It is a sunny, warm Fall day in Beit Sahour, and I took the day off by not joining the group's tour of Hebron where I have been many times. I needed to write, and for that I need to concentrate. I will go back to day one.
October 7 - My first morning at the Austrian Hospice in the Old City of East Jerusalem I sat at the breakfast table with a young blond woman from Ireland who is teaching piano at the Edward Said National Conservatory of Music's Nablus campus. So I started to think about connecting her with Mohammed and PHF. She lives in Ramallah, and commutes 5 days a week to Nabus. I told her about PHF and she said she would welcome the possibility of volunteering her skills. Later, I gave her info to Mohammed, who was also pleased with the prospect of bringing another resource to PHF.
After breakfast I started my chores of renewing my 2 cell phones (one for Israeli-controlled E. Jerusalem and one for the West Bank telecommunications system) and changing money. My usual money changer was no longer there, so I had to accept whatever rate I was offered at another place. Oh well. My Palestinian newspaper man was not in his stall due to the Jewish holiday of Shucrot (sp?)which interrupted publication of the English language Ha'aretz and International Herald Tribune.
When finally free to enjoy the rest of the day, I wandered around the Old City. First I stopped to greet the man who runs a small shop selling lose cookies and candies. He surely makes a meager income from this place, but is always pleased to see me and chat a little about the occupation and U.S. politics, and I am always pleased to pick out about 10 of the most interesting or yummy cookies which serve as my snack food for a few days. From there I strolled along the bustling market street, trying not to bump into too many people or carts using the same narrow space. This took me through the Muslim Quarter and on into the Christian Quarter. I ignore the souvenir shops as they change from Palestinian Muslim to more Christian trinkets, and anyway I am not wanting to buy anything, now that I have already found a bracelet that identifies me as favoring Palestine. I walked slowly, taking in the products of ordinary life, from kitchen utensils to meat to vegetables to clothes.
At a crossroads I take a right turn and decide to seek a small museum I have visited before. It is harder than ever to locate it, as its single door to an old residence is almost hidden by the shops on either side. I ask a shopkeeper for help, find the place and ring the bell. Luckily, someone is there and buzzes me in, even though they usually only open by appointment. This is Mujoud Cultural Center & Museum under the auspices of the Arab Orthodox Society, the Greek Orthodox Patriarchate of Jerusalem and the Waqf of Jerusalem, and it preserves many artifacts and photos from Palestinian life before 1948. The director, Noura Kort, knows the history of each object and the value of protecting her heritage in this way. I ask about the space behind the museum, and she shows me that it is still there - about an acre of open land (!) that at one time was a water reservoir serving the whole community including the Patriarch's private bath which was adjacent to the pool. The water was piped in from the beautiful Suliman Pools, a few kilometers away, now an archeological treasure that is in ruins.
In 1967, when Israel occupied and illegally annexed East Jerusalem, it drained this pool and left it empty, to fill up with garbage until last year. Finally, the museum's supporters prevailed upon the Jerusalem Municipality to clean up the lot, and it now appears as bare land surrounded by apartment buildings on all sides. If my technological skills and time allowed I would insert a photo here for you to better appreciate the victory it is that this tiny enterprise has managed to keep this space out of settlers' hands. Noura comments that Obama has not deserved the Nobel Peace Prize and it should be revoked. She tells me, by way of criticizing U.S. policies, that yesterday a U.S. bomb killed a leader of the Kurds whom we are supposedly supporting against ISIS. In contrast to this behavior she tells me the story of the first Muslim conqueror of Jerusalem, Omar, who had the option of enslaving and/or killing the captured Christian population or taking a nonviolent approach. He chose the latter, and signed an agreement which is still visible on a stone monument, that Christians could continue to live and practice their religion under his rule if they would pay a tax or tithe. In his wisdom, he refused the invitation to enter the Church of the Holy Sepulchre to pray, as he knew this would set a dangerous precident. Instead, he picked up a stone, threw it some meters away from the Church, and built a mosque on that spot.
As I walked back towards the Austrian Hospice, a shopkeeper stopped me, saw my bracelet, and wanted to talk. Usually this is a trap to get you to buy something, but somehow he communicated an honest desire to chat, so I accepted his invitation to enter his store and sit down. After about 10 minutes of reviewing the politics of the occupation, he said was impressed and surprised by how well informed I am. He hoped I would stop by again, and maybe I will.
At this rate, I will never get though my jounal, but I love to tell you these stories, and I hope they make Palestine and Palestinians become real to you. To be continued.
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