Fatah. People were killed. I live “up town” from the center of Ramallah, so was grateful to have been out of reach of the violence. We knew something was happening, as there were loud marches taking place, and fast bustling everywhere, with constant car horns honking their way through the city.

While teaching at the Conservatory the day before this happened, I knew something was brewing in the town because everything was so loud and full of commotion. I could hardly hear the students playing flute. (The Conservatory is located on a main-branch road into the center of Ramallah). The students were all a bit shook up as well, not knowing what was happening. Two of them reported, “There are people shooting right near our house!” One young, adorable girl named Hiba---who is actually 13 years old but looks no more than 10---told me of how she once (at age 8) was effected by an Israeli incursion in the territory in which she lives. She was asleep at night, and her parents kept seeing the Israeli Military go into the building next door, bringing people out. They decided it must all be ok, since nothing seemed to be happening other than this. Suddenly, there was an enormous explosion in that building (from Israeli’s), and it had such force that the windows in Hiba’s apartment exploded. She said that a giant piece of glass landed on top of her, and she woke up covered in a sheet of glass, screaming at the top of her lungs. Her parents came in and got the glass off of her. The enormity of the explosion knocked both of her brothers from their beds as well. My heart breaks when I hear stories like this, and as I watched Hiba tell this story, she was all smiles and giggles, trying to frame it in a way she could actually live with, as if this had been an event at her school-ground in which all was well….

This is one gorgeous young girl, inside and out. And as she plays something for me on her flute, slowly working through the music, she frequently stops, gives her radiant smile, and says: “I’m sorry. I cannot concentrate.” So this is my True Work, to open up this young ladies’ soul, helping her find peace in at least one activity in her life, the flute. It is my job to find a way to teach her to find this ‘resting place’ an ability to concentrate, at least with this small musical tool in hand.

Bethlehem on Christmas Eve!

On Christmas Eve, Lee and I rode with some friends to Bethlehem for the midnight service. A once-in-a-lifetime chance, we didn’t dare pass up the opportunity! But before we left, Lee had become very ill.

We thought that perhaps he’d eaten some bad falafel, but I also had one piece of it and was feeling fine. Nevertheless, we decided to travel to Bethlehem. Our friends drove on a route I had never been on, since when I teach in Bethlehem the buses are not permitted to take these direct routes. (Did I mention I teach in Bethlehem? There is a branch of the Conservatory there, and I travel to teach there on Mondays.) This car route was such a direct route, which was permissible for us to take only because the license plate on our friend’s car was a Jerusalem plate, not a West Bank plate. I was absolutely surprised how short a distance it really was from Ramallah to Bethlehem, as it took us only about 15 minutes. In the public taxi-bus, we have to go through the desert and far down into valleys and back up again, which takes at least an hour, and that is if all goes well at the Checkpoint….

On our way into Bethlehem, there were beautiful Christmas lights shining everywhere over the town, which is on a hill. It was magical. We finally made it through all the traffic, and walked up to Manger Square. Lee was feeling worse by now, and was struggling to keep going…

Manger Square, Bethlehem, Monday of Christmas week, 2006. And Santa makes it all around the world, even to Ramallah!

Bethlehem Manger Square, Christmas Eve, 2006

Once in Manger Square, I was so struck with sadness to see the few numbers of people in attendance, knowing that this was Bethlehem’s biggest time of the year to have their “economy thrive”, and hardly anyone was there. Why? Because foreigners such as myself are strongly advised by Israeli authorities NOT to travel to Bethlehem, as it is “very dangerous”. Again, this is another way to choke out a culture, which is sadly succeeding...There is nothing dangerous about coming to Bethlehem, unless you are terrified of shop-keepers begging you to buy from them, since they are barely surviving. But it is a painted-picture that most people do not question: bad people, dangerous territory, don’t go. Propoganda….End of story. End of a culture. My heart ached to see the lack of festivities on our Christian ‘biggest night of the year” event! 1. Read more about Bethlehem
2. http://www.openbethlehem.org/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=29&Itemid=7

Personal narrative interruption…

At this point, I will interrupt myself to say this: I’m very torn about how much to reveal here on my website. I am in a precarious position, because people might take things personally instead of understanding it is the Israeli Military-As-Occupiers I speak of, not a “people.” I have many Jewish friends, and I love them all, each in their own way---friends from New York, Connecticut, California, Michigan, and beyond. If I found myself living here to help Israeli’s from some occupying brute force, I would be speaking about/for them. But as it is, I am here living among Palestinians, the ones who suffer greatly under the Israeli Occupation, with no helping hands from other countries. Nevertheless, I have come to this conclusion: talking about What Is while here is my own form of Non-Violent Resistance, and I must do it. If I remain silent, then I am a mere spectator watching someone else’s demise, helping nothing and no one. Standing by and not speaking up is how some of the world’s worst tragedies have happened in our history. But if I tell what I see, based upon what I truly experience and hear around me, then I can only hope that someone, anyone--one person--will have a more broad perspective about what is happening here than they previously had. THEN I will have done my job! I find myself here by coincidental circumstances, and I feel I MUST speak about it, and hope that anyone would listen with an open mind. I did not plan on coming here to be some small voice of what is happening….and yet, this is precisely where I find myself. If I deny this ‘voice’, then I feel I will be denying what little I can offer in help to a currently-oppressed body of people.

