An Ode to YouTubers

When I began my longish break from work last year I had no idea how I would be spending my time here in Tel Aviv. I did wallow in self-pity and thought if I could sleep all day, I would somehow get through the day. It was a struggle to find purpose beyond just dusting the house and doing the laundry. Even though I had the general idea that I wanted to spend my time learning new things, I had no will to begin. I also did not know where to begin until I began trawling YouTube for a direction and inspiration. I started with learning to crochet from videos on YouTube and went from a novice to making stuffed toys in a matter of two months! Around the same time I discovered some more YouTubers whom I now totally consider pals.

Amigurumi Minion

I do not remember when, but one day early this year I discovered Hank Green. Hank (Yeah, I am on first name basis with him now. Sshh! He does not know) is an Internetainerpreneur. He is the creator and host of multiple shows on YouTube that focus on science education. But that is not how I first found him, I happened upon his vlog channel vlogbrothers, where Hank and his brother talk about everything under the sun, from Goat birthing and 15 hours in Target to the 2016 US elections and the refugee crisis. They are committed to spreading awesomeness in the world. I was hooked to Hank and his 'in four minutes or less' take on life and everything else. I may be exaggerating, but Hank is like a friend and mentor to me. I have learnt so much from him and he has consistently been the person who articulates my innermost thoughts on every issue every time.

Once I discovered Hank, I was hurtling through SciShow and CrashCourse videos every day. I was taught many things in school, but learning was limited. There was so much to catch up on. It was an overload of information at first, but once I was up to speed with the Green brothers and their co-creators like Phil Plait (another favourite) I could revisit some old videos and improve my learning.

It is a bonus that Hank's brother happens to be John Green. Yes, John Green of Paper Towns and The Fault in Our Stars fame. John creates and hosts videos on World History, Politics, Culture and Literature on CrashCourse. John is cut from the same cloth as his brother when it comes to being a responsible human being but for his uber cool hair. I cannot tell you how much the Brothers inspire me. They both have chronic illnesses that could potentially interfere with their daily lives, holding them back from doing all the awesome things they do, but they have each found ways to deal with it. That is no measure of their awesomeness but it is just one of those things that makes you realise how small your problems are in comparison and that a break in one's career is hardly a pin prick.

Before Hank Green, I was (still am) an ardent follower of Derek Muller. Derek, the man behind Veritasium a channel that looks at teaching science using demonstrations and mostly interviews with public through which he tries to deconstruct scientific phenomena and dispel common misconceptions. In his PhD paper entitled Designing Effective Multimedia For Physics Education he describes how students who were taught using the lecture style found it effective but did not perform well in the test that followed whereas students who were subjected to a dialogue with a tutor where the tutor addresses several alternative conceptions found the method confusing but performed better that the first group of students. You must watch him in action to understand how the dialogue method works for the learner.

There are many other educational YouTubers I have learnt from in the past year -- Smarter Every Day, ViHart, MinutePhysics. When I was struggling with getting out of bed and doing something, each of these guys taught me something new everyday. I also picked up an entire hobby from YouTube creators - Crochet. Who would have thunk?

A scarf I made this year

Christmas Eve in Bethlehem

Christmas is the only festival I remember celebrating as a child. I remember a star going up on our front porch every year even if we never lit a single lamp for Deepavali. My Christian neighbours would create a cozy corner where they would set up the nativity scene. After school it was a ritual for me to visit their home to check the progress of the mustard seed sprouts that were spread out thickly around the crib a few days prior to Christmas day. If they had sprouted, it had to be Christmas.

Since then, I have pictured Bethlehem to be a quaint town that is always merry for Christmas. A town where every family recreates the manger scene for Christmas, lights up the home and joins the Christmas procession to the Church of the Nativity on the eve of Christmas. This year I visited Bethlehem to witness the merriment I had always imagined Christmas to be. 

A bus dropped me off around two kilometers from the Church of the Nativity. Ridding myself of persistent cabbies, I joined Christmas revelers donning Santa hats who were walking down to the church. I had pictured a sea of red hatted people making merry on the streets. Here, I was mistaken. I saw three groups of 4-5 people each. The number of Palestinian cops manning the street outnumbered the tourists/pilgrims. The street was decorated for Christmas but it looked like the town was downplaying the festival. Ornamentation was skeletal and posters and banners at frequent intervals called for a peaceful Christmas. 

The West Bank has been going through a phase of unrest since September and Bethlehem has been no exception. In the middle of the high season here in Bethlehem hotels are not even half full. Christmas fireworks were cancelled and only a few streets have been decorated for the festival. Pilgrims and tourists like me are scared to travel to the West Bank. I too was undecided about visiting Bethlehem until I woke up last morning and was on the bus to Jerusalem. Though my trip was without incident, unrest continued in towns and cities neighbouring Bethlehem. One of the cabbies in his appeal to me said, "This is Palestine, we don't have business like in Israel, come with me. This is the season for my business." He was right. It is only tourists like me who come on our own and not with pre-booked tours in big buses who are his potential customers.

Mosque of Omar at Manger Square

Christmas tree at Manger Square

 When I finally reached Manger Square, the public space adjoining the Church of the Nativity, I found the merriment I was looking for. A huge tree stood in the centre of the square, a live band was singing carols and Christmas revelers sipped on hot tea to keep themselves warm in the Bethlehem winter. The tight security around the square did moderate the Christmas spirit though.
All said and done, Christmas in Bethlehem is like no other. Only here will you listen to the solemn azaan ring in your ears as a band sets up to start singing Christmas carols. I could not have asked for a better Christmas eve this year. 

A Palestinian girl poses with a poster
seeking the freedom of a
Palestinian youth

While a big tree sparkled at the centre of the square, at the back of the square an uprooted olive tree joined the festivities albeit on a somber note. "This tree we decorate today has come all the way from Beit Jala after it has been uprooted by the occupation forces a few months ago, from its land in Beir Auneh to build the apartheid wall and expropriate Palestinian land for the interest of illegal settlements," read the note about the tree. The tree was decorated with barbed wire, tear gas canisters were nailed into it. This alternative resistance Christmas tree is set up by a group that identifies itself with the Committee of Popular Resistance in Palestine. The group began the tradition three years ago. 

