Live like a Narnian.
I’m here again. Back in Norway, and Simon and Garfunkel are coincidentally singing:
Hello darkness, my old friend,
I’ve come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
I arrived safe back in Norway today, after a thorough but surprisingly friendly security check at Ben Gurion Airport (blond hair and blue eyes are an asset in the world, but less is obviously more, according to the Israeli security officers, who always gives me the highest security score on the threat scale, while Gjermund and Marie never face any trouble).
As i predicted, it feels strange to be back. Today at the train from Olso Airport to Stokke, where we are doing our debrief, I overheard some conversations by people as old as I am. I felt like an alien. My body is in Norway, but my mind is set on Palestinian fight for peace with justice. When the conductor woke me up to let me know that we had to change from train to bus, as there had been an accident on the route to Stokke, I instantly assumed that the uniformed man wanted to see my passport. I was wrong, he wanted me out of the train, in a rude manner that is carried out just as well by Israelis (which are not well known to show hospitality, but I think most of them actually are quite hospital) and Norwegians (we also have a hard time showing hospitality). As I did during the rather normal security check at the airport in Vienna, I felt a contempt for unnecessary rude people in uniform, and answered him in a way that I often even have a hard time to justify when I’m talking to the brainwashed soldiers at the checkpoints in the West Bank. I hope that this is an attitude that will leave me pretty soon.
In Norway I have already used more water by taking a shower, than I would do in a week in occupied Palestine, the internet is faster, and I keep looking up news from Ma’an, IMEMC, Haaretz, al-Jazeera and BBC, streaming videos of the recent non-violent demonstrations to halt the building of the Wall, that still is being erected as a symbol on how inhuman humans sometimes are. We are staying in an old beautiful farm with log houses in the Norwegian woods. I enjoy the facilities, but also I couldn’t care less. It’s just a dream. My real life isn’t here. It’s in Palestine. I’m afraid I will feel like this for a while.
I just slept hours on the sofa (as I didn’t get much sleep travelling from Beit Sahour to Stokke), and had the strangest dream of Palestine, where all my Palestinian friends and colleges appeared in the strangest roles, as the strangest characters. I woke up sweaty and confused, and found myself in this unreal place: Norway.
Was Palestine just a dream? Was none of this real, no occupation, no abuse of power, and no weekly fights for justice? Did it ever happened? Looking out the window I have a hard time finding traces of oppression. If there is such a thing as occupied Palestine, refugees, ethnic cleansing, apartheid, and a wall, why are we sitting here? Why aren’t we doing anything to end this madness as I am writing these words?
Palestine is like Narnia. I fell a sleep on this couch and woke up minutes later. Nothing had changed. Not visibly at least. But I have changed. Will people believe me when I tell them about Palestine? Will my friends believe me? Will they care? Will they question my rationality? My sanity? Will they listen? Will they believe me when I tell them of heroes like Doctor Mazin Qumsiyeh, or all the other good people? What will I do if they don’t show the same passion to end the insanity as I have? How will I react if I find out that ending the daily violations of human rights in occupied Palestine isn’t the most important agenda in my friends lives? What will I do? In a year, will my mind be just as set on going back to Palestine, to feed myself with stories to tell, as it is today?
I’m going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn’t any Narnia.
— C.S. Lewis, The Silver Chair
The photo is from a trip to Nablus. The only set of photography that I didn’t erase from my computer, in fear of what the Israeli security at the airport would do if they found out I’ve been travelling with an open mind in the West Bank.
2 comments on “Live like a Narnian.”
Leave a Reply
Blog at WordPress.com. Theme: Duotone by Automattic.
Hei.
Takk for et sterkt innlegg. Velkommen tilbake.
Takk for eit flott innlegg! Eg sit her med tåre i augo, har fulgt bloggen gjennom tida di i Beit Sahour og funne mykje inspirasjon til både tanke og handling (håpar eg) i den. Eg kan ikkje setja meg inn i kva du kjenner no, men eg kan skjønna ein brøkdel av det, og forstår det er hardt.