Another side of Palestine
Every Friday morning a group of Palestinian walkers meet in Minara Square, in the centre of Ramallah, at 7.00 am sharp, 5.00 am in summer. All are welcome.
Last Friday there were about 17 Palestinians and 3 internationals – Martin, an American who works for USAID and who has lived and worked in the Middle East all his life; Lisa, a German working on her doctoral thesis on female suicide bombers, and myself. After introductions and a brief discussion, one Palestinian dropped out. For one reason or another he doesn’t possess a permit and so is unable to safely stray too far from the outskirts of Ramallah without facing the risk of imprisonment should he encounter the IDF.
The group piled into two Services and took off to a little hill top village about twenty minutes out of town. From there we made our way down through the terraces of olive trees to the stoney wadi below (dry river bed). Wadis remain dry for most of the year, but when it does rain a flood of water rapidly sweeps down from the hills drowning any unsuspecting creature in its path, including a number of people every year. In the morning mist the countryside looks like Tuscany except it is dryer, stonier and minarets dot the hillsides. Along the way our guides point out various wild flowers and herbs which the locals pick and fill their backpacks for cooking and tea making later on. Wild herbs of all sorts seem to be everywhere. The fruit trees are all beginning to come into blossom and red poppies line the paths.
In the valley below there is an old man riding a donkey, leading another. On the opposite hillside you can make out a herd of goats and some small shepherd boys searching for food for their charges. Up in the clear sky hawks hover and plunge and then hover again as the sun climbs and the temperature rises on a pleasant mild day.
Several hours into the walk we arrive in a small village and are invited onto a large terrace in front of somebody’s house. Sweet tea and strong coffee are served (both, not one or the other). The village leader comes and sits with us speaking of the history of the village. This is, of course, in Arabic, but one of the Palestinians translates for me until he can’t stand the interruptions from all the others correcting his translation which appears, from what the others are saying, to be remarkably far from the mark – a pity, because I quite liked the story he was telling.
We say our thanks and move on, visiting a ruined fortified house on a nearby hill top and then down to more wadis and up through more olive groves until we reach another village, and more sweet tea and strong coffee.
Lunch is taken in a green pasture by another wadi. Tea is brewed, taken with humus, bread, olives, fruit, humus, sliced meats, salad, chocolate cake and humus. After lunch one of the Palestinian women starts to sing, accompanied by the call to prayer from a distant minaret on a surrounding hill. The singing is beautiful, but like most Palestinian songs, is extremely mournful and is probably best enjoyed with a packet of anti-depressants.
After lunch, we climb up out of the valley and cross a settlers’ road to the grumbles of the Palestinians and then into the next village for more sweet tea and coffee. The final activity for the day is to climb a nearby forest covered round top hill for more beautiful but painful songs. We are surrounded by what seems to be all the children from the village, some on donkeys others with ingeniously made slingshots which they use against the trees, and god knows what else, soldiers probably.
Finally, it is down the hill at 3.00 pm where we pile exhausted into two more Services for the journey back to Ramallah. Next Friday the group may walk from Ramallah to the Jordan valley and Jericho, a descent of 2 km – I hope so, it is supposed to be spectacular and passes a number of old monasteries built into the cliff sides.
Palestine is an extraordinarily beautiful land and definitely a land of contrasts. It is an intense experience.
Every Friday morning a group of Palestinian walkers meet in Minara Square, in the centre of Ramallah, at 7.00 am sharp, 5.00 am in summer. All are welcome.
Last Friday there were about 17 Palestinians and 3 internationals – Martin, an American who works for USAID and who has lived and worked in the Middle East all his life; Lisa, a German working on her doctoral thesis on female suicide bombers, and myself. After introductions and a brief discussion, one Palestinian dropped out. For one reason or another he doesn’t possess a permit and so is unable to safely stray too far from the outskirts of Ramallah without facing the risk of imprisonment should he encounter the IDF.
The group piled into two Services and took off to a little hill top village about twenty minutes out of town. From there we made our way down through the terraces of olive trees to the stoney wadi below (dry river bed). Wadis remain dry for most of the year, but when it does rain a flood of water rapidly sweeps down from the hills drowning any unsuspecting creature in its path, including a number of people every year. In the morning mist the countryside looks like Tuscany except it is dryer, stonier and minarets dot the hillsides. Along the way our guides point out various wild flowers and herbs which the locals pick and fill their backpacks for cooking and tea making later on. Wild herbs of all sorts seem to be everywhere. The fruit trees are all beginning to come into blossom and red poppies line the paths.
In the valley below there is an old man riding a donkey, leading another. On the opposite hillside you can make out a herd of goats and some small shepherd boys searching for food for their charges. Up in the clear sky hawks hover and plunge and then hover again as the sun climbs and the temperature rises on a pleasant mild day.
Several hours into the walk we arrive in a small village and are invited onto a large terrace in front of somebody’s house. Sweet tea and strong coffee are served (both, not one or the other). The village leader comes and sits with us speaking of the history of the village. This is, of course, in Arabic, but one of the Palestinians translates for me until he can’t stand the interruptions from all the others correcting his translation which appears, from what the others are saying, to be remarkably far from the mark – a pity, because I quite liked the story he was telling.
We say our thanks and move on, visiting a ruined fortified house on a nearby hill top and then down to more wadis and up through more olive groves until we reach another village, and more sweet tea and strong coffee.
Lunch is taken in a green pasture by another wadi. Tea is brewed, taken with humus, bread, olives, fruit, humus, sliced meats, salad, chocolate cake and humus. After lunch one of the Palestinian women starts to sing, accompanied by the call to prayer from a distant minaret on a surrounding hill. The singing is beautiful, but like most Palestinian songs, is extremely mournful and is probably best enjoyed with a packet of anti-depressants.
After lunch, we climb up out of the valley and cross a settlers’ road to the grumbles of the Palestinians and then into the next village for more sweet tea and coffee. The final activity for the day is to climb a nearby forest covered round top hill for more beautiful but painful songs. We are surrounded by what seems to be all the children from the village, some on donkeys others with ingeniously made slingshots which they use against the trees, and god knows what else, soldiers probably.
Finally, it is down the hill at 3.00 pm where we pile exhausted into two more Services for the journey back to Ramallah. Next Friday the group may walk from Ramallah to the Jordan valley and Jericho, a descent of 2 km – I hope so, it is supposed to be spectacular and passes a number of old monasteries built into the cliff sides.
Palestine is an extraordinarily beautiful land and definitely a land of contrasts. It is an intense experience.
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