Cafe 3

I get talking to three men at the bar (when I say 'bar', I don't mean that alcohol is on sale. I am drinking coca cola and thick Arabic black coffee). One of them Mahmed, works for Jawwal which is the main Palestinian mobile company here. He is in his twenties, dressed very neatly in white shirt and tie. He works very hard, as everbody seems to here just to put food on their tables. In his case he has got a good job, but he has to show his commitment by doing two days of unpaid overtime a week. This is not in his contract but is somehow expected. He studied electronics at university, then got a job in a call centre run by Jawwal. He was picked out to work directly for them because of his enthusiasm. He lives in Abu Dis, but his job is in Ramallah. He leaves his house at six, drives to work getting to Ramallah by seven, that is if there are no extra delays at checkpoints. He works for twelve hours and then drives back. Now he is in the cafe. It is gone 10.00 pm. He will have to get up again in less than eight hours. 'How many hours sleep do you get at night? I ask. 'About five', he replies. I wonder how he can take it. He doesn't look particularly tired. 'I am in my twenties, I can do it at the moment'.

The other man's name is Abid. Both he and Mahmed speak very good English. Mosa is there behind the bar and we talk. The conversation gets intense, political. 'Do you think there will be another intifada?' I ask. 'Not for the moment', one of them replies, 'We have been through this last one since 2001 (officially the Intifada, the uprising of Palestinians against Israel, is still going on - Intifada means 'shaking off'). We talk about Sharon, the former Israeli prime minister who has been in a coma for several years since suffering a stroke. They tell me the Arabic for coma, which means something like 'half death'. They hate him of course, because of Sabra and Shatila, Cana, Jenin etc. I asks them whether they think there will ever be peace with Israel. 'Never', Mosa says, 'because their culture and our culture, their way of life and our way of life are completely different'. I am quite saddened by this because this attitude seems to leave no room for change or compromise. I don't know whether they think that Israel will one day go away, will be defeated or wiped out that all the Israelis will just leave or be driven out. It seems like an apolcalyptic vision which is the other side of the coin from an acceptance of the inevitability of things. They all of them have have green ids, even Mahmed who otherwise has a very good job with good prospects for the future, and they are as a result, like caged beasts within this small area.

I ask them whether Israelis, apart from soldiers, ever come to Abu Dis (thinking maybe then some human contact is possible). Abid says, 'No. They are afraid of us. They think we are all terrorists'.

It is eleven o'clock and I decide to go home. I leave with Abid. Outside, there are still people about, and shops are open including the very large general store on our corner, run by the man whose son is in Finland. I tell Abid I am amazed how hard people work here. He tells me that that shop is usually open until one in the morning. I tell him, how kind hospitable and caring people are here. 'It is the hard life we have', he replies, 'we have to be'. And then he says something that sticks in my mind so strongly. 'If we are not for each other, then who is going to be for us?'

Because without realising it, he is quoting the first century Jewish rabbi Hillel: 'If I am not for myself then who is for me? And if I am only for myself then what am I? And if not now, when?'

Cafe 2

There are no raids by soldiers that night, and slowly the cafe fills up. Everybody is incredibly friendly as usual, and we chat in Arabic and English. People sit around playing cards or pool. Since I am not very good at either of these, I sit and watch them, write in my notebook and chat to Mosa and his friends. Mosa is incredibly generous. He won't let me pay for anything I have, although it is his job, it is his livelyhood. 'Tonight you are my honoured guest', he tells me.

I talk to a man in his thirties or forties, who is wearing a t-shirt with a Nike tick logo on. He is a taxi driver and has a blue id. Or rather he is a taxi-driver because he has a blue id, since it means that he probably lives in Jerusalem and go back and fore through the checkpoints, between here and Jerusalem and so on into Israel. It turns out that he can speak Hebrew as well as Arabic, and some English. He has probably learnt his Hebrew and English over time through talking to his passengers. He seems very easy going. At one point we are talking and I say something about 'Sunday', and I accidentally say Yom Ichad, which is Hebrew, instead of 'Yom Wachid' , which is Arabic. 'Do you speak Hebew?' he asks me. I hesitate and reply, 'Not really'. I ask him how many people in the bar (there are about 15 by now) have blue passes. 'I am the only one', he replies. Everyone else has a green Occupied Territory pass, which means that they cannot go to Jerusalem a few miles away, certainly cannot go into Israel, and cannot go to Ben Gurion airport if they want to travel abroad - they have to make the long arduous journey to Amman in Jordan crossing the river Jordan and passing through 3 border checkpoints.

