Alastair Mitchell

Bethlehem.

Seeing the same prickly pears and figs in the markets as I did a year ago tells me that my Palestinian year is nearly up.  The seasonality of produce here has been a constant indicator of the passing time, and now the cyclical nature of the seasons means I have reached the end of my adventure.

As I reflect on my experiences of the past year, I struggle to find conclusions.  One of the most difficult situations in which I find myself here is when a local person asks my opinion of the political situation.  As many of you know, I do not easily hold back in expressing this in normal situations, but when I look into the eyes of someone who’s life has been so directly and adversely affected by the occupation of this country, I find it hard to say that I see little or no hope.  Instead I usually blunder around sentences that barely make sense until finding myself back where I started, and hopefully so without actually having said anything much at all.  But a few nights ago when I faced this question, I came to an answer that seemed to be better than this.  Although I knew the situation well before coming here, I said, by living here for a year, I have come to realise that knowing a situation like this from the inside does not help to understand it any better.  I had at last hit the nail on the head.  Living here has not helped me understand.  But how can this be?

It is because one cannot understand this situation.  One can know the history, one can understand the politics, and one can even assume what the motives are on all sides, but this will not lead to an understanding of the entire situation.  And the reason for this is that the situation itself defies logic.  It simply does not make sense that a situation such as this has been allowed to develop, and it simply does not make sense that it should be continuing to this day.  One of the best pieces of wall graffiti I have seen, and there is a lot of competition for that title, is the simple question, simply stated in black letters just around the corner from my house, How can you get away with this?  I am no closer to answering this than I was a year ago, perhaps even farther – perhaps much farther.

Before I came here, I laid the blame for this situation at the door of Israel, the USA and possibly most of all, Britain.  Historically speaking, these are our prime suspects.  But now I would open the list a little wider.  It is surely the fault of everyone, collectively, that something that is a clear injustice by any reading of the so-called moral compass should be allowed to be ongoing.  It should be a weight on the shoulders of us all, that this devastating act of ethnic cleansing is in progress whilst those free to do so, look the other way.

Thank you for reading my blog.

The End.

Bethlehem.

In response to my previous post, not only has a UK supplier of Taybeh beer been found, but also a crate has been delivered to my home in Scotland.  I think this is what is known in the footballing lexicon as “a result”.

Also since my previous post I made the journey from my home in Bethlehem to Taybeh, the small and sleepy village where the beer is brewed.  On the way there we passed through what will be known to many as the biblical town of Bethany, Al Eiziriya.  Located close to Maale Adumim, one of the biggest and oldest (since 1976) Israeli colonies inside the West Bank, and strategically positioned to cut-off the capital city of Jerusalem from the rest of Palestine, one can see why the people of Al Eiziriya may well feel threatened.  The difference in living conditions between these two very different places is obvious, and as with almost all the Israeli colonies, its position atop an overlooking hill adds an element of domination to its appearance.

To add further to the sense of different peoples living within unnatural proximity, a little farther on from the other side of Maale Adumim, one passes an aspect of Palestinian life with which I have not become familiar – Bedouins. These people live only a few kilometers away, but it seems centuries apart. 

As we arrived at the brewery in Taybeh there were some very out of place looking blacked-out SUVs waiting by the door, guarded by large American men with not so subtle looking gun-shaped bulges in the shirts.  After doing the very un-Arab activity of paying attention to a very friendly puppy that seemed to be roaming alone, I asked if we could enter the brewery and was told we could, but that the staff may be busy with a VIP.  After these so-called VIPs had left, Nadim, the manager and founder of the whole Taybeh beer enterprise told us that they were “our friends from the American consulate.  They’re very supportive of our work here.”  It’s a lot easier to be supportive of small business than national interests, I thought to myself.

The beer is brewed according to the German purity laws of 1516, which allow only four ingredients to be used: malted barley; hops; yeast and water.  This means, as with German beers, that no preservatives are used and the beer produced is an entirely natural product.

