Sunday night, May 19, 2003
Open fires burn from hilltops and parking lots and the air, thick with smoke, leaves a sharp film on my tongue and palate. Leaving Jerusalem we skirt the perimeter of the West Bank for a kilometre or two and then head west for Tel-Aviv, stopping for numerous roadblocks and security checks along the way. At each checkpoint young, well-armed Israeli men peer into our white Mercedes. Some are expressionless, some smile but like us all of them are thinking about the five terrorist attacks in the last 48 hours.
The smoke follows us through the quiet countryside maintaining its hold on my tongue until we are once again amongst the countless bonfires lit in celebration of Lag B'Omer, a semi-holiday on which people break from the seven-week semi-mourning period following Passover to celebrate and marry. (The mourning commemorates the many tragedies, massacres and pogroms experienced during this time over the centuries).
Bombings and holidays. I am simply unaccustomed to the daily contradictions of life in this incredible land.
We were not witness to any of the recent terror and destruction. Two days ago, the morning before a young couple was killed in Hebron, John, Brad and I spent our day visiting wonderful vistas of the city and many of Jerusalem's holy sites including Gethsemane, the garden where Judas betrayed Jesus, Mary's tomb, The Church of the Holy Sepulchre (Via Dolorosa -the 14 stations) and the Wailing Wall.
I had two very powerful moments during all of this. One when I entered the monument over what is believed to have been Jesus tomb, which consisted of an incredible sense of enormity and the other in anticipation of approaching the Western Wall. In this case it wasn't the landmark itself as much as it was about not knowing what it really meant to me and therefore what reaction I might have. Once touching the wall however I found myself very present, reminded that only I can make such a decision and, that when ready to, I would know.
Yesterday morning a suicide bomber boarded a bus in north Jerusalem during the morning rush and killed at least seven innocent people. Elsewhere another bomber blew himself up while riding a bicycle towards an army roadblock. Three hours later, as reporters broadcast live from the now cleaned-up scene, people are already lining up for their bus in to town.
By then we were into our first serious day of meetings in Jerusalem; Jerusalem Capitol Studios, home of foreign bureaus for CNN, ABC, FOX, SKY, BBC, CBC and just about every other major network, Channel 2 franchisee TelAd, Mr. Rubi Rivlin, Knesset (Parliament) Chairman and Speaker, and Mr. Gideon Meir, Deputy Director General for Public Affairs.
Dinner, sleep, and breakfast. Day three in Jerusalem (today). A suicide bomber blows himself up beside an army jeep in Gaza. The soldiers inside are lightly wounded. By the time three are killed and 48 wounded in Afula (north west of Jerusalem near Haifa), we had already met with the U.J.C, Mr. Yosef Barel, Director General of the Israel Broadcast Authority, The Steven Spielberg Jewish Film Archive, and Channel 10 Owner and Billionaire Mr. Yossi Miman. From there it was off to meet with Director General of Channel 2 News Company and dinner with Mr. Ehud Olmert, The Minister of Industry and Trade, Deputy Prime Minister and former Mayor of Jerusalem. (How many titles can a guy get?).
I am exhausted yet somehow still exhilarated. This whirlwind of excitement, progress, determination and acceptance is mixed with emotions I have yet to process. At this point I can't even say what they are and I wonder if and when they will unravel into consciousness.
Its now 1:28 am, in Tel-Aviv. In seven hours I will be having breakfast with former Israeli Prime Minister and Noble Peace Prize winner Shimon Perez. The rest of the day will be filled with more meetings with Ministers, heads of television networks and dinner with our Israeli advisor's family before what will surely be very thorough security inspections before boarding our flights home.
I never seem to get much rest on planes. Maybe this time.
Perry Gladstone
Posted by pike at May 20, 2003 01:34 AM