Downtown Ramallah
Photo: Nadav Neuhaus
Freedom in Ramallah
Unlike many Israeli, US cities, West Bank town of Ramallah seems fear-free
There was something about Ramallah that I loved but couldn't put my finger on.
I'd never been in the West Bank before. I was in the Middle East as part of the Israeli-Palestinian comedy tour. A group of stand-up comics, or as Israelis say, "Standupists," trying to end the conflict with jokes. We were staying in east Jerusalem, which is sort of West Bank-lite.
My Palestinian/American friend and fellow comedian Ray Hanania wanted to take us to meet his relatives in the West Bank city of Ramallah, so my wife and I jumped at the chance. We considered it a fine adventure, although our Israeli friends thought it a foolhardy risk. They told us that even if they wanted to visit Ramallah, which they didn't, Israelis were forbidden from crossing into the West Bank.
Ramallah is definitely a Muslim city. The hair, ears and chests of almost all the women were covered by the traditionally wrapped Muslim headscarf, the hijab, and most of them also wore the jilbab, a tailored, almost floor-length jacket. It's actually a pretty cool garment that makes even women who are a bit chunky look tall, trim and elegant. And once I got used to the lack of visible female flesh, sort of like my eyes adjusting to Islamic light, Ramallah revealed itself as a seriously toddlin' town.
Its central feature is Manara or Lamp Square, a theme-park sized, Muslim version of London's Piccadilly Circus. At the center of the square, which is of course circular, are four, outward-facing, stone lions. All around the circular square is, in anybody's language, shopping heaven. Fancy men's clothiers, cheap toys, street hawkers, beggars, men selling cups of cold iced tea, internet cafes, computer stores, ladies lingerie - you name it and you can buy it in beautiful downtown Ramallah and at very reasonable prices I must say.
My wife, a coffee snob, bemoaned that in Israel Starbucks had failed and that in the whole of east Jerusalem there seemed nary a decent grind to be found. But in Ramallah she found a mini-chain called Stars and Bucks. It's circular green logo and similar fonts would probably cause heartburn to that Seattle franchise. But at a Stars and Bucks you can have your soy latte, a plate of shawarma, and smoke a bowl of fruity Arab tobacco. Ramallah is progressive enough that women, as well as men, smoke openly and easily in public. The town is obviously a hangout for the reform Muslims.
Back on the Israeli side we regaled our friend with tales of Palestine. We told of how, in Ramallah, they speak not of Israelis but "Israeliens." But that no one we talked to said they hated them. "The Israeliens are human beings" was the mantra, "They are our cousins." The attitudes toward Israel that we heard were exactly like those we've encountered toward the US everywhere in the world. "Love the people, love the country, despise the international policies." To which our Israelein friends, almost to a person, responded: "You're lucky you got out alive."
Doors left open in mid-day
But it was only after we got out of the Middle East altogether and returned home to Chicago that I figured out what I loved so much about Ramallah - the city is free of fear. In Jewish west Jerusalem there are guards with guns everywhere - every store, every salon, every restaurant, every school has an armed security presence. Like a whole country full of airports.
Here in the US even before 9/11 there was always a kind of low-level fear, of crime, of accidents, of other Americans. But in Ramallah people leave their doors open, not unlocked, open in the middle of the day, while they run errands. And it's not that Ramallah life is carefree.
Like Jerusalemites, people in Ramallah live under a constant threat of violence. Residents told us that at any moment the police might vanish, a sign that the Israelis soldiers are coming. Israeli helicopters can appear from seeming nowhere and fire missiles onto busy streets. One home we visited had its wall accidentally knocked in by an Israelien tank.
We were in Ramallah when the US and Israeli-funded civil war was being waged in Gaza and the violence threatened to spread to the West Bank. Yet despite the dangers, in Ramallah moods were light, faces were open and smiles were a dime a dozen.
"The Israeliens are lions, we are rabbits," a barber told us, fatalistically. "It is natural that they should kill us." However they rationalize it, the Palestinian we talked to had decided not to live in fear. Thus, unlike so many American and Israeli cities, the air in Ramallah smells like freedom.
A shopkeeper near Manara Square told us, "Ramallah is a free city. Here, you can do whatever you want." From what I saw he was right, and so what I want to do is visit Ramallah again and bring with me some friends, some Israeliens.
