Outbreak of the Intifada; Siege of Nazareth

Outbreak of the Intifada; Nazareth Siege
October 4, 2000

The good news is that I am safe.

The bad news is that my neighborhood, and my apartment building specifically, became the epicenter for the violence in Nazareth over the last 24 hours, and I spent most of that time close to the floor, peeking through shutters and hoping no stray bullets came through the walls.

It is very important to me that I explain to you not only what I experienced yesterday, but more importantly the events which caused such violence to happen here. Nazareth, which is the largest Arab city in Israel, has been peaceful throughout the 50 year existence of Israel and even the Intifada. Instead, the city is known for its nonviolent demonstrations and as a center for social change and community activism. There are two outspoken political parties, one Communist and the other Muslim, which actually function very close to their ideals and have made significant gains towards equal rights and public monies for Arabs in the city and the region. Many Palestinian organizations establish themselves here because of the incredibly progressive climate. Demonstrations and civil disobedience here are common. Violence is not.

However, the unusual events of the past month have created deep wounds in this city and created dry tinder for this last weekend. Two beloved men of the community, brothers who ran a jewelry store on the main street, were robbed by a Russian immigrant from Nazareth Elite, the Jewish settlement at the top of the hill. One of the brothers was killed and the other badly injured. Despite several witness descriptions of the robber and his getaway, the Israeli police have made pitifully little effort to investigate. In the meantime, the police force, which is organized on a country-wide level and places Jewish officers in Arab towns, began to leak their 'suspicions' of a prominent, Nazareth area Arab Knesset
member's involvement with underground terrorist movements to the media, without having first questioned the Knesset member or opening a formal investigation. There has also been the installation of surveillance cameras 'for tourist security in Mary's well square' which are remote-positionable and are often found directed towards the Communist party headquarters. However, even when these happened, Nazareth citizens responded through non-violent means, with a citywide shutdown after the death of the jeweler, and press conferences and media outcry at the Knesset member accusations and
surveillance.

Then, last Thursday, Ariel Sharon made a visit, complete with a heavy military contingent, to the Dome of the Rock. Sharon, once the Minister of Defense in charge of the Israeli Defense Force (army) is the man who most personally symbolises the death and suffering of the Palestinians, and left the entire Muslim community reeling with offense at his gesture. On Friday, Muslim protesters who gathered at the Dome were surrounded by both police in riot gear and the army. Some of the protestors threw stones down at the Wailing Wall. The army responded with snipers and killed four Muslims, just after noon prayers. On Saturday, the grief and anger of the Muslim community rose through the funerals of those four and Arab areas in the Galilee began to shut down in protest. Nazareth, which was in the middle of its Sacred Music Festival, held two nonviolent protests. I attended the first one in the intersection by Mary's Well Square sponsored by the communist party. We held signs in Arabic, Hebrew and English calling for an end to the police brutality and discrimination. At this time, the police were absent, but their camera was moving, watching carefully as key members moved about. Then several young boys climbed up the pole that held the camera and tied a plastic bag over the lens. The demonstration disbanded at noon for the Muslim prayers. A few hours later, while I was shopping in the souk and having coffee and lunch with friends, the Muslim party held a nonviolent protest at the bus stop in the intersection by the Basilica, with signs and singing. By the time I crossed back to Mary's well in late afternoon, the police camera had been taken down and the festival stage packed up. Violence was erupting elsewhere and the city was shutting down. The soldiers came into Nazareth sometime before dawn on Sunday.

On Sundays, Nazareth is usually similar to Jewish cities on Shabbat--closed. My friend Martina picked me up in her car for dinner at her house, and took me through downtown before I could even ask if it was safe. The soldiers and police were in riot gear, shooting tear gas and bullets at the groups of teenage boys throwing stones. The boys had set up barricades in the street to prevent Jewish-run bus and tourist companies from driving through (Arab citizens in their cars could easily negotiate the paths around the barricades, or take the steeper mountain roads). In addition, the roads between Nazareth and Nazareth Elite was barricaded, with dozens of boys shouting protests and throwing stones at the soldiers and police. (this was the video mostly shown on tv).

