raining in the city
flyingears
Today the rain has eased up a little, although it has still been raining most of the day. I have started teaching a few classes, although several have been cancelled because of the weather. With the rain and cold has come a couple of short bursts of hail. Weather….people talk about it everywhere in the world, I think.
I hope to get a few photography classes started soon. The idea is for people in Askar and Balata camps to use some cameras I brought with to take photographs. Very straight-forward. I did this when I was here last year and it worked well, I think, and the individuals involved really seemed to enjoy it. This time I have brought with reusable cameras (whereas last time the cameras were single-use, disposable cameras) so that the kids and adults involved can take more than one roll of photographs, view the developed pictures, and hopefully, after looking at and discussing their photographs, learn more about what they think works well in photography. And then go out and take another roll and see how this process affects their pictures.
Other than a few things like that, I have been busy eating pita bread and hummus. And falafel. And avocadoes. And trying to learn a little more Arabic ('a little more' shouldn't be difficult because I know almost nothing anyway).
Project Hope has, just a couple days ago, opened an office in a building near the city center. This is also where I am staying. So, the volunteers, both local and international, have been busy getting things ready there.
Two nights ago, I went with Jeremy, another international, to visit a family he is friends with who live in the old city. The rain was torrential. Once we reached the more enclosed old city, we were more sheltered from the cold rain, although it still poured down in waterfalls over the edges of the various roof structures covering the narrow, winding, maze-like streets. After walking through the city streets, ancient and solid, we climbed some stone stairs and arrived at the house of our destination. It was a beautiful snug house, perched above the cobblestones of the streets below. I met the missus and, later, the mister of the house and their youngest boy. Their two elder boys were both in Israeli prisons, serving five and twenty year sentences. We drank coffee and tea and ate delicious mamoul and a freshly made, very wonderful dish, the name of which I don't remember. It was made with bread stuffed with spinach. Olive oil glistened on my fingertips after eating several of them. And fresh fruit, too. It is hard to describe the kindness and sincerity of the hospitality I encounter from so many people here, strangers in the beginning.
A few nights ago, when I was still staying in the previous apartment before I moved into the new space, I awoke at about three a.m. to the sound of gunshots outside. Israeli military vehicles passed on the road beneath the windows and I could see the light from the headlights on the wall of the bedroom. The gunfire lasted, sporadically, for about an hour (at least this is when I fell back asleep). From what I have been told, the military comes into the city almost every night. This seems to be the case; most nights there is gunfire. So far, I haven't seen tanks invading in daylight like last time but I guess this is still basically the norm. Apparently there was a large invasion about two weeks ago.
From talking with people on the street, it seems that many are wary of Abbas; they fear that he will do whatever Israel and the United States say. I met a doctor in Askar camp a couple days ago. He had spent about seven years in India studying and he is the only person in the West Bank who practices alternative medicine. He had an offer and opportunity to go to the U.S. for his work, were he would have made a lot of money, but he declined. He told me that he is needed here. 'The situation here,' he said, 'is shit.' He invited me up to his place and we drank tea and talked. He brought his three children, all very young girls, in to meet me. They were so shy, smiling and ducking their faces behind their father's back. Finally one of them, the oldest—maybe seven, said hello and told me her name.
We talked about all kinds of things—medicine, traveling, religion, the occupation, world politics, family. We talked about the war in Iraq, about hatred of America. He told me that Palestine is not just struggling against Israel, he said the fight is against America. And we talked about humanity and the inherent sameness of all people. He told me about an Indian proverb that he had learned. It was something like 'whether you are against it or you support it you are in the game. play it.' He told me that if I ever was sad or lonely while I was here that I should come back over and we'll have tea.
And it continues to rain. People keep telling me that it might snow this night or that, but so far it hasn't happened.
Today the rain has eased up a little, although it has still been raining most of the day. I have started teaching a few classes, although several have been cancelled because of the weather. With the rain and cold has come a couple of short bursts of hail. Weather….people talk about it everywhere in the world, I think.
I hope to get a few photography classes started soon. The idea is for people in Askar and Balata camps to use some cameras I brought with to take photographs. Very straight-forward. I did this when I was here last year and it worked well, I think, and the individuals involved really seemed to enjoy it. This time I have brought with reusable cameras (whereas last time the cameras were single-use, disposable cameras) so that the kids and adults involved can take more than one roll of photographs, view the developed pictures, and hopefully, after looking at and discussing their photographs, learn more about what they think works well in photography. And then go out and take another roll and see how this process affects their pictures.
Other than a few things like that, I have been busy eating pita bread and hummus. And falafel. And avocadoes. And trying to learn a little more Arabic ('a little more' shouldn't be difficult because I know almost nothing anyway).
Project Hope has, just a couple days ago, opened an office in a building near the city center. This is also where I am staying. So, the volunteers, both local and international, have been busy getting things ready there.
Two nights ago, I went with Jeremy, another international, to visit a family he is friends with who live in the old city. The rain was torrential. Once we reached the more enclosed old city, we were more sheltered from the cold rain, although it still poured down in waterfalls over the edges of the various roof structures covering the narrow, winding, maze-like streets. After walking through the city streets, ancient and solid, we climbed some stone stairs and arrived at the house of our destination. It was a beautiful snug house, perched above the cobblestones of the streets below. I met the missus and, later, the mister of the house and their youngest boy. Their two elder boys were both in Israeli prisons, serving five and twenty year sentences. We drank coffee and tea and ate delicious mamoul and a freshly made, very wonderful dish, the name of which I don't remember. It was made with bread stuffed with spinach. Olive oil glistened on my fingertips after eating several of them. And fresh fruit, too. It is hard to describe the kindness and sincerity of the hospitality I encounter from so many people here, strangers in the beginning.
A few nights ago, when I was still staying in the previous apartment before I moved into the new space, I awoke at about three a.m. to the sound of gunshots outside. Israeli military vehicles passed on the road beneath the windows and I could see the light from the headlights on the wall of the bedroom. The gunfire lasted, sporadically, for about an hour (at least this is when I fell back asleep). From what I have been told, the military comes into the city almost every night. This seems to be the case; most nights there is gunfire. So far, I haven't seen tanks invading in daylight like last time but I guess this is still basically the norm. Apparently there was a large invasion about two weeks ago.
From talking with people on the street, it seems that many are wary of Abbas; they fear that he will do whatever Israel and the United States say. I met a doctor in Askar camp a couple days ago. He had spent about seven years in India studying and he is the only person in the West Bank who practices alternative medicine. He had an offer and opportunity to go to the U.S. for his work, were he would have made a lot of money, but he declined. He told me that he is needed here. 'The situation here,' he said, 'is shit.' He invited me up to his place and we drank tea and talked. He brought his three children, all very young girls, in to meet me. They were so shy, smiling and ducking their faces behind their father's back. Finally one of them, the oldest—maybe seven, said hello and told me her name.
We talked about all kinds of things—medicine, traveling, religion, the occupation, world politics, family. We talked about the war in Iraq, about hatred of America. He told me that Palestine is not just struggling against Israel, he said the fight is against America. And we talked about humanity and the inherent sameness of all people. He told me about an Indian proverb that he had learned. It was something like 'whether you are against it or you support it you are in the game. play it.' He told me that if I ever was sad or lonely while I was here that I should come back over and we'll have tea.
And it continues to rain. People keep telling me that it might snow this night or that, but so far it hasn't happened.
posted by matt iv at 7:54 AM
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