Knit, purl and knit again

So, just in time for the Jordanian spring I'm almost ready with my knitting-project, a thick scarf even taller than me, which I guess is not the hardest thing to accomplish. It is the biggest knitting project I've successfully completed (well, I'm not done yet so I know I shouldn't yell 'Hi' until I've crossed the river [Swedish proverb]), and I am not going to be able to use it in maybe eight months. 

Next project will be something more summer-friendly though, my plan is something light that I can use to cover up my shoulders with here in hot, but slightly strict, Jordan, but probably I will be done with it just in time for autumn.

Reading books

Three girls participating in a workshop approached me and Robert in a café a while ago asking some questions for a survey they were doing, and they asked us what inspires us more, movies or books? I thought for a while about the inspiring videos I've seen, or beautiful movies that have made me want to travel or take action in some cause. But really thinking about it, nothing can inspire and move me more than a book. The feelings I can get from a good book are more, profound, and they stay with me longer.

I'd forgotten how much I love to read books. I've thought for so long that I don't have time or energy to give to reading, but it seems as having only one computer in a household of two has been a blessing, particularly in combination with limited internet access. No more streaming of crappy series or browsing through meaningless websites for hours, because it is comfortable and, so I've thought, relaxing. In the last month I've now finished two books, of very different categories, and I don't miss New Girl, Big Bang Theory, Game of Thrones or Homeland at all. My only problem now is how I'm going to afford buying more books in a country that doesn't really have second hand shops or flea markets, or English paperbacks for that matter, and especially how heavy they are going to be in the suitcase when leaving Jordan.

This last book I read was one of those inspiring books, it is written by the same author as one of my favourite books, The End of Mr. Y, and I was anticipating something along the same lines, very philosophical and emotional but with a, to say the least, science fictional twist. But this time Scarlett Thomas left out the science fiction in Our Tragic Universe, which was slightly annoying only because I was waiting for it to appear through half of the book, and instead inserted some more.. spiritual aspects. Anyway, the book is about a female writer and her struggle in writing and life in general. It was a bit mind bending at times since the the main character is trying to write a book about  a writer writing and reading books, and she also reads a lot of books which are accounted for quite thoroughly. Even though there wasn't really a conventional plot, and in the beginning it was quite boring since it seemed like the book never really started, it turned out to be a really nice book, with characters I could identify with. In the book the characters discuss the concept of a "story-less story", a story that doesn't comply to the format of regular stories, where there is a problem that needs to be solves, a monster to be overcome or some kind of drama that needs to be resolved. This is also a concept that is used in the book, we simply visit the main character for a period of her life and get to follow her as she wanders around in life, dealing with everyday trouble, there is no real main plot, except her life. I came to like this concept so the only real down fall with the book was the ending. It seems like the author has felt forced to wrap things up and in some way provide a happy ending, if yet not a classical one. It seems rushed and unnecessary, when I for once didn't feel like a book needed to provide all the answers, tie all the loose ends together. I was actually happy with letting her go on her way, as I would be with a person I met briefly in real life. 

In one of the ways this book has inspired me, not surprisingly, is that I want to write more. I have always had that wish to write but maybe not the faith in myself, so I have this brilliant idea that might be a good start, which basically is to read even more books and try to write about them. Since I devour books in all categories (the previous book I read was the last in a trilogy about a group of teenage witches in high school) I think it is a good way to learn about different kinds of writing. And if anyone wants to hire me to review books, I would be more than happy to do the job! 

Reprogramming humanity - amongst hatred and division in the.. world

At work they argue that human kind needs a new software, that we need to reset the whole system and start anew. Working in an office in Jordan you stay tuned in to all the terrible news that happens around the world. In contrast to people at home, in the west, they don’t seem numbed as each report of a new shooting or beheading is shouted out on the computer screen. Instead they seem tired, sad, resigned. 

I admire their solidarity with other muslims, arabs and with people in general, around the world. But I find myself equally numb as the general public in the west, as they tell me about their diminishing hope for mankind. I wonder how it is, that we have become so numb, so distanced from what is happening around the world. Some argue that it is due to constant exposure to horrid news, terrifying pictures. But here it is the same, and even worse, they do not take the same precautions when they edit the news, reality is shown in a different, more realistic, detailed and morbid way. They didn’t hesitate to show the whole video of the Jordanian pilot being burnt alive, while only screenshots of him in the cage was shown elsewhere.

The difference must be that so many here have lived it themselves, known the hardships of poverty, of war, of fleeing from a country, leaving all they know, seeking safety in an unknown place. It makes me sad though, that we have so little empathy for people, that even if we only see them on a screen, we can not suffer with them, because we have not suffered ourselves. 

