jordan, israel and everything in between...

10 days in any other part of the world would not and could not have been the same. a 10 day trip in the middle east even in circumstances where nothing and no one explodes, threatens to explode or pose any other physical danger can be, if not physical, than at least a mind-blowing experience no matter how mentally you think you might be prepared for it. In 10 days, most of which I spent in Jordan in a conference, I managed to enter a country I never intended to go to (by mistake), witness an almost-war and meet people who are part of an actual war - all of this without intending any of the above to happen. I sometimes have the impression that in this part of the world, 'search for truth' or 'discovery of facts' is useless, reality is rubbed under one's nose and showered effortlessly. these little tidbits of local reality demonstrate undeniable complexity of life in the middle east in a way that no conventional media can do justice. perhaps some mediums are not meant to depict some things.

In fact, a friend recently forwarded to me the following article as a joke (www.theonion.com/content/news/middle_east_conflict_intensifies). It clearly cannot said to be deep or particularly knowledgeable and yet it captures as much of the reality of the various middle east conflicts, maybe- conflicts and almost-conflicts as any other mainstream piece of journalism on the region, likely to be written by someone dogmatically attached to some untenable ideal of 'how things ought to be', whether sunni or shia, jewish or muslim.

The violence has become habitual to the point of being banal. The news of a bomb in an Iraqi market is as unsurprising as a suicide bomber in Israel, as unsurprising as an IDF airstrike on Gaza as unsuprising (and yet astonishing!) positive assessment of the Iraq war by a US general (even one who claims authorship of his speech). the analysis of the events is usually as banal as these events have become.
a lifetime in a small european city can give me enough inspiration to produce a semi-constipated article about some local town developments, months in paris give me the inspiration to write a few stories, 10 days in the middle east and i genuinely do not know where to begin. there is so much similarity between all the conflicting parties and yet a sea of difference, so much hope and yet walls of dispair, so much development and yet so much poverty and underdevelopment, so much religion and spirit and yet violence that undermines any trust in religion and faith in humankind.

my travel plans entailed no more than a quiet trip from amman to jerusalem and then back to paris through tel a viv, no flights over baghdad or syria and yet i feel like i go the taste of all of the above. having talked to a few locals that have attempted to cross the jordanian border and cross through the west bank to jerusalem, i got mixed impressions including the possibility of spending 5 hours in 35 degree heat in 2 taxis and a bus that brings passangers between the two borders. I have never heard of a more elaborate border crossing procedure, but nothing is to be taken for granted: there are the palestinian refugees that no arab country in the region seems to hear about, the iraqi refugees that jordan is trying to stop at its borders, and the general atmosphere of an uneasy peace. so, I get on the plane for what will likely be the shortest trip of my life - if not for the fact that royal jordanian does not have the best 'parking spot' at ben gurion airport, the whole flight would have taken 20 mins.

Getting to israel was going to only be half of my problem, getting to my appointments, as I soon realised, was going to be much more complicated. Some, like the embassies which are all located in East Jerusalem for what I suspect are political statement reasons, can be easily found and subject to a number of security checks and business card verifications, accessed. (Such political statements are somewhat ironic, particularly for the Brits that on some sunny day in 1948 promised this piece of land to the jews, the hashemites and the palestinians. the brits have since made other promises and their office in jerusalem is not an embassy but carries a politically correct name of a consulate). Please mind the gap.

Locating 'non-consulate' premises such as local NGOs, think tanks and even offices of international organisations, requires more careful planning. The World Bank office for instance, does not seem to have either a street or a PO address, the primary identifier being sister Mary's school. one place i was not expecting to look for a 'sister Mary school' is palestine. when I arrive there, I realise that the price of the taxi ride includes the uncertainty factor for the taxi driver who might not be easily allowed back into Israel...and that is how I learn that I am actually no longer there. but where am I? apparently, that is not a question any local can answer. since the separation wall is being constructed, it is unclear whether this territory will be annexed to israel or to PA, when and on what terms. for the moment, i am in a grey area, which, momentarily, bring to mind images of Hamas shaking kalashnikovs on the streets of Gaza. But not here or at least not now, life is quiet in the small surrounding village with rose orchards and olive trees.

I am standing on the balcony of the local office housing international organisations with a local official who signs as he tells me the history of his family and his undeniable roots to this land, which no european or north american could ever understand, it is a feeling transcending religion and nationalism, it is a personal feeling, close to the heart of every local. I stand there choking on tears and trying my hardest to appear professional. i never thought that on some random balcony somewhere between ramallah and jerusalem i was going to realise the difference between having sympathy for someone and feeling for someone. it is morally easy to dismiss hamas militias making regular appearances on fox news, it is simply incomparable to do the same with someone who is a complete outlier of this image, someone who could pass for an israeli, for a french - except he was born palestinian.

I managed to re-enter the Israeli proper despite my driver's insistence to the local border officer that his name is Henry (he was actually a Palestinian christian) and the lack of an israeli stamp in my passport to which he didn't take kindly. I think this was probably the only situation where my suit was useful during this whole trip! back to the west jerusalem, i sat down at hillel cafe not too far from Sbarro pizza and all the other cafes on jaffa street around ben yahuda which have been blown up time and again during the intifada. its a difficult feeling being on both sides of the wall, being on both sides of the war. Even not many war correspondants have managed it, aside from the likes of robert fisk (see his latest 'war of civilisations'). for the rest of my trip, I felt like a non-combattant caught up in a familiar conflict having switched armies. Was I deserter temporarily or a permanent defector? I am afriad neither.

in the days to come, i tried to reconcile internally the narratives of the palestinians with those of the israelis I have met. I have to admit to failure. The first thing I saw when I opened the paper at that hillel cafe in front of the bombed restaurants was the IDF flights over Syria, which to this day remains as wrapped in mistery as a new born in a baby blanket. The second, and equally disturbing headline was the neo-nazi attacks on religious jews and foreigners by FSU immigrants to Israel. Although the physical security situation seems to have improved as compared to my last visit during the Intifada, the climate of rifts within the respective community of Israelis seem evident. While the Palestinians remain divided along Fatah-Hamas and tribal affiliations in the Arafat vacuum, the Israelis do not seem as an integrated whole either. It is not only that the two narratives do not reconcile, it is difficult to even identify a narrative.

Each clings desperately to their side of the story, and tries to justify injustice by another injustice. And just like that, on my flight back to Paris through Amman (which I randomly discovered was on no other day than 9/11), there was another attack on an Israeli army base in Gaza with another 70 army teenagers injured. In the Amman airport, I just did not feel like arguing with a american sitting next to me full of opinions on cnn bias towards the israeli side and the too generous coverage this attack was receiving. I was offended perhaps but too tired to take sides and argue and explain. too distracted by the sight of a little iraqi boy travelling through amman to get plastic surgery after someone had intentionally set him on fire. on 9/11, i would have hoped for people if not to 'feel for someone', than to at least have the humility to sympathize. And until my next trip to the middle east, I am afraid I will stop here.