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Uribe appointment undermines U.N. flotilla investigation

2010-08-03T13:45:00.000-07:00

http://mondoweiss.net/2010/08/uribe-appointment-undermines-u-n-flotilla-investigation.html

It was announced yesterday, August 2nd, that outgoing Colombian president Álvaro Uribe Vélez will be the Vice Chairman of the U.N.’s four-member international committee tasked with investigating the Israeli commando attack on the Gaza Freedom Flotilla. On May 31st, Israeli forces attacked the MV Mavi Marmara, a Turkish ship manned by international activists delivering aid supplies to the besieged Gaza Strip. The ensuing confrontation left nine activists dead and dozens wounded and sparked international criticism of Israel.

Prior international investigations and condemnation have done little to change Israel’s colonial policies in occupied Palestinian territories. Appointing Uribe to this latest investigation preemptively undermines its credibility.

It’s difficult to catalogue and summarize the various political scandals that have plagued Uribe’s 8-year presidency. Three days before the announcement of Uribe’s appointment to the U.N. committee, the Colombian press reported the outgoing president’s verbal attack against Colombian Supreme Court Magistrate Yesid Ramirez, after Ramirez asked the nation’s prosecutor general to open an investigation into allegations that the president’s son, Tomás Uribe, bribed congressmen to ensure his father's re-election in 2006. The recent scandal is only the latest in one of many of Uribe’s public displays of contempt for the Colombian judiciary, the most famous of which was his outrage at the Court’s nixing of a referendum that would have allowed Uribe to run for a third presidential term.

More significant than political tumult or charges of corruption is Uribe’s contempt for international law, demonstrated by his government’s illegal use of the International Red Cross emblem in a hostage rescue mission in July 2008. Uribe admitted using the Red Cross emblem in the mission - which successfully duped the guerrilla into releasing several high profile hostages, including three Americans and one former Colombian presidential candidate – but dismissed the violation as a “mistake” committed by a soldier in a “state of angst”. Immediately following the mission, the Red Cross released a statement urging all sides to respect the ICRC emblem, but did not pursue the issue further. The Geneva Conventions prohibit improper use of the Red Cross logo.

As Uribe’s new appointment entrusts him with investigating the deaths of civilian activists, the most alarming aspect of his 8-year tenure is his government’s well-documented history of killing civilians and then presenting them as fallen guerrilla fighters or “terrorist sympathizers”. Starting in 2008, it was widely reported that the Colombian military had an established practice of luring poor young men from their homes with promises of employment, and subsequently killing them and presenting them as combat casualties. The practice not only served to stack battle statistics, but also financially benefited the soldiers involved, as Uribe’s government had, since 2005, awarded monetary and vacation bonuses for each insurgent killed. Human rights groups cite 3,000 or more of these so-called “false positives”. In response to the scandal, Uribe dismissed some of the military’s high command. But even when his critics are proven right, as was the case with the “false positives” scandal, Uribe steadfastly maintains a rhetoric that equates human rights defenders with armed terrorists. His attitude was most famously exemplified in a speech made in 2003:

“In Colombia, every time a security policy to defeat terrorism appears, when terrorists begin to feel weak, they immediately send out spokespeople to talk about human rights.”

Israeli claims that participants in the humanitarian aid flotilla, including those who lost their lives, were likely linked to “terrorist” organizations seem to echo Uribe’s vitriol. After the May 31st Israeli massacre in international waters, Fox News reported Israeli ambassador to Denmark, Arthur Avnon, as saying:

“Before the flotilla entered Israeli waters, rumor had it that the organizers [of the aid initiative] had links with the al Qaeda terrorist network… The people on board were not so innocent ... and I cannot imagine that another country would react any differently.”

One might surmise that Israel bowed to international pressure to participate in the U.N. probe because it sees a kindred spirit in Uribe, hardly an impartial arbiter of international humanitarian law and human rights. While the eventual outcome of the probe is still uncertain, Álvaro Uribe’s participation as Vice Chairman calls into question the sincerity of the U.N.’s investigation.
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Carmen Andrea Rivera is an independent journalist and activist based in Berkeley, California. She is currently a producer on the weekly radio magazine La Raza Chronicles (KPFA, 94.1 FM). Nico Udu-gama is an activist based in Washington, DC.

Self Defense Onboard the Mavi Marmara was Legitimate

2010-06-05T08:41:00.000-07:00

Israel, in dovish gestures of reconciliation, is now saying that those activist arrested today after noon onboard the MV Rachel Corrie are real human beings, with whom dialogue and reason is possible.

"We saw today the difference between a ship of peace activists, with whom we don't agree but respect their right to a different opinion from ours, and between a ship of hate organised by violent Turkish terror extremists ... waiting for our soldiers on the deck with axes and knives," the Israeli prime minister's office announced.

Less than a week after Israel's early morning commando raid of the Turkish-flagged humanitarian aid ship Mavi Marmara - part of the Free Gaza Freedom Flotilla designed to break the 3-year naval blockade of the Gaza Strip - Israel's defenders have gone from brutally murdering peace activists to becoming the judges of who is a really a "peace" activist and who is not.

Israeli talking-heads cited that activists "complied" with Israeli marines' requests to board the ship shortly after 9am on Saturday morning, the Apartheid state opting for ladders to board the vessel instead of masked-commandos dropped from helicopters. Of course, while Israel may disagree with these activists, it will be shown as proof positive that Israel tolerate disagreements with its policies as long as you submit to its methods and procedures. The activists aboard the MV Rachel Corrie, though they disobeyed Israeli calls to "voluntarily" reroute to the port of Ashdod, surely knew that any resistance to Israeli attempts to board their ship would be crushed with deadly violence.

However, let's be clear that it was only because of overwhelming world-wide condemnation of Israel (with the obvious exception of the United States) following the May 31st massacre onboard the Mavi Marmara that Israel's trigger fingers were calmed. That, and the fact that close to half of the activists onboard the MV Rachel Corrie were of Western European citizenship (the rest were Malaysian citizens); it's more uncomfortable for Israel when white people are killed or injured. EVERYDAY in Palestine - in the West Bank and Gaza - people are shot, maimed, tortured and imprisoned for peacefully resisting occupation. In demonstrations against the Apartheid Wall in the West Bank, it doesn't matter if you throw stones or you throw your hands in the air, Israeli soldiers aim at your head with live bullets or rubber-coated steel bullets. They will beat you, they will maim you, and if they can get away with it, they will kill you. The only reason that they are allowed to continue is because most of the world does not care about Palestine or Palestinians.

The ending of the occupation in Palestine and the breaking of the siege on Gaza will not come about only by passive resistance to Israeli crimes and massacres. Sabotage, property destruction and self-defense, while they should not be the primary focus of struggle, are legitimate responses to occupation, invasion and racism, and should be employed. We should salute activists aboard the Rachel Corrie and the Mavi Marmara, as well as Palestinians and peoples around the world engaged in struggles of liberation, for their courageous and heroic stances.

UC Berkeley Student Senate and the Dangerous Politics of Neutrality

2010-04-29T14:01:00.000-07:00

http://www.kaosenlared.net/noticia/universidad-california-berkeley-israel-peligrosa-politica-neutralidad

Early this morning, the University of California Berkeley’s student senate voted 13 – 5 (with one abstention) to override the veto of a bill calling on the University to divest from General Electric and United Technologies, two U.S. companies supplying helicopters and weapons to Israel. Fourteen votes were needed to override the student government president’s veto; the bill failed. A similar action at UC San Diego was tabled (read: it will be killed, too).

Just like that. In the face of the overwhelming facts presented about the 2008-09 Israeli aggression on Gaza and of unbearable life under occupation, UCB’s senate unfortunately took the moral low ground, the road of indifference and shame well-traveled by all U.S. politicians. A road that equates ‘neutrality’ with allowing U.S. companies to support racist occupation and equip Israel with the bullets and bombs needed to cut down Palestinians. A nausea-inducing road that insists that any hint of criticism of Israel means that you hate Jews.

To those who voted for divestment, I must admit, it took courage. I imagine that it’s not very often that the Israeli consul general and the rest of the AIPAC (the main U.S. pro-Israel lobby) make a visit to a university in order to exert pressure. As AIPAC campus brainwasher Jonathan Kessler [1] remarked shortly after the initial passing of the bill in March, “we’re going to make sure that pro-Israel students take over the student government and reverse the vote… This is how AIPAC operates in our nation’s capital. This is how AIPAC must operate on our nation’s campuses.”

(No doubt student government president Will Smelko had already been primed long before he delivered his veto, blocking divestment, claiming that there wasn’t enough “debate on the topic”. He chose to ignore over 6 hours of democratic debate held prior to the initial passing of the bill.)

The students who supported divestment also had to listen to a psychotic ex-IOF (Israeli Occupation Forces) soldier – “The IDF always takes care of Palestinians!” - and a sprinkling of over-privileged JAPs (Jewish American Princesses) – “I feel scared now”. No amount of presentation of facts during last night’s 4-hour debate (not including two prior all-night debates) could keep Israel supporters from tying divestment to hate-attacks on Jews. Though the bill targeted U.S. companies who supported the Israeli occupation of Palestine, throughout the night I cringed at the interpretation offered by divestment opponents that no bombs and weapons for the occupation meant that the Nazis would come out of their closets and round up Berkeley’s Jews. Does San Francisco contemplating the sanctioning of Arizona because of that state’s racist policy against immigrants mean that people will start attacking white people on the BART? Ok, maybe it’s not exactly the same thing, but the point is, hate crimes and racism will exist even if G.E. and United Technology go out of business. Supporting the racist occupation of Palestine and the murder of Palestinians only facilitates blind and bigoted racist attacks on pro-Israel supporters.

How many times in America do we hear the same argument raised again and again when talking about the Israel-Palestine conflict, that “we just don’t have enough information”? Those senators who voted against the bill out of a sense of ‘neutrality’ are just as guilty as those paid to whitewash the crimes of Israeli occupation. Their quick path to the halls of success in the U.S. Congress is polished with the blood of Palestinians.

But, for those of us who refuse to ignore injustice, who can’t help but dry-heave when the occupation of Palestine is viewed as a ‘safety measure for Jews’, who can see through the double-speak, our work was never easy, and never will be. So there is no point in hanging up the towel now. After supporters of divestment left the MLK center, distraught over the outcome, one man addressed the crowd and reminded us about that the first time students pushed for divestment from Apartheid South Africa, they failed. The second time, the National Guard was called out. And the third time, they won.

We are winning.

[1] http://www.muzzlewatch.com/2010/04/07/aipac-well-take-over-the-uc-berkeley-student-government/

Hello

2010-03-21T05:56:00.001-07:00

Sometimes, nowadays, as I sit around and reflect, images of Palestine come racing back. Little snapshots of times spent laughing my heart out, playing a joke; running from a low-hanging cumulous cloud of tear gas, or cursing the faceless soldier whose bullet whizzes past my face; feeling the impotence of life under occupation. There was hoola hooping with little Sarita outside her home in Sheikh Jarrah, occupied by people carrying out ‘God´s will’. For her, it was playtime; for me, a chance to break the routine of watching out for trouble, to just pretend for a second that after playing, we’ll go back into her house and I’ll sit her down on my knees in front of the TV, and everyone will be laughing and eating sweets and talking about local gossip. But that won’t happen today or tomorrow. Maybe never.

I think about this circle of violence that always seems to run through history, looping over and over again like a broken record. Around me, in my everyday immediacies, I can find examples of change, or at least some hope that things will change. A friendship, an understanding, a good community, a local butcher. Then I take a step back but the rest of the world seems to be spinning out of control. A 16 year-old boy killed in Nablus, shot in the back by another faceless soldier. Or a quiet American woman named Ellen, to whom everything seems to happen, this time finding herself on an operating table, the doctors removing a Israeli rubber bullet from her shattered wrist.

The U.S. is having disagreements with Israel over planned Jewish construction in Jerusalem! The media tells us of Israeli restraint, of the worst ‘diplomatic crisis in decades’. Do they dare remind us how a few years back, there was another ‘crisis’ when Israel planned to build in Jabal Abu Ghneim, near Bethlehem? Yes, there was a ‘crisis’ then, too. But now go to Jabal Abu Ghneim – now known mostly by its Israeli name, Har Homa – and you will see that there are no more trees, just concrete and Israeli flags. How easily we forget.

And so, we are turned again to Palestine and the Palestinians. Always this indecipherable blob of something to us. They never have the right to be individuals, just a collective enigma, a pestilent sore that won’t go away. They have no right to be lovers, fathers, sisters, dreamers, wanderers, achievers, punks. Just this body of stuff upon which history repeats itself. They aren’t allowed to break from the cycle of violence. It just happens to them.

I don’t have much to say, really; I just think too much these days. The spring is coming, to Europe, to Palestine, to Berkeley, California. There are birds outside my window. Green buds on tree branches. But I feel nervous.

There’s a little turtle in an aquarium beside me, and he is always moving about. If I put my finger in, he eagerly comes out of his shell to investigate it. He’s always scratching at the glass trying to get out. I wonder if he feels anxious.

Belgrade 5-o

2010-03-20T07:07:00.000-07:00

"Passports, please!"

That was the Serbian police officer's welcome as my Belgrade-Budapest train left the station. Ok, here you go. After flipping around the pages, he seemed to not find what he was looking for. He frowned, then his face lit up.

Almost smiling he said: "You are in offense. You did not register with the police after 24 hours in our country. You must get off the train with me in Novi Sad, go to the judge and pay 300 euro."

I just stared at him, disbelieving. Just what I needed. As if to prove that he wasn't lying, he asked the sobbing Swedish girl next to me (he wasn't crying for me: she had just left her boyfriend) to produce her registration card, which she did. She's a Swede, damn it, of course SHE would know that stupid law. Stupid Scandanavians.

But my police officer was already thinking.

"I will call my superior and see what I can do." He left, only to reappear after 2 minutes, still smiling. "Come with me, I am not sure I can help you. Please bring your stuff."

The other Serbian student in my cabin told me not to worry as I grabbed my stuff and followed Happy Cop #1 into the hallway. He directed me into the next cabin, which was empty. There were two options running through my head: either they were going to beat me with their batons, or mine their American treasure chest.

I looked like a total sucker.

"Well, I will try to get you a lower offense, with a lower fine. I'm trying to do everything for you, because I think you are nice." I was literally shaking out of the excitement of having to bribe a police officer. That would be fun. "Let me make another phone call." He stepped out the cabin. Through the reflection in the window, I could see him stand in the hallway, put the phone to his head, and say nothing. He returned after 45 seconds, still smiling. Cocky SOB.

"Well, I lied for you and said that you had lost your card. He said that you can pay 50 euro here on the train and no problem." Well, I admitted, I only have some 3,000 dinar on me (about 30 euro), but I also have some Macedonian money.

He didn't miss a beat. "No, that's ok, pay what you can in dinar." He wadded the bills behind his badge in his police wallet, those types that they flip open when they show you their badge and say: "POLICE. Can I take your money?" Classic.

The milking complete, the new story began, with a better ending. "You know," he relaxed into his seat. His colleague, who had been silent the entire time, continued staring out the window. "I like Americans. I just don't like your government."

"That makes two of us."

I don't think he expected that because he proceeded to interrogate me about my position on Kosovo (I don't have a strong opinion, but I toed the official line: no separatism!), about Obama (he's the same!), and Iraq and Afghanistan (where's that?). Having satisfied his curiosity, he relaxed some more. We proceeded to discuss the merits of not voting in a system where you don't have real choices. He believed that all governments were crap. My heart sang: "An anarchist! He's an anarchist! La la laa dee daa!" He was shocked to learn that we don't have universal health care in the US; he was under the impression that the empire takes everything from the rest of the world to take care of (US)Americans. I learned that the bribe I just paid him was 10% of his monthly salary; but, he exclaimed, "we here in Serbia have fun with or without money!"

The politic discussion fast melted into talk about girls, music, parties. He was really into 50cent. (What's with that? I saw 50cent concert posters all throughout the Balkans. Apparently, he is on his "Before I Self Destruct" Tour. Lame.) I told him that 50cent was crap, and he should check out Dead Prez, or maybe Immortal Technique (the image of Immortal Technique ripping off his shirt in concert to expose another shirt with a hammer and sickle made me think that Happy Cop #1 would like him.) Do I have Facebook? (After so many random people asking me to join, I feel like I MUST be missing out on something here.)

Happy Cop #2 joined in the party and played some Billy Idol on his phone. They started arguing, each telling the other to turn down the music so that I could judge which music was better (Tupac won). They liked my joke about George Bush jumping out an airplane. I honestly forgot to tell them my "a string walks into a bar" joke.

After over an hour of laughing (I am sure my previous cabin-mates next to us must have been wondering what the hell was going on), they had to leave the train at Novi Sad. We said our goodbyes. I was wondering if out of conscience, he would return the money, but he didn't. That's ok, it was worth it.

As he left, he turned around and asked me, "Are the police in America like me? I mean, do they talk to you?" I told him that generally, they blow, but there are good ones. "Are most Americans like you, really friendly?"

I thought, not usually; only when we get to bribe police officers.

The Mystery Land of No Borders

2010-03-17T07:02:00.000-07:00

At 5:57 in the morning, I managed to crawl into the train leaving the Thessaloniki station. I don't know how I did it, but somehow I managed to avoid a repeat of Barcelona New Year's 2009 fiasco, when I fell asleep at the airport gate, just missing my flight to Milan. At the Macedonian border, I got out to breathe some of that cold, crisp air. I sat down and enjoyed the scenery and pondered in my drunken bliss. We had partied all through the night. I felt like a silly 20-yr old again. Then those happy memories of me and Taz singing "Billy Jean", wearing transparent food-handling gloves, drunk on Greek chipero, shots of tequila and amaretto (so classy!), in some Thessaloniki karaoke bar suddenly turned into a moving train, marching on, leaving me behind...

It was the train. I ran and somehow managed to open the door and jump in as the platform pulled away behind me. My fellow passengers seemed relieved that I had made it, but my avalanching hangover only permitted a meek smile in response. We were now in Macedonia, Skopje-bound, racing along those railway lines that once stitched together Tito's vision of an ethnically diverse yet harmonious Yugoslavia. A dream that seemed to just fall to pieces...

The Balkans. I never imagined coming out here. Least of all ordering something called "Pig Hunger" from a small Skopjan restuarant. Don't worry, it turned out to be be just a piece of deep fried pork with french fries, and I tell you, it's the breakfast of champions. My goal was to get to Sarajevo, and I was told by the curious ticket saleswoman that I could 'simply' take a bus to Pristina and from there, anything is possible. Yes. My last memory before I passed out again in the bus station was: "Who is this woman across from me reading 'The Audacity of Hope'?"

1:18. I wake up and realize that the bus is leaving in 2 minutes and I don't know where I am. I'm only thinking "No more Barcelona!". I managed to find my bags at the locker and run to the bus and hop in. I've forgotten my manners. No "Buenas" greeting to everyone in the bus. But that's ok, they don't speak Spanish.

We pass another border, this one somewhat more contested that the Greek-Macedonian one. We are entering the "Free-World's" newest country... ladies and gentlemen, introducing Kosovo. One thing I will realize on the rest of my trip is that border stamps seem to be arbitrary. It's as though old Yugoslavia still exists, and I am just passing from one area to the other. What used to be areas of a federation are now countries! Imagine if Florida became it's own country (then we could bomb Little Havana...). But when I leave Macedonia, I get no stamp, nor do I get one entering Kosovo, or leaving it. I don't get one leaving Montenegro or leaving Bosnia. What the hell is this?

Back to the story. Still with me? Kosovo is a mass of mountains and mines. I meet a frustrated Italian furniture salesman ("Cazzo! These people don't know real style!") who tells me that parts of Kosovo used to yield three crops a year. Other than that, at least in the winter, it is snow and mud and yuck. Or maybe that was my hangover still clouding my judgement.

But about 2 hours south of Pristina, I wake up as the bus stops. One man speaking English with an Eastern European accent gets off the bus, followed by an African American dude with a red bandana and a growing belly. His accent and demeanor catch my attention. A fellow traveler? I watch him as he exits the bus, looks around, and smiles at some men in a car who were waiting for him. The Eastern European has already left. The bus pulls off.

I connect some dots later. The town we pass after the 'drop-off' is Ferizaj. The biggest employer in Ferizaj, and undoubtedly all of Kosovo, is right there: US Camp Bondsteel. I've heard rumors that you can see it from space. One of the US' big wins from the ethnic cleansing of Kosovo and the ensuing NATO bombing of Serbia was Camp Bondsteel, built by Kellogg, Brown and Root (KBR; similar to Halliburton) and destined to replace US 'tenancy' of German and other European bases (as focus shifts more on the Middle East and its oil). In fact, that little train from Thessaloniki to Skopje most likely passed over a network of pipelines, all of which is neatly under Camp Bondsteel's 7,000-man watch. I remember reading an article a few years back about how US military bases in the Balkans, namely Kosovo, were acting as mini-Guantamo's in the US 'War on Terror'. It made me think what those Americans in civilian clothing were doing out there. It's understandable why the Americans were so eager for Kosovan independence, and why some Serbs still still hate America (we also bombed them in 99 and put them under sanctions, Iraq-style), though we still claim that our Kosovo intervention was purely humanitarian, even "charity" or a "mission to civilize the Serbs". A sign outside the bus station in Pristina waves an American flag and in big, bold letters: "Bill Clinton".

The only interaction I had with an angry Serb was in a small village 2km away from the site of the July 1995 Srebrenica massacre, where over 8,000 Muslims were exterminated. (While Bill Clinton kept up an arms embargo on the Bosnian Muslims at the beginning of the 90s, he was at least able to send over $1 million for a memorial. Thanks, Bill!) Afterwards, returning to the town of Bratunac, I had talked with an Austrian master sergeant of the LOT EUROFOR observer mission who told me that while this area used to be Muslim, under the Dayton Accords which pacified the tensions, Serbs were allowed to take over, and now account for over 90% of the population. However, the two groups "don't fight anymore. Sometimes they argue, but that's normal."

Mind you, I was in Republika Srpska, the autonomous region of the Federation of Bosnia and Hercegovina, dominated by Serbs. (Republika Srpska practically covers half, or more than half, of Bosnia, if you eyeball the map.) Eyes had been watching me then, as they had while I ate Serbian goulash and read a biography of Tito. As I waited in the bus station, a middle-aged police officer in a leather jacket with the insignia of Republika Srpska approached me and asked for my passport. The other passengers watched on curiously. "American? Huff!" he exclaimed. He took my passport for further inspection, though he really didn't know what to do with it. Just to show that Americans are not too appreciated. (Many Serbs acknowledge that while they did wrong, their grievances weren't understood...). I just smiled and thought about how stupid cops were.

But that was the only incident. Here in Belgrade people have been warm and friendly, and understand that it was "the government, not the people". We carried out collective punishment, collateral damage, for the crimes of Milosevic. They wisely point out Iraq and Afghanistan. My friends here lived under sanctions, and remember how a 500,000,000,000 dinar note was once printed, a doctor's monthly salary could buy a liter of gas and the only shows on TV were Mexican soaps like "Cassandra". I can imagine why now, young people just want to party and have fun. Last night we hitch-hiked through Belgrade, getting rides with two young potato salesmen and some young punks hotboxing their car, and ended up in some weird Goth, Rammstein-blaring rave/bondage underground bar. As we took the bus back home, the rising sun cast its rays on an old bombed out building, 5 minutes from the American Embassy, unexploded NATO bombs still inside the wreckage. Apparently, the Serbs don't have the expertise to defuse them, and the Americans haven't sent over a team yet.

It was the same in Sarajevo, the city where Gavrilo Princip and the "Black Hand" triggered WWI with the magnicide of Archduke Ferdinand and his wife. I walked past the market where a bomb killed 68 civilians (its disputed if Muslim rebels purposefully killed their own people, or it was the Serbs who were laying seige to the city for 4 years), past the bullet-ridden stores and homes, the rebuilt mosques and churches. Maybe 10,000 people died or went missing in the city alone. People are tired of war, they want to move on. Ironically, there is a debate in Serbia whether or not to join NATO (!). I was told by the Italian that the only calm place is in Montenegro; my memory is a 2am bus station bar in Podgorica, sleeping at a table, while old, toothless men boozed up on Montenegran Rakija (close to vodka, or Greek ouzo, or Colombian aguardiente... I am becoming an expert). Seemed calm enough.

I recommend seeing "Lepa Sela, Lepo Gore" (Pretty Village, Pretty Flame). It's by a Serbian director, and while I think it still is biased (the Muslim protagonist in the end seems darker and more evil, while the Serb protagonist remains white, albeit with a mixed conscience), it does a fairly good job of relating the reality. (Much better than "Hurt Locker", which made me almost throw up.)

That's enough long writing. Wherever I go, I meet amazing people, generous with time and smiles. They've lived war and conflicts, poverty and revolution, and they manage to keep going. Despite all the politicking, the backstabbing, the collateral damage and the deceit, they continue. Trying to be happy and being normal amidst the madness can be a pretty revolutionary thing.

Hasta pronto...

Decisions

2010-03-12T04:13:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, long after the 20,000-strong march through Thessaloniki had ended, and chants were replaced by car horns, and the tear gas had dissolved over the sea, and the rock I warmed in my pocket had long since taken flight, I found myself sitting at the train station. No buying tickets to Skopje: the railway employees were on strike. (Greek newspapers put strike participation around 90%. Pretty impressive.)