Yet despite the fighting in downtown Nazareth, (over a half-hour walk from my apartment) my neighborhood had been completely peaceful throughout the weekend and all day Monday. We live at the city limits on the road to Haifa which was still clear and we knew we could still get out if things did get bad. I even walked out on my balcony around 11pm to admire how calm it was, when I looked over the edge and saw the fires in the street. I screamed without even thinking, which startled the Israeli soldiers that I hadn't seen standing there in the dark. They pointed their guns at me and started yelling in Hebrew, and I dove for the floor and crawled back inside. My housemates started crying and we grabbed our passports and ran downstairs to our landlady Sundus' apartment. Inside the children were screaming and crying and we huddled on the floor while Sundus listened to the Nazareth radio for details. The front of the apartment had a large plate glass window, but the bedrooms had the metal shutter windows from which we could carefully watch the street later. We heard yelling outside and shots being fired, then everything was quiet. Within an hour, the fire was out and the soldiers were gone. We stayed in her apartment that night and slept on the floor.

Tuesday morning, we woke up early to watch the cable news and listen to the radio again. However, nothing was in the street except the burn marks on the road. I even called Jack (my foster father) and told him everything was all right, and agreed with him that we shouldn't worry my mother (sorry mom). However, we couldn't get in touch with the U.S. embassy, and the Australian embassy told my housemate that nothing was going on so far and they wouldn't evacuate her unless the city was under siege. The neighbors were all doing housework, confident that it the violence here had been short lived.

The city was still on strike and we needed groceries badly, so we went up to our apartment to shower and got ready to drive with Sundis to the supermarket in Nazareth Elite, the Jewish settlement. We were only ten minutes from leaving the house when several groups of teenage boys converged on the street in front of the house and started to throw more tires and rubble into the road, blocking traffic. They pulled rocks and tiles from the construction site across the road and started accumulating stones to throw. Next they poured gasoline over the tires and set them on fire. I remembered leaving the balcony door open that morning when I went out to look at the damage. When I ran upstairs to close it, thick black smoke was already pouring into our apartment through the balcony and all the window screens, and the wind was blowing it in circles around our apartment so that it came in from every direction. I shut them all as well as I could, and grabbed my backpack which I had packed that morning 'just in case', and locked the doors and ran downstairs. The smoke had collected in our stairway as well.

Soon the police and soldiers arrived and started shooting both tear gas, which came in with the smoke through spaces in the window frames, and bullets at the boys. By that time there were maybe 150- 200 teenagers and younger boys, some certainly ten or younger, in the street behind the barricade. Most of them scattered when the shooting began, some into the lower neighborhood, some behind our house, some to the school next door, and some behind the cars in front of our house. For the next several hours, we listened to the shots being fired around and above our building, and we watched through the shutters as the police invaded houses in the lower neighborhood. I saw three boys beaten by the police and soldiers, kicking them in the stomach and groin, as two other soldiers held each boy by the arms. The police and soldiers stayed in the road where they could fire both upwards and down into the two sides of the neighborhood during the hours-long standoff. They continued to shoot into the school, where the boys had lowered the Israeli flag and raised the Palestinian one instead. The soldiers finally invaded the school around 5pm, beating the boys and taking them away in the vans. Next a car came and one of the mothers ran to the soldiers, sobbing and falling over herself, asking where her boy was. They made her get back in the car and started ridiculing her. I don't know if they told her where to find her boy or not.

