Our neighbour is not the type of person to accommodate to any kind of question or order during such interrogations. She did not shy away from pointing out the absurdity of a question like: “Are you sure that your family did not accompany you to the airport?” (“They cannot swallow the thought that an Arab girl travels independently in her own car.”) When she was ordered to put off her shoes, she told her interrogator, “after you.” Finally, a superior arrived who judged the interrogation to be long enough. She told him that she would never fly an Israeli aircraft anymore. “You’re right,” the superior said, “you’d better not do that.” (Hannah, Mary’s brother, comments that he was once given similar advice). Our neighbour adds that without her European passport she would not dare to strike the self-assured and challenging tone she usually adopts during encounters with security at the airport or with soldiers at.checkpoints.

After the journey, a Jewish colleague in the Jerusalem consulate where our neighbour works was supportive and embraced her after she recounted the sad holiday experience as well as the present circumstances in Palestine which prompted her to go out. With the best of intentions, her colleague thought to illustrate the effects of war by telling about the experiences of her Jewish family abroad who still suffers sleepless nights due to the Second World War. Our neighbour says that she felt uncomfortable with the remark. She explains that when she hears about the Second World War, she does not feel free to speak about Palestinian suffering because Jewish suffering is always larger. 

On Friday, I meet Ishmail at the Freres School. Together with his students, he left early at 6:30 from Al-Arroub camp near Hebron to arrive after 8:00 in Bethlehem – a journey of normally half an hour. Near the entrance to Bethlehem, it happened that just before the taxi in which he drove, Israeli soldiers stopped another taxi, and cut its tyres with a special kind of knife. Ishmail says that at checkpoints or when there is heavy traffic, taxis should drive slowly and not completely stand still so as to avoid settlers or soldiers cutting tyres. Last week it happened to him that while going to school he and his colleagues working at various United Nations schools were forced to stay at a checkpoint for more than two hours. Normally, the soldiers allow UNRWA employees to cross the checkpoint but this time the showing of the little blue UNRWA pass only elicited an obscene gesture. Together with some of his students from the camp, Ishmail is invited to attend the meeting for Pax Christi next week at the Freres in Bethlehem. Since the meeting is in the late afternoon, he is unable to return to Hebron, and will stay at the Freres (De La Salle) Hostel on top of the school. Traveling between Bethlehem and Hebron is now dangerous after four o’clock. Ishmail, with his usual quiet laugh: “You can then expect anything, gas cannisters, shooting in the air, long waiting times.” Also parents don’t like their kids to travel during the night.  

Meanwhile, Ishmail tells disturbing news: one of his students, Murad Abu Jdid, was arrested late last night. This student is involved in the “Sharing Stories’ project with the Dutch schools and also in a story-telling performance which will take place after the Pax Christi Mass on Friday. At 23:00 h., some twenty youth from Al-Arroub camp were picked up from their homes by Israeli soldiers accompanied by masked informers. Apparently, those arrested were involved in stone-throwing. The expectation is now that Murad and the others will stay in prison without indictment or trial for a period of three to six months. Considering the prevalant practice until now, they will be initially allowed to make a telephone call just once a week to their family, and not be able to receive family members nor a lawyer. Such initial periods in which prisoners stay isolated from the surrounding world are reserved for interrogation. Karishma says that Ishmail told her that he is concerned that during that interrogation, the boy may talk about the project and Ishmail’s role therein, and that soldiers might summon Ishmail, too, for interrogation. Karishma adds that she first considered that thought somewhat far-fetched, but after hearing the boys’ accounts she realized that Ishmail’s concern may well be realistic. The boys from Al-Arroub tell her all kinds of stories which show the presence of an intensely intimidating atmosphere in the camp – which is located in Area C, that is, under direct Israeli occupation. For instance, when, during another night’s search for youth, soldiers could not find a suspected youth, they beat up both his parents in frustration and created a mess in the room. Karishma now encourages the team to which Murad belongs, to write down his story and communicate it to the Dutch partner team. Perhaps a kind of campaign would be appropriate too, she says, but then we consider that as an educational institute we must be very cautious with initiating what can be understood as “political” actions.

At the Freres School, we do rehearsals for the cultural meeting which will follow the Friday Mass. Fuad and Ishmail are busy directing the story-telling part. A teacher at the Freres School and author of children’s books, Dana, wrote a story for the performance that happened to be about imprisonment and religious values. (Last week, Murad was asked to type that story for the others in his camp to read). The tale is about a Moslem and Christian family whose kids are friends. Both are simultaneously imprisoned during the new Intifadah, and the main theme of the story is how these circumstances change the meaning of Christmas and the Eid al-Fitr, the festive occasion after Ramadan which this year happens to be just after Christmas. The teachers decide to lend the story a positive turn, also as a symbolic gesture to keep hope alive for Murad. The two friends are shown to be released and welcomed by their families. Afterwards, a song is performed by all participating students in which Palestinian unity across religious borders is celebrated. The singers join hands and, instructed by Fuad, sing louder at moments in the song when Moslem-Christian solidarity is proclaimed. The song, a recent Egyptian one devoted to Palestinian victims of the Intifadah, emphasizes values of peace and humanity for all people.

