It's been difficult to write lately. The combination of fasting taking a toll on my whole body combined with my "normal" complete investment in this life, this work, this camp, this organization and, in many ways, this besieged world have left me with questions, with little mental strength and with many frustrations. The organization is going through a bit of a difficult period these days, it has grown so big that, as it is in any organization, the administration has become much more complicated. I will leave it at that for now but it has been a trying time though as one of the co-directors put it, "It is during these difficult times that we really can learn about our members and see what positive things they can draw from a crisis."

I have been looking farther into my reflections written on October 3 rd about the almost contagious struggle and occupied feelings that have been passed on to me while spending basically 24 hours a day, 7 days a week for the last 11 weeks in the refugee camp. While these feelings still affect me in ways that I am struggling with, I still have a clear mind about the two sides.

I went to Jerusalem today and had an extra 45 minutes to roam around before getting in a taxi to head to the airport to retrieve my mothers (both my real mother and one of my adopted mothers who I have known for over 25 years.)Yes, yes, my mother is here and that is a whole other story, a good thing, as she wanted to see first hand what I had been writing about. I, at least, have inspired two people to visit this part of the world. I stepped off the blue and white Mercedes #21 bus from Bethlehem near the Damascus gate, one of the entrances to the Old City. The market in and in front of the gate was in full swing, multicolored parasols covering plank board tables filled with fruits, vegetables, plastic footwear, cell phone accessories, etc. reminiscent of the market streets I use to wander in Guatemala to clear my head on busy days. It was almost as if I had stepped back into that world for a moment, only the dress of the people and the languages floating around were different. Women in their hijab's easily morphed in my imagination into women in traditional Guatemalan cortes and quipiles. The first few moments of sifting my way through the market were a welcome familiar breath of fresh air.

And then I came upon the Via Dolorosa (see picture), an unexpected image blazoned upon my eyes. Down this sacred way came a group of people, I couldn't tell what country they were from but they were obviously visitors, carrying a 4 foot by 2.5 foot wooden cross on their shoulders. I stopped and quietly watched this procession pass before turning onto the path from which that had just come.

Later, after surprising my mother at the airport since I had feigned that I would not be able to make the trip out and would just send a car, we flew by the WALL. In many places this part of the WALL, technically inside Israel is quite pretty, the tiled sides a stark contrast to the chipped grey grafittied parts that I am used to seeing neared to Bethlehem. The driver talked about how the WALL was made less obtrusive and cold in this area. I also spoke later with another American living and working here at Ibdaa and he talked about his latest trip to Israel where he met many people who just don't know about the world on the other side of the WALL. My question still is this, do they choose not to know or is it just hidden from them behind the WALL? Out of sight, out of mind. My friend also talked about the WALL being so high in some places that you just can't see what's on the other side of it. Could it be a combination of the two questions written above, they choose not too and are sheltered from it. I almost want to call the settlements that dot the hillsides SHELTERS.

All of this comes back to my previous thoughts on seeing this other side of the WALL, on passing through the checkpoints (I went through 4 today). I had another conversation about it earlier as well, I have the opportunity to see this side of the WALL, to reflect upon what it means for me to pass through a checkpoint with an American passport. Yet there are still so many who don't have this opportunity, who suffer either from occupation or from what I can only term as disillusion, from one side of the WALL to the other...

Yet again, I ask the question...What can I do with all of this?