Unicorns on Naksa Day


One of the projects I’m working to establish is an online, transmedia platform called, ‘All Unicorns Are Terrorists.’ Essentially, the idea is for AUAT to become a haven for multiplatform concepts which set out to provide a holistic or different representation of ethno-racial, religious and cultural groups that are regularly sensationalised by mainstream news media.

I know I may have harped on about this before but I really believe that we are all (to greater and lesser degrees) casualties of this industry which is masterful at dehumanising people and expert at reducing diverse groups of individuals into something uniform and often, scary. We are rarely given a glimpse of “the other”, that is three dimensional, real and truly affecting. Regardless of our geographic or cultural differences, we are all human beings with our own unique perspectives and dreams – and it is these distinctions that help us form connections. So in essence, the idea is to feature transmedia projects on AUAT that will transform this type of sensationalism into something engaging and informative, something that reminds us that there are always more experiences to be shared than feared. The first of these projects – which I have just started working on with a dear friend and colleague – will focus on some remarkable stories of remarkable Palestinian women. One of the inspiring women to be featured is Shireen Al-Araj, a community leader and activist from al Wallaje village – a magnificent slice of countryside which continues to be systematically stolen from the community who live there for illegal settlement expansion and separation wall “extensions”. Shireen regularly leads community demonstrations and non-violent initiatives which call for an end to these activities. Here’s a taste of this strong and fearless woman in action recently on Naksa Day (please forgive the heavy compression) :

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Hanging with the Shabab

Not that you’d know it from reading this blog, but over the past 2 and a half months, I’ve spent lots of time with lots of youth. More specifically, Bethlehem-based youth who are active in the “youth movement.” And, as you can imagine, leading up to the 15 May, the anniversary of Nakba which many this year were also dubbing the “Third Intifada,” there was quite a lot of discussion and concern about what to do and the best way to do it. My closest friend in the movement had yet another issue to contend with; her parents. They were worried about her safety, wanted her to focus on her studies (which is perfectly understandable, given she’s in her final year of high school) and essentially made her promise that she wouldn’t participate in the demonstrations – but more on that later.

Extremely distraught and depressed, she arrived at my house one afternoon with a noticeable pout. Leaning against the windowsill in the sun-room, there were only storm clouds in her eyes. She removed a cigarette from the pack, placed it behind her ear and started to vent.

“But I have to be a part of this – I want to do something meaningful for my country, I have to be a part of this movement on the 15th – there’s people all over the world showing their solidarity with us. Being there is more important to me than anything.” And then lighting the cigarette, she uttered those infamous four words exclaimed by teenagers everywhere, “It’s just not fair!”

After an hour or two of conversation we concocted a sort of ‘plan b’ – something that would ensure her contribution even if she could not be at a demonstration in person. Essentially she was going to call some of her other friends in the movement and encourage them to make a video with her to commemorate the 63rd anniversary of Nakba. She wanted to make a short, punchy vid in black and white, in both the Arabic and English languages, about life under Israeli occupation from a young, Palestinian perspective.

Only one of her friends was available so together the three of us spent that afternoon compiling a list of things that outrightly sucked about life in the occupied West Bank. The list as you can imagine was long. Too long in fact, for a successful Youtube video – so we then spent time prioritising and culling points until we were left with a strong list of 25 aspects of life under Israeli occupation that apart from being a blatant abuse of human rights and civil liberties, we were all – to put it bluntly – extremely sick of. We took some photos, sourced others, recorded the vocal track and edited the following video together. It went viral very, very quickly. Within the relatively short period of seven days it had received more than 50,000 views. Needless to say, my friend was over the moon. She felt that she had made a very real contribution but, like all determined teenagers, snuck out to the demonstration on the 15th, anyway.

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Bethlehem Pays Tribute To Vittorio Arrigoni

On Friday evening, Palestinians, international volunteers and solidarity activists came together in Bethlehem’s Manger Square to pay tribute to Vittorio Arrigoni who was found assassinated in Gaza earlier that day. Vittorio was a friend and brother to many and inspiration to all, he will not be forgotten. RIP.

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Interrogated by Fred Flintstone

Last week I was interrogated by Israeli Immigration; 3 hours in the morning between 7am and 10am at Fiumicino Airport in Rome and 2 and three quarter hours in the afternoon at Tel Aviv’s Ben Gurion Airport. After they discovered I had spent some time in the occupied Palestinian Territories, my laptop and camera were confiscated for “security reasons” and I was asked to strip to my briefs while a young woman in uniform padded me down. This in itself is nothing out of the ordinary. Especially if you’re Arab, Persian, or from a country where the dominant religion is Islam. If you’re a media-worker or lone traveller without a Jewish name, or someone with stamps in your passport from other Middle Eastern nations, it’s also standard to find yourself in the interrogation queue – that’s all normal. What was unusual about last weekend’s “security procedure” however, was that many of its principal actors conducted their incessant questioning dressed in costumes for Purim, a Jewish holiday kind of like Halloween.