Everything is so close here, to the south there is Egypt, which have faced political turmoil ever since the Arab spring. To the west there is occupied Palestine, from which the majority of Jordan’s population once have fled. To the north there is Syria, a country in raging civil war, on it's fourth year. To the east there is Iraq, a country that has been torn by war and conflict for as long as I can seem to remember, now battling the hostile takeover by ISIS. 

And in the middle there is Jordan. No wonder people so closely follow the news everyday, discussing the involvement of the Jordanian army in fighting ISIS with the coalition. And even though the conflicts haven’t spilled over in a sense that there is war and fighting here in Jordan, it has filled people’s minds. And every time they can breathe out and for a while forget to think about the conflicts, when the conflicts have temporarily reached a horrid kind of status quo, something escalates and the computer screens are again filled with flashing news of fighting, burnt villages or prisoners being held in steel cages. And I can see the weight weighing more heavily on their shoulders, the sighs growing ever more heavy. 

Yes, we need to reprogram humanity, if not so that everyone will stop fight and argue over such things as borders, nationality and religion, but at least so that we might feel some empathy for people even though they are not our next door neighbor. Then maybe, maybe, we would take action and stand in solidarity with people suffering no matter where in the world they live, and stop supporting the systems that make the world corrupt.

Picture day

Out walking yesterday I couldn't resist the view in the picture above, it was really inviting me to take a panorama picture. Reality doesn't really translate in the picture, but imagine it being muuch bigger, and all you see is hills upon hills covered with beige houses. 

This, is why I live here.

Lunch at work can on some rare days be a festive occasion like in the picture to the right. And no, everything is not vegan, but enough things are. And the spice on the potatoes in the upper left corner of the table, it is to die for, it is so.. savory. Oh, I'm hungry now.  

Our house! Two streets off 3rd circle you'll find this beautiful building with two Swedish residents in the basement.

Chasing the internet

We're still without internet in the apartment so every weekend focuses on chasing cafés that have free internet and cheap, vegan food. Today we are at Shams el Balad, a vegetarian, part-organic café. Very cosy atmosphere, decent internet, and cheap food! 

"We had houses and lands, we had dreams"

A kind of throw-back-Thursday, because I found this old article I wrote when in Palestine last year that never got published, because of lack of things getting done.

"We had houses and lands, we had dreams. The occupation came and took all this from us and now we are refugees.”

We sit in an idyllic garden with fruit trees and birds chirping in the background. It offers a stark contrast to the story the man we are meeting is telling us. It is a story of occupation and a story of loss. Loss of land, loss of income, loss of a whole village’s history and loss of one mans hope and dreams.

Ahmad Barghouti, most known as Abu Nidal, has seven children. He and his wife Rabaa live in the small village of Al Walaja, outside Bethlehem. At 67 years old he is unemployed, like the rest of his family. He used to work in construction in Israel but no one in his family receives a permit to cross the border anymore. They rely on what they can reap from the garden and a small sum of money sent by one of his sons who work abroad. It is not enough.

As a child Abu Nidal lived with his family in the original village of Al Walaja. In 1948, when he was just one year old, the whole village had to flee when Israel occupied the area. Around 1 200 people were displaced. Most of them fled to Jordan, and the rest, like Abu Nidal, settled in the West Bank. Together they created a new village, the new Al Walaja. 66 years later, the population originating from the village has grown to 20 000 people in Jordan and around 2 500 in new Al Walaja.

When Abu Nidal talks about Israel and the displacement of his people, you can hear the bitterness in his voice. But he does not only blame Israel for that which has happened to them:

“The entire world helped in our displacement, Israel is nothing without the help of European countries. We are the victims of the United Nations.” 

He tells us that he believes that Israel is a victim of Europe as well, that they wanted to get rid of the “Jewish problem” by giving the Jews a state in Palestine. They tried with many other places before settling on Palestine, just to get them out of Europe, he says. Israel is also, according to Abu Nidal, manipulated by USA, who uses them as a kind of weapon, a frontline in the Middle East.

As he looks out over the valley, he points to the “green line”, the official border dividing the land between Israelis and Palestinians. On the other side of the border lays the rest of the land belonging to the original village of Al Walaja. Even though it is so close, it is seemingly lost forever for Abu Nidal and his neighbors.

“As a refugee, the only land I have is this. They took 150 dunoms of my land for the Geilo settlement, 200 dunoms was confiscated to road building and all I had left was 40 dunoms.”

YMCA helped him plant 180 olive trees to be able to support himself by exporting olive oil to Europe. It did not take long until the Israeli army came and uprooted the olive trees, together with other fruit trees. Apples, apricots, figs and grapes. Without notice, without explanation, they just came and took his hope of a livelihood away. The plan was to use the land as a source of living for the family. He had 30 beehives, plenty of goats and a tractor to work the land. Now he has only a couple of beehives and six goats left. And the tractor is no longer allowed to enter the area.

