Teaching in Ramallah

Ramallah, Tuesday, October 18, 2011

After years of hearing about Ramallah in the news, I was left with a vague impression of what the city might look like: a poor, downtrodden place marked by buildings bombed out by Israeli attacks. I was in for a surprise. The political centre of the West Bank turns out to be a lively, clean and prosperous city, a cultural hot spot with tree-lined streets that retains the charm of a place where people have lived for more than 500 years.

Getting here, however, was a less charming experience. It took an entire day to work my way through Israeli bureaucracy, pass through countless document checks and questions and hours more in taxis, buses and mini-buses to finally arrive.

The problem was that Canadians don’t normally need a visa to get into the West Bank. You just show up, get you passport stamped and go on your way. In my case, I’m also going to Gaza. That means I need a special multiple entry visa. Without it, I might get into Gaza. But I wouldn’t get out again. Israeli authorities in Amman and at the border didn’t really seem to know what to do with me. So I waited and answered questions. And waited some more and answered the same questions asked by different people.

But the only way to deal with this kind of thing is to relax and let things happen at their own pace. Once I got the visa, my faithful taxi driver Aeman, who was making a killing from my travels, drove me the hour or so to the border. Again we drove toward the Dead Sea, this time heading a little further north to the Allenby Bridge and across the Jordan River. They really should call it the Jordan Creek. At this point, so much water has been sucked from the river for irrigation and drinking that there’s barely enough to reach the Dead Sea. The flow is so small that if Jesus wanted to be baptized there today, he’d be out of luck.

From there, it was a big bus to Jericho (no city walls in evidence, standing or otherwise) and then a long wait until we got seven people to fill the minibus to Ramallah.

Today was a big day in the city. Everywhere they’re celebrating the release of the first prisoners in the exchange with Israel. I missed the action because this was also the first day of my course. It’s at Birzeit University, an attractive collection of new buildings high on a hilltop about 10 kilometres north of Ramallah. There are about 15 trainees, all recent journalism graduates or students of the university. They’re a good group, not afraid to ask questions or discuss issues.

It’s interesting to hear things from a Palestinian point of view. They are fiercely nationalistic, and I think see themselves as Palestinians first and journalists second. Journalists here face all the problems I’ve seen in many other countries: corrupt bosses, poor pay, pressure from political parties. They also have the added problems that come with the Israeli occupation: physical danger covering protests, lack of access to information from the Israeli side, and travel restrictions. Still, they are very keen to do their jobs and are interested in hearing a perspective from the outside.

While I haven’t had much time to look around Ramallah, where I’m staying, I like what I see so far. It’s built on a series of barren limestone hills and the buildings have a similar look to those in Jordan; no coincidence, since this was part of Jordan until the 1967 war. The Palestinians have put a lot of money into sprucing the place up. The streets are cluttered with traffic, but attractive and jammed with shops, restaurants and cool cappuccino bars.  It isn’t cheap here either. Housing is apparently pricey and a cappuccino and a piece of cake runs almost $10. According to Lena, a Danish employee at the university who helped organize the training, they seem to be making it into the capital city of an independent country that they hope it will one day be. There are cultural events and parties all the time. This evening I went to the Danish House In Palestine to listen to a discussion about Christian Palestinians. (Yes, there is a lively but shrinking Palestinian Christian population here. Ramallah was for many years a mostly Christian city. And yes, apparently there are a fair number of Danes as well.)

 

After the talk, I walked back to my hotel. Despite its reputation as a conflict zone, Ramallah feels very friendly and safe. The people are great too. When I was trying to figure out how to get from the Allenby Bridge to Ramallah, a helpful young Civil Engineer aimed me to the right buses and even lent me his cell phone so I could let the organizers know I was on my way. I’m told that kind of thing is common. 

Next on the agenda: Day 2 of the course and maybe some more exploration of the city.

John