Things get better, things get worse. Report 1, June 2005.
For some there
was never an Intifada (uprising), it was just a name given to another point
in the series of political ups and downs. For others, it has ended, somewhat
unofficially with Arafat's death. For others, it is still going on; the resistance
movement is far from over. Whichever way one wishes to define the moment now,
things have kind of changed, or maybe not.
It has been two
years since I have been back to the Palestinian Territories. I wasn't sure how
much change to expect, how much would be better, or how much would be worse.
Some things are not surprising: settlements have grown much fatter at the seams;
young women's shirts in Ramallah are tighter and more revealing; more satellite
dishes are present on rooftops; a new multi-million dollar renovation of Ben
Gurion airport.
Other changes
are to be expected, but when seen in reality are actually shocking. Namely the
wall. Two years ago I had to travel in to the Northern parts of rural areas
to find the wall, now it finds me as I walk out the store, in East Jerusalem,
in ar-Ram, in Qalandia, in Bethlehem... If anything has improved, progressed,
grown, become more definitive or solid, it is the wall - or the security fence,
if anyone is still foolish and blind enough to call it as such.
The neighborhood
of ar-Ram has been divided in half, with a wall built in the middle of the main
thoroughway that connects the checkpoints into Ramallah and those into Jerusalem.
Stores have disappeared, closed down from the lack of business. Some are having
their final sales, desperate to make money not because they are retiring or
because new inventory is coming in, but because business has been slow ever
since the wall has been erected. People have had to forcibly move farther into
the West Bank so as to re-establish themselves, their stores, and their homes.
Many houses now along the route of the Wall have a new suffocating and disparaging
view out of the windows and front entrance: slabs of greyness. Even where there
has been little adventure of grafitti by children or bored adults or foreign
peace activists, it only cover a fraction of the greyness since the Wall is
8-meters high.
The checkpoints have changed too. Some have disappeared. No sign of their existence present, as if these country roads have always been empty of threats. Other checkpoints have grown in size, looking more menacing, surrounded by more barbed wire, concrete slabs, Israeli soldiers, chaos… The requirement of permits to travel around has been eased for some, but gotten more restricted for others. Rumor has it that soon, when the Wall will be complete from all fronts, every Palestinian wanting to enter into the walled territories will need an Israeli Civil Administration issued-travel permit.
There's a new
government. The muqataa (compound) is still there, but now it has security guards,
policemen, with guns, a wall around it, an
official entrance, a clean unripped Palestinian flag. Although the bombed buildings
still remain in the muqataa's midst. There's a new
building for the Prime Minister and Council of Ministers. Suddenly, again, after
years of absence, foreign civil servants and diplomats
seem to be in town everyday. Even the British and American ones. Now the PA
(Palestinian Authority) is recognized again. The police force
is slowly inching back into existence. Money is flowing in from abroad. Millions
of dollars are being pledged for countless NGO (non-governmental organizations)
programs: democracy building, gender
equality, capacity building, youth empowerment, the list of jargon
goes on. The Americans have recognized the PA and increased their
funding as well. And not just into the pockets of the NGOs, but on
billboards and in broadcasted advertisements everywhere: USAID, the
largest most notable U.S. government donor to the Territories, is on a
propaganda rampage in the West Bank and Gaza to convince Palestinians
of its noble cause.
Wealth has perhaps occurred. There are new cool and trendy cafes and
restaurants in Ramallah. Some with lush outdoor areas where more young
women than I remember are hanging out, smoking their water pipes.
Often times they're in the company of young men. Some young women are
wearing tighter, more revealing t-shirts and outfits. But there are
also more fully covered women, with with abayyas over everything but
their eyes. Ramallah remains an island of urban and elite life, the
New York or Paris of Palestine. But on its outskirts, beyond its
hills, something else has grown as well: poverty. There are more flour
sacs being distributed, more families living on aid and assistance
programs, more men migrating from the villages into the cities,
looking for work. It's on a small scale, but for a "nation" as small
as this one, the rural migration of men is slowly comparing to the one
in China. They come for the week looking for work, hopefully in
construction, if they are lucky, and try to head home for the
weekends. With jobs in Israel no longer allowed, it is now the
pseudo-urban centers of the Territories that become attractive. An out
of work university professor has capitalized on this and opened up a
simple little restaurant on the outskirts of Ramallah, near the
apartment buildings where these men squat, sometimes up to ten or
twelve in a room. The new restauranteur and his wife spend all day
cooking, selling home-made meals to workers, for the bargain price of
5 shekels (about US$1.25).
Things have inevitably
changed since my last visit. Perhaps they have gotten better. A new crew is
in power, a few cops are trying to maintain traffic control, some politicians
profess peace is near, optimism should be buzzing aplenty, money is flowing
in. There are changes of course, and I'm sure some are positive – however
we wish to measure or qualify… But I can't help but notice how many of
these changes are detrimental to very things that were missing on my last visit:
things that will really bring optimism, wealth, stability, peace. There may
be new chic places to hang out, new ministers and renewed relations. But there's
also a prison wall being completed, dependency being fortified, more children
trying to sell their nimble abilities on the market, more hilltops made off-limits
for the growing settlements. There are a lot more homeless beggars too. For
a country, a culture and a religion in which poverty and begging is close to
sin, it is becoming less surprising to see women digging through the garbage
late at night, looking for food.
Downtown Ramallah and USAID billboards.
The new Mall and the new Wall.