I am wondering whether his easy-goingness has something to do with the fact that he has relative freedom of movement and that he gets to meet a lot of different kinds of people in his work - Israelis, tourists from the Europe and America. Which means that for the others who have no such freedom of moment, they are going to be bottled up, frustrated, and will have no real social meetings that will modify the negative images they develop of Israelis on account of the occupation. I must try and explore this theory a bit more, because it is just one more argument against the existence of the wall and the pass system.

Soldiers, a Visit to a Cafe and Zones

Two nights ago I went to the cafe where my friend Mosa works. The cafe is about five minutes walk from where I live, on the main road which goes through Abu Dis then into the next village (Bethany) and then on to Jerusalem. Mosa works there every evening from the time it opens at six until it closes at one.

When I get there at about eight it is empty, only Mosa and one other friend of his. It is a large space, lots of tables, stone floor, television in the corner showing satellite tv - a program about Michael Jackson. There are people talking about him in floods of tears etc. I ask Mosa why there are so few people here tonight. It is because of the soldiers, he said. Earlier, an Israeli military vehicle had pulled up outside the cafe and had been stopping people on the road, demanding to see their ids. It is very frequent for soldiers to come into cafes, line everybody they find including staff outside and inspect their papers. Usually the process is very drawn out and can take an hour. Of course, during that time the cafe does no business at all. These cafes, where men especially young men come and socialise are particular targets of the soldiers, perhaps because they see them as centres of subversion, danger, resistance etc. Mosa told me that this week the soldiers had been particularly active in his cafe, coming in every day. He of course is bundled out with the rest of them and the cafe takes in no money during the process. I ask him how many soldiers come. 'About 20', he says. One day the captain remained behind and sat down at a table. 'I just want to see how you work', he told Mosa. 'I don't work', Mosa replied. I have taken my passport with me just in case. If I am caught up in a search I am going to have to produce it as id. Everybody else will have green or blue passes. I am wondering what difference my UK passport will make, or the name in it Solomon, whether it will make things 'better' or 'worse' for me.

A digression on zones:

If this is part of the Palestinian Territory which is supposed to be self-governing, how is it possible for Israeli soldiers to be here?

As I have mentioned before the West Bank - the area of Palestine occupied by the Israelis since the 1967 war - is not a single unified territory. Under the terms of the 1993 Oslo accords, it is divided into 3 zones A, B, and C. Zone A is the part under the control of the Palestinian Authority based in Ramallah, which was set up to be the first step towards a Palestinian state. Zone B is under the control of the Palestinian authority as far as ordinary government is concerned, but policing is under the control of the Israeli army. Zone C is off closed to Palestinians completely. Then there are the Israeli settlements, which are scattered all over the territory. The main settlement near here is Ma'ale Adumim which bends around Abu Dis to the east. And there are also checkpoints all over the territory that can make even a short journey as the crow flies lengthy or slow, if there are tail backs, or if the soldiers there decide to take their time. And also roads for the use of settlers only.

Abu Dis is in Zone B, which means that there are Israeli soldiers here who as I have said, carry out raids of cafes regularly. My housemate Sarah told me a story about the brother of a friend of hers, a teenager who was hit by a soldier for not having his id on him. Khalid, the young student I befriended also told me that if a kid throughs a stone at a military vehicle (apparently this is quite a common thing - young male teenagers tend to do this quite often), soldiers will catch and beat a teenager even if it not the one who threw the stone, to encourage the others I suppose.

Outing for the students from the Community Centre

Today we went on an outing with the students from the Dar Al Sadaqa Community Centre. They enrol for what is called Summer Camp, which is a program of activities taking place six days a week from 9.00 am to 1.00 or 2.00 pm throughout July and into August. Volunteer teachers teach them English, Dabke (a Palestinian folk dance), Drama, sometimes video-making, and sometimes we go on outings.
Actually we are very short of money. Students pay 25 Shekels (Israeli money is used here) for a month, which equates to about to about £4 from each student, and that is the amount of money we have available. A lot of creative thinking is necessary. Our excursion today was to a Fire Station, which was an open space with one fire engine, and a fireman who demonstrated how the engine and the hoses worked. Then we walked to Al Quds university to a park and cafe there.

Goats at Mousa's Grandparents' House

When I visited Mousa's grandparents' house, they had a shed full of young and old goats.

Amazing griffiti on the wall

Here is an example of some of the graffiti left by townspeople, volunteers and other visitors here.

This is another picture of the wall that dominates everything in this town. I don't know if I have already mentioned this but Khalid, the student I met on Monday, told me that when the wall was being built four years ago, the people of Abu Dis and the neighbouring town of Eizaria were confined to their houses for two or three days, only being allowed out for a couple of hours each day to buy food, so that the construction enginers could finish their work.