Leaving Nablus

[A man selling kites outside Huwara checkpoint in Nablus]

Today I left Nablus for Ramallah to rest up over the next few days and write up some pieces based on the interviews I undertook. I spent the last five days hearing stories of loss, grief, fear, uncertainty and (mostly) unwavering resistance interspersed with a lot of walking, smoke-filled rooms, and even the odd barn yard filled with goats, sheep or a cow. The Palestinians are very strong. Sometimes I wonder whether Israelis understand what they're up against. I think they mistake their resolve to remain on their lands for fool's courage. Moreover, as difficult as things are, I'm convinced that the Palestinians will eventually live in a state along with the Jewish population. But it will probably take several decades. Israel, and its occupation, are not only mad. They are unsustainable. Of course, no matter how rosy my conclusion sounds, even if the Palestinians do win their freedom they will no doubt also lose a lot more lives.

On another note, while I was lining up in the check point I couldn't resist pulling out my camera and taking some snaps. I concluded that even if the Israelis picked up a stink the worst thing they could do is tell me get lost. But at least I would have photos to show the outside world how the Palestinians have been dehumanised and herded through checkpoints like cattle on their own lands.So I went a bit crazy and took a lot of photos. Eventually a burly Israeli soldier came over, he looked Russian. He spoke in very bad Arabic and I just said, "sorry no Arabic mate. Press." And he walked off.When it was my turn to have my passport checked another soldier standing next to the woman holding my passport said "You take photo?" I pretended not to understand, he was, afterall, speaking in very broken English. Eventually he got frustrated and tagged my camera bag and I followed him as he put my bag on a table and started to open it. I quickly flashed my press cards and as he was looking at them zipped up the bag and took it back.

The other soldier, the one with my passport, said half-heartedly "Open your bag." Again, I feigned ignorance as to what she said. She too spoke poor English. There was around a five second pause, after which I just took my bags and walked off. You could tell they didn't really know what to do. The soldiers at these checkpoints are really young. They gave me a bit of a death stare and I did my best "go fuck yourself" facial expression.
There is not doubt that, had I been Palestinians, they would have grabbed me, knocked me about, and detained me for the afternoon. Talk about FUBAR.