Israel: Sands from Different Lands

I clean my feet, and there are grains of sand between my toes.

Where did they come from? Are they Israeli or Palestinian?

Insignificant, only annoying little grains that get everywhere, in your shoes, on your clothes, in your bags, and sometimes if you are not careful, in your eyes. Brush them away, and they fall to the ground to rejoin countless others. They disappear, and blow away in the wind.

It does not really matter where they are from, at least not to a wandering tourist, who has the freedom of travel between lands, and who can bring sands to and from different lands. But to the Israeli or the Palestinian it is another story altogether. The reason being, they are divided. Not just by an "Apartheid Wall", or "separation fence" (even the same object has a different name for Palestinians and Israelis), but by the different mentalities, visions, histories and religions. One thing they do share is the land, and perhaps even the shared fate of having to co-exist and worship with one another. No where is this more visible than in the Holy City of Jerusalem.

To a non-believer of any of the world religions of Judaism, Islam or Christianity, the Old City's narrow alleyways, churches, synagogues and mosques perhaps hold little spiritual significance. But navigating the maze of criss-crossing cobble-stone paths and the tight spaces between tourists and hawkers, it is hard to imagine that this little piece of Earth brings together people from the world over. Whether for the women in hijabs, or kipa-wearing children, or for those with rosemary beads around their necks, the devotion and longing for refuge in their respective faiths and gods is pure. I can only admire from afar how men bow before the Wailing Wall, murmuring unintelligible words from the Tora, while white pieces of paper stuffed in every crack in the wall contain the prayers and dreams of individuals. Hopes of good health, wishes of success, desires for religious salvation, prayers for family and friends. Despite all our differences, we are united in our common humanity, and in our common desire for peace. I gently lay my palm on the Wall, and closed my eyes temporarily.

A few meters above, the gilded Dome of the Rock stands above Wailing Wall. Built on the site of Jews' Holy Temple, the Dome is believed to be where Mohammed ascended to heaven. In the confusion below, Via Dolorosa (Way of Sorrows) is said to be the very path that Jesus took with the cros on his shoulder, with along the way various stations (statio) where Jesus was condemned to death, where he encountered his mother Maria, and the points where he fell. Beyond the tall walls of the Old City, is a valley and green hill that is the sacred Mount of Olives, which appears at various points in the Bible. But my friend and I were not so much interested in the happenings and legends of a book written eons ago, but more in writing adventures that would remain in our minds.


Our feet took us beyond the walls of the Old City, and to the other side of Jerusalem. The billboards became scribbles in Arabic, and the faces and clothing of the people around us also changed. At Damascus Gate, we asked around for a sherut (shared taxi) which would take us to the ancient city of Jericho. Problem was, Jericho was situated in the Palestinian Territories. An Israeli soldier had earlier tried to discourage us going there, but of course any Israeli would say that about places where being an Israeli could potentially mean risking one's life by entering. We defied the warning, and boarded a minibus, crowded in between Palestinian Arabs. There is no better way to travel than with the locals.

The minibus escaped the crowd and heat of the city, and was soon cruising down the slopes beyond Jerusalem. The beautiful greenery of the Mount of Olives faded as we navigated toward the Palestinian Territories. Perched idyllically on top of hills, and enjoying a vantage point over the land below, were sturdily built mansions within Israeli settlements. Surrounding them, big fences and gates and barriers to keep out burglars, and Palestinians. The minibus chugged onward, made a turn, and the scenery began to change.

No more well-maintained and well paved roads, no more neatly decorated houses. Instead, the ride became bumpier with each pot-hole the tires jumped beneath us. The houses looked run-down, the streets were filled with uncollected garbage and the white-pollution of lost plastic bags, and randomly a camel or donkey was parked at a roundabout waiting to pick up passengers. Children ran in the streets, defunct tires, coke cans and wild shrubs their playground. Outside the window, a concrete slabs of gray rose in the distance, covered with graffiti and plastered with words of "Free Palestine", in scenes reminiscent of Berlin. What stark contrast.

