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".