http://www.miftah.org/Display.cfm?DocId=21830&CategoryId=13| Date posted: March 03, 2010 By Hajr Al-Ali for MIFTAH | |
| I recently returned from a trek out to pre-1948 Palestine, formally recognized today as Israel. The journey was tolling. With no direct bus from Ramallah to Haifa, the journey time is doubled. You have to catch a bus from Ramallah to the Qalandiya checkpoint, from the Qalandiya checkpoint to Jerusalem, take a cab from the Old City to the central bus station, and then take the next bus to Haifa. Qalandiya was packed this time, and they had shut down most of the gates. Or rather, the bored Israeli soldiers sitting idly behind the bullet proof windows found amusement in making us all wait in the cold. It was an odd transition traveling from the West Bank into the “First World” of Israel. Everything about the area signals that it’s a completely different country – the developed roads and highways, the signs in Hebrew, the McDonald's. More than that, though, was the heightened sense of security present in the large numbers of Israeli soldiers roaming around, beginning with my entry through Haifa’s Carmel Central bus station. As I grabbed food from a station vendor, I stood inches away from a soldier with an M-16 draped across his chest. We stood, the pair of us, looking at the menu board. I, more aware of his presence then his of mine. It was surreal to be that close, and unsettling that it was so enigmatically normal. I happened to meet with some young Israelis at a café near where I was staying. Most of them were either currently serving in the Israeli military, or were ex-soldiers. This was a change of scene for me. Knowing them as those who harass me at the airport and checkpoints and help sustain a brutal occupation, I suddenly found myself shaking their hands and watching them chug a beer as I asked them what they did. I listened politely, as one of the young men told me that he wanted to be a messenger, a messiah of sorts. He was planning to go to the US to do “Birthright” work, recruiting young Jews to visit Israel and donate to the state. It was an alarming “Welcome to Israel,” and a devastating reminder that Israel and its occupation were not going anywhere, anytime soon. Despite these interactions, though, it’s the glorious northern coasts of '48 Palestine which I will remember most. I walked along the shores of Acre, tasting the sea’s gift of salt on my lips, and reveled in the freedom of the water hitting my bare feet. I roamed its old city, settling myself for a while on the docks, my feet dangling over the water’s edge, and watched as fishermen prepared their nets. I was undeniably ecstatic to see the water again, yet mortified by the gruesome history we were standing upon. I felt almost guilty being able to witness the landscape of the Palestinian narrative in its entirety, while most Palestinians themselves can not. I could not help but think of friends and their families who have been barred from exploring the vast beauty of their own land. “My God,” my friend turned to me and said, “They took the most beautiful parts… the most abundant with resources. They strategically sliced this place up.” In slicing Palestine up, Israel has cut Palestinians off. Surrounded by the boundless sea shores, I could not help but think of how Israel has appropriated the majority of Palestinians’ water-rich land and barred Palestinians from accessing it. According to a recent report by Amnesty International, “Israel uses more than 80 percent of the water from the Mountain Aquifer, the main source of underground water in Israel and the occupied Palestinian territories, while restricting Palestinian access to a mere 20 percent.” To make matters worse, while this happens to be the only water source for Palestinians in the West Bank, it is among several reserved for Israel, which also takes all the water obtainable through the Jordan River. Additionally, the report states that while Palestinians’ daily water consumption is below 70 liters per person, Israelis consume four times this, more than 300 liters. These discrepancies are far worse for Palestinians living in rural communities, who barely make it on 20 liters per day. In addition to being cut off from critical water supplies, though, Palestinians are also disconnected from their jobs, and employment opportunities in the Palestinian territories remain bleak. Walking around the streets of Haifa, alone, it’s clear to see the stark differences in the standard of living between Israelis and Palestinians living in the West Bank. It doesn’t surprise me that while the national earning average of Israelis is $21,000 per year, that of Palestinians in the West Bank is $1,200. In Gaza, it’s expectedly worse, as they make on average a dismal $600 per year. Israel’s deliberate policy of fragmentation has not only separated Palestinians from water or work, but it has systematically severed them from their greatest resource: each other. Gaza has been amputated from the West Bank, West Bankers are prevented from entering Jerusalem, and then there are the hundreds of thousands of Palestinians who are living in exile across the Middle East and the world. Let’s not forget the one million Arab citizens of Israel, who are among the approximately 156,000 Palestinians who managed to remain after 1948 when 800,000 others were forced into a life of refuge. Today, they comprise over 20 percent of the Israeli population, yet continue to be second-class citizens, the oppression of Israeli policies just as real for them as for those living in the West Bank and Gaza. In addition to being divided by concrete barriers, though, Palestinians have been divided by causes. While Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza are wrestling to develop a united national vision, Israeli-Palestinians are fighting to secure equal citizenship rights as non-Jews living in a Jewish state. This forced disunity is all part of Israel’s calculated attempt to obstruct the prospect of Palestinian independence and self-determination, making any Israeli statement about such a possibility laughable. The journey to ’48 Palestine – or Israel - was ironically more emotionally exhausting than anything I’ve witnessed in the West Bank thus far. On the bus ride home, I watched as the hills of Haifa passed behind me, and as the waves crashed angrily against its shores, cognizant of the drought and perpetual thirst Israel’s borders have created amongst Palestinians. Thinking of the fortitude of the friends and families back in the West Bank I so admire, I found comfort in the thought that although Israel’s occupation would not be giving up anytime soon, neither would the Palestinian people. As the hip hop group, DAM, raps, “You will not sever me from my roots/ (Palestine) Like a bird that breaks out of the cage/ Will spread her wings and fly.” Hajr Al-Ali is a Writer for the Media and Information Department at the Palestinian Initiative for the Promotion of Global Dialogue and Democracy (MIFTAH). She can be contacted at mid@miftah.org. | |
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