As I sat, I saw a Greek taxi driver trying to understand a man who was pleading for help in Arabic. Two young kids approached me, greeting me with "salaam aleikum". They were Afghanis. Gesturing for my phone, they said "Missed call!" The smallest of the two had a fresh pink scar under his right eye, but seemed to be always smiling.

As they made their missed call (93 country code IS Afghanistan, right?), the Syrian man approaches me and asks if I speak Arabic. Imagine my surprise when he showers me with kisses when I understand him. The story: they have all - there are more immigrants inside the station - been let of out jail yesterday night after spending over a month in prison. When they were arrested at the Turkish border, the police, claiming they were 'mafiosos', confiscated all their money, and took the batteries out of their cell phones. They released them at the Thessaloniki train station. I thought about Amadeu Casellas, the Spanish anarchist jailed for robbing banks to fund workers' struggles, who was released around the same time.

There were also some Algerians and Syrians who later came up to me. We talked about Palestine. I remembered 14-year old Ehab who lays in a coma after the Israelis shot him in the head in An-Nabi Salih. They had traveled far, only to be stuck in the 'doorway to Europe' and they hated Greece.

The story quickly dissolved into attempts to get 'a brother' to send money from Germany via Western Union through my name. Phone calls. Missed calls. Food. Taking pictures. I talked to young Sarah on the other line who was supposed to be the niece of the Syrian man, but didn't know him and was terrified that he was yelling at her to get her father. I tried to talk to her. "Spricken Deutsch?" I wasn't sure why I asked that, because I don't speak any German myself. But she responded in Arabic, "my father isn't home." The Syrian was getting hysterical and I was starting to get annoyed with him. What else COULD he be? What else could I do?

The Greek taxi driver came up to me after awhile and asked why I was doing all of this. I replied that wherever I had been, people had helped me, so why shouldn't I help them? He told me about how he once helped some Afghan immigrants and they jumped out of his car without paying, after he had driven them down from Thessaloniki. Yes, I said, anything can happen.

I said goodnight to Europe's newest economic and political refugees, and promised to return this morning to see if we would have any success with Western Union. I asked a Palestinian kid who had a few euros on him if he would leave to Athens, where he had a contact. He said that he would wait until everyone was ok. Solidarity?

In the morning, the Afghans were gone. Their missed call to Afghanistan had called back with contacts for Athens. The Athens friend had contacted and had somehow helped them. I was happy. At least one good story. A young Algerian was ecstatic that the card I bought him allowed him to talk to his sick mother. The Palestinian was still there.

And the Syrian was passing between bouts of depression and anger. He frustration at times turned on me when I couldn't understand everything he was saying. We walked to Western Union, followed by a North African - presumably Algerian - who claimed to be Syrian. Algeria asked me:

"Are you Muslim?"

I winced at the question, because I hated getting it, but I knew how to respond, and everyone who had ever asked me didn't mind my reply.

"No."

His smile faded. "Fi muskila?" I asked if there was a problem.

"Yes. Fi mushkila."

I looked away as the Syrian man yelled at him. His defense of me didn't prevent me from wanting to smash the Algerian. The Algerian quietly said he was joking and patted me on the back, but I didn't say anything. I didn't want religion and their anger at the West to be played out on me, but could I help it? Could he help zealously being proud of the last thing that gave him a shred of dignity over the sleepless nights, the jail, the hunger and the dirt? The Palestinian had asked me if lying to an Orthodox priest - they told him that they were Christian Arabs in order for him to give them food - was bad. I had told them that he may have given it even if he knew they were Muslim. He disagreed. Inside, I questioned myself: had the priest known, would he have helped?

The Algerian played his hand at asking for cigarettes. I refused. I could imagine the anti-immigrant debaters laughing at me. You sucker, they are taking advantage of you! They are all the same!

I wanted to run, to leave them and never come back. To not care about what happened with them. There were thousands of people rotting all over the world, trying to survive, why the hell should I take care of these people? I still don't know. Maybe another day I would have seen them in the train station and not paid attention. Maybe I would be in a rush. Maybe I would be that person walking with his girlfriend, too in love to see the misery of the world. Maybe I would be that traveler in two days passing by them with my bags on my way to Skopje, passport in hand, ready to have a new adventure.

In about 40 minutes, I leave to go back and find out if we can do the Western Union deal again. I'm nervous. What else can I feel?

http://www.immigrantsolidarity.org

Greece on the Move

2010-03-10T00:29:00.000-08:00

First of all, Happy International Women's Day... belatedly.

Most of my week here in Thessaloniki has been surprisingly not-Greek oriented. I've been learning more about the past (and present) conflicts in the Balkans rather than conflicts here in Greece. Well, we do what we can. So much of the news has not been dedicated to the general strikes happening around the country, but rather to the Greek Paris Hilton: Julia. (If you do a Google search of "Julia Greece", you can download the singer's porn video that is so shocking Greece.)

Thessaloniki is not the picturesque Greek I expected, or that we see in the movies or travel guides (duh). It's a fairly large port city whose streets resemble Barcelona's L'Eixample neighborhood, albeit with narrower streets and far more traffic. And it's cold now, the wind really bites into your face as you walk down Nikis (Victory) Boulevard, past the statue of Alexander the Great (one dispute Greece has with neighboring Macedonia is that the name Macedonia is part of Greek heritage and can't be used by a largely Slavic population... boring) and the "White Tower". The White Tower is the symbol of Thessaloniki. It was an Ottoman Empire-age prison whose stone walls used to be stained red with the blood of executed prisoners who were hung from the cornice. It was whitewashed after the collapse of the Ottoman Empire.

One thing I miss about the Middle East was not having to do street battle with my arch-nemesis: dog shit. It's bountiful here.

'
I'm reading a book right now called "Unholy Alliance", about Greece's alliance with Milosevic's Serbia. Greece was the only NATO and EU-member nation that supported (and very much openly so) the Serbs during the Balkan wars. The author, reknowned Greek journalist Takis Michas, claims that this alliance was due in part to religion and a shared sense of history. Both Serbs and Greeks are Orthodox, and viewed the wars as an attack by the Muslim Crescent (with Greek's arch-rival, Turkey, somewhere in the background pulling the strings) and the Catholics (the Croats, Vatican, etc.). Serb chetniks helped defend against Nazi occupation during WWII. And something about ancient kingdoms allying at the border of the Ottoman and Hapsburg empires. Greek Orthodox priests visited and prayed with Greek paramilitary units working alongside Serb Chetnik forces, the same forces who committed some 90% of human rights violations during the war. In short, Greece likes Serbia.

In setting up an understanding of this alliance, Michas describes early in his book three facets of Greek ethnic nationalism (which he opposes to civic nationalism, or being Greek based on universal citizenship rights). Religion (Greeks hold on to the uniqueness of their Greek Orthodoxy), shared geneology (the Hellenic culture) and language (Greek).

I mentioned to my friend that this type of nationalism, in my opinion, was similar to that experienced in Israel, where language, shared geneology and religion plays a big factor in "Israeli" collective identity. If you are not able to fully enjoy these three qualities, you are not really Israeli. Just ask any Arab citizen of Israel. Al-Jazeera reported recently on Israel's immigrants, many of them children born and bred in Israel, who may be deported at the end of the summer back to their countries of origin.

My friend didn't much like the comparison, but questioned how someone who wasn't "really Greek" could become a citizen; with so few Greeks (11 million), allowing so many immigrants in would make Greece "less Greek". Apparently, she is on the conservative side of the debate that is raging over the PASOK (socialist) government's proposal to grant citizenship to all their immigrants. A good article by Douglas Muir points out that even the current Archbishop of Athens (the head of the Greek Orthodox Church), is actually an "Arvanite", ethnic Albanians incorporated into the Greek state at the time of independence. No one even realizes this, and he points it out to show that Greek culture is not static and is capable of admitting many cultures and still retaining its identity.

To be fair, proportionately, in seems as though Greece is taking in the lion's share of undocumented workers. For a cash-strapped country, that can cause a heavy burden. (UPDATE: Thanks to Carmen for pointing out the idiocy of this previous statement.In her words, "anti immigrant movements are racist and always have been." I agree and pardon the previous statement). I remember as I crossed the Turkey-Greece border, there was one black youth on our bus. As soon as we entered Greece, I knew there would be problems when the border police started looking at him sternly. He was taken off the bus and detained, on the suspicion that his passport was fake.

Of course, not everyone shares my friend's point of view. Last year, after a Pakistani youth died in police custody, people took to the streets and battled the police. At least among the anarchists, it was seen as another example of the police brutality that caused massive rioting in December 2008. On March 20th, there will be demonstrations held for allowing immigrants - children especially - to become citizens.

Greek society seems to be super dynamic, and changing everyday. The strikes called against the EU and the privatization schemes as a response to the debt are constants. There was an uproar over a recent suggestion by German MPs that Greece should sell some of their islands, an overtly imperialist and patronizing statement that sent Greeks running around rumoring a second German occupation of the nation. This Thursday is another strike here in Thessaloniki and I'll be sure to be there.

Meanwhile, popular 'expropriations' of food are still being carried out against large supermarket chains, and in Robin Hood style, the goods are being distributed in needy communities. Enjoy the video!

"A Letter Home", from Palestine

2010-03-09T05:07:00.000-08:00

A friend from the International Solidarity Movement, the group I was involved with in Palestine, wrote a beautiful letter about the recent events in Palestine. It makes me cry, and I would like to share it with all of you.
___________

Hi All,

I hope this letter finds you well.

A brief note: It has been brought to my attention that people were reluctant to forward or respond after news of the raids in February. Anything I send out is intended for as massive an audience as possible, and it’s really critical that people continue to do the great job that they have done of forwarding on. Similarly, I really appreciate hearing from people and your emails in no way endanger either of us.

I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to write a new update. To be entirely honest, things have been increasingly difficult and the thought of writing home has been too intimidating to even consider.

This morning as I watched the sun rise over Sheikh Jarrah, I finally found a way of verbalizing what it is that’s been going on.

Events I reference: Bulldozer destruction near Bethlehem to build the apartheid wall: http://palsolidarity.org/2010/03/11629

The shooting of Ehab Bargouthi, age 14: http://palsolidarity.org/2010/03/11666

The destruction of Bidya’s natural spring: http://palsolidarity.org/2010/03/11679

The beating by riot police of five ISM activists (myself included) on Saturday night following a Sheikh Jarrah solidarity demonstration. We were standing on a sidewalk. This story hasn’t been published yet due to legal considerations; check the website in the next few days.

A Letter Home

There are moments where I just can’t take it in. Palestine—something tangible that you could hold in your hand—or more precisely, something slipping between your fingers before you can really know what it is you’re losing. Something beautiful. We are witnesses to more destruction than we will ever comprehend.

I watch the girls walking to school in their navy uniforms and I wonder how they fit into Israel’s 100 year plan.

I sit in the fig tree in Sheikh Jarrah and wonder if Saleh will be able to collect the fruit that ripens this autumn.

The al-Kurd house is in court tomorrow. When the petals fall from the roses blooming in the walkway, who will sweep them up?

Ehab’s chest rises and falls with the steady force of the ICU respirator. His olivey feet, scrubbed impossibly clean, reach beyond the wadded up sheets. Somehow they are perfect and human. A reminder of the entire person hidden behind the head swaddled in a manner reminiscent of playing “mummies” with rolls of toilet paper. Whether he will live or die is anyone’s guess. And I am told to approach his anguished mother with “Alhemdullileh, Allah salamtu”. Praise God. Thanks God everything is always ok.

On a live Rachel Corrie special for Tulkarem TV, I take a deep breath and promise the cameras that the American people are good. That we don’t know what we are doing and if we did, we would stop. In that moment and in every breath before and since, I am begging and pleading the gods I don’t believe in—please, somehow, could this be true. Would we stop? Can my home place, with its glacier-capped peaks and loamy farmland, ever understand the horror of bulldozers the size of two-car garages gently scooping ancient olive trees out of the pungent earth? Can my people ever see that they give $20 to Oxfam to rebuild the school their year-end taxes destroyed? No stack of Benjamins can reconstruct the children plucked from this god-forsaken holy land, each as fragile and loved as Ehab.

As the settler father leaves the house this morning, he carefully pushes his daughter’s stroller with one hand; closes the gate and then tugs his shirt over the pistol at his waist with the other. Who are those bullets for? The mother of five who sits in a plastic lawn chair across the street from her home? Her son, 20, who watches his father routinely arrested for refusing to allow his dignity to be swept away with last night’s bonfire ashes?

We can stand in the secluded basin, the sun beating down on the olive trees, but it’s too late to stop the five pale-legged Israelis dumping bag after bag of concrete into the village spring. The soldiers protecting the sun-hatted settlers make us close our cameras—it’s a Closed Military Zone. They stare, arms crossed, as I search their faces for an answer. Does any one of them truly believe that “security” justifies gratuitous vandalism? One dark-eyed boy is surely no older than I. If only he could know the hospitality which advises me, “You are welcome in your home”. If only he could hold sleeping five-year-old Samaa, her dark hair fanned out across the blankets, and wonder if she will live to see al-Aqsa. If only he could know that after the riot cops beat us Saturday night, someone produced a giant box of sandwiches. Would he ever again protect the destruction of something so simple and pure as a natural spring?

Palestine is slipping through our fingers. Every one of my International friends (family?) has dissolved in tears this week. Most of our friends in Sheikh Jarrah have been, or live in fear of, arrest for resisting the confiscation of their family homes. Four have been arrested in the past 36 hours.

I will never forget the feeling of being violently ripped from my friends, both Palestinian and International, as we were beaten to the ground that night. In a tangle of arms reaching for each other, being dragged by the hair as others’ heads were kicked like soccer balls, I realized I felt no concern for my own safety. The safety of the people I love; the communities we belong to; are frighteningly threatened. If there should be anything for little Samaa to grow up to; any figs for Saleh to collect this fall; any reason for Ehab to awaken from his coma; we must act in ways stronger than a few dollars carelessly tossed at erasing Israel’s destruction.

We must end systems that use bulldozers to smash swingsets in order to build walls of 25-foot-high concrete slabs. We must act to redirect your income from planting a bullet in Ehab’s skull. We must act because Palestine is slipping away, and there is no way to describe the beauty of an olive grove or a spring or a teenage boy. These are things that America destroys without knowing.

Shukran, Thanks,

E.S.

ISM reports: palsolidarity.org

What can you do? bdsmovement.net

Film showings are always a great idea. Occupation 101 and Peace, Propaganda and the Promised Land are available at freedocumentaries.org

Every U.S. man, woman, and child, gives roughly $8/year for Israeli defense spending.
Every U.S. taxpayer gives roughly $18/year for Israeli defense spending.

A Glimpse into the Netherworld of Jordanian Industrial Zones

2010-03-01T09:14:00.000-08:00

I remember once when I was in Beirut's Hamra district, waiting for a take-away order of corn and ketchup breakfast pizza (it's tastier than it sounds, trust me). This tiny woman in a short, pink dress was ordering bread from the owner, who was attempting to seduce her with big grins and flour on his face. She definitely was south-asian, and my curiosity got the better of me.

"Are you Sri Lankan?" She sheepishly smiled and said yes. We talked a little bit more about where exactly she was from, about my background, and I think I tried to throw in a little bit of Singhalese, in vain. Well, nothing happened; she got her bread, I got my strange pizza, and we went our separate ways. But I had heard so much about slave-labor conditions of Asian immigrants in the Middle East that this encounter left me wondering, I wonder what she goes through.

Yesterday I left Palestine, passing Jericho on the Rehavam Ze'evi highway and crossing the Jordan valley over the King Hussein Bridge. (Just a sidenote about that highway: Rehavam Ze'evi was the ultra-right wing Minister of Tourism who supported the idea of forced relocation of Palestinians. He was assasinated by a PFLP hit-squad in Jerusalem in 2001, in revenge for the assasination of PFLP leader, Abu Ali Mustapha. The PFLP - Palestinian Front for the Liberation of Palestine - is in theory a Marxist organization founded in the 60s to fight Zionism and is considered a terrorist organization by the US of A; the Abu Ali Mustapha Brigades is the military wing. The highway, ironically, is given Ze'evi's nickname, "Gandhi", not because he promoted non-violent resistance to occupation, but because as a bespectacled lad in the army, he was skinny and the nickname stuck.)

The rains were heavy as I got into Amman, but today they eased up. I have always thought Jordan to be boring, an Amman is just one big slab of concrete. People always tell me to go see Petra, and I'm sure it's beautiful, but that gets old after awhile. So I decided to take a peek at Jordan's free-trade zones. Of course, I haven't read enough or been here long enough to openly pass judgement, so I will do so silently. (Free-trade zones = slave labor? At least, that's the story, right?)

I had just visited the tomb of the historic PFLP founder, George Habash, located in a quiet Christian-only cemetery just east of the Sahab suburb of Amman. Sahab is a industrial zone area, a dirty, glum concrete jungle. The industrial park stretches for miles, with 18-wheelers constantly coming in and out of guarded compounds, headed for neighboring countries by land, or to further destinations, leaving their goods at Jordan's Red Sea port city of Aqaba.

My taxi driver was confused when I told him to drive into the Al-Tajamouat Industrial Zone. The security guards seem to be bored and just nodded at us. Al-Tajamouat got a lot of bad publicity after the US-based National Labor Committee ran a series of articles and publications about sub-human work conditions at the zone; you can read more here. The managing director was trained by USAID after Jordan and the US signed a Free Trade Agreement in 2000. I walked around. There were many closed restaurants, with signs written in Hindi and English, proclaiming that they served authentic Indian, Bangladeshi and Sri Lankan food. There are a few international call centers, offering calls to Sri Lanka for .02 dinars a minute (about 3 US cents). And of course, there is a Western Union, the scavenging vultures of the capitalist world.

I walk into a small store. Two middle-aged men, speaking Bengali, are buying some cardamom and some other spices. There are plenty of spicy red chilies for sale, and I see a bottle of woodapple jam, bottled by that ubiquitous Sri Lankan brand, MD. Then my eyes light up as I spot a package of Lemon Puffs. After so many years, that yellow package can still make my mouth water (screw you, Switzerland). I buy a pack.

The owner is a Bangladeshi, and we converse in broken Arabic and English. When I ask him about how conditions are here, his smile fades and he stops talking. Then he says "Ok, bye bye". I take that as an invitation to leave. Maybe I smelled bad. Or maybe he was worried that I was an informant.

I continue to walk around. Lots of buildings with small windows. At one building, hundreds of people are pouring out. They seem to be workers, all South-asian, mostly men, but with a few women as well. I walk in where the workers are leaving. At the end of the corridor, a security guard is locking the door as the last worker leaves. The worker spots me and directs me back out. "Problems for you", he says quickly in broken Arabic. "Are you Sri Lankan? Looking for work?"

Amusing that he thinks that this hippie-looking little pansy appears to need a job. No, I confess, but how is work here? "Not good," he mutters and quickly walks away. I overhear a group of women speaking Sinhalese, and I ask them where they are from. Colombo. They ask me what I am doing here. I tell them that I heard about this place and wanted to find out how life was here. They say "fine" and then "ok, bye bye."

I decide not to enter the buildings labeled "Dormitory K" and "Dormitory J". That seems too personal, too soon. I walk past another restaurant, where a group of men are standing around a delicious smelling pot of curry and dipping in and laughing. I wanted to eat, but felt that maybe I should let them relax and enjoy without having a nosy trouble-maker poking around with Lemon Puffs in his hand.

Well, I'll leave you all with a link to this video by the National Labor Committee, called "The Hidden Face of Globalization".

Zionists Tour Sheikh Jarrah

2010-02-19T22:06:00.000-08:00

Last week in Sheikh Jarrah, a group of Zionists visited the area to show solidarity with racist Occupation and Israel's policy of ethnic cleansing. Your blood pressure will increase considerably while watching the video, so afterwards, go smoke a joint or play in the sun.

I haven't been writing much because recently I have been doing a lot of the tourist bit, as well as putting together a proposal for a fellowship. Lots of thoughts out there about Palestine, just not getting them written down. Thus the reliance on other people's videos and articles. Sorry.

Video from An-Nabi Salih

2010-02-12T14:23:00.000-08:00

From http://palsolidarity.org:

Collective Wall-Building Effort Baffles IOF in An-Nabi Salih

"Israeli army and border police used tear gas, stun grenades, rubber- and plastic-coated bullets, live ammunition and “stinky water” to disperse close to 150 Palestinians who tried to reach their village well in An-Nabi Salih. The villagers were accompanied by over 20 Israeli and international solidarity activists.

Following mid-day prayers, protesters marched towards the well and their agricultural lands but were immediately confronted with tear-gas and rubber-coated bullets. A group of 50 settlers from the neighboring settlement of Halamish watched as the Israeli Occupation Forces attacked the Palestinians. In total, 14 protesters were injured, including one hit in the face with a tear gas canister.

The march began in its usual fashion. Villagers, Israelis and internationals descended the hillside to attempt to plant olive trees in the settler-occupied land. As the contingent came within 50 meters of the road that splits An Nabi-Salih, IOF soldiers launched 15-20 tear gas grenades in rapid succession. The group went up the hill to regroup and there was an hour-long lull in the demonstration.

During this respite, a smaller group of Palestinians, Israelis and internationals began tending to the fields near the road dividing the settlement and the village. In unison, they moved large boulders and rocks to build a series of three retaining walls that will further the growth of the crops in An-Nabi Salih. Differences that seemingly divide some were forgotten in that respite from the tear gas. Words such as “ownership” and “territory” were not a part of the repertoire.

The group’s project moved them closer to the road and the 6 soldiers guarding it. As the laborers approached, the soldiers appeared flabbergasted as they didn’t know how to handle such a situation. Those soldiers knew only force and how to implement it to repress, but this show of solidarity was something quite different then anything there training had taught them. Confused looks were all they could muster.

The irony of building walls collectively wasn’t lost to the group, when barriers physical and social that keep two cultures far from one another pervade their daily lives. These walls were different. They didn’t divide, they were not impassable. These walls unified. They paved the way for An-Nabi Salih future crops. Crops that would come to fruition, in some degree, being nurtured through the solidarity between two cultures. It may be awhile, but perhaps they’ll be able to sit at a table, lacking the presence of soldiers, tear gas and conflict, and enjoy the fruits of the labor.

Wall construction ended when shots were heard from the southern edge of the village. ISM activists battled clouds of tear gas with hands visibly extended in order to reach an An-Nabi Salih home, containing women and children, which had been surrounded by IOF forces. Soldiers thankfully descended the hill after several tense moments.

Barricades were set up on the main road leading to An-Nabi Salih, using rocks and burning tires. At around 2pm, a group of soldiers entered the village from the southwest side and fired rubber-coated bullets and tear gas at protesters, endangering villagers trapped inside their homes. “Stinky water” was used twice on protesters.

At around 5pm, a group of approximately 8 soldiers occupied the roof of a villager’s house, firing plastic-coated bullets and tear gas at protesters below. The villager reported that when soldiers entered his home, they pointed their guns at him and told him not to move or they would kill him. Four adults and six children were trapped in the house until the soldiers left, but not before damaging the family’s internet receiver, located on the roof.

Thirty minutes later, the soldiers entered the same home again, cutting the back-yard fence in order to pass through. An ISM activist present at the house was told not to film the soldiers’ actions. When the activist continued taking pictures from the entrance of the home, one soldier threw a stun grenade that exploded less than 3 meters from the activist and a young child.

The protest ended around 6pm, when soldiers began to use live ammunition.

The weekly Friday demonstrations in An-Nabi Salih commenced in December 2009, in protest to the uprooting of hundreds of olive trees by settlers from Halamish settlement. Construction of Halamish settlement began on farmland belonging to An-Nabi Salih and neighbouring villages in 1977. Conflict between the settlement and villagers reawakened in the past month due to the settler’s attempt to re-annex An Nabi Salih land despite the December 2009 Israeli court case that ruled the property rights of the land to the An Nabi Salih residents. Despite the Israeli District Co-ordination Office’s promise to allow the village unrestricted passage to the land, farmers have been barred and violently assaulted when they attempted to access the land in question. An Nabi Salih’s resistance mirrors the ongoing resistance in Bi’lin, Ni’lin and the burgeoning popular struggle in Sheikh Jarrah, Iraq Burin, Burin and Al-Ma’asara."

In Defense of Rock Throwing

2010-02-07T06:45:00.001-08:00

In the latest phase of Palestinian resistance to occupation on their indigenous lands, the "Popular Committees" are getting complete (and often derogatory) coverage by the Israeli and foreign media. While the basic demands that Palestinians are fighting for - access to their land, an end to the construction of the Apartheid Wall, an end to settlement growth, etc. - are often overlooked, there has been much talk about the "violence" of Palestinian resistance. It has become almost the norm in the media that the Israeli army uses toxic gases, sound grenades, rubber bullets and plastic-coated steel bullets (note the distinction: the steel bullets actually have a 1/8" plastic coating, which delivers a extremely painful punch) against Palestinian demonstrators. Even when live bullets are shot (which is not rare), the Israeli and foreign media protest little.

