My first experience of the Palestinian occupation was in the fifth or sixth grade. I grew up in Dubai, in the United Arab Emirates, where politics wasn’t such a huge part of everyday life. My parents, though incredibly active politically in their youth, did everything possible to shield me and my brother from politics as children. I would always want to watch the news with them but they wouldn’t let me…

There are many terrible answers to the question “where do you stand,” and the worst I can ever remember giving was “in Jerusalem.” Jerusalem? I’ve heard of that place before. An imaginary place. It lies directly between the edge of reality and the end of time. It lies at the centre of the universe. How strange to end up so far away. I’d just gotten off the bus from somewhere that seemed a lot closer.

It was about a year ago that we, both Canadian medical students at the University of Montréal, decided to venture out into the world of the Palestinian-Israeli conflict. One of us, Ramzy W. is a Canadian born Palestinian Christian, and the other, Mahli B. is a French Quebecer. Our vision was simple: spend one summer volunteering in Palestine, give of ourselves what we can and absorb as much as we can about this part of the world. This small step turned into many and on June 7, 2005 we were both in the air on our way to somewhat uncharted territories that left a lasting mark on our lives.

This is my third visit to Israel, but this time is different. This time I want to get down to the bottom of things and to understand the political situation to the best of my ability. I am seeking the truth, but as I seek truth in a country that constantly shifts and is run by people with opposing ideologies, I find that my perspective changes on a daily basis. I have a deep love for Israel, but I know she is imperfect. Therefore, I am striving to make peace with that contradiction…

Eight years ago I dropped out of school and went to Israel to experience the magic of the Jewish homeland, my Jewish homeland. Things didn’t progress as smoothly as I expected. I got kicked out of my Kibbutz and wound up working as a dishwasher and a line cook in an upscale restaurant in Tel Aviv. But I was young and adaptable…

A few years ago a small group of youth met from the Progressive Zionist, Jewish, youth movement ‘Hashomer Hatzair’ and the Arab youth group Caya. I may have been hoping to make new friends, or I may have been hoping to find out that I have common political ground with the “other side”. Looking back on it now, I am not sure that we had any one goal in our minds. The following is my recollection of our first meeting.

On September 18, 2005, the Palestine House had a cultural picnic in Mississauga and celebrated it as a fundraiser for Palestinian children. It was a time for getting together with family and friends. I invited an Italian friend and a Barbadian friend to come along and, as I realized later, to “watch.” There were two underlying themes to this event.

On my last day in Palestine, just before leaving, I went back to visit one
of my favorite spots in Jerusalem. Located in the Western Wall plaza,
there is this place you can stand where the shining gold of the Dome of
the Rock arches ever so slightly over the holy wall. Seeing the two
religious sites juxtaposed against each other is breathtaking. It’s a
visual symbol of how close two societies in conflict are to each other,
yet it’s depressing because they’re so far apart.

Arabs have no one to blame but themselves for the plight of the Palestinians

By Michael Rom

At first glance, Peki’in is a tourist’s dream. The Galilean village is situated on the side of a hill, overlooking a green valley, from which it takes its Arabic name, al-Buqe’a (little valley). In the centre of the Galilean village is an ancient spring, ringed by cafes and restaurants. A little ways north of the spring is a cave, said to be the spot where the 2nd century kabbalist Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai hid for fourteen years from Roman soldiers. According to legend, although the great rabbi subsisted only on carobs from an adjacent tree, and water from the spring, he was able to compose the Zohar, the seminal text of kabbalah.