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!