It was very clear throughout the violence, both in front of my house, in downtown Nazareth, and even in the video clips of the rest of Israel and Gaza and the West Bank, that only teenage boys and young men were taking part in the fighting. This was not an organized campaign, a formal plan of civil disobedience. It was raw anger and hurt, a feeling of betrayal once again by the government on both the national and local level. Definitely for the Muslims it was a feeling of religious offense and persecution. The frightening thing in Nazareth is that while teens and adults alike have previously been in solidarity in nonviolent progressive action, this time the younger generation felt the need to resort to the violence of fiery barricades and throwing stones. In Nazareth and throughout the country, young arab men lost patience with nonviolent means of asserting and protecting their civil rights. Unfortunately, when the police and army lose patience, they use machine guns and the teenagers die.


A little while later, several of the police left and we went up into our apartment to start cleaning. It didn't look dirty at first, but as we walked across the floor and touched things, the ashes became quite clear. We scrubbed everything, but the wind is continuing to blow ash around and inside. I have to start all over again tomorrow.

The soldiers finally left around midnight last night, and that was strangely when I first began to feel fear. Before I was very nervous and tense, absorbed in watching the situation in the neighborhood and unsure when it would finally end. When the violence was outside, I only thought about the safety of our group and what the soldiers would do to the protestors. But once it was quiet and I tried to sleep, every sound became a soldier and a riot about to begin again. The garbage truck at 4am almost scared me to death. Before I went to sleep I triple checked every lock to our apartment, knowing that it was impossible for anyone to get in, but it still wasn't enough. I wanted to take a sleeping pill and get some rest, but what if they came back and I needed to be awake? I wanted to use ear plugs, but what if I didn't hear the violence start back up again? After the garbage truck, I decided to use the ear plugs.

My housemates were in a similar state. Before I called Jack, their parents had called and ordered them out of the country after watching the news. They have had a difficult time adjusting to life over here to begin with, and had already talked on Monday afternoon of leaving. Last night they packed their bags. Today they went to Tel Aviv on holiday, and I don't know whether they will decide to stay or go.

Today there was no violence. There are burn marks in the street, but everything else is back to normal. Stores are open again, the funerals are over, the buses are running. But the community is badly shaken. As everyone said, 'Nothing like this _ever_ happens in Nazareth.' One 16 year old was killed, but many others injured by bullets and beatings and tear gas. One car with a woman and her children was riddled with bullets and she is in critical condition. She's the banker that handles our office accounts.

I can assure you all that I am going somewhere else this weekend, at least just to wind down. Tonight I'm going to Martina's for dinner and to relax. The office has been wonderful about stuffing me with sweets again, and emailing freely. If Martina hadn't called first, I would have holidayed in Acre with Aida. I will also be getting a cell phone. I had access to a phone twice in the last five days, and one of those times was ten minutes ago. I'll send around the number as soon as I get it.

I'll definitely be in the office tomorrow and maybe Friday, and let you know how the weekend goes.

Peace (I hope)

Le Anne

Marhaba Man

Marhaba Man
September 28, 2000

Sigh, only in the country three weeks, and have I got one drunk (or crazy) man hanging on me. I call him Marhaba Man, since as I almost stepped on him in the street the second night I was here. I apologized as best I could, which was at that point, saying marhaba (hi in Arabic). Suddenly he got this crazy delighted look on his face and said, "Marhaba, Marhaba, you American girl! Marhaba Marhaba!" And followed us halfway home loudly professing his love for us. But after a while he left us and we thought nothing more of it.

Then two days later...I was walking home from work at five-ish and just as I got to the busiest intersection, I spot him from over a hundred yards away across 6 lanes of traffic. He yelled, "Marhaba, American woman!!!," bounded across those 6 lanes of traffic, ran up to me, grabbed both cheeks and kissed me full on the face. Bleh! Traffic came to a sudden halt. If I could have remembered it, I would have said, Imshee! (piss off!) but I only remembered La Shukran! (no thank you!) and squirmed out. The cars were honking at him and finally he left me alone, but before he did he called to me, "Marhaba American woman, I love you!!!" And all the way home, I should have been scared witless, but I couldn't stop laughing all night. I haven't seen him since. Only hope you're all getting muchas smooches too....

love Le Anne

Dancing lessons with the Communist Party and Sunday Dinner in a Muslim House

Dancing Lessons with the Communist Party and Sunday Dinner in a Muslim House…
September 27, 2000

It's been a strange week, partly because I've been waylaid a few days with a nasty sinus infection. I’m only now beginning to understand that it may have something to do with the new construction and all that extra dust across the road. The 6 sheep and their stack of hay have been moved elsewhere and there's a big hole in the
ground.