But there is usually always a distinction in the press between "peaceful" Palestinians and "violent" ones, usually the youth. They are "violent" because they throw rocks at soldiers. This division is usually echoed by "peace-loving" foreigners, who many a time I have heard question why Palestinians resort to throwing rocks. It seems strange to some that a people who have had their lands stolen and are continually harassed, arrested, beaten and killed, would resort to throwing rocks against a vastly superior oppressive force, armed with the latest weaponry.

Sometimes you can hear foreigners saying, "Oh, you should check out Bil'in. It's much more peaceful. Nilin is crazy. They are hard-core: they fight the army." There becomes a neo-colonialist, paternalizing attitude to judge which resistance is more "legitimate".

But many Palestinians are starting to reject the idea that resistance means being humiliated, slapped around and arrested, while the world watches to see if the Occupation will eventually disappear on its own. In An-Nabi Salih, a village of 400 people northwest of Ramallah, I was talking with a member of the town's Popular Committee, formed a little over a month ago to coordinate weekly demonstrations against the theft of the town's water spring by the adjacent settlement of Halamish. He correctly pointed out that despite the "peaceful" resistance of Bil'in, many of their leaders are in jail and the army has begun night raids of the village.

"We invite internationals to come and support us. It's important to see what is happening and tell the world. But we don't want internationals to come and tell us how to run our demonstrations. It's our land that was stolen, why can't we resist?" He explains to me over breakfast before the Friday demonstration that with the repression against the Popular Committees and peaceful protests increasing, Palestinians may find inevitable a return to armed struggle, a situation he feels would not be productive.

In the first demonstration that the villagers of An-Nabi Salih coordinated, olive trees were taken as symbols of peace and a return to their stolen land. Despite their peaceful first intent, the army would not allow them to demonstrate and used heavy force to break up the march. Subsequent demonstrations saw the army enter the village, beating men and women, and in one case, throwing gas into a house full of children.

This past Friday, the villagers decided not to back down. Even before we had reached 20 meters past the last house in the village, the army had opened up their arsenal against us. However, the villagers set up barricades - made of boulders, burning tires and trash cans - on the roads leading to the village and for over four hours in the cold and rain, managed to keep the Israeli army out. Some 10 Palestinians were injured with gas and rubber- and plastic-coated bullets.

With the resistance spreading all over the West Bank, Israel continues to crack down on foreign activists who are talking about what's going on. This morning, Israel raided the ISM apartment in Ramallah - in full violation of the Oslo Accords which gave total control of "Area A" areas like Ramallah to the Palestinian Authority - and once again, arrested and are trying to deport two compañeras. Aside from citing expired visas, the Israeli Occupation Authorities claimed that they "were known to be involved in illegal violence". Documenting the "legal" violence of the Israeli army is a crime. I encourage more would-be criminals to come out to Palestine and break the law. International and Israeli presence at these marches is crucial to prevent a complete assault against the Palestinians.

Many people think that resisting occupation means that Palestinians hate Israelies, or Muslims hate Jews. While that idea might represent a small minority of people, the overwhelming majority of people simply want freedom, and they have a right to resist oppression. When Britain occupied the United States, we used more than just stones to resist. Lots of people died, and yet now there is peace (and Tony Blair lives in the American Colony Hotel). Germany occupied France at one time, now they trade sauerkraut and frogs legs. Racism and imperialism continues to oppress the Native Americans, even if they aren't rising up with sticks or guns. So talk a break from debating Palestinian "violence" and throw some rocks.

More information on the Popular Resistance, see www.awalls.org

Settler Attack in Sheikh Jarrah

2010-02-01T13:02:00.000-08:00

The accompanying article about what happened on Sunday can be found here.

Sheikh Jarrah. Shit. Occupation sucks. Check out some photos here.

Brasil: Fueling Aggression, Financing Apartheid

2010-01-20T05:07:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, a rainy day here in Palestine that saw the Al-Ghawi family tent blown over by winds as they continue their months-long protest against their unjust eviction in the East Jerusalem neighborhood of Sheikh Jarrah, marked the one year anniversary of the end of the Israeli war on Gaza. Over 1,400 people were killed, thousands more injured, and the infrastructure left in ruins during the course of Israel's 22-day aggression, nicknamed "Operation Cast Lead".

Of notoriety were Israel's Unmanned Aerial Vehicles (UAVs) - or drones -, such as the Predator and the Heron, which not only carried out reconnaissance missions crucial to Israeli's deadly "targeted strikes", but which were also used for bombing missions in the Strip, resulting in a high number of civilian casualties. Amnesty International claims that many drones dropped bombs containing small, cube-shaped shrapnel that did considerable physical damage on contact; a Syrian film-maker told me this July that he met many Gazans who had limbs amputated from this type of shrapnel, though they were at a considerable distance from the site of bomb impact.

In December, the Israelis signed at $91 million contract with the British RAAF to supply drones in the fight against the Taliban in Afghanistan. Increased drone attacks in Afghanistan and Pakistan have been blamed for hundreds of civilian deaths over the past year. The Heron TP, or Eitan, a newer, beefed-up version of the Heron, which can carry more than a ton of ordnance and which is thought to have been developed for war with Iran, was also "battle-tested" in Operation Cast Lead.
(Brasilian soccer star Ronaldo greets Shimon Peres in Brasil)

Unfortunately, now the Brazilian government has ignored the demands of national and international civil society groups calling for the ban of arms purchases from Israeli defense groups, and instead has signed a deal for $350 million to buy the Heron UAV, the same model used in the Gaza affair, for use by the Brazilian police. In November, Lula met with Israeli President Shimon Peres, accompanied by Israeli Defence officials and Elbit Systems and Israeli Aerospace Industry officials, to discuss the arms purchase. The Brazilian government justified the purchase on the pretext of fighting drug trafficking on its extense borders and gang activity. A few weeks prior to the November visit, Brazilian police claim that a helicopter was shot down over a favela in Rio de Janiero using a "short-range rocket". Poverty, gang wars, and ruthless policing have killed thousands in the Brazilian slums. Brazil will be host to the coming 2014 World Cup and the 2016 Olympic games, security for these events being another pretext for the deal.

When the first three UAVs arrive in Brazil by April 2010, they will be the first to be employed by a police force. The implications are worrisome. Not only will drones – possibly armed with bombs – be patrolling the skies over the Amazon, their presence over the favelas reaffirms the military presence in Brazil’s most marginalized communities, to the detriment of more just and lasting social solutions. Furthermore, the mammoth deal not only legitimizes Israel’s criminal use of these instruments of death in the occupation and repression of Palestinians, Brazil’s money lends key support to Israel’s economy. The Boycott, Divest and Sanctions (BDS) movement, born in Palestine, has been working with civil society groups and governments around the world to stop funding Israeli Apartheid in Palestine, similar to the South African boycott movement of the 1980s. The BDS movement is such a threat to the Israeli economy that dozens of non-violent Palestinian activists have been the targets of threats, harassment and detention. In September, after meeting with Norwegian officials, Stop the Wall Youth Coordinator and BDS activist Mohammad Othman was detained by the Israelis, though no charge was pressed against him. Citing “ethical concern”, the Norwegian government had recently dropped its plans to invest a pension fund in Elbit Systems, maker of Israeli drones and security cameras for the Apartheid wall. Othman was released on January 13th.

Becoming a world leader requires not just military and economic strength. By militarizing the slums of Rio and supporting the occupation of Palestine, Brazil is losing the moral high ground. Grassroots organizing is key to ending the Israeli occupation and building true solidarity between the peoples of the Global South.

Bill and George (and the world's) Excellent (Haitian) Adventure

2010-01-17T01:38:00.000-08:00

At the Ramallah house party Friday night, I was drunk out of my mind when I started getting nauseous. But I assure you it wasn't because I had been wine-tasting and goat cheese-eating all day, followed by a bout of binge-drinking whisky-sours and nursing (another few) bottles of merlot. It was a classic case of politically-motivated nausea. In my case, this sickness sometimes manifests itself as diarrhea, but now I just wanted to blow chunks.

As it happens, a participant in the Friday night revelries was a worker with a generic international NGO that works here in Palestine, helping to "formalize business relations between Israeli and Palestinian companies" (read: "normalization of occupation") and "promote investment by multinationals into Palestine" (read: "exploit that cheap labor pool created by 27% unemployment in the West Bank, and more than 60% in Gaza"). I almost bit a chunk out of my glass listening to her. Trying my best to listen to her, I changed the subject to the "horrfying" (I believe those were my words, with added drama) earthquake in Haiti.

"Oh yes," came the chipper reply,"now we're hoping to open offices there as soon as possible."

And so it begins (or continues). The restructuring of and profiteering from Haiti. As I continued binging, somewhere in Washington, DC, two dudes were hammering out their high school thesis on Haiti's history and restructuring. Published on January 16th in the New York Times, Bill Clinton and George Bush's op-ed spelled out the vision for a new Haiti, in quite open terms.

"It’s a long road to full recovery, but we will not leave the Haitian people to walk it alone. When the rebuilding begins, we will need even more support to make Haiti stronger than ever before: new, better schools; sturdier, more secure buildings that can withstand future natural disasters; solutions that address the inequalities in health care and education; new, diverse industries that create jobs and foster opportunities for greater trade; and development of clean energy.

There are great reasons to hope. For the first time in our lifetimes, Haiti’s government is committed to building a modern economy..."

We won't let Haitians walk alone. Of course not. Unfortunately for the bleeding-heart liberals and neo-con revisionists, Haiti has been trying desperately to walk alone since the Spanish conquista. From the rebellion of the indigenous Taino under Anacoana, to the swords of L'Ouverture and Dessalines, to the image of a crucified Charlemagne Peralt who resisted the U.S. 1915 invasion, to democratically-elected Aristide, Haiti has been trying to be independent. Following the second Aristide coup, the UN had to send in a hugely unpopular and highly expensive pacification force so that black Haiti wouldn't "walk alone."

According to Peter Hallward of the Guardian, "since the late 1970s, relentless neoliberal assault on Haiti's agrarian economy has forced tens of thousands of small farmers into overcrowded urban slums," creating what my nausea-inducing fellow party-goer may deem a cheap labor pool for multinationals. (By the way, Dagan, that Hawaiian Red Dirt shirt you gave me in New York and was subsequently stolen in Egypt - along with my glasses! - was made in Haiti. But thanks anyways. I know, I'm an ungrateful bastard.) Many build their precarious homes on tree-less slopes, tree-less partially due to a crushing UN oil embargo that caused fuel shortages in the 1990s, forcing people to cut down the forest. Haiti rivals the Bahamas for the Western Hemisphere's highest AIDS index.

Bill and George even say that, India aside, Haiti has the most NGOs per capita working on its soil. How is it that so many NGOs haven't been able to stop three-quarters of Haiti's population, prior to the earthquake, from surviving off less that $2 a day? Why has billions in foreign aid been poured into Haiti and yet not much has changed?

Below the mundane and tiresome "humanitarian" goals lie the more nefarious stuff. Naomi Klein reported on a article from the Heritage Foundation, entitled "Things to Remember While Helping Haiti." Some things we have to remember, they say, are:

"While on the ground in Haiti, the U.S. military can also interrupt the nightly flights of cocaine to Haiti and the Dominican Republic from the Venezuelan coast and counter the ongoing efforts of Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez to destabilize the island of Hispaniola. This U.S. military presence, which should also include a large contingent of U.S. Coast Guard assets, can also prevent any large-scale movement by Haitians to take to the sea in dangerous and rickety watercraft to try to enter the U.S. illegally... Congress should immediately begin work on a package of assistance, trade, and reconstruction efforts needed to put Haiti on its feet and open the way for deep and lasting democratic reforms...The U.S. should implement a strong and vigorous public diplomacy effort to counter the negative propaganda certain to emanate from the Castro-Chavez camp. Such an effort will also demonstrate that the U.S.’s involvement in the Caribbean remains a powerful force for good in the Americas and around the globe."

The Heritage Foundation posted that on January 13th, as Cuban medics were already on the ground and before Haitians scarcely knew what had hit them. Klein mentions that we shouldn't look at articles like this as "conspiracy theory", because it has happened in the past, and she documents it pretty well in "The Shock Doctrine". We'll help the Haitians walk, alright; emaciated and on crutches, but they'll walk. As long as they stop rebelling against racism and imperialism and for independence, we'll continue to provide aid, and we'll make a nice profit in the meanwhile.

I say, yes, let's help Haiti. But it's more than just pouring in money and feeling good about ourselves. We have to fight imperialism and the free-market system that touts 'democracy' without economic justice, that divides us into rich and poor, black and white. Long after the immediate effects of the January 12th earthquake wear off, it seems as though Haiti will be caught up in a much bigger, and potentially more deadly, political and economic earthquake, unless we stand up in solidarity for Haiti's popular struggles for self-determination.

(Ah, enough ranting. I'm going back to play Grand Theft Auto IV, my window into the real world.)

Update: Natasha sent a great video. Thanks!

"La repressión israelí se intensifica"

2010-01-11T04:25:00.000-08:00

For all you beautiful Spanish speakers:

"La historia muestra que los movimientos palestinos siempre han intentado la vía pacífica antes que la militar, pero ésta siempre ha sido diezmado por Israel en la ocupación de Palestina."

Artículo en Kaosenlared.net: http://www.kaosenlared.net/noticia/represion-israeli-contra-movimiento-palestino-intensifica

Israeli Army Enters Ramallah to Arrest International Activist

2010-01-10T22:42:00.000-08:00

Once again, the impunity of Israel. As has been mentioned before, the wave of repression against Palestinian activists has increased in the past few months. There was Mohammad Othman, Abdallah Abu Rahma and Jamal Juma, three high profile arrests of Palestinian non violent activists starting in September. There was the killing of the three men in Nablus's city center. The weekly demonstrations against the wall met with repression (yet, in spite of this same repression, more and more villages are forming Popular Committees Against the Wall).

And to top it off, international activists who are supporting these movements are being targeted. On December 18th, the Israeli Occupation Forces arrested Ryan Olander, a Minnesota resident who had been supporting displaced Palestinians who had been evicted from their homes in Sheikh Jarrah. Olander has been in prison ever since.

Last night at 3am, the Israeli army entered Ramallah, the principal city in the West Bank, drove with armored tanks into the main square, and arrested the International Solidarity Movement's Media Coordinator, Eva Nováková. Below is a copy of the report sent out this morning:

"Just before 3am the Israeli Army invaded Ramallah. They moved towards the area near Al Mannara. Outside the home of ISM Media Coordinator Eva Nováková, the army occupied rooftops, with several armored personnel carriers in the street. After beating on the door of her apartment, soldiers woke her neighbours, then broke down her door. Ten soldiers entered the flat, demanding identification from Eva and her housemates and questioning all of those present. All those inside the house were questioned about their names and activities. Soldiers also searched the apartment, claiming they were looking for weapons. According to witnesses when Eva was identified the immigration police arrived to take her away. Eva was only allowed to change her clothes in the presence of a soldier. She was then taken from her apartment. Her current whereabouts are unknown. The raid lasted around ten minutes.A local person said 'You think you are safe in your own house, but they come in the night and bring terror into your home'."

The issue of course, is that if Israel is arresting the observers, what does that mean for the Palestinian movement which they are principally trying to undermine? What will come next for a Palestinian non-violence movement struggling to survive in the face of so much repression? (Bono wrote in a NYTimes opinion piece that he is hoping for a 'Palestinian Gandhi' in the new decade.)

Please pass the word on. Come on out and support the Palestinian struggle!

UPDATE (30 minutes later): Eva was just informed that she will be deported today.

Enduring the Freeze in Sheikh Jarrah

2010-01-09T00:41:00.000-08:00

Actually, despite the title of this entry, Palestine has had a pretty warm winter. Israel's Haaretz newspaper reported that while liberal Europeans were suffering through the heavy winter (serves you right!), young couples were basking in the sun on Tel Aviv's Mediterranean beaches. I'd like to say I'm working on my tan, but I'm slacking.

However, if my stuffy nose and watery eyes are proof, nights can be chilly. Especially if you're a Palestinian living in Sheikh Jarrah, in East Jerusalem. A small neighborhood north of the Old City, on the Ramallah-Jerusalem route taken by bus #18, Sheikh Jarrah is ground zero for Israeli expanisionist plans and ethnic cleansing of Palestinians. A small group of international solidarity activists huddle around the fire outside the makeshift tent of the Al-Ghawi family, set up and destroyed (five times) since August 2, 2009.

That day, 53 Palestinians from two families (the Al-Ghawi and Hanoun families) were violently evicted from their houses by Torah-wielded and rock-throwing settlers, a number of them of French and American dsecent. Some looked like your regular old stoned out hippies sporting NorthFace backpacks. (Occupation isn't carried out by hulking monsters with big fangs; it's the apparent normality of it that scares you.) Since then, a number of young couples pushing Prospect Park-style super baby carriages have occupied the home, celebrating Hannukah with a giant Menorah on the rooftop, smugly overlooking the Al-Ghawi family across the street, sipping a coffee or tending to their baby. The settlers are watched 24 hours-a-day by private guards and police, while solidarity activists hold their own 24-hour vigil against settler attacks.

Nearby, from outside the Al-Kurd family home, occupied in December of 2009, you can peer through the window and (creepily, I admit) watch the (even creepier) young settlers bed down for the night on mattresses amidst strewn clothes and furniture. It more resembles a college dorm. And that's the salt on the wound: these settlers aren't 'settling' in just yet; they are keeping the Al-Kurd family out until this month's hearing in a Jerusalem court. Meanwhile, Mr. Al-Kurd receives guests in his tent, located inside the compound, and we watch, nonplussed, as the settlers side-step the tent and into the house. It's in your face.

The Sheikh Jarrah neighborhood was given to 28 families in 1956, following an agreement between the UN and the Jordanian government, then in control of Jerusalem and the West Bank. The families had been refugees of the earlier 1948 expulsion of Arabs from Palestine. However, after the 1967 occupation of East Jerusalem and the West Bank, the Sephardic Community Committee and the Knesseth Yisrael Association presented claims that the land was historically Jewish and thus, sought the eviction of the Palestinian families. A secret agreement between the two parties' lawyers allowed for legal recognition of Jewish ownership of the land, and Palestinians as protected tenants, which has used to evict families considered mere "tenants". Other Ottoman-era documents disprove original Jewish ownership.

Historical documents aside, there is open suspicion that settlers want this land in order to form a continuum of Jewish ownership over East Jerusalem, stretching from the Old City to Hebrew University and onto the West Bank settlements, which would effectively cut off the Old City to Northern Jerusalem Palestinian neighborhoods. Evictions, coupled with house demolitions and restriction on building permits for Palestinians, are the tool to complete this plan. Immediately southeast of Sheikh Jarrah, in Wadi Hoz and Silwan and neighboring communities, Palestinians are being silently pushed out.

Though Jerusalem's Palestinians (ironically considered "citizens" of Israel, compared to their West Bank counterparts) comprise of close to 35% of the city's population, only 5-10% of the municipal budget is spent in their areas, according to a confidential EU report published last year.

While settler violence in Sheikh Jarrah - including stonings, knifings, spray painting and harassment - continues unstopped, many Palestinians and activist have been detained. Every Friday, Israeli activists supporting the evicted families try to march to Sheikh Jarrah but are stopped, gassed and cuffed. One international activist, Ryan Olander, from Minnesota, has been in jail for 3 weeks, pending deportation.

Last night, the settlers had friends over for what I imagined to be a delicious Shabbat dinner. It was hard to stomach seeing the happy smiles and warm hugs exchanged at the doorstep, especially as the al-Ghawi family watched this tragicomedy unfold from the street outside their own home. Mr. al-Ghawi's was shaking with rage as he hassled them in Hebrew. Some settlers looked away, while others yelled back and hustled their sleeping babies upstairs.

Just a few days ago, Defense Minister (the title 'Minister' sounds so esteemed; can we use 'Thug'?) Barak declared that building permits for the West Bank settlements will be allowed to be issued, reneging on the administration's proposed 10-month 'freeze', already 6 weeks into effect. This would allow constructions on homes to be built the day the 'freeze' ends. It's all a joke. The West Bank settlements continue to expand and East Jerusalem is slipping away. All the while, Middle East 'envoys' and 'negotiators' express 'dismay' or 'regret' that Israel is continuing its expansionist plan. Tony Blair, a frequent guest at the American Colony Hotel (fitting for Blair, I believe), has only to walk 200 meters from the hotel to see what is really happening every day (and night) in Sheikh Jarrah, but the clown is obviously too busy pulling in the cash from his lecture series.

Meanwhile, for what it's worth, we'll continue to come out, endure the 'freeze' and bear witness to Israel's ethnic cleansing of Jerusalem. You can support by writing a letter to your representatives asking them to demand Israel remove the illegal settlers from the Sheikh Jarrah families' homes. For more information, you can see the International Solidarity Movement's website: www.palsolidarity.org
.

Free Jamal Juma' and the Anti-Wall Prisoners

2009-12-30T11:53:00.000-08:00

Hey guys,

Now that you have all gained 20 kilos eating all those Christmas chocolates (I'll exclude Nùria because she's actually pregnant - and going to give birth on January 2nd!!), what better way to burn it all off by doing a little activism?!

As you know, I've been helping out with Stop the Wall Campaign here, and two weeks ago, the Coordinator, Jamal Juma' was arrested. It reminds me a lot of Colombia: peaceful activism and advocacy met with jail time or assassination.

I won't bore you with all the details here; you can go to freejamaljuma.wordpress.com for more info. But all you have to do is take a picture saying "Free the Anti-Wall Prisoners" from wherever you are, and send in a picture! We are going to use your pictures in our days of action for the prisoners.

So start snapping away and send them to me or to global@stopthewall.org. I'll leave you all with a pretty cool video for the Free Jamal Juma' and the Anti-Wall prisoners campaign.

Nablus' Newest Martyrs

2009-12-26T09:06:00.001-08:00

You can spend a whole day just getting lost in the winding streets of Nablus' old city. Trays of kunafa, the orange-colored doughy, goat-cheesy, honey-liscious sweet for which Nablus is famous, greet you at every corner. If you venture a little further down stairwells and small tunnels, you may find an old soap factory or two where they still make olive oil soap by hand. Somewhere in the middle of the old city, there is a small palace, the now-abandoned home of some aristocratic family, bitter mandarin trees populating its open courtyard.

And you can't miss the posters. Nablus may not have seen fighting like in Jenin during the Second Intifada, but some locals say that Nablus has historically given the lion share of Palestinian martyrs. And they have the posters to prove it. Every wall of the city is plastered and re-plastered with pictures of 'martyrs', usually with a Koranic inscription enshrouding their head, and a photo of the leaders of the respective groups. As I talked to some gangly youth hanging out in the Ras el-Ain neighborhood, one of them pointed to a poster on the wall and indicated that the grim-faced Al-Aqsa Brigades fighter had been his brother. I look closely at the poster. Below the picture of the youth carrying a gun half his size are smaller pictures of him after his death. A kuffiyeh covers the hole where his brains were apparently blown out. Another picture shows him without the kuffiyeh.

The posters, the memorials. There are plenty. And today, new ones will be put up. In the early morning, IDF forces stormed the old city and the Ras el-Ain neighborhood and assassinated three members of the Al-Aqsa brigade. When I first arrived in the city, the streets were emptying after a 20,000-strong march to the cemetery to bury the three new 'martrys'. (Muslim traditions require a swift burial after death). They had already shoveled over the last bit of dirt when I arrived at the graves. Ghassan Abu Sharkh was buried next to his brother, Naif, also an Al-Aqsa member killed in 2004. People are still at the gravesite, praying. From the hillsides overlooking Nablus, I'm sure the soldiers who killed these men, alleged to be the masterminds of the recent murder of a West Bank settler, are pondering Al-Aqsa's threat of responding in the "language of blood and fire." Mustafa Barghouti, the runner-up for PA presidency in 2005, gives an interview nearby saying that Israel only understands "the language of force."

Language, language. Everyone's thinking about with what language to respond. Political futures may once again be on the line. I head up to the Ras el-Ain home of Anan Sabah, one of the men targeted in the morning raid. My taxi driver, aware that I am American, feels a little uncomfortable leaving me among all the suspicious eyes, but I tell him not to worry. I introduce myself and after some time, suspicions lead to desires to tell me what happened. I'm introduced to Anan's brother, still red-eyed and in shock. I notice an extreme amount of equally shocked children wandering about.

He tells me how the soldiers first fired from the street into the windows before ordering everyone out. The walls are full of bullet holes. The windows shot out. Every room has been trashed. Used tear gas and sound grenade shells are laying around. Anan was recently let out of jail, he tells me; in exchange for writing off violence, he would not be targeted by Israeli forces. When the soldiers came, everyone was ordered out of the house except for Anan. Close to 90 people, Anan, his 5 siblings and their children, lived in this building. When they were allowed back in, they found his body riddled with bullets.

Anan's children, nine of them if my surprised ears heard right, are scattered around the house or at the local mosque. One 3-year-old, sleeping on a mat, springs out of his sleep when Anan's brother wakes him. He looks jumpy. "He hasn't stopped using the bathroom since this morning. Because of the fear," I'm told.

