I was going to write about my calm, easy, lush existence in Ramallah, cigarettes smoked, alcohol drank, friends met, and a bad Palestinian hip hop concert. I was going to write about the kindness and insight of the family that has taken me in (the Nasars), and about seeing Wael my Palestinian classmate in his natural habitat. I was going to write all of this. I may do it tomorrow. For now I want to write about today.
Things aren’t the same, you know, as what you think they are. Or if they are, it’s much bigger, it’s much worse, and much more glorious than you imagined. I wish I could write about everything that happened today. The soldiers. the Shibab, the police, the Israeli commander saying into the Israeli news camera ‘yes all you ‘activists’, you got paid by the Palestinians’, me telling jokes to a line of 18 year old kids with guns “so, there were these two cows in a field…” , while I held a sign that simply said ‘Violence IS Terror’. In Beit Ummar, then one that said ‘Oslo Agreement,’ with ‘violated’ in red spray paint across it in Al Masara. The feel of the wind next to the olive tree groves, and the sweeping lands, as we drank water and waited to begin, as the afternoon call to prayer wafted through the air. The people I have met. I wish I could. Instead here are some pictures.