November 8, 2003
Oh man oh man oh man....
We just finished assembling our "tools" for tomorrow's action, and I'm really fucking stoked. What I had suggested as an action, out of sheer expediency and the sense that it was (at minimum) feasible, has blossomed into something that could be spec-fucking-tacular. We weren't totally sure that we could pull off something all that interesting, both because of our numbers, and the sort of comfort level that a conservative town like Qalqilia has with more dramatic actions. But I'm satisfied that this could be positively fantastic, if we pull it off.
I went across the street to get something to drink, and the two guys working in the little store were working in some sort of multimedia program on the computer there, and noticed me glancing at it. At first, I was worried that they were going to be pissed at my being so nosy, but one of them showed me (quite proudly) that they were updating an English-language website about the Wall, as it impacts Qalqilia.
It's quite interesting to talk to people in shops here, on the streets, etc. and see how all of them perceive resistance to this wall as a basic part of their lives -- which isn't something all that shocking in the abstract... Indeed, it makes perfect sense. But when you experience that firsthand, it really is a pronounced difference from what I think we're used to in the States, in most cases. At home, I feel like the idea of explicit and dramatic resistance is something people empathize with in some idealistic sort of way, but don't really internalize it as necessary. And admittedly, there are often good reasons for that. But given how utterly hopeless much of the situation here appears and feels, even to the casual observer, it's staggering that people still have hope, and even an identification with resistance.
Tomorrow, from noon until 2pm, there will be a general strike throughout the West Bank -- amidst, in some cases, unemployment rates of 90% and poverty on a massive scale. That's really hard to wrap one's mind around, coming from DC, where apartheid, colonialism, poverty, etc. are all built into the structure of the city, and yet... People have been conditioned to resign themselves to it. It's testament to how effectively capitalism and other systems of power have convinced people to adapt themselves to unadaptable situations. And it's not that I'm romantic about the situation on the ground here. I mean, the ISM Olive Harvest campaign has more or less bombed, because you can't really construct a direct action campaign around picking olives on confiscated land, when the farmers are all so desperate that they're lining up to apply for permits. But something tells me there is still a disconnect to be learned from here, that could instruct strategies for organizing back home. Then again, maybe not. Perhaps tomorrow will illuminate that more.
Running down the clock. Tomorrow is the day that I've sort of lived for, the last few weeks -- it's the culmination of all that I'd wished I'd been able to do here, in Qalqilia. And it feels pretty incredible that this is happening around the world -- that what is happening here is actually part of something that people around the world are putting themselves into. People back home have been really, really helpful in expediting technical/material assistance we need for our action -- and that's meant the world to me. Not just because of the objective material benefit of being able to actually do what we want to do, here... But in the fact that if I'd had to face one more effort being for nothing here, I'd have lost my fucking mind.
However, I'm still not sleeping. Not when I want to, anyway. I laid down this morning at like 5am, and just as I finally started to doze off, this torrential downpour started beating on the roof like nails, nearly out of nowhere. And that was the end of my sleep. I finally dozed off again around 8am, and was woken up at 9 to go scout for the action, and procure supplies for it; painfully exhausted the entire time. By the end of it, I was really irritable and wanted to shove anyone who walked too slowly in front of me on the way back to the apartment. When I finally passed out again, I didn't wake up until 5pm.
This sort of experience really draws out the fact that we're social beings. Not being able to process things that I didn't expect to feel, here, has created this sort of dead weight that just drags around on me, and aggravates me when I'm not distracted enough not to notice it. So, at night, I can't sleep, cause it's just me and that dead weight. And during the day, I can only sleep because I can lull myself by listening to the other voices in the room, etc. I'm elated to be heading to Beit Sahour in the next few days, to work in the media office. It'll mean working by myself, communicating with folks online when I need to, and I'm told there's a TV; which means I can just leave it on and fall asleep at night.
Supposing everything goes well tomorrow, I'll have a lot more to talk about. We've already received 3 French internationals, and are expecting 8 ISM folks from this weekend's training tomorrow. Several kids from ISM in Jayous have also shown up to help. So, our group is swelling a bit, and I'm buoyed by the prospect of this action being something significant. Cross your fingers.
