The clinic in Barta'a 2

This week I finally started working in Barta'a. We were met by Harry the Chiropractic and Nazem the interpretor at the entrance to the village, after getting lost temporarily on a beautiful winding road, lush green pine forest on both sides reminiscent of a European, not Middle Eastern landscape.

Barta'a was divided after the war in 1949 into Jordanian Eastern Barta'a and Israeli Western Barta'a, separating families and friends. According to Nazem, while the rest of the Arab world were mourning their defeat in 1967, the residents of Barta'a were happy; the village was once again 'united'. Today, the reality for the people of East Barta'a is not so happy. As we were driving through the village, following the main market road on our way to the clinic, Harry pointed out the border between the two Barta'as. This is an unmarked invisible boundary for anyone coming from West Barta'a and anywhere else in Israel. The citizens of East Barta'a are confined to their side of the village as they need (hard to get) travel permits to enter Israel. Going to other parts of the Palestinian Authority (including the hospital in Jenin) is equally difficult since the erection of the security 'wall' and the presence of a military checkpoint.

Coming into the clinic I was overwhelmed by the warm reception we received. Harry and Nazem had both been away for several weeks and the local staff were overjoyed to see them again. As I started working with my first patient I began to really understand the philosophy of Middleway (http://middleway.org/English/index.html) , the charity running this project. This was an encounter between two human beings, one happy to offer his healing the other happy to receive it. An encounter untainted by politics or prejudice or fear, just two people sharing a sacred space (one happens to be Israeli the other Palestinian). And this experience was repeated throughout the day.

One of my patients, an elderly man, started giggling like a young boy as I started treating him telling me that he is so confident I will be able to help him, he will start arranging the 'Hafla' (a traditional banquet / feast) as soon as he leaves the clinic. Nazem seemed a bit worried and reminded the patient that when we discussed his prognosis I told him it would take several weeks before we could see any improvement.

The highlight of my first day was when Haj Mustafa, a 75 year old man gave me his keffiyeh. He came into the clinic complaining of being sick 'everywhere', producing a long list of illnesses, unable to decide on his treatment priorities, saying: 'just make me feel better'. Harry and I both did some work on the Haj, who emerged from the treatment euphoric (a 'side-effect' from acupuncture), put his keffiyeh on my head and walked around the clinic telling everyone how good he feels.

"Every single step of the way matters.
Every step makes a difference.
Every step is a step towards peace and reconciliation.
Every step reveals the deepest aspirations of men, women and children to live on Earth at peace with each other.
Every step confirms that the pilgrims on The Walk hear the cry of pain and grief of people in the Palestinian and Israeli community.
Every step is turning our back on fear and hate and turning our attention towards transformation and liberation for one and all.
There is no turning back. There is no sinking into the painful patterns of the past. The Walk is a movement forward, a step from the known to the unknown. The Walk reminds people of the direction to go in to resolve suffering.
Through silence, each participant bears witness to nobility, dignity and togetherness.
There are many forms of demonstration.
The Walk is the most powerful demonstration of all since it demonstrates love, inter-connection and spiritual presence.
The Walk is a deeply spiritual event having the power to turn the hearts of people towards the realisation of common humanity, common heritage and shared experiences.
The Walk is a deep expression of the Way and the fruits of the Way" (from the Middleway website)

Two months on, the children speak...

Click on the videos to see the children summing up their time here so far in their own words.

I've had a tough and tense week, gathering scraps of information about Max who was recovering from surgery and waiting to be moved to Sloan Kettering, the specialist cancer hospital in NYC. Max was diagnosed with Ewing's Sarcoma, a rare form of cancer, but for a whole (long) week we didn't know the extent (and therefore the prognosis) as the hospital in LA didn't perform any scans or examinations - they didn't want to expose Max to any unnecessary radiation as the hospital in New York would anyway do their own tests. He finally arrived in NY 3 days ago and by Thursday had full body scans. I was very glad and relieved to hear that no tumors were detected anywhere else and Max's team of Oncologists are quite optimistic about his chances for recovery. He now faces a grueling 7 months of chemotherapy (and surgery) which started today. I hope to go to New York soon to offer support to Max and my sister.

Max

On my return from the school journey I received a phone call from my sister Riva. Her youngest child, Max, her son, is very ill with cancer. My beautiful, sensitive, brilliant 16 year old nephew is lying in his hospital bed in Santa Monica, recovering from surgery on his lungs, waiting to be transfered to Sloan-Kettering hospital in New York. The shock from this news left me numb initially, now I'm hurting and worrying.

I pray and send my love to Max and his sisters, Torrie and Skye, his father Ed, his mother Riva and her husband Alan.

I spoke briefly to Max last night; he sounded strong and positive and said he was looking forward to writing a book on his ordeal once it's all over. InshaAllah.

Tiyul

Tiyul means a journey or trip. Two weeks ago, I volunteered to join and help Maya's school on their annual trip which took place on Tuesday and Wednesday this week. The theme for this year's journey was 'the relationship of humans to nature and their environment', it involved several hikes along rivers, wadis and ravines in the north of Israel. We had a great time and learnt a lot about wildlife and nature. Enjoy the pictures.

Jerusalem

A city of mythical proportions contrast and contradiction where luminous light and darkness, tranquility and aggression all combine, creating a vibrant home to people from every race, religion and creed.

We spent the last 5 days there, staying in Alan's house and it feels as though we have been to a retreat. Alan, my brother in-law is a philanthropist (running the Abraham Fund projects,http://www.abrahamfund.org/main/siteNew/index.php ) who set up a house in the beautiful neighbourhood of Yamin Moshe solely for guests. The house overlooks the walls of the old city and is one of the most beautiful homes we have ever been to.

The week of Succot is a traditional time of pilgrimage to Jerusalem, so the city was overcrowded and noisy but we had our haven to retreat to. I hope that the pictures below represent some of our impressions of the city, including a video of a Hassidic Hip Hop gig in the Jewish Quarter of the Old City.