Palestine.

I can only laugh a little thinking about the tossing around I have gone through since the last update. So, I will start where I left off. I was dropped off at the farm by Hannah, Karen and Todd's daughter. I went from listening to soft hip-hop-pop and talking about fashion to shitting in a compost toilet pretty quickly. Those of you who know me well will know which I prefer. Anyways, the farm was incredible. I was greeted with the most delicious tea by Merav, the very pregnant woman who lives at the farm with her partner Bolen. Bolen is a giant frenchman who is crazy. He stomps around and has long hair and smiles hugely and has a raging sarcasm. Also at the farm were three american volunteers. One guy, named Noam, is 19. He is from Queens, and has been studying permaculture (it is a permaculture farm) for about seven months. Also, this really wonderful eco-activist named Shy was building some sort of secret greenhouse experiment on the farm. Mysterious. It was so nice speaking english. Especially with like-minded americans. Americans are a breed of their own. We can't deny it. I realized then that the foundation of my life and life path is honoring and dwelling and seeking those deep relationships where you can really drop out and drop into conversations. It is through these relationships that you learn about the world and yourself. It is life. By the second day the  lingering isolation  was finally fading, I was feeling good. Then, of course, the feather ruffling arrived. It turns out that it is an insurance liability for me to be there due to being under 18. I had to leave. So, I did my general next step sooner; to come to Bethlehem, and volunteer at a Kindersorf Children's Village here. I did enjoy the farm. Eating fresh happy healthy colorful food and being in your body and in the earth all day. 

I crossed the wall in the afternoon. The wall is not a security fence, it is a wall. Full blown and towering. I got through without a problem, and was hit by a mixture of homesickness, relief, and a strange sense of foreignness. Palestine (I am going to call it this, okay?) feels like a separate country. Israel feels like America, Palestine feels like a true other world, another country. My contact came to pick me up, and I was taken to the house of the director of the village and his family, dropped my bags, and then was taken to Bethlehem by a German girl who is working here for a year. She is twenty and speaks perfect English and is nearly fluent in Arabic.

We went to visit friends of hers who own a souvenir shop in the old city. She told me they would offer us tea, and we could stay for a bit. It was four when we arrived, and we left at nine. Long story short, I began talking with Mike, one of the shop owners, about Israel and America and food and life and Palestine. He is a fair skinned (he looks irish, actually the shop was adorned with irish flags, the other shop owner had visited there, an auspicious sign) Palestinian who speaks perfect english. I like him a lot. He is completely Palestinian, born and raised here. He has a thin reddish beard, curling nose, and wheres a tan leather jacket and cowboy-esq boots. Anyways, we were offered another cup of tea and the conversation was moved to a back room where we were joined by two other Arabs, a spanish independent journalist, and the other shop owner. We talked for hours. I felt at home.

My first impressions of Palestinians: There is hostility, because I am american and because I am not staying here for long. It comes in the form of a superficial kindness and some head nodding and sorrow eyes at the words "american" and "a week". There is a rawness to the air that is energizing. Also, more value is placed on relationships, so the hospitality is immediate, but the kindness and openness comes in stages.  It is nice because you then stay curious. Also, the dress and machismo is really similar to that of Mexicans. It is rigid on the outside, and I do feel some animosity. I am listening, and my eyes are being opened to the people. The immediacy of people and moments does not translate to a sense of knowing which side is right. Rather, it imparts a sense of humanity. Everyone is a full developed person. Each one has a story. So, I am learning the grievances and rationales of both sides, but that is nothing new. You can read all that online. What you can't get is the sense that really nobody is right and nobody is wrong (well, actually maybe someone is right?!). What I am getting is all types of persons who want love and family and have emotions and hardships and work to stay alive each day and laugh and cry and then will die at the end of it all. This is a great big family, humans, we are part of all things, and bouncing around like this has widened my sense of person and thus personality. The fact is, people on both sides can't do anything except be people, and really that is what they want to do the most.

Right now, I am sitting in Abu Tamer's house, the director, with a head-high from various sweets and a strong cup of Arab coffee. I am looking at an already smoked hookah pipe, and two girls and their mom lounging in pajamas and flipping on the TV from Arab MTV to Princess Diaries(yes, the one with Ann Hathaway). The house is very small and crowded. I am sharing a room with the older son, who is my age. He is shy and quiet and kind. Perfect. My plan is to stay here doing some serious journalism until Saturday. I will then head to Jerusalem to hopefully see a few people, before leaving early sunday morning with one of the women I met at the farm to go to the dead sea for a few days. I will keep you all posted.

love,

jackson

p.s.

you can view all the pictures from the farm by visiting this link http://picasaweb.google.com/alwaysjackson/Farm#slideshow/5436733522778933394