In a few days, I will be heading back home and leaving Palestine. Most people who were trained at the same time I was and close to that, are in a similar situation, although new people always come.
We have been together for a few weeks at the most, yet I have grown closer with them than I am with many of my friends who I have known for years. We come from across North America and Europe (this summer, we also have had and continue to have volunteers from other parts of the globe), and among us are also people from Palestine. We all speak English to communicate, but in the apartment you will also hear words and sometimes conversations in Danish, Italian, Polish, Swedish and of course Arabic. There are university students and people who are working full-time. Most of us are in our twenties and thirties. There are some people who are here the first time, and others who are here the fourth time. Some of us are married, some are dating, some are single.
We share experiences that few other people in our countries do.
Together, we run out the door to respond to calls of arrests and beatings and detentions, at all hours of the day and night.
We talk to Palestinians who have been released from police stations and military bases, sometimes after having been tortured and beaten.
We sleep in the homes of and experience the hospitality of Palestinian families, in Susya and in Hebron, who spoil us and treat us like family, giving us plate after plate of delicious food, until we feel like bursting and can't take in another bite.
We try to negotiate with soldiers who are holding people up or making arrests, asking them to let the people go.
We go to demonstrations and clashes together, and run from the skunk truck and teargas and sound bombs. Those who choose to stand close to the shebab (many of my comrades do) during the clashes, also run from live fire and rubber bullets.
We march in demonstrations waving Palestinian flags, and film what is going on.
We get stopped by soldiers, who ask to see our passports and sometimes grab them.
Most of us have at some point been threatened or sworn at, some have been pushed around or hit. All of us have had at least a whiff of teargas, some more than others. Some of us had experienced even more than that,
All of us know that the risks we face are laughable compared to the situation our Palestinian friends live in.
We go on daily patrols through the Souq and Shuhada Street, and talk with the people in the shops and have tea or coffee with them... which they always offer us.
We work non-stop on some days, and enjoy the slow pace of others.
We stay up sometimes until three in the morning, watching movies and eating popcorn.
We sometimes eat supper on the roof, and afterwards enjoy a good shisha.
We sometimes play stupid jokes on each other, and laugh at each other's mannerisms and accents.
We take turns cooking and washing dishes and cleaning the apartment.
We go out to the market and store to buy food, and, more often than not, it includes cold drinks and/or ice cream.
We enjoy the weather when there is a cool breeze, and commiserate when the temperature rises past the mid-thirties- especially when at the same time, water runs out.
We play chess and cards and talk about life back home, and compare the countries we are from, and complain about our political leaders.
We argue sometimes over politics and food and movies and more important things like tactics and group responsibilities, but no one ever really gets too angry at anyone else, and, much more importantly, stays angry.
We share our feelings during our meetings, and are there for each other.
I am happy to be going back to Canada, and to see my wife and parents and brother. I am glad I will be starting work again soon, and see friends who are back in the city I am from.
At the same time, I am sad to be leaving Palestine. I will miss my ISM comrades, in many ways we are like family.
Due to the nature of the work we do, we go through some things that few others who live in Western Europe or North America (at least Canada and the US), have ever experienced or are likely to ever experience. Many of these things most of our families and friends and acquaintances could not even begin to understand, even though they are also very good and compassionate people and many of them support the work we are doing.
We have a very special bond that is hard to describe to anyone who is not part of us.
I count these people as my brothers and sisters in the struggle, and they are among my closest friends.
No comments:
Post a Comment