A Wholly Subjective View Of Israel - 25 Years Ago

[rhythmaning]

I haven’t written an anti-racism post yet(though I have before).

But itchyfidgets’ writing about the current situation in Israel made me think of a trip I made to Israel as a teenager, over twenty five years ago. (Some of you may have heard this before; some of you may even have been there.)

My grandfather paid for the trip; he had paid for my brother to visit Alexandria a year or two before, and I think her was hoping I would return from Israel pro-Israeli, if not an out-and-out Zionist.

My friend Gerry and I spent three weeks (more or less) working on an archaeological dig in ancient Jericho – a working holiday – and then a couple of weeks hitch-hiking around Israel. The dig site was run by British academics, but most of the work was done by Palestinian workers (let’s face it, the young Brits were on holiday, ok?), so we were mixing largely with Palestinians; and the hostel we were staying in was in Palestinian part of Jerusalem; plus we had little money, so we went to the cheaper parts of town – that is, the Palestinian neighbourhoods.

We travelled on Palestinian buses, shared taxis with Palestinians, ate with Palestinians. We were given lifts by Palestinians.

We weren’t only with Palestinians; we spent some afternoons with my very hospitable Jewish relatives; a cousin of mine – a young woman of my age, nineteen or so – was looking forward to joining the army so she could protect her country. (Her mother was busily trying to shut her up as she described what she would be doing and why she thought it was right, by kicking her under the table; thing is, she was kicking me.)

We stayed with other, very, very hospitable relatives in Tel Aviv; my family – who had never met me before – could not have been kinder.

We also travelled in Jewish buses and Jewish taxis, and were given lifts by non-Palestinian Israelis.

It was only when we were with Palestinians that we were hassled; we were stopped at road-blocks, we were checked by police; we had guns pointed at us (a couple of times).

As we left a bus in Nablus, a Palestinian rushed up to us and said we had to tell people in the UK what life was like. An Israeli soldier decided this wasn’t a good idea; he forced us back on the bus, and literally told us to leave town. (I hate to say that we did; I still feel like I let the Palestinian guy down.)

I thought Israel was a beautiful country, but wrapped in a very deep sadness. The segregation we saw all around us was what I would have expected of the apartheid regime in South Africa: there were two peoples living side by side, but not living together.

My fundamental feeling was that the Palestinians – who I saw as being put upon and down-trodden, who I saw live with daily indignities and who were not allowed to travel freely – were a friendly people. On many occasions their kindness surprised me. (Walking through the old town of Jerusalem – having been spooked by teams of soldiers running through dark alleys in full combat gear – it was the eve of Jimmy Carter’s peace mission to Jerusalem – I saw a guy in the shadows reach into his jacket as I stumbled past; I thought he was going to mug me or knife me; instead, he lit a cigarette lighter so I could see where to step.)

Israeli society as I saw it – and I saw it from both sides – was split, unequal, and based on injustice.

Given the news over the last week, I can’t help but feel that nothing has really changed in twenty five years.