If you have been to the West Bank you will know that conversations here can easily turn political. Everyone wants to tell you their story because they know you must be coming from Israel, the country that is eating into their land everyday and smothering their lives. The cabbie attributes traffic jams to the IDF check posts. "Israeli," he says as we slow down near a check post. That is all he needs to communicate to me and the rest is left unsaid. As we drive past Herodian, I notice the star of David fluttering above the entrance gate. "Israeli," the cabbie points to the flag. Indeed, it is the flag of Israel flying high in Palestine. Somehow an archaeological site inside the Palestinian Territories is part of the Israel Nature and Parks Authority. The shop keeper in a souvenir store while explaining the significance of a particular image makes sure he tells me that the Church where the particular image is from was torched by Israeli vandals in June 2015. 

Before I knew anything about Israel and Palestine, I associated just one thing to Bethlehem - the birth of Jesus. Then I learnt about the the conflict and there more I learnt the more curious I got. Now Bethlehem for me is a city with immense history but more importantly it is like any other West Bank city surviving the Occupation in hope for sustained peace. 

Graffiti on the Separation Wall around Bethlehem 

Soldier testimonies and why they are important

I was the last soldier in Gaza, or so I thought. 

When I joined the IDF I thought I was being trained to fight other soldiers from Syria or Egypt. Instead, I found myself stationed in a residential neighbourhood facing civilians not an army. I received one command there - shoot if you have to. Soon we were bulldozing our way into homes of innocent Palestinians and taking over their homes. In one home we entered was an old lady who could not even speak clearly. Once we were in her home, she had no freedom. She had to seek permission to use the toilet, in her own house. We did not know her name, so we just named her Fatima. We would take turns to guard her with our weapons, ready to shoot if needed. New Year was approaching, so we even joked, 'who will kiss Fatima'. Three days later the Red Crescent came to rescue her, until then, it was a problem to monitor her, help if needed and do our job. I was embarrassed. I had kept an old lady prisoner in her home after taking over her house. Between 2003 and 2006 I experienced many moments like this one. - An ex-IDF soldier stationed in Gaza 

Israeli Soldiers stationed in Hebron

This is the story of one Israeli soldier who broke his silence on what the Occupation really looks like. He is a member of the NGO, Breaking the Silence, which collects and publishes testimonials of soldiers to inform the Israeli public and the world at large about everyday life in the Occupied Territories. 

There are hundreds like this soldier who have shared their stories with Breaking the Silence for 11 years now. Despite these testimonials that document in no uncertain terms the abuse to which Palestinians are subjected, cases of destruction of property, looting and the general violation of human rights, the public in Israel is hardly aware of what the occupation means or looks like. In addition, the right-wing in Israel is now stifling the voice of the left, putting democracy to the test in this country. 

In November 2015 a lecture organised by Breaking the Silence in a Be'er Sheva pub had to be cancelled after BtS activists and the pub owner received threats from pro-occupation right-wing fanatics. Despite BtS complying with all the security requirements, the police issued a last minute restraining order preventing the NGO from going through with the lecture. One would have hoped for the police to offer protection to the NGO, instead the police submitted to the threats of violence issued by the right-wing activists. 

On a larger scale, a bill is being proposed by the justice minister to isolate left-wing NGOs that receive foreign funding. This special tag will enable the government to mark NGOs that receive a majority of their funding from foreign governments and international organisations and limit the funds these NGOs receive. It is probably worth mentioning now that a recent investigation by Haaretz found that a number of tax-exempt nonprofits handed out more than $220 million to Jewish communities in the West Bank in 2009-2013 alone. 

The reason NGOs like BtS are crucial to Israeli democracy is because they shed light on what the public here finds easy to ignore. There is a vast gap between what the average families know and the reality. And it has been easy to create this gap given that Israelis even use a different term to refer to West Bank. Israel refers to the Israeli Administrative region as Judea and Samaria and not West Bank. To those who advocate the use of the term Judea and Samaria, this usage gives them more claim (because it has a Biblical history) over the land as opposed to West Bank which according to them is an artificial construct. The different groups use different terms to refer to this area thereby painting their respective religious narratives.

"An average Israeli family does not discuss the Occupation, they may just know that something bad happens there, but not exactly what," an Israeli told me once. He said, "I did not know what Occupied Territory meant, what Palestine meant." It is the elephant in the room that no one wants to talk about.

Posts following my visit to Hebron with Breaking the Silence:
Hebron - Part 1
Hebron - Part 2

Breaking the Silence organises tours in Hebron and the South Hebron Hills. You can find the details here. The Hebron tour is on hold now because of the security situation in the city. 

Happy Hanukkah!

Tel Aviv's City Hall lights up for Hanukkah 2015

If you have grown up watching F.R.I.E.N.D.S you may believe that Hanukkah is the Jewish equivalent of Christmas. It is not. It is hardly Christmas, it is hardly a major Jewish festival. So there is no point trying to compare it with the most important Christian festival of all time.

I came to Israel with the same misconception that I am now trying to dispel. Last year I witnessed Hanukkah for the first time. It is a festival of lights, so Hanukkiahs (nine-branched candelabra for Hanukkah as opposed to the traditional seven-branched Menorah) are sold in grocery stores along with candles and Chabad representatives light massive Hanukkiahs at major social spaces in the city. That apart, you don't get an inkling that a festival is being celebrated by the country.

Being mostly passive participant of Jewish festivals I have come to superficially understand Jewish festivals. My learning is as follows:

The holy days follow a general set of principles:
1. Significance of the festival: Someone attacked/enslaved the Jews; the Jews fought and emerged victorious/escaped the horrors
2. Rules: More rigorous than shabbath. The general principle is to mourn the event that is being remembered and therefore many pleasures or luxuries must be given up. All that in addition to the absence of public transportation. Lord, have mercy!
For example -- for Passover or Pesach, wheat based food products are not to be consumed; on Yom Kippur even personal hygiene should be set aside as bathing is prohibited on this day
3. Feast: No matter what the misery the ancestors survived, a feast to commemorate the holy day is non-negotiable.

