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)