The West Bank pt.1

My earliest memories of The West Bank are from 1987-88, when I was a sophomore in high school. CNN had daily footage of people throwing rocks at tanks and troops, and the troops using guns to fight back. I'd didn't seem like a fair fight. I don't remember who it was that told me that the one throwing the rocks were actually the bad ones in this disagreement. I thought if all they doing is throwing rocks, how can they be the bad ones if the other guys are gunning them down? The mind of a 16 year old can only understand so much. That first Palestinian Infatada represented a shift in how the US media covered the Israel-Palestine conflict. It was the first time that the Palestinians were portrayed as victims.

That thinking stuck with me for the most part, until 2000, and the Second Infatada, where Palestinians started walking into buildings and blowing themselves up. Despite having a great deal of admiration for people who have strong belief and live according to those values, suicide bombing seemed unconscionable. It seemed to cross the line in to radicalism, something I've never been able to accept. Those bombings seemed like they devalued life, and that, despite what some would consider the ultimate statement of belief, made them ineffective.

Since 2000, I've read a lot on the Occupied Territories. I've listened to a couple of lecture series I got from the library and have followed the stories on the news. I remember the assassination of Yitzak Rabin in 1995, but did not understand it's importance to the future of the conflict. In my recent readings, I've grown to appreciate that Rabin's vision, while unpopular with the more radical parts of Jewish society, is sorely missed today.

A few months before leaving on this trip, I started planning on visiting the West Bank during my trip. There had been, as CNN put it one night, "the longest period of sustained peace in recent memory". A few days later, riots broke out in East Jerusalem over housing developments being build for Jews in East Jerusalem, on land the Palestinians see as the future capital of the Palestinian state. I had been doing reading and was fairly confident that I could take a taxi from East Jerusalem to Bethlehem, navigate Bethlehem on my own, then hire another taxi to take me to and from Hebron, another city that had peaked my interest. The riots, although minor compared to the infatadas, worried my wife and my family. I did not feel like giving up my dream of visiting the West Bank, so after consulting some people I trust, I decided to fork out the money and hire a well-recommended guide for the day to take me to Bethlehem, Hebron and the desert monastery of Mar Saba. So that is how I found myself on Monday, the fifth day of my trip, in the passenger seat next to the fascinating and informative Sam Salem.

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This post has become a monster to write, and will include at least 23 pictures. I usually try to limit the size of the articles, this one will require at least two more posts. I'm working on it- I swear. Please accept the picture below as evidence.