We just finished assembling our "tools" for tomorrow's action, and I'm really fucking stoked. What I had suggested as an action, out of sheer expediency and the sense that it was (at minimum) feasible, has blossomed into something that could be spec-fucking-tacular. We weren't totally sure that we could pull off something all that interesting, both because of our numbers, and the sort of comfort level that a conservative town like Qalqilia has with more dramatic actions. But I'm satisfied that this could be positively fantastic, if we pull it off.
I went across the street to get something to drink, and the two guys working in the little store were working in some sort of multimedia program on the computer there, and noticed me glancing at it. At first, I was worried that they were going to be pissed at my being so nosy, but one of them showed me (quite proudly) that they were updating an English-language website about the Wall, as it impacts Qalqilia.
It's quite interesting to talk to people in shops here, on the streets, etc. and see how all of them perceive resistance to this wall as a basic part of their lives -- which isn't something all that shocking in the abstract... Indeed, it makes perfect sense. But when you experience that firsthand, it really is a pronounced difference from what I think we're used to in the States, in most cases. At home, I feel like the idea of explicit and dramatic resistance is something people empathize with in some idealistic sort of way, but don't really internalize it as necessary. And admittedly, there are often good reasons for that. But given how utterly hopeless much of the situation here appears and feels, even to the casual observer, it's staggering that people still have hope, and even an identification with resistance.
Tomorrow, from noon until 2pm, there will be a general strike throughout the West Bank -- amidst, in some cases, unemployment rates of 90% and poverty on a massive scale. That's really hard to wrap one's mind around, coming from DC, where apartheid, colonialism, poverty, etc. are all built into the structure of the city, and yet... People have been conditioned to resign themselves to it. It's testament to how effectively capitalism and other systems of power have convinced people to adapt themselves to unadaptable situations. And it's not that I'm romantic about the situation on the ground here. I mean, the ISM Olive Harvest campaign has more or less bombed, because you can't really construct a direct action campaign around picking olives on confiscated land, when the farmers are all so desperate that they're lining up to apply for permits. But something tells me there is still a disconnect to be learned from here, that could instruct strategies for organizing back home. Then again, maybe not. Perhaps tomorrow will illuminate that more.
Running down the clock. Tomorrow is the day that I've sort of lived for, the last few weeks -- it's the culmination of all that I'd wished I'd been able to do here, in Qalqilia. And it feels pretty incredible that this is happening around the world -- that what is happening here is actually part of something that people around the world are putting themselves into. People back home have been really, really helpful in expediting technical/material assistance we need for our action -- and that's meant the world to me. Not just because of the objective material benefit of being able to actually do what we want to do, here... But in the fact that if I'd had to face one more effort being for nothing here, I'd have lost my fucking mind.
However, I'm still not sleeping. Not when I want to, anyway. I laid down this morning at like 5am, and just as I finally started to doze off, this torrential downpour started beating on the roof like nails, nearly out of nowhere. And that was the end of my sleep. I finally dozed off again around 8am, and was woken up at 9 to go scout for the action, and procure supplies for it; painfully exhausted the entire time. By the end of it, I was really irritable and wanted to shove anyone who walked too slowly in front of me on the way back to the apartment. When I finally passed out again, I didn't wake up until 5pm.
This sort of experience really draws out the fact that we're social beings. Not being able to process things that I didn't expect to feel, here, has created this sort of dead weight that just drags around on me, and aggravates me when I'm not distracted enough not to notice it. So, at night, I can't sleep, cause it's just me and that dead weight. And during the day, I can only sleep because I can lull myself by listening to the other voices in the room, etc. I'm elated to be heading to Beit Sahour in the next few days, to work in the media office. It'll mean working by myself, communicating with folks online when I need to, and I'm told there's a TV; which means I can just leave it on and fall asleep at night.
Supposing everything goes well tomorrow, I'll have a lot more to talk about. We've already received 3 French internationals, and are expecting 8 ISM folks from this weekend's training tomorrow. Several kids from ISM in Jayous have also shown up to help. So, our group is swelling a bit, and I'm buoyed by the prospect of this action being something significant. Cross your fingers.
posted by Joshua | 9:21 PM
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