I will add that there are many, many Jewish people who are absolutely against the Occupation, and are trying to help bring peace to this war-torn, unstable country with their own ‘voices’ and actions.

1. Jeff Halper Preface 

2. http://www.petitiononline.com/JvO1/

3. http://www.icahd.org/eng/news.asp?menu=5&submenu=1&item=218

Back to the Bethlehem experience:

We did not try to enter the Nativity Church, as we were listening to the service broadcast out into the square. Lee was so sick that I insisted we get a cab back to Ramallah, after having been there about 30 minutes. Finding a willing cab was quite the adventure, since traveling to Ramallah meant a long journey... Normally, I can take a cab or bus taxi from Bethlehem to Ramallah for 36 shekels, round trip (16 shekels each way). This amounts to about $4 a person. But on THIS night, it was called “special service”, since it was late, indeed. It cost us 250 shekels to get a cab back to Ramallah! ($63). I was good at bartering the price, as my dad taught me well back in Montana, but this was the best price I could get. And after all this need I have described Bethlehem as having, these weren’t the folks who particularly needed it most, mind you. We had to agree on the price, as it was vital that Lee get back to the house. The ride home was nearly TWO HOURS. This particular cab was quite slow, but with a very humble, kind driver who took all the valley turns and twists slowly, for Lee’s sake. He told me that he is a medical doctor, trained in Russia, but can’t get that kind of work, so he drives the cab. He also said that back in 2000, there were so many people in Bethlehem that hardly anyone could even walk around. There were thousands. This year, there were merely hundreds.

We were brought back from our euphoric vision of the Bethlehem Christmas Eve at the checkpoint on the way back to Ramallah. We were the first cab to arrive. We sat there with absolutely no activity whatsoever for about 30 minutes. We saw two Israeli guards, children of about 20, really, talking away on their individual cell phones, laughing and having a good time. We sat there for no reason. I was getting extremely impatient, as Lee was starting to have some strange kind of body-shakes, and I felt so bad for him! So I said to the cab driver, “why don’t I just go see what the problem is, why they won’t let us go forward?” The driver (about age 35 or so) said, “No, please madam, if you do that, they will either shoot at you, or you will be kept here the entire night for questioning and harassing! What they want is for us to honk our horns, or get out of our car---this way, they will have a “reason” to shoot you, and no one will know the real facts!” So I took his advice, while Lee muttered, “don’t do anything, Rhonda! Just wait!” Finally, one of the child-guards shined his flashlight at us, which meant, “come forth!” When we were ‘forth’, he shined the flashlight into my face for a long time, creating the feel as if I were a criminal. He asked what we were doing. “It is Christmas Eve for us, we were in Bethlehem”. They wanted to see what was in the trunk. The cab driver was such a meek person, and he said to Lee and me, “I’m afraid to turn off the car, because it will not re-start when it is hot, but I need the key to open the trunk”. Meanwhile, the soldiers where trying to pry open his trunk with their weapons as a tool (using them as a crowbar). The driver got the trunk open, and the soldiers were satisfied that nothing was there. The driver got back in the car and we held our breath while he turned the key to start the cab. It started right up! We were all relieved! We drove on to Ramallah, which was another hour away…(remember, the ride there was only 15 minutes on a permitted road…)

Christmas day: off to Italy, the Land of the Free!

At least that is how we felt! Lee and I own a place in Roccantica, Italy, one hour north of Rome, and we continued our vacation there. I’m happy to say that the people at the Ben Gurion Israeli Airport were extremely friendly this time! Perhaps it was because we traveled as a couple, or that it was our Christmas Day, or they just liked our jokes!.....whatever it was, it was an enormous relief, and they were truly kind to us! Not only did we not get trouble from the airport security, we were offered a VIP coupon for one of the Lounges while we waited for our flight!