Israel is claiming a 'victory against terror' now. As I walk back down through the old city, a mob is rushing a young boy carrying handfuls of posters. The Al-Aqsa Martyrs Brigades have already printed out huge color posters of their three newest martyrs. Everyone is mobbing the young delivery boy, who yells that he can't give posters to everyone. Chaos. Somehow, it seems that despite all the language, no one can really claim victory in this latest round of bloodshed.

What Would Berlusconi Do?

2009-12-25T03:10:00.000-08:00

Hosni Mubarak should take a cue from Silvio Berlusconi when dealing with the 1000+ international activists hanging out at the Jordanian-Egyptian border.

When the little Italian Alpine village of L'Aquila was slammed with an earthquake earlier this year, everyone's favorite Botox King was quick to offer reassurance. Prime Minister Berlusconi, probably fresh from another naked-models party, said that earthquake survivors who were spending their nights in tents should view themselves as being on a "camping weekend." Poor Silvio, he got a lot of shit for that one.

Now, international activists around the world, my dad included, are participating in the 3rd Humanitarian Mission to break the siege on Gaza. Named Viva Palestina, the convoy is sending much needed medicines, food, building materials, ambulances and other items to the Gazans, trapped on two sides by the Israeli Apartheid Wall, on another side by the Israeli Navy (which only allows Palestinian fishermen to catch their harvest a mere 3 nautical miles from the shore), and now on the fourth side by Egypt's new Apartheid Wall.

The convoy started off in England, getting great reception from people in every country. Apparently, in Syria, the group was put up free of cost by the government at the Sahara Tourist Complex in Damascus. (The only time I ever went there was when I attended the 'Extraordinary' Meeting of International Communist Parties, and I wasn't given anything to eat and my bike was stolen.) Now, the Jordanian government has given a typically cold reception, while my dad reports that Hamas and the Muslim Brotherhood are very enthusiastically receiving the convoy (of course).

But as the Pharoah of Egypt, Mubarak is now putting the brakes on the convoy. He's in a pickle. Should he bend to popular will and allow the convoy through to Gaza, thus making him look slightly more legitimate? Or should he do the Israeli bidding and block the caravan, thus allowing for more money to come into Egypt to siphon off to fund his own Botox operations?

He'll take the Botox. The Egyptians are currently refusing entry to the convoy, thus stranding my dad and his convoy-mates in the port city of Aqaba. Mubarak should tell them that they should see it as a camping trip, that might make it more fun. My dad said he hasn't changed his underwear in three days; I'm not sure if that is in protest for not getting in, or because there aren't adequate facilities. In any case, the convoy, along with their buses and ambulances, food and medicine, are being made to camp out on the border.

If you feel moved by the story of my dad's gross underwear, do them all a favor. Call the Eygptian embassy and tell them "No more money for Apartheid walls and Hosni's Botox!". Or stand outside the embassy with a similar sign. Or even better, take a cue from Italy's mentally deranged, and if you see Mubarak, take a metal statue to his face like what happened to poor Silvio.

You can follow the convoy at: http://readingpsc.org.uk/convoy/

Stop the Wall Campaign

2009-12-21T06:50:00.000-08:00

Here in Ramallah, close to the infamous Qalandia checkpoint and just overlooking the Palestinian Red Crescent building, is the offices of the Stop the Wall Campaign. It's a small office, populated with twiggy, chain-smoking, coffee-guzzling Palestinian revolutionaries, activists, intellectuals and their international allies. A huge poster of Che - Hasta la Victoria Siempre, it says - hangs above books and pamphlets on the Occupation. An out-dated UN poster from 2007 of the Israeli settlements in the West Bank on one door, Mahmoud Darwish's angry poetry on another. Boycott the Occupation posters lay scattered on the floor.

Burn-out central. Sigh. Sounds like my kind of place...

I'll be volunteering with the Stop the Wall campaign (www.stopthewall.org), a grassroots, decidedly not NGO which helps to coordinate local action and international solidarity with Palestinian activists. Last week, at midnight on December 16th, the Campaign Coordinator, Jamal Juma' was arrested by occupation authorities, and today we found out that he will be charged with 'incitement'. Incitement to exactly what, no one knows. According to Israeli military regulations, a Palestinian detainee can be held in custody for up to 12 days without knowing the reason for his/her arrest, and without seeing a judge. Afterwards, they can be charged, released, or giving administrative detention. Administrative detention is where the Israelis basically say that they have no proof of illegal activities, but they have a 'secret file' and thus are forced to hold you. No one can see that 'secret file', so know one knows why you are in. Administrative detention orders can be infinitely renewed. The Stop the Wall Youth Coordinator, Mohammad Othman, was arrested a few months ago, and after finding no reason for which to charge him, Israel put him under administrative detention.

I'll be putting together the website for Jamal Juma' - freejamaljuma.wordpress.com. It's really ugly, so if anyone has suggestions, please let me know. I'm basing it off Mohammad Othman's website (freemohammadothman.wordpress.com, duh!). Aside from web-building and translation, I will be helping with the Campaign's work on researching Israeli arms trade with Latin America, so if anyone has any articles or interesting information, please let me know. Currently, I'm looking into a agricultural trade agreement into which Israel and El Salvador entered. The idea is to inform grassroots organizations and Latin American civil society about Israel's attempt to prop up its sagging occupational economy. You can find a great article about Latin America and Israel written by Jamal on the Wordpress blog - http://freejamaljuma.wordpress.com/about/

You can also learn more about the Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions movement which is building steam across the globe - www.bdsmovement.net

Thanks!

An Old Movie

2009-12-15T02:45:00.001-08:00

artículo en español: http://www.kaosenlared.net/noticia/israel-palestina-pelicula-vieja

Let’s see, I think I have seen this movie before. Israel calls a 10-month partial ban on settlement construction in the West Bank (not including 3,000 buildings already approved, public buildings, or construction in East Jerusalem[1]), the settlers cry foul and images of screaming settlers carried away by police are flashed through the news. Oh, the pain! Obama, can’t you see the pain you are inflicting on Netanyahu and the Israeli people by telling them that they don’t have a legal right – much less a biblical right – to build in the West Bank?

Of course, everyone foresaw it coming. No one needed the settlers to explicitly say that for every outpost or settlement building dismantled or evicted, the Palestinians would be the ones who would suffer. Will Israel ‘vow to uphold the law’ against the ‘extremists’ who attack ‘innocent’ Palestinians? “Without a doubt,” says my 8-ball. Because of course, Israel is better than that. Israel wants peace. It is even taking ‘far-reaching and painful steps’ for peace. Indeed, even the government’s ‘unilateral freeze’ shows “who is for peace and who is against it.” (Let’s consult the 8-ball again: Are the Palestinians the ones against peace? “It is decidedly so”.)

We can be sure that following the mosque arson in the West Bank village of Yasuf, by ‘extremist elements’ within the settler ‘movement’ - I have conflict with that term, because it implies a separation, a distinguishing from Israeli government policy, which actively subsidizes and coddles [2] their ‘brothers’ in the West Bank -, the Israeli government will wash its hands of responsibility and say that it is doing everything possible for peace, and that some people (a ‘small percentage’ of settlers and don’t forget, 100% of Palestinians) don’t want peace. All the Livnis, the Baraks, the Netanyahus, and the Leibermans are the doves, can’t we see that?

Speaking of Livni, she became almost philosophical regarding the attacks on the mosque. “We must turn to introspection and contend with what is happening within Israeli society.” [3] Can someone tell me what the hell that means? I don’t recall her introspecting when white phosphorous was melting the skin of Gazans and she was rejecting a cease-fire. Maybe Israel only introspects when gun-toting Brooklynites with chutzpah and Torah-wielding dudes with curly locks are carrying out attacks.

The settlers – for economic or ideological reasons, 500,000 are living in the West Bank, furthering the dream of ‘Greater Israel’ – are a very vocal group within Israel, and opinions differ on whether they enjoy support from ‘mainland’ Israel. At a recent settler rally in Paris Square in West Jerusalem (which at first sight looked more like a Jonas Brothers concert, what with all the braces and 14-year old girls screaming their heads off), of the two dozen or so people I spoke with, at least 80% were from the U.S., and of these, almost all of them were from ‘Little Israel’ (you know, New York and New Jersey). And all of them had something to say to the Obama administration.

“Let Obama keep his change and let us keep building!” “Bibi [Netanyahu], don’t give in to American pressure!” One American teenager, holding a yellow flag with the portrait of Rabbi Meir Kahane on it, came up to me and eagerly said he wanted to tell me something. Go for it. “Tell Obama that if it doesn’t work out in the White House, maybe it will work out in the N.B.A.” Do you have anything else to say to Obama? “Um, yeah. He should go back to Iran and mind his own country.” (Rabbi Meir Kahane, the assassinated ideologue of the ‘fringe elements’, once claimed that to defend Israel you need “faith in God and a strong army.”) In the background, I heard a Yesha Council leader sound out clearly the name of the enemy, to cheers from the crowd: “Barack HUSSEEEEEEEEIN Obama”. Two 18-year olds from Brooklyn told me that ‘any empire that doesn’t align itself with the Jews’ will fall. G-d gave them the land, and now f---ing Obama wants to take it away?

We tried to visit the village on Ni’lin for their Friday demonstrations against the wall. The previous week, the army had used live ammunition against stone throwers and the night before, in the adjacent town on Bil’in, had arrested the organizers of the Popular Committee Against the Wall [4]. The army refused us entrance to Ni’lin for ‘safety purposes’. So we entered the bordering settlement of Mod’in Ilit and watched the protest from the other side. Some settlers approached us and gave their point of view of the situation. The wall, they said, has given protection against terror attacks and ‘stealing car radios’. “But,” one British-sounding settler graciously reminds us, “there was nothing on this land before. No one lived here. Just olive trees.” About the protest? Most didn’t pay attention except for one settler whose doctor wife reports that some Fridays, when the wind is pro-Palestinian, tear gas wafts into her clinic from across the valley and leaves her patients crying. About the Palestinians? “Well, the problem is that they don’t know how to manage their own people.” As we spoke, across the valley, another Palestinian youth was shot with live bullets.

These people would clearly fall into what Netanyahu would call the ‘not-fringe elements’. They don’t carry around M-16s like the settler at nearby Dolev settlement who was visibly shocked and surprised when we asked for directions to Ramallah. They most likely would condemn mosque attacks, though they might accept a wall to keep out ‘terrorists’, or the fact that another Palestinian family may be evicted from the Sheikh Jarrah neighborhood of Jerusalem this week, or that Palestinians who want to enter Israel for work have to wait hours at checkpoints or are arbitrarily detained, or even ‘targeted strikes’ by Hellfire missiles on Gazan homes. They’re not ‘fringe elements’, they’re the mainstream. Netanyahu’s real brothers. He can afford to label a few scary guys as extremists, as obstacles to peace, while he counts on the passive majority who accept occupation and don’t see that as the real obstacle to peace.

When Palestinians reject this settlement freeze as the farce that it is – as they already have-, the Clintons and the Obamas and the Mitchells will express disappointment that Israel’s ‘gestures’ have not been accepted, the settlers would be vindicated and Israel will ‘be forced’ to reign in the Palestinians. It’s an old movie. Just rewind and replay.

Will the settlement freeze open ‘new doors’ to peace in Palestine and Israel? Eight-ball says: “Outlook not so good.”

________
1. “Israeli PM Netanyahu declares 10-month freeze in new building in West Bank settlements”. http://blog.taragana.com/business/2009/11/25/israeli-pm-netanyahu-declares-10-month-freeze-in-new-building-in-west-bank-settlements-3277/

2. “Land Expropriations and Settlements.” B’Tselem. http://www.btselem.org/english/settlements/migration.asp

3. “Officials Blame ‘Extremist’ Settlers for Arson Attack on West Bank Mosque”, Robert Mackey, December 11th, 2009.
http://thelede.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/12/11/extremist-settlers-blamed-for-arson-attack-on-west-bank-mosque/

4. “Release Bil’in popular leader Abdallah Abu Rahmah”, International Solidarity Movement. http://palsolidarity.org/2009/12/9688

"This is Not Apartheid; This is the Wild West"

2009-12-12T00:58:00.000-08:00

Those words came from a young ex-IDF soldier named Ilan as we sat and gorged ourselves on delicious falafel - mine with extra hot sauce and xatzeel, eggplant - in a corner of Jerusalem's Mahaneh Yehuda market. We had just returned from Hebron, the largest city in the West Bank, home to roughly 180,000 Palestinians. Ilan, an ex-IDF soldier who served in Hebron during the Second Intifada and now leads tours with Breaking the Silence, an Israeli peace group made up of ex-IDF soldiers determined to make known the occupation's dirty work in Palestine, explains himself as he licks his fingers clean.

"Apartheid is where you have a set of laws defining discrimination between people. In Hebron, there is no law. The Israeli army is doing what they want there. They can evict Palestinians and nothing will happen. This is worse than apartheid."

Following the Oslo Accords in 1994 and the subsequent dividing of the West Bank into three araes - full Palestinian control ("Area A", about 15% of total land), full Israeli control ("Area C", 60% of land) or joint Palestinian civil authority / Israeli military authority ("Area B", 25% of land), Hebron received special treatment. The city was divided into H1 and H2, the former being Palestinian control and the latter, Israeli. Some 30,000 Palestinians still resided in H2 at the time of partition alongside roughly 500 settlers. Today, the settlers have increased by 300 - protected by close to 3,500 soldiers and police officers - and close to half of H2's resident Palestinian population has been evicted or scared off. The city center, once a vibrant area, is now inhabited by dogs and Israeli soldiers. Almost 80% of Palestinian businesses in H2 have closed, welded shut, weeds growing from their neglected entrances. Windows, protected against settler rocks by iron gates, don't have old grandmothers peering from them anymore. As they say, it's a 'ghost town'.

"Since most Palestinians have small shops on the first floor of their homes, our strategy would be to come and close the entrances to their shops, sometimes giving a week warning, sometimes a few hours, or sometimes no warning at all," explains Ilan. "Since they couldn't enter their shops, they couldn't enter their homes, and that way, they just left."

Ilan justifies his organization's continued attempts to educate people about what the army is doing in Hebron, despite harassment, jailing and threats. "I served three years in the army and I did things I never thought I could do. I have to make up for it." For refusing to serve as an army reservist, he must serve one month out of the year in prison. (In addition to the mandatory three year army service, Israelis may be called for reserve duty for one month a year until the age of 45.) His ultra-orthodox family has shunned him; ironically, some family members from Miami send thousands of shekels every year to support the settlers in Hebron and the neighboring settlement of Kiryat Arba.

A few Palestinian businessmen who brave attacks and harassment near the Tomb of the Patriarchs/Ibrahimi mosque (a sacred site for both Jews and Muslims, a stone wall divided the structure in two parts, one mosque, one synagogue, following the 1994 massacre of Muslim worshipers by the American-Israeli doctor Baruch Goldstein), tell me that between four workers selling trinkets and pottery, they make 20 shekels a day (U$5.30). Jewish worshipers hurriedly pass by as soldiers, armed to the teeth, watch out not for settler attacks, but rather attacks against settlers. Since the army's mandate is to protect Israeli citizens, Ilan tells me that they would only intervene in attacks if the settlers were being attacked, in order to arrest Palestinians. When little settler youths throw rocks at Palestinians, the most the army can do is to reprimand them and tell them not to do that again.

Recently, in a video circulated by Israel's Channel 2, after a reported knife attack by a Palestinian against settlers in Kiryat Arba in which the attacker was shot by the IDF, a settler is seen taking his car and running over the Palestinian - twice - as police and soldiers look on idly. The tension is high here. One Palestinian I talk to claims that another Intifada is coming.

Who knows if Palestinians could endure another Intifada, but as Hebron makes clear, the status quo seems unbearable. People on both sides offer me pessimistic views of the future. As we returned to Jerusalem, we stop at the tomb of Baruch Goldstein in Kiryat Arba, overlooking the Hebron hills and guarded by an equally nutty looking fellow. The inscription on his tomb speaks volumes: "Here lies the saint... who gave his life for the Jewish people, the Torah and Israel."

---

For pictures, click here.

Chillin' in Bil'in (ok, that was cheesy, but I can't think of anything else)

2009-12-04T21:17:00.000-08:00

When the wind pushed the first big cloud of white gas towards us, I figured I would just wrap my kuffiyeh around my face and press forward. "No big deal, Nico." Ten seconds later, I was crying like a baby who just crapped his diapers and coughing like an old man with one lung. That sucked. For a brief second, I remembered the story of Wendy Avila, the 24-year old Honduran woman who, with her husband, left her job in the United States to return to Honduras after the coup to join the resistance; she died of asthma complications after police gassed a demonstration. The 20-something Israeli soldiers, grinning behind the wire fence, literally had duffle bags filled with these gorilla-fist-sized (actually, maybe gorillas have bigger or smaller hands, I don't really know) bombs, and would throw them at anyone who got too close to the fence, or talked too much, or was a journalist, or was Palestinian, or was American, or was Israeli, or was a medic, or was in a wheelchair, or was an olive tree, or was the wind, the sun… they seemed to be firing at anything. The hand thrown bombs are problematic only inasmuch as the gas that comes from it; the real danger are the gas canisters launched from rifles that can cause considerable injury - or death - if they fall on you. We run past the tomb of "Bassem" Ibrahim, a veteran organizer of the weekly protests in Bil'in, who was killed when an IOF (Israeli Occupation Forces, as they are considered) soldier fired a tear gas canister, hitting him on the head. He lays now just 20 meters in front of the fence.

Internationals by far outweigh Bil'in residents, most of whom seem to be almost indifferent now to the weekly protests, though I was told that most of them are scared for fear of reprisals. The youth are the most energetic, making me feel like an old fogey, and seem almost indifferent to the gas clouds. A young-looking veteran of the First Intifada (the Intifada of the Stone-throwers) is decked out in a sweet automatic wheelchair and speeds away down-hill at impressive speeds everytime gas was launched, leaving the rest of us handicapped by the gas (no pun intended). Actually, at one point he stands up in his wheelchair to yell at the Israelis, which leaves me dumbstruck. Israeli tear gas causes miracles. The Tel Aviv mod squad, looking more like Williamsburg hipsters, arrive looking aptly glum. There is an old Irish man in combat boots and a gas mask, who mutters "fucking bastards" or "come on, motherfuckers" everytime a canister is launched. He stands like a rock at the front line the whole time filming the Israeli attack. (Later, at then end of the protest, someone overheard him saying: "I forgot to press the record button. Fuck." Luck of the Irish.) Some journalists for AP and other mass media watch from the sides, donned in gas masks and helmets, looking more like soldiers. Kuffiyehs and Palestinian flags abound. I wonder if the cheese of my left over pizza tucked away in my bag will absorb the gas.

Bil'in's residents have become famous for their weekly demonstrations since 2005 against the wall that has cut them off from more than 50% of their agricultural lands. Together with other towns, such as neighboring Nilin (where, at the same time I was choking on clouds, a young protestor was shot with "tutu" bullets), they have consistently challenged the Israeli state's right to build a wall through their lands under the pretext of guaranteeing security to Israeli Jewish citizens and, more directly, the more than 40,000 colonists living the illegal settlement of Modi'in Illit. (Last year, the Israeli government upgraded Modi'in Illit's status to "city", which some say would encourage more colonists to move in, thus further reducing Palestinian land.)

Most days, Bil'in residents are allowed to access their lands to tend to their olive trees, but only after passing through a checkpoint and as long as the IOF commander in charge deems it appropriate. The Israeli Supreme Court has ruled that the wall's path is illegal, and ordered a change in the path allowing for a return of at least 50% of confiscated lands. However, according to one organizer, the Israeli government has dragged its feet, claiming "lack of funds" to destroy and rebuild the wall. See www.bilin-village.org for more information.

Of course, however, plenty of gas and sound grenades. After 30 minutes, it's all over. The protest retreats for the week, and the game is over, for now. It's frustrating for me, this non-violence thing. Our heads still foggy with the gas, two Aussie journalists and I ask Abdullah, a Bil'in organizer, why the use of nonviolence as a tactic. He claims that if they can make the Israeli occupation spend money on having to deploy troops and weapons, little by little, they will become a thorn in the Israelis side and force them to give in to their demands. I wonder to myself how much it costs the Israelis to deploy a couple dozen teenagers against 150 protestors. Personally, I think it would cost more if we sent them to the hospital with a rock lodged in their faces... hmm, prudence, Nico. But hey, Gandhi's nonviolence tactics alone didn't send the English packing, nor did King's brotherly love alone win civil rights. But maybe, just now, I can't - and don't want to - really imagine more bloodshed out here.

As we retreat, I go to watch the parallel protest of a handful of Palestinian teenagers throwing rocks at troops. They are strictly forbidden by protest organizers to mix with us "nonviolent folk". In between olive trees, rocks and shouts of "sons-of-bitches" fly and bounce harmlessly of the wall or an ear. Rock, gas, rock, gas. These kids were the same ones who told me earlier that if they catch any Israeli on "their side" of the wall, they'll kill him. I hope they don't see those poor Israeli anarchists walking ahead of us. We walk back to town, about half a kilometer away, and you can still smell the gas. Some cool-looking Palestinian men are perched on a balcony watching the action, ironically puffing on a sheesha, as if there wasn't enough smoke in the air. The Israelis, to make some kind of point which is lost on us, are still shooting gas long after the protesters disperse.

Looking back across the valley, I see the Israeli soldiers crossing the barrier and removing flags and signs. One of them waves the Palestinian flag then tucks it away. I guess we'll be back next week.

P.S. This coming week, the colonists/settlers and their allies will gather in front of "Bibi" Netanyahu's residence to protest the 10-month settlement "freeze" (actually, they will still be building; I guess they call it a "freeze" because of the coming winter). Funny how tables turn. Go back to October 1995, when Netanyahu and the Likud were leading protests against Rabin for "being removed from Jewish tradition". One month later, a settler assassinated Rabin. I'm sure Mr. Yahoo is sweating his kippa off.

Short Film: No Way Through

2009-11-30T21:53:00.001-08:00

Watch a new short film that transposes Israel's movement restrictions on Palestinians in the occupied territories to London.

Border Perspectives

2009-11-26T13:14:00.000-08:00

Just quickly putting into perspective my "troubles" at the King Hussein border crossing, I ran across an article about two African-American activists who were attempting to participate in the Fatah-promoted International Conference on Palestinian Prisoners in Israeli Jails. It gives a good idea about what the Israelis look for in suspected "terrorists". Since the article is short, I'll copy it below:

The NLG NYC Condemns the Israeli Government for the Detention of African American Political Activists

25 November 2009

"The New York City Chapter of the National Lawyers Guild condemns the actions of the Israeli government for its unlawful and racially motivated detention of two African-American political activists.

"On November 23, 2009, Dhoruba Bin Wahad, a former U.S. political prisoner and leader of the Black Panther Party, and Naji Mujahid, a student-activist from Washington D.C., were on a tourist bus en route from Amman, Jordan to the West Bank of occupied Palestine. Both had been invited to attend a conference on political detention in Jericho that was sponsored by the Palestinian Authority. As the bus crossed the King Hussein Bridge that connects Jordan with the Israeli-occupied West Bank, it stopped for a border inspection by Israeli officers. Of the numerous individuals on the bus, only Dhoruba and Naji were ordered to disembark. Significantly, both were the only Black people on the bus. Within a short time, the border officials searched under Dhoruba's name on the Internet. They discovered that he is Muslim, a former Black Panther leader, and someone who spent 19 years in prison for a crime he did not commit. (Dhoruba, a target of COINTELPRO, was arrested in 1971 and sentenced to life in prison. His conviction was overturned in 1990). Both Dhoruba and Naji were interrogated, strip-searched, and their property confiscated and searched. Despite their cooperation and offer to return into Jordan, their detention continued for over 12 hours. They were ultimately released but denied permission to enter occupied Palestine and returned to Jordan.

"The treatment accorded Dhoruba and Naji would be outrageous if it occurred to anyone. And as Naji Mujahid himself stated shortly after returning to Amman, "the humiliation and frustration that we endured was a small taste of what we can be sure the Palestinians go through on a daily basis." But the incident is rendered even more shameful because its genesis appears to have been racial profiling. Dhoruba and Naji were ordered off the bus before Israeli border officials had any idea of their country of origin or personal histories. They only knew that they were Black. Moreover, the incident occurred only days after it was reported that the South African government deported an Israeli official following allegations that a member of Shin Bet, the Israeli secret police, had infiltrated the airport in Johannesburg in an effort to get information on South African citizens, particularly Black and Muslim travelers (Reuters, November 22, 2009).

"The New York City Chapter of the National Lawyers Guild calls upon the United States State Department to lodge a formal protest over the treatment of Dhoruba Bin Wahad and Naji Mujahid. We further call upon the Israeli government to end its racist and unjust detention and interrogation policies."

P.S.: news flash! for all of us who like to wear the Palestinian kuffiyehs in solidarity with our brothers and sisters here, I learned some useful information today. Apparently, the black and white (the one we usually see everywhere) represents Fatah; the red one represents the PFLP; and the green represents Hamas. So be careful which colors you decide to wave...

Kurdish Dancing

2009-11-22T08:32:00.000-08:00

Finally, after many lies and attempted uploads, I have these videos of Kurdish dancers for you all. Recorded in the village of Eruh, in Southeastern Turkey on August 15th, 2009, the 25th anniversary of the PKK uprising.

