A Week in Jerusalem

Beitar Jerusalem is the local football team. The prenom "Beitar" comes from a militant Jewish youth movement formed before the birth of modern Israel... which in turn took the name from a fortress whose Jewish defenders were slaughtered by the Roman legions before the birth of Christ.

Jews have long memories.

In other parts of the world, sport goes hand in hand with politics and ethnicity. For example, in Rome, SS Lazio was Mussolini's team of choice, and its fans- and some of its players- are right-wing fascists.


Beitar fans are Israel's Lazio fans. Religious, yarmulke-wearing, footie fanatics who spend Friday nights in the synagogue and Saturday nights in the stadium. They wear yellow-and-black skull-caps embroidered with the menorah and the Lion of Judah. And they hate Arabs.

They're the kind of Jews who won't vote for the Likud because it's not extreme enough.

They're the kind of Jews who want Israel to be a "Jewish State", not a "State of Jews"- read: theocracy.


Beitar fans booed during a memorial service for Yitzhak Rabin, assassinated by a right wing zealot, Yigal Amir... and then sang raucous songs of praise for Amir.

Beitar fans are known for chanting "Death to the Arabs" for the full length of a football match.

Beitar fans took out space in the obituary sections in all of Israel's major papers after they lost the 2004 league final to Sakhnin, their archrivals and the only Arab Israeli team in the league. Why? To declare Israeli soccer dead.

More recently, Beitar fans were banned from attending one home match- their team would play to an empty stadium. The crime? Chanting "Muhammad is dead! Muhammad is dead!" at a previous match.

I'll grant them this: Muhammad is dead. But it's still kinda offensive.

The team Beitar would play for that "banned attendance" match was- oh, IRONY!- the Arab team from Sakhnin.

So I went to the next match, against some chumps from Petah Tikva. Beitar won 2-1, but really, I was there for the fans.

They did not disappoint. Those matches are just excuses for Jews to swear at each other in choreographed chants.

I love my Canucks, and my city. But we need to borrow some fans from the footballing world.

* * *


This is Yamata-san.

He's the product of a new Japanese fad: a teddy named "Relaxed Bear"- the Japanese name defeats my tongue. There is a zip in the teddy's back, into which you can stuff...er... items. Keep this in mind; it becomes important.

Yamata-san was originally owned by an enigmatic Jap named "Lucky", who dressed in black and wore a balaclava. He'd brought his teddy on his trek across Asia, taking pictures of him in front of famous monuments and landscapes... and then posted the pictures on a Japanese blog that chronicled The Adventures of Yamata-san.

Lucky, in turn, bequeathed the teddy to Kazumi, a spunky 36-yr old who looks like she's 17, has had two Israeli boyfriends younger than me, and used to sing in a Japanese death metal band.

Kazumi told me that Yamata-san used to have a toy model of a little old man stuffed in through the zip in his back. The idea: Yamata-san is not really the teddy, but the little old man- who is wearing the teddy bear as clothing.

Every time I get a glimpse into the twisted workings of the Japanese psyche, I feel like I just swallowed the red pill.


I've said this before, and I'll say it again. I will go to Hell long before I ever go to Japan. I ain't tumbling down that rabbit hole.

* * *

It's snowing in Jerusalem.

Israel, like Vancouver, has neither infrastructure nor inhabitants built for snowfall. All Jerusalem shut down yesterday. Shops, churches, mosques, and malls. The felafel guy down the street took the day off, so I couldn't get breakfast. The priests at the Lutheran church stayed home to pray, so I couldn't climb the church spire to catch a view of the snowed-in Old City. The street drainage systems aren't built to handle more than rain, so the melting snow has been causing flash floods. Half the Old City's twisting, climbing streets turned into waterfalls and running rivers.

On a funnier note. Jeremy pointed out that the nearby Valley of Hinnom was used as a giant refuse pit in the time of Jesus, which was periodically set on fire. The garbage would burn for weeks. So in the Gospels, whenever Jesus referred to "Gehinnom", or Hell, he was talking about the burning garbage heaps of Hinnom Valley as the very incarnation of Hell.

Jeremy said that if you walked by Jaffa Gate, you could see that the Valley of Hinnom was completely snowed in.

Hell has frozen over.

* * *


Mar Saba is a rambling, ziggurat-like monastery east of Bethlehem. It clings to the side of a rocky cliff, overlooking miles of raw, rolling desert hills.

The monastery's founder, St Sabas, was one of those mad ascetics that young religions are famous for throwing up. Disgusted by the sinful world, he retreated into the Judean foothills for five years, living alone in a tiny cave hollowed into a stratified cliff-face, perched over a hundred foot drop.