We were at our home in Italy for a day, and I came down with the same sickness that Lee had had. Now we knew it wasn’t the falafel…..it was a terrible stomach bug/flu. I did not have it nearly as severely as Lee had, though. The worst part for me is that I was to perform a concert in four days from when I got sick! The first night that I had this bug, I slept nearly 24 hours, with few waking-breaks. The dreams I had over and over during my severe stomach pains and general sickness were very telling: I kept dreaming that this pain was going through an Israeli checkpoint! The pain in my stomach was terrible, and I had Italian radio on at the same time, to help me sleep (some kind of Italian pop station). Each time I would fall back to sleep, the dream continued like this: My stomach pain was in the Number 3 territory (I have no idea what this means), and I was at a Checkpoint, and the only way this pain would go away was if I could “cross over” the Checkpoint. In the dream, the soldiers kept saying, “you can come over, it is no problem”, and as soon as I would start to cross, they would laugh and mock, the pain would return, and I couldn’t cross over, as if there was an invisible wire somewhere causing this. Then it took the form of the music pitch A and G…(this must be where the radio comes in), and that Number 3 section of my stomach could only be crossed if the A and G appeared, and each time the music would come close to these two notes, it would veer off to other notes! Never to reach an A or a G! Soldiers laughed again. Such was my sickness nightmares, all very symbolic, in which I could not ‘cross over’ to peace and wellness…

I was healed by the time I had my concert in Italy. It was one of those precious events, where intimacy and delicacy were palpable, with a church packed full, standing room only. Lee translated my English words into Italian. What a special time, which felt as if I was among Family.

Concert in Roccantica, Italy (dress from Ramallah), and Sunset view from our terrace in Roccantica.

We saw in the New Year from Casperia, Italy, just next to our town of Roccantica. It was a night to remember, as we could see the entire valley for a hundred miles (since Casperia is also on a mountain). We witnessed fountains of colored light streaming through the sky, one after another, in their magical fireworks display from every possible village in the vicinity. I cried at the beautiful sight, and secretly prayed that 2007 would be a good year.

BACK TO RAMALLAH

Two days later, Lee flew back to America, and I arrived back to Ramallah in the wee hours of dawn. The next day I took a long walk to the far-away local grocery store. There are dozens of stores in the city, but I wanted the long walk…I wasn’t sure I could find this store, walking, as I’d only been there in a car. But I didn’t care if I made it or not, as I needed to walk. All that mattered was my ability to back-track my steps to return home.

I did find the store, and was feeling so proud of myself!  On my walk back, I had a full backpack, and two bags, one in each hand.  Just as I was passing the Muqata’a, the Arafat compound (Abass, now), I was near the house.  I turned up a street, and suddenly became aware of someone following me.  I took my right turn, and sure enough, so did he....I could tell by the way he took that turn that I was affecting his decision...so I slowed my walk down, and he caught up to me and said something in Arabic.  At first, I just stared at him, wondering if I wanted to even answer and make it known I didn't speak Arabic (like he couldn’t guess from blonde hair). But after a few seconds I said, "I don't understand", rather sternly, hoping he’d go away.  He looked pretty down-trodden, but was only about 24 years old or something. So he went on, and I tagged behind.  My plan was that I absolutely would not turn into my gate/house while he was looking, because I didn't want him to know where I lived.  So I stopped near there and propped up my backpack on the wall, and waited, as if, "sure, someone is coming to pick me up soon" kind of look.  I saw two younger kids (around 23 or so) walking toward me, and so I looked around to see if the other guy was gone, and I didn't see him anywhere, so I felt good that he had walked on.  So I followed behind these two other guys, and at just the right time, I dodged to the right to get into my gate.  Just as I was shutting it, I saw the guy who was following me, sitting on the same wall, across the street, watching me!  Damn, said I to myself!!!   Now he knows exactly where I live!

Went down the stairs to my apartment, and was putting away my food.  Much to my horror, and nearly my expectation, the doorbell rang....I looked in the peephole, and it was Rima, my beautiful landlady of 74 who also happens to be the founder of the Conservatory, with several guys around her.  I opened the door, and she said, "Was this man bothering you??"  At first, I couldn't believe what she was asking!  So I said, "he was following me, and NOW HE KNOWS WHERE I LIVE, which is exactly what I did not want!"  Then Rima explained that these two other "boys" were plain-clothes police!  They had perceived fully the situation from the street as I just experienced, and knew there was some problem, and they brought the guy to Rima's house, and she brought them all down to me.  It gives me great confidence that we are being well looked-after, here!  I was impressed! (Except that they brought him right to my door..) These guys are the undercover security for this particular area. None of them spoke English, so Rima had to tell them the story of the guy following me.  Then they called in other police (more plain-clothes), and they were interrogating this guy.  I felt bad for him, as obviously he didn't have much going for him...had a burn hole in his jacket, and the title "security" (how ironic) sewn onto it. He just looked so innocent, yet pummeled.  At one point they were questioning him, and he must have said something off-color, as one of the police guys slapped his face!  I felt really bad for him.  Then Rima told me that they would like me to go with them to the Police station to make a report to encourage this guy "not to come back".  It was all ridiculous, because he really hadn't done anything really wrong (though he followed me and was watching where I went), and now I was to make his life more miserable......but Rima said I should go, so I did.  They drove me to the police station, and it was freezing in that building! There was no heat in this place, but they were all impressively official in their duties, all very kind.

