Health and Peace Promotion

Hello dear friends,

I am in Egypt.
It is a lovely place.
Some similarities to the West Bank (similar language, crazy driving, desert vistas) but also lots of differences (no checkpoints, freedom of mobility, somewhat certainty that you will arrive where you said you would arrive, trees, no fear of IDF).

I am here on vacation for a week. As soon as I left Ramallah, and started the journey towards Amman, and then Cairo, I was struck by an odd sensation.
I felt free. like I had taken off a heavy wool jacket or removed uncomfortable shoes.
It seemed I could run forever and not have to look left and right, worry about encountering a wall, or worse.
It hit me again that truly the West Bank has become a prison.
a large psychological, and physical holding cell.
and for most people living there, a permanent daily reality.

I have the luxury of leaving.
But I don't want to dampen the mood so much right now.

In the fall, I will find myself again in Toronto, working (and completing!) my Masters in Public Health at the University of Toronto.
One of the best parts of my first year was my introduction to Interchange, which is an international organization of peacebuilders, based at OISE, University of Toronto.

For a long time, I have seen the similarities between health promotion and peace promotion.
I have always believed health is a vehicle to peace. My experiences in Palestine so far have both re-affirmed and further confused my feelings on this, but nonetheless I think it is important to make these linkages and build better programs and policies that recognize the interconnectedness of people's health to their community participation and functioning.

So, I've been writing for the Interchange blog and interviewing organizations around the West Bank that I feel exemplify how we can bridge the two sectors.
Here is the link to the blog: http://interchange4peace.org/?page_id=2185
I hope to be putting up my interview with Physicians for Human Rights, an Israeli medical organization that works for non-status and Palestinian refugees, within and outside the 1967 borders.

Let me know what you think!

how can it possibly not...

cause significant anxiety, depression, and other psychological disorders.
"It" being the environment of occupation.

I set out to do an interview in Jaffa (next door to Tel Aviv) on Monday, for a peacebuilding organization I am involved with called Interchange.

In a series of blog posts and invitations to other practitioners to share their stories, I am trying to make a forum that describes the overlapping work of peacebuilding and health promotion. As someone who has experience in international development and community peacebuilding, and is currently working towards a Masters of Public Health, the topic interests me greatly and allows me to give more shape and  weight to how I view good public health work. ie. raising health literacy, improving access to resources, encouraging involvement in community groups and bringing people from different sectors and walks of life together to see the social determinants of health, and how they can best provide them.

so. without going into further detail (that is what the other blog is all about!), I am interviewing organizations that I feel embody this marriage between health and peace promotion.

Yesterday, I had the privilege of meeting with Physicians for Human Rights, which is an Israeli NGO that works toward making the right to health a reality for all people living in this region. They have an open clinic in Jaffa which serves about 40 people a day, as well as mobile clinics that go into the West Bank on a weekly basis and provide health services to refugees, stateless people, and anyone else who lacks access to primary health services.

The reason I tell you this is because of my mental state once I finally arrived at their office.

I left my house in Ramallah at 1pm, to begin the journey which I knew could last 3 hours typically, even through Tel Aviv is less than 50 km away.

I got on the first bus, got out at the Kalandia check-point, waited... waited... waited for probably 30 minutes, walked through and got on another bus to Damascus Gate (or the "Arab bus station" in Jerusalem). For this portion of the journey, everyone around me is speaking Arabic, people look like they may be going to university or coming home from work. Its calm, but its sweltering. I can't imagine doing this everyday, just to attend class or go to work.

If you are foreign, or have a Jerusalem ID, you can then get on the public transit system that goes through West Jerusalem, and will take you to the Central Bus Station, where again, you must take another bus to Tel Aviv.
The duration for all of this (up to the Central Bus station) is about 2 hours. and remember one can see Ramallah from Jerusalem easily. they are close neighbors, that have become very far apart because of the apartheid wall.

I digress.

So now its 3:45. I've got my ticket to Tel Aviv. I think "no worries, shouldn't take more than an hour max" My appointment was at 5pm in Jaffa. Tons of time.
No. it was not tons of time. We took a different route, some national holiday, major traffic. I arrive in Jaffa, after another two buses, at 7pm.
I felt so helpless and inept. I couldn't call the organization I was going to meet because Palestinian phone companies have no coverage in Israel, even though cities are minutes apart. I couldn't really complain either, because I don't speak Hebrew, and few people I met in the Israeli transit system spoke English.

So in short, I came away feeling incredibly anxious, irritated and worn down. Why did that need to take sooo long?
This brings me back to my opening remark. How can this system - one of perpetual checkpoints, segregated transportation companies, and monopoly of force - not lead to depression, anxiety, chronic fatigue and a whole host of other psychological problems.

