Ps

I remembered the cinnamon sticks.

Our day of rest!!

Our work is done and we find ourselves back in Jerusalem weary and overwhelmed by our experience of the past two weeks.
However we can relax for today is our day off.

So where do we find ourselves after queing in the post office for little short of an hour in order to send a thank you gift to our hosts in Gaza only to be told that the likelyhood of it reaching its destination is slim.

We find ourselves at Yad Vashem, the Holocaust Museum. I am not even going to attempt to describe this experience, I don't have the words or the capacity right now.

I am ready for home, I feel ready to wrap myself up in my duvet and after a good long sleep and a hot bath try to begin to process some of my experiences here. I need some normality.
I need a safe space. I need to cry about everything and everyone.
love from Jerusalem

Liz xxx

Farewell from the Holly Land*

We had a little time to spare today, our last day, so thought we would have an emotionally relaxing time by visiting Yad Veshem followed by a light tour of the Museum of the Seam.

Liz is currently in the recovery position in the Hashimi.

I am saving my recovery for a few beers later in the Jerusalem Hotel - the refuge of free thought, tolerance and resistance (we know you're great, Raed Saadeh, Our Man in Jerusalem).

Yad Veshem, the Holocaust Museum, an acutely painful and monumental experience: two quotes from there -

"In Eastern Europe, the Germans incarcerated the Jews in severely crowded Ghettos, behind fences and walls. They cut [them] off from their surroundings and their sources of livelihood, and condemned them to a life of humiliation, poverty, degeneration and death"

"A country is not just what it does - it is also what it tolerates..." (Kurt Tucholsky, German essayist of Jewish origin)

Enough of that.

The Museum of the Seam is on the Israeli side of the road splitting East and West Jerusalem. It is thoughtful and provocative exploration of how our denial of the humanity of the (marginalised) other makes exploitation possible (inevitable?). It was also a lot less pretentious than this sounds because it was all done through multimedia arts, with the odd quote from Edward Said et al.

There was also free coffee and biscuits on the roof. Which was very nice.

Wish us luck on leaving. We have left a copy of the material on our memory sticks with Mo in Nablus, which takes some of the worry out of the exit strategy. But I really don't want to miss the flight, I think it leaves about 9am.

Thank you thank you thank you to all the fine people who have given us time and patience. We know this is precious time in places where all resources are stretched to the limit. We will try to honour that time.

Goodbye.


* This final post is brought to you courtesy of the Holly Land Cafe, Ramalla.

Palestine Syndrome

I am experiencing Palestine Syndrome these last few days. I have been feeling so emotionally exhausted and overwhelmed by what I have seen and heard here that I am unable to absorb any more stories , in fact part of me does not want to hear any more stories or see any more demolished homes , deserted streets and failing businesses cos i just don't know what to do with the information. I could cry 24/7 and certainly I've done my fair share but it now seems my body has shut down. I have an overwhelming desire to sleep for hours and hours and hours and not get up. This is my experience and I have only been here for a matter of days. I cannot begin to imagine a life here.

However am slightly improved today after spending yesterday afternoon at the Turkish baths in an attempt to revitalise myself. I find myself torn between never wanting to leave the Palestinian people, they are truly amazing, the kindest and most hospitable I have ever met although the lamb sandwich I was given this morning I could have done without! On the other hand i feel that i want to get away from here because of the distress the situation here is causing me. Things are worse here than I ever anticipated.

It do however feel privileged to be here and wouldn't swap this experience for the world but am ready to experience life as i know it. We are so so lucky to have the freedom we have in the UK.
Liz x

Sideways scouts

Sideways scouts



and here I am again. These are probably the last pictures you are going to get for a while as the camera is eloping with a girl from Balata. So I thought the Palestinian scouts deserved a mention. This lot are the Nablus scouts. They can make one hell of a noise. Apparently there is a jamboree of arab scouts in Bethlehem every Christmas and it is traditional for it to end in a pitched battle between rival factions. The Syrian troops are reputedly the feistiest and generally kick things off. So, now you know, don't mess with the scouts.






The pram was hanging out in a traditional spice and herbal medicine workshop. It is fairly improbable and looks like it could actually have been knitted and thus deserves immortalisation in the blogosphere.

The kids are in Balata - we are back there shortly. They have more bounce per ounce than your average kid.

Hello from Balata camp


I will be brief as my head isn't working properly at the moment. This particular moment comes to you courtesy of some emergency neurological circuits bypassing the information overload produced by back to back meetings all day.


Hey, had you noticed that I get more circumlocutive the more knackered I am? That can't be right, surely? Must see a mental health professional. But not today please. I have seen more than is healthy. Anyway. Here's a photo:


Recognise anything Mika?

Liz is in the Turkish baths right now but promises to blog later...

The amazing disappearing trick

I have no idea why the last couple of posts aren't appearing on the blog at the moment - maybe they will reappear as magically as they went.

But their mysterious momentary hiatus has reminded me of the amazing disappearing Palestinian trick that an Israeli demonstrated for us. It goes like this:

First, you find yourself a wide eyed and eager (and possibly fluffy tailed) tourist and wait until they ask where the Palestinians are, are they over there, for instance, in that [gesticulate in direction of choice] town?

Oh no, you say, [with air of great condescension] Those people are Israeli Arabs.

Israeli Arabs?

No! Not Israeli Arabs.

Not Israeli Arabs?

There are no Israeli Arabs. They like to be called Israeli Citizens. [with air of sincere finality]

Et voila, the disappearing Palestinians.

This doesn't happen here in the West Bank, however - which is, as everybody knows (even fluffy tourists) full of bad bad bad Palestinians, as bad as our new friend Mohammed, who is so bad he needed to be shot in the back and imprisoned to try and improve him.

Personally I cannot find anything to improve.

He sends love, Mika xx

ps many gunshots outside the hotel. think we will stay here. fairly scary. Someone just wandered in and told me to stop worrying.