While more and more travellers were ushered into the interrogation suite, staring at their shoes, the floor and somewhat wistfully at the Coca-Cola vending machine, Israeli security personnel shimmied by in lurid get-ups of the worst kind. Remember that suburban fancy dress hire place that smelt of mold but somehow managed to stay in business? The kind that had rows and rows of clothes racks sprouting unwashed nylons, bodysuits stained at the armpits and glass cabinets proudly showcasing face-masks, tiaras and leg warmers all sparkling with unnecessary sequins? Well, there’s obviously a franchise in Tel Aviv.

At Ben Gurion Airport, it was Fred Flintstone who ultimately called me into a room staffed by two incredibly serious looking women who unimaginatively had decided to dress up like Israeli Security. They sat unsmiling in their navy, public servant uniforms while Tinkerbell waltzed in and out, fluttering papers and occasionally offering me the stern glare of someone who doesn’t believe in fairies.

This was my fourth interrogation. The questioning is always carefully worded, unmistakably racist and above all, irritating. After the initial opener designed to ascertain the intention of your visit, probing quickly transcends to poorly concealed racial profiling. Within fifteen minutes, having justified my overnight stay in Dubai and brief trip to Jordan, I was asked whether I knew anyone from the middle east who was not Israeli living in Australia. This was followed by the copying down of Arab names listed in my cell phone and questions about my email and Facebook accounts. For the first time ever I wished that I had had Joe Hockey, Australia’s shadow Treasurer and son to a Palestinian father and Armenian mother, amongst my contacts. Once I had been “Googled” and it was clear that I had previously spent time in the occupied West Bank working on various media projects, questioning was escalated, my belongings were confiscated, my person was searched and my laptop and camera equipment scrutinised.

Contrary to common assumption, there is no way of entering occupied East Jerusalem, the West Bank or Gaza without entering Israel. The occupied Palestinian Territories are just that, occupied territories. They are not considered sovereign states, they are ever-diminishing pieces of land, home to an exhausted yet resilient indigenous Arab people, controlled by the occupier. There is no Palestinian Authority administered border control, no special stamp or visa that marks your visit. There are no Palestinian public servants or soldiers serving at checkpoints. All checkpoints regardless of whether they are located at the divide between Israel and the West Bank or within the Palestinian Territory itself – arbitrarily separating Palestinian village from village, are controlled by the Israeli Military. Even foreign workers based in non-governmental organisations stationed inside the occupied Territories have to apply to Israel for a visa enabling them to stay.

When it comes to a state like Israel, I understand the need for tight security. However the fact remains that there is nothing remotely illegal about visiting the occupied Palestinian Territories nor is there anything unlawful in maintaining friendships with people of an Arab background be they Australian, American, Egyptian, Syrian or God forbid, Palestinian. Beyond initial amusement and disbelief, it must be said that the surreal dress-code worn by some Israeli security officials did absolutely nothing to make the experience any less upsetting or intrusive. In fact, in many ways this pretense of festivity, simply served to highlight just how everyday and standardised this form of invasive scrutiny has become.

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Postcard from Palestine

I recently wrote a feature article called, Pop-culture Postcard From Palestine, for the brand-spanking new, online magazine, Wordy Mofo.

I wanted to use the story to communicate the intensity and rare beauty that exists in the occupied Palestinian Territories – two attributes which are immediately intoxicating and at times overwhelming.

It’s a place that makes every experience and interaction feel that bit more fervid. There truly is a unique energy there that perhaps exists as a result of the troubling and unjust circumstances in which people are forced to live, or perhaps the place and people have always been like that. But regardless of its source, this spirit makes the quirks and colours of the occupied Palestinian Territories all the more vivid and unforgettable.

The article is filled to the brim with some of the remarkable characters, sights and exceptional experiences this special place has to offer and provides an interesting insight into what it’s like to live there.

It starts like this:

One of the things I’ve learned to like about life here is the uncertainty. Not everyone feels the same way, some need a plan and daily rituals for security; they like that the bakery has the same cream buns in the window every morning, that the girl with her hair tied back sits in the same bus seat each afternoon on her way home from work. But when you spend time in the occupied Palestinian Territories,  having no control over your future is frustrating and unfair but also strangely liberating. It forces you to live in the moment. You prioritise and re-prioritise daily. You keep your mobile phone handy, always. You find that dreaming is both difficult and necessary.

