Five Big Cities of the West Bank

I met A'stein in one of many Old City's hostels in Jerusalem. Typically stereotypic - big Norwegian guy. He joined me when I was chilling out after a long hot day, in front of TV, watching Beijing Olympics (no, I didn't boycott it, as I love sport too much). We started chatting. His first question was so standard – "Where are you from?" - that I was already with one leg in my bad. But as I don't judge people so fast, I thought I would give him a chance see what he wants to say. At the end of the day he was friendly and although seemed very usual, what happened next has proved again, that appearances are deceptive…

I didn't really want to stay in Jerusalem as it is full of tourists, but I had my apartment in Ramallah booked in two days time, so I had to kill those two days. The first night wasn't very exciting and my mind was on the other side of The Wall, while my body was still in Jerusalem.

So I was sitting with Astein, watching light athletics and talking. It didn't take long to switch from sport to politics. But who doesn’t talk about politics here? Astein had told me what made him come to Israel and the oPt. One day - he said - he bought 20 black bin bags and a pair of working gloves and took the first available flight to Tel Aviv. In the Arab Quarter of the Old City of Jerusalem, he filled them all up with rubbish. He cleaned up an entire school yard and a couple of contiguous streets and went for a beer… When I heard this story I went for a beer with him...I knew in that moment, that I would have a good laugh with him…it wasn't a usual tourist as I thought about him. He was far from being 'normal' according to any standards.

It was Friday, Shabbat, but in Jaffa Street nobody seemed to care about this fact. On our way in, we met one old Orthodox Jew. I spotted him a few hours earlier in the Arabic Quarter. He stood in one place for at least three hours –although he looked like he was there for 5 years - taking all kind of insults from the Arabs on his chin. His clothes and hat were dusty, like he just got back from Paris-Dakar rally, his bird long and gray, his eyes barely seen from behind thick round glasses. He was skinny and looked miserable…and lost. Only one thing came to my mind when I noticed him– apart from the fact that I craved to take a portrait of his exceptional figure – Who are you and what the hell are you doing in the Arab Quarter on Shabbat?!...I asked…he turned out to be a very friendly man. His voice was muted. Every articulated word required a lot of effort. It didn't surprise me. It matched the rest of his characteristics. So why was he standing there, for so many hours, in the heat? The answer couldn't be more simple: 'it was a very good spot for people watching'…Hah, the same for me-I thought-and I shook his hand…It was so worm! It must have had at least 39°C!

When we met him with Astein, he stood in a different spot and the temperature of his hands was regular. I introduced both guys to each other. Everyone, not excluding myself, when hearing the name of the Norwegian giant asked as they wanted to correct him – like he couldn't pronounce his own name – "Einstein, you mean? Astein would then explain that neither Einstein nor Frankenstein...There was no one to compare him with, even with the greatest indeed.

At that moment, while standing with these two fellows, I felt that I was the most ordinary person in the world. It is quite amazing how fate can randomly bring people together. Or maybe it is this holly place with its unique atmosphere that make things happen. Go to Amsterdam and you may experience something slightly similar.

Anyway, all of this was just a prelude to what was waiting for me later on that night…

We went to a place, which Astein claimed was "the Jerusalem's capital of rock and roll". We had one beer, then another one...Aistein started turning into a beast. A real viking fighting in the name of all oppressed and tyrannized Palestinians. He was a hero of all those who can't see their families because of road closures, impassable checkpoints, forbidden roads... A defender of all kids who cannot attend schools, all youth who cannot study at Universities, all mothers who are forced to give birth in the heat in front of merciless IDF soldiers... He was an idol of all Palestinian people who's houses have been demolished without notice, of all those who live in fear of being arrested... An idol of all farmers whose land have been stolen and who's olive trees uprooted...He was an advocate of everyone attacked by an extremist settler on the way to school or work and an advocate of every civilian shoot by Israeli bullets.

This story, although analogical to the one from the plane, had a very different dynamics. Here, even though alienated in our advocacy of the Palestinian cause, they were the rest of the actors (about 200 people) who must have felt awkward. Astein, who I had asked 30, or not…60(!) times to give everyone a break persevered to express his views. The views so unpopular in the Jewish society. After the 4th beer I had given up. I let him be and talk...I even enjoyed his performance. But I don't think that all Israelis who had to listen - dozens of times – about "FIVE BIG CITIES OF THE WEST BANK" were particularly entertained. I was…And for me he was a star of the night. His speech, repeated over and over again, was a classic of good campaigning – short, catchy and LOUD. It remained deeply in my – and I am sure in others - memory... probably forever. And I think that Astein has got a very big potential. Maybe his next project will be realized in a school class instead of a school yard. I wish, for the benefit of both – Jews and Arabs.