Entering Occupied Palestine

2009-11-21T23:00:00.000-08:00

They are on your head, in your mouth, nervously hopping on your arms. There are so many of them that when you wave your hand around in the air, you feel them hitting your skin. Dozens of them. Flies. It's as if, when approaching the Jordanian-Israeli border, you are nearing a decaying corpse, or at least something putrid, something rotten. Symbolic.

The Jordanian-owned JETT bus crossed the King Hussein/Allenby Bridge at 9am, one hour after having our passports stamped at the Jordanian border crossing, located just 2 kilometers away. The Israeli-customs center (remember that Israel controls the border crossing, even though it is in Palestinian Authority "controlled" West Bank) resembles more of an airport terminal than the simple border crossings I have gotten used to. A huge sign in Arabic by the Born to Freedom Foundation offers $10,000,000 (yes, that is ten million dollars) for information about Israeli's MIAs. Stern-faced youth in white polo shirts, khaki cargo pants, Ray-Ban sunglasses and watch over the crowd of travelers, armed with impressive-looking M-16s. We meet the first round of friendly customs agents/robots, leave our baggage, and are sent to another room. Nothing serious, just the X-ray machine. A French kid who was on the bus with me and is hoping to get involved in anti-occupation activities as well, is pulled aside by a mean looking agent with a gun strapped to his thigh. I proceed. Maybe it won't be as bad as everyone told me it would.

I was told on numerous occasions about how beautiful the Israeli female customs agents are, and the next customs agent I meet is exactly that. She is so nice to me that I begin to wonder if it was all a joke about the Israelis being nasty. Or maybe it was the new, striped, blue and white (excellent touch, Nico!) collared shirt I was wearing. "Where are you going in Israel?" Everyone had told me - "Don't say Ramallah!" - but I didn't have another story and I didn't want to lie, so I told them "Ramallah, Bethlehem, maybe the Red Sea, of course Tel Aviv... " My question: "Why are there so many flies?" She groans in solidarity. Then:

"Please have a seat."

Damn. The majority of people were being passed through, except for me, the French guy and a few other Palestinians. I fill out a form about my recent country visits (though they already know it, they make you say and write everything twice just to see if your story - or memory - holds up), and wait. Fifteen minutes later, I am taken to another hall (I can see the exit!) and told to wait. Sometime later, one of the secret service goons rolls up and asks to sit next to me. I would rather punch her in her metallic braces, but I accept.

Thus begin the questions. What did you do in Syria? Why did you study Arabic? What is your work? Why did you help tenants? How much was your apartment in Syria? Do you have receipts for your classes? How are you able to pay for your trip? She writes down everything I say, while swatting at the flies. Where are you going in Israel? Ok, where are you going in the West Bank? I ask, provocatively: Is Jerusalem part of the West Bank? To which she enigmatically replies, Not yet. Forty minutes later, she's done, I'm parched and she tells me to wait.

Some time later, I'm asked by another agent to retrieve my bag, which he then asks me to set aside on an inspection table. I'm again told to wait. The crowds pass by towards the exit. The flies are swarming, not allowing me to sleep. Exhausted. I'm the only one still waiting, though new "detainees" (as I am calling myself now) come and go frequently.

Another 45 minutes later, bag inspection. They go through everything, in detail, and throw it on the table. A USB drive? Red light. In a separate box. Robert Fisk's "The Great War for Civilization"? Red light. Funnily, Edward Said's "The Question of Palestine" gets a green light. I expected more problems about that. Why do you have a flashlight? Oh, so when I meet Hizbollah in the mountains, I can see who I am talking to, I think sarcastically. "No reason, just in case of emergencies." A birthday card written in Arabic? Red light. I had secretly stuffed my kuffiyeh in the leg of a pair of pants, and held my breath as the officer groped the pants. He didn't catch it. I exhaled heavily and rested a hand on the pair of pants, as if to defend it from further groping. A voice recorder?! Red light. A Macbook? Green light. Flies? Many.

We take the red light items into a back room, after I take my cool time in packing my bags. We enter a room. The secret service agent, much friendlier now in the company of two male couterparts, takes leave. A curtain closes. What the hell? Am I to be bodily searched? Yes. Check his shoes. Socks. Drop your pants. Anything hidden under the scrotum, no. Between the butt cheeks, no. They say something in Hebrew and laugh. It was a lesson in humiliation. The occupation must show its power and your powerlessness. You are nothing, we are power. I wished I could have at least farted on him.

They finish, and I am shaking, maybe out of anger, or humiliation, or both. Even during my arrests in the US, I was never strip searched. But I told myself that this is just a fraction of what Palestinians experience everyday, so I shouldn't try to talk about false pride or something like that.

The secret service woman returns and I mention the laughing. She embarrasedly replies, "some boys never grow up." They make me sign a paper, all written in Hebrew, which I demand to be read in English. I could have demanded it written in English, but I am took tired. Am I under arrest?

"No, but you have been arrested before, correct?"

Oh, you saw the GW Hatchet on-line article which mentions my arrest at a Critical Mass Bike Ride. (Note: to be an Israeli secret service agent, you have to know how to use Google). "Yes, I was arrested." For what? "I believe for biking in the opposite direction of traffic and generally blocking traffic." Who else was arrested with you? "Lots of people." Including anyone you know? "Oh yes, my friend Miles who I will be staying with in Ramallah." What were you protesting? "The War". Which one? "The Invasion of Iraq." You were against that war? "Yes, I was, and I still am." My tone is finally defiant. You weren't protesting Israel? "No." (We all know my memory is sometimes shady, so here's the article.)

They return me to the entrance and tell me to wait. Will I be turned back? I prepare myself for denial of entry. It's hot now, and the flies are still here.

I'm called to another window, and my passport is returned to me. I suppose as a reward for not losing my patience with the robots, I have been given 3 months and no stamp in my passport (which comes in handy if I want to go to Muslim countries other than Jordan, Egypt or Turkey). I did it. I'm in Palestine. Eleven months later after starting my trip, I am in Palestine.

I exit the processing center and catch a bus to Jericho to wait for Miles. Along the way, PA police stop us and check our passports. They seem very relaxed, as they should, since there is nothing for them to police, the Israelis are the ones in control. They seem to be checking for contraband in one youth's bag as they joke with me. I'm sort of a novelty, it seems, and they are very friendly to me. We discuss the occupation, and some people tell me about how useless the PA police really is. At the Jericho bus station, a PA sign talks about the "liberated zone of Jericho".

The flies are still there. Miles picks me up and we drive to Ramallah. Welcome to occupied Palestine.

Nilin Brings Down the Wall

2009-11-06T13:05:00.003-08:00

Thanks, Joe DeRaymond

2009-10-02T01:00:00.001-07:00

Joe DeRaymond sharing a sunset with Ivan and Perrucho in La Union, 2003

I'm sitting in a little Damascene cafe, preparing for my Monday morning presentation on International Humanitarian Law and its relevance in today's world, sipping a slightly bitter lemon juice. Usually I come here with my friends to play chess or smoke the sheesha or just chat after school, when the place is bustling with students, writers, idiots and thinkers. Now, on a Friday morning, it's quiet and calm.

Actually, I wish it were a little busier right now. I suddenly feel drained of energy and there's a whirling pit in my stomach which makes me feel a little dizzy and off-balance. I just learned that Joe DeRaymond, a solid, long-time revolutionary and my former FOR companion in San José de Apartadó (Colombia), has passed away after a long struggle with brain cancer.

It wasn't just Joe's massive physical presence that impacted you (I remember all the donkeys were too small in San José to carry Joe 2 hours up to La Union, so despite his leg pains, he'd bow his head and quietly trudge up the mountain), it was also his intellectual capacity and ability to empathize with oppressed people everywhere. He gave everything to the struggle.

I was a crazy 21-year old eager to run up the mountain and swing a machete and be crazy, and he was a cured fighter, quietly whittling away at discarded pieces of wood with his pocketknife and fashioning them into little figures which he would set on his windowsill, or give to people who stopped by the old school where he slept. I remember one time, I came to that windowsill and watched him carve and he slipped and cut his finger. He roared a profanity that scared the shit out of me and everyone in a 2 mountain range-radius, but later continued his work. He was funny.

Don Ramon one time came up to us and told us that he was constipated and couldn't seem to expel anything. Joe, the medic, had some raisin and told him to eat it. The next day, Ramon came back, visibly relieved, and we all shared a hearty laugh.

Joe, also an amazing writer, wrote a paper last year after coming back from El Salvador, when he first learned of his brain cancer. Perhaps he risked his own life by reporting on atrocities and injustices committed against others.

Thanks, Joe, for everything you did and for being a regular hero and a comrade. We'll miss you.

P.S. FOR (Fellowship of Reconciliation), the group Joe and I worked with for a year in Colombia, is currently going through a process of independentization and they need your help. They are still doing some awesome work in San José, accompanying the Peace Community, but have also extended their solidarity to other groups in Colombia. If you are able and willing to donate a few dollars to their awesome project, click http://www.forcolombia.org/ for more information, or contact Liza Smith at liza@igc.org.

Al-Quneiytra

2009-09-20T09:00:00.000-07:00

I got my permit to go to Al-Quneiytra, the Syrian city at the entrance of the Golan Heights, and this morning set off on my little yellow bike, southwards along the Eastern Lebanon Mountain Range (or, according to the "Western" name, the "Anti-Lebanon Mountain Range"... hmm, that's not political at all), past olive fields and apple orchards. As you get closer to the Golan, the breeze gets cooler and carries the smell of pine. It's a refreshing change from the gridlock and grime of Damascus.

Today was also the Muslim holiday of Eid Al-Fitr, marking the end of Ramadan. I suppose people celebrate that not only by eating and congratulating each other, but actually giving plastic guns to their young sons. So all along the road I was being shot at by hordes of little brats. One of them actually gave me a welt on my belly... what the hell happened to Legos? Maybe those were the "arms sales" the Russia recently announced to Syria. I think the Syrians should be wary of those Russian arms; the last time they used them, they lost the Golan.

I left home at 6am, and 4 hours, 40 miles, one flat tire, one shwarma, two nasty Spam sandwiches and one cucumber later, I found myself in the Liberated City. It's pretty liberated: no one is living there, except for the few secret police who accompanied me around the city, showing me the ruins of houses, hospitals and churches the Israelis left behind as they retreated. From the third floor of the bombed-out, bullet-ridden hospital (one guard takes his position on the second floor which must be really boring), you can see the mountains of the occupied Golan Heights, with a huge Israeli surveillance base watching us.

After a few jokes, my police companions lighten up, and the officer tells his subordinate to ride my bike and he offers to take me around on his motorcycle. For a second, I think about equality and comraderie, but then quickly brush that thought out of my mind and happily jump on the motorcycle. We go past more houses, mined-areas and generally depressing scenes from a city that once was home to some 16,000 people, according to Officer "Can't-Tell-You-My-Name". When I ask him about peace with Israel, he candidly admits, "In Sha Allah". He catches me off-guard when he says that Syria would be willing to share the precious water of Lake Tiberias with the Israelis, but says that Israel doesn't want that, and I think he might be right. The Golan Heights is one of the more fertile areas of Syria, and now of Israel, and an important source of water in the region. The Golan Heights have also entered the realm of cyber-war recently, with Facebook allowing their users in the occupied territories to choose between describing their location as "Israel or Syria".

The most recent international efforts to return the occupied territory to the Syrians were interrupted when Syria unilaterally ended them in protest of last December's Israeli-massacre of Gazans. Obama's recent efforts have failed to produce anything, so for now, it seems that Al-Quneiytra will remain a ghost town, frequented by a few crazy gringos on yellow bikes.

My New Bike

2009-09-18T09:58:00.000-07:00

So I finally bought a bike at a used (or stolen) bike street-fair (if you’re interested, held ever Friday in Zublatani). Most of the bikes are vegetable sellers’ bikes, and I was told that it is embarrassing to be seen riding one of those to the university unless you are delivering vegetables to the severely-understocked school cafeteria. And I would never dare to be seen as a vegetable seller. I already look strange enough with this weird hole that suddenly appeared in my beard. Does anyone know what to do? People told me to rub lemon and garlic on it (sounds lovely); if I were in Colombia, some campesino would tell me to put a freshly-laid egg on it, or even to rub some fresh horse shit into it. Oh! Why can’t I have Ben Bernanke’s lush recession-proof beard??

My bike is a nice, blinding yellow, indistinguishable between the yellow taxis zipping past me at 120 kph (that’s kilometers per hour, not Kansas Public Housing), and I actually enjoy surviving the 10-minute trip to university that I make every day. Past the pictures of Bashar in uniform, the pictures of Bashar amidst flowers, Bashar smiling. Why can’t they put up a picture of Asma, the first lady? Apart from sounding like a respiratory illness, she’s quite attractive and it would make my trip better. Actually, there are posters of Nasrallah, the cherubic Hezbollah leader, smiling at me from all the alley walls of my neighborhood. He looks almost as cute as Asma.

And I went to the permits office today to register for a permit to go to Qunaitrah, the city in the Golan Heights. Most Syrians can’t go there, but it seems to be easier for foreigners, I suppose because they want to show how Israel left the city. I thought it was pretty amusing when the official asked me, very seriously: “So you want to see the liberated city?” I asked, “You mean Qunaiytrah.” “Yes, the liberated city.” I wanted to say yes, I want to see the city that you Syrians had so bravely wrestled from Satan’s claws, but I second-guessed my sarcasm. Actually, historical check: I’m pretty sure it was through negotiations that they got that city back... anyone know?

If I get the permit, I will try to bike to the Golan Heights and let you all know how interesting or not it is. Actually, my housemate (who is still sleepy, but talks more now), has relayed to me - over several evening tea breaks - that he was a veteran of the 1973 “Yom Kippur” War (when Eygpt and Syria tried to take back the Sinai and the Golan, respectively). He has the shrapnel wounds to prove it. Apparently, he was on the front lines of this bloody conflict (that left some 10,000 dead in roughly two weeks), entered 5 km into Israeli territory, and he pointed out to me that when he took some Israelis captive, the first thing he did (after taking away their weapons) was to give them some of his army rations. That was a nice last meal. (Just kidding.)

Other than that, some of us took a trip to a small village outside of Damascus to go to a Greek Orthodox festival. It was quite fun, and interesting. It’s a small town with a majority Christian population. (In spite of the fact that the Orthodoxes - or is it Orthodoxi? - had littered the surrounding hills with hundreds of lit-up crosses, some wise guy decided to build a mosque right in the middle of town.) The festival got a little strange, however, when someone lit a cross on fire. Not sure if that was intended, but I felt a little strange. I got really anxious when I saw people dressed in robes, but then relaxed a little when I realized they were just nuns. Or were they penguins...? hmmm...

And my pops is visiting me in October. If any of you speak to him, convince him not to bring over those books I told him too, because they will probably cause me to be stranded on the Palestinian-Jordanian border, arguing with some 20-year-old budding fascist, and that would really blow.

That’s the news from out here. Wish me luck on my midterms and on my bike ride!

PS. I finally uploaded the video of the Kurdish dancers. You can check it out here.

First Day of Class

2009-09-06T11:16:00.000-07:00

Sorry I haven't written, things here aren't nearly exciting as rebellious mountain dancing in the Turkish Southeast. By the way, I have been meaning to put up a video of this incredible Kurdish dance group, but everytime I spend an hour uploading it, at the end it says error. So until I can show you all the video, here is another one that is equally interesting.

Other than that, I started my first day of class today at the University of Damascus. It's ok so far, we'll see how it goes. I have a new roommate, a middle-aged Syrian man who is really nice and teaches me Syrian Arabic, but seems to sleep a lot. Maybe talking to me makes him tired.

Ok, that's it for now. Everything good. In Iraq, I guess things seem to be heating up between the Kurds and the Arabs, over Kirkuk's oil. And Iraq and Syria are having a little fight. US bombing Afghans and Pakistanis. Everything normal.

Back again!

2009-08-22T05:07:00.000-07:00

I had used a few proxy servers to get on to Blogger, but they didn't work, finally I found a good one. Proxyblind.com. So, I'll put up my last Wordpress entry here, too.

hey everyone,
hanging out with some Kurdish fellows in the town of Nusaybin, and we were waiting for a protest to erupt against Turkish occupation. All the businesses were closed in solidarity, and I couldn't find any doner to eat, so they brought some cheese and olives for me from their houses.

As I crossed the border, I waved back to my new friends and said "Long Live Kurdistan", in Kurdish, to which the Turkish borders guards, already red from the near 45-degree temperatures (that's Celsius, guys), got even redder. Haha.

After about an hour of questions, all laughing though, I was allowed into Syria. In the town of Al-Qamishli, a mostly Kurdish town, I hung out with some more Kurds that go to Damascus University.

(Now the real depressing part, sorry that was just a prelude, a teaser.)

It was actually pretty depressing, because they were telling me how the Syrian government treats the Kurds (the same as the Turks). The only difference is that the Kurds can't really have a armed rebellion because in that area it is mostly desert (not much place to hide), and also Bashar's daddy, Hafez, taught everyone a lesson, when at the beginning of the 1980's, he squashed an Islamist uprising in the town of Hama by razing an entire section of the city with bombs. Result: a few thousand dead, and everyone knew who was the boss.

I saw how the police come by, and just to mess with people, take their bikes or whatever and say that they are in offense, and make them pay a fine. They came up to my Kurdish guests shoe stall and tried to say that suddenly they were in violation for something. Everything was settled with approximately 0.75 cents and a pat on the back. (That's a large sum considering a shoe salesman's worker makes about $3 a day). Corrupt as hell. They tried to come after me for something, but when I started speaking Arabic and said that I was Obama's long-haired brother, they gave sheepish grins and said "Welcome!"

Damascus is big. It's a tad cooler than Cairo, putting it around 110 degrees (that's Faranheit, guys). I'm trying to figure out how to find an apartment and get ready for school registration. I think that should be exciting.

So we'll see how this Syrian sojourn goes. If I end up pooping on a police car and going to jail, you guys will start a campaign to free me, right?

Oh, one thing, about militarism in the Arab world. It sucks and is really depressing. Check out this great article by one of those "backpackers" who was recently arrested in Iran after crossing from Iraq. http://www.thenation.com/doc/20090622/bauer. It's too bad that the empire and the rest of the world props up these guys to suit their own ends. Oh wait, that's the same story in Latin America, Africa, Asia and any non-Westernized country, right? I keep forgetting that and get all these romantic delusions. Damn.

And I promise that I won't try growing another Bashar-like moustache.

Among the "Children of the Sun"

2009-08-17T03:20:00.000-07:00

Bigee Kurdistan! Viva Kurdistan!

I'm writing from the city of Hakkari, population 200,000, close to the border with Iran and Iraq. These past few days have been a mixture of awe, hope, sadness and revolutionary energy. But that is why I came to Kurdistan in the first place, to understand and feel those emotions.

I had read in the newspaper that Abdullah Ocalan ("Apo"), the PKK's jailed leader, would announce the rebels' peace plan on August 15th, coinciding with the 25th anniversary of the PKK's first armed action. It would be held in the same town that witnessed the start of this bloody war, a small town called Eruh, in the Şirnak province. (Eruh, by the way, is the Turkish name. Dihe is the Kurdish name. As part of the Turkish nationalism and subsequent intent to disappear the Kurdish people, all town and city names were changed to Turkish). What I thought would be a simple reading of the peace plan, with possibly some celebrations, was actually a cultural and political reinvindication on a massive scale: some 20,000+ Kurds from all over the country flocked to this tiny town, dancing up a dust cloud, chanting PKK slogans, and in general, feeling proud to be Kurdish.

Parliamentarians from the pro-Kurdish DTP party were present alongside women, men, elders, children, all flashing the "V" sign and calling for peace. The DTP party is undergoing a Batasuna-type persecution, as the Turkish government is considering banning them for alleged links to the PKK. Links to the PKK? They would have to try all 20,000 people attending the festival, because everyone I talked to and danced with were consumed by the PKK. Some elder women and men with whom I talked told me that they, too, had served in the Kurdish army. It was in the dances, the songs, the womens' ululations; it was in the air, in the dust, and even in the mountains, as at night, the seemingly elusive guerrillas defied the Turkish extra-security measures (tanks, army, riot squads, you name it) and from the mountain sides, lit fires that spelled out "Apo" and "PKK". It was surreal.

(As for criminalizing the DTP, Turkey should learn a good lesson from Colombia's civil war, when the government's politicide of the Patriotic Union forced many people back into the mountains.)

Apparently I was the only foreigner there, and people were either welcoming, curious or oblivious, but mostly the first two. I was put through impromptu intensive Kurdish-language courses and taught how to dance by linking pinky fingers and putting your whole heart and soul into it.

The guns in the mountains were silent that day, although the rest of my journey showed me that Kurdistan is a region under absolute and complete military occupation. On the road from Şirnak to Hakkari, there is a checkpoint almost every 10km, making the already torturous drive (everyone was puking from the winding roads) that much more horrible. Tanks and APCs line the highway. Almost every village along the road has a military base (the Turkish armed forces number some 1,000,000+, making it the secong largest armed forces in NATO after the US. If you figure the Turkish population is roughly 75 million, that makes 1 in 75 people...), and if there are no soldiers, you most likely catch sight of Kurdish men armed with AK-47s: the village guards. In Colombia, they are called paramilitaries or "Convivir", but other than that there is no difference. In exchange for near total impunity, the village guards are fully equipped and sent out to defend against PKK attacks. A massacre in May of this year by village guards at a wedding has not affected their utilization by the Turkish army.

On one bus trip, a pretty burly Kurd sat next to me, and after determining that I posed no threat, pulled out his mobile phone and showed me a video. It showed a dead Kurdish fighter on the road, his tongue having been cut out by the Turkish public forces before he was killed.

In Beytuşşebap, I was questioned as to why I was in this area. Aren't I afraid? Do I know the PKK? It reminded me all of Colombia. I could see the policeman (many of them dress as civilians) struggling to try to make a connection with the PKK. When I said that my parents were from Sri Lanka, I knew he was remembering the LTTE from his intelligence training; in Eruh, a few people asked if I knew Prabhakaran!

One police officer asked me if I liked this area, to which I replied that it was beautiful. He seemed sincere when he retorted "You think this SHIT is beautiful? It's nothing but rock!" I could only imagine what he thought of Kurds.

That night, in Beytuşşebap, I met some friends of a friend who took me to a traditional pre-wedding ceremony. Some of the songs brazenly sung support of Apo. I had a lot of questions I wanted to ask, but the party, my hosts' barrage of questions to me and my own tiredness prevented me from asking about the divisions between the pro- and anti-PKK Kurds, about how their friends felt on their last night before entering the Turkish army (practically forced conscription of 15 months), what they thought about government efforts to pump money into Kurdistan in an attempt to buy their Turkish-ness, etc.

It's been an amazing time. Hope to keep you all updated on more stuff. Oh and by the way, Ocalan's peace map wasn't revealed after all on the 15th, because apparently it wasn't ready. Should be out by the 19th. The far-right MHP party and the CHP are already opposing the PKK plan as well as the ruling AKP's plan for the "Kurdish problem" saying that it goes against Kemalist (Ataturkist) notions of Turkish unity. So 2009 may see the end of the conflict, or once againg simply a lull in fighting. We'll see...

Pictures from Kurdistan, click here.

From Kurdistan, with love

2009-08-13T12:14:00.000-07:00

Checking in from the capital of Turkish Kurdistan (oh yeah, I said the K-word... and it wasn't Ataturk backwards), Diyarbakir, a pretty crowded and intense city on the banks of the Tigris River (I also crossed the Euphrates today, too!). It's a city with history: inside the old-walled city, there are Syriac Orthodox churches and Armenian churches. It's also a city under seige: just take a walk past the main police station (a few blocks from one of Turkey's oldest mosques, the Ulu Camii) and you can't miss the helmeted troops hunkered down in APC's, machine-gunned turrets swiveling back and forth. It's like Saravena or Barrancabermeja when the Colombian army started to take over those towns.

People strongly identify as Kurdish, and go wild whenever I say thank you in their language. I'm hoping to do a little more looking around this land before heading south into Syria. On August 15th, Ocalan, the PKK's imprisioned leader, is set to announce his "Roadmap to Peace", and if all goes according to plans, it will be read from Eruh, a tiny town not far from here where the first military action of the PKK against the Turkish state took place on August 15th, 1984. I hope to make it there.

This week, a famous Kurdish singer, Aram Tigran, died. He always said that the Turks, Kurds, Armenians and Arabs were brothers and sung in all those languages. He was much loved by the Kurds and his final wish was to be buried here in Diyarbakir. Unfortunately, the Turkish interior minister denied his burial here, and so yesterday he was buried in Brussels. This followed on the tail of a report of police in the western-city of Izmir banned the performance of
the play "Araf", about the murder of Kurdish journalist Musa Anter in 1992 in Diyarbakir.

On a rebellious note, last night as I was sitting around reading and watching a meteor shower over Mt. Nemrut, a young Kurdish guy who worked at the hotel walked past me humming "Bella Ciao". I had a fantasy that it was a secret password among comrades that I had inadvertently stumbled into. And when I asked a metal worker who picked me up on the way down the mountain about peace in Kurdistan, he said something in Kurdish, said PKK and flashed me what I thought was a subversive smile.