I’d love for you to read the rest  – you can do so for free, by visiting:

http://www.wordymofo.com/?xml=Wordy_Mofo&iid=41954&startpage=71

The interface was designed for iPad, but even if you’re using a PC, the philosophy remains the same; to enlarge the text simply click anywhere on the screen and use the mouse to move the page wherever it is you need.  Enjoy!

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No Thanks CNN, I’ll Do It My Way

Photo by Mohammad Al Azzeh

The topic, “promoting Palestine” is easily one of my all-time favourites. If there were an Olympic medal category which awarded gold to the individual who could go on and on and on, about the same point, without coming up for air – I would be a likely contender. Why? Well, because it’s such rich terrain; and here in the occupied Territories we have so much work to do!

The first time I visited Palestine many of my friends and colleagues were confused as to the whereabouts of this locale. “Pakistan?” they cooed. “Don’t you mean Israel?” they questioned. A few had heard about Gaza but weren’t quite sure how Bethlehem, Jenin, Nablus, Hebron and Ramallah fitted into the picture. When I told them about the occupied West Bank, their eyes widened and eyebrows arched. I realised pretty quickly that people who are not already engaged in political activism or indeed haven’t visited ‘The Holy Land’ themselves, understand very little about who Palestinians are and what occupation means.

Mainstream western media is reactionary. Beyond covering a clash here and another clash there, media does very little to inform everyday people living in the United States, United Kingdom, Australia and Europe about day-to-day life outside their immediate cultural sphere.

I went clubbing the other night in Bethlehem. The dance-floor was awash with Christian, Muslim and Atheist Palestinians shaking their tail feathers to a mix of Arabic and Western musics. When I got home in the wee hours of the morning, I chatted to a friend on Skype who was amazed to learn not only that discos exist here in the occupied Palestinian Territories, but that Palestinians come in all shapes and sizes, political and spiritual persuasions. Mainstream media is masterful at dehumanising people – regardless of how vibrant or diverse a culture may be.

Growing up in Australia in the 1980’s and 1990’s, I got to see a number of stories about Iraq on the nightly news bulletins. After filling out my maths homework and hiding the dreaded cauliflower beneath the napkin, my family would turn on the television and we’d watch the news together. It was clear from the way the news packages were produced, that Saddam was the bad guy, and that the people living there had absolutely nothing in common with me. I’d never met an Iraqi before so my sole interaction with an entire nation of people was those 3 minutes of sensationalism. The camera capturing only that which looked exotic and foreign; the reporter donning a hard-hat and press vest, shaking in the aftermath of an explosion as dust settled behind him. But when Salam Pax started his now infamous blog in 2003, the walls of this construct came a-crumbling down. Suddenly everyday people living all over the world were connecting with an Iraqi. And guess what? He was human, like them. Who would have thought it, eh?

This type of democratisation of media heralds exciting possibilities for Palestinians. The advancement of the world wide web has enabled users around the world to access information and ideas that have been previously unavailable. And, in turn, this same platform serves as an effective medium for individuals from a variety of circumstances to produce content & communicate to as big an audience as they desire. Sure, blogging and social media are a hell of a lot of work, but if you’ve got the muscle, the will and the know-how, the audience is limitless.

There’s no shortage of political or news-based blogs about Palestine, many of which I’ve bookmarked and read daily. Some offer eye-witness testimonies about the reality of what’s happening here on the ground, others are unashamedly didactic and preach to a select audience of likeminded thinkers. Without question there’s a place for it all and an audience too; both offer a vital alternative to what’s delivered by the majority of news sources. But, it’s also time to start promoting Palestine and Palestinians outside of the political arena and re-humanise a people who, thanks to mainstream media, are only that three-minute sensationalised caricature to many in the West.

Now is the time for everyday Palestinians to get busy. And to date, there’s been some brilliant projects; Gaza Mom (www.gazamom.com) is one of my favourites. It is a blog penned by a journalist and mother from Gaza City. She and her family are currently living in the United States, unable to return or even visit Gaza due to the siege. Her blog is extremely effective as it marries human stories about everyday life with the reality of the political situation. Telling stories this way uses the shared human experiences strategically to unite reader and blogger. This means that the differences that do occur due to human rights abuses, siege and occupation, can be interpreted in an empathic space by the reader. She is not a statistic but a human being in a bad situation.

With this in mind, in November 2008 I established Radio Lajee (www.radiolajee.com) through the Lajee Center at Aida Camp, Bethlehem. The project provides interested Palestinian individuals with the resources and skills required to produce their content their way for a Western audience. To date, a bunch of refugee youth aged between 11 and 26 years have produced content for the website – and its diversity is truly exciting. There are stories ranging from Palestinian cooking segments to radio plays, to photographic slide-shows, to confessional yarns about their lives and experiences.