There was no "statement" going on, just some perfunctory action that was probably designed to make me feel better....but I wasn't the problem.  They asked me what happened, and I explained that he probably didn't do anything wrong, just followed me, and "perhaps he needs a good meal from you guys, or maybe he doesn't have a house?"  They smiled at me and said that he had a house, and he didn't need a meal...They just gave me a phone number to call if I see him again.  It was designed from their perspective, as I mentioned, to make him not want to come around any more…or so they said.

As I was leaving, I felt so sorry for the guy, and in my Montana way I whopped him gently on his arm and said, "it's ok", but when I hit him, he had such a fearful reaction that I just felt terrible for having done it! He didn't understand English, so all he knew was that I just whopped him.......He had earlier told the police that he'd been imprisoned, but I never understood whether it was from Israeli's, or Palestinians.  Poor guy.  So after he jumped from my whop, I just put my thumbs up and said, "it’s ok", like I was hoping he'd understand "two thumbs up!"  I smiled at him.  Felt so bad for the guy, really.

Israeli Incursion

The very next day, Thursday, January 4, Ramallah was literally attacked (invaded...they call it an "incursion") by Israeli's! I was sitting here writing to Lee, and I heard all kinds of guns and heavy explosion sounds, and a helicopter overhead (never a good sign).  I was telling him in the email that I hoped it was nothing bad, but I couldn't find anything immediate on any news source on the internet!  I had to cut the letter short and turn off my computer (I think it was around 4 PM), because I heard someone yelling, "help, help!", and I thought it was Rima, upstairs.  So I hurried out, and it was two young boys about 8 years old or so....As soon as I saw them, I said, “what is the matter?”, but they definitely didn't understand English.  They probably had not yelled “help”, but something in Arabic, which my own mind must have converted. They pointed at Rima's door, and so I wondered if they knew her, so I rang the doorbell and she came out and said they were just terrified from the gunfire, and had come onto her property.  They were waiting for their dad who was downtown, with the car parked outside Rima's gate.  So Rima let them in, and they literally ran inside the door. I asked what was going on, and she told me the Israeli's had just invaded the downtown, as they were looking for someone.  We watched on Al Jezeera TV, and they were bulldozing empty cars on the street in the center of town, as if they needed “something” to do for their time.  They bulldozed whatever they wanted. There were about 8 enormous Israeli vehicles.  It was fascinating to watch it happening on TV, live.  The satellite kept getting scrambled because of the overhead helicopter (another Israeli shooter).  The worst part is that I heard it coming, and couldn't find any news about what was happening from the internet, probably because it was only just then taking place!

Israeli Incursion

I was experiencing my own terror over the situation, but what was more devastating was seeing the reaction of these kids.  I wanted to cry so hard, but I didn't dare....I'm supposed to be the adult in the room. I got tears in my eyes, and was biting my lip to force them back.  Since these kids were waiting for their dad, they kept going out to check the car to see if he was back.  I was their little guardian, as I wouldn't let them go out there alone, and they knew it. I put my arm around one of the kids, and each time we'd turn around to head back in, I made sure he knew I was there, pointing him the right way. It got so he waited for me to follow right behind him, not as the first time, when he was just so scared and was running to the car and running back to Rima’s. We passed a car (right out the gate here) that had a bunch of people in the back seat crying.  Since we had come out more than once to check the boys' car, I saw them again, and I saw it was all little kids in the back.  I knocked on the window, and they were crying so hard, just terrified.  Again, I wanted to burst out crying right along with them.  They didn't understand English, and the girl at the door was so sweet, big huge tears all over her face, and I touched her cheek and comforted her as best I could, saying it would be alright. She smiled.  (The gunshots were loud everywhere, mostly from automatic weapons.)   When we got back to the house, I told Rima about them, so she went out to their car, and just then, their dad had arrived! Then the boys’ dad had arrived, too!!   Everyone was so relieved. It was heartbreaking to see all these children in trauma over this.  Rima was/is so wonderful, she takes it all in stride, since in times past the Israeli's have stormed her house!   She told me all the details, and how it was a rainy day when they did this, and she made them wipe their feet before they came in!  Isn't that just the best kind of human spirit?! A powerful woman teaching soldiers to be a more kindly invader!

Six people were killed in the day’s events. So now you can see how difficult it is for me to try to present some balanced picture on my website of life here in Palestine.  It is not a balanced life here. Who will help this on-going crisis? What country will step up and say, “enough”!

Vacation ends tomorrow, as I begin teaching again. Good timing for all of you, because this writing is terribly long-winded! J

Happy New Year, and may it be a great one!

Rhonda