Why the security fence is a separation wall

Seders are the ideal opportunity to think about how any particular experience is different from the typical experience.  Last night, I also spent much of the evening reflecting on overcoming oppression.
Over the last week, I've been thinking a lot about how my most recent trip to Israel and Palestine is different from all my other trips.  I've never traveled with students in Israel and Palestine.  Watching students wrestle with the events, people, and places was rewarding as a teacher.  The students showed an amazing ability to critically engage, reflect on, and talk about challenging topics in a mature and sophisticated manner.
Watching the Israeli and Palestinian representatives from Friends of the Earth Middle East talk about water issues and how they affect both Israelis and Palestinians (and Jordanians) was inspiring. At the same time, I was often dismayed by the increasing difficulty for some other Israelis and Palestinians to talk about the other.  Too often I heard sentences that began with "Israelis are…" or "Arabs are…" or "Those people..."  These generalizations too often obscure a far more complex reality.  As a world history teacher, I often struggle with avoiding these sorts of generalizations, so I tend to be more aware when others use them.  It's not about me judging people, I just notice the generalizations.

The separation wall in Aida Refugee Camp with Palestinian olive trees and the Gilo settlement in the background.

While staring out at the separation wall from the rooftop in the Aida Refugee Camp in Bethlehem, I was struck by how close many Israelis and Palestinians live, but how little contact they have because of the wall between them.  Walls are more than physical structures.  They prevent people from interacting with each other, learning from each other, and knowing each other. The separation wall truly does separate Israelis and Palestinians in a way that the reality of each people become completely unknown to the other.  There's nothing left but the ability to make generalizations.
We need more opportunities for people to interact.  We need more moments for Israelis to rub shoulders with Palestinians, to sit and hear their stories, to learn about their dreams, and to walk along their streets.  We need more moments for Palestinians to rub shoulders with Israelis, to sit and hear their stories, to learn about their dreams, and to walk along their streets.  I had that opportunity on my last trip, which is why it was different from every other trip.  I want everyone to have that opportunity.

Spring Break Palestine 2012

Traveling in Palestine is never simple.  It begins with simply explaining what I mean by Palestine. (For the record, I'm talking about Gaza and everything within the Green Line.) Every day presents a variety of challenges.  There are the simple difficulties of moving from place to place on the most deliberately complicated system of roads ever developed to the spiritual and mental challenges of witnessing the Israeli occupation of Palestinian territory.
Over the last six days, I, and five other teachers, have been chaperoning seventeen students around the West Bank.  It has been one of the most rewarding things I have done as a teacher.  A few of the highlights have been guiding a group of students through the old city of Hebron and letting them witness the most invasive aspects of the Israeli settlement project, watching students learn about the effects of agriculture and waste disposal on the Jordan River Valley and the Dead Sea, and sitting in the Meetinghouse in Ramallah as the students talked about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict from a Quaker perspective with Jean Zaru.
I feel an unbelievable sense of gratitude for being so fortunate to have these experiences and being able to share them with such an amazing group of students.  It would be so easy for a group of American teenagers to spend their spring break relaxing on a tropical beach.  Instead they spent it learning first hand about one of the most challenging and long-lasting conflicts in the world.  I really do have hope for the future.

Entrance to the IDF "Civil Administration for Judea and Samaria"

Young girl in Jifna

Separation wall in Bethlehem with Palestinian olive groves and an Israeli settlement in background

Palestinian girl in Aida refugee camp in Bethlehem

Hebron

Students learning about the water issues of the Jordan River Valley with a FOEME representative

Students preparing mud bricks

Learning about the process of soap manufacture in Nablus

48 Hours in Istanbul

It seems excessive to travel 5,000 miles for a forty-eight hour getaway, and it probably is.  At the same time, it seemed so perfectly logical to get away when I booked the ticket.  

I arrived in Istanbul on Saturday morning.  After dropping my bag at the hotel, I headed right over to Hagia Sophia.  I’ve been there many times, but there had always been scaffolding set up inside.  I finally got a chance to see this 1,500 year old marvel in all its glory.  At that moment, all the travel was completely worth it.  I sat on the cold marble floor staring at the domed ceiling for a half hour, and I couldn’t have been happier. 

I then headed over Beyoglu to visit the Istanbul Modern.  Since I last was in the city in 2006, there has been an explosion in the modern art scene.  Istanbul Modern was a good place to start.  They had a great collection of twentieth century Turkish art, as well as some current exhibits.  The location right along the Bosphoros is also stunning.  I spent the night strolling along Istiklal Cadessi enjoying the shops and the people.  Even though the night was a bit cold, it felt so alive.

On Sunday, I headed back over to Beyoglu to visit Salt, which is another contemporary art space.  I wandered through eclectic exhibits and video installations all by myself.  It was Sunday morning, but it was eerily lonely.  I headed out to santralinstabul in Silahtar, which is part art museum, part science museum, part park, and a couple of restaurants.  They were changing exhibits, so I didn’t get to see much art.  The science museum is housed in the old power building, and it was incredible.  I wandered through old turbines from the early twentieth century amazed by their massiveness.  

I strolled in the park before finishing off my afternoon listening to live jazz in one of the restaurants.   I was sitting next to a 40 year old Pakistani economist who works for a development bank in Istanbul.  He had studied int he United States and became a jazz fan.  We talked about the number of private colleges and universities opening up in Pakistan.  He was refreshingly skeptical about most development projects.  My evening ended with me watching the second half of the Knicks-Mavericks game with a Turkish broadcast.  Somehow it seemed fitting for my whirlwind weekend.