Should you like to try the beer, and I recommend that you do, it can be ordered in the UK from http://www.thedrinkshop.com/products/productlist.php?text=taybeh.

My final period of work with the conservatory began on the 9^th of July with the Chamber Music Summer Camp, held at Bir Zayt for one week.  It was a challenging week for the students, who were put together into small groups, and given just a few days to learn both their individual parts as well as the difficulties that come with playing together in chamber music.  We chose demanding repertoire for the groups, and I was impressed that by the end of the week all groups were able to perform the repertoire on which they had been working.  We were lucky to be joined by two wonderful visiting musicians in Bin Huang and Alexander Suleiman.

The week was not made easier by the ongoing water shortages in the West Bank.  If one looks out over almost any residential scene in Palestine, water tanks on tops of roofs will be visible.  This is because during the summer months, which are the majority of months here, the water supply is not in operation 24 hours a day.  Far from it, at present it is running only for two or three hours each day, and consequently the tanks are installed so that when the water is turned on the tanks fill, providing you with water until the next time the water is turned on.  This system works well, until the demand is constantly outstripping the supply – and this is what happens when 45 students and 25 teachers all work and live together for a week.  By day two, the water had run out, and plans were made to pump water from the well beside the building up into the tanks.  Unfortunately the pump motor failed, followed by the replacement, before the third motor brought in also failed.  All the while, no water flowed at the Summer Camp.  By the time a tanker was brought to pump water directly to the tanks on the roof three stories above, the water had been off for 24 hours, and in daytime temperatures that are constantly in the 30s, this causes immediate hygiene concerns.  Sure enough, a few upset stomachs (including mine) surfaced, but luckily by the time this happened the water was back – avoiding the possibly course ending scenario of a large outbreak.  The vastly unequal distribution of water between Israeli and Palestinian areas here brought to mind images of Israeli settlers washing their cars, and swimming in their private pools much as the image of an oasis appears before the eyes of the wayward desert traveler.

The one casualty suffering a broken arm was not able to blame her injury on the water shortage, the Israelis, nor anything other than clumsiness, though she did seem impressively serene throughout.  The up-side of all this is that I have now learned the art of showering in the morning using only a 1 litre bottle of cold water, and who knows when that skill may be needed again?

The final concert of the week was the graduation concert of the conservatory, which took place at the Ramallah Cultural Palace and included groups from the Chamber Music Camp as well as the presentation of certificates to the eight students who graduate this year from the conservatory.  From the conservatory, you graduate after completing grade 8 on your chosen instrument as well as passing various other courses such as theory or music history.

A visiting group of jazz musicians from Sweden gave the final performance of the night, alongside the students they had been coaching all week.  The large stage of the Ramallah Cultural Palace filled with our students, as they sang the Roberta Flack song River, was a touching sight.  Although many of the younger students would not have realised the poignancy of the words they sang, for me, as my final moments with these people I have come to think so much of over this year drew to a close, it was an emotional moment, and I confess that in my personal area of the hall at least, there wasn’t a dry eye to be found.

Bethlehem.

The end is nigh.  Having had the final concert of the Bethlehem students at the Peace Centre on Manger Square last night, my full-time scheduled duties are now over.  I still have work to do – organizational, as well as coaching work towards the chamber music summer camp, which begins in around a week and a half – but it feels as if this is the beginning of the end.

The event itself was a success; with a very good audience nearly filling the hall, and showing it’s appreciation of the students’ work through generous applause.

The bi-annual national music competition has begun today in Jerusalem.  Hosted and administered by the conservatory, it is open to everyone and runs all this week.  My students are involved on Thursday, so tomorrow will be spent giving some final lessons.  Most of them don’t need it, having performed the repertoire several times already, but a last-minute confidence-building lesson doesn’t usually do any harm.

I have also recently been planning on the best way to bring home some things that are best not taken through the airport.  Ever since the Israelis intentionally snapped backwards my flat-mate’s flip-open phone having found pictures on it of inside the West Bank, I have been wary of giving them any excuse to damage my property too.  On hearing the tale of them breaking open the phone as they handed it back to him, most people say They can’t do that!  This is the thing – they can, and they do.