“Israel is like a bulldozer that stretches it’s arm out and take all the land that it wants.”

Abu Nidal has lost a lot to Israel, but not his sense of humor, though it is a tad dark. When asked if he gets intimidated or abused by soldiers at his house, he answers with a hearty laughter:

“This house, it is the soldiers house, not mine. They’ve taken everything. Maybe one day, they will even take my wife!”

It is hard to not laugh with him, he has a contagious laughter, but he is serious. They have taken all but everything from him. Two thirds of the 40 dunoms Abu Nidal had left, is now on the other side of the apartheid wall. The wall is not yet built here, but it might as well be. A road cuts through the landscape where the wall is to be built and already now separates Abu Nidal from his land. He sighs and tells about how beautiful the view used to be, and about how his grandchildren used to come and play on the land.

“About a month ago my granddaughter was playing by the road, the Israeli army came and told her to move.“

It is not only his grandchildren that are forbidden access, he can not use the land for farming or to graze his goats. Abu Nidal’s mother, father and grandmother’s are buried in this land. The road was initially planned to go on top of the family grave. He went to the court and they approved to move the road, with the result that he lost more land. But at least, for now, he can visit the graves. He has a walk-through under the road, but it will be guarded with a gate when the wall is finished. He has yet to receive an answer on how often he will be able to go through the gate.

Abu Nidal is clear about what he thinks about Israel’s policies, it is apartheid. The wall is used to separate the Palestinian people, confiscate land and build settlements. The last phase of colonization. The way to Beit Jala, a nearby town, used to be five minutes, because of the wall it now takes 30 minutes. The villagers are afraid they may loose access to the town if the Israelis decide to build a gate in the wall to prevent them from passing. When the wall is finished they will live in an open-air prison, guarded by Israelis at the gates. It is, according to Abu Nidal, part of their plan to displace Palestinians and let only Israelis live in their land.

“Israel wants a Jewish state so it doesn’t want to place anyone who is not Jewish here; this is a high level of apartheid and racism.“

They demolished 40 houses in the village to build Israeli homes, some of the houses were even demolished twice. People build their houses again and again, even if it is torn down, because they have nowhere else to go.

“We are not allowed to build houses because we have a green ID [Palestinian ID]. We are treated only with bulldozers and demolitions.“

Palestinians water share in the area, according to Abu Nidal, is about 14 liters per day and person, while the Israelis share is 140 liters. They have underground water in their lands but they are not permitted by Israel to make use of it. Instead, the water goes straight to the Israeli settlements in the nearby area.

It is no doubt that Abu Nidal is a politically aware man. He talks about the boycott of Israel in Europe, he approves of the idea but at the same time feels ashamed that the Arabs are not supporting it. In Palestine the shops are full of Israeli products and he feels they are supporting them by buying and using the products. He believes that the people should stand in front of their governments. To put pressure on them so that they will boycott the occupation and stop supporting Israel so it’s economy will collapse. But resistance, small or big, is hard in Palestine. Those who have a permission to work in Israel will not participate, or let their children participate, in popular struggle such as demonstrations. The economical situation is so bad that they can not afford to loose their permits. Popular struggle also needs leadership, but there are no leaders here, Abu Nidal tells us:

“No one protects the ones who resist, even though it is their right to fight to end apartheid. /…/ Here we don’t have safety, even the Palestinian Authority is protecting Israel.”

Before answering the last question on how the personal impact has been upon the family, financially and emotionally, he pauses and gives up a tired chuckle before replying:

“I’ve got nothing left…”

To learn more about the village Al Walaja and Abu Nidal’s neighbours, you can see a short video, read a short text and see some pictures that illustrates the life in the village, just follow the links:

http://972mag.com/watch-al-walaja-the-story-of-a-shrinking-palestinian-village/84252/

http://electronicintifada.net/content/photos-al-walaja-village-faces-slow-death-israel-takes-its-land/13264

Settling in

Yesterday we finally got to move in to our new den! I say ‘den' since the apartment is underground, partly. We have windows up by the ceiling, but to protect us from unwanted attention (wouldn’t want anyone to peek in while cooking and discovering our secret recipes, right?) the windows are covered with dark film. So we are a bit shielded from the world on “the surface” and are slightly blinded every time we climb up from the den. An upside to living on the downside though is that it is warmer in the winter and cooler in the summer! Something that we will definitely be grateful for in a couple of months. 

Even though the apartment is newly, and completely, renovated, we had some issues when we moved in and I had to do one of the things I hate most - ask the landlords to fix it. So far they’ve got us a kitchen table and fixed the flood in the bathroom, but they have still to fix the heating in the living room, the bathroom door (which won’t close), the three windows that can’t be locked and the closets, which are missing the bars you hang your hangers on. And they promised to help us getting internet in the apartment. But I guess we have to get used to doing (and expecting things to be done) in Jordanian time; slightly slower than we’re used to.

