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Jizelle Salman
"When you come back
here, you feel a magnet"
Interview: 3/12/04, Beit
Jala
Jizelle Salman from Beit
Jala is English language teacher and youth
coordinator at the Arab Educational Institute in
Bethlehem.
I need to take a detour to
get to my house. I used to take a road which has
now become an Israeli checkpoint and military
camp. We've heard last year that the land on the
hill above my house, which we cultivated for
many years, will be expropriated in order to
build the Wall and next to it a military road.
This was of course most difficult news for us.
The Wall will be at a distance of only 6-12
meters from our house. We will be imprisoned by
a Wall above our house, where there is the Har
Gilo settlement, as well as a Wall below our
house. Above our own lands the Greek Orthodox
Convent has lands, and beneath our home the
Salesian Convent has lands. Both convents
started court cases against the Israeli army.
Because these are churches which the Israelis
respect to some extent, we may perhaps be
supported. The Israelis have been announcing
that they are changing the route of the Wall,
but up until now we haven't been informed.
Through the checkpoints my
dad lost his factory, a stone factory for
building houses. He got the raw material, the
rocks, from Hebron, but the rocks could not pass
the checkpoints and so he lost his job and left
for work to the USA together with my sister who
also studies and works there. I hope that my
father will come back. My mam stayed here. She
is a very strong woman, she didn't want to leave
to America. An important reason to stay here is
that we have a road so that at least we can go
to downtown Beit Jala and Bethlehem. They could
not close the road because there is a hospital
nearby. So we were lucky. The fact that we have
a house here protects us from our land being
expropriated. If we were not here, there will be
nothing to prevent them from taking the land so
as to enlarge the Har Gilo settlement.
Palestine is divided into
three areas. Sometimes you loose counting
[laughs]. Area A is supposed to be 100 %
Palestinian controlled, area B Palestinian
civilian-controlled but the Israelis control
security, and area C is only for the
Palestinians concerning specific rights like
telephone and electricity; while in all other
matters it is 100 % under Israeli control. I
live in area C, so you have the army around. It
is very difficult to have the soldiers coming
and going along the house. Sometimes they close
the road as there are injured people who are
coming to the hospital and who may be "wanted."
Then the Israeli army comes and searches the
area for people. I wanted to go for my masters'
study to Birzeit University, normally 2 hours
away. However, the checkpoints and the difficult
roads made it impossible. It's not safe.
Sometimes you are stopped, you can't go further
to your destination and it also happens that the
road back home is blocked. Then you're stuck in
the middle while you are under the rain or in
the heat of the sun. My uncles are living in the
Ramallah area; I haven't visited them for the
last two years. You can't easily go to
hospitals, to holy places. I haven't been in
Jerusalem since four-five years. It's very
difficult to even get a permit to go there. So
you can't live your life. At night when you want
to go out as a young girl, hang out with friends
or something, you need to be careful not to
reach areas near Israeli checkpoints so as not
to encounter Israeli soldiers. Sometimes when
they are looking for someone there is a closure
in the area where you are and the drama starts.
Frankly, you can't feel what I'm saying until
you live it.
I really hate checkpoints
around the house. I used to go around and walk
over the hills. We live almost at the top of a
mountain; it has very nice views. It's fresh,
there are no smells like in downtown Bethlehem.
But as soon as you want to go and walk during,
for instance, a beautiful summer night you feel
that it is dangerous. Up at a certain point you
feel that they will suspect you and take you
away for investigation and all that stuff. So
you're just imprisoned in the Bethlehem area and
even not in all of the Bethlehem area. You're
stuck in a very small space. You can be checked
after every few meters. You suddenly find a
so-called emergency checkpoint in front of you
and they take you away for investigation, just
like that. This happens especially in our place,
because as I said I live in an area where they
look for wanted men.
* * *
Each summer I go for a
journey abroad, to study or visit my friends.
When I need to travel in June I start planning
for the travel from March on. All these three
months I don't know whether I am able to leave
the country or not. We can't use the airport
[near Tel Aviv] because you're a Palestinian. So
you have to go through Jordan for which you need
a permit. Will you pass the checkpoints that
day? This may depend upon the mood of the
soldier. After a while, you loose hope and you
want to say: It's enough, I don't want to
travel. If every year you have to suffer three
months just thinking about how to leave the
country, it becomes really tiring.
Then you reach the point
that you succeed in going out of the country.
You find another world; freedom, freedom of
movement, freedom of expressing your opinion as
a human being, respect for you as a human being,
respect for you as a female, culturally
speaking. I remember the days when I traveled to
Europe. In Holland they put me in the train. You
can go just from one city to another without
passport and after some hours I discovered that
I even was in Belgium. Wow! Nobody asked for my
passport. I was free! The journey back was my
biggest problem. You come back here once again
and you find the opposite. You find checkpoints,
you find yourself stuck in cultural issues, you
can't move, you can't do anything. I was really
frustrated and depressed the first weeks as if I
hadn't been living here before. I said to
myself: "Was it real what I had been living
under?"
I don't know why I had that
feeling at the beginning of my return back home
that I just wanted to leave this country. But
all of a sudden after three weeks and after
unpacking and running around and doing the
dozens of things which you have to do after
traveling, I felt that there is this magnet here
that attracts me. It makes you feel that you are
attached. I don't know what it is exactly. After
all, you can only scratch the surface of your
life. You don't know what is beneath that
surface. But there is that feeling that captures
you, in a brief moment. When you ask me about
the reason, I can't really spot it. First you
think, there's here nothing to do, and you can't
bear your life any longer, as there are dozens
of problems on your head, and than all of a
sudden, something comes like this [snaps with
the finger], maybe it is a smile of a friend,
maybe it's a word from an old lady, maybe it's a
cup of coffee with your relatives, or your
relatives coming to help you. Maybe it is our
family life, maybe it's our friends. You can't
find an exact answer to the question why you
want to stay here. It's just a feeling that you
can't resist. It's strange, but that's how it
works.