For the first time, I realised that I was entering a place where I cannot read the language, as the script was in Arabic, and unlike the Romanised alphabets used in all the countries I have been before. Perhaps this, and especially the fact that we were unmistakably two naive tourists who are easy pray to unscrupulous profiteers, heightened my sense of alert, or even distrust of others. But these feelings subsided as we met kind people ready to help, and as the desert opened before us into a vast land and glistening sea before us, that outstretched like a magnificent painting.


Out of nowhere, a town appeared in the middle of the desert, sheltering at the foot of the Judean Mountains, some 250m below the sea level on the ridge of the Jordan Valley. Often said to be the oldest inhabited place of mankind, the history of the settlement dates back to over 11000 years. Indeed, the Old City of Jericho contains the ruined walls and skeletons of structures from thousands of years Before Christ. Despite the archaeological value of the site, it was poorly maintained, and even the fence that was supposed to keep people out of certain excavations were derelict and rusting in the desert sun. The Hisham Palace close by contained beautiful architecture dating from the Umayyad Dynasty (660-770), which chose the site as a hunting lodge. Beautifully carved columns, walls and moziac frescos adorn the floors and ceilings of the palace, but was completely destroyed by a series of severe earthquakes. Today the treasure that lay beneath our feet were covered in a deep layer of sand and neglect, and we had brush away the sand to discover what treasures lay around us.

The groundsman, a friendly Palestinian, spoke of the times before the Second Intifida, when busloads of tourists would visit Jericho and the nearby sacred Monastery of Temptation, where Jesus is said to have fasted for 40 days and nights and withstood the temptation of the Devil. We had to resist the constant nagging and pity-evoking begging of two young children who trailed behind us half way up the mountain. Today, few tourists come, and even the monastery was empty when we arrived.

"All the fault of the Israelis", the man said, bitterness and anger in his voice. I looked around his office and admired the posters with "Welcome to Palestine" written all over them. There was even one glorifying the late Yasser Arafat. "A hero. A good man," was the comment. Outside, the flag of Palestine flew in the wind, the same wind that would blow and blow and make an Israeli flag waver and flutter somewhere in the distance, far, far away. Close by, a bus full of children sang and clapped cheerily, and mischievous me was reminded of the scenes from a Palestinian children's programme which which he had seen earlier on Youtube .



I thought of the almost empty roads we had passed on the way into Jericho, and I thought of the Israeli checkpoint and the Palestinian checkpoint that we had to pass to get this far into Palestine. A hotel and casino on the outskirts of town is today providing space for mosquitos to reside in, as the Israeli tourists who before used to come here to relax now stay away due to the heightened state of security. Shacks dotted the main road, and signs identifying construction and developments projects funded by USAID and the EU could be seen here and there. The driver pointed to a refugee camp, where expelled Palestinians have been living in for 16 years, refugees who had been ousted of their homes and now live on the charity of a complacent international community. Beyond the wall of their camp is another wall, and barriers after barriers, which together prevent millions of Palestinians from a life of normalcy and of prospects of a better future. This is just the West Bank, and Jericho is still a relatively affluent town. The no-go area of Gaza, and surroundings is place where the livelihoods and lives of Israelis and foreigners cannot be fully guaranteed. Contrast this with the white-washed Presidential Compound, belonging to Arafat, which was only one of many he used to retreat to, or the well-to-do Israeli settlements behind high walls in the (occupied) fertile lands.

The sun was beginning to set, and we had to be on our way out of the Palestinian Territories. Curfew would begin in a couple of hours, and the safety of foreigners (trapped) behind the checkpoints of Israeli soldiers becomes ever more risky. We could show our passports, and the young Israeli soldier would friendlily smile at us (or even flirt), before we were on our way, back to Jerusalem, back to the relative peace and security of Israeli territory. But many more are not so lucky, if not privileged.

On my feet and sandals were the sands of Jericho, sands of the Palestinian Territories. Soon they would mingle with the sands of the Land of Israel.

And even sooner, noone would be able to tell which grain of sand is from which different land.