Anyways, on a realist note, check out this article about mothers of Turkish soldiers and PKK fighters coming together to say no more war. Another article here.

Update: Actually, singing Bella Ciao doesn't necessarily mean that one is PKK. Apparently, the PKK is more tuned into Kurdish music. So I'm not sure why the kid was humming Bella Ciao... sorry.

New Pics from Turkey and Cyprus up

2009-08-01T08:54:00.000-07:00

Check them out here!

You won't see pictures of the Imperial Treasury of the Topkapı Palace, because we weren't allowed to take pictures, but it was the craziest set of treasure I have ever seen. Lots of diamonds, rubies, gold, emeralds as well as the famous Topkapı Dagger, which was to be given to the Pasha of Iran from the Ottomans, but he died before they could get it to him. So they decided to keep it. (They were probably like, "phew! we really didn't want to give this away!")

There was also an amazing collection of religious artifacts, like Moses' stick (the one that Charlton Heston threw on the ground, dumbass), the footprint of Mohammed when he ascended to heaven, Mohammed's beard (!), and I think what was supposed to be St. John's arm. That was some weird shit, it was still in it's armor, but you could see the mummified hand inside.

The treasury just showed the opulence of the Ottoman empire, which someone still resonates today. Everything seems elegant here. I love just sitting by the Bosphorous and watching the people drink tea and enjoying themselves. (Yeah, I just sit for hours and pick a group of people to stare at until they get uncomfortable). People are so chill and inviting. The weather is great (oh by the way, I felt my first rain in 4 months last night!).

Also, down south, we visited the Greco-Roman ruins of the city of Ephesus, which was pretty cool, too. The Artemis Temple, one of the seven wonders of the world, wasn't there anymore.

I moved into a sweeeet apartment, a block from the Galata tower. From the living room you can see the Blue Mosque, the Hagia Sofia and the Topkapı Palace... and an amazing rooftop terrace. I'll be doing some reading and hopefully relaxing for 10 days here before moving on. I'm reading this great book called Wizard of the Crow by Kenyan Ngugi Wa Thiong'o. I should be reading about Turkey, though.

Enjoy the pics!

P.S. Oh, Youtube is blocked here, because of some online fight between Greeks and Turks, where the Greeks insulted Atatürk (a crime in Turkey). No more videos of labiaplasty and scrotum reduction, sorry guys.

P.P.S. They also blocked my cell phone, so for all of you who never call me, now you have a real excuse. (Apparently, you can't use a foreign cell phone with a local SIM card.)

Getting to Turkey

2009-07-28T03:09:00.000-07:00

There is SOOO much i want to tell you guys about Turkey. ıt's much better than that stupıd D.A.R.E. commercıal back ın the days where the dope fıend was lıke "are you chıcken?" and the pressured kıd saıd "ı'm not a chıcken, you're a turkey!" I thınk that ad really had an ımpact on me, because up to now I really wasn't ınterested ın Turkey.

oh, before that, just have to recall thıs funny ıncıdent when ı crossed the DMZ on a bıke ın Cyprus. The Greek guard was lıke "Nıcholas Alexander?? Are you Greek?! That's a Greek name!" and he happıly stamped my passport and have me a huge smıle. ı passed through the buffer zone, whıch ıs nothıng more than old dılapıted buıldıngs and UN apartments and offıces. A Carlsberg beer truck was allowed to pass to delıver some kegs of beer to the UN personnel. That's the real reason that the UN doesn't want a real solutıon: they just want to drınk beer ın one of the most beautıful countrıes ın the world. It seems lıke they mıght try reconcılıatıon agaın. ı talked to thıs one turkısh cyprıot woman who told me "we're all cyprıots, whether greek or turkısh." I thought that was a nıce summıng up of the ıssue. Lots of people told me that polıtıcıans were to blame for the ımpasse.

The Turkısh border guard dıdn't seem to be as happy about my name, but he let me ın. I was ın the Turkısh Republıc of Northern Cyprus! ı am savıng that stamp ın my passport.

The one thıng that stuck ın my head as I crossed customs ın Istanbul was that there was thıs TV that was passıng all these ads wıth skınny models sportıng fancy watches or bronzed muscle-men lookıng ıntensely at somethıng ın the dıstance. Well that wasn't the ınterestıng part. The ınterestıng part was between those ads and pıcture of a haıry, smıley guy popped up. It was Ocalan, the head of the PKK and they were announcıng how he was prısoner on a lıttle ısland ın the mıddle of the Marmara sea, just outsıde Istanbul. It was pretty surreal.

People have flags and photos of Atatürk everywhere. It would be strange ıf we had pıcs of George Washıngton pasted everywhere. He's lıke a god here. People seem really natıonalıstıc as well. I'll put up some pıcs of Topkapı Palace, the Blue Mosque and other stuff later. There's a lot to learn here. I'm also enjoyıng lots of apple tea. People are frıendly as usual, but no one seems to speak Englısh! It's lıke, come on, we gıve you guys so much mılıtary aıd, why the hell don't you speak our language?? ı thınk we can start a campaıgn for Obama to drop aıd to Turkey based on thıs very ımportant fact.

Anyways, that's ıt for now. Sorry for the "ı", ıt's really hard to get used to fındıng the "i" on thıs keyboard. Rıght now at the beach and hopıng to check out the rest of the country later.

Besotes!
Nıko

Letter from Cyprus

2009-07-20T03:58:00.000-07:00

Slowly working my way closer to Istanbul, city by city. now it is 2pm, 4 hours to go until i can relax (at the house where I'll stay tonight, can't arrive before 6pm). the sun here in nicosia is brutal. met this nigerian guy and his nigerian friends and they took the bus with me to nicosia (the capital of Cyprus and coincidentally, my homeland. Oh, also they drive on the left hand side here, legacy of the Brits.). he was really nice, helped me with my bag, and since i was really tired, he helped me get to a park where i slept a little more on a park bench. feel a little better. he said he would come back after his meeting with someone, but it started getting sunny and i got hot. so i walked out and ran into a little sri lankan store! (actually, I didn't run into it, but coolly approached it). i took a picture and walked in, and started chatting the guys up in my awful sinhala. but they were cool. the guy asked if i had had lunch, and i said no, and started hoping for offers of nice curry and string hoppers, but he didn't say anything more on the subject. maybe he was just interested to know if i had eaten. haha. in any case, he was really impressed by my bag, he thought it was really heavy, though he had gigantic muscles, more greek-like that sri-lankan like. and there are so many different people here in nicosia, not at all like larnaca, which we could compare to manhattan in terms of touristy, and nicosia would be brooklyn. it would be nice to live here for awhile. i saw a sign in the park announcing a handsome european man was looking for a pretty filipina. well some things never change. one of the first things tony, the nigerian, told me was that it was nice living in larnaca (he lives there, but studies in nicosia) but that people say "strange things". i pressed further: "like racist comments?" "Yeah." melting pots are always so volatile. Like the one time in Puerto Matilde (Magdalena Medio) when a pressure cooker full of beans blew up and tore a hole through the aluminum roofing bought with money from the European Union.
The bus ride, through my sleepy eyes, was nice, the countryside is hilly to mountainous and, at least in this part, arid and sort of sandy, but with those pretty thin trees that make me visualize a greek countryside. Tonight after showering and relaxing, hoping to get a tour of the city and maybe check out the wall, since it is the 30th anniversary of the Turkish invasion today. I imagine it will be something like the Berlin Wall. There were two Greek Cypriot nationalists handing out flyers in Greek over in Larnaca, and I asked them to explain it to me, but either they really couldn't speak English, or they refused to. Oh well. I should probably ditch the flyer before entering Turkish Cyprus.
Other than that, there are a lot of really gorgeous people here. Seen a few bronzed Greek gods and goddesses like in the movies. Some fake looking ones, too. I was reading in my in-flight magazine that Cyprus was one of the premier destinations for plastic surgery. Maybe I will get my lips thinned out... is that called labiaplasty?

love, nico

ps: don't forget to click on my name! enjoy! please let me know if you appreciate these informational videos.

"Pacho" Santos, NAM and Colombians in the Sinai

2009-07-18T01:11:00.000-07:00

I was just flipping through the news the other day when I stumbled upon a telecast of the 15th Summit of the Non-Aligned Movement (NAM), being held from the 13th-16th of July in Sharm El Sheikh (the hotspot for all those overly tanned Russians, Israelis and other Europeans on the Red Sea). Does anyone really know (or care) what the NAM does anymore? I don't. All I know is that everyone was calling Mubarak "His Excellency" and he looked, as he usually does, proud of himself. Someone took a great picture of him, here.

Anyways, jokes aside, I was pleased to hear the King of Swaziland decry the coup in Honduras (finally, we had been lobbying him hard just to get him to say that!). The President of the DR also mentioned Honduras quite often (he was actually delegated by Zelaya to do carry forth the Honduran case), and the newly sworn-in Nepalese PM seemed to be tired. At least while Colombian VP Franciso "Pacho" Santos was blabbering, his eyes were half-closed. Mine were, too, as I listened to Pacho squeal out his defense of the Uribe regime and how all NAM countries have to continue collaborating in the fight against "terrorism". How are countries like Colombia still considered "non-aligned"? Does the proposed installation of US troops and "advisors" in three Colombian bases (one of them used as a launching pad for a massacre of 18 civilians in 1998) to replace Manta mean that Colombia is still "non-aligned"?

It was reported on the Vice President's website that after Pacho's talk, he would hit the aguardiente and dancefloor in the Sinai with members of the Batallón Colombia, part of the independent international observation force assigned to make sure no funny things happen on the border between Egypt and Israel, such as indiscriminate bombings of Gaza civilians. (Ok, that really isn't in their mandate. The Batallón Colombia, made up of some 150 or so soldiers and civilians is actually the only unit in the Colombian Army not mandated to fight or kill. Incredible!) Santos will celebrate July 20th, Colombian "Independence" Day in the middle of the desert, most likely in this outpost (headquarters of the Batallón Colombia in Zone C of the Sinai):

Haha, sucker. I hope it's really hot.

Afterwards, he will travel to Israel (of course) to meet with "the hawk" Lieberman and "the dove" Livni, as well as a handful of "technology and innovation" companies... see more about Israel-Colombia connection. Israel has long helped Colombia in "innovation" and "interrogation" techniques.

Well, I got so bored of watching the NAM after a while that I changed the station and enjoyed the Egyptian rip-off of "Don't Forget the Line" with the host who dressed EXACTLY like Wayne Brady and even looked as white as Wayne Brady (joke). But they really did find an Egyptian who acted pretty Wayne Brady-ish.

And two articles were published recently. Natasha's on Cell Broadcasting in the Maldives (yeah!) and Carmen Andrea's article on Escobar's Dead Hippo. Yeah for both of them! I'm out of Alexandria tomorrow, will check in when I get a chance!

'We won't let anyone turn us around'

2009-07-13T08:42:00.000-07:00

from Viva Palestina Convoy.

Michael Prysner, ANSWER Coalition delegate on the Viva Palestine convoy to Gaza.

At about 6:30 p.m. on Saturday, July 11, we arrived at the Suez Canal in a lead contingent of approximately 50 individuals, including New York City Council Member Charles Barron. Our four buses pulled up to an Egyptian checkpoint carrying wheelchairs, crutches and walkers for the multitude of amputees in Gaza, along with school supplies, clothing and a variety medical supplies scarce in Gaza.

The plan was to head to Al-Arish and wait for the rest of the convoy before heading out for the Rafah border. In all of the planning leading up to our departure on July 4, and during the week we spent in Cairo, we have gone through all the necessary channels with the U.S. and Egyptian governments to ensure a safe passage. Both governments are well aware of our presence and mission here, and we have complied with their every request.

But when we arrived at the checkpoint, the Egyptian authorities had been waiting for us, and immediately directed us to a side road which was barricaded. They were given orders to not let us pass no matter what. They persistently attempted to turn us around back to Cairo.

At this checkpoint, however, we were not even crossing any borders. We were simply trying to move about freely within Egypt, from one province to another, a right granted to U.S. citizens in the country. We, of course, refused to turn around.

After three hours of negotiations, the authorities showed no signs of budging. They would give us no explanation why they would not allow us to cross. We all exited the buses and began chanting in support of the Palestinian people.

Failing to bully us, the Egyptian police began threatening the bus drivers with fines and arrest, and demanding that they turn the buses around. A police arrest wagon rolled in, along with riot police, obviously threatening arrest, but we were not intimidated.

Our delegation stayed strong throughout the night. The Egyptian police physically assaulted Viva Palestina members several times, shoving young women and grabbing young men. Each time, the entire force of the contingent stood up to the police.

A wave of press began to cover the unfolding confrontation. We were interviewed by international media.

As the sun began to rise, with all of us camped out around the buses, the police suddenly said we could cross. We all loaded in, believing the ordeal had ended. Our excitement did not last long: as soon as the vehicles began to move we realized that it was a trick. The buses were being directed back to Cairo. We jumped off the moving buses and blocked their path with our bodies.

Throughout the entire conflict, Councilmember Barron was on the phone with the State Department, the White House, the U.S. Embassy and other officials. Many other delegation members called the Embassy describing the events.

By about 9:30 a.m., we had reached a stalemate. Nobody in the Embassy, foreign ministry or State Department would request that we be let through.

After nearly 12 hours of negotiating with the Embassy, we were informed that we would be allowed to pass if we completed some additional paperwork?which the Embassy claimed was required from the beginning, yet without ever bringing that to our attention prior to this point.

We have now met up with British MP George Galloway, former U.S. Congressional Representative Cynthia McKinney, and Dead Prez rapper M-1 back in Cairo. Galloway confirmed that we had complied with all of the Egyptian government?s requests several times over; the new requirements were bureaucratic hoops meant to stall our caravan. Galloway said, "If the Egyptian authorities want us to jump through yet another hoop, we will."Our plan is to return to the same checkpoint tomorrow with over 50 vehicles and 170 people strong.

Standing together were teenagers as young as 17 and seniors in their 70s, people of every religion, from a multitude of nationalities, speaking nearly 10 different languages, and encompassing a wide range of political experience. Several in the group only recently joined the Palestine solidarity movement after the December 2008/January 2009 Israeli massacre in Gaza?a massacre appalling for its brutality. The ability of the Palestinian people in Gaza to remain steadfast in the face of this has in turn inspired solidarity from people all over the world.

The Viva Palestina convoy expects progress on all fronts tomorrow and is calling on sympathetic organizations to mobilize their networks and stand ready for actions such as solidarity protests at Egyptian embassies and consulates.

For more information, read here.

Fairouz...

2009-06-26T08:25:00.001-07:00

Famous Lebanese singer.

Article in Leftturn Magazine about Barí and ASCAMCAT

2009-06-23T04:59:00.000-07:00

Andrew Willis Garcés put together a nice piece about the alliance between Colombia's indigenous Barí and the campesinos of ASCAMCAT in the Catatumbo region of Northeast Colombia, which was recently published in Leftturn magazine.

"To reach one of the Colombian indigenous tribes that overlaps with Venezuela, you first need to get to the town of Honduras, in the municipality of Convención in the Norte de Santander department. It is accessible by a precarious, one-lane dirt road hugging the eastern spine of the Andes Mountains; average speed, about 12 mph. From there you walk or, if you’re lucky, ride a donkey past acres of relatively new coca fields and forest being cleared for that or pasture. After four hours you’ll arrive at the state Catatumbo-Barí Forest Reserve and the small village of Bridicayra, one of the few remaining indigenous Barí settlements."

Read the rest of the article here.

People and Power: Chiquita Banana on Video

2009-06-22T03:30:00.000-07:00

from Al-Jazeera English. Some clips of San José people! Qué bello...
You can check out more videos here.

Jerusalem Diaries

2009-06-08T05:55:00.001-07:00

Arabic Course 101

2009-05-30T08:55:00.000-07:00

I finally got into learning about the roots of Arabic words. All the other previous grammar was hard, but boring. This is hard, but exciting!

There is one word that wraps up what the Arabic language is like:
القاموس (al-kamuus), which means "dictionary".... but it also means "ocean" because it comes from the root قمس (kamasa) which means "to immerse, to soak, to steep". My mind is just blown away. What an amazing language.

Also, to say "I feel lonely", you can say "أشعر بالوحيدة " (ash'ur bil-wahiida). أشعر comes from the root شعر and means "to know, to feel, to perceive" (among other meanings). الشُعور (as-shu'uur) means "knowledge or perception".

and مشترك (mushtarak) means "collective, combined, or common"....

Stay with me...

If you put them together, you get: الشعر المشترك (as-shu'uur al-mushtarak), which literally means, "perception or knowledge of the collective" = "SOLIDARITY".... oh shitttttttt!!!!

And coming from the same root as مشترك (which is شرك , or "to share, participate, associate"), you have the word اشتراكية , which means.... drum roll... "socialism".

Well, I think that's the same root in English, so that isn't so exciting. Who said socialism was exciting anyways??

Maybe anarchy...

New Blog Added to List

2009-05-28T05:23:00.000-07:00

Hey everyone,

I just added a new blog, called 3arabawy (don't pronounce the "3" please, it is standing in for a letter that we don't have in English). Pretty good, written by an Egyptian Marxist, mostly in English. Finally, some different thinking. There is a good photographic essay about the Mahalla Intifada, the April 6th, 2008, uprising which started in the burb of Mahalla (close to Alex) and touched of a general strike across the country for higher wages... check it out here.

Also recently here in Alexandria, a bunch of Muslim Brotherhood folks were arrested after Egypt claimed that Hezbollah was infiltrating Egypt and getting arms to Gaza through Egypt. Unfortunately, I can't follow the news so well, and no one I know talks about these things, so I am pretty much in the dark until everything is over. Damn.

The author of the 3arabawy blog, Hossam Al-Hamalawy, also says that recently a lot of activists and citizens have been thrown out of their fourth floor residences by police officers. I live on the fourth floor. Shit.

Two bad words in one blog.

Sri Lanka, déjà vu...

2009-05-26T05:28:00.000-07:00

Since before the "victory" over the Tigers in Sri Lanka, I've been feeling constantly nauseated with the amount of pro-military propaganda that is being spread all over the world. People who talked about peace before decided to throw all that talk away and salute the Sri Lankan flag and bend over to the Sri Lankan military.

But we all know that in times of crises, people act strange and usually are overcome by the desire to find a quick solution. I'm not going to get into an analysis of which side was right here. What I do find troubling is how Sri Lanka was able to ignore the demands of the UN (hypocritical though the UN may be) and simply continue blasting away. The government won, but at a huge human cost.

Of course, Obama afterwards sent congratulations to Rajapakse and gang. It's a clear message that, "Shit, it was a little uncomfortable having all that blood on our hands, but good job! You did what we're trying to do!" I imagine that the US and others are preparing their speeches for Pakistan, lamenting the impending humanitarian catastrophe, but openly funding the war and secretly hoping that the Swat would just sink into the Earth.

What if Uribe decided to just blow up the entire southern third of Colombia? Or the world decided that piracy in Somalia was costing more to their economies that dropping a nuclear bomb on Puntland? Actually, it seems that now Somalia is asking for help to destroy Al-Shabaab, who is about to overtake the country. Doesn't it seem like Obama is "suddenly" running out of patience with North Korea? It just seems like we've headed down the wrong road, and that under the Bush-Obama presidency, the power of the sword will overcome the power of the pen.

Speaking of Obama's two-facedness, check out Carmen Andrea Rivera interviewing John Lindsay-Poland (yeah for people with three names!) about the fine-tuning of Plan Colombia on KPFA: http://www.kpfa.org/archive/id/51147 (starting at minute 15).

Close the SOA... in Arabic!

2009-05-09T04:44:00.000-07:00

Since someone said that my last three entries have been sort of childish, I'll write a more serious entry. This is a really bad upload (from a mobile phone... not mine, ok!) of my first presentation in Arabic... about the SOA! yeah!! The audience (5 people) was really interested and wanted to know more... maybe it's time to start translating the SOAW website into Arabic! ;)

Try to listen for the words "imperialism" (لأمبريالية) and "dictatorships" (الدكتاتوريات). hehe.

Earth First, Uranus Second

2009-05-07T02:39:00.000-07:00

At the risk of sounding like an immature middle-schooler, I just wanted to copy the sign that is in the bathroom here at the Arabic Center. It's a sign about tips to protect the environment. Unfortunately, it has a picture of a roll of toilet paper and on the roll is written, "Keep the Earth Clean! It's Not Uranus!"

Haha. That's funny. I wonder if they know the meaning. Some cheeky student here must have made it.

It's also in the men's bathroom, which I was told to use from now on after I accidentally used the women's bathroom.

My Name!!!

2009-05-04T06:26:00.000-07:00

Wow. I have just had the laugh of my life. I always wondered why no one would either say my name "Nico" or find it difficult to pronounce it. People always said "Nicol" or even try "Nuukulus" (as my teacher says). And I always enunciate "N-I-C-O". Even "Niku" people didn't say.

So the other day I was getting a drink of cane juice when I started up a conversation with the sugar-cane man (a close cousin of Willy Wonka). He asked me what my name was and I told him "Nico". He stared at me a little oddly and asked again. I repeated and he laughed out loud. Confused, I resumed my drinking. He leaned over and asked me if I knew what "nico" meant in Egypt. I said no, and and winked at me and did a sort of vulgar thrusting motion with his pelvis from behind the counter. I wasn't sure what he meant or what he wanted, so I laughed, quickly finished my drink, and left, leaving him still laughing from inside the store.

Just now, a male teacher walked in and started talking to me. I wrote my name on the board, in English, and he added "las" to the end and said I shouldn't call myself Nico. Why? Because apparently in Egypt, he whispered, "Nico is a vulgar word for coupling between a man and a woman."

Ha!! And they thought only Arabic names have meaning! Fantastic.

Egypt's Pig Broblem

2009-05-03T04:27:00.000-07:00

The title of this entry has a three-fold purpose: 1) to make fun of Arab-speakers who can't say "P", 2) to call attention to the international "pig flu" epidemic and 3) also make fun of this South Asian kid who I went to university with who turned red when I caught him chatting on AOL under the screen name "Pig Benis". Ha ha, dumbass. (Okay, that South Asian kid WASN'T me, though I DID think it was a great pseudonym.)

So, really, I just wanted to talk about #2. And not a lot really, because I haven't had time to research anything or do much reading for that matter, as I am up to my nose in Arabic children's book ("Sindibad, Sindibad!"). Egypt is trying to slaughter all these poor piggies that hang out in the Cairo landfills under the excuse that they might infect humans. Of course, if they had any brains, they would know that apparently the so-called "Mexican swine flue" doesn't mean that pigs necessarily transmit the disease. (I'm also waiting for one day a bad disease or scourge to be called "American" or "European"). But the Egyptian authorities are slaughtering all these animals that mainly belong to Christian Copts (because Muslims don't like pigs. They HATE it when I talk about delicious Spanish jamón serrano).

Well, the people are rioting in Cairo (yeah for riots!) because they aren't being paid enough for their animals being killed. And I don't think they are killing the animals because they belong to a religious minority, such as the Copts. I am trying to invoke the spirit of Naomi Klein's Shock Doctrine here... Egypt is saying that allowing the pigs to hang out in the landfills is a problem and they need to be put in better, more modern farms. Sound like Sri Lanka's post-tsunami land grab? Or all those other I-did-it-for-such-and-such-reason-but-I-really-want-this type scenarios?

Hmm, I guess we will have to stay tuned. Maybe somewhere in Cairo, some rich Copt has the plan to monopolize pig farming and is already building some industrial pig farm. Which, by the way (and I refer to industrialization of animal farming), is possibly a reason that this outbreak started in the first place (talking NAFTA v. Mexican small farmers).

Ok, what a tangent. Need to get back to my books. Lots of love, PB.

الإسكندية

2009-04-27T05:37:00.000-07:00

Not much happening out here. Studying Arabic. Feeling frustrated. Fighting amoebas, but at least no flu yet. Eating fuul (beans) sandwiches and falafel. Walking along the beach. Has been an intense first week in Alexandria, trying to settle in...

Cairo graffitti

2009-04-10T06:45:00.000-07:00

I'll add to this picture a little part of text - by MLK Jr. - which we read from last night's seder meal (my first!).

"We have moved into the era where we are called upon to raise certain basic questions about the whole society. We are still called upon to give aid to the beggar who finds himself in misery and agony on life's highway. But one day, we must ask the question of whether an edifice which produces beggars must not be restructured and refurbished."

April 6th Movement in Egypt

2009-04-07T01:01:00.001-07:00

Yesterday, as we were coming back from seeing the Pyramids of Giza, something opened my sleepy eyes as we passed the University of Cairo. Literally hundreds of police in riot gear guarded the entrance to the University and the main plaza in front of it. I told Natty to get up and we pushed our way out the crowded bus, the bus driver being so kind as to let us off in the middle of traffic (thanks, jackass).

I asked around in my English and broken Arabic (I can now count to 10 and read the letters!) about what was going on. Something about a protest for higher wages... alright!! But we waited around for about an hour, nothing happened, and Natty was complaining that she was bored. So we left...