Mar Saba's 15 monks are all Eastern Orthodox. They live without electricity- and without women, who are not even allowed to cross the threshold.

The Brother who showed us around had been a monk for 30 years, and the isolation and lack of sex had unhinged him a little. He rambled aimlessly, spoke incoherently, took the opportunity to get Jeremy to explain the English instructions on the back of his phone card, and apropos of nothing, expressed a desire to learn more about Native Americans.

Mar Saba was beautiful.


The tomb of Sabas had been this copper-domed structure, since moved to the side of the main chapel. Both tomb and chapel were painted with stunning, Sistine-quality murals from the Bible: a stream of animals tumbling out of Noah's Arc, Abraham with his dagger poised mournfully over Isaac, the gift of the Ten Commandments at Mt Sinai, Archangels Michael and Gabriel... all in the bold, stylized lines, rich hues, and hollow-cheeked, stern-faced visages unique to Eastern Orthodox iconography.

We were not allowed to take more than a few photos. The Brother forbade it. The monks, in the first place, did not want Mar Saba to turn into a tourist attraction. Prayer and photography are a zero sum game. Banning cameras are a simple way to ensure that visitors act like pilgrims, and not like Japanese.

But the monks had something more important in mind. I'll let the Brother explain.

"You know, people come here, take 120 photos, but they don't feel. They photo other people praying, but they don't pray. They run around, photo everything- but they forget to stand here and, you know... (And here, the old guy spread his arms, tilted his head, and took a deep, exaggerated, blissful breath.) They are so busy taking photos to remember for tomorrow, they forget about today. They forget about now. They forget to see and feel and know where they are.

This is why we don't want photos. Don't take photos and forget to live. Don't sacrifice the now for the memories."

* * *


I was in a record store in West J-town. I was trying to find music that Israelis listen to... Zionist hip-hop or something. Instead, I found some Hallmark cards for Israeli teens about to enter the mandatory Army service.

"So you're going to the Army!"


"... I hear in my mind all of these voices
I hear in my mind all of these words
I hear in my mind all of this music..."

* * *


The Temple Institute is made up of Messianic Christians and Jews whose fanaticism makes Saint Sabas look tame. Their ultimate goal is to destroy the Dome of the Rock on the Temple Mount and rebuild the Jewish Temple.

They've gone to the effort of recreating all the priestly items used for the sacrifices in the Second Temple two thousand years ago. Apart from the regular knick-knacks: incense vessels, lamps, silver spoons, oils, and vestments, the Institute has tried to breed red cows, which according to the Bible are reserved solely for sacrifice to the Lord. (The breeding attempts failed.)

The crowning achievement of this biblical recreation is the Menorah, a towering, five-foot candlestick covered with 43 kilos of pure gold.

The idea is that in the End Times- which every year is predicted to be the following year- Israel will blow the golden lid off the Dome of the Rock, resurrect the Temple, shove in that candlestick...

And HALLELUJAH, the Lord will descend from the heavens with armies of armored angels to battle the legions of Hell, lead by demons, hooded horsemen on pale horses, and a giant, naked whore with ten breasts who some say is Hilary Clinton.

It sounds like quite a show.

Celebrity Look-Alikes

This is James Ring, from Kent, England.

Now, here's a question. Does James look more like (1) Gary Busey, (2) Heath Ledger, or (3) Nick Nolte?

CON-VOY!

This post will be like an elementary school class plan. First, a short lecture, then a lot of pictures. Skip the prose if you like; I'll never find out, and don't care.

The last week has been the annual meeting of the World Economic Forum (WEF).

Every year, the richest corporate magnates on the planet assemble- captains of industry, powerful lobbiers, CEOs, tycoons... and of course, one or two lame-duck lackeys from a government or two. The WEF is something like the parties the French court held at Versailles before the peasants got fed up and stormed the Bastille. Our Global Nobles spend a week neck-deep in conspiracy and hedonism, brainstorming ways to further fill their moneybags... oh, I'm sorry... I meant: promote Free Trade.


Fuckit, whatever. I had a whole paragraph written here, and deleted it. You can learn about it yourself, or not. Be warned, however. The WEF, and meetings like it, is how our planet is ruled... and ruined. Ignore it at your own peril.


The (very weak) counterpoint to the WEF is the World Social Forum (WSF), a Tower-of-Babble mishmash of what we might call the "Left": anyone who opposes the New World Order. Anarchists, anti-globalization-ers, alter-globalization-ers, environmentalists, feminists, Marxists, and "freedom fighter" movements like the Basques, Kosovars, and Kurds.