The apartment is really nice though, and so is Amman. We really enjoy the culture of eating falafel and hummus, with bread as your spoon, fork and knife, shopping your vegetables at the market down town, buying fresh bread at the bakery and going to smoky cafés. Yes, our lives revolve around food. But whose doesn’t?

Especially now when it is getting warmer life is quite enjoyable in Jordan. Just last week we huddled around a gas heater in the apartment we shared with four other expats. Covered in blankets, warm socks, scarfs, hoodies and all things warm that we could find. We couldn’t wash because it was so cold and humid inside so nothing ever dried. My shoes were wet for a week because I walked in slushy snow one day and I had to were plastic bags as socks to try to stay dry and somewhat warm. 

New days and new things

So today I both had my first day at my new internship in Shmeisani (which is an area in Amman, but sounds like a dish in eastern Europe), and signed a contract for the 'Aamazing apartment' I mentioned earlier. Quite exciting times I would say. 

At my internship at Identity Center, an organization working for participation in civil society, democracy and human rights, I’ve so far become “responsible” for twitter and instagram and been assigned to do infograhps about female participation in Jordanian politics. Interesting subjects, I’m looking forward to getting started! 

Me and my tea cup sitting at my very own desk at the office

The art of apartment hunting

We’ve been around on every website known (to google) for finding furnished apartments to rent in Amman. We’ve changed budget about one hundred times and considered everything from sharing flats to living in a studio apartment or renting an apartment 3 bedroom big. 

We started off seeing some studio apartments, we were excited to go there because the rent was exceptionally low, even most of the bills included. We should've known better than to expect anything close to reasonable standard. I don’t need to say much more than that the hallway had a, lets say convincing, odour of cat piss.

Onto the next project, we’ve had contact with two agents working for a website (gweet.com, similar to airbnb.com) and they took us to see some apartments, slightly out of our budget. For the first apartment we ventured far into a residential area I don’t know the name of, and visited the darkest, most depressing apartment I’ve ever seen. Considering standard and location it was way over priced, I didn’t even have to glance at Robert to know we wouldn’t move there if it so were for free. I guess it was some sort of sales trick that he took us there first. Because the next apartment, for the same price, was Aamazing (yes, it deserves both a capital and a dubbel ‘A’). Central, newly renovated, big, fresh, modern, never used before, safe area, close to transportation, you name it. Only draw back was that it is i.n the basement, though it has windows. And of course not to forget - it is definitely too good to be true, and a little over our budget. 

So tomorrow we will see two apartments, both with perfect locations. One of them seems to cheap, so there must be a draw back there somewhere (my guess is, shared bathroom with the whole building), and the other one takes out an agents fee of 10% so it must be really good for us to go for it. 

It is fun, but nerve wracking. How many apartments should we see? How much of a “game” do the landlords/agents play? Is it okay to try and bargain the price? How long can you wait until you accept an offer? Clearly, I’m not very good at this, I just want everyone to be open about their intentions and let me take my time making up my mind. Oh, in a perfect world. 

So far we’ve been, what I consider, lucky. We’ve met nice and helpful people. And I think that the fine art of apartment hunting can be mastered by being nice (thanks dad for letting me inherit your ‘trevlighet’) and relentless. Answer to ads of apartments you don’t even want or afford, chance is they have another apartment. And if you’re nice enough, they’ll even come pick you up and drive you back to wherever and you won’t have to pay taxis back and forth everywhere!

Thunder and lightning! It is… snowing in Amman?

After almost two days of traveling (train to Stockholm Tuesday, plane to Amman Wednesday) we finally arrived at Queen Alia airport in Jordan, outside Amman. Through the passport control, and an officer who briefly considered if he should be bother to be interested in why I came here for the fourth time - and decided not to be, and out into that distinct Jordan air. It smells like a mixture of fuel, dust and sunshine - it would have been wonderful, had it not been for the snow storm. 

When I was told that a snow storm would hit the Amman area I didn’t really take it seriously. It is like when it snows in London and the tube stops and you think “really? come on, it is just snow! How would it work if we stopped everything as soon as it snowed a little?" There wouldn’t be anything happening in half of Sweden for five months each year, would be the correct answer to that rhetorical question. But, I have to admit, it was quite bad. It was snowing pretty hard but it just kind of melted on the ground so everything became covered in slush, roads were closed and buses weren’t allowed to drive. This we learned after two hours or so waiting in the bus, which by the way was running all this time - really good for the environment right? Finally, one hour later, we found a cab driver who didn’t want to completely ruin us. So we shared a cab with two others and too many bags. 