But I was snooping around the internet this morning (hurriedly, as we are bouncing to Alexandria now) and found out that it was a huge movement called the April 6th movement. It takes this name from the pro-democracy, anti-corruption and higher wage protests held last year on the same date, which led to riots in some parts of Egypt. So yesterday was supposed to be a national strike. But because of the heavy police presence and "preventive" arrests made a few days earlier, only a few hundred people turned out around the country.

It seems like a lot of opposition groups, including the Muslim Brotherhood, backed the protests, so perhaps it may lead to a stronger unified movement in the future. It seems that they are also trying to prevent Mubarak's son, Gamal (which I swore meant "camel" in Arabic), from taking over power. I hope to find out more. I talked to one young furniture salesman on the street who summed up everything in a few words: "In Egypt, you don't say anything."

Also, in sad sexual liberation news, a swinger couple was arrested and sentenced to 5-7 years for their "indecent" acts. I should watch out. ;)

Pa'que Gocen

2009-04-04T23:05:00.000-07:00

Ayer regresamos de Siwa, un oasis a 12 horas en carro desde El Cairo, en medio del Gran Mar de Arena (nada que ver con el partido político de El Salvador). Las dunas eran como en las películas, imensas y arenosas. Aquí pongo un video de mi intento de hacer "sandboarding". Masalemah (chao!).

How to Be (A Thinking Person and Keep Creative in the Recession Era)

2009-03-28T15:10:00.000-07:00

In the spirit of culture and art as resistance, my very radical and awesome friend, Mia Kang - writing from the cockroach-infested depths of Kosciusko Street in Bushwick - allowed me to share this with all of you.

"How to Be (A Thinking Person and Keep Creative in the Recession Era)"
by Mia Kang

1.

The layered city peels back your skin,
peers behind your eyeballs and sticks
a finger into the gray matter. There’s no need
to hallucinate, not in this circus scene.

Even though the storefronts
are little bubbling amoebas, pulling themselves
along the ground by extension and contraction,
I can tell about the things that came before.

We stand around a simmering cauldron, black iron belly,
dipping our spoons in and out to give it a stir. They fear me
because of what I won’t explain. When I ask you a question,
you answer because you ask questions.

2.

Michael cut off his hair on his fifty-second birthday.
The talk of the town,
panic.

Drama begets drama:
Obama, etc.
Diversion.

Wall, wall, wall.
Chasm, chasm,
cliff.

3.

A group of us are meeting weekly
in a chatroom marked Welcome!

4.

Like I said, all I have to do is snap
my fingers and it appears. You say other
but I know mother. The so-called alternative,
seeing things only in comparison.

Instead, the colors are a constant. The melody
is rooted by a rhythm, the dancer
is suspended in her own height.
In her own right.

Our myths mottle the air, tentatively visible in the subtle
sunlight on the cusp of a new season.

"Let Me Chew My Coca Leaves"

2009-03-28T02:30:00.000-07:00

Following up on the Global Forum of Producers of Crops Declared Illicit (a mouthful) held in January in Barcelona, I wanted to give you all some info about the recent UNGASS' (UN General Assembly Special Session) meeting on Narcotics, which happens roughly every 10 years (this year, March 11-14). The last time in 1999, we were at the beginning of Plan Colombia, and now in 2009, we are at the beginning of Plan Mexico. The first one failed, and the new one will, too, at the cost of thousands more lives (interestingly, both President Uribe y Calderón have used the campaign slogan "Mano Dura" - Firm Hand). Here's a good blog about Mexico.

President Morales of Bolivia, an Aymara indigenous and long-time defender of coca leaf producers, made a great speech to the UN on March 15th, where he talked about the need to reverse the 1961 decision made by the UN's Single Convention on Narcotic Drugs to place the coca leaf in the same category as cocaine. He talked about the medicinal, cultural and alimentary uses of the coca leaf. (I don't know... the first time I tried coca was from a smart-ass Kankuamo indigenous in Colombia, who laughed when I got dizzy and threw up all the buffalo meat I had eaten that morning. He said it was because I had bad thoughts. Haha! Actually, I think I threw up not because of the coca leaf, but because I ingested the bitter ambira, a tobacco tar-like substance that the Sierra Nevada indigenous use with their coca.)

Read Morales' NYTimes Op-Ed here. Información en español aquí.

Also, from Transnational Institute (TNI), you can get some more detailed analysis. TNI had a representative at the Barcelona Producers' Forum, and along with two farmer representatives, gave a statement at the UNGASS meeting.

Also, Andrew Willis Garcés has posted some on-the-ground documentation of Plan Colombia on his blog. Good stuff.

I'll keep you updated on things in Egypt and things out here when I get past saying "thank you" and "dog" in Arabic.

Welcome to the Police State

2009-03-23T15:38:00.000-07:00

Well, I made it into Egypt! New lands, new hands.

So I'll just write a few impressions of my first day, of which I spent nearly 7 hours just walking around downtown. Visited the museum, nice hieroglyphs, impressive mummies, ornate gilded jewelry... all very interesting.

But the most interesting of all is the 28-year old state of martial law that has been in existence here in Egypt. After Anwar Sadat was assassinated presumably for his acceptance of Israel's right to exist, Hosni Mubarak took control and imposed martial law, which has conveniently been renewed every 5 years or so (the last time being last year, renewed for a period of 2 years). With almost US$1.3 billion in military aid and over $400 million in "economic assistance", the United States is the principal backer of the Mubarak regime. So when US taxpayers aren't paying for million-dollar corporate-exec bonuses, we are funding a measly salary to the thousands of police minions that roam the streets (at least in Cairo). I think on every block I have seen at least one policeman standing behind a palm tree or catching an afternoon nap in their blue police vans. And occassionally, you get the pleasure of sighting some of those mean-looking guys, in their uncomfortably hot leather jackets (haha!) and Latin-American-death-squad-style sunglasses.

I am staying with a friend in the upper-class el Maadi district of Cairo. Almost everyone in the building works for USAID or directly with the Embassy. I noticed this morning three guys in suits just hanging out in the middle of the street, and they all stared at me as I left. Apparently, they are out here frequently, making sure the USAID people aren't double agents. Sketchy...

For normal Egyptians, the repression is a little more tangible. The Egyptian police are known for their tortures and jailings without charges; many victims have remained in prision for over a decade without being charged. There are still people in prision who bravely protested the Egyptian government's brazenly pro-Israeli stance during the 2008-09 invasion of Gaza. Read HRW's 2008 report here. I remember when Mubarak visited GW and was given an honorary degree in something by our union-busting university president, Stephen Tractenberg. It was all pomp and circumstance. It's always interesting to see who is given the title "dictator", and who isn't.

Anyways, on the right side of this blog, you'll see a link to a blog called "Tabula Gaza". I linked to that because it had good info during the recent Israeli invasion of the Strip. Well, the writer is a German-Egyptian activist who led one of the protests in Egypt against the invasion. A few days after the protest, he was bundled into a van of the secret police and held in an unknown place for 4 days. So, maybe I shouldn't wear my kuffiya just yet...

In some nice news, I met an Egyptian man with his US-born infant and his Mexican-American Islamic-convert wife from Brownsville, Texas, in the street today. Que interesante. It was nice to talk Spanish in Cairo.

Analysis of current Egypt-Palestine-Israel situation: here.

In Other News...

2009-03-21T03:04:00.000-07:00

While the cops in Barcelona are really asking for it (one day, we'll get them... start plotting now, people!), halfway across the world, some (hopefully) fresh air is blowing through America Latina. It's old news that Funes and the FMLN won in El Salvador, but I wanted to put some some links to some work that some of you have done over there.

Our very own Carmen Andrea Rivera and Eva Lewis did some pre-election analysis for radio station KPFA's La Raza Chronicles: http://www.kpfa.org/archive/id/49053

Also, Joe DeRaymond wrote up a piece, post-election: http://www.lvindependent.org/_mgxroot/page_10871.html

March 24th marks the 29th anniversary of Archbishop Oscar Romero's death. Hopefully his death would not have been in vain.

Desde Dar-el-Beida, drinking my mint tea and dreaming of wine... El Guevon.

P.S.: I cracked my first "joke" in Arabic last night! Well, it wasn't funny, but this old lady laughed. Progress! I'm excited to start my new stand-up routine.

Tombos malparidos... UB evicted

2009-03-18T08:04:00.001-07:00

Miren el video aqui sobre el desalojo de los estudiantes companyeros en Barcelona que llevaban meses ocupando el rectorado de la universidad en protesta de una propuesta de la Union Europea (Plan Bolonya) que busca privatizar y "modernizar" la educacion superior. http://blip.tv/file/1891138

Check out this video of the eviction of Barcelona students who had occupied the University administration for months now in protest of a European Union proposal to privatize and "streamline" higher education. http://blip.tv/file/1891138

A las calles!

More info: http://www.laccent.cat/
http://estudiantsenlluita.blogspot.com/

Also, the Mossos detained the Catalan Robin Hood ("Robin dels Bancs"), who last year scammed a bunch of banks into lending him money which he gave to different social groups. Read about the detention here (spanish).

Rubber Duckie

2009-03-18T07:44:00.000-07:00

So I can't understand most things here (ok, nothing really), but I like to just sit around and watch people interact. Contrary to the images we see and hear across the Atlantic (and well, from this crazy English woman in Fès), people don't seem to go around stabbing foreigners and blowing themselves up. Maybe all the hashish up here makes people relax. I'm in Chefchaouen, in the Moroccan Rif, probably the world's biggest producer region of hashish. I'm not able to talk to anyone, let alone read about anything, so maybe another day I'll fill you in on academic/political stuff. (NEW UPDATE: found some interesting information from the Rif, about a political activist who has been in prison for 4 weeks in Casablanca for denouncing the government's repressive measures against peasants in marijuana-producing regions like the Rif. Read HRW's March 19th communiqué.)

So I'll just write this:

I was in a little restaurant having my lunch before afternoon prayers, and I was finally able to watch some TV in Arabic. Actually, I had seen the Barcelona-Almeria soccer match a few days back, and was amused to hear people yelling "Messi!" every time the master wove the ball near the net. But this time, I was watching some sort of MTV-type station, where everything is unnecessarily in soft-focus. This one video had a pregnant lady measuring her growing belly as she sang. She definitely had a Michael Jackson-style nose job - way too small. And the sexiest part was at the end, when she is laying on her side, her slender arms caressing her voluptuous hips and tight belly; she has something yellow in her hand... what is it? A flower? Maybe soap? No... she so sensually places a bright yellow Rubber Duckie (el patito de goma, hecho famoso por Epi) on her hip, and the song ends... classic.

I'm off to Casablanca tomorrow, and then finally... eastward bound. In sháa alláah.

Entrevista con un Okupa

2009-03-14T07:33:00.000-07:00

FOR ENGLISH VERSION, CLICK HERE.

Gracies a un company pel seu testimoni sobre les okupes.

1. Todos los días escuchamos noticias sobre el aumento de paro en el estado español, y sobre la crisis de vivienda. Cúal es tu entendimiento sobre estos hechos? A qué se deben?

Como es sabido, la dichosa crisis global, afecta de maneras distintas a unos países que a otros.

Durante sobretodo la última década, el estado español había centrado gran parte de su economía en la construcción de pisos y la especulación immobiliaria derivada de ello. A pesar de haber desenas de millares de casas vacías se seguían construyendo de nuevas para favorecer a constructoras e inmobiliarias. Estas empresas compraban las viviendas, haciendas,... esperando simplemente que subieran su precio para volverlas a vender generando todo un capital derivado de esto que llamamos especulación. A las Alcadías y Ayuntamientos ya les venía bien por los impuestos e regalías que cobraban de las construcciones.

El aumento continuado de los pisos ha obligado a mucha gente a endeudarse y a recurrir a las hipotecas.

Ha llegado un punto pero que la gente ya no tiene dinero para comprar pisos nuevos. Hay muchísmas casas nuevas que no han encontrado comprador, llevando a la bancarrota a algunas pequeñas empresas y a muchísimos trabajadores de la construcción en la calle. Muchas personas no han podido pagar las hipotecas, y los bancos se han encontrado que embargar unas casas que no pueden revender no les sale a cuenta.

Esto, unido a la tendencia de muchas empresas transnacionales y multinacionales de abandonar a países como España para irse en otros países con una mano de obra más barata, menos medidas medioambientales, peores condiciones de vida para los trabajadores,... ha hecho que el paro en lo que va de año práctiamente se haya duplicado.

Pero bueno, para muchos de nosotros este hecho no nos parece tan grave. La gente estaba acostumbrada a un ritmo de consumo altísimo que ahora se tendrá que parar. Los estados se veran obligados a aumentar las medidas represivas, cosa que esperemos desemboque en una contestación social mayor. Y es que para los que nos oponemos frontalmente al sistema estatal-capitalista, esta crisis es una nueva oportunidad. Entendiendo que para el sistema le será más difícil de salir de esta crisis que de las otras, por que lleva implícitas muchas otras crisis (como son la energética, la medioamibental o la de valores para poner solo algun ejemplo) que antes no estaban tan agudizadas.

2. Tu participas en un "okupa". Puedes explicarnos un poco la historia del movimiento okupa en España. Cómo surge? Qué propone?

Muchos de nosotros no hablamos de movimiento okupa por entender que por el momento no hay una artículación suficiente como para llamarle tal. Pero si que consideramos que hay muchísimas luchas heterogeneas interelacionadas con la okupación.

En el estado español, las primeras okupaciones políticas que se hicieron fueron por la periferia barcelonina alrededor del año ’87. Salió sobretodo de un puñado de gente que provenía del ámplio sector contracultural ligado también a las luchas antimilitaristas y por la insumisión al servicio militar obligatorio que estaban empezando a emerger con una cierta fuerza. La imposiblidad de acceder económicamente a unos pisos con precios prohibitivos, unidos a la voluntad de unir un discurso agresivo propio del punk de los ’80 con una cierta pràctica empujaron a la primera gente a optar por la okupación no solo como un fin para dar salida a la necesidad de una vivienda, sino también como un medio de contestación y de cambio. Sin lugar a dudas, las prácticas similares que se habían dado anteriormente en holanda, inglaterra o italia fueron una influencia directa de nuestros antecesores.

Pero no fue hasta el año 96’, y curiosamente a raíz de la conversión de la okupación en delito, que las casas okupadas no tuvieron una presencia con cierta importancia, hasta llegar a la actualidad con más de 200 casas okupadas en Barcelona. O más de 10 en una ciudad como la mía, de unos 70.000 habitantes.

Sobre la propuestas que se realizan des de las luchas por la okupación es un tanto complicado hablar debido a la hetereogenidad de las mismas. Hay algunos sectores más reformistas que piden al estado mas casas de protección oficial, un impuesto sobre las casas vacías, la legalización de la okupación. Y hay otros sectores que no quieren nada del estado, por que entienden que es su enemigo y la única dialéctica que se puede mantener con él és para destruirlo. Estos grupos son los que a mi entender generan espacios de contrapoder y que buscan prácticas más confrontativas. El que si és común en la mayoría de casos es un funcionamiento que intenta ser lo más horizontal posible, con una intencionalidad de crear otra forma de relaciones al margen de lo establecido. Yo diría que más que una propuesta teórica, en muchos casos, desde las okupaciones lo que se hace es una propuesta pràctica, una propuesta de una forma de vida.

3. Cómo se inicia una "okupa"? Cúal es el proceso típico que lleva una ocupación?

Normalmente la gente que le apetece okupar empieza por una reunión para hablar en términos generales que es lo que se propone hacer en la nueva casa. Si simplemente va a servir como vivienda o también se va a utilizar como Centro Social. A partir de aquí se buscan casas vacías que cumplan los requisitos estructurales de los interesados y se mira en el registro de la propiedad quién es el/la propietario del immueble. Habitualmente las casas que se okupan son propiedad de grandes empresas.

Posteriormente, y después de haber buscado asesoramiento legal (no olvidemos que okupar en España es un delito) se suele llevar a cabo la okupación, normalmente de dos formas distintas. Una seria por la noche, con la voluntad de que se tarden unos días en conocer la existencia de la okupación por parte de la propiedad y por lo tanto dificultar su capacidad de reacción. O la otra mediante una convocatoria previa con la participación de un ámplio número de personas, para dificultar si fuera el caso una respuesta de la policia.

Una vez entrado en la casa es cuando se asegura todo lo posible para dificultar los desalojos y las posibles agresiones de matones a suelo o de grupos de extrema derecha. Y se empiezan todas las reformas hasta su apertura.

4. Siempre existe la eventualidad de un desalojo por parte de la fuerza pública? Cómo afrontan esta situación? Qué medidas hay - si las hay - para evitar o postergar un desalojo?

Legalmente no siempre se tendría que vivir con la eventualidad de un desalojo, siempre y cunado la propiedad no sea pública. Si la propiedad que se okupa es privada, después de las primeras 48 horas lo único que podrían hacer legalmente es presentar una denúncia por usurpación. Lo que duran las okupaciones suele ser el tiempo que transcurre con todo el proceso jurídico, que en algunos casos ha sido tan solo de algunos días y en muchos otros de algunos años. La casa que lleva más tiempo por ahora es La Kasa de la Muntanya” en Barcelona, que vive des del ’89.

Obviamente cuando ha transcurrido todo el proceso judicial siempre se termina por perderlo, puesto que lo único que se juzga es quien tiene el título de la propiedad. A partir de allí el juez te pone una fecha a partir de la cúal podrán proceder al desalojo.

Pero todas sabemos que el estado es el primero en saltarse la legalidad cuando le apetece. En muchos casos se han producido desalojos sin orden judicial alguna, por que simplemente molestaban. Y últimamente se está repitiendo una pràctica un tanto preocupante: las propiedades prefieren pagar a matones a sueldo que van a las casas a agredir e intimidar a la gente, por que les sale más a cuenta que costear todo un proceso judicial.

Por lo que se refiere a las estrategias de resistencia a los desalojos han sido multiples. Generalmente el mismo dia en que se pone una fecha para el desalojo se realiza una concentración para intentar postergarlo. Hay gente que se ha colgado des de sitios altos de la casa, para intentar retardarlo; otros han puesto una especie de tripodes en las calles circundantes para imposibilitar el paso de las lecheras (furgonetas antidisturbios); otros han excavado pequeños túneles y se han ocultado allí a bajo encadenados a estructuras solidas; otros más han optado por abandonar la casa dejando “pequeños regalos” para la policia al estilo “solo en casa”; hay quién siempre prefiere el recurso de los disturbios y la confrontación directa; hay quién apuesta por las acciones simbólicas, como el descuelgue de pancartas desde sitios muy altos, el intercambio ( ya mítico) que se hizo hace algunos años de la bandera española del ayuntamento de barcelona por una bandera negra con el símbolo okupa o la okupación temporal de sitios turísticos como han podido ser la Pedrera de Gaudí...

En definitiva, que a pesar de que últimamente parece que falta un poco de originalidad siempre van saliendo cosas nuevas que probar.

5. Descríbenos la vida cotidiana en un "okupa". Tienen agua y luz? Realizan actividades con la comunidad?

Normalmente el agua y la luz de las okupciones están recuperadas del fluido eléctrico y de la corriente de agua.

La vida en el caso de las okupaciones de viviendas suele ser bastante igual que las demás casas, con posiblemente una mayor socialización y tal vez con un poquito más de trabajo para ir reconstruyendo poquito a poco el edificio.

La okupaciones de los centros sociales, tal y como he dicho, son muy distintas las unas de las otras. Normalmente se suelen hacer muchas charlas sobre distintas temáticas de interés (liberación animal, anarquismo, luchas sociales, países en conflicto, anti-patriarcal,...), algunos conciertos para la financiación de los proyectos que se llevan a cabo, comidas o cenas,...

Algunas distribuyen materiales de contra-información. Otras sirven de punto de encuentro des del que realizar acciones en la calle...

En definitiva, cada caso es un mundo.

A pesar de que se intenta llevar a cabo una múltiple variedad de actividades que puedan interesar a la comunidad, no siempre es facil crear una red de participación y vinculación con los proyectos.

6. Mucha gente dice que la gente que "okupa" no más lo hace para "vivir gratis" y que "nada en este mundo es gratis"; o sea, que ustedes son ingenuos...

En primer lugar, muchos de nosostros consideramos el hecho de intentar vivir con lo menos posible como una necesidad real, para no seguir engrasando la maquinaria de la autodestrucción capitalista que está acabando con el planeta y con un montón de gente y realidades. Este sistema se basa en dos elementos claves: la producción y el consumo.

Sabiendo esto intentamos producir lo menos posible en los trabajos asalariados, por entenderlos como una forma de esclavaje, de dominación. Y también intentamos consumir poco, adquiriendo dinámicas como el reciclage, la auto-invención o incluso la expropiación cuando lo consideramos necesario.

En definitiva nos oponemos a una vida pre-establecida, a pagar una hipoteca de quarenta años que nos mantenga ligados al trabajo asalariado para poder vivir una vida de lujos inalcazable.

Para mi el ingenuo no es quién decide cada dia lo que le apetece hacer, tiene sus estructuras de producción al margen del poder como pueden ser las huertas o las pequeñas cooperativas. Para mi el ingenuo es quien se pasa cada dia 8 horas (o más) trabajando para poder comprarse un piso bonito, un par de coches y la tele con pantalla plana.

Esto no quiere decir que nos pasemos el tiempo tumbados en la cama (que a veces también). Simplemente dedicamos más tiempo a hacer lo que nos apetece, a encontrarnos con nuestros pares, a conspirar contra el poder, a cultivar nuevas relaciones. Y normalmente tampoco paramos demasiado, puesto que hay mil proyectos con los que nos sentimos implicados.

Con el hecho de okupar, no sentimos que estemos usurpando una propiedad. Simplemente sentimos que estamos recuperando algo que nos pertenece, llenando espacios vacíos de vida.

7. Con la crisis, los que suelen llevar el bulto son los inmigrantes y los trabajadores... y por ende suelen ser los primeros que hallen difícil pagar sus alquileres, por ejemplo. Cómo puede el movimiento okupa incorporar a estos grupos?

En primer lugar, decir que muchos de nosotros no nos sentimos con la intención de incorporar dichos grupos a nuestras prácticas. No somos troskistas que nos infiltremos en determinados espacios para conseguir nuestros objetivos.

Consideramos que si hay encuentros con estos sectores se deben dar por una necesidad real creada a partir de intereses recíprocos, que en cierta forma ya se están dando de forma intermitente.

Las mobilizaciones contra la nueva agresión Israelí en palestina han sido un buen ejemplo de coordinación entre grupos de immigrantes y gente implicada en la okupación.

Con los trabajadores ha habido últimamente algunos enlaces puntuales en la lucha por ejemplo que llevaron a cabo los autobuseros en barcelona hace un año. Y es que muchas veces solo participamos de aquellas mobilizaciones que no buscan defender meramente un determinado puesto de trabajo, sino que buscan algo más. Entonces muchos de nosotros estamos allí para dar apoyo y tal vez, para intentar radicalizar un poquito la cosa.

Lo que se está dando últimamente es que debido a las necesidades mucha gente que, para que nos entendamos, no es muy politizada, ha debido recurrir a la okupación para dar una salida a su problema de la vivienda. A pesar de que no se quieran implicar en unas estructuras de coordinación mínimas como las que hay entre las okupaciones de índole política, también ha habido ocasiones que se ha podido dar un apoyo a estos sectores cuando tenían que hacer frente a los desalojos.

8. En los Estados Unidos, estamos viendo una situación parecida, en términos de constantes desalojos, morosidad hipotecária... Qué ideas puede aportar el movimiento okupa en el estado español a la situación estadounidense?

La verdad es que no me siento demasiado capacitado para hablar, por que no tengo suficientes conocimientos de cómo está la situación actual en los EUA.

Pero estoy seguro que algo se podría aprender de las luchas por la okupación del estado español, cómo yo siento que muchos de nosotros estamos aprendiendo de las luchas por la liberación animal y de la tierra que se están llevando a cabo en los EUA.

Tal vez creo que lo que le faltan un poquito a las luchas de EUA és la necesidad de romper definitivamente tan a nivel discursivo como práctico con el estado. Creo que hay una tendencia ciudadanista bastante generalizada. Se le ruegan cosas al estado esperando que las cumpla, reconociendo de este modo a su autoridad.

Creo que a nivel Europeo, y de forma aún más acentuada en Italia o en Grecia, hay una línea llamada insurreccionalista que aportaría tal vez aires nuevos a las luchas estadounidenses.

Fès...

2009-03-13T12:37:00.000-07:00

Ey chicos, llegué a Fès... sano y salvo. Ya cuando tenga oportunidad, escribiré más. Por ahora sepan que mi conductor de taxi desde el aeropuerto hasta Fès el-Badi (la parte vieja, donde está la medina), el hermano del anfitrión donde me quedo, el hijo del anfitrión y un vendedor de garbanzos todos se llaman Mohammed.
Me hace falta la truita de patatas... broma.
La medina es una verdadera locura... y yo pensaba que el Raval de Barcelona era un enigma... 'jueputa, entre las calles sinuosas y todos los Mohammed, estoy perdido. Pero estoy requetebien.
Pasé por las mezquitas (jamaâ) hoy, viernes. A las 12:30, se estremece el barrio con el trueno de "Allahou akbar!" y miles de personas salen de sus casas, sus tiendas, su cotidianidad y se llenan las mezquitas. Los hombres por una puerta, las mujeres por otra (pero parece que los hombres también pueden colarse por al puerta "feminina").
Estoy contento, caminando, descubriendo. Qui sap què trobaré... però em sento bé.
Para todos en Barcelona, un beso grande y gracias por todo el amor y rumba. Ya nos veremos otro día.
Para todos mis amigos angloparlantes... aguanten, malparidos.