A Hanukkiah is lit up in a fruit juice stall on the third day of Hanukkah 2015

Considering the history of the religion and its followers, it is not a stretch to imagine that most Jewish festivals adhere to Principle 1. As does Hanukkah (Revolt of the Maccabees). Despite that, it is still a minor Jewish festival. I risk the chance of over simplifying but my simple reason is this: the buses are running, there are no major rules to follow, life goes on like any other day of the week. That says a lot about a Jewish holiday, to me.

Also, Hanukkah is not a Biblical festival. Its origins are not in The Book but in another book which is like an appendage to The Book. 

This may seem like a trivial detail but families get into major Biblical arguments over this stuff. I was once part of one very enlightening discussion between two cousins about the 'legitimacy' of Hanukkah. The general happy holidays greeting in Hebrew - Chag Sameah - apparently should not be used in the context of Hanukkah. Because the Biblically more knowledgeable cousin says that since Hanukkah is not a Biblical festival it can't be classified as a chag - festival of a Biblical nature. The liberal cousin argued that in modern society the status of chag has been diminished and so you can hear some people wishing each other chag sameah even for Hanukkah.

So, there you have it. Hanukkah is not anything like Christmas save for the proximity between the two festivals. Its origin story is quite mystical though, something about oil that was meant to last for one night ended up lasting for eight days. Therefore, lighting of one candle every day for eight days. Google will tell you all about that and the Maccabees (not the Israeli football team).

Sufganiyot! Attack!

Finally, Hanukkah involves food, but most unhealthy in nature. Oil, as you now know, is key to Hanukkah. What better way of honouring oil than by deep frying things in it and then stuffing your face with that? This brings us to sufganiyot or jelly filled doughnuts which are central to any Hanukkah celebration. Other fried delicacies include, potato latakes, pancake variations, etc.

Time now for me to go gorge on some sufganiyot. Doesn't sufganiyot just sound a million times better than doughnuts? I'll leave you with that thought. 

Intifada or not is the question

A wave of unrest, that's what the media has termed the recent spate of Palestinian violence. What began a month ago as a result of Israel banning two Muslim activist groups from the Temple Mount has grown into a series of random acts of violence that have stirred the country.

Temple Mount

The violence which was initially limited to the Temple Mount escalated over the weekend and spread across the West Bank, to Tel Aviv and the Gaza strip. Now the big question everyone is asking is: Is this the third Intifada?

While all Israeli media outlets have been careful and not branded it as an Intifada yet, the Hamas has already called for turning this new spate of clashes into the third Intifada. Whether this month-long wave of unrest will actually snowball further or be contained depends on how Israel responds. Prime Minister Netanyahu warned that terrorists and those inciting violence will not be spared and to that effect seven assailants who attacked Israeli Jews in separate incidents have been shot dead.

All of this reminds me of a friend's prophetic words: stay here long enough and you will witness a war. 

The new wave of unrest is not yet a war or an Intifada, but it is just enough to trigger fear. The randomness of it all and the 'lone-wolf' nature of the assailants begs one question: what must life be like across the border that even pelting stones or just wounding a person is enough justification to risk your life?

Living in the Tel Aviv bubble shields us here from whatever that happens in the rest of the country. That however is not the case now.
Tel Avivians being Tel Avivians can not be holed up inside their homes, so they are now busy arming themselves with pepper sprays and some are even looking up self-defense tips on YouTube. The Facebook posts from pepper spray retailers sound amusing at first, but when more than an 100 people respond in the first five minutes seeking to buy one, you pause and wonder if maybe you should cancel that random shopping plan. 

Hebron II : Settlers and their safety net

Qiriyat Arba can be easily mistaken for a Tel Aviv residential neighbourhood. The architecture of the buildings, the pale yellow Jerusalem-stone walls, shopping centres, and the design and layout of the local park mimic Israeli sensibility. Even the popular Israeli junk food brands are available here. Inside the settlement bubble everything feels the same as Israel, with the one big difference that martial law is applicable here, not civil law.

Qiriyat Arba was established in 1968 by Moshe Levinger and his family on an abandoned army base. Since then, Qiriyat Arba has flourished and reached a population of about 8,000 in 2012. The early settlers, like Levinger, wished to stimulate Jewish settlement in the ancient Biblical heartland of Hebron; to some they were religious zealots. According to an ex-IDF combat soldier, following the peace treaty with Egypt, the drive to settle grew. "Giving up land for peace was not an acceptable option to many."

Since then the demographics of Israeli settlers has changed by a few shades. Some now prefer to live in settlements as real estate is cheap in the settlements. Some settlers work in Jerusalem and some others have government jobs in H2 or nearby towns. "Most of them are not ultra-orthodox Jews. In fact, according to traditional Jews the Messiah will not come if a state is built. Settlers follow a brand of religious Zionism," says the 30-year-old ex-soldier.

Israeli settlers live in a safe bubble that has been created only to protect them

Because settlers live in a conflict zone, they find it very easy to get fire arm licenses. Sometimes these fire arms are issued to them by the army itself to protect the settlement! "Around 12 settlers per settlement get a weapon from the army. These chosen settlers even draw a monthly salary and have access to a military patrolling jeep."

Settlers walking down Al-Shuhada Street

"We are given strict orders to protect the settlers at any cost, even if it is the settler who is the perpetrator," says an ex-soldier. If a settler is seen to be posing a threat, a soldier cannot neutralise the threat by attacking the settler, he has to wait for an opportune moment and disarm the miscreant without resorting at any violent means. "And while we wait to disarm him, he has done enough damage." "I can't shoot at Israeli civilians even if they threaten me. I just can't do anything. We must take cover and wait."

