The Wall

They say there are two sides to any story

In Palestine there are two sides to a wall.

On one side bare concrete and barbed wire – the side of the military industrial complex. On the other side art and humanity.

I have seen both sides of The Wall.

Outside the bus window on the road from Jerusalem to Ramallah, The Wall looms menacingly over a landscape of cement, bitumen and gated communities.

Inside the bus I sit among Palestinians. The warmth of our shared humanity gives us strength. Despite the hushed silence I somehow feel better, if not safer, among others.

Sadists that they are, the Israelis know we do not want to die alone. Their infamous “Where’s Daddy?” AI digital tool, deployed in Gaza, tracks the target by drone until he is home with his family. Then bombs everyone.

Another as-yet-unnamed Israeli killing cult is the mobile-phone ultimatum they deploy in Lebanon and Gaza.

Ali’s phone rings. He answers. “Do you want to die with your family, Ali, or do you want to die alone?” a voice with the tell-tale guttural Hebrew accent asks in Arabic.

At times the man will not tell his family about the call, saying he is going out and will be back soon. Otherwise they will hold him and ask to die together. But he will go. His children will hear the nearby sound of the drone and the explosion… and know.

How long before our phones ring too?

I carry a brand-new phone with me, empty of my life and contacts. I also carry a luggage tracker I share with a friend back home. But I am the luggage that may get lost.

The Jerusalem bus terminal is just outside my hotel. The manager insists I first go to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and light a candle before boarding. Someone from the hotel escorts me to the right bus stand. She finds a young Palestinian woman who speaks English to be my guide. I am to expect Israeli soldiers to board the bus, inspect our bags and our identification papers. Or worse, we may all have to get off the bus while they search inside and out.

Thanks to the candle at the church, the Chinese oracle, the tarot cards, the many prayer beads people finger on the bus, or sheer luck, we are not stopped. Israeli soldiers do not board, and we drive through to the other side of the Wall into the West Bank.

It is another world: teeming with life, bumper-to-bumper, horns honking, roadside stalls coloured with oranges and ripe tomatoes, and the Wall as a backdrop adorned with murals of village life.

Is it the local art that inspired Banksy to paint his wall murals in Bethlehem, Abu Dis and Ramallah — windows opening out onto gardens; children clutching balloons and floating up into the clouds beyond the range of Israeli snipers?

Israel is a leader in the global defence market. It advertises its weapons as battle-tested and proven. Palestine is the lab.

Israel designed Trump’s wall on the Mexican border, modelled on its own apartheid walls in Palestine, to keep out asylum seekers.

In a worst-case scenario, writer Antony Loewenstein (The Palestine Laboratory) foresees high demand for Israeli walls come the climate cataclysm.

A fortune stands to be made by walling out the dying human race from the few remaining rivers and wells reserved for the mega rich.

For now it walls in humanity.

Recollections on my ride from Woy Woy to Gosford Big Ride for Palestine