Israel: The Background

ERETZ-ISRAELwas the birthplace of the Jewish people. Here their spiritual, religious and political identity was shaped. Here they first attained to statehood, created cultural values of national and universal significance and gave to the world the eternal Book of Books.
(From Israeli Declaration of Independence)

To Jews all over the world, 15 May 1948 is the Israeli Day of Independence. To the Palestinians, it is the Day of Catastrophe (Nakba). The State of Israeli was born, realising the Zionist dream of a national home for the Jewish people in Land of Palestine, the Promised Land, the "Land flowing with milk and honey" (Exodus 33:3), the land that God had assigned for the Israelites. Though sporadic immigration of Jews to Palestine had begun in the late 19th Century, the Balfour Declaration of 1917 signalled the that the British:

" favour the establishment in Palestine of a national home for the Jewish people, and will use their best endeavours to facilitate the achievement of this object, it being clearly understood that nothing shall be done which may prejudice the civil and religious rights of existing non-Jewish communities in Palestine, or the rights and political status enjoyed by Jews in any other country".

Diaspora Jewish communities sent large amounts of money and resources in preparation of the establishment of a Jewish State, as more and more immigrants returned to the Promised Land of their forefathers (and foremothers). On the same small stretch of land claimed by the Jewish people, Arabs made their home there for already centuries. At the first the influx of Jewish settlers caused sporadic tensions between the new immigrants and resident Arabs, and this cumulated in serious incidents of violence between the two communities, who contended for the land and valuable water and other resources. The situation was further exacerbated with influx of refugees as a result of the "Calamity" (Shoah, or Holocaust) in Europe.

As with so many other post-colonial tragedies, the ailing British Empire crumbled and simply departed, leaving the the aftermaths for the nascent UN to deal with. The solution, or to some the cause of the problems today, was the Partition Plan for Palestine (UNGA resolution 181), which effectively allocated merely 43% of the Mandated Palestine to the creation of an Arab State, though Arab Palestinians comprised some two-thirds of the population at the time, while the one-third of Jews would be allocated some 56% of the territory for the creation of a Jewish State. The area of Greater Jerusalem would become an international zone (see Report of UN Special Commission on Palestine (UNSCOP 1947)).

This was the plan strongly opposed by Arab states, which were wary of some 33% of Arabs inside the Jewish state. But on the very day that the Partition Plan would go into effect, the State of Israel proclaimed its independence. As recognition trickled in, the Arab States of Egypt, Syria, Jordan, Lebanon and Iraq invaded the new state and started the War of Independence. The Israeli Defence Forces fought back the invading armies, and actually expanded its territory to beyond the Partition Plan. The Armistice Agreements of 1949 gave the new Israel a disproportionate portion of Mandatory Palestine, some 78%. Arabs living in now Israeli controlled territory left, while others were expelled, fuelling what would now be called the Palestinian refugee situation, which would worsen with each successive conflict between Israel and its Arab neighbourg.

The Six Day War in 1967 was when Israel struck to pre-emptively disable Egyptian preparations for another plan to destroy Israel. Again, Israel's territory expanded greatly, reaching the Sinai Desert, the whole of the West Bank and Gaza. The Yom Kippur War in 1973 provided the impetus for Israel to agree to a ceasefire with Egypt and Jordan, and eventually paved the way for peace, with the pre-1967 borders as the prerequisite for peace.

Throughout all this, the Arab Palestinians found themselves increasingly isolated within their homes, and abandoned by some of their Arab neighbours. With a large refugee population in neighbouring Jordan, Syria and Lebanon, pan-Arabism rallied under the (supposed) united flag of the Palestinian Liberation Organisation in the 1960s. Through what some would term as terror tactics, the PLO championed the cause and plight of the Palestinians, and eventually gained international recognition as the Palestinian Authorities responsible for administering the West Bank and Gaza. Even so, there are political elements within and without Palestine which advocate a extremist approach to dealing with Israel in the face of what is commonly viewed as the oppression and occupation of the Palestinian people. The First Intifada (Uprising, 1987-1993), gave expression to the frustration and anger of Palestinians in the light of continuing demolition of homes to make way for Jewish settlements within Palestinian territories, as well as continuing deportations, extra-judicial killings and restrictions on basic daily needs. The proclamation of Palestinian Independence in 1988 achieved little to quell this popular “War of Stones”, as the Palestinian Authorities did not have any effective control over the territories it claimed to govern.