The only time there is hope of some concrete action against the settler is if he is caught in time and red-handed

What else can the soldiers do in case of settler misbehaviour/violence, I ask. "First off, it is not an army problem. We inform our commanding officer, he informs his CO and eventually the police is informed." The police in the West Bank are toothless against the settlers. "They do not take any action because they find it awkward to take action on settlers." Why? "Because these police officers are mostly neighbours of settlers, they can't afford to sour relationships in the community. How can the officer face the settler child's father after arresting him?" Like it is all over the world, police officers in Hebron too do not take any adverse actions against settlers if they want to raise up in the ranks. Sometimes the settlers are able to intervene and protect their friends and children by listening in on the radio frequencies used by the army and police.

To pass confidential messages during the Gaza Disengagement we constantly changed the frequency to ensure that settlers can't listen in on our communications

The rules that apply to settlers are much milder than those that apply to the Palestinians in this land. For example: If two minors, one settler another Palestinian, are caught committing a small crime - the settler kid can be detained for a maximum of 12 hours before he is presented before a judge whereas the Palestinian kid could be detained for at least four days before he sees a military judge. This is a great visual aid to understand the disparity. "After serving in Gaza for a few months I stopped asking why a Palestinian was being detained when I saw one blindfolded."

Some people interpret NEVER AGAIN as : this should not happen to us ever again

"But that is not what it means. It should not happen to anyone ever again. Not that the Holocaust and Occupation are comparable." Between the buffer zones, the leniency towards settlers, repeated attempts to set up outposts, the settlers are making the best of the mess here. "They are doing very well. Settlers want unhindered access to the Cave of the Patriarchs and they relentlessly set up outposts and rebuild outposts which are demolished by the army."

Soldiers check passports and ID-cards of visitors at a check-post

There are 18 check-posts that let Palestinians cross over between H1 and H2. "How do check-posts stop Palestinians from shooting settlers? Though the separation wall and check-posts are set up by sighting the security angle, it is only to control people." A soldier narrates how his compatriots took charge of a school and set up grenade launchers in a classroom during the second Intifada.  "At some point all this crosses a line we draw for ourselves. It seems immoral. Whom are are protecting?"

I don't know the solution. But I know what I have done and I want Israel to stop it 

Army base in H2

True Story: A settler was hanging around inside an H2 military base on a Friday. As the day progressed and inched towards Shabbat, the settler instructed the soldiers to turn off the electricity supply to the main gate of the base. He did not want to break the rules of Shabbat when he went out to pray. The soldiers instead said that they could open the gates for him when he wanted to leave and that an army base can't keep its gates open. The settler disregarded the concerns of the soldiers and just cut the wires that supplied power to the main gates.
The soldiers could of course do nothing.

As I am writing this post, an 18-month old baby was burned to death by Israeli settlers in a town close to Nablus in the West Bank. The settlers dropped bombs inside the house after breaking the windows of the house, setting the house on fire. For details, go here. 

Hebron - A ghost town

Soldiers inspect ID cards of local Palestinians at the entrance to the Cave of the Patriarchs

Four Palestinian youth approach two armed guards stationed outside the Cave of the Patriarchs, they set their bags down, one seems to be carrying groceries, they queue up, reach for their ID cards and hold them out for inspection. The guards carefully scrutinise the cards and only then let them enter. A few feet away, at what looks like the main entrance to the holy site, tourist buses come to a halt, pilgrims and visitors disembark leisurely and head towards the main building and there are no visible guards who restrict entry for them.

There are no obvious lines here but you can feel the dense languor of imprisonment in the air. Palestinians can walk down the street to only up to a certain point, the path beyond that is off-limits to Palestinian pedestrians and vehicles. I had read about Hebron before visiting the city and yet, it is only when I saw Palestinians walk down a road and take a diversion while I continued to walk down that very street which was off-limits to them that I understood what apartheid meant.

Welcome to Hebron, a microcosm of the Israel-Palestine conflict.

Anatomy of a Ghost Town

I have used the phrase Ghost Town many times in life, all those times it has been only as an over-dramatisation. Mass abandonment of Hebron's city centre since the second Intifada has created a literal Ghost Town here. Strict implementation of a separation and discrimination policy between Israeli settlers and Palestinians has driven Palestinians out of their homes. The claim is that Israeli settlers need protection and the army follows them where they go. This results in heavy restrictions on the movement of Palestinian residents creating what the military calls 'sterile' zones or areas that are rid of Palestinians.

Al-Shuhada Street, once a vibrant market street

Al-Shuhada street was once a bustling market street in the Old City of Hebron. The monotony of the skeletal visage of this street is now interrupted only by Israeli settlers. We cross the army check-post after two armed guards inspect our passports. Houses abandoned by Palestinians stand amidst their crumbling ruins. One of the houses is still occupied, the soldiers call the family residing here 'the mute family', because the family doesn't speak to anyone. Why have they not left their home? Because they can't afford to relocate.

A shop shutter defaced by the star of David

The shop shutters here are defaced by graffiti. Maybe some obscenities that the foreign eye cannot spot, but more importantly an image that is just enough to irk the Palestinians and to send a message to everyone who walks past these shops : the six-pointed star of David. The blue star of David against faded green shutters is an image that reeks of a sense of entitlement and legitimacy that is a product of military occupation. The graffiti becomes more prominent and frequent on streets that are open to Palestinian pedestrians and vehicles.

Call for attention on Al-Shuhada Street

The eerie silence on the street is suddenly broken. I look up, on the other side of a caged window,two young children are bickering, they look at us. I am not sure if I should wave, but I look up and smile anyway. The mother soon removes the children from the window, the shrill screams of the children fade away and we are back to discussing the grim reality of Hebron. Windows and balconies here are heavily grilled to protect Palestinians from settler violence. On one such balcony is a small sign, it reads: CAUTION: This was taken by Israel. You are ____ apartheid.

Sign on a street. In the background is a settler building.

Al-Shuhada street is now a gallery of settler propaganda on the backdrop of the outcome of military occupation. A large sign installed on the road by what looks like the Hebron civic authorities reads: These stores were closed by the IDF for security reasons after the Arabs started the 'Oslo War' (aka The Second Intifada) in 2000, attacking, murdering and wounding Jews on this road. Another goes on to state that 'after the Hebron Agreement was signed, Jews were left with access to only three percent of Hebron and that large thriving commercial and shopping centres are off-limits to Jew and accessible only to Arabs'. To understand the accuracy of this estimate, it is important to recognise everything that comes with a settlement.