I’ve never seen so many abandoned cars and selfie-taking (#snowselfie) people in one hour. Crazy times. After like an hour drive, with one of our co-passengers praying every time we starting going up hill, and an embarrassing re-introduction to Arabic, we finally arrived at the hotel.

Today has been crazy enough as well, after sleeping way over breakfast time we had to venture out into a rainy Amman to find something to eat. Hungry and cold we took a cab to the well-known Rainbow Street to find breakfast and an ATM. Just to find everything being closed. We decided to go down town instead, which usually is a pleasant walk, except today we had the company of rain water racing us down the hills. So by the time we came down and had to cross the road to get to the only open café we could find, we had to wade in 10 cm deep water that rushed through the streets. To say the least, my shoes got a little wet.

After that adventure we walked back to the hotel, soaking wet by now, to find ourselves a permanent place to live. And seeing as the Jordanian dinar is impossibly strong right now (nibbling at the British pound even) our budget has become near impossibly low.

Told you it would be an adventure! ;-)

Some stairs, or a waterfall? Who knows, I'm just glad we weren't going that way.

Family fun and leaving soon

Had a wonderful day with the family today. Shopping, food, laughs. I’m lucky to have such a supportive family. But I’m feeling more and more ready to go, find my own adventure. And also my skin is starting to protest against the cold, dry air. I’ve learned that now, when the skin on my face starts to react, it is time to go! 

We’ve booked a hotel for the first four nights, hopefully we can estimate from there how long time it will take to find somewhere to live. We’ve seen so many nice apartments online, but I think we have to be there to see the apartment, meet the landlords. And especially see the area. I’m getting more and more nervous, I have so many nice memories from Amman and Jordan. But the more I think about it, the less I remember. What was that area called again, how did one use the public transportation-system? I’ve no idea. Fun to learn all that over again. 

I really look forward to find my place there again. Get back to my favorite café at Paris circle, find a new supermarket, a fruit market, and of course, get back to weekly shopping at the second hand market in Abdali! Very important stuff. I’ll have to fight to not become a regular at the closest bakery and/or falafel place though, dangerous stuff that is.

27/12 - 2014

How bizarre it feels, that in less than two weeks we’re in Jordan, indefinite. I’ve never moved somewhere without having a plan for what to do there and how to go forward. Well, if I’m not counting Norway (who does?). 

I’m super excited for it though, and preparations have finally started, making lists (my favorite), and reading up on the areas history. My plan is to be quite frequent at the blog, to keep people updated (but I’ve said that before, haven’t I?). This time in English, I need the practice. 

For those who don’t know, I have a volunteer position at a local organization where I will be helping them in working with issues regarding social justice and democracy. The organization seems really good, though I need a paid job within a few months, so the search for that need to start quite soon. But, is there anything that can cause procrastination, it is applying for jobs. Talk about anxiety. But at least my room gets cleaned, my computer gets organized, and most importantly - I get up to date on all my TV-shows ; )

This is the place I'll leave! Looks beautiful in the sunset :)

Day minus 17 and counting down

The next adventure in my life will soon begin. We’ve taken everything we own and put it in a storage unit/boiler room somewhere in an apartment building in my home town. In 17 days me and my Robert, bringing some clothes and books, will go to Jordan and Amman. With an unknown return date.

It is crazy much that circles around in my head and I've got mixed feelings about everything right now. Everything with moving from Norway, a relatively new position at work and focus on celebrating christmas with the family has put Jordan too far down on my priority list. Hence, not much is set for the trip. We have tickets for the 7th of January and almost all vaccines. But no place to live, no jobs. 

An adventure it will be indeed. I know one thing though: it’ll be fun.

Att försöka sätta ord på det. Oron och ilskan.

Nyhets- och sociala flöden de senaste dagarna har fyllts med rapporteringar från Gaza och Israel. Svenska UD ska evakuera de svenskar som vill lämna Gaza och de uppmanar till försiktighet i Jerusalem och på Västbanken. Vänner och familj säger att de tycker det är skönt att jag kom hem innan det eskalerade. "Herregud, att du var där." "Men det är väl ändå skönt att du är hemma nu."

Men jag är inte lättad. Inte alls. Jag tänker på alla som inte kan lämna Gaza (där jag inte ens var för att förtydliga saker), på de som får betala priset för konflikten. Jag tänker på de som jag lärde känna på Västbanken, på de som jag inte lärde känna. Om frustrationen över att vara så nära det som händer, men ändå inte kunna göra någonting. 

