Life Goes On

I am finding that in the few free moments I have to sit down and write about my time here in Palestine, I am at a loss of words. Perhaps because it takes too much mental, emotional and spiritual energy to write about my experiences here. When I first arrived, I wanted to shout about all the injustices I see here , to expose what is really happening on the ground: what the rest of the world just can't see through such the limited lenses of the media. But it gets harder and harder to only speak the oppression and the suffering without rejoicing in the beauty of the people and the culture here in Palestine that cannot be marred by the ugly wall that closes in on all sides.

Everyday I wake up to a rooster and the man yelling "caik caik! ...caik caik!" outside my window. I sit and have delicious thick-as-mud coffee with my host mom before heading out for the day. By the time I huff and puff up the gigantic hill that takes me to the old city of Beit Sahour, I meet the "caik" man pushing his cart of bread and a woman sitting on the ground with a spread of grape leaves for sale. I hold my breath through the alley where they keep chickens and sell fakous (a mix between a zucchini and a cucumber, famous here in Beit Sahour). This week I bought a kilo of fakous for 5 shekels and brought them in to the clinic for the staff- just a meager offering for their continued kindness- they are constantly giving me food and tea.

After spending the morning at the clinic, I catch a rickety old bus up to the Bethlehem bus station and then hop in another shared taxi to get the Bethlehem Bible College where I have Arabic class. The heat is sometimes unbearable sitting shoulder to shoulder in that taxi... and perhaps I feel slightly more claustrophobic as we loop around next to the Wall and the Azzeh Refugee Camp that houses thousands within a half square kilometer. I find that you can't quite escape from the presence that wall , the watchtowers and the graffiti that continually asks "Where is the Peace?"

I love walking through the market from the bus stop in Beit Jala to Manger Square in Bethlehem. I don't have to buy anything, but just to walk through and take in the sights and sounds and smells is enough. When I practice speaking Arabic with shopkeepers and they find that I am living here in Beit Sahour and volunteering, I am not just a tourist but a friend... By the time I reach Manger Square I am full from sweet tea and coffee and great conversation.

At the clinic yesterday one of the doctors asked me how I find the people of Palestine. I replied that I love the people, that they have welcomed me as family. He said "then you must go home and tell them that we are nice, the Palestinian people. People do not know this."

By: MK - PSE 2008
June 18, 2008