Settlements in Hebron

A settlement in the Old City, a part of H2. Cars with Israeli license plates parked on the street.
Israeli flags flutter above shops that are shut

While it is true that settlers homes may be occupying only three percent of Hebron, nearly 20 percent of the city is off-limits to the Palestinians. This 20 percent constitutes various legal, military and administrative rationale exacting limitations on the local residents. For example, around every settlement is a buffer zone that separates the settlers from their Arab neighbours. Settlements are also increasingly eating into Hebron by constantly creating new settlement 'outposts'. These outposts sometimes explicitly defy the Israeli Supreme Court's orders. As they incrementally solidify their presence over what is most often private Palestinian land, the Israeli Government gives in and 'legalises' settlements.

Map of Hebron with restrictions on movement. Source: B'Tselem

Given its significance, the main impetus to live in Hebron is religious, centered around the Cave of the Patriarchs. Settlement outposts here constantly attempt to create a mainline to the holy site. They are also driven by the same 'right of return' for which many Palestine refugees wish. Alluding to the 1929 Hebron massacre, following which homes of Jews were pillaged, settlers demand the right to return to Hebron. Despite the original owners of the abandoned Jewish homes showing no inclination to return, settlers have made it their agenda to take back these areas and houses.

The total population of four settlements in the Old City of Hebron (in H2) is around 800, to protect them the military has deployed more than 500 armed soldiers. About 30,000 Palestinians also live in H2 which is under direct Israeli rule. The Hebron civic authority responds to this disproportionate military presence on its website, it says :

Israeli security forces provide multiple services.
a) They offer protection to Hebron's residents against constant terror threats.
b) They offer protection to over half a million people who visit Hebron annually.
c) They offer protection to Israelis throughout Israel.

Hebron's story is defined by the social dynamic created by the heavy presence of military in an urban area which is slowing being chipped away by a strict separation policy and settler invasion. Beginning with this post and few more I hope to make a comprehensive note on my experience and learning from a visit to Hebron. 

Notes from a Palestine Refugee Camp

Balata Refugee Camp : 0.25 sqkm, 28,000 refugees and 65 years of temporary residency

When a refugee camp has been functioning for 65 years, it sheds its temporary appearance and dons a more long-term garb. And that is what makes the fate of the refugee camps in the Palestinian Territories a central point of contention to the Israel-Palestine conflict.

In Nablus, the Balata Refugee camp could be easily mistaken for a congested poverty-stricken neighbourhood. The transition between suburban Nablus and the camp is seamless and a non-local could walk around or cross the camp without once realising that one has passed by the largest refugee camp in the West Bank. When we got off at Jacob's Well (our first stop), we looked around hoping to find signs to Balata Camp as that was our next stop. A local then pointed to a cluster of buildings across the road, "That's Balata Camp." I have never been to a refugee camp earlier, but I surely did not expect it to be integrated into the suburbs of a city with such proximity to a site of Biblical importance.

A refugee at the Balata Camp

Many of the Balata Camp refugees are from Jaffa, a neighbourhood to the south of Tel Aviv. The passing of time has not diluted the desire of the refugees to the villages from where their ancestors either fled or were expelled. In fact, the right of return to their original town or village is at the core of the conflict here. Families still hold keys to their homes which are now either destroyed or are being used by other families, as a reminder of their lost homes. Some families get the chance to visit their villages. These pilgrimages come by rarely because refugees need permits to enter Israel and also because many refugees are too poor to take up such a journey. When families do get the chance, stories of the pilgrimages become the only window for many to their lost lost ancestral villages. "One family found their house in Jaffa and even paid a visit to the Jewish family living there. My family on the other hand could not even recognise our neighbourhood in Haifa. We still hold the keys but our house has been destroyed," A narrates.

These symbols are what keep the hope of return alive in them. Although first or second generation refugees still cling on to symbols of home and harbour the hope of return, children who have been brought up in the refugee camp have a kind of an identity crisis. While they mostly identify with Balata, their fondness for their village is no less. "We may be brought up in Balata or Nablus, but we should never forget the village to which we belong. Our ancestors tell us about their life back in their village just so we remember..." says A.

A child cleans the area in front of
his home

Refugees in the Balata Camp are in their fifth generation. According to the UNRWA "The descendants of Palestine refugee males, including legally adopted children, are also eligible for registration." This is a special status given to Palestine Refugees. This move of the UNRWA is well-contended and that is a debate currently beyond my scope. That said, there is no denying the humanitarian crisis of Balata's 28,000 refugees and more than 7.5 lakh registered UNRWA refugees.

According to UN data, in 2008 there were more than 1,700 houses with one or more upper floors housing the 23,000-odd refugees. One can only imagine what the living conditions of the refugees must be like. As families grow, more floors are added to the building to accommodate the family. This translates into claustrophobic alleyways which receive very less sunlight even during the day. "The homes at the lower levels receive very little sunlight and ventilation is a problem too," states A. As I walk through these narrow lanes with my backpack grazing against the walls, I am flooded with questions. How does one bring furniture in? How do the handicapped access their homes? What if some one needs to be taken to the hospital in an ambulance? We carry the people, A says very matter of fact-ly. The Balata Camp is a self-sufficient ecosystem replete with a comprehensive market streets that cuts through the camp offering some breathing space to the cramped layout.

The market or souk in the Balata Refugee Camp

Children across Nablus and Balata greet foreigners with "Hi! How do you?" It is as if they are testing you. When responded to, they are confident in replying, "I am good, thank you." Many even want their photos to be clicked and have a friendly disposition. One little guy with a sense of humour came up to us and said: My name is Hassan in Arabic and Hassan in English. A camera in hand, and a smile on your lips invites curious interactions with children here. Four UN schools cater to the children of Balata Camp. There are many who don't make it to school, and there begins the problem.