A Second Intifada, starting in 2000, began with protests and strikes, and cumulated in increasing suicide bombings and launching of Qassam rockets into Israeli areas by the likes of extremist organisations as Hamas, and Hezbollah in Lebanon. To stifle the waves of violence, Israel in return erected checkpoints and barriers to hem in and hinder the free movement and activities of Palestinians in their own territories. The construction of a 'Security Barrier' around the West Bank, which is now approximately 60% complete and is supposed to prevent terrorist attacks, and cordons off Palestinians in their own lands. This Wall (for lack of a better term) effectively cut the West Bank into sniplets of Palestinian-controlled enclaves, which are like artificial islands surrounded by Israeli territory and controls.

Who would have thought that of all people, we would be 'privileged' enough to see former US-President Jimmy Carter deliver a press conference on his recent visits and talks with Syrian officials and Hamas. It was his labouring efforts that gave birth to the Camp David Accords in 1973. He recently aroused controversy with his new book "Palestine: Peace not Apartheid", which premises the root of the inability to reach a breakthrough in the current conflict on two origins:

- Some Israelis believe they have the right to confiscate and colonize Palestinian land and try to justify the sustained subjugation and persecution of increasingly hopeless and aggravated Palestinians; and

- Some Palestinians react by honoring suicide bombers as martyrs to be rewarded in heaven and consider the killing of Israelis as victories.

Though not officially endorsed by the Bush administration or by Israel, Carter's 'mission' to meet with players in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict has aroused suspicion. Though claiming not to shoulder the responsibility (or burden) of the "mediator", his city-hopping in the Middle East aimed to bridge dialogue and communication on different sides of the divide has brought criticism, especially as he is probably the first high-profile American to speak with the leader of Hamas, which the US and EU have branded as a terrorist organisation. Carter spoke so hopefully of "peace in our time", and spoke of Hamas' aspirations to "live as a neighbour next door in peace" with Israel. Yet, in typically politician-speak, Carter seemed to forget the continuing use of terrorist tactics by Hamas and continuing intimidation of the Israeli as well as dissenting Palestinian public. Listening to him speak of his tour of the Middle East, talk about plans for prisoner exchange, about how difficult the situation is, and how much need there is for dialogue, you cannot but feel like such words as "peace" and "dialogue" have been too often repeated and regurgitated, but to the detriment of any real progress in true peace and dialogue. The applause seemed luke-warm, and within minutes of the press conference ending, the horde of reporters and swarm of cameras that had gathered in the back of the hall at King David Hotel had disappeared. And so had Carter.

But the conflict, non-recognition and tensions rage on and on, as they have for decades, and as they will continue to do so for the foreseeable future to come.

Israel: Desert and Dead Sea

We drove across in a narrow, winding valley toward the West Bank. Having only arrived merely six hours earlier at 2am, I was surprisingly awake. The excitement of being in a completely new country, and the adrenaline rushing from the sights and things never before seen, and waiting to be seen, drained away the sleepiness.

The skyline of modern Tel Aviv faded behind us, and vast fields gradually opened up around us.
Not the usual kind of green grass fields familiar to the Netherlands, as the ground was more arid, and the vegetation sparse. And the more we drove eastward, the drier, and therefore less green and grown the land would become. Along the roads were tall big billboards, but they were covered with black cloth, shielding whatever sign of capitalism lurked beneath. The locals had protested the erection of advertising billboards along Israel's highways, as they complained that valuable open spaces and beauty were being taken away from these signs, which formed an eyesore. A court ruling found in favour of an environmentalist group, and hence the Knesset (parliament) will be waiting to see what law can be passed regarding these now covered billboards.



For the first time, I saw date trees tower over the land, grown in neatly cultivated rows and columns, looking like palm trees, only with much bushier treetops. Somehow, this tropical looking tree reminded me of Asia, but then again the strange combination of pines, olive groves, and eucalyptuses and tall needle-like cypresses crowded in the same land. Of the latter, Israeli children are brought up with stories of these dark, thin and versatile trees that stand so tall and so strong, and that bend and swagger with the wind, yet do not fall. It is a symbolic metaphor for the spirit and strong will of a people that has throughout history endured much persecution and resistance to their existence, yet have continued to stand tall and not falter or fall.