I have also been trying to find out whether what has now become my favorite beer– Taybeh, brewed near Ramallah – is available in the UK.  It appears that a few years ago someone was importing it, but with what must have been difficult economics, to say the least, it appears this is no longer the case.  The beer itself is truly one of the finest I have tasted, and were it not for the restrictions on export as a result of the Israeli occupation, I am sure it would be well known around the globe.  Visit www.taybehbeer.com to take a look.  And, of course, if anyone knows of where it is available, do tell!

Bethlehem.

Since my previous post, much has been happening.  At the start of the month one of the piano teachers and I gave recitals in the Jerusalem branch of the conservatory and in the Goethe Institute in Ramallah, as part of a music festival organized by the conservatory, the Barenboim-Said Foundation and Al Kamandjati; all music education groups based here in the West Bank.  Following this, I then spent a week in Bir Zayt coaching our advanced students for a series of orchestral concerts in Jerusalem, Bethlehem and Ramallah.  After a slightly uncertain first performance at the spectacularly well-positioned Mormon’s University in Jerusalem (the backdrop of the stage is completely glass, and looks out over the Old City) the students gained confidence and the final concert in Ramallah was excellent.  It has been nice to observe the orchestra develop over the course of this year, and I hope I’ll be able to return to hear them playing even better next year.

After the orchestra course I had two free days in which to renew my tourist visa, which was due to expire on the 25th.  Normally, I only travel through checkpoints in the afternoon, but in order to make an early start on my way to Egypt I left the house at six-fifteen.  Because this is the time when most of the workers from the West Bank are trying to enter Jerusalem, the checkpoints are very slow at this time, often taking over an hour and sometimes several hours to pass.  Seeing the huge queue tailing back outside of the checkpoint complex and onto the road, I took the decision to go by another route into Jerusalem.  Nonetheless, it still took me over two hours to travel the five kilometres to Jerusalem.  I had forgotten the difference in checkpoints between when tourists and Palestinians use them.  Having been told the horror stories of hours waiting in the sun, and mothers giving birth while trying to get to hospital, some people who come to visit Palestine are pleasantly surprised by the checkpoint experience.  If they travel early however, it is an entirely different experience, and it is not a pleasant one.  To do this every day must wear you down unbearably.

From Jerusalem, I took a bus south to Eilat, where I crossed the border into Egypt and found a hotel.  Conveniently, the hotels in the Egyptian border town of Taba are just a minute or two on foot from the border crossing.  There was a strange juxtaposition in leaving the West Bank in the morning, then sitting at dinner in a resort hotel watching sun burnt British holiday-makers going up for seconds and thirds at dessert.  People-watching at its best.

Despite my now rather crowded passport page showing a year of comings and goings, the following day the border police believed my story without any persuasion necessary and I was quickly re-admitted with a 3 month visa.  After lunch in Eilat, I was back on the bus to Jerusalem and as we neared the Dead Sea a huge pillar of dark smoke grew on the horizon.  Because it appeared to be near the road, I first thought it might be a car accident, but it soon became clear it was far too large for this.  Then as we reached the location of the fire, we saw large areas of burning land.  At 400 metres below sea level, where the air is oxygen rich and the temperature in summer rarely falls much below 40 degrees in the daytime, this place must be constantly ripe for wild fires.

Once home, as I watched the sun set from my balcony in Bethlehem - the same sun under which I had been lying on the Rea Sea coast just hours before - it occurred to me once again how small the distances are here.  If you look at a map, you may be surprised that an area this small has caused so many problems for so many people.  Or, perhaps it is more accurate to say it is surprising that so many people have caused so many problems to such a small area.  When traveling around Egypt, Israel, Jordan and Palestine, one does not sense geographical differences, or even, with the exception of Israel, strong cultural ones.

The differences here are merely man made, but they seem the hardest ones to deal with.

Bethlehem.

