Day 5: The First Show

I poke Mauro hard in the ribs. No movement. I suspect he might be dead. I'd got a call from the others that the circus show is in one hour, at a school in Azarea, back across the wall. He's ready in a few minutes and with Susana on the phone, we pass the handset to various Arabs who are happy to point us in the correct direction. They're pleased to be able to help and some spot the camera and ask for their photo to be taken. Back on to the number 36 bus, we're into Palestine and meet up with the others. Then we wait for a taxi that will take us to the school. Today, the weather is much better.







Graffiti is fairly commonplace through Palestine. The locals are obviously happy and proud of the artwork and tell me the meaning which was something along the lines of, "When there is no water there is still sand", and the second bit was something to do with Yasser Arafat. My heart skips a beat when they tell me this is the symbol of Hamas - from watching the news back in the UK, I know that they're the militant, terrorist group. But I have a pleasant chat with these guys and figure that I probably got confused with the other group. These guys certainly weren't terrorists.



We pitch up at the school. "You can take pictures of the kids, but do not take pictures of the teachers", instructs Susana. All the teachers at this private school in Al Hadidya are female, in a wrapped headdress, wearing make-up and are very pretty indeed - even by British primary school standards, this school is in immaculate condition, only two years old and has a real focus on arts and design. The apparent quality of the school is surprising.

The Boomchucka circus is a hit. Apart from the one kid who was escorted off, crying, they look on, with laughter, amazement and wonder. I start to get a better idea about why the circus work so hard to raise funds and make the trek all the way out to the heart of Palestine, the kids have never seen anything remotely close to this before in their lives.













Back at Susana's, Saalma has finally come out of hiding - a beautiful little, girl, enthusiastic, cheeky and affectionate all in one. She keeps grabbing my hand and trying to kiss me and I shit myself about being thrown out of the house for inappropriate handling of girls/children.





Farid is much less intimidating today and he is keen to talk about his knowledge of the world. He tells me how he likes listening to all music - except for anything electronic, anything with guitars and drums, and anything post 1970. "I very much like music, eet ees my hobby". He talks about how much he likes literature, and mentions Shakespeare, Tolstoy and some arabic writers. "I very much like all the literature, eet ees my hobby". He talks about sports, how he likes to play all sports, as long as it's football or volleyball. "Eet ees my hobby". We're getting on so well, I almost have the guts to tell him that yesterday when he asked me to write his daughter's name in Chinese, I think I might well have written 'King Prawn Curry'.


Above: I've even got Farid doing comedy poses.

Having now had a proper introduction the family, they arrange for us to crash in their living room. Once again, Mauro and myself have to head back to Jerusalem, this time to collect the rest of our belongings from the Faisal. Farid escorts us down to where we need to catch the bus and I try to clarify the whole checkpoint situation. What's the worst thing they could do to foreigners going back through from Palestine. He shrugs his shoulders, "I don't know, they like to disrupt and they very much like to torture us." He looks down and shifts some dirt around on the ground with his foot. "Eet ees their hobby".

He tells me that the border control severely limits employment opportunities - himself a man of many trades taking whatever work he can get paid for. The Palestinian economy is poor. Trade and business with anywhere outside of Palestine is limited and controlled, as are water and resources.

Mauro has worked up a proper appetite and polishes off four Armenian pizzas straight off at the little cafe just inside the Damascus Gate. We quickly grab our stuff from the Faisal which is still bustling with people. I recognise Klaus from my stay in Tel Aviv - he's checked out the keyboards and is now looking around Jerusalem. Leaving the Faisal is like leaving Fabric at the end of the night, with plenty of handshakes, phone-number swapping and every intention of staying in touch.

I leave a Subsource CD with the hostel owner. He is very thankful and insists on putting it on straight away. That's my cue to leave - I really don't think they like heavy music here, and as I'm running down the stairs with my bags, I'm pretty much cackling as I think I hear the sound of speaker cones rupturing.

The others have texted me asking me to pick up a map of the West Bank if at all possible. I haven't even seen a map or even been able to find a decent one online at this point, apart from one hanging on the wall in the Faisal. I'm tempted to steal (but only because it's for a good cause), but I'm told they're not that desperate for it yet. I suppose that with the instability and constant changing situation, maps don't stay accurate for very long.

Back one more time into Palestine with our belongings, the Arabs once again help us find our way, except for one very dodgy guy, with a sneering Ren-like voice who keeps poking his face to talk to us. He engages us with a few semi-polite questions, and just before we get off the bus, he tries his luck. "Give me your money". We shake our heads and say no. Thankfully he gave up on that line of conversation quite quickly. "Oh, um, then what is the time please?".

Back at our hosts' house, Farid tells us that he's been vegan since he was 17 for health reasons. Now he won't get Alzheimer's, Parkinson's, memory loss. As he sparks up his fourth roll-up that I've seen him smoke that day, he proudly announces he will live for much longer because of his abstinence from meat.