The road soon wound up and around hills of the Judean Mountains, and as we neared Jerusalem, more and more the tops of those hills were covered with neatly zoned houses overlooking the land below. We skirted around Jerusalem, in search of the road that would bring us deeper into the desert beyond the mountains. Instead, the mistaken road led us deeper and deeper into the Orthodox territory of the Holy City.

Soon, men with huge hats and clad in dark, long clothes walked on the roads around us. They were Hasidic Jews, originating from Eastern Europe, and believed to be the sect that most clings onto the traditions of the Tora and most conservative of all, with regards to values of family, work and the status of women. They had long payots ('sides') hanging around their ears below their fur hats, and even in the 25C+ heat, they wore thick, long jackets that covered till beneath their knees. Driving carefully, we avoided the groups of men, with the women and girls trailing behind, who wandered the roads as if there were no traffic lights. To them, that day was the start of Pesach, which commemorates the exodus of Jews from Egypt, and the freeing of the Jewish people from slavery, and is commonly considered one of the, if not most, sacred holiday in the Jewish calendar. One "Pinguins Jew", as some refer to them because of the way they dress, closed in on us and started to shout. Apparently he was offended that we were driving through their part of town, and perhaps even by the fact that my friend was uncovered and scantily dressed in a very revealing top. Thank goodness they did not start to spit or throw rocks at us, as some have been reported to do at trespassers.



The position of these Orthodox Jews is contradictory. On the one hand, they view themselves as the most representative and embodying of the State which is the Jewish Homeland. Yet, their religious devotion prohibits, and acts as an excuse, for them to be exempted from military service, which all Israeli men and women must complete upon reaching the age of majority, and which lasts around 3 years. The devotion, and at times, extremism, of the Orthodox Jews can be said to be on par with Muslim extremists, as some would not even flinch to kill to defend their faith (witness the assasination of Yitzhak Rabin in 1995).

Moments later, we found our way out of "the hood", and breathed a sigh of relief as the landscape around us gradually became desert. Beyond the Judean Mountains lay the Judean Desert, parts of which form the lowest point on Earth, falling to a depth of some 400m below sea level. This unique landscape consists of a series of steppes and hills that is layer upon layer of rock and limestone that has accumulated over the millennia due to tectonic shifts and subsiding water levels. Most well-known is the remnant of a great big lake that is now commonly referred to as the Dead Sea, which would later surprise me with its hidden secrets.

Land spread before us, like a suddenly spread open sheet of light brown, sweltering and swooning in the heat and in the distance. The car raced downhill, past signs carved into the limestone rocks that indicated we were moving rapidly further and further below the sea level. Never in my whole life have I seen a desert, and there and then, I was surrounded by the aridness and barreness of it all. The stuff of documentaries, of awe-inspiring still photographs, and now it was all before my eyes. Deep ravines, barren hills like columns next to one another stretching for as far as the eye could see, toward the Dead Sea in the distance. Cactuses, dry shrubs and metal shacks of nomad Bedouines dotted the landscape, together with wandering goats, and the occasional camel and its master that waited on the roadside like a taxi waiting to be hailed.

Eventually, we reached the shoreline of the legendary Dead Sea. The salt content of the Dead Sea is concentrated, so dense, that rocks of pure salt form at the bottom of what in actual fact is a lake. But the water is dwindling, and fast, due to overuse of the water that flows into the Dead Sea from the River Jordan. This means, some hundred years ago, when the British were there, the water levels have been dropping by 1m per year. The difference is clearly visible, as all along the road that winds along the coast of the Dead Sea are signs that warn visitors of the danger of swimming and of falling into fragile salty flats that treacherously hide deadly ravines that fall tens of metres into the earth are today far, far away from where the shoreline is. By the way the water is evaporating, and leaving behind large tracts of land and salt layers, the entire Dead Sea phenomenon may disappear within the next decade or so. Which is why the World Bank is very supportive of an initiative to link the Dead Sea and Red Sea together, so that water levels in the latter can be replenished, slowly, and also maintain the natural salt contents which it has.

