Get some culture
On Friday I had the pleasure of travelling with a group of Palestinian Christians from Jerusalem to the 2nd Birzeit Heritage Festival. Birzeit is a town outside of Ramallah. As with many of the towns and villages in the Ramallah district (including Ramallah itself), Birzeit is historically a Christian town, and the population is now about half Muslim and half Christian. Birzeit is also home to one of the best universities in Palestine.
For the second year in a row, the residents of Birzeit have organized a festival to highlight the rich cultural heritage of the region and of the town. The festival takes place in the old city section of Birzeit, and lovely old homes which date back hundreds of years are transformed into art galleries, exhibition areas, handicraft shops, music venues, and food shops.
There was a plethora of performances, events, and booths to visit. I saw Palestinian art, bought an embroidered cover for my Bible, listened to five young men perform percussion pieces (sweet alliteration, batman!) on water tanks, olive oil drums, and other scavenged instruments, listened to the hip hop group Dam (from Akka, or Acre, in the north of Israel, which is still predominantly an Arab Palestinian city) in the yard of the Catholic church, and more.
The whole time I was accompanied by Lina, a volunteer at Sabeel, who was nice enough to show me around and teach me a few Arabic words as well. I also ran into a friend from Hebron, a shopowner who is a relative of my jailed friend Mousa.
All in all it was a great experience, and a wonderful reminder that the people of Palestine are more than just objects of oppression. The creative swirl of dance, music, art--that power of creation--continues to empower and inspire even in the midst of occupation and injustice. The people of this land are rooted deep, deep like the olive trees after which Birzeit is named. Creation, and even just the simple act of living, is a form of resistance here. The truest form of resistance, in fact--when in the face of that which attempts to darken and destory, people continue to have life, and to have it abundantly.
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On the way back home, our bus passed through Hizma, where a soldier and a heavily armed private security force agent got on the bus and checked everyone's IDs. The private security guy was either a Druze or an Arab Israeli--he spoke Arabic fluently, but man was he pissed. I wonder if he was trying to prove his loyalty or if he was feeling the stress of the tension between so many different identities, the feelings of betrayal and guilt of being part of the oppression of his own people. Who knows. He was especially mad at us internationals, asked us questions about our visas and ripped mine (mine being a pseudo-visa...), which elicted an angry response from me. So, out of a bus of 50 Palestinians, it was me who got pulled off and had to stand outside while my passport number was entered into the computer and a quick check was run on my name and visa number. When I got back on the bus, everyone else applauded.
In the midst of one of the most surreal situations in the world today, it amazes me that people keep their hope, their yearning to create, their sense of humor. Laughter, dance, song. Painting, sewing. Creating.
In the face of so much death, Palestine is still the land that smiles. Even when it weeps.
In the face of so much death, Palestinians remain determined to have life, and to have it abundantly.
In the face of so much nothingness, Palestine is.
"To exist is to resist" reads the graffiti on the wall. And indeed, to be, to live, is the most effective retort imaginable against that which tries to trick us into thinking that we have ceased to live.
For the second year in a row, the residents of Birzeit have organized a festival to highlight the rich cultural heritage of the region and of the town. The festival takes place in the old city section of Birzeit, and lovely old homes which date back hundreds of years are transformed into art galleries, exhibition areas, handicraft shops, music venues, and food shops.
There was a plethora of performances, events, and booths to visit. I saw Palestinian art, bought an embroidered cover for my Bible, listened to five young men perform percussion pieces (sweet alliteration, batman!) on water tanks, olive oil drums, and other scavenged instruments, listened to the hip hop group Dam (from Akka, or Acre, in the north of Israel, which is still predominantly an Arab Palestinian city) in the yard of the Catholic church, and more.
The whole time I was accompanied by Lina, a volunteer at Sabeel, who was nice enough to show me around and teach me a few Arabic words as well. I also ran into a friend from Hebron, a shopowner who is a relative of my jailed friend Mousa.
All in all it was a great experience, and a wonderful reminder that the people of Palestine are more than just objects of oppression. The creative swirl of dance, music, art--that power of creation--continues to empower and inspire even in the midst of occupation and injustice. The people of this land are rooted deep, deep like the olive trees after which Birzeit is named. Creation, and even just the simple act of living, is a form of resistance here. The truest form of resistance, in fact--when in the face of that which attempts to darken and destory, people continue to have life, and to have it abundantly.
------------
On the way back home, our bus passed through Hizma, where a soldier and a heavily armed private security force agent got on the bus and checked everyone's IDs. The private security guy was either a Druze or an Arab Israeli--he spoke Arabic fluently, but man was he pissed. I wonder if he was trying to prove his loyalty or if he was feeling the stress of the tension between so many different identities, the feelings of betrayal and guilt of being part of the oppression of his own people. Who knows. He was especially mad at us internationals, asked us questions about our visas and ripped mine (mine being a pseudo-visa...), which elicted an angry response from me. So, out of a bus of 50 Palestinians, it was me who got pulled off and had to stand outside while my passport number was entered into the computer and a quick check was run on my name and visa number. When I got back on the bus, everyone else applauded.
In the midst of one of the most surreal situations in the world today, it amazes me that people keep their hope, their yearning to create, their sense of humor. Laughter, dance, song. Painting, sewing. Creating.
In the face of so much death, Palestine is still the land that smiles. Even when it weeps.
In the face of so much death, Palestinians remain determined to have life, and to have it abundantly.
In the face of so much nothingness, Palestine is.
"To exist is to resist" reads the graffiti on the wall. And indeed, to be, to live, is the most effective retort imaginable against that which tries to trick us into thinking that we have ceased to live.