Balata Camp is a microcosm of the general problems refugees face here. High unemployment rates with a high youth population make the right brew for violent outbreaks. In 2007, 40.1 percent of Balata Camp's population was under 14 years of age. Families mostly turn children into bread-winners to fight poverty. Adults find it difficult to find jobs as the Israeli market is not accessible to them. Balata is a breeding ground for anti-social and violent youth who take up arms to make their voices heard. Posters of civilian fighters brandishing weapons are more frequent here than in the Old City of Nablus. Are they justified in their violence? Who must compromise more? Is a solution in sight? As a mere visitor I cannot comprehend what kind of a solution could be drawn up to put an end to the kind of human suffering I witnessed here. A step towards that is this little post. I urge you to read more, because I have just scraped the tip of the iceberg here. There is much to learn and much to do.   

Nablus: First impressions of Palestine

Last week I ventured into the West Bank or as I prefer to call it Palestine. It seems a unfair to refer to it as the West Bank when India and 135 other countries recognise Palestine as a state. Honestly, more than six months in this country has made me more sensitive to such nomenclature, the communities involved and their perspectives in general.

Seething with rage

Nablus is the third largest city in the Palestinian Territories after Gaza City and Hebron. It is located about 130km east of Tel Aviv and can be reached from Tel Aviv in about 90 minutes. I am not an authority on what route to take to get there, although an Arab cab driver from East Jerusalem is whom you should hire if you plan a trip to any of the Palestinian Territories. 

The drive to Nablus was event-less. I was expecting to be stopped at a check-post and asked for my passport and questioned on my purpose of visit etc, but that was not the case. Although you cross the Green Line without any inkling of having crossed one of the most disputed borders in the world, leaving Israeli territory and entering Palestinian territory is dramatic. When the Isareli roads do not let you feel the jolt, the Judean Hills loom over making you take notice of the transition. 

It was during the drive from Jerusalem to Masada/Dead Sea that I first saw The Wall and felt the sharp change in geography and demography. Clotheslines with white shirts and black pants disappeared and were replaced by barbed wire restricting Palestinians access to the 'Israeli' highway; residential buildings faded away and the dry and rocky Judean Hills took their place along the roads. The drive to Nablus was similar. Unless you stay awake and look out of the window, when you reach the shock will come to you as a punch in your gut. The scenery eases the transition. 

Nablus is one of the eight cities that is classified under Area A, meaning it is completly under Palestinian control, barring nearby settlements of course. The sights and sounds of Nablus' city centre reminded me of busy a Indian city or even East Jerusalem for that matter. Making me feel more at home in this Palestinian city were huge hoardings of Shah Rukh Khan, Aishwarya Rai and Emran Hashmi promoting cosmetics. The city centre is lined with shopping complexes, eateries, banks and everything else a modern city centre constitutes. Tall modern shopping complexes that dominate the city's skyline here are just a modern facade of the old city of Nablus itself.

SRK promoting fairness
cream in Palestine

Negotiating random traffic which comprised mules and Volkswagens alike, we entered a narrow covered market street. Everything about the market street reminded me of Jerusalem's old city. The arches, the colour of the walls, the meditative azaan, colourful and aromatic spices on display and even the carts that shopkeepers use to transport goods inside the old city. After a short walk through the old city's market we entered the maze of Nablus' old city.

Nablus City Centre                     Nablus Old City

The old city of Nablus is similar to that of Jerusalem in many ways and is radically different is an equal number of ways. The political graffiti calling for a united Palestine, posters of civilian fighters brandishing weapons and plaques on houses with photos of family members who were either martyrs or victims of Israeli military form the main narrative here. Locals point to particular windows and houses and retell how Israeli military holed up in those houses shot and killed innocent civilians. The old city was under siege by the Israeli military as part of Operation Defensive Shield in 2002. During this time strict curfew was imposed on the old city residents and the military entered many houses by boring holes in walls. The curfew lasted more than three months. A who was in his late teens during this period says, "We did not have enough supplies to last so many days. People who broke curfew to procure food and water were gunned down by snipers." From a roof top a local points to a vacant space that looks like a parking lot inside the old city, "There used to be a soap factory here. The military suspected that terrorists were hiding in there and brought the building down. It later turned out that just a small Palestinian family was living there."

Left: Call for Action; Right Top: Civilian fighter brandishing weapon
Right Bottom: Plaque for martyrs and victims

In its days of glory, Nablus was a business centre famous for its soaps made from olive oil. The city's economy sustained a huge blow with the Israeli occupation of Palestine. The number of soap factories has dwindled over the years and only two or three are still functional. If you are lucky to visit the city at the right time of the day, you could visit a soap factory inside the old city. 

If you peel away the layers of violence that the old city has sustained and witnessed as recently as the second Intifada (200-2005), you would be able to uncover the charm and majesty of this historical city. Standing on one of the roof tops, I see the old crumbling old city buildings against the backdrop of the modern houses built on the hills surrounding the city. Those who could afford to leave their houses in the old city for new houses have done so, turning the old city into a magnificent time capsule. 

New construction on the hills surrounding the Old City 

The market of Nablus' old city is one where I finally bought kajal as I was running out of my desi supply. The market here is most famous for the best kanafeh in all of Palestine. A nondescript hole in the wall bakery is one of the many bakeries here that make the most tasty Middle-Eastern dessert I have tasted so far. Two workers pass huge circular trays around spreading semolina and cheese, the key ingredients of kanafeh, on the trays. A third takes it to the kitchen to cook it  

Kanafeh from start to finish

and a fourth is busy crumbling big blocks of white Nablusi cheese into small pieces. With an indulgent slathering of sugar syrup, the rust-coloured gooey kanafeh is ready. A queue has formed in the meantime, the previous batch of customers are getting ready to leave and make space for the next batch. It took less than ten minutes for the rather large tray of kanafeh to be served to around 30 eager customers. The dessert is juicy, cheesy, and even has a little crunch to it because of the upper crust of semolina. A generous chunk of the dessert cost me just 4 shekels! I don't even get a bar of chocolate for 4 shekels in Tel Aviv! 