Jag läser klumpiga uttalanden som får mig att tappa förtroendet för politiska ledare. Tilliten till media, den lilla som fanns kvar där, försvinner när de i förbigående säger att hundratals dött i Gaza av israeliska flygbomber men sedan i detalj återger hur en tonåring skadats av en raket skjuten från Gaza. Men det finns också bilder på solidaritetsmarkeringar och videor på journalister och taxichaufförer som förbannat berättar sanningen. Det verkar dock som den första världssynen överväger den senare. Real-politik kan göra mig så förbannad och politikerna håller sig på den mest fördelaktiga sidan, alltså den sida som USA håller på. 

Verkligheten på marken, är det någon som bryr sig om den? Israels "rätt att försvara sig" som resulterar i övervåld mot civila? De har skapat våldet från dem som de kallar terrorister och de vet det själva. Utan ockupation och blockad, inga raketer. Tänk dig om du hade varit instängd i ditt hus, med få möjligheter för självförsörjning och ingen möjlighet till (laglig) import. Den som stängt in dig tar ditt vatten och halva din trädgård som "buffertzon". Du försöker få stöd av dina grannar, av de som bor på andra sidan kvarteret, i andra kvarter runtomkring, men ingen lyssnar. Du försöker förhandla med den som stängt dig in. Kraven är omöjliga och förnedrande att uppnå. Du har ingen makt. Inga förhandlingsmedel. Kopplet stryps hårdare åt din hals. Grundvattnet är så lågt att saltvatten tar dess plats och snart svälter du och din familj för inget går att odla. Vad gör du? Sätter dig ner och väntar på bättre tider? Eller gör du motstånd?

Folkvalda partiet Hamas, eller vem det än nu är som avfyrar raketerna, det är de som agerar i självförsvar. Även om jag egentligen är pacifist och inte gillar våld, så måste jag säga att jag vet inte vad de annars skulle kunna göra. Kidnappningen av de tre unga männen på Västbanken var så klart hemsk, jag önskar ingens död. Men det här är första gången på länge som världen äntligen pratar om Gaza och Palestina igen. När ledare uppmanar till lugn på båda sidor, när FN krismöter. Jag önskar innerligen att ingen ska behöva dö för att det ska bli fred och en lösning på denna eviga konflikt, mellan två helt ojämbördiga parter. 

Det jag dock ser framför mig är kartan på det som är kvar av det palestinska självstyret. Jag minns de israeliska vägskyltarna som pekar mot israeliska bosättningar inne på vad som egentligen ska vara palestinskt territorium, det som ska bli det framtida Palestina. Muren, som slingrar sig tätt intill palestinska hus för att stjäla så mycket land som möjligt. Vakttornen, som står tätt in till husen som har täckt för sina fönster för att slippa bli sedda genom de unga soldaternas kikarsikten...

Vem är det som egentligen inte vill ha fred?

Ps. Kom ihåg att Bojkotta Apartheid, Bojkotta Israel: http://palestinakomiteen.no/ikke-kjop-varer-som-smaker-av-okkupasjon/

Vatten och salt

Jag sitter på bussen och väntar på att busschauffören ska be klart så att vi kan åka. Efter jobbet skulle jag på något så ytligt som en shoppingrunda, men i Ramallah möttes jag av stängda dörrar och neddragna galler. Det är strejk. Strejk för att uppmärksamma och stå i solidaritet med de nästan 130 politiska fångar som hungerstrejkat i 46 dagar idag. 46 dagar. Det är 1 1/2 månad med inget annat än ett dropp i armen med vatten och salt. 

Strejken fungerar. De stängda butikerna lägger sordi på stämningen i det annars så livliga Ramallah. Caféer, klädesbutiker, restauranger, fruktmarknaden, allting förutom apoteken och bankerna är stängt. Gatorna är tysta förutom en arabisk bön som stilla ringlar sig genom gatorna från en högtalare i någon gränd i närheten. Solen går precis i moln och det gråa ljuset matchar stämningen. Jag tror de flesta tänker på fångarna idag. 

I Nablus förra veckan var det en liknande strejk. Det var dock några butiker i gamla staden som vågade bryta strejken. De blev snabbt tillrättalagda av ungdomar som använde alla medel för att skrämma dem till att stänga. Sirenljud genom megafoner, smällare och brinnande bildäck. Det är få som vågar bryta strejken i Ramallah idag, de som ändå gör det har dörren knappt på glänt. De gör det ju inte för att de inte respekterar strejken och den kamp som fångarna för. Men det handlar också om förlorad inkomst. Ändå vill jag inte gå in och handla där.

