Environmentalism strikes again

(Picture of the Jordan Valley from some random website)


Apparently Jordan's Queen Rania has made a commitment to transform at least 5% of Jordan's farms to be organic by 2014. This is great news.

Many criticize Jordan's royal couple for being weak leaders who take on projects and policies that aim to please the US and remain as neutral as possible. I often agree. But putting all of that aside (I'm not feeling up to) I think any move that points the country to a more environmentally sound direction is a good one. Some of the most delicious fruit I've ever had has been in Jordan, grown in the Jordan Valley. Wouldn't it be great to know that this fruit was grown with minimal harm done to the environment? Plus, it seems that Israel (especially some of the settlements in the West Bank) is the front runner for organic food production in the region. It would be nice to see some competition from it's neighbors.

I hope that this is the beginning of a slightly more "green" Jordanian culture, but I have to be doubtful. My American version of environmentalism and dealing with droughts while living in Colorado entails strategies such as, "if it's yellow it's mellow, if it's brown flush it down," taking military showers (turning off the water when you're scrubbing down), or bringing my own bags to the market. From my experience living there, a culture of modesty, lack of exposure, and just plain ol' habit trumps the green friendly lifestyle. I'm fairly certain a typical middle-class Jordanian family would have a hard time, a very hard time, not flushing every time they pee. But every Jordanian knows that there's almost no water and from what I've seen, they do try to use it sparingly. Would new water-saving green habits pick up in this country, and it's just a marketing issue? Not sure.

Get over it

This is my angry post.

I live here because I want to understand the details of this conflict. What is so darn special about these ancient sites, the history, this place, and why isn't there peace? Tackling these issues is awe-inspiring and completely exhausting. I'm trying to think of an analogy for how it makes me feel. Maybe like being on one of those booths with dollar bills flying around, and you're supposed to grab as many as you can. And sure, it probably feels great who you get a handful, but then you instantaneously realize that there is still soooo many bills to get, and there is no way you will get them all. It's both really rewarding, but you still leave knowing that you didn't get them all, and wishing you could have done better. Intellectually, that's how this place is. It can be addictive, because every issue leads you to 20 more sub-issues, and one can't help but become totally fascinated and overwhelmed.

That is...until, like the title of this blog, I feel stuck between a rock and a hard place. It's like hearing 30 people yelling at you all at the same time, and there is no way to reconcile what they are saying. And then, I simply run out of stamina. My interest and compassion for all of the people and forces at work comes to a screeching, impulsive halt. My mind becomes overwhelmed and then my body, a feeling in my chest kicks in, and I just want to scream, "oh, why can't you all just get OVER it!?"

For whatever reason, this was my reaction after reading this article in the Times today:

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/05/10/world/middleeast/10jerusalem.html?pagewanted=1

It's about how the Jerusalem municipality is planning to essentially take over the city and usurp Palestinian land for historical park, all with the argument that there is archeologically-proven Jewish history on this land. It's been the center of Jewish life for 3000 years, and by God, we will keep it that way!

Puh-leeeaaasse. I understand preserving archeological remains for its own sake, but this ego, this "stake" that the Israeli conservatives have invested in this issue makes me sick. Peoples' lives, their homes, their land, their children's futures, their dignity are all put at stake because a minority of conservative, religious Israeli Jews just don't know how to share the sand box with the other kids in the class.

Sure, Jerusalem might have been the capitol of the Jewish nation way back when, but neither this land nor the Jewish people are the same as 2000 years ago. For a myriad of reasons not to be belittled (Holocaust, anti-semitism, etc) Jews are scattered all over the world now, and don't really have an interest in moving to the militaristic, rude, and arrid eretz yisrael.

A slew of quotes comes to mind that we often learn at a young age.."change is the only constant," "times they are a changin'," or yes, even the ever-faithful "sharing is caring." Hell, just go type in "change quotes" in google, and you realize that almost every great thinker in the history of the world has realized that change is not only a good thing, but inevitable.

It is time for Israel to get it's head out of the sandbox, graduate from kindergarten, and realize that nothing stays the same.

Palestinian festival- an oxymoron?

One of the best parts of the warm seasons are the reasons people find to hold festivals. In the states, I'm most acquainted with music festivals. My most recent being Telluride Bluegrass last summer, which was faaaantastic. Here, it's less about camping out, barbeque, and beer, and more about local cultures that well..just need to be celebrated. A shining example of this is the Artas Lettuce festival that I attended last weekend. Located in the small Palestinian town of Artas in the West Bank, next to Bethlehem, this festival was sooo great. The actual festivities were sort of anticlimactic- many speeches in Arabic about Palestinian agrarian pride and then some student dancing performances- but the quirkiness of the lettuce-ness was great. Instead of slushies, cotton candy, or cokes that kids normally run around with at this kind of this, there were children everywhere with huge pieces of lettuce in their hands, munching away.

I have recently lost my camera (stolen), so I have no photos of my own that show you the town, which is nestled in this tiny canyon, or of the homes that reach up the hills and fields of produce packed in the heart of the valley, or of adorable kids holding lettuce leaves bigger than their heads, the huge church in the center of the town with a field of crops at its base, or of either of the two families that invited me for coffee in their homes. But, hopefully you can try to imagine :)
Here are two photos of the town that I found online:





But wait- this festival was in a Palestinian town in the West Bank, so there is of course an upsetting political dimension that I cannot leave out. Directly next to it, on the other side of a ridge is the Jewish Israeli settlement of Efrat. As the separation wall is soon to be built in the area, the plans threaten to include much of what is Palestinian-owned land in Artas into the area of Efrat, on the other side of the future wall. On a tour of Artas with a man who owns a chunk of the disputed land, he told us the details of his fights with the IDF and settlers. Stories of him being beaten and pinned to the ground by a soldier standing on his neck, lengthy interrogations, various protests and ensuing violence. His battle sucks.

When the man speaking to us mentioned the name of the neighboring settlement, Efrat, I immediately thought of my Passover seder. That amazing, lovely family that organized the Passover dinner in Tzfat that I attended lives there. This man, who speaks of getting his neck stood on by soldiers, is being tormented by the impending threat of my lovely passover family taking his land.

Of course! Of course that's what's happening. Because nothing here is simple. There is no such thing as a just a passover seder, or just a spring festival. It is a passover dinner run by extremist settlers, and a spring festival that celebrates lettuce produced on land that will most likely be taken from its farmers before next spring comes.

And just when I thought I was having fun...