Day 9: Palm Hostel
Walid the taxi driver I think quite fancies himself as part of the circus now and this morning, he's showing off his skills by raising me up above his head in a variety of manoeuvres and poses.
Another show at a school in the Abu Dis area of Palestine.
The tarot cards from the previous day seem to have had a negative vibe on some of us. Laura tells us of her dream - in it, she was an undercover agent working for the Palestinians against the Israelis, but then she's discovered. They try to gouge her eyes out and she tries to tell them that she's really a Westerner but they don't believe her and also threaten to chop her hands off if she resists. We tell her that's pretty full-on, and she astutely realises that translates to, 'that's fucked up'.
Laura is an incredible character - vociferous, determined and courageous. As an American Jew in Palestine, that could well be the most disliked mixture of origins that anyone could be here, but it's exactly for that reason that she's here - to achieve what she can and do her part to undo some of the damage that the American government has done here. Total respect to her, and I'm so glad that the majority of Palestinian people share this sentiment.
Today, she seems to have mislaid 90 shekels.
The show is in cramped conditions compared to what they're used to but again, the kids love it. I'm starting to feel a bit sick of the sight of children.
Ruth has managed to make an administrative error in booking shows because she was looking at the 2009 section of the diary. I'm starting to wonder how anything has ever worked out okay, but I think she's one of those who somehow always manages to land on her feet.
We decide (or rather, it wasn't decided, but just seemed to happen without discussion) to split up and have some of us stay with Susana and some of us stay at a hostel in Jerusalem to help ease the burden of hostessing for seven people when you've got a husband and four kids to look after. We try out the Palm Hostel - next door to the Faisal Hostel. This is a much, much, classier affair for not much more money, but hot water seems a little sporadic and I'm still braving cold showers. My sperm count must be rocketing.
In the evening, I pop next door to the Faisal in search of beers at request of the girls and to my great pleasure, Martin is there - our Palestinian affairs guru from day 6. He looks like he and his girlfriend have been hitting the shisha pipes for a while before I'd got there and he helps fill out some questions that I'd had about the situation. I tell him that when he talks about the 'First Intifada', I have no idea what he's talking about, and he leaps from his seat so fast that his glasses very nearly come clean off his nose. He's pretty much crapped himself as he's so excited to be able to talk about all of this to someone who wants to learn. He rushes me to the map of West Bank on the wall (the one that I came close to stealing a few days ago) and explains the two intifadas are periods where the Palestinian people have had a mass uprising and rebelled against the occupation - often marked by the use of suicide bombers against Israeli targets. In my head, things begin to shift - we hear of the awful terrorist attacks on the news, but these are the desperate actions of a people who are suffering and choking at the hands of others, and for the most part, there is very little they can do.
As Martin talks passionately and fervently about the dismal state of affairs late into a somewhat hazy night, he is despondent. For all he knows and for all his energy behind the Palestinian cause, he confesses that there's very little he can do. "When you really get to know the Palestinians and find out what it is they want, you find it's usually two things - firstly, money. Secondly, a passport to get out of the country." He draws a long puff from the slow-burning Shisha and he exhales with a deep respect, "But the Circus, actually manages to bring a tangible commodity they also need - they really do need to laugh and smile. What they do is amazing." I can feel my heart swell, knowing that I'm proud to be associated with these clowns and on the way out, back to the Palm Hostel, I pick up a few beers for the alcohol-deprived girls. They're fast asleep by the time I get back (clowning around looks like pretty hard work) so I rest the cans on their pillows so that they'll each wake up cuddled up to a can of beer. My fuzzy shisha'd head tells me they deserve more. Especially since, odds-on are that they'll probably have caned those bevvies by midday tomorrow.
Another show at a school in the Abu Dis area of Palestine.
The tarot cards from the previous day seem to have had a negative vibe on some of us. Laura tells us of her dream - in it, she was an undercover agent working for the Palestinians against the Israelis, but then she's discovered. They try to gouge her eyes out and she tries to tell them that she's really a Westerner but they don't believe her and also threaten to chop her hands off if she resists. We tell her that's pretty full-on, and she astutely realises that translates to, 'that's fucked up'.
Laura is an incredible character - vociferous, determined and courageous. As an American Jew in Palestine, that could well be the most disliked mixture of origins that anyone could be here, but it's exactly for that reason that she's here - to achieve what she can and do her part to undo some of the damage that the American government has done here. Total respect to her, and I'm so glad that the majority of Palestinian people share this sentiment.
Today, she seems to have mislaid 90 shekels.
The show is in cramped conditions compared to what they're used to but again, the kids love it. I'm starting to feel a bit sick of the sight of children.
Ruth has managed to make an administrative error in booking shows because she was looking at the 2009 section of the diary. I'm starting to wonder how anything has ever worked out okay, but I think she's one of those who somehow always manages to land on her feet.
We decide (or rather, it wasn't decided, but just seemed to happen without discussion) to split up and have some of us stay with Susana and some of us stay at a hostel in Jerusalem to help ease the burden of hostessing for seven people when you've got a husband and four kids to look after. We try out the Palm Hostel - next door to the Faisal Hostel. This is a much, much, classier affair for not much more money, but hot water seems a little sporadic and I'm still braving cold showers. My sperm count must be rocketing.
In the evening, I pop next door to the Faisal in search of beers at request of the girls and to my great pleasure, Martin is there - our Palestinian affairs guru from day 6. He looks like he and his girlfriend have been hitting the shisha pipes for a while before I'd got there and he helps fill out some questions that I'd had about the situation. I tell him that when he talks about the 'First Intifada', I have no idea what he's talking about, and he leaps from his seat so fast that his glasses very nearly come clean off his nose. He's pretty much crapped himself as he's so excited to be able to talk about all of this to someone who wants to learn. He rushes me to the map of West Bank on the wall (the one that I came close to stealing a few days ago) and explains the two intifadas are periods where the Palestinian people have had a mass uprising and rebelled against the occupation - often marked by the use of suicide bombers against Israeli targets. In my head, things begin to shift - we hear of the awful terrorist attacks on the news, but these are the desperate actions of a people who are suffering and choking at the hands of others, and for the most part, there is very little they can do.
As Martin talks passionately and fervently about the dismal state of affairs late into a somewhat hazy night, he is despondent. For all he knows and for all his energy behind the Palestinian cause, he confesses that there's very little he can do. "When you really get to know the Palestinians and find out what it is they want, you find it's usually two things - firstly, money. Secondly, a passport to get out of the country." He draws a long puff from the slow-burning Shisha and he exhales with a deep respect, "But the Circus, actually manages to bring a tangible commodity they also need - they really do need to laugh and smile. What they do is amazing." I can feel my heart swell, knowing that I'm proud to be associated with these clowns and on the way out, back to the Palm Hostel, I pick up a few beers for the alcohol-deprived girls. They're fast asleep by the time I get back (clowning around looks like pretty hard work) so I rest the cans on their pillows so that they'll each wake up cuddled up to a can of beer. My fuzzy shisha'd head tells me they deserve more. Especially since, odds-on are that they'll probably have caned those bevvies by midday tomorrow.
2 Comments:
They *are* doing a great job and you're doing one too.
But would it kill you to learn to cartwheel with your feet on fire?
Safe journey home.
Another good entry , have they not taught you any new tricks , could you not do some fire poi for them ?
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