After that experience yesterday, this morning I visited Palestine's only psychiatric hospital.
It has been around since 1922, and currently serves 150 patients, 90 of which are chronic in-patients.
The building was beautiful. Old early 20th century architecture, typical of the British presence here at the turn of the century. I asked about the most common illnesses they treat. "Schizophrenia, bi-polar disorder... in some cases heavy depression."

What is the incidence of schizophrenia here in the population? "about 1%, normal, global average"

What about depression? "Way more. probably 3 or 4 times more. Its different now too. During the 1st Intifada, Israel didn't close all the borders. there was fighting, but you were still to walk around. That changed in the 2nd Intifada. They closed all the borders. Now we live in a cage. At the hospital, and mostly at our community clinics, we see so much more anxiety and depression and PTSD now, because of the Wall.

There is was again.
The physical embodiment of people's daily struggles and small tortures in this environment. The occupation penetrates one's psyche. Even if you have freedom within a jail, you are still in a jail.

I see lots of UNRWA and other NGO agencies working in psychosocial counselling and trauma therapy, but today I learned that the Palestinian Authority Mental Health Community Centres rarely have group therapists, rehabilitation services, or family therapists.
"It simply doesn't exist here. Its not taught in schools. Even if you want to become a group therapist, you cannot in Palestine right now"

I do not understand how the World Health Organization, or numerous other health monitoring bodies has not been more incriminatory against the wall. Against all that is stands for, and all that it will effect in the future health of Palestinians. They recently published an atlas on the availability, governance, financing and structure of mental heath services internationally. Palestine, or the West Bank and Gaza Strip, were not included in this Atlas. I find this hard to take.

If you have thoughts on why, please let me know.

Two stories

This Friday I went to Cremizan and Welji, two small villages outside of Bethlehem.

I took part in a hike with 30 other Palestinians and internationals.

The group organizing takes people to hike on land that is under threat of occupation by the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF). Residents regularly receive demolition orders and threats. Most of the land we were walking through is in Area C, which falls under direct Israeli control within the West Bank.

I still get confused about the Areas A, B, and C. Area A is supposedly full Palestinian Control, B mixed ownership, and C under the supervision of Israel. “Your house can be in Area A, and your front step in Area C. Its soo arbitrary” says my friend. I don’t feel so bad about my inability to get them straight.

So we walked and walked, throughout an 19^th century winery owned by the Vatican, and by the world’s oldest olive tree (estimates range from 2000-5000yrs). It was dry, thorny, penetrating and punishing heat. The group was boisterous and would regularly break out into song. Songs from the 1^st intifada, songs from Egypt.

We went to see a house that has been the subject of years of threats and negotiation.

The owner has received multiple offers from the Israeli government for his land: compensation with money, other land inside the West Bank, anything he wanted essentially in return for leaving his house.

I saw his house.

We heard his story outside it, for 30 minutes in the 40 degree heat.

I thought to myself ‘why all the fuss?’ It was a small place, pretty, but hardly qualification for high level Israeli government officials to hem and haw over. But then he told us about the entire annexation plan the Israelis have for the winery, his house, and the village on the mountain.

They want it all.

They have already destroyed an entire mountain with explosives, to make way for more settlements and services for their residents.

The Israeli government wants the mountain because it wants the view.

It wants the mountain because it wants to control the entire area.

I should mention that all of this is taking place approximately 10 min by car from the centre of Bethlehem. The Nativity church, the Shepherd’s field, the entire Christian historical pilgrimage.

The land is under threat

Which one can think about and sort of make sense of. It’s a geopolitical and tourist tactic. I get it.

But what I didn’t get was what happened next.

We were walking down the other side of the mountain towards a field to have a bbq, and all of a sudden 7 IDF come up and wave us away.

Why?

Because right down below, in a public spring (in Area B), there were a group of Israeli settlers enjoying the water.

No problem I thought. We aren’t going anywhere near them.

It apparently was a huge problem. Our group, was told to walk further into the bush, and forbade from getting within 100 yards of the settler group.

Hmm. Alright

So we went and waited. We bbq’d. We talked. We waited.

For 3 hours.

While the Israelis enjoyed the spring and we sat in the blaring sun.

At about 6pm, we started to walk back down. Thinking it was Shabbat (it was Friday, and most observant Jewish families mark the Sabbath with a meal at sundown). It should have been time for them to go.