The eclectic nature of the work they are doing is extremely effective – not only is it accessible to individuals in the West who are afraid of a strictly political discourse, but it also showcases the richness of Palestinian culture, bringing a human face to this people and conflict.

The media business is an industry with strict objectives, guidelines and money to be made like any other. But thanks to more accessible media tools and the willingness of its audience to change their habits, everyday individuals with the language skills now have the ability to bypass this controlled arena. They have the power to transform that three-minutes of sensationalism to something three-dimensional, real and truly affecting.

Daz Chandler is an Australian media producer with a background in marketing, film, broadcast journalism and content strategy. The online project she’s been facilitating with young Palestinian refugees can be found at www.radiolajee.com

This article was first published in the November 2010 issue of the monthly magazine, ‘This Week In Palestine‘.

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Coming Home In The Holy Land

Whenever I spend time away from my country of origin, I’m reminded of how in so many ways, home is very much a state of mind.

For the last four months, Bethlehem has been my home.

Here’s a very short video showing the tail-end of my daily commute back to my apartment not far from central Bethlehem.

Za’atar, a once abandoned street dog, is there to greet me upon my return as is the view of ancient, terraced land – sandy and mystical, as well as the not so mysterious illegal settlement of Har Homa.

Featuring music by Boards of Canada.

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Slackarse Blogger

So to say this blog thing hasn’t really worked out as planned is a bit of an understatement. I haven’t bothered to keep you informed of anything at all and I’ve been here in the Holy Land since July. And it’s not like there’s nothing going on here. There’s been lots to talk about; weddings, firecrackers, Ramadan, puppies, war, oud fragranced soft soap, the peace process, star wars bed sheets, soldiers with lollipops, talk of intifada 3, checkpoints and taxi drivers and ramzi burger icecream. Confused? Well if I get around to it, I’ll explain later. But then again given my track record I wouldn’t hold your breath. Sure I’ve been busy, but I’ve also been drinking a lot of sweet tea at locals’ abodes. And no – that is not some lame analogy for sex. I’m a married woman and I miss my beautiful man immensely. But in all seriousness, Palestine is one of those places where you end up drinking a hell of a lot of tea because you spend an awful lot of time visiting families. Here an hour doesn’t cut it. A standard visit takes at least three and even then as you edge towards the door you’re told “it’s early.” So yeah, to sum up I’ve been busy working, drinking tea (here it has 8 teaspoons of sugar and mint or sage leaves) and pining for loved ones. And at some point in the middle of it all I kind of ended up sitting at a desk opposite a Palestinian bloke who calls himself ‘Danny’, chatting to him about a new easy listening radio station of his called ‘Cool FM’. And now I have a show. It’s called ‘Algila with Daz’ – algila is the term Palestinians use for waterpipe or sheesha – and it takes place weekly on Saturdays at 1pm. It is quite possibly the most surreal thing I’ve ever done. And hence, I’m loving it. So even if I continue to be a slackarse blogger, I can at the very least post the audio from my weekly show here. It goes for an hour and stylistically is easy listening fare with a few interviews thrown in – oh yeah, and I get to pick the music which is ace.

http://algilawithdaz.podomatic.com/

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It’s The Little Things

I arrived. I’m back in Bethlehem –  home to the magi, religious pilgrims, dear friends and Israeli Occupation. So I went shopping for a few “essential” odds and ends and returned home from the local mart with two bags filled with most of the usual suspects;  a bog roll economy pack (thanks Mum you’ve trained me well), a few fresh eggs, a block of white cheese, some to-die-for chilli hummus and (now brace yourself, because this is the exciting part) – an 800ml bottle of soft soap. Ok, so that in itself is nothing out of the ordinary – soft soap can be found in pretty much every dusty village north of Timbuktu. But before your collective groans ricochet across the ether, I’ll have you know that this was no everyday hand-wash. This particular brand promised to leave the palms and finger-tips fragranced in none other than the scent of the Oud.

Yes, the Oud. Now for those of you who don’t know, the Oud is one of the most magnificent musical instruments ever. Period.  Beyond its glorious physique comes a sound so rich and emotive that it’s enough to make you want to buy a weird-arse grocery item. On the walk back to the camp I found myself swimming happily in a creative synaesthesic coma.  Keys in the door, I raced inside the small apartment and with the gusto of an ‘out and proud’ obsessive compulsive, I washed my hands. So what does it smell like? Does the fragrance evoke tunes of desert romances and Arabian nights? Not exactly, but it is quite pleasant. Think of a very heavy, heady musk, add a pinch or two of woody something-or-other and a slight hint of freshly painted sinus congesting varnish and you’ve pretty much got it.

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Why Mince Words?

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