After this trip, I had this
feeling at the moment when I was completely at
rest with my family again, with my friends and
family. I was back in our normal prison life
[laughs]. And I thought: So why do I want to
leave? I shouldn't. I don't have so many choices
here but at least I have better choices than
other people. I have a job, I study at a
university, I have friends, I have my social
life. What do we need from life, in general? We
need respect, we need to be able to afford a
household, we need our friends. It's not so
complicated.
I once had a problem with
my car, a small accident. I phoned and suddenly,
three cars arrived, full of guys, my brothers,
friends, saying: What do you want? Is everything
OK? The guy who made the accident was even
afraid because he thought that I brought all
those people to make a problem for him. Wow,
whenever you need them they are there for you.
Maybe family life is better outside, I've never
tried it, but I sometimes hear from my father
that he doesn't see my sister in the US for two
days, although they live together. She works
different hours; she studies at night, gets up
early. Money-wise, they say it's better there.
But if you work a lot without having the time to
enjoy your life, what will happen to you after a
certain number of years? It's not easy when you
are under stress. Sometimes I just want to sit
with a big family around, drink a cup of tea.
When they ask me: What do you consider an
off-day, a holiday? After having visited six
countries this summer, I say: I am completely
free when I am away from the world, and when I
am in my pyjamas drinking coffee with my mam,
with nothing to do. It's such a therapeutic
feeling.
* * *
I reached the positive
point that I said, without hesitation, "I am so
lucky to be in Palestine and Bethlehem," after
going to Lebanon, for a workshop. I went to the
Sabra and Shatila refugee camps. There I met a
lady, she is in her late sixties maybe, and we
were holding flowers to go to the collective
graveyard made in commemoration of the massacre.
She asked: "Where are you coming from?" I said:
"I come from Bethlehem, Palestine," and she
started to hug me and kiss me, she even wanted
to kiss my hand. She started to cry. She didn't
want to leave me and she said, please take me
with you. We, the visitors, came from six Arab
countries, about sixty people in total, and all
of us were crying that moment. The refugees have
this strong desire to see their land. When I
asked them: "Where are you from?" they said
"from Safed," or "from Acca," and they mentioned
names of villages that I even don't know. When I
went home and saw my family around me, and we
had a party in the front yard, I said that
despite the fact that it is very difficult here
and you have to struggle, I remain here. In
fact, the struggle makes me stronger. I have
been through a lot. If you have everything, a
tiny problem becomes a big problem and you get
frustrated by it. But if you face a lot, if you
face a really tough experience, it makes you
stronger, it gives you a challenge. So I said to
myself, it's either me or life, you know, life
is not going to get over me. So I say now that I
am here since I do have certain choices, better
choices than others have here, and I must stay
here in order to save my home, to save my life,
to give people ideas.
* * *
As a teacher of children, I
hope that they can make a change as
Palestinians; respect the differences of the
other; respect somebody for what she or he is.
The concept of freedom is for me respect for a
human being. I am not sure whether we will reach
that stage soon. I think that we need to build
it up by education, to work hard on it, among us
as Palestinians and besides the Israelis. We
shouldn't feel superior or inferior towards
other people. If you feel inferior you develop
hatred towards the other, and when you feel that
you're superior the other person will not feel
that you respect him. Of course, it's a very
long term goal.
Generally, what keeps me
going on, it's hope. You have the hope of being
able to make changes. The feeling that you're
still young, that you can do so much here. You
see foreigners staying here for solidarity
purposes; they give. So you ask yourself: What
about you, Palestinian youngsters, why don't we
give? In fact I do believe that we give a lot.
And we still have the energy to give more, to
raise up our children, to stay in our country.
You have the love for your country, for the
people that you are connected with, the students
you teach. In a way, every single thing here you
love. It is your country, your home.
Despite all the terrible
things that happen to us Palestinians we have
achieved something. We have achieved to have our
national Palestinian passport and ID which
reflects our nationality. That's what I
discovered when I lately went to Canada for a
few weeks, on a scholarship. The aboriginal
people there, those native Canadians, they don't
have Indian passports and have just melted as
part of a colonial history. I realized that I
had forgotten that we are strong enough and that
we have our own nationality, our presence, our
own country. We are facing very strong
international powers, the strongest powers in
the world. But we have asserted our cultural and
national identity.
There are also rewarding
moments with my children, students I mean.
Whenever I am going into the class I just feel
that they're waiting there for me, outside the
English class. Last year I told a class that
next year I wouldn't teach them anymore. They
went to the principal asking if Miss Jizelle
could stay teaching them. I teach them how to be
self-confident, how to act democratically. I
don't impose things on them; I give their
opinion weight. Sometimes, when I am tired and
nervous and start shouting, they say "Ahh, but
you said that you were a democratic teacher!"
Education is most important for making changes.
You see the glitter in the children's eyes when
they hear the word democracy or participation.
These eyes reflect hope, innocence, the love of
their teacher. That's so rewarding for me.
Living in Palestine is
something special. I was lucky enough not to
have to leave the country, not to become a
refugee or an emigrant. I could have gone to the
US and get a green card or a passport, but I
didn't do so. If I would have to choose again, I
would once again choose to live in Beit Jala, on
the top of that mountain that is so very calm
and clean, and with its strong family and social
bonds. Bethlehem and Beit Jala touch your heart,
directly. |
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