I was discussing the American presidential party nominations with an American friend-of-a-friend in a Bethlehem restaurant just two nights ago, and she declared her support for Barack Obama on the basis that he was the most pro-Palestinian of the candidates.  I politely suggested that didn’t mean much, as none of them can be described as any such thing and sure enough, it didn’t take long after securing the Democratic Party’s nomination for him to show his true colours.  Just hours after winning the nomination, and speaking to one of the most forthright of pro-Israel organizations in the US (I’m being polite), the American Israel Public Affairs Council (Aipac), he said that Israel was “unbreakable today, unbreakable tomorrow, unbreakable forever”.

Fine, so far.  Meaningless rhetoric, you could say.  However, the next proclamation was neither meaningless, nor was it mere rhetoric. “Jerusalem will remain the capital of Israel and it must remain undivided.”

I have two complaints with this statement.  One is the intent, which is immoral, the other is its accuracy, which is false.  For something to remain, first it has to be, and Jerusalem simply is not the capital of Israel, and it never has been – this is Tel Aviv.  Jerusalem is also emphatically divided, right through its heart.  So what he meant to say, presumably, was “we will make Jerusalem the undivided capital of Israel.”   And this is a quite different statement altogether, becuase it is one that is an incitement to the further demolition of the tattered remains known as “International Law” which reveal Jerusalem to be occupied land.  Time to track back.

When the UN partitioned Palestine in 1947, Jerusalem was maintained as an internationally administered city due to its unique appeal to Jews, Christians and Muslims alike.  Within the walls of the Old City are important religious sites to all sides, such as the Western Wall, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and the Al Aqsa Mosque.  To give this city into the control of only one side was felt to be too problematic.

As a result of the fighting immediately following the creation of the State of Israel, Jordan took control of the West Bank, and therefore of East Jerusalem and the Old City.  Jump forward 20 years, when during the Six Days War of 1967 Israel occupied Gaza, the West Bank and East Jerusalem and we see at which point in time Israel took control of this land.  History lesson over.

Now, we all know that one is not allowed, according to the now seemingly insignificant document known as The Geneva Convention, to gain territory through acts of war and therefore Israel’s “acquisition” (again, I’m being polite) of this land is illegal.  So how have we come to the point where an American presidential hopeful thinks it is in his electoral interests to claim that a criminal act of war, resulting in an illegal occupation, is a good thing that must be bolstered by making a United Jerusalem the Capital of Israel?  And, what exactly does he have in mind for the rather large number of people who live there who are not Israelis?

What has brought us to this, remarkable, state of affairs, is a thing known as “facts on the ground”.  You will have heard this phrase mentioned from time to time during press conferences debating possible solutions to the “Israel Palestine Conflict”.  When someone says that we must find a solution that takes into consideration the “facts on the ground”, what they really mean is “No, you can’t have your land back, because we’ve gone and built houses for Israelis all over it”.  Whether these houses are right or wrong, legal or illegal is not open to discussion – they are there, and that is enough.

When I hear people in the position of Barack Obama saying things like this, I don’t know whether to be more shocked at his beliefs themselves, or with the fact that these beliefs (and don’t forget they are beliefs which support illegal acts of war) will gain him support in his home country of the USA.  Many people are looking forward to the end of George W. Bush’s spell in the White House on the basis that it cannot possibly get any worse.  Don’t be so sure, no matter who is his successor.

I am reminded of Rudyard Kipling’s poem, My Boy Jack, written in response to the death of his son at the Battle of Loos, during the early days of the First World War.

This poem seems relevant not only because it was written in connection to the First World War, the conflict which long ago sealed Palestine’s fate until now, but because Kipling was correct.  Against the awesome forces he faced, Jack, along with the tens of thousands of others who died in the battle, stood no chance as he went over the top.

And against this wind, and this tide, Palestinians currently also stand no chance.  Though we might accept this fact, we must not accept that Palestine’s fate has been sealed forever - we must realise that it is a case of changing this wind blowing, and this tide.

Bethlehem.

Bethlehem.