Jacob's Well

Entry to Nablus is forbidden for Israelis; if you own a non-Israeli passport there is no reason you should miss a short day trip to Nablus. It is easy to visit to Nablus, just hop on to a taxi from East Jerusalem near Damascus Gate. The city also has a couple of non-political spots of interest. Tel Balata is an archealogical site where excavators have found the remains a massive Cannaite city wall (1700 BC) and a temple. Jacob's Well is not far from Tell Balata. Go inside and take a sip of water from the well where Jesus is said to have had water offered by a Samaritan woman. The well is inside an Greek Orthodox Monastery. A lone priest is the sole keeper of this Biblical site.

South Tel Aviv and her migrant population

South Tel Aviv is as good as a day-trip for the bratty North Tel Aviv-ian that I am. Anything that is more than walking distance is a whole different planet and I try to club at least three errands and a lunch/dinner out if I am heading anywhere south of North Tel Aviv.

Central Bus Station

It is on those select days that I go to the Central Bus Station area that is not really a recommended touring spot in this city. A local will try to avoid the CBS for many reasons; its complicated design being one of them. The maze that the CBS is can only be navigated using an app. If the start-up nation did not have a start-up to create such an app, I would have been greatly disappointed. The other big concern is that one feels a tad unsafe in a place where drunk/wasted/homeless people wander about bumping into poles and people with equal probability. According O, my Hebrew coach, building the CBS inside the city was a bad idea in the first place because it is a social outcast-magnet.

The CBS is located in Tel Aviv's poorest neighbourhoods. Asylum seekers from troubled African countries like Sudan/South Sudan/Eritrea/Ethiopia reside in areas adjoining the CBS. Years of neglect of this neighbourhood has come to define its demographics. "Everyone thinks that south Tel Aviv is very unsafe. But it is not as unsafe as they think it is. Hopefully the image of south Tel Aviv and asylum seekers will improve," says N, a Sudanese community leader and human rights activist. Though I visit the CBS area to pick up Indian spices from Indian grocery stores that are located there; N guessed that I must be visiting the CBS for the very first time with him. It is a valid guess for one does not come here without purpose or a local guide. He was pleasantly surprised that I had visited south Tel Aviv or the grimy under belly of Tel Aviv multiple times.

The Tour

I was touring south Tel Aviv with MK, another Sudanese activist, on a balmy summer evening as part of the final Hebrew class. MK and N wanted to introduce the students to Sudanese community leaders, their problems and Sudanese food.

We met at the Levinsky Park, a haven for the homeless, where we waited for the group to assemble. We left the main street and made our way into the neighbourhood of Nave Sha'anan as the sun started setting on Tel Aviv. The air was thick with pungent aromas that spilled out of nearby African grocery stores. Small apparel stores displayed colourful Eritrean wedding gowns as men and women yapped away outside the stores. Spices and clothes indigenous to African countries are brought by Eritrean asylum seekers who can go visit their country and come back to Israel unharmed. On passports of Sundanese nationals it is clearly stated that Israel is an enemy nation and that their passports are valid for all countries with the exception of Israel. "Visiting Darfur is no more an option for the Sudanese asylum seekers," says MK. The shops are not always owned by the asylum seekers as they are not permitted to own shops. Only those with temporary residency permits can operate shops, and asylum seekers with these permits are very few. "Some friendly Israelis help us in setting up shops, but at a cost," shares MK. That said, a sizable fraction of small businesses are run illegally by African asylum seekers and these businesses are constantly at the risk of raids by municipal authorities. Taxes are levied upon those who employ illegal asylum seekers, thus reducing job opportunities for asylum seekers on the whole.

Everyone seemed to know each other in this part of the city. The community of asylum seekers is a strong network. As we walked down these lanes, MK was greeted by at least seven people who stopped to talk to him. The conversations lasted a few minutes each and ended with MK getting dinner invitations to his friends' homes. "If I am going out on urgent business, I take a different route to approach the main street. It takes me five minutes to walk down this road when I do not meet anyone, if I do, then I spend at least 45 minutes chatting with people," he says wiping sweat off his forehead. Tel Aviv is a furnace these days, it is 7pm and our tour is officially yet to begin.

As we wait for more students to join, MK takes us to a local Eritrean cafe. The concept of African cafes came as a complete surprise to me. They are mostly huge rooms (like an auditorium without a stage) with rows of chairs facing one wall. This wall has at least three TVs mounted on it and each TV plays a different show. People at the cafe are hooked to their personal nargilas while their eyes flit constantly between a WWE match, a football match and a local news channel. After hydrating ourselves, we proceed to meet more community leaders. 

Community Centres and Holot
The first community centre we visit is managed by Z. Here adult asylum seekers are taught English and basic computer skills. The community centers also help asylum seekers fill in forms to apply for refugee status and temporary residency permits etc. "These forms have to be filled in very carefully. The officials should not find any loopholes to reject the candidature. It is a tedious job," says O who is attending a workshop to learn how to fill these forms. The community centres are central to the survival of the asylum seekers. "We help them settle down, find a job and also in some cases asylum seekers are so traumatised and need professional help. We try to help in any way possible," says MK.
At the second community centre English and computer classes were in progress. Asylum seekers sat diligently in stuffy rooms copying sentences from the board onto their notebooks.

Maintaining a centre like this and running it for a long period is not half as easy as one would expect it to be. The community leaders could get summons to Holot, the detention centre for asylum seekers, and NGOs and cenntres like these are shut overnight. MK's own NGO, Friends of Darfur, was shut because his friends was summoned to report to Holot. He says, "How do we keep paying rent, housing tax and water and electricity bills if our members are imprisoned in Holot?" African asylum seekers from Tel Aviv and other Israeli cities are detained in Holot without any charges or trial. They can be detained until their asylum claims are processed or such a time when they can be deported. "This mostly means indefinitely," says MK. Holot is a concept that came out of Israel's Anti-Infiltration Law, a law that seeks to make Israel a less rosy for asylum seekers.