Officially, the WSF is against neocolonization/neoimperialism, neoliberalism, racism, sexism, and war. In other words, they're against everything, and for nothing.

Every year, the WSF holds a Global Action Day to coincide with the WEF meetings. Traditionally held in one place, this year's WSF was broken down into dozens of localized demonstrations and meetings.

Palestine recently got in on the WSF action by tagging the Palestinian national struggle in with anti-neoimperialism (by Israel and the US), anti-war, anti-sexism, and anti-whogivesafuck. Sean's assessment: Palestinian organizers saw an opportunity to increase publicity over the Occupation by tying the Palestinian cause in with the World Social Forum.

So, in association with WSF Global Action Day 2008, a convoy was organized to bring food and medicine to the border of the Gaza Strip. Scores of cars and six big tour buses, packed with food and lefties.

The plan: to "run the blockade" and get the supplies into Gaza.

Horseshit. None of us harbored any illusions that we'd actually get into Gaza. There would be a protest, the border would remain sealed, and the food would be confiscated by the Israeli border guards and donated to ultra-Orthodox charities.

Here are your pictures.


Decorating the buses.


Decorating the cars.


CON-VOOOOOOOOY!


The WSF breeds strange bedfellows. Here are some Communists...


... some Palestinian nationalists...


... and some anarchists! Which of these is not like the other...


The ringleader. "1...2...3...4! We don't want your bloody war! We want real peace! US out of Middle East!"


Here comes the Left.






Here's what you see on the front page.


Here's what you don't see. Check out all the press on the right side of the picture.






A man with a sack of rice on his shoulder. It won't get into Gaza, anymore than I will.



A video of the scope of the crowd. There are over 1000 people here.






Yes, and no.


Uri Avnery, a highly articulate writer and Knesset member. He's a hero of the Left, and with good reason. This man, I believe, used to fight the British in Mandate Palestine, which makes him a former terrorist. I used to read his shit in university, and he must be one of the last Israelis left who doesn't believe that Jews have a monopoly on suffering.


A girl from Sderot, Hamas' favorite rocket target. She gave a short speech in Hebrew, and was given a rousing ovation.

That's all.

I'd like to head for the Galilee next, but it's raining all next week.

Friday Protest III

Today was a mess.

All the photos here belong to my travel buddy Jeremy "Yirmeyahu" Kroeker, all rights reserved. I have similar photos, but his are just... better. There's a couple of videos, too. Watch them.

I think I need to buy a real camera.


Internationals. Japanese tourists, anarchists, activists from the International Solidarity Movement, a Jew or two from www.activestills.org, and a Korean photographer named John-John who works for National Geographic and recently sold one of his photographs for $20,000. Despite this, John-John has holes in his shoes and is constantly glueing his patchwork camera back together.


Aw.


It's Friiii-day.


The razor wire usually stops the protesters 70-100m from the Israelis. This delays them long enough for the soldiers to lob off a little tear gas, pre-empting a physical confrontation. Alternately, it forces the protesters to wait for a few minutes and "calm down" until the razor wire can be cut down and dragged away. Today, those silly Jews didn't set it up properly. There was a huge gap in the wire on one side, and the whole mob surged through it as though the wire wasn't even there. Tempers were still a little hot when the two sides met, and that boded poorly for later.


The scrum began without much ado. The Israeli commander- the kid with the bullhorn- seemed a little taken aback. The lines swiftly degenerated into the usual mosh of shouting Semites and camera-clicking Japanese.


Halt, in the name of the Lord.


Let's call this guy "Shrek". He was a fucking juggernaut. I first encountered him when he smashed through the line like a battering ram, swatted me (and three others) backwards like a fly, and bellowed wordlessly at the wide-eyed Palestinians, all of whom scattered like pigeons. He had a voice that was a combination between a Howitzer going off and Thor's hammer collapsing a mountain.


He reminded me of this guy. I cannot even tell you how similar this scene was to my encounter with that Goliath. The expressions on their faces were exactly the same- as were those on mine and Sam Gamgee's.

Ruaidhri, one of my hostel-mates, took one look at this roaring minotaur of a Jew and scurried backward. "That bloke should not have a gun," he muttered incredulously. The Israelis used him as a prison guard for all the arrested Palestinians. He would stand there, gargantuan and imperious, watching over two or three suddenly-meek protesters.



The Leader has NOT been shot. Nor is he sleeping on the job. He's leading the protesters in a sit-down.


Chaos.


More chaos.


