Change, in images...

So, in Egypt, they say there is a revolution going on. 

Sitting in a West Bank newsroom watching the start of that revolution, I don't know about anyone else, but when Mubarak stepped down, I was as much excited for Egypt as I was frustrated for Palestinians. I mean, its not like everyone in Palestine hasn't already taken to the streets en masse to demand their own change. Did Egypt have some secret? Some magic formula? Would they send it on over?

A year and a half after, at least from news reports, the Egyptian revolution started to take on a more familiar tone. It would be a long process of change, with nothing easy, and a tough road ahead where a lot of people would have to make a lot of decisions about what they wanted their community to look like.

So, heading on down to Cairo from Jerusalem, I was curious to see what it all looked like, felt like, smelled like. The one thing that was obvious, was that compared to the grim West Bank where rising cost of living, anger over feeling hamstrung between an occupation, an impotent government, and world system looking the other way was like an anvil being carried around by the sky, there was a certain exuberance in Egypt. (The soundtrack of the car ride down was just the beginning)

The best, best part, was the art. The walls on Muhammad Mahmoud street, had turned into a political forum. So I'll save the words and let the images do the talking. 

Day two: Police presence still strong post protests near the American Embassy, and at some point the night before the walls that had been covered with murals and graffiti were whitewashed. 

Even with the police around, some intrepid painters had already gotten at the fresh canvas.... and dared the police to paint over the walls again.

The things we build

I was at a book launch earlier in the week, for Arthur Neilson's In Your Eyes a Sandstorm, and of course question period focused less on the fascinating ins and outs of the book and his project of collecting Palestinian narratives, and more on "do you think we should be worried that Israel has nuclear weapons." 

Another comment (there were a lot more comments than questions, alas) was on some sociological ground of "removing threats perceived and real" with the idea that this would build trust and make peace possible. 

Then I thought, if I looked at the fences and walls and gates and doors separating Israelis from Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza, I'd start to imagine things were pretty scary on the other side too. 

I mean just look at it:

Thinking about 'freedom'

"take your family to Burger King or for Fried Chicken, and choose any carbonated drink you want, that is your liberty, and no one will interfere with it." 

Ibrahim Nasrallah in

Balcony of Delirium 

The woman on the left of this picture is about to be stopped, searched and questioned by the Israeli soldiers on the bottom right. They will question her while the two international observers (midle right in red and blue) observe. She does not have the freedom to walk from a residential area in the West Bank city of Hebron to the main shopping district without being harassed. 

I'm pretty sure love is not a settlement...

Nosing around an abandoned caravan in a Jewish-only settlement in the occupied West Bank of Palestine -- a settlement that was built on confiscated land and was once used to be home to a camp for lost boys, but had been closed down because of abuse allegations (right? wrap your head around that for a second) -- I found a bright but dusty Charlie Brown book for kids. 

Wait, what? 

Let me tell you the story.

And the wall grows

I went back to Walaja twice this winter. The second time was to show some friends that old olive tree I posted about last time. Its a walk I've done a few times, but this go around I got almost totally lost. 

The wee dirt path that I had followed in times past was now a four-meter-wide three-meter-deep gouge into the hill face. 

Oh, if you didn't know, Walaja is the latest site of construction for Israel's wall. Yes, its still being built. No, its not really for security. The shepherds that cross this hill today and will not be able to cross it tomorrow are not terrorists. They are Palestinians. 

Anyway. 

In looking for the tree my point of reference had always been these two old agricultural buildings just down the hill. When I went back this time, I didn't recognize them. 

Abstractions of loss

I've never been to Gaza.

Its hard for me to imagine a Palestine on the sea.

At the news desk I edited stories about the goings on in Gaza every single day. Right after the morning weather forecast I'd edit the Gaza crossings story, tracking how many grain trucks went in, and how many loads of carnations were allowed out under that single Dutch government initiative that delivered some sort of life support to the dead export economy.

On 26 December 2008 I got a message from my colleague asking that I drop lunch and come into the office, bombs had been dropped on a police graduation ceremony in Gaza City and there were hundreds dead. I was eating a cupcake at the time.