It is already a month and a half when I entered the Palestinian territories, but so far I managed only to post things on facebook. I do not know why. My dream is to be a travel writer or a researcher (yes, I'm 32 and I still dream about the different future careers:), but somehow this blog stayed empty and silent for quite a while.
I was in Palestine before. It was 2013 and the trip to Hebron broke my heart. This cold execution of apartheid system was something inconceivable. Al-Shuhada street - closed for Palestinians, checkpoints in the middle of the city, streets to walk for Jews and for Palestinians. It seemed as if a scene from the dystopian movie. Or thing from the past. Not now, when we talk so much about the importance of the human rights. Not now when we are so interconnected and we know the price of silence. And not by Jews, not by Jews. And yet is was there. This scene. Cold injustice.
I did not know then that I would come back. I did not know then that it would take almost 4 years to do that. And I have to tell you that it is worse than I had imagined or saw during the trip.
I live now in the Beit Jibrin refugee camp, which is based in Bethlehem, and I help Echlas, a woman with severe disabilities. Me and the other (or sometimes others) volunteer have to be Echlas legs and hands, but the head is completely her own. She is a very strong and independent woman. So I live with her and she lets me to experience the life in the Occupied Palestinian Territories. Also, she teaches me Arabic (local dialect).
I think it was hard to write before because I could not deal with my emotions which are boiling. I am angry and I feel helpless. Bethlehem should be in the Area A - so, completely under the Palestinian control. Unfortunately, Israel decided to build an apartheid wall in the middle of the city.
A graffiti in Aida refugee camp. One side of the camp borders the Israeli wall.
Once in a while Palestinians organzie the demonstration. Recently there were quite a lot of those, because of the support for the prisoners hunger strike which started 31 days ago. Also, on the 15th of May there was a Nakba (catastrophe) day.
Demonstration in support for the prisoners hunger strike.
The thing is that there is a strange tradition during the demonstration days. It starts quite joyfully (maybe not a right word). there is a lot of children and women. They carry Palestinian flags, posters of Marwan Barghouti and chant. Then they approach the wall. And then suddenly the soldiers start shooting tear gas and sometimes rubber bullets. Without any warning. Without any reason. Are they having fun? Shooting at children and women, seeing people run? And when children and women are gone, the second part starts: the fight between David and Goliath: some teenagers or very young men start throwing stones and soldiers just bombard them with the tear gas.
Some journalists get hurt, some children get arrested. In the western world this is not even the news. The situation of Palestinians gets worse and life goes on.
I could not breath. I could not write. I was too angry. But I have to. Writing calms my nerves. And I am the witness, therefore I have to speak up.
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