So remember you too: "FIVE BIG CITIES OF THE WEST BANK: Ramallah, Jenin, Nablus, Jericho and Betlehem must remain Palestinian and Western Jerusalem should become a capital of Israel".

Let's celebrate it

It starts tomorrow...Ramadan.

I have declared to several people, that I will try, but it was a week ago! Those declarations were easy to make, believe me. From tomorrow morning, before the Sun raises, they will have to become a reality. From 3:30 until 17:30 I will not eat or drink. Does it sound tough?

Smokers are not allowed to smoke. Put yourself in their shoes…!

I have read somewhere, that among Muslims who undertake a radical form of fasting during Ramadan, women are forbidden to have period. Overall, I must consider myself quite lucky. I am not addicted to nicotine and I am a man.

But don't get mislead. Ramadan doesn't have negative connotations for Muslim Arabs. On the contrary, everyone here is waiting for this as for the biggest fest. During the day restaurants will be closed, but with the dusk, the city will turn into a colourful gathering of happy people. Streets will be buzzing and gastronomic business will be in its zenith. Shops will full of sweets prepared only for this special occasion, which happens once in a year. And everyone will be eating…and eating a lot, because when the next day comes, after dawn, the whole story will start again. And this scheme will continue for one month.

People here say that it is healthy. I always thought, that it is unhealthy to devour before going to sleep and then not eat or drink for the entire day, when your body and mind need it most, to function effectively. Maybe I was wrong…

You won't know how something "tastes" unless you try it. One famous Polish anthropologist, Bronislaw Malinowski was getting to know cultures in more pleasant version of empiric way. Based on his experience he wrote The Sexual Life of Savages in North-Western Melanesia…

Anyway, if so many people can fast in Ramadan, why couldn't I do it for once in my life? Can you imagine my CV, under Personal Achievements:

Fasted for a month in Ramadan

The only Muslim on the plane

The time has come. Although for "security reasons" I decided to give up my wonderful plan of getting to Ramallah overland (via The Balkans, Turkey, Syria, Lebanon and Jordan), I was taking a plane to Tel Aviv very excited. While my trip through the Arabic countries almost certainly guaranteed problems at the King Hussein Bridge, from the always suspicious Israelis, a direct flight by Swiss Airlines was meant to be a peace of cake. In my situation, with a perspective of a dream work for a local NGO, in favour of democracy in the Free Palestine, it seemed thoughtless to risk being turned back from the crossing. Neither pleasant was a vision of getting only a short-term stay (instead of allowed 3 months), due to malicious decision of a custom officer…I had to sacrifice a great trip, but I was safe…. I was flying as a tourist to 'visit my Israeli friends. I was a Christian who came to see a beautiful country of Israel with its' holy sites'. What was going to happen could have proved the planned option a calm before the storm.

Swiss Airlines offer an impressive variety of choice of meals. Which one do you choose when you go to an Arabic country? Obviously a Muslim meal! At least that's what I did. Unfortunately, everyone else on the plane, for some reason, selected a Kosher version…Well, I have always stood out from the crowd, so why not this time? Believe me it is not the best feeling to sit in a close space next to an orthodox Jew, and surrounded by even more Jews (all of them hatched…), having a Palestinian flag sticking out from the back of your sit, without a possibility of escaping…And maybe it is also not the best idea to stand out, as there are Mossad agents planted on every flight to Tel Aviv…

But maybe the most important thing is to be faithful to your conscience? Hmm…this time I was in doubt for a longer moment…for a prolonged moment of one of the most embarrassing and odd situations I could imagine. It was one of those moments that when it happens, you wish it was over, but it seems like ages. And it was one of those moments that you later wonder, have had no right to have happened…but it happened.

I just didn't predict that on the plane would be just Jews. Jews from all over the world, of different origins, speaking various languages…but feeling united about their cause. And among them…one black sheep (in fact a green one, as I was coincidently wearing a green T-shirt, a T-shirt in a colour of Hamas). An overwhelming atmosphere of unity around me and of alienation inside me. I also couldn't predict the system of some idiotic (I can't find more appropriate word) flags. I wouldn't imagine in my worst nightmares, that a stewardess would come with a list of people who chose other than standard meals, to loudly confirm that they are 'different'. I felt like punished for doing something wrong.

When I think of it now, it was probably the best experience I could have to understand what Israel and the Occupied Territories are about and to adapt to the new environment and to the new situation. A one off experience that money can't buy.

To find a bright site of the whole: the stewardess who was serving us was really stunning and spoke at least three languages and my next sit neighbour, although he was eating a Kosher meal, was very kind. We had lots of laugh about my plight and he took me by a rented car to Jerusalem. And no secret service agent bothered me at all.

Have I learned a lesson from this story? Certainly yes: on my return flight I am going to enjoy my Muslim meal.