As I watched a documentary on television recently about the lives of the various Palestinian families of one particular street in Yaffa (now the Israeli town of Jaffa) - now spread across the globe following their expulsion in 1948 - I felt a new understanding of their loss.  This is because as my time here in Palestine nears an end, I am looking ahead to my future back at home and it seems the farther you go, and the longer you stay away from the place you regard as your home, the closer you feel to it.  This is all well and good whilst on a self-imposed year of adventure or discovery such as mine, but when you experience this longing for home after 60 years of enforced exile it becomes something different.  More than fondly remembering the landscape, and reminiscing over old photographs, more than imagining the smells, sights and sounds of everyday life in the former home, it becomes an identity in itself.  The Palestinians who live outside of Palestine, which hugely outnumber those inside, are perhaps in some ways more Palestinian even than those who managed to stay.  As Joni Mitchell sang in Big Yellow Taxi, “you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone”.

With my departure from the conservatory appearing closer on the horizon, I am also now in the process of planning what I can for next year, so the new teachers can continue as smoothly as possible from where I, and the others also departing have left off.  It is one of the many sad consequences of the situation now in Palestine that few teachers stay for more than a year or two, and is a source of personal regret that I am unable to stay longer.

Some rare good news from the Middle East appeared today, with Lebanon finally electing Michel Suleiman as President after a year and a half of political deadlock.  The seemingly eternal instability of Lebanon had recently led me to believe that once again full-blown civil war was on the way, but now Lebanon’s future lies once again in the hands of the Lebanese.  Whether the countries that like so much to meddle in Lebanon will allow this to remain for long, remains to be seen.

Bethlehem.

The past few weeks have seen the annual practical exams at the ESNCM.  In preparing for these exams the students worked hard on the required music, and now that the exams are out of the way the year can be finished off with the learning of some new repertoire, as well as increased involvement in some of the chamber music groups.  At the end of the year there will be final concerts in each of the three branches, so it is with these in mind that new pieces are chosen, and new chamber groups formed.  This sudden change from working on tried and tested pieces and scales to discovering new music is a breath of fresh air, both for the students and staff alike.

George W. Bush’s recent visit to Jerusalem went by without much notice in the West Bank, and it’s most obvious result for East Jerusalemites was to slow them down on their way around the city.  With his presence, many roads around the centre are closed and in a city that is not particularly well served by good roads, this can have a large impact on the movement of traffic.
His other activity that caught my attention was his speech to the Israeli parliament, the Knesset.  Even by his standards, this was an unusually forthright diatribe that showed his obvious inability to act as a mediator between sides in the Israel and Palestine ‘negotiations’.  His very presence as a guest of one side, to celebrate the joy and history of one side, while ignoring the history and grief of the other on the very day they commemorate their catastrophe came as an acute demonstration of his dedication to only that one side, in this most one-sided of ‘conflicts’.  And when he described Israel as the United States’ closest ally and best friend in the world, and as a homeland for the chosen people, and when he asserted that Israel had worked tirelessly for peace and…fought valiantly for freedom, he added to that demonstration of bias with words of possibly greater bias.  From the perspective, or close to it, of those on the receiving end of Israel’s tireless work, and tireless it certainly has been, these statements come as both surprising and insulting.  They are surprising in that he made them despite his futile attempts to appear balanced in this context, and insulting to those who know they are lies: Israel is not, and has never been, any of the things he describes.

As well as lies, his speech also contained certain aspects of make-believe.  When presenting his vision of a future Israel, he envisioned a Middle East in which Muslims (as if they were the only naughty ones) would recognise the emptiness of the terrorists’ vision and the injustice of their cause, and where Hizbollah, Hamas and Al Qaida (not in reality actually connected, yet) were defeated leaving free and independent societies.  And make-believe this certainly is, for there are no, and nor will there be anytime soon, free or independent societies here – particularly those free and independent of the county he represents.

But none of these comments will arouse much debate, neither here nor outside.  For here they have heard it all before, and in the outside world so used we are to hearing one-sided and unapologetic praise for Israel, the chances are few even noticed.