Nazareth seems to have a special dispensation to build, (everywhere else Palestinian homes are being bulldozed) and build they do, like you wouldn't believe. It seems all the neighbors are out on the weekend adding another level to their houses, and semi-high-rise apartments are cropping up all over. Should be interesting to watch.

Last Friday we went with our new friend Abed to watch his Depke (Palestinian folk dancing) group practice downtown. On the way, we learned that the interesting building with all the Palestinian protest signs housed the Palestinian Communist party, otherwise known as the Palestinian Democratic Front. Why else would a painting of Che Guevara be in the middle of Nazareth? So we figured this group had interesting neighbors. However, as Abed took us in to meet the leader of the party, we realized the Communist party actually owned the building and sponsored the dancing group. This is not as bad as it seems. The party is actually the second largest in Nazareth and held with few of the negative connotations it has in the U.S. So, was I worried? Actually, it seemed the perfect time to mention that I'd been part of the International May Day march on Washington with the Communists when I was in the South Bronx. (Didn't mention that I had been a rather unwilling participant at that time.) They sponsor the group because one of their main beliefs is to preserve and pass on the Palestinian traditions, which are all too quickly being lost in this generation. So to make a long story short, this Friday and every other one after it, I will be downtown trying to cure myself of my three left feet and discussing the revolution on the side.

After practice, we all went to the sheesha bar in Mary's Well Square for supper. A sheesha is a water pipe, or hubbly-bubbly, with flavored tobacco, like in Alice in Wonderland. So the waiters came out and gave us Fez hats to wear and I will have pictures to show you all. (My brothers better not laugh, because Christmas is
coming…) While we were waiting for our suppers, we hopped over to the Greek orthodox annunciation church, which contains the source of Mary's well. Abed, who let it be known is Muslim and has never before set foot in that church, was shortly thereafter accosted by Italian tourists who wanted to know the history of the place. No, Abed doesn't speak Italian, but he did a pretty good sign language explanation of it all, including the pregnant Mary part. Next week we're going to the Catholic Basilica and going to see if we can pick up a few extra bucks…

Abed invited us to his family's home for Sunday dinner. Now I said I was cooking vegetarian, but don't expect to see me coming home any skinnier, because there is a countrywide conspiracy to keep me plump. His mother brought out this huge platter of mensaf, I think, which is rice and ground beef, topped with chicken and eaten with cooked yogurt. You don't see this much food at Thanksgiving. It was wonderful, even after the mandatory third helping. We waddled home several hours later.

I am now in the girl's shelter on Monday afternoons and evenings, and this is by far the most rewarding part of my work. Last time I brought my guitar and tried to teach a song in English, but mostly they were all just interested in trying it out themselves. Then they try to teach me other types of Arab dancing, so I really won't have any excuse if I come home uncoordinated. I'm now trying to master the head bob and the `hip thing', and lets not even get started on the `chest wiggle'. Yesterday afternoon I was invited for `arts and crafts.' Imagine my surprise when they were all sitting in a circle doing cross-stitch! When was the last time you saw American teenage girls do cross-stitch, and enjoy it??? But they do this at least four times a week, and often sell the results at the yearly charity ball. So now I am learning too. The teacher starts random pieces, and then hands them to me to finish.

I'm not sure if I told you about Wafaa, my somewhat English-speaking friend at the shelter. I thought she was thirteen. She's 20. She actually looks a lot like Tom (my brother), only female and much darker skinned. I haven't figured out what brought her there specifically yet, and maybe I don't need to know. The first day there, she made me a beautiful beaded bracelet and wrote me notes, and I wrote about myself in her journal, and told her I'd be coming every week. She also translated everything between me and the other girls who don't speak any English. I probably learned more Arabic from two hours with her than in the previous two weeks.