At this point, it starts to get scrappy. There's a lot of tussling and swearing. The Israelis were beginning to lose their tempers, and the neat lines had completely broken down. It was starting to look as if the Israeli commander had lost control of the situation; Palestinians were getting in his face and screaming, and protesters and press had free rein in front, behind, and between his boys.


And this is where I got a lesson in riot control. The Israelis must have written the book on it. It all took about five seconds. The soldiers reformed the line, pulled the pins on three or four stun grenades, and threw them into the midst of the crowd.

Those things are deafening. They do nothing but make a piercing *BANG*, and in retrospect were little more than firecrackers on steroids. But if you're standing next to one when it explodes- particularly if you've never heard one before- it sounds like the world just folded in upon itself.


Then they started with the tear gas grenades- which they can fire from gun-mounted launchers or throw by hand. This was the latter. The crowd scattered with fumes licking at their heels. Half were Japanese tourists who had no idea that they'd signed up for this. The Israelis were literally throwing those things at our heels.


Leon and Beardo, a couple of Asians from the ISM. Beardo, the Japanese guy with his hands raised, had a ten-inch beard and balls the size of grapefruits. He works with Arab kids in Hebron, and at one point, was the last person standing in front of the Israelis, with every Arab in Bil'in at least 20m away. At one point, he picked up a spent stun grenade, held it up to an Israeli's face, and asked: "How much?"


This might be a stun grenade, or a tear gas grenade. Who cares which? Both kinds make a loud noise and make you run away.


Recognize the guy with the green trim on a black jacket? In all my travels, there have been only three things that I've ever disliked: ouzo, Arabic music, and tear gas.


You can see the old Israeli hippie. You can just barely make out my hero, Muhammad Xavier, who's confined to a wheelchair after getting shot in the spine by the army at the beginning of the Second Intifada.


Ok, you win.


Jeremy was most proud of this shot. It's a stun grenade going off. The guy on the left with his ears covered, Leon, is with the ISM. He had one or two go off against his leg- I saw it. He admitted it hurt, but not badly, and indeed, the explosion hadn't left a mark on his jeans.


Things like this make me angry. The villagers hang out and watch foreigners get shot on their behalf. Admittedly, the risk to them is greater- the Israelis won't get in trouble for capping dune coons. But still. One Japanese was shot in the eye socket today. If he's lucky, he'll regain his sight in three weeks. I don't care if he was in Bil'in as a tourist. He might have lost an eye, and they sit there and have a picnic?

I've seen ISM kids get knee-dropped and shit-kicked and cough up lungs for Palestine. I don't care how biased or elementary this rant is... if I have to dodge rubber bullets so that my friends can learn about the Occupation from my photos, you can damn sure take the same risk.

Get. In. The. Fucking. Line.

I suppose I should mention, just for shits, that another Jap was injured when a rock thrown by a Palestinian clunked him in the head. One Palestinian was shot in the torso (rubber bullet), and was evacuated by ambulance. I think three Palestinians were arrested, including the Leader.


A stone thrower. This was after we had all retreated, and the protest leaders had called it off for the day. But here's part of the routine. Once "our side" has cleared out of the way, the kids start to sling rocks at the faraway Israelis...



...who respond by lobbing tear gas at us.


A couple of kids watch the fog unfold.


The Palestinians and Israelis exchanged stones and tear gas for so long that the commander ordered a general advance. Squads of soldiers came charging up the roads. They would then halt in a line and fire off a few rubber rounds at the whooping, retreating crowds of kids. Interspersed among them were the activists and Japanese tourists- and from a distance, they all look the same. Either that or the Israelis didn't care and were relishing the excuse to "accidentally" shoot a few of those pesky foreigners who shoved cameras in their faces every week.


This is a big "Oh, shit" moment. The shot was taken long afterwards, but I'm holding a rubber bullet that was fired at me and me alone. How do I know this?

(1) I was the only person in a twenty meter radius, between a retreating crowd of Palestinians behind me and a clump of press to my right. I was wearing an Arab scarf, so they must have thought I was a local.

(2) I heard the whistle of bullets whizzing by, and when I turned around, the gravel at my heels were spurting up in small impact explosions- pffft, pffft, pffft. So, they really do aim at your legs.


So I ran over to where the press had gathered, with their unmistakable cameras and canary-yellow jackets. Ah, press immunity. It was like a Halo shield bubble. I was suddenly, as far as Israelis were concerned, invisible and off limits.


Here they go, sprinting by, chasing the Palestinians.



Bang. Bang. Fish in a barrel.


Run, run away.


Souvenirs.

That's it.

See you next Friday.