Antalet fångar som hungerstrejkar varierar efter källa, allt från 125 till 300, med de som i tillägg fastar under en kortare period i solidaritet. Antalet gick upp till 1 500 förra veckan. Men det alla verkar vara överens om är att det är den längsta mass-hungerstrejken sen 1967. De strejkar för att protestera administrative detention, en ordning som gör det möjligt för Israel att arrestera vem som helst, när som helst - utan anledning, och hålla dem i arrest upp till sex månader utan minsta förklaring. Än mindre ett åtal eller en rättegång. Det är inte ens säkert att du går fri efter att du suttit i sex månader, det finns ingen gräns för hur många gånger du kan bli arresterad. En vanlig procedur är att de släpper ut någon ur fängelset och innan han (det är oftast män) hinner sänka axlarna och gå mot sin väntande familj så kommer de och hämtar in honom igen för ytterliggare sex månader. 

Det ska tydligen vara en undantagslag för statens säkerhet. Lite som Guantanamo. Fast det är inte ett undantagstillstånd. Det är vardag. FN och självaste Ban Ki-moon har uttryckt oro över ämnet och uppmanat Israel att fångarna antingen ska bli "charged or released without delay."

Vi kan ju bara hoppas att det här blir första gången de lyssnar.. 

Sanningen. Verkligheten.

Hur ska jag förklara detta? 

Jag har nu varit på plats i Palestina i ganska precis två månader. Jag kan inte påstå att jag har svaret på konflikten, att jag är klokare än någon annan eller att mina tankar ni får ta del av nedan är unika. 

Men herregud. Det är ju så tydligt det som sker. Det är så uppenbart fel, omoraliskt och utstuderat att det känns så konstigt att alla inte förstår det jag förstår. Och ja, det låter kanske som om att jag är med i en sekt. Jag behövde inte komma hit för att förstå det, men här, väl på plats, så får en det verkligen slängt i ansiktet. 

Sanningen. Verkligheten.

Sanningen och verkligheten att nej, det är i grunden inte en särskilt komplicerad konflikt. Att nej, Israel är inte Mellanösterns enda demokrati, de är inte hotade att bli slängda i havet av någon (förutom möjligen Hezbollah, men jag menar, det finns inget realistiskt hot) och det är inte synd om dem. Den nazistiska, främlingsfientliga vågen som drar igenom Europa är mycket oroväckande, men den kan inte användas som en ursäkt för det Israel gör mot Palestina och dess invånare. INGET kan användas som ursäkt för det. Om något så borde Israel, som till majoritet består av en judisk befolkning, själva förstå att det de gör är fel. De har ju själva, om inte personligen så inom familjen, fått utstå förföljelse, lidande, tvångsförflyttning, demonisering, nazism, rasism.. Borde de inte då ha en större förståelse för vad det är som sker? 

Det går inte att tippa på tå för alltid på grund av det som skedde under andra världskriget och antisemitismen som fortfarande finns. För antisemitism har inget med Israel att göra. Israel gör inte saker fel för att det är judar som bor här. Israel gör saker fel för att det är fel det de gör. Punktum. 

Sedan vi kom hit har jag och min kollega bevittnat murar som stulit land från bönder, hem som blivit förstörda av bulldozers, splittrade familjer, orättfärdiga rättegångar, trakasserade landsbyar, människor som förlorat sina jobb för att de inte längre får tillstånd att korsa gränsen, ungdomar som blivit skjutna i bröstet för att de gör motstånd mot ett orättfärdigt rättssystem...

Men det är svårt att förmedla den här bilden. Jag vill inte uppfattas som en "extremist", för vem lyssnar på en sådan? Det är dock svårt att inte bli extrem. Att fortsätta se nyanserna och försöka skilja Israel från israeler. Varför gör de som de gör? Varför kan de inte bara leva i fred? Jag har liten tilltro till den israeliska staten och dess krigslystna, USA-stötta parlamentariker. Men vanliga, hederliga israeliska medborgare? Barnfamiljer, studenter, vanliga arbetare? Varför har de ett sådant hat mot palestinier, som de inte ens erkänner har en egen nationell tillhörighet utan ständigt refererar till som "araber"? Israel, som har fått kämpa för att få ha sitt eget land, att få erbjuda en fristad åt en judisk befolkning som varit förföljd världen över borde väl ha en mjuk plats i sitt hjärta där de kan förstå att palestinierna bara vill ha samma sak? 

Fristad. Ett relevant ord i sammanhanget. Det frestar ibland att tänka, när en åker igenom det vackra palestinska landskapet och ser outposts och bosättningar tränga sig in bland små palestinska byar: "Vad har de här att göra? Varför kommer de just hit? Det finns väl andra platser de kan åka till?" Men jag hör ju hur det låter: inskränkt, ensidigt - rasistiskt. Det är en fristad för dem, det förstår jag, de nya israelerna som väljer att flytta hit. Jag har förståelse för det, i Sverige är jag väldigt för att skänka fristad åt alla människor som behöver frihet och trygghet från krig, fattigdom, förtryck, förföljelse, elände. Och samma princip borde gälla här. 

