This stretch was 18 km and some of the most stunning scenery. We walked up the mountainside and saw Canaanite wells (or rather man-made reservoirs) which the Romans also used when they came to this land. You can see all the way across to the River Jordan (and glimpse the Israeli settlements strung out on the hilltops). John, one of our group of 6 has taken fabulous pictures (much better than mine) and you'll find them on this link. There were wildflowers in profusion - red anemones, pale lilac cyclamen, tiny blue irises and many many more I couldn't even hazard a guess at identifying. Also all among the stones, clumps of common thistle (natsh which Raja Shehadeh in his wonderful Orwell Prize-winning book Palestinian Walks says was probably used for the crown of thorns). There were also tortoises and millipedes along the way. http://tinyurl.com/Masar20110306
Sunday, 13 March 2011
Thursday, 10 March 2011
our first hosts
Awarta was our first destination on the trail and our first overnight stop. High on a hilltop overlooking a beautiful valley with Nablus spread out down below (and settlers and settlements and settlement roads spread out on the surrounding hilltops). Our host family was gorgeous - children, siblings, parents - all delighted to see us, full of warmth and welcome. Our sleeping quarters were on a roof top. Bit of a shock initially as we'd only met as a group that morning and found we were all sleeping in the one room (which was OK) with see-through curtain to bathroom. We had a marvellous evening, eating together on the roof under the stars with our male hosts (the women don't join mixed groups of strangers at meals). Children chortling and cavorting like puppies. Very good conversation with our unusual hosts. The eldest son joined us and his father said he needed to work hard to go to university. I asked him what he wanted to do and he said medicine, in Germany. This will of course need substantial funding from elsewhere.
But we insisted on meeting the host's brother's wife (sorry but everyone lives together as extended family) who'd prepared our delicious food. She was initially shy but then after some prompting from her husband showed us her marvellous embroidery. I asked if I could buy a piece as a wedding present for friends in Ireland. She insisted I take it as a gift, I insisted I pay and in the end got my way. She was very thrilled and when we left kissed me.
The villagers get regular hassle from settlers - the latter claiming that a site within the village is a Jewish tomb. Our hosts say it isn't but they break in at night a couple of times a week. There's a military base at the bottom of the hill but never any come-back on the settlers. I forgot to say earlier that Palestinians have to make complaints to the military who then pass them on to the police who deal with the settlers (by which time they're long gone..)
But we insisted on meeting the host's brother's wife (sorry but everyone lives together as extended family) who'd prepared our delicious food. She was initially shy but then after some prompting from her husband showed us her marvellous embroidery. I asked if I could buy a piece as a wedding present for friends in Ireland. She insisted I take it as a gift, I insisted I pay and in the end got my way. She was very thrilled and when we left kissed me.
The villagers get regular hassle from settlers - the latter claiming that a site within the village is a Jewish tomb. Our hosts say it isn't but they break in at night a couple of times a week. There's a military base at the bottom of the hill but never any come-back on the settlers. I forgot to say earlier that Palestinians have to make complaints to the military who then pass them on to the police who deal with the settlers (by which time they're long gone..)
Wednesday, 9 March 2011
Jacob's Well and Balata Refugee Camp
Jacob's Well (sorry as we're not up on our Bible can't remember what was supposed to have happened here) but it's situated within the most enormous and opulent Greek Orthodox Church. Somebody must have spent a fortune on it. Anyway we were told the depth of the well (but can't remember that either) except to say the guide poured some water down and we had to wait for what seemed like an age for it to reach the bottom. We pulled some up in a bucket and each drank cold clear water from the holy well. Then all trooped off to the well-appointed loos.
Almost immediately opposite is Balata Refugee Camp, an area of 1 sq km, established around 1950 for 5,000 people. Initially there were tents but after a few years the UN built small dwellings. I've got a photo of the original ones (which form the base of present dwellings): each one measured 3 x 3m, irrespective of family size. The camp's now home to 25,000 with no increase in ground area. Roads have been sacrificed for building space and homes are packed so tightly together that there is absolutely no privacy and our guide said people don't refer to those next door as neighbours, but as family. My photos which I'll post later will show you but anyone reading this who lives in Exeter and knows Parliament Street (narrowest street in UK) will know what I mean. And of course having to build upwards shuts out any light.
