Wednesday, July 3, 2019

Just Arrived and Already...

I arrived in East Jerusalem yesterday, about noon, tired but pleased to get through the airport without difficulty.  As I lugged my too-heavy suitcase and carry-on into the Old City, I noticed the changes since I was here in the Fall of 2017.  At the top of the stairs leading to the Damascus Gate entrance to the Old City was a new structure, an army guard post staffed with Israeli soldiers.

 The plaza below, which I remember as bursting with activity of vendors and people, was empty.  Nevertheless, there were more soldiers posted there, and more just inside the Gate. This Gate leads to the Muslim Quarter  and the many Palestinian shops that give the Old City its flavor. It used to be fairly free of Israeli intrusions. Now, along with the soldiers, there are many Zionist Jews choosing this entrance in order to get to the Western Wall, or to their settler apartments scattered throughout the Old City.

My next observation, was the shock of seeing a large Israeli flag covering the wall space allotted to a new juice stand along the Palestinian market street leading to my hostel.   It is catering to the greatly increased traffic of Jews coming into the Old City from Damascus Gate, thus laying claim to "their" city. Israel invaded and annexed East Jerusalem in 1967, and has since treated it as its territory, in spite of condemnation by the rest of the world. Then Mr. Trump moved the American Embassy to Jerusalem to support Israel's annexation and to destroy Palestinian ownership of half of the city.

When I reached the entrance to my hostel,  which is on the corner where the Via Dolorosa bisects the market street,  I saw that there is now a permanent army post right across the street from it.  (Sigh, more soldiers.)  Later, on my way back to the hostel after doing my initial errands like changing money and activating my local cell phone, the way was blocked by a phalanx of soldiers stopping all Palestinian pedestrian traffic while allowing Jews to pass by.  For a moment I thought of trying to pass as well, which I am quite sure would have been allowed.  But I quickly realized this would be using my White (non-Arab) Privilege to go where Palestinian (Arabs) could not go. Instead I took a picture of this demonstration of Apartheid at work.

This morning, leaving my hostel, I stopped to buy a bracelet with the colors of the Palestinian flag, like I wear at home but could not wear going through the Israeli airport.  No sooner I made the purchase, than a young woman in a hijab, also buying souvenirs,  greeted me in American English:  "Where are you from?" she asked.  I answered, "U.S." ( remembering not to say "America" as if the U.S. was all of America). She smiled and said she was from Kentucky, (!) and staying with her Palestinian aunt who lives in Ramallah. Her aunt was standing right there, and joined in our conversation.  The aunt had not been to Jerusalem for seven years because Israel requires a permit for West Bankers to enter their own city of Jerusalem.  However, she had managed to get the permit this time to accompany her niece on her first visit to Palestine. The aunt told me what I already knew, "It is easier for you to come to Jerusalem than for me."

I have been here less than 24 hours, and already apartheid Israel raises its ugly head. But by contrast, the Palestinian owners of the wonderful Educational Bookshop in occupied East Jerusalem spent 2 hours helping me with a technological snafu that wouldn't allow me to access a list with all my Palestine contacts. I would have been lost without it, so I almost panicked, but the help of strangers (plus the Skyping help of my U.S.-based computer guru) got around Google's protective reach.  I am grateful to be here, learning from the Palestinians how to dodge the restrictions placed on daily life.


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