One Swiss woman in our group walked toward a smaller spring to get some water. No problem. IDF did nothing. One Palestinian man followed just behind her to do the same, and he was greeted with angry shouts and shoving.

I couldn’t really believe my eyes.

Such overt and blatant racism.

Is getting water on your own land a crime, especially after you have been made to endure 4 hours of needless waiting in the mid-day sun?

I guess so.

I again am plagued and confused by this apartheid state. But more than anything, the settlers, or colonists as some call them, confuse me.

Who can stand back and watch police forces actively segregate and restrict the movement of people who are simply having a picnic?

I am blessed to have grown up in a time and place where racial segregation was not tolerated officially, and while there may have been minority ghettoes in Vancouver in the 1990s, there were never cases of the RCMP actively telling one group of people to leave the premises while another group preferentially enjoyed the services.

I added some photos of two things I’ve seen here in the past two days.

The second is described above.

The first is the Festival of Lights in the Old City in Jerusalem. A beautiful night of performance art and light exhibitions throughout the ancient streets. Jews, Arabs, Christians and seemingly everyone else in the city was there walking around and admiring the quiet beauty.

It was such a perfect example of what can happen here. There can be cooperation and mutual understanding. It does happen. I hope to tell you about more of it soon.

this all happened with the same 20km

how to not h*te

I just got back from a weekend spent in Hebron, or in arabic El Khalil.
My roommate in Ramallah is from Khalil, and she invited me to see her town.

Hebron was the only city in Palestine I couldn't get Canadian insurance coverage to go to.
well. and the Gaza Strip.

I had heard a lot of friends tell me about the direct confrontation and violence that happens there between Palestinian and Israeli settlers. Throughout the Second Intifada here (2004-2006 approx), this area was heavily affected, with hundreds dying in the old streets and day-to-day life disrupted for years as the fighting went on. There are bullet holes in buildings throughout the city. Local men, about my age, will laugh and point to them when tourists walk through. I was thinking 'you were 14 or 15 during all this and now its a tourist sight' How does that make me feel?

I had also heard a great deal about the richness of the area. My roommate lives in a town close by called Tarqumiyah. It has human history going back 4000 years. It is surrounded by olive groves on all sides, likely planted by any number of past residents: Canaanites, Crusaders, Ottomans, British, Jordanians, Israelis or Palestinians. I was struck by how fertile the place was.
I saw gardens with mangos, apples, apricots, figs, hazelnuts, pomegranates, cherries, oranges, limes and pears.

Hebron is a holy city.
It is home to the Abraham Mosque.
It is here that Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Sarah and Rebecca (the Patriarchs and Matriarchs of the Jewish people) are said to be buried.
It is also considered the fourth holiest site in Islam, as Abraham and Isaac are also Muslim prophets, and Islamic tradition holds that Mohammad visited the site on his night journey from Mecca to Jerusalem.

So.

Needless to say, it is central to both faith systems and an important part of both groups of believers' spiritual lives. It is believed to date to 1500 BC, and after much violence and discrimination towards both Palestinians and Israelis, is now separated into two sections: Muslim and Jewish.

One is shocked, therefore, when you walk through the Old City towards to the Mosque and see heavy fencing and barrier walls dividing the Old City from an Israeli settlement.
I walked by and overhead were young Israeli children, watching out at me from behind barbed wire.
As I walked further in, I realized the streets were covered with a wire mesh overhead.

Why is that? it is to prevent the Palestinians who walk through heading to the Mosque, or simply moving throughout to their homes or shops, from being hit by objects thrown by the neighboring Israeli settlers. I am cautious as I write this that it could sound hateful.

I felt hatred.

I felt indignant and profoundly jarred. Why are children raised to believe it is alright to throw bags of vomit and feces at their neighbours? How do you reconcile daily armed militia taking American settlers through the streets, telling them in English that all the land they are walking on is Israeli, and the Palestinians are dirty thiefs?

I know that Jewish people have historically been horribly wronged in this very city. They were not allowed to enter to pray or organize in the area. One has to think about vengeance and question its long-term outcomes. The more I travel around this part of the world, the more I am completely convinced about the apartheid state that Israel actively promotes.

Separate roads, requirements to hold documents at all times, obligations to apply for travel permits, removal from strategic natural resource-related lands.
You see it everyday here.

What I saw this weekend was perhaps just more blatant. or no, it was more cruel.
Humiliating.

In my research, I am continually inspired.
Tomorrow I will return to a camp outside of Bethlehem, to sit with women and learn to make bread.
It is a local women's centre that has started a hair salon and bakery in the refugee camp.
I am sure I will see empowering and dignifying things going on.

I hope I see lots more of them.