Our guide told us his family's story which typifies the general plight - his grandfather was a relatively wealthy man in Haifa with restaurants and a hotel. After the nakba he fled with his heavily pregnant wife, leaving all behind. They walked to this area and found refuge in a cave where his mother was born in August 1948. They lived in this cave for a year. He said his mother had had a very hard time, with little or no medical attention in her life and now looks 90 (she's 3 years younger than me..) The camp has 1 doctor, 1 dentist and a couple of nurses for the whole population so can do little more than general check ups. If surgery or more complicated treatment's needed they have to go to hospital in Nablus or beyond and pay two thirds of the cost (UN paying the rest).
He said life during the 2nd intifada was grim (2001-4) - locked gates, no exit for education or work, curfews inside the camp, people unable to leave their houses and others shot for simply looking out of a window. All economic structure within the camp and Nablus were destroyed. We can have absolutely no idea of what this does to the mental state of the inhabitants, especially the young.
Almost immediately opposite is Balata Refugee Camp, an area of 1 sq km, established around 1950 for 5,000 people. Initially there were tents but after a few years the UN built small dwellings. I've got a photo of the original ones (which form the base of present dwellings): each one measured 3 x 3m, irrespective of family size. The camp's now home to 25,000 with no increase in ground area. Roads have been sacrificed for building space and homes are packed so tightly together that there is absolutely no privacy and our guide said people don't refer to those next door as neighbours, but as family. My photos which I'll post later will show you but anyone reading this who lives in Exeter and knows Parliament Street (narrowest street in UK) will know what I mean. And of course having to build upwards shuts out any light.
Our guide told us his family's story which typifies the general plight - his grandfather was a relatively wealthy man in Haifa with restaurants and a hotel. After the nakba he fled with his heavily pregnant wife, leaving all behind. They walked to this area and found refuge in a cave where his mother was born in August 1948. They lived in this cave for a year. He said his mother had had a very hard time, with little or no medical attention in her life and now looks 90 (she's 3 years younger than me..) The camp has 1 doctor, 1 dentist and a couple of nurses for the whole population so can do little more than general check ups. If surgery or more complicated treatment's needed they have to go to hospital in Nablus or beyond and pay two thirds of the cost (UN paying the rest).
He said life during the 2nd intifada was grim (2001-4) - locked gates, no exit for education or work, curfews inside the camp, people unable to leave their houses and others shot for simply looking out of a window. All economic structure within the camp and Nablus were destroyed. We can have absolutely no idea of what this does to the mental state of the inhabitants, especially the young.
Nablus
Our delightful and informative guide Mohammad drove us from Jerusalem to Nablus using the old roads so we could see the ancient caravan routes. We stopped at a vantage point to admire the view and an old woman in wonderfully colourful dress appeared. Her land was just down the slope but she had constant harassment from settlers and frequently had to appeal to the Israeli military for help. M explained that because of historical circumstances there exist 5 forms of law re land and property - Ottoman, Jordanian, Palestinian, British and Israeli. The Israelis choose which suits. There's an Ottoman law which says if you haven't worked your land for 7 years it becomes the property of the state. So this is what the settlers are trying to bring about.
On to Nablus and a tour of the old city - Shechem - its Old Testament name. Evidence of 800 year old houses bulldozed during the second intifada so that tanks could get through! Visited an old soap factory, another making sweets, a fantastic spice store and then on to the hamam. Much sweet tea and welcomes everywhere. At the entrance to the sweet store I bumped into Alessandra, an Italian Londoner whom I'd met two years ago. Mohammad then took us to see the preparation of kenafeh and sample this local speciality. It's a sort of pancake, the base of which is made with flour I think but it's yellow and looks more like grain, then on top they put goats cheese. When one side's done (and the whole thing is huge) they flip it over and pour syrup over. We watched a stream of people coming to buy slices. The turnover is non stop during the day. It's absolutely delicious.