Men är det inte precis där skon klämmer? Samma princip borde gälla här. Alla människor som behöver frihet från krig, fattigdom, förtryck, förföljelse, elände borde få söka fristad här. Judar som muslimer och kristna. Palestinier som israeler. Det kan aldrig vara rättfärdigat att någons jakt på frihet och trygghet ska sända iväg någon annan på jakt efter det en annan plats. I dag är nästan 5 miljoner palestinier på flykt runt om i världen (ofattliga siffror jag vet, men det är på riktigt). Det är 66 år och flera generationer av palestinier som levt sina liv i statslöshet, hopplöshet och väntan. Väntan på att få återvända, väntan på att få bli erkända av omvärlden som det de vet att de är: palestinier med rätten till en egen stat.

Demonstration för rätten att återvända på Nakba-markeringen i Ramallah, 15 maj 2014.

Att ta semester från semestern

Det är ju inte semester jag kom hit för, jag har faktiskt ett jobb att göra. Men allting känns som ett enda stort äventyr, så när jag fick besök och hade en liten turistvecka så kändes det väldigt lyxigt. Att kunna ta semester från semestern. 

Vi började med ett besök i Jerusalem, en stad fylld med religion och historia. Mest känd är nog Damaskusporten. Porten som för tusen-nånting år sedan var början på resan till Damaskus. Både gammal och ny historia finns här då en kan se kulhål i väggarna från strider genom åren. Inne i gamla staden, som gömmer sig bakom porten, hittar en ett kulturellt shoppingmekka inringad av den gamla stadsmuren. Kläder, souvenirer, smycken och shoppande turister trängs med restauranger, kryddor och en shoppande lokalbefolkning. 

Palestinasjalar och trummor, dukar och gosedjur, tavlor och planscher, vattenpipor och lyktor.
Det du inte kan hitta här finns nog inte!

Mat, på hotellet. Om en inte blir frälst av detta så vet jag inte vad. Det är oliver, hummus, blomkål, champinjoner, soltorkade tomater, tapenada, färsk sallad, turisk sallad, inlagda grönsaker och bröd i en härlig blandning.

Nästa stopp var lite otippat det norska representationskontoret på Västbanken. Det var ju den 17:e maj, och bor och jobbar en med en norsk medborgare så har en inte mycket val: det måste bara firas. Inte för att vi klagade så mycket när vi kom fram, gratis mat, dryck och underhållning i en grön trädgård - inget en upplever varje dag. Det obligatoriska 17:e maj-tåget hann vi också med, vi fick mer än ett par nyfikna blickar från husen runt omkring.

Under besöket hann vi med lite "politisk turism" också, jag tog med Robert till Hebron.  Som ni kan läsa från mitt föregående inlägg är det en stad som är ganska tung att besöka. Konflikten är verkligen närvarande och det syns i både infrastruktur och människors ansikten. Vi gick längs den tomma gatan Shuhada, som soldaterna som vaktade den kallade Chicago street, en surrealistisk känsla. En av soldaterna insisterade också att ta en gruppbild på oss med min kamera, jag har aldrig sett tre människor le så osäkert på en bild förut, men vad skulle vi göra? 

Nu har jag också ynnesten av att ha en systemkamera och inget objekt går säkert från min lins! Här är vårt hus, den första balkongen (med tvätt hängandes på linor) är vår balkong, vi trivs jättebra i Salfeet. Det är en fin liten stad med ett sådant liv som kommer med en liten stad. Alla känner alla och varje morgon hejar jag på han som äger falafelrestaurangen vi brukar gå på, och hans son som är ganska bra på engelska. Grannarna påtar på i trädgården och vi ropar till varandra där jag står på balkongen. Jag har alltid en stående invitation på te och popcorn. Teet är faktiskt extra gott här, de använder färsk mynta eller meriam i som ger teet en extra dimension. Bevis: Robert drack tre koppar i rad.

KNEIFEH. Antingen älskar du det eller så tycker du bara mycket om det. Det finns inget mindre än det. Det är fett och det är sött och det är lite mer sött och fett. Ost med kaka och så massa sockervatten som hälls över först under tillagning och så igen vid servering. Kneifeh är Palestinas söta stolthet och alla som kommer till Palestina måste smaka. Annars har du som inte riktigt varit i Palestina. Och för att få tag på den bästa kneifehn måste du åka till Al Quds sweets i Nablus gamla stad. Det slår all annan kneifeh med hästlängder. Personalen var så snäll att de släppte in oss i bakeriet för att se hur kneifeh blir till, först läggs degen på en stor plåt, sen osten och semolina (rullat vete..?) sprids utöver. Plåten snurrar över en het låga, sen vänds hela saken upp och ner innan sockervatten hälls över, litervis av sockervatten. Mmm.