First, we stopped at the Ein Gedi oasis, which was literally an oasis in the middle of the desert. Amid the barren, dry and dusty landscape, was a sudden and unexpected patch of green, of date plantations and of green grass. The reason for this was a water source that sprang from the earth, and gave life to an (aptly) named "Wadi David" (Arabic for a riverbed that is usually a place of human settlement). There, a small creek flowed, giving life to the plantations below, and also to life to a Kibbutz nearby.

At first, hiking upstream toward the source of the creek was a disappointment, not just because of how small the creek was, but also by the frail streak of water that was David's Fall. Then, we ventured higher and higher up the mountain, trekking in the blaring heat of the desert sun, at times with me wondering whether I would just faint with the little water I had taken with me, and finished even before we were half way up the mountain. The landscape was again the same arid and barrenness defining of a desert, with the exception that close by the streak of flowing, shallow water, a few shrubs and trees grew. Ibexes (mountain wild goats) and a rock hyrax (cony) accompanied us along the way.

But then, as we neared the source of the river, and as we got further from the hordes of tourists and children, we found peace, and coolness, in inviting ponds of clear water. There were pools here and there, some the size of a jacuzzi out in the open sun, others tucked away behind giant boulders, with its beauty and serenity well hidden from sight. We climbed down a rock face, and splashed around a pool of still water with a constant stream of water falling from the cliff above. The water was cool, and I was refreshed, not just by the water I was submerged in, but also by the sweet tasting and uncontaminated water that I could just drink from all around me. Uncontaminated, that is, if no wild animal had urinated in it further up stream. I swam in the pool, glad I made the trip and extra effort up the mountain, and rewarded with such a heavenly experience, shared in my memories and with two great friends.

We travelled onward, in search of a place with few people to park ourselves in the waters of the Dead Sea before the sun set. But before that we swung by a mystical fortress called Masada, which to Jewish people is the site of a ritual suicide in the face of an invading Roman legionthat embodies the spirit of defiance and courage of the Jewish nation. Today, the ruins of this ancient fort is where recruits of the Israeli Defence Forces complete their basic training with the words "Masada shall never fall again". Unfortunately, the gates of the ruins fell that day when we arrived, and I could only admire the row of Israeli flags flying in the wind of dying light, and admire the fortress perched atop the impressive mountain above. I could only imagine, and that enough was awe-striking, the events and the histories that took place in this sanctified fortress.



I carefully walked into the water, wary of the sharp salt rocks beneath my feet that seemed to cut. My friends had eased themselves into the 'sofa' of sea water, and were leisurely floating on the surface. But I was a little hesitant, and a lot curious. I walked deeper into the water, crouched, and leaned back. I burst out laughing, as I floated up on the surface, salty water splashing around me. I tasted some water, and it was the most salty substance I had ever put into my mouth. I quickly spat it out, and burst out laughing again, at this strange and unexplainable sensation of floating on water, of defying science as I had known it. Until this moment, floating like an inflated dingy on the calm, calm surface of the Dead Sea. I peddled my feet, and stroked my arms, but it was hard to move around. Water seeped into my eyes, and it burned them like acid, and I had to quickly wash them clean with showers on the beach. Other tourists floated around me, and even big ones did not sink, but just floated away on the surface. I tried to "jump" in the water, but whatever I did, I just bopped up and down like a buoy at sea. An excited boy out at sea.



Then I stated to feel... feel the cuts, bruises, wounds and scratches all over my body, even in places I did not know I had injured myself before. The salt clenched to my body, cleansing it with the magical healing powers that it is famed for, but at the same time, also teasing my skin in slight, tingling pain. The scratch from my cat, the scrape on my knee from hours earlier, and the little wound from stubbing my toe on the hike up the mountain. I felt it all, but at the same time, felt the water disinfect every crack and wound. I collected some salt rocks, wishing to bring them home to my mum to share with her this miraculous healing water. In the distance, a small stretch of land protruded out of the water, the surface of which glistened white in the setting dusk sun. The temperature dropped rapidly, but with my body half submerged in the water, I could still feel the warm of day stored in the molecules of water and salt that surrounded me.