On to Nablus and a tour of the old city - Shechem - its Old Testament name. Evidence of 800 year old houses bulldozed during the second intifada so that tanks could get through! Visited an old soap factory, another making sweets, a fantastic spice store and then on to the hamam. Much sweet tea and welcomes everywhere. At the entrance to the sweet store I bumped into Alessandra, an Italian Londoner whom I'd met two years ago. Mohammad then took us to see the preparation of kenafeh and sample this local speciality. It's a sort of pancake, the base of which is made with flour I think but it's yellow and looks more like grain, then on top they put goats cheese. When one side's done (and the whole thing is huge) they flip it over and pour syrup over. We watched a stream of people coming to buy slices. The turnover is non stop during the day. It's absolutely delicious.
Friday tides
Approaching the Western Wall/Al Aksa Mosque/Dome of the Rock we battled the tide but were turned back by Israeli soldiers. No tourists, Muslims only, on Fridays. So we walked up and down the Via Dolorosa and lit a candle for K in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Waves of Xtian 'pilgrims' kissing the floorstones. (Mon Pere who we bumped into later on his way to the C of the H S jovially referred to the holy shebang as a 'souk'). Early evening retreat to the same cafe at the Damascus Gate, watched the tide of Orthodox Jews going to the Wailing Wall. An amazing assortment of hairstyles, garb and head gear. (Did Bob Dylan get his 'leopard skin pillbox hat' image from here?) Then later the tide returned with two devotees in full black outfits, toting their sub machine guns slung over their shoulders!!! They were accompanied, on the double, by a couple of uniformed IDF. I've got a blurry photo as they were moving fast.
Watched in dismay as the Israeli soldiers at Damascus Gate hustled an elderly Arab woman selling herbs out of the way as the Jews were hurrying to prayers. One week later, but Friday mid-day, she was allowed to stay in her spot as the Muslims were hurrying to their prayers.
happy clappy Xtians!
Our little hotel was full of them! Dutch, with much praying on the terrace at breakfast, lots of laying on of hands and 'amens'. Later, in the lounge where we thought we'd escaped for a bit of peace, we were regaled with a long explication of Christianity by a self-confessed Dutch missionary talking up the gospels to a young Japanese guy. There were some wonderful bits of misunderstanding through 'lost in translation' moments. It was a bit like Life of Brian. We were assured that salvation only came through Jesus and if you found him you found the route to God and therefore Heaven. Heaven help us indeed! We had to beat a hasty retreat.
some good conversations
At least half the passengers on our flight to Tel Aviv were Orthodox Jews - a lot of praying went on both at the departure gate, and on board. So we were wary initally of talking to our neighbour. But as he was reading Wilkie Collins' The Moonstone and in 'mufti' we asked him if our request for Israeli visas to be stamped on separate paper (rather than inside our passports) should be in Hebrew. He replied "they're not very enlightened but they do speak English". So we knew we could speak freely from then on! He said he was apprehensive about returning, as a gay guy who'd lived abroad for some time. His parents' home was near Gaza. He'd done film studies so we spent the rest of the journey talking cinema and favourite directors. If he ever reads this it was sheer delight and by the way, don't forget Robert Bresson!
We found our little Palestinian hotel, dumped our stuff and headed for the Damascus Gate for a drink. A Palestinian cafe, great vantage point good atmosphere and delicious (but expensive) Taybeh beer. Got talking to a French Catholic priest who confessed to a taste for arak. He was a Provencal, with a jolly disposition and a liking for his native cuisine. Alas he'd been to England as a teenager (Royston of all places) to improve his English. He said food and weather was 'orrible! He didn't mind talking to atheists and didn't give us any religious guff. He was going to spend the following night in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and asked us if we knew who unlocked and locked the church each day? Any guesses? Muslims! That's because the Christians can't agree amongst themselves who has the right/privilege in the pecking order.
We found our little Palestinian hotel, dumped our stuff and headed for the Damascus Gate for a drink. A Palestinian cafe, great vantage point good atmosphere and delicious (but expensive) Taybeh beer. Got talking to a French Catholic priest who confessed to a taste for arak. He was a Provencal, with a jolly disposition and a liking for his native cuisine. Alas he'd been to England as a teenager (Royston of all places) to improve his English. He said food and weather was 'orrible! He didn't mind talking to atheists and didn't give us any religious guff. He was going to spend the following night in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and asked us if we knew who unlocked and locked the church each day? Any guesses? Muslims! That's because the Christians can't agree amongst themselves who has the right/privilege in the pecking order.
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