When I showed up yesterday, I was heartbroken. They told me she went home. And I know that if I'm going to work in a shelter, then I have to accept that, girls will come in and go out and not to get overly attached. So I tried not to look too disappointed and focused on my cross-stitch. But wouldn't you know who showed up just an hour before I came the first time, carrying everything she had in a shopping bag! I don't know exactly yet what happened. She said she `escaped' with some other girls last week, but knew I was coming back and missed me. Then she made me two more bracelets and played with my guitar. Just in case this time, I gave her my address at the seminary for next year.

The office end has been extremely busy these last few days, which is why you're getting all of this at once. I am writing reports for different foundations and helping with the strategic planning. A lot of the issues at this shelter apply to the ones back home. For example, the debate today was what to do when the staff knew that an adult woman would always be in danger of being murdered, though the woman herself kept returning to the situation. In this case, her husband attempted to kill her, but didn't succeed and was sent to jail. When she returned home from the shelter, her male cousin tried to kill her as well. Now he's in jail and she wants to go home again, where other relatives are similarly ready to go after her. At least where the woman is from, the killers are being held in jail. As I said before, this doesn't happen too often. I will give further updates about the situation of Palestinian women soon, I promise.

I slept in a refugee camp, and other West Bank tales

I Slept in a Refugee Camp, and Other West Bank Tales
September 20, 2000

Well, if you saw an orange-shirted white girl on CNN over the weekend you know where I was. As you may know, a worldwide 'right to return' rally was held this last weekend. (The right to return is a UN mandate stating that it is a universal human right to return to one's native lands after a war or conflict. Palestinians who were forced into the refugee camps in 1948, for example, are still living there). And one of those rallies was held at the Dheisha refugee camp in Bethlehem, marching to a neighboring refugee camp in nearby Beit Jala.

I had started off Saturday expecting to go shopping in Jerusalem with my housemates, which I wasn't that excited about. (Mmmm...shopping...) So when three other friends unexpectedly jumped into our service (cheap shared taxi) and announced they were going to the protest, I changed my plans.

It turned out to be a most amazing weekend. We first went to a meeting of Palestinians from both sides of the Green line (West Bank versus Israel proper) discussing how to improve their solidarity with one another. Then we went to the camp. You simply cannot imagine the living conditions of what has become a permanent, confined ghetto of refugees. The tents of the original camp are gone, replaced by basic concrete structures. Even though the Israeli soldiers are gone, there is nowhere for these people to go. They aren't allowed to build new homes anywhere else.

We went to the children's center in the middle of the camp. Two weeks ago, it housed a computer lab, a children's library, a cultural exchange program, and places to teach dancing and other activities for the kids. Last week, arsonists came in from outside the camp, stole all the computers, poured kerosene over everything, and burned it all. They had just begun to clear out the debris. The structure is still standing, but of course none of the wiring is safe. I don't know what they are going to do. 400 children a day were using that center.

Even though the people in the camps haven't been able to leave, they have had more control over their camp since the Israelis left. So they have recently completed a youth hostel on the grounds of the camp, which will be staffed by the women who live in Dheisha. This serves the double purpose of bringing income and employment to some
of the Dheisha residents, and awareness about their conditions to the young people who will stay there.

The march, and the rally afterwards, were fantastic. We must have blocked traffic for maybe three miles, cautiously avoiding a clash with the Israeli border police (made a detour) There were hundreds of Palestinians, and many of the human rights workers from around the country. The children took the greatest part in the event, carrying the banners and singing solidarity and peace songs on a megaphone, and most impressively, speaking at the rally. I have heard impassioned political speeches before, but never by twelve year olds. The rally ended across from a cemetery and a memorial for some twenty refugee children who had been killed by soldiers.

