glimpses from kritsnie's world

Sometimes when I write my name in a rush, my fingers end up with “kritsnie”. This is a blog for muddled up words and worlds, for random thoughts and persistent search for constructive confusion. nb! The views contained herein are personal and do not necessarily reflect those of my current or former employers.

Tuesday, November 28, 2006

on politics of uncertainty

For an insightful read, here's an article by Laila al-Hadad, on politics of uncertainty and borders of dispossession.

favourite pieces of wall

Friday, November 24, 2006

"it is a very simple thing, to die here"

We are being shown around Nablus, by three young, reflected students. They take us on a tour of the campus, and we share our stories as we go along, talking about university life, what music we listen to, or, of course, the political situation. In a city constantly under pressure from the Israeli army, the university is not exempt. 52 students have been killed in political violence over the last five years, and many more have been detained or arrested or mal-treated.

In the morning, before coming, we rang up our contact at the university, to check the security situation. "It's OK," he said, "the army comes at night, you come at day." So off we set to Nablus, one of the West Bank's largest cities, a couple of hours north of Jerusalem, in principle the vibrant economic centre of the northern West Bank, in practice a strangled city, heavily controlled by the Israeli army. The UN reports of 73 checkpoints around Nablus, virtually shutting in Nablus' 170 000 or so citizens.

Our guides take us around, and in one moment they explain to us why the main campus square is called the Red Square (for two reasons: the tiles are red, and, moreover, it is the square of love, where you meet up with whoever you want to meet), and in the next moment they speak of the instability of the situation, of living with the inpredictability: "To die here, it is a very simple thing. You can be walking with me now, and then five minutes later you hear that I am dead." Both pieces of information are given as the most matter of fact thing.

As one of our contacts explains, Nablus is a place where, sometimes, life and death become equal, and it drives people to do extreme things. The old city in Nablus has long been a hiding place for militant groups. Because the streets are narrow and roofed in, they are difficult to access for heavy army vehicles, making the ancient alleys a battle ground. As we pass through the old city we see proof of the standoff - members of the militant groups are out on street corners, posters of combatants killed in action are on most walls. Throughout the old city are paths of destruction where the army has attempted to make its way in, demolishing houses and livelihoods on the way.

At the university they are eager to tell the stories of Nablus. A youth exchange program has been set up, bringing international volunteers to the city, and supplying Palestinian news to the world. One of the projects is a "Right to Education" campaign. It is an attempt to fight the daily obstacles faced by too many of the university's 14 000 students - restrictions on movement, invasion of dormitories, racism, humiliation. Hopefully it can make it easier to live, harder to die.

This is for my friends in Nablus.