Night fell, and the full moon rose. The moonlight cast a long ray of light across the surface of the Dead Sea, as gradually towns and villages on the other side of shore lit up, revealing how close Jordan lay beyond these waters.

Israel: between security and beauty

"What are you doing here? What flight are you taking, and where are you going?"

"I was told to come here at least three hours before my flight. I will be flying Turkish Airlines, first to Istanbul, then to Amsterdam."

"Why were you in Israel?"

" To travel. As a tourist."

"Where have you been?"

"Jerusalem, the Dead Sea, Tel Aviv, and Nahariya," I recounted, but deliberately leaving aside a single detail so as to avoid another barrage of questions. Jericho, I was in Jericho. But the security officer did not have to know I was in the Palestinian Territories. It was not lying. Just withholding information. For my sake.



"How long did you stay?"

"Four, five days in total."

"Where did you stay?"

"With a friend, who is Israeli. He lives in Tel Aviv."

"How do you know him, and how long have you known him."

" I met him in the Netherlands, and we know each other a few months."

"Did you pack your bags yourself? Did anyone give you anything to take with you," the lady asked, this time with a smile, " We ask this because before a tourist was given something to carry, and it turned out to be a bomb."

"I packed my bags myself, and I did not take anything from anyone. I only have clothes, and some souvenirs," I said, and as if to make sure she understood and believed me, I shook my head. My luggage was stickered as the lady scribbled a number of things on the security tag, before it was hauled onto the biggest X-Ray machine I have ever seen at any airport. I smiled politely, and went my way, but unaware that this was one of only five security checks before I could board my flight out of Israel.

It was half past two in the morning when I arrived at Ben Gurion Airport. Even before entering the new and modern Terminal 3 building, a plain clothed security guard stopped me and asked me a series of questions about my reason for being at the airport. My luggage was opened, and two ladies took around 10 minutes to sweep my bag with a piece of cloth, which they then put through a scanner used to detect ion particles and explosives. I was cleared, but my smelly clothes, socks and underwear, Birkenstocks, Lonely Planet, and camera recharger had been exposed to the public. Embarrassed, I quickly packed my luggage again, and proceeded to the check-in.

The lady at the passport control sipped her warm drink before browsing through my passport and stamping hard in the pages. Another security check fondled through my carry-on luggage, and again took me aside to check every single item for potential explosives. Perhaps I was lucky, as the man before me had be taken aside and told to take off his shoes and shirt. I could see the tempers rise, but security takes priority over the privacy of passengers, and rightly so, especially flying out of a country under an almost constant state of alertness.


This was the country that I had visited for the past number of days. A country of contrasts, of overlapping cultures, histories, religions, and overlapping peoples that in places share the same crowded spaces, but in other places are segregated in scenes and ways that to some appear to be the equivalent of despicable and unjustifiable Apartheid.

But this was a country that had left a deep impression on me, even before my visit. So imagine what impression it has had on me during and thereafter.

One hears much about Israel in the news... about the suicide bomb explosions, the unrests in Gaza, the bulldozing of (illegal) settlements, about the scuffles between feisty journalists with Israeli soldiers, and about the difficulties experienced by Palestinians in gaining access to the most basic medical care and food sources. But one does not much see or hear about the reasons and causes behind all this negative press... nor does one often realise the wild, raw beauty and legends and history that is shrouded in the dust of the desert.



Without being an apologist or tacitly endorsing the policies and actions of the Israeli government within the country and in the Occupied Palestinian Territories, without downplaying the sufferings and man-made and man-maintained humanitarian disaster in the enclaves carved by the internationally condemned Wall, which the International Court of Justice has pronounced as illegal, the following will be a recount of my experiences and memories of Israel.

It is my hope that my account will bring a little (personal) insight to a place often disputed, and perhaps more often misunderstood. The politics, religions and policies of this, perhaps most, volatile piece of land on Earth, has been recounted again and again and occupies the fascination, disgust or reverence of whoever receives it.

And here is my own.