We did a lot of walking that day, also because the service driver was Israeli and heard us talking about the rally. So he dropped us off in the middle of a Hasidic neighborhood (read: closed on Shabbat) and we walked two miles to the real service stop in Jerusalem.

That night we also went to this fantastic Bedouin style nightclub called 'Memories'. Strangely there were several Elvis photos on the wall. But I loved the couches and low tables and antique instruments hanging on the walls. My friends kept trying to get me to dance, but unfortunately my feet were on the verge of bleeding from the walking. So I made good use of that couch and nursed my one Danish beer.

Tell you what--this has been too long, and I promise to catch you up to date later. I should write shorter and more often instead. Hope all is going well in the States, and I appreciate all the notes I am getting.

Peace,
Le Anne

First Impressions

Greetings, everyone!I have arrived safely and happily in Nazareth. Only a few minorglitches, like the pilot missed the runway the first time around.("We'll just bring'er up and try again," he said...) I found out themain bus stop in Nazareth looks like an abandoned alley at 10 pm whenI got there (eek!) But the other volunteers found me soon enough andall is well.I am in for some pretty serious work here in the next year. First ofall, I am working for the Women Against Violence center (arabic nameunpronounceable), which is a recent change of plans. Their previousresource and project developer eloped to Brazil, so I was 'borrowed'from the Human Rights Association for my experience with SMART team.WAV is the only system of shelters and crisis services available inArabic for battered and raped Palestinian women and teenage girls.In fact, its the only one in the entire Middle East. The situationis more grim because once raped, they (girls especially) are subjectto family honor killings in rural and traditional families. AndIsraeli courts are largely looking the other way. There have been about 7 honor killings per year (reported)in the last ten years. My first job is to restore order to the chaos my predecessor left behind. Then, I am putting my English (and likely German)to work ingrantwriting and fundraising, developing new projects for the center,I would like to pave the way for a doubling of shelter space, mostlythrough in-kind donations, as they turned away 102 women for the 67they could care for last year. I should also be doing some Englishtutoring for the staff, building a website, and we'll see afterthat. I will be touring with my boss, Aida Touma-Suliman, later thisfall around the country conducting lectures and workshops.I live 100 yards outside the city limits, its about a half hour walkinto work. Another 15 minutes maybe to the Basilica. I share thevolunteer apartment which has a huge balcony overlooking amicroscopic farm and a mosque on the other side of the highway. Forfuture reference, the farm seems to be in the middle of a steel yard,and has 6 sheep, a stack of hay, one horse, one cow. The mosque,because of curious color choices, will heretofore be known asthe "funky mosque." The muezzin seems to be a bit young because hisvoice cracks often during call to prayer. But it is still the mostbeautiful sound to hear six muezzins calling at once!It's an eye-opener to be in Nazareth. The neighborhood I work inlooks not unlike central Tegucigalpa after the hurricane. There aremultiple collapsed buildings and very poor or nonexistent roads andinfrastructure problems. I actually walk in on dust and broken glasspathways along the road. This is not the tourist side we saw twoyears ago on May Term. Of course Nazrat Illit, the Israelisettlement up the mountain, is in perfect condition. That isan 'economic development zone.'Anyway. The volunteer group around here is very close and I ammaking lots of friends. I was treated to a bedouin-style party onthe beach at the sea of Galilee last weekend, courtesy of the localPalestinians our age, and got a free sitar lesson. Next weekend, I'mtaking the other volunteers to Jerusalem for the grand tour. InNovember, we can go to Cairo for $50 for the end of Ramadan. $8bucks or less gets you anywhere in the country. So there will beplenty of relief to the demanding work!I don't think I'll write too often, because I know you are all busierthan I am, and you might be a tad bitter if I mention they brought inbaklava and sweets for lunch (somebody bought a car and needed tocelebrate--do you understand the parable of the lost coin now!)whenWartburg probably served scrod cod. Let me know if/how often youwant to be updated. Have a great year!!!!Peace,Le Anne