I've been doing a lot of thinking recently. Maybe more thinking than actually 'doing'
I finished my official business here, and I've been waiting for more projects, cues, and calls to action.
and I have waited for what seemed like forever.
Most of this thinking and waiting happened in an apartment, in Ramallah, overlooking a valley littered with minarets and cacti. A lot of the thinking was provoked by turkish coffee, and very little wine.
I didn't want to go out during certain times of the day - I was tired of being harassed on the streets by hoards of men and even the thought of it was enough to send me either to the gym or Jerusalem.
Which in some ways I think speaks a lot about life here for lots of Palestinians.
They are trapped. They are waiting. We don't really know for what. We have an idea of what they/we want, but who knows how its delivered or achieved.
So I got a bit depressed and began going to Jerusalem and Tel Aviv more often (ie. every 2nd day).
I just couldn't stand being alone in my apartment, knowing the loud throngs of people were outside and likely to yell and stare at me as soon as I stepped foot on the main street. I donned my headphones and walked hastily to the bus station, eyes on the prize.
I crossed the checkpoints many times, as if I was holding my breath, almost gasping for fresh air.
And I got it.
and it was great.
and then I had to go back.
I hate saying that Ramallah is an unlivable place.
It is not.
It is a perfectly fine place if you have a car, close family and friends, and meaningful work.
I don't have all of those things.
which makes it less than ideal to live here sometimes.
That said- I heard some interesting things today.
I had the pleasure of conducting a focus group about my research today in a camp near my house where I have been working a lot during my stay.
15 women showed up and we talked about what it was like to live in a camp and the challenges of building community.
Most of the women (especially the younger ones) were born in the camp.
To me, and it seemed to them, the camp was like any other village.
Except for basic things, like sanitation services, public schools, employment opportunities or access to agricultural land.
As our conversations became more candid, I just asked them "how can I explain to people back home how you live under occupation? what would you say to them?"
"Its our everyday. Its normal. If you are strong, and you have a purpose, you can live through anything."
Later on at a bbq with co-workers, I heard similar thoughts to the same question.
"We are used to it. I've gone to Jordan and Turkey, but after a week, I want to come back here. Even if there are many many problems, we know it and we love it. We have accommodated ourselves to it."
And it was true. Sitting out in this beautiful valley, smoking shisha and watching the stars, life was good.
I suppose in the end its not really where you live, but with whom and how you live.
I have realized a lot of things about myself in these past 3 months. And I've seen a lot of things I probably would have rather not seen. But that's life.
and who am I to say someone else is unhappy under circumstances that I couldn't handle?
Occupation is horrible, petty, dehumanizing and inhumane.
I am not for a minute saying that it is simple or understandable how people can be 'happy' under such conditions.
but its not impossible.
and people are pretty dynamic, resilient creatures.
Rilke wrote that "the world is still full of roles which we play as long as we make sure, that, like it or not, Death plays, too, although he does not please us."
There are many roles and many lives we live, and I think we all do "play Life rapturously, not thinking of any applause" from time to time, in our own special ways.
I finished my official business here, and I've been waiting for more projects, cues, and calls to action.
and I have waited for what seemed like forever.
Most of this thinking and waiting happened in an apartment, in Ramallah, overlooking a valley littered with minarets and cacti. A lot of the thinking was provoked by turkish coffee, and very little wine.
I didn't want to go out during certain times of the day - I was tired of being harassed on the streets by hoards of men and even the thought of it was enough to send me either to the gym or Jerusalem.
Which in some ways I think speaks a lot about life here for lots of Palestinians.
They are trapped. They are waiting. We don't really know for what. We have an idea of what they/we want, but who knows how its delivered or achieved.
So I got a bit depressed and began going to Jerusalem and Tel Aviv more often (ie. every 2nd day).
I just couldn't stand being alone in my apartment, knowing the loud throngs of people were outside and likely to yell and stare at me as soon as I stepped foot on the main street. I donned my headphones and walked hastily to the bus station, eyes on the prize.
I crossed the checkpoints many times, as if I was holding my breath, almost gasping for fresh air.
And I got it.
and it was great.
and then I had to go back.
I hate saying that Ramallah is an unlivable place.
It is not.
It is a perfectly fine place if you have a car, close family and friends, and meaningful work.
I don't have all of those things.
which makes it less than ideal to live here sometimes.
That said- I heard some interesting things today.
I had the pleasure of conducting a focus group about my research today in a camp near my house where I have been working a lot during my stay.
15 women showed up and we talked about what it was like to live in a camp and the challenges of building community.
Most of the women (especially the younger ones) were born in the camp.
To me, and it seemed to them, the camp was like any other village.
Except for basic things, like sanitation services, public schools, employment opportunities or access to agricultural land.
As our conversations became more candid, I just asked them "how can I explain to people back home how you live under occupation? what would you say to them?"
"Its our everyday. Its normal. If you are strong, and you have a purpose, you can live through anything."
Later on at a bbq with co-workers, I heard similar thoughts to the same question.
"We are used to it. I've gone to Jordan and Turkey, but after a week, I want to come back here. Even if there are many many problems, we know it and we love it. We have accommodated ourselves to it."
And it was true. Sitting out in this beautiful valley, smoking shisha and watching the stars, life was good.
I suppose in the end its not really where you live, but with whom and how you live.
I have realized a lot of things about myself in these past 3 months. And I've seen a lot of things I probably would have rather not seen. But that's life.
and who am I to say someone else is unhappy under circumstances that I couldn't handle?
Occupation is horrible, petty, dehumanizing and inhumane.
I am not for a minute saying that it is simple or understandable how people can be 'happy' under such conditions.
but its not impossible.
and people are pretty dynamic, resilient creatures.
Rilke wrote that "the world is still full of roles which we play as long as we make sure, that, like it or not, Death plays, too, although he does not please us."
There are many roles and many lives we live, and I think we all do "play Life rapturously, not thinking of any applause" from time to time, in our own special ways.