During the story-telling, one of the participating students comes forward, and says indignantly. “This part should be changed!”  The story contains a sentence in which it is said that the Israeli shootings and bombings follow Palestinian stone throwing. The student objects that it looks as if the stone throwing comes first, and the shooting and bombings are just a response. What’s the problem, others say, stone throwing and shooting are clearly incomparable in their effects. The student: “But the stone throwing has a reason, too!” Someone suggests: “The occupation.” “No, that is too general. At Al-Khader, soldiers forced a boy and a girl to kiss each other in public – that’s why the boys there started throwing stones.” And the students change the script once again. Kissing each other in public is for Palestinians a very embarassing deed to perform or to witness.

I meet Giselle, a teacher at the Freres who is involved in the preparations for the Pax Christi Mass and the cultural meeting afterwards. While working together, I have the chance to know her a bit better. She sits on the edge of the chair and talks quickly, clearly under pressure. She lives in Beit Jala and previously taught English at the Hope Flowers School there, a small private school well-known for its cooperation in Israeli-Palestinian peace programs in which she participated, too. She tells that her father, who owns a stone-cutting industry, is presently without work. (Beit Jala is well-known for its stone industry. It is said that the pillars of the Church of the Nativity were made in the stone quarries of the town some 1500 years ago). But now Giselle’s father does not dare to ask his drivers to bring stones from the Hebron area, where they are quarried. The vans cannot pass the checkpoint near Bethlehem, where a hill is erected through which only smaller cars can pass. And apparently, the bypass roads used by settlers are too dangerous for Palestinian vans. Without work, her father stays at home. A few weeks ago, he used to go out to play cards with his friends, but when the windows of the house were shot while they were playing, he did not want to leave his house anymore. 

Giselle’s young parents – both in their forties - do not see a future in Palestine and are in the last stage of arranging their visa to the United States. She is quite upset about their decision. Does she want to leave, too? No, she wants to stay for her job and is also committed to build the country – if that will be ever possible. But it will be very difficult for her and her parents to live apart. It’s not easy, life here, she repeats a few times. Her sister of ten sometimes sleeps on the floor, out of fear. During these cold winter nights the family regularly keep the windows open to avoid that they break during the thunderous shellings. Two months ago, she had an afternoon job as a secretary in a restaurant in Beit Sahour but the restaurants have stopped functioning, and now she is hooked on the computer in an Internet café. These days I see more people being “hooked on” something, whether chocolate, the sound of bombings, or long telephone calls.

During one evening of heavy shooting I softly sing Dutch children’s songs with Jara. I have even picked up an old hobby, playing the guitar. Keeping Jara relaxed is in the front of our minds. I see Ramzi, the designer, while talking with a local radio station. He begs the station not to play political songs, but exclusively Christmas songs, the whole day long! He lives in Beit Jala and one of his children, of the same age as Jara, is so afraid that she always grabs her parents’ legs. He considers to go to a child psychiatrist. 

Jara talks all the time about travelling. Perhaps due to the presence of Mary’s family from Paris, she announces her interest in going to Paris, to Holland, to the Dead Sea, to the swimming pool in Jerusalem, and to the zoo. Mary, half-jokingly, says that the many books which we show and read to Jara serve to release her imaginations of freedom – and what about when we cannot fulfil her dreams, she will knock our heads! I consider how impossible a situation is in which one would almost wish to limit a child’s imagination so as to save her frustrations afterwards. 

On Saturday Jara goes to the Church of Nativity and prays there, for the first time, the “Our Father” which she devotes to “tete” (Palestinian grandma in Bethlehem) and “oma” (Dutch grandma, living in Rotterdam). Sunday we celebrate her birthday. I decide to go with her to the zoo in Jerusalem. The zoo is located in occupied territory, yet it is beautifully designed, with all the animals Jara observes in the books, and the weather is summer-like. The administration of the zoo raises funds by advertising that it brings together all kinds of people: foreigners and Israelis, orthodox Jews and secular Jews, and Jews and Arabs. Indeed that is true; there is no other place where you see so many different people, except perhaps for Israeli hospitals and the Israeli Ministry of Interior (which is still on strike). 

With my Dutch passport, I of course don’t have a problem in traveling to the zoo. Mary tells Jara that she cannot join. “Leish la (Why not),” Jara asks. “Because of the Israelis.” “Leish (Why)?”  “I don’t know.”  “So I go with daddy to the zoo, and you go to the church and pray.” 

Mary has her birthday on Monday but she does not want presents. “Only a kiss.” In the morning I choose a card for her with a picture of an idyllic scene featuring a little boat on the still river of Jordan, and write: “Let’s take a slow boat to China.”