Beginning or end?

(The bullet-ridden flag is still flying. A perfect metaphor for an occupied people.)

Today is my final day in Palestine. After that I'm off to crazy Cairo for half a day before embarking on the long journey back to Canberra, Australia. Yes, that's right, I'm returning to Canberra and my house negro ways. More on that later.

I'm tired, my arms and legs are sore, and my brain is farely drained. I've also found myself overloaded with stories of dispossession, injustice and shear victimhood. So much so that I often glaze over as, for instance, an old lady tells me of the night her grandson was detained by the Israelis, and is yet to be heard from (let alone charged).

The Palestinians are an intense bunch. Their hospitality can be stifling, much like the taste of you fifth cup of Arabic coffee in the Mediterranean heat. But it's incredibly welcoming. What has surprised me the most, although it isn't really all that surprising in retrospect, is the abject routineness of the place. That includes the occupation. People have adjusted to a life of constant humiliations, struggles and imminent dangers. Let me give you but one example by way of illustration.

For the past few nights Israeli jets have been flying over head around the clock. And when I say around the clock, I mean, on some days, every 30 mins, 24 hours a day. Yes, even at 2am in the morning! Sometimes they just fly very low to the ground, yet still too fast for you to actually catch them. Instead, by the time you hear the plane overhead, it's already way up in the clouds. On other occasions they produce a sonic boom - basically break the sound barrier very close to the ground. Again, before you know what's happened, the courageous Israeli pilot has already bailed off with his plane into the sky. At night you can see the deep red exhaust of the plane flying up over the horizon like a shooting star in reverse.

These sonic booms are pretty special, to put it in crudely ironic terms. It's like a giant, very loud clap of thunder immediately above your head. Only this clap of thunder sends a giant ripple of sound waves coursing through the walls, the windows, through your entire body. I even saw the glass in the windows wobble on one occasion! I've never experienced anything like it. The first time I heard it, I literally thought I was about to be collateral damage in yet another 'targeted' assassination. Alas, I found myself safe and sound, albeit rather embarrassed - I was all balled up on the ground as everyone else casually kept walking on to wherever they were heading.

The sonic booms often break windows. I was told just moments ago that a local school has several cracked walls. Young children, and there are plenty of those in the Hospital I am currently visiting, scream profusely. And let's not forget the dear animals. They go totally apeshit - the dogs become delirious, barking abruptly. The birds all fly off at once like a giant, tangled ball of string.

There is no other way to explain this phenomenon than thus - it is state terrorism. An indiscriminate weapon whose sole purpose is to terrify the entire Palestinian population.

So there you have it. Another intensive journey through an intense land. It will take some time to adequately begin to assess my first impressions of Occupied Palestine. Be that as it may, one thing is already clear. For me, this is not the end of the journey. No. It's just the beginning.