It's Getting Hot

Police sitting in the shade of their umbrella overlooking Isawiyya.  

April 28, 2015

Yesterday, an 18 year old was shot in the stomach by the IDF in Jenin. He died this morning due to complications. He is the third Palestinian to be killed by Israeli forces in recent days; a 17 year old was killed in East Jerusalem on Saturday for allegedly running at Israeli police "wielding a knife," at a checkpoint, and another Palestinian man was shot dead in Hebron on Sunday after he tried stabbing an Israeli soldier.

A-Tur, a Palestinian neighborhood of East Jerusalem, and the home of the 17 year old who was killed at the checkpoint, was put under curfew. There have been sporadic clashes there since the shooting on Saturday, his funeral was last night.  

Last night 2 more people were arrested in Isawiyya, the Palestinian neighborhood of East Jerusalem that sits opposite my classrooms at university. The entire place was barricaded with concrete blocks. This morning as I walked to class I noticed the police had not only roped off the area at the top of the hill, but they had propped up an umbrella to sit under to stay cool.

Temperatures are also hitting a crazy and sudden high—we went from pleasant spring directly into summer with no easing into it. Tomorrow is supposed to be over 90 degrees (30C)—a hamsin, desert heat storm, is landing on our doorstep.

I can’t help but remember a conversation I had with my roommate. It was November, and it was raining in Jerusalem. It was the first rain of the season; the streets were flooding and it was torrential downpour for days. I had never seen that much constant rain before.

October and November had been particularly tense times in Jerusalem. There were almost daily outbursts in the Old City over policies to limit access to al-Aqsa mosque. There were several intentional accidents where people were run over and killed by cars. There were reports of random stabbings at train stations and bus stops. There was a brutal attack on a synagogue. The city was rippling with tension.

My roommate and I were on our way to university and walking through the puddles, pretending as if the umbrella we had was actually preventing water from falling on our heads.

“I like it when it rains,” she remarked off-handedly. “The attacks stop.”

And stop they did—at least in our comfortable disillusionment in the Jewish side of Western Jerusalem. Things quieted down, people were lulled again into a false sense of calm.

Here comes the warm weather again, and clashes and protests against the occupation are rising to the surface again. I can’t help but think about a scientific study I heard of that showed the relationship between high temperatures and violence. Solomon Hsiang published a resounding study in 2013 that analyzed the relation between hot weather and conflict.  “For every standard deviation of change,” explains The Scientist magazine, “levels of interpersonal violence, such as domestic violence or rape, rise by some 4 percent, while the frequency of intergroup conflict, from riots to civil wars, rise by 14 percent.” The hotter it is, the more likely violence is. 

And here we are. In the middle of a hamsin. The beginning of summer breaking out. I can’t help but hold my breath.

There are two important demonstrations happening tomorrow, organized by the activists of Free Jerusalem including a protest against the collective punishment in A-Tur. They will meet at 8:30 at the entrance to Mt. Scopus Campus of Hebrew University. http://goo.gl/B7CgmV

And there is another march to show solidarity with Gaza youth against the siege, tomorrow at 7:30 p.m. in front of the Prime Minister's house. http://goo.gl/eVJPLs

 Things are heating up here.

*See: Hsiang, Solomon M., Marshall Burke, and Edward, Miguel. 2013. "Quantifying the Influence of Climate on Human Conflict." Science, 10.1126/science.1235367.  

http://www.the-scientist.com/?articles.view/articleNo/36822/title/Climate-Change-and-Violence/

Pains of Exodus

Manel Tamimi, January 2015

April 3, 2015

I met Manel Tamimi while traveling through the West Bank in January. She welcomed us into her home in Nabi Saleh and spoke with us about the horrors her family faces under occupation.

Nabi Saleh is a well known friction point for resistance and holds weekly protests every Friday. The village organizes itself and attempts to walk from their homes across the valley to the spring that used to belong to them. The spring is now a part of the settlement which was built above it. There’s a brilliant profile in the New York Times that describes the Tamimi family and the village.

Manel told us that she classifies herself as a non-violent resistor, but could not call herself peaceful. She said,”I can’t be peaceful in that moment when an Israeli soldier enters my house to arrest my 14 year old son. When I’m watching 2 of my cousins dying in front of me. When my 8 year old faints after being shot with tear gas and the soldier is smiling. Yet, I am nonviolent because a mothers pain is the same pain. I refuse any mother to experience this pain because I’ve experienced it. I understand the meaning of losing your beloved and waiting for your beloved.”

Manel was shot by an Israeli soldier in the leg today with live ammo during the weekly protest.

I heard about this as I am heading to my family’s kibbutz in the south to celebrate Passover—a holiday that marks the freedom of the Jews from slavery in Egypt and their arrival to the land of milk and honey. It is my family’s tradition to have long conversations that are interrupted by food and singing all night long. We often discuss the idea of freedom and I have grown up repeating every year that we are not free until all peoples are free. This sentence has never rung more true for me than in this moment. While we were talking with Manel, she said “Even if one day we free Palestine, I am going to fight for others. Because if you are a human you are going to fight against the pain of others.”

There is weird parallelism in being here in Israel, on my way to the Kibbutz which was founded in 1953, to be surrounded by cousins and tradition, and to know at the same time that across the wall, not so far away, people are hurting because of this claim to this land.

New Life

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November 23, 2014

My cousin had a new baby boy two days ago, and the whole family met for the weekend at the kibbutz in the South. After all the deaths and violence in Jerusalem this week, it is something incredible to greet this new life. He doesn't yet know that he will grow up inheriting years of heavy history built on the whispers of the Holocaust shaped by the dates of military memorials. He doesn't know that he'll serve in an army. He doesn't know about borders or green lines or ceasefires. He doesn't know about refugees and occupation and oppression. He doesn't know about hatred or fear. He's just this new little thing. Ten fingers and ten toes. I counted. His purity brings me hope.

Bus Roulette

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November 6, 2014 

Riding the buses has become a bit of Russian roulette lately. Coming home yesterday from the university, which is located right on the border with East Jerusalem, I had to make a choice. Do I take the 19 which goes right by the Old City and will probably be delayed or re-routed due to the current clashes that have erupted over the occupation and access to al-Aqsa mosque? Or do I take the 34, the slowest bus that winds and curves it’s way through the ultra-orthodox religious Jewish neighborhood where everyone is black-hatted and walks in front of buses without looking knowing that their life is in God’s hands? I made the right choice, as the road for the 19 was completely closed with police standing guard. As I stared out the window at religious women pushing their strollers and gaggle of children across the street, I read online about the latest attack on the train stop. An Israeli died. He left behind his wife and 3 year old, he was also a Druze.

Things are taking a turn for madness (more than the usual dose of crazy you find here). But it’s more than just random violence, it’s rooted in a context of oppression and disenfranchisement. Just this week alone, 2 Palestinian houses were demolished in East Jerusalem, 188 Palestinians were arrested in the last 2 weeks, a 5 year old girl was run over by a settler in Hebron, and there was an announcement for an expansion of settlements and a building permit for 500 more houses in Ramat Shlomo. Limiting access to al-Aqsa has just been the match to the fire. No one seems too sure what direction it will take. Some say third intifada, some say it’ll simmer down.

But for now, I’ve begun to feel a different sort of pressure. Which bus do I take to get home?