As the Israeli flags continue to increase in number around Israel in the run-up to the “Independence” celebrations, marking Israel’s 60^th birthday, the absence of the party spirit in Palestine is conspicuous.

The reason for this is that there is no reason to celebrate.  There is no aspect of the dispossession that can be looked back upon with joy.  No, from this side of the Separation Barrier the celebrations appear simply as salt in old wounds, and these are wounds that run deep, both in time and in feeling.  Wounds that have not grown tired with age, unlike their hosts.  The weary Palestinians look back on this particular anniversary with a mixture of sadness and fear - sadness for the past, fear for the future.  At the current trajectory, the 70^th anniversary will be being ‘celebrated’ from substantially worse conditions.

Looking back over the previous sixty years, the overriding sensation is of injustice – sensational injustice.  Also noticeable is the sense of failure.  Failure everywhere from the Palestinians’ failure to mount a successful resistance to Israeli occupation, from Israel’s failure in its original stated aim of creating a ‘safe haven’ for Jews – nowhere in the world is more dangerous for Jews than in Israel today.  When was the last time you heard of a massacre of Jews anywhere else?  After all the discussion, argument and impassioned debate, one question remains – what good has actually been achieved by all of this?  So therefore, what is actually being celebrated?

There is a well known joke that sums up the nature of Jewish holidays – They tried to kill us, they failed, let’s eat!  The same cannot be said for Palestinian holidays, perhaps because they are the ones who actually are being killed.  Slowly, discreetly, definitely.  For them, there is no reason to celebrate, no reason to eat.  The Zionist mantra that Israel was a land without people, for a people without a land has been a self-fulfilling prophecy, true in all but the name.  For it has turned out to be Palestine that will be left without a people, and the Palestinians that will be left without a land.

Jericho.

The 45-minute drive down into the Jordan Valley from the hills of Jerusalem takes you from mountainous to desert landscapes, and brings a typical rise in temperature of around 10 degrees Celsius.  In winter this makes it a great place for a day out in order to escape the cold weather, but even by this time of year it means the Jordan Valley is bordering on uncomfortably hot.  It also takes you to the lowest point on Earth, the Dead Sea.

It is inconceivable to spend a year in Palestine and not float in the Dead Sea, so I decided this would be the time. The strange, no, surreal, experience of the Dead Sea begins when you spot the many elderly and often overweight women rubbing mud on each other.  When one thinks of ladies mud wrestling, this is not the image that might come to mind. 

At first, I felt confident that I would not be seen in such a condition, but as the evidence below shows, the urge to get involved proved too much.  But first, one must float, and in the ultra-salty water of the Dead Sea, once you’re in you do not have any difficulty in achieving this.  In fact, the mineral content of the water in this lowest of seas is so high that the water is actually 33% solid matter.  The classic pose is one with newspaper, so I happily obliged.

On leaving the water, the done thing seems to be covering oneself with mud.  It did feel nice, but once it began to dry the heat of the sun became uncomfortably hot so I quickly showered off then enjoyed an ice cream in the bar.

As we arrived in Jericho, the thermometer on the car was reading 39 degrees and I began to wonder what this place must be like in the heat of summer.  We took the cable car (reassuringly, this is Swiss made) to half way up Mount Temptation - here it is claimed the devil tried to tempt Christ after his 40 days in the desert - where we viewed the monastery built there in the 12^th century.  I would imagine that even nowadays a building project in such a location would provide considerable challenges; quite how this was built at the time is amazing.  The monastery can faintly be seen directly to the left of the cable cars in the following image.

We then spent an hour or so enjoying the fine views over the valley from the terrace of the coffee shop, chatting with some men from Jenin who were taking time out from their course at the national police training centre in Jericho, before descending to visit some of the oldest parts of this most ancient of cities - the original parts of Jericho mark the earliest civilisation in the world.  After dropping off our two new friends at the police training centre, we went into the centre of Jericho to have a spot of lunch – Falafel of course for my vegetarian visitor – before relaxing in a coffee shop, picking up some characteristically small Jericho bananas and heading back up to Jerusalem.