Adios, Barça!

2009-03-02T15:02:00.000-08:00

No thanks to those silly things called “borders” and “nation-states” (ugh), I’ll have to leave Spain and the rest of the European Union in a few weeks. Take note fellow European Union- travelers: you only get three months in the entire European Union, not three months per country. I’ve found out the hard way, and I guess I won’t be tending organic Greek sheep anytime soon. Well, at least I have come to really love Spain, especially Barcelona.

I wouldn’t recommend coming here for the food, however. Apparently, Spanish food is all the rave in many parts of the world. DC’s once-Chinese Chinatown now boasts a really expensive tapas bar. If you are at all hip, you should know what “patatas bravas” are... and how much they resemble thick-cut french-fries with some hot sauce and mayonnaise. Where the hell is the good food here?! It must be somewhere outside of Catalunya, because the potato omelette and the "pa amb tomàquet" (basically bread wetted down with tomato and drowned in olive oil) hasn’t been exactly a gastronomical feast. Catalans proudly boast that the pa amb tomàquet is a native dish. Wow. If you want independence, you should at least have good food, like curry or even hamburgers. Well, I guess they have good hams.

However, I went to a calçotada (pronounced “cal-su-tah-dah”; see pictures!) this past weekend. This is a very curious Catalan tradition where everyone gathers around a table, usually outdoors, and eats grilled green onions, called calçots (pronounced "cal-sots"; I felt bad telling everyone that they were really just eating onions - one’s sarcasm can only go so far) with this amazing sauce (made of hazelnuts, almonds, tomatoes, nyora - a Spanish red pepper, and other ingredients... here’s a nice recipe). It actually was delicious! And of course, they grill up some meat, and lots of wine to go around. By 4 o’clock, I was the drunken Takeru Kobayashi of calçots. I would come back to Barcelona just to eat calçots. By the way, calçotades (that “e” there is for catalan plurals) only happen around this time of the year, then people get bored of them.

(This is one picture of a guy eating calçots. You should really appreciate the picture not for the way he aptly demonstrates his ability to eat calçots but rather for his impressive Spanish mullet.)

Also, I must say that I have really come to love the Catalán language. I was talking to the mom of my friend (who hosted the calçotada) in Catalán with a few “hijuepuchas” and “malparidos” peppered in there. Once you get to actually study the language, you realize that it is more than a truncated Spanish... it has a lot more complexities and it is rather pretty. I like it! If anyone wants a Catalan language learning CD, just let me know.

Other than that, I have been just enjoying the beach, the people, my bike, books. I recently visited the national cemetery here and visited Durruti’s grave, which was just a grave. He’s not even buried there. I wonder if he liked calçots. Viva la anarquia!

So in a few weeks, I will be leaving Barça (sniff, sniff) and heading down south through Morocco and off to Egypt. If anyone has any friends out there who might give me a place to stay, I would like to be their friend, too... hehehe.

Un petó per a tothom!

Neck Face Spain

2009-02-28T15:36:00.000-08:00

This question is for Sean, if you still are out there, hermano... ps, what happened to your blog? ya no escribes!

You know a little about NYC graffitti... When I was out there, I used to see "Neck Face" written all over EVERYTHING. What do you think of this graffitti, from some boring Barcelona street? Is there a Neck Face clone? "Spain" is written in English... weird.

Keny Arkana - La Rage

2009-02-25T14:03:00.000-08:00

Great song and video, whoever added the part about greatest female rapper in France is kind of dumb though...

An Article about the Sri Lankan War... and other updates

2009-02-10T03:14:00.000-08:00

Here is an article from the Nation that Natty passed on to me:
http://www.thenation.com/doc/20090223/raychaudhuri

It's hard to find some good analysis about what is happening in northern Sri Lanka nowadays. It's almost similar to what is happening in Colombia and Palestine, with obvious geographic and political limits. It's disgusting and outrageous what is happening there.

Just to fill you in on what's been going on around here, other than dancing and biking. From January 28th to 31st, in El Prat de Llobregat (basically a suburb of Barcelona), the 1st Global Forum of Producers of Declared-Illicit Crops brought together some 40 growers of cannabis, coca leaf and poppy to discuss the global war on drugs and to establish a common position on these policies, along with some 20 representatives and experts. From March 11th to 12th in Vienna, heads of state will meet to evaluate the goals set at the previous UN's Special Session of the General Assembly on the Worldwide Drug Problem (1998), and to most likely recommend similar failed policies (attack the producer and continue the criminalization of narcotics use). For an analysis of the situation, see TNI's report here. I was an informal translator and participant. In the work sessions, the drug war was linked to the war on the poor; the medicinal, traditional and cultural uses of these plants were highlighted; and the discussion of true alternative development was debated. I'll put up a link to the conclusions when they are posted on CERAI's website. Until then, check out the pictures! Update: Obama's new Drug Czar brings mixed reviews.

Also, this past weekend, a group called SeminariTAIFA held an interesting seminar on the history and projection of the European Union. It was interesting to see through the rhetoric that the EU employs, and understand it to be another intent at creating a market, exploiting workers, damaging the environment and increasing poverty. One of the things that struck me was that I think in general, Europeans believe that they are so much nicer than Americans. They are only more subtle. Apart from the EU trying to copy the exact same US neoliberal model, there are other cases. For instance, in the US, when the army puts out ads calling on youth to join, the ads are typically Chuck Norris- or Rambo-fashion: painted faces, huge guns, flags, etc. (I guess there was one ad of the AirForce I believe where it looked like they were helping some black people in a flooded zone... was that really New Orleans? Those had to be actors!). We don't hide the fact that we don't mind killing anyone to get what we want. But here, in Spain for example, the ads portray a more "humanitarian" army: baby-holding, giving medicines, etc. Ugh... Europe needs to get its head out of its ass.

Anyways, that's the story from Lake Wobegone. I bummed a guitar off a friend, so now I can practice once again. And annoy everyone in the house.

PS: I don't think anyone reads this anyways. I feel sort of silly. Hmm... Well, I'll leave you all with this great video... é un mondo difficile!

"In Colombia, Every Week They Say That We Students Are Terrorists"

2009-02-01T12:21:00.000-08:00

This is my translation of an interview with David Flores, of the University Students Federation of Colombia. The interview was originally done by Anibal and Ana, on kaosenlared.net. Pueden encontrar la original aquí.

I have a cute anecdote about David. After a long night of partying, we decided to go to a friend's house here in Barcelona to continue the rumba. But unfortunately, Alex was too wasted and decided to start a conversation about Cuba and the revolution. It became a dialogue between Alex and Juan, and poor David, being a good student, tried to raise his hand to join the conversation. After literally hours of failing to break the dialogue, we finally heard from David... a nice nasally snore.

If anyone wants to know more about supporting the incredible work that David and other Colombian students are doing, you can contact me and I'll put you in touch with him. Or if you speak Dutch, you can visit www.colombianstudentswatch.eu.

_____________

Only 21-years old, David, a law student, has turned into a student leader, persecuted and threatened for defending a good public education and a negotiated solution to the armed conflict in Colombia, so that his fellow countrymen stop killing each other. For security purposes, he left Colombia in December and for two months now he has been conducting a tour through Europe to bring attention to the persecution of the student movement. This interview was done while he was in Barcelona, thanks to the International Peace Observatory.

Kaosenlared.net
By Anibal Garzón and Ana Basanta of the International Peace Observatory

1- For years now, you have been leading some student movements in Colombia. When did you start and what were your objectives?

I joined the student movement 5 years ago, since I have been in the university, specifically the National University of Colombia, in Bogotá. It is the largest university in Colombia, with some 40,000 students. I decided to join the student movement after seeing the policies and decisions of different governments towards education and who have slowly caused the level of education to drop in Colombia, and in particular in the University.

2- What are your complaints about education?

Let’s say that there has been an extensive process of privatization, but we should highlight some general policies. First, there has been a process of de-funding of Colombia’s public universities. There are universities who in this moment function with about 50% of their own resources, in other words, they are privatized by about 50%. There have been laws that led to a widespread de-funding process, the last of which - perhaps the most controversial -, is that from Article 38 of the Development Plan of Uribe’s second period of government. It forces national public universities to pay pension liabilities, in other words, to pay the debt that the Colombia State owes to the university workers. This debt, for example, in my university, is 3 billion pesos (about US$1.23 million), which equals about 3 years of my university’s operation, coming from its budget. Obviously, this will cause the university to slowly be without any resources, and will have to open up more and more to private business, and charging students more.

3- What problems are student movements having in defending your proposals?

There is a big problem because in Colombia one could say that there is a generalized climate of repression. With the significance of “Democratic Security” policy, this panorama has intensified - human rights violations have increased ostensibly. Obviously the student movement is not foreign to this reality but rather very affected by it, but perhaps with a particularity that may not be seen as human rights violations, like those suffered by trade-unionist and peasant organization. Due to the strength and mobilizing ability that the student movement has had in the last few years, threats have increased, as well as student and student leader exiles, both inside and outside the country. Many students have been forced to stop their studies, we have had many student leaders murdered... during the Álvaro Uribe’s government, there have been some 15 students murdered in different circumstances, and let’s say that in particular, 20008 has been very complicated for some students.

4- Where are these threats coming from?

The threats originate from what we have always defined as paramilitarism, who have been a constant in Colombia history and who have had different names: chulavitas, AUC (United Self-defense Forces of Colombia), now they call themselves Águilas Negras (Black Eagles)... but let’s say that it is a constant strategy of those who have historically been in power in Colombia. Although these threats come principally from the paramilitaries, there is an aggravating factor which is the current persecution with a legal make-up against students.

5- And how are the threats made? Are they telephone calls, threats in the street, letter...?

Basically, they are stages. The first is through email to student bodies or to personal emails; later they approach the families of the threatened people to demonstrate that they mean it and that they are capable of hurting student activists. Finally, according the region of the country in which you are, they kill you or disappear you.

6- Have you suffered one of these threats?

Yes, in particular, 2008 for me has been really complicated, especially in the second half of the year. Since September, when my student organization finished our second congress, up until November, we have received 7 threats, particularly against the organization that I belong to, but also against other student leaders, professors and university workers.

7- You came to Europe in the middle of December. Why did you leave Colombia and what is this tour that you are doing?

There are two fundamental objective. The first is personal protection because through different reports that we have developed in terms of human rights, we have been able to discern a pattern, a common element, which is that the majority of serious attacks against student leaders have occurred during vacations, in order to take advantage of the inability to organize, to respond. So it is very important in this period of vacations, to be away. But more than simply this, the idea is to be able to denounce what is happening in Colombia with students; we do not trying to the context. The idea is to be able to start up and build solidarity between the Colombian student movement and other student organizations from different countries, other human rights organizations, and in general with other people who are interested in extending their solidarity to students and the Colombian people.

8- How is the educational system in Colombia?

It’s a pretty precarious system. It’s important to note that Colombia still has a very high rate of illiteracy, around 14%. In indigenous and afro-colombian communities, sometimes it reaches 20%. There are very poor areas of Colombia, like Chocó and Nariño, where the rate can reach 30%. Secondly, it is the only country in Latinamerica where primary school is not absolutely free. Third, of the few people who are able to complete primary and secondary schooling, only 20% are able to enter higher education. And in higher schooling, it’s not just universities, but also low-quality technical schools. Now, the Colombian government has initiated a grand reform in statistic measurement, where of this 20%, there are those who enter a 2-month course to learn to serve cocktails or cut oil-palm trees. It really is very precarious education system, of a low-quality, and obviously with a small budget.

9- By defending these ideas in different arenas have you been labeled as sympathizing with the insurgency?

Yes, of course. Let’s say that it has been a tactic that this government has used, and it is a central pillar of “democratic security” to label any opposition as terrorist. And obviously this has been applied to the student movement, particularly dedicating a whole year to doing just that... that is why I said that this year has been different because each month, each week, there has been a news clip saying that the students are terrorists. There have been occasions in which ministers have said extremely serious things to the press. For example, Minister Arias, the Agricultural Minister, after a forum on oil palm said that “I will not return to the University because it is a nest of farianos (FARC rebels).” The Vice-president, following a university protest, said that the National University is Bogota’s Caguán, making it understood that it is a place where there is only Colombian insurgents. And the very same President has said on different occasions, not just about leaders but about the student movement in general: “they are terrorists dressed as civilians, they are anarchist terrorists, gangsters, delinquents...” The most serious part came after September, when the director of DAS, which is like the intelligence police that is directly controlled by the President, accused one organization in particular, the one I belong to. But it is worth noting that they have done this with other student, peasant and indigenous organizations... in different moments. And all this has made the outlook - in terms of legal actions and illegal actions against us - very dark for us

10- You are, or were, studying law.

I am studying law. It was pretty difficult for me to be able to complete the second semester of 2008. I had to cancel some course because having a routine makes you an easy target for attacks. It is important to say that mine isn’t the only case, but there are many student leader, who especially during the second semester of 2008, had to cancel their courses, leave the country... I could finish some classes, but it wasn’t my normal academic life.

11- When will you be able to return to Colombia to register and finish your degree?

Well, my idea is to return in February and be able to resume my studies, since there is only a little left to finish. We believe that despite the persecution and so many difficulties, it is important that student organizations do not disappear because we believe that the struggle for education in Colombia is not just for education, but also for a different country, a truly democratic one where there are at least minimal conditions to be able to live.

12- All of these policies that you have mentioned have a lot to do with the Uribe government? Do you believe that a change of government will heed your demands?

The Colombian student movement, I believe, has worked hard on understanding and problems, in other words, the student movement understands that the university problem isn’t just about the university but rather is part of general policies, which in this case, have materialized under President Álvaro Uribe Vélez. In this way, we are part of the Colombian opposition as a social movement against all the policies implemented by the national government. And we are not just in opposition, but also in construction of alternative proposals, because we understand that this would be a huge benefit in terms of university politics, and in general for all sectors of Colombia. We obviously try and will try to bring together a great social force to change the Colombian government.

13- You all are against mandatory military service. I imagine that it is due to a mix of losing years of studying and also for a moral question on the conflict.

In this moment, there is high level of polarization, creating the idea that he who does not join the army is a traitor, especially with Uribe’s politics. For us, it is important for several reasons. The first is an understanding about the Colombian conflict. When we say that we do not want mandatory military service, it is because we understand that through war the Colombian conflict will not be solved, and that the only way to solver it is through a large-scale national dialogue that brings a political solution to the structural problems that have allowed the Colombian conflict to exist.

Secondly, we understand that many Colombian youths go to war for two reasons: because it is the only economic possibility that they have, the only way to get a job since the Colombian army is the biggest business at the moment, even if you don’t agree with the army; and because if you don’t enter university before age 18 you obligatorily have to go. Those youth who cannot enter university are the victims of an unjust system where there is no employment; those who are in the Colombian jungles right now killing themselves with other Colombians, too. We believe that the war cannot continue, that we youth cannot continue perpetrating a conflict that has a social and political origin, and evidently, solving that socio-political problem will we solve the conflict.

14- What do you know about the process of Bologna in Europe and the protests of social movements against it?

It is very important because my university signed onto the Bologna Declaration at the end of the year. In other words, the Bologna model will start to be applied in Colombia. In Europe, the means of privatization are the same as in Colombia: concentration of power, attacking university autonomy, the matter of standardization of education, of new cycles (first 3 years, and then two)... in Colombia, in the beginning it wasn’t called the Bologna process, but now it is. So our intention has been to inform ourselves about this process in order to tell Colombian students that neoliberal rhetoric is the same as always, very clear lies: “it is good because it is used in Europe, European universities are the best, and if they have the Bologna model there, we should apply Bologna here.” So for us it is important to be able to reveal that this discussion isn’t true, that there is a big privatization scheme, a reduction of quality in European universities, in order to demonstrate that this will negatively affect Colombian universities.

El Momposino llegó a Barcelona

2009-02-01T09:55:00.000-08:00

Fue una semana de borrachera y belleza.

Palestine

2009-01-20T00:17:00.000-08:00

Artists from various parts of the world collaborated to make this song in solidarity with Palestine (see YouTube video below). Today, in Barcelona, a group of activists will try to deliver a letter to president-elect Obama at the US consulate. This action will be followed by a larger demonstration in the Plaça Sant Jaume.

That's all the news for now... Oh ps, we are trying to write up a little story about Clear Channel (the radio behemoth) for the Barcelona audience since the city's bike-sharing program, Bicing, is apparently owned by Clear Channel's international division. If anyone has any good contacts, please let me know. Thanks!

Also, don't forget to check out some of my new photos, from Palestine rallies to Barcelona's okupa movement.

Stop State Violence... From Greece and Gaza to Colombia and California

2009-01-07T01:29:00.000-08:00

I'm shaking right now. Everything is too much. Twenty-two year old Oscar Grant is going to be buried today. The .40 caliber hole that Oakland's bravest left in his back will be cleaned, dressed, unnoticeable. When my grandma died, the morticians told us that it's difficult to recreate the smile on the deceased; something about their muscles pulling downwards. I wonder what Oscar's face will reveal.

"No, no! Use the Taser, not the gun! Anything but the gun! Please, I'm still young."

(San Francisco Chronicle, listen up: When the police kill a person of color, it's never a mistake.)

I also wonder if those three young children whose tears and blood and confusion were put on display - "live from Gaza" - have died from their wounds, like so many will. Yesterday, España celebrated the Three Kings Day, the Epiphany, or the visit of the Magi to the baby Jesus. As cluster bombs tore tiny hands off hundreds of little baby Jesus', Spanish economists worried that the sales of smaller roscones (the traditional ringed sweet bread baked with a little bean inside) was a strong indication of a weak economy.

"We are Palestinians, men, women and infants. We resist. We are Oscar Grant, too."

President Uribe will receive the Medal of Freedom from George Bush, along with Howard of Australia and Blair of England, for his defense of liberty by way of a generous use of American-made bullets. On December 28th, in the F.C. Barcelona soccer stadium, a group of activists unfurled banners during the Catalonian-Colombian soccer match. Between cries of "Hay que darle plátano pa' que coja fuerza, no joda!" and Catalonian independence flags, private security guards fought with the activists to pull down the banner. Freedom of expression was squashed, much like Colombia's plátano-deprived soccer team. (See article, photos).

Que no olvidemos. Que la lucha coja fuerza en el 2009, no joda. We are many, and let's be angry. If you have doubts about rioting, remember this: "Motherf--k a window. Radio Raheem is dead."

Planes and Cava: Bad Mix for New Year

2009-01-01T05:17:00.001-08:00

Barcelona - January 1st, 2009.

The following is a snippet of a note written from one smart, wise cousin to his equally smart(-ass), wise(-cracking) cousins.

"Happy New Year! Hope you all had a good time... were you all together? Must have been fun. So I'll cut right to the chase, since you are all dying to know what your really smart cousin wants to let you know.

"Do you know what happens when you stay up all night on New Year's Eve, get really drunk on cava, and have to catch a flight to Italy at 6 in the morning? You end up in the airport, really drunk and really tired, fall asleep at the gate, and wake up 5 minutes after your plane has taken off.

"So take it from your wise, hungover cousin... don't waste money and feel like a complete idiot. In other words - don't do what I did!

"So here I sit, once again in Barcelona, looking like a complete jackass, instead of seeing the mountainous north of Italy, having to pick up used beer cans and olive seeds.

"Happy New Year! Love, Mico*"

*Names have been changed to protect identities.

¡Libre Palestina! Free Palestine!

2008-12-31T01:48:00.000-08:00

Estoy en la sala, surfeando la Web, pensando en la cena de anoche, su toque que despertó emociones enterradas vivas, una conversación teórica sobre la violencia y la no violencia repitiéndose en la cabeza. El sol entra rojo por las ventanas. Nina Simone arrullando ligeramente al fondo, mezclada con los pitos y sonidos de motocicletas de afuera. Impotentes, pesados sienten mis dedos. Un boquete en el pecho, un balazo imaginario, Todo por Palestina. Todo por ella maldita.

Más información: aquí, aquí y aquí, entre otros...
Protesta en Barcelona aquí.

Obama Caganer

2008-12-26T01:43:00.001-08:00

DSCN0052
Originally uploaded by elchiapanico2

One of this year's most popular Christmas Nativity addition, Barack Obama is seen here taking a crap in Alex's hand. The caganer (the "r" is silent) is a old figure in the Catalán Christmas tradition, and for you faithful, has been (grudgingly) approved by the Catholic Church. The original caganer is dressed like a Catalán farmer, with a typical red barretina, or beret. If you look closely at the pic, you can see that Obama is pooping: the defecating caganer is seen as a symbol of fertility and luck, and is usually placed somewhere outside Jesus's barn in the Nativity scene. I don't like to advertise for big companies, but for those of you who want your very own caganer, check this out.

Click on the picture to go to my Flickr page. (That's enough I-thought-anarchist-don't-believe-in-technology jabs.)

The caganer is also closely related to the cagatío, which is a log with a painted face, a barretina, and a blanket, which is something of a Catalán Santa Claus. Last night, at Alex's parents' house, we all gathered around the cagatío and in keeping with tradition, beat it with a stick until it pooped us out a gift. I'll put pics up later. The song you sing as you beat the cagatío varies by family and region, while the one we sang went like this:

"Caga Tío, d'avellanes i turrons; tu que ets el meu padrí, caga turrons per a mi!"

Which translates roughly into: "Poop out some almonds and chocolate, Uncle; as you are my godfather, poop some chocolate for me!"

If you didn't think that Catalán society was already scatalogical enough, get this: when Alex's baby nephew, Pau, happily crapped his pants, everyone rushed into the bedroom to watch him being changed, while I sipped a nice Rioja wine at the table with Alex's French-Algerian aunt, Marcelle. We laughed our asses off (no poop-related pun intended).

“Nativa o Extranjera, La Misma Clase Obrera!”

2008-12-22T16:31:00.001-08:00

Around 5:30pm, December 20th, in the Plaza Sant Jaume, in the Gothic neighborhood of Barcelona, some 500 immigrants started up a boisterous march through the neighborhood’s narrow and winding streets. That chant - “Native-born or foreigner, we’re the same working class!” could be heard all the way to Las Ramblas*, where confused or interested holiday shoppers struggled to discern what was being said. This march wrapped up ten days of protests across Spain (www.redi.org.es) and other parts of Europe by grassroots organizations, NGOs and communities, in commemoration of the 60th anniversary of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (December 10th) and the December 18th International Day of Migrants. But the protestors - from various parts of Africa, the Middle East and South Asia - were also on the streets to denounce the new European Union’s anti-immigrant law passed in the summer which, among other things, allows for people to be detained up to 18 months before being deported. Spain initially put a cap at 40 days of possible detention, but last week raised it to 70 days. It was a very energetic and positive march and I promised myself after the march that I need to go buy a camera...

Which I did. After buying my camera from the Miró electronics chain store, I understood more about American freedoms, and why the US launches wars for “Enduring Freedom.” With Iraq, the US took on more than it could chew. We should have started with something easy, like Spain. Take for instance, the Miró store I entered. I was extremely frustrated that the overworked employee (here, an 8-hour day is pretty much 10-1, then a two hour power lunch, then continuing on from 3-8) kept forcing me to choose a camera without letting me see what was in the box! They didn’t even have batteries in the camera so you could take silly pictures of yourself and leave it for the next shopper! If that’s not a lack of freedom, I don’t know what is! Spain is almost there, we just need to bomb them into the free world. Maybe later, I’ll put up a picture of the obnoxious street-side recycling bins: every time you put in your recyclables, you have to force them through a tiny hole and you get your hands dirty. It makes you want to just throw everything in a trash can, and let New Jerseyites sort it out at the landfills.

And then today, December 22, I went to a talk about the Congo, and how the need for coltan is fueling the war there. Coltan is short for columbo-tantalite, a mineral used to make electronics, from your totally unnecessary iTouch to your very necessary MacBook Black (wassuppp, Natty!). Basically, US, German and Chinese companies are paying off different actors in the conflict to safeguard their mines (much like the blood diamonds of Leonard Dicaprio fame; speaking of, Leonardo is involved in a campaign to save the endangered mountain gorilla from the effects of coltan mining... what a nice guy), and in the process, some 2 million black people have been killed. If I ever get down to the Congo, I’ll fill you in on more information, but for now, when T-mobile tells you that “since you have been a faithful customer for two years, you are eligible” for another useless bluetooth phone with touch vibration and a cool 2-inch HDTV screen, tell them to you-know-what.

Oh, so welcome to my blog. I hope to keep you all up to date on what I get involved in here. If you have links that you want to add, please let me know. I want to add pics one day and audio. I have never done this before, so any help is much appreciated!!

*Las Ramblas comes from the Arabic word al-rambl, meaning “creek” or “river”, because a river used to run down that area, later to be turned into an open sewer canal before being turned into a tourist paradise. I like to think about all those tourist walking down Las Ramblas when shit was still oozing down there.

Armando and Madai, están en mis pensamientos.