Dinner

We headed to a Sudanese joint for dinner where MK and N took charge of ordering a huge meal. The restaurant was a lot like the first one we visited, a big backyard with rows of plastic chairs facing two huge TV screens. Men enjoyed their nargilas and blew out huge puffs of smoke before dipping their pita bread into a huge bowl of Sudanese gravy. I had never tried African food, so this was a very new experience to me. Eating with my hands came naturally to me, duh. But it was the idea that everyone was dipping into the same bowl of gravy and eating the same bread that was a tad disturbing. But I got over it soon enough, for the food was tasty. I had in fact asked R to make some dinner for me, in case I returned hungry, but that was not to be the case. I mostly dug into Fu-Fu, a white sticky ball of steamed wheat dough. Fu-Fu was served with a sambar-like sticky vegetable gravy and I was super excited about how close African food is to Indian food. When we were done with dinner, we continued to talk about Swiss chocolates, Indian food, Israel's primary education and more over mint tea. 

Turning Point, an IDF Drill

As drafts are piling up I am beginning to get lethargic with my blog. Before I can systematically wrap up each of those drafts, I have to write about today's drill.

As a prospective visitor to the country I remember scanning the newspapers and internet for any little information possible on the 50-day war, when it would end and if at all it would end. During this time, I noticed photos of how Israelis responded to air raid sirens - they would duck behind their cars, take cover inside their building stair wells or just lie down on the ground covering their heads.

Your nearest shelter

Today, for the first time since the war, an air raid siren was sounded to simulate a rocket attack on Israel. This was to check the response of civilians and especially schools and the effectiveness of the national siren system. I was expecting to see images similar to the photos I had seen last year. Turns out, Israelis are too cool for school. They will run to the shelter or take cover only when it's the real deal, not for a nation-wide drill.

I was supposed to be at a meeting by 11.30 am and the siren was scheduled to go off at 11.05. I was at a busy intersection when my phone buzzed with a broadcast message from the telephone operator about the alarm. Within seconds the two minute long siren was sounded. The siren took me by surprise despite the text message. Looking for a cue on what I should do next, I examined my surroundings to see what others were doing. Cars continued to zip past and for a moment I was thinking about the Doppler effect, people ambled about in and out of shops and restaurants, there was one dog that reacted violently to the siren, a group of corporate junta continued their informal meeting over coffee - in short, no one gave a damn.

Surprised at the reaction, I asked a friend if she too just carried on with work when the siren was sounded. "We are a strange nation," she said to me. She meant to comfort me because I looked rather shocked at this lackadaisical attitude of the people. She continued, "Do you really think we need a drill to tell us where to run to when the actual siren goes off. We know all too well what to do and where to go." It is true, last summer's war had Israelis running to shelters 3-4 times a day. The drill was crucial for children, employees who had changed jobs and those who are generally unfamiliar with the protocol.

I had informed R about the drill yesterday. Just as we were contemplating what we would do, B emailed saying, "if you hear the siren, it is most likely nothing, you can keep doing whatever you were doing." According to B, if you know where the shelter is, why do you need to participate in the drill?

R's colleague, AR, did not receive this 'play it cool' memo from B. Upon hearing the siren, AR looked to see if R would accompany him to the shelter. When he noticed that R was not one to run to the shelter, AR quietly went down to the shelter and came back a few minutes later and continued his work. Let us hope that AR does not have to show R the way the shelter any time soon, or ever.

Confessions of a Secular Jew

My eldest son chose to become religious even though we are a non-religious and secular family.
That complicates family life and relationships... - R 

An Orthodox family on a tour of the Old City of Jerusalem

At 80, R is a charming lady with fascinating thoughts about the Land of Israel, Judaism and the people of Israel. It is especially her eloquence that keeps me glued to her. After her non-religious grandson's rather crisp and merry Bar Mitzvah, we got talking about religion. Though R's mother was an observant Jew, her father turned non-religious and became a pioneer of a kind. He was the first in the family with radical views of 'quitting' religion at a time when religion kept the Jewsish diaspora bound together. He brought up his children with little or no religious influence. Religion was saved for the high-holidays like Yom Kippur. 

Despite her father's views, R was not far removed from religion because the Bible was a mandatory text to be studied throughout her 12 years of schooling. "The Bible has a lot to offer in terms of culture, language and even history; not just religion," she tells me. R tried her best to impart any and every knowledge she had about religion to her sons, not forcefully of course. Her youngest, she says, is not just non-religious, he is anti-religion. Her second son is the moderate kind, he is not vehemently 'anti' at the very least. And her third son, in a manner of speaking, is a sheep that found its way back to the shepherd. He lives with his family in Jerusalem, practicing Judaism as a Modern Orthodox Jew (more about the various shades of Orthodoxy in a separate post). She was quite impressed that her youngest behaved in a civil manner at the synagogue. He does not even own a kippah, if that suffices as a testimony for his anti-religion stance. Replying to her as she gave him a pat, he joked, "Who knows, I could be the next sheep." 

She confesses that having an orthodox member in the family strains relationships within the family (it is same with an orthodox family if a member decides to become secular or even tone down the level of orthodoxy). "My mother would like it that at least one member in the family has gone the religious way," she said, making peace with the situation. But it is because her eldest son is religious that the Bar Mitzvah ceremony was conducted by her eldest and religious grandson. The farther we go from our forefathers, the more dilute religion becomes, she observes. That does not pain her though, she recognises that scientific reasoning trumps blind faith. 

A pilgrim praying at the Western Wall

Having studied the Bible at length, R had the responsibility to coach her non-religious grandson on the Holy Text for a school exam. She commenced the tutoring with genesis and the story of creation. E did not allow her to finish the first sentence even; he was aghast that his grandmother was feeding him some ill-founded story. "God created man? You believe all this?" he asked. Not allowing her to explain herself, he said, "I thought you believed in nature and evolution." As she recounted this incident, I could see that she was proud of her grandson. "I must now pull his leg and ask him why he read verses out of the Torah for his Bar Mitzvah," she whispered to me, with a naughty glint in her eyes. 

Israel is a country of extreme contrasts. It is because of people like R and her family that I feel that there is still hope.