Happy New Year

1st January 2011

Well, today is a new day and a new year. I

The christmas period is now finally over and I can truthfully say that I' happy for it. Not because I don't like christmas, in fact I love it, but because it has been so far the toughest part of my stay in Palestine. Its hard to understand how much you appreciate your family and friends untill you are unable to be with them.

It is now nearly 8 months to the day that I left my home. It feels like from now until May it will be a real up hill struggle. The longer I stay, the more chance I have of not being able to stay. I had to renew my visa on the 27th at the Israeli ministry of interior in Jeruslem, this they did not do but instead an interview was set up for february 6th to dertimine whether I can stay a further three months or not. Many I know who have been to this interview have been given just hours to get out the country. Obviously this is playing on my mind somewhat. For the sake of my own mind I am trying to stay positive.

We had a great day and night in Bethlehem on the night of the 23rd and on christmas eve. In Ceilidh Beyond Borders fashion I organised a busking trip. We played outside the church of the nativity singing carols and playing reels and jigs. We then went and played in an Armenian christian bar around the corner. We played for nearly 5 hours whilst the owners plied us with beer and bottles of wine after wine until none uf us could play coherantly. We travelled back to Nablus before having a small get together in the music centre where we once again sang all the old classics including 'God rest ye merry gentlemen' and 'Last christmas' by Wham.

Christmas day was celebrated in my apartment. It was fine 5 course turkey dinner which was started in true British style with a Gin and Tonic at midday. 12 internationals attended and a good day was had by all.

So, party time is over. Its back to the grind as they say and there is much to do. In early april there will be a travelling bunch of muscians and dancers from Durham and hopefully SOAS Univervsity. Im organising it as a minature folk festival along with a good friend called Ffion . It will be hosted bythe Nablus culture centre where concerts, ceilidhs and workshops will be taking place. Legally or illegally I will be here Nablus for this. After, my fate is not in my hands bar some visa miracle. There will be more infomation coming soon on the Nablus Folk week I am organising.

The situation here is as tense as ever. Settlements grow, the US stalls and Palestinians suffer. Not one week ago ultra conservative settlers from one of the many illegal settlements on the outskirts of Nablus set fire to a Palestinian farmers flock lambs and a protester was killed by IDF forces at the weekly rally at Bil'n where the apartheid wall is being constructed. Hopefully this death and misery will not be in vain.

From Eid to Eid

As stated before in a previous blog, my time here in Nablus seems to go so much quicker than any place I have lived before. I find myself writing this blog on the 4^th December, nearly 7 months to the day that I left the relative safety and comforts of my home county Yorkshire for this troubled and tragic bit of the land the other side of the Mediterranean.

There are many things I need to state in this blog as I admit that I have been rather slack of late with my attempts to keep those who have been following my actions over here up to date. I apologise for this but in my defence I have been rather busy.

So, after 6 months of volunteering with 'Project Hope' (http://www.projecthope.ps/) I, with great sadness left. This was in fact inevitable as I knew all along, that at some point, my funding would desert me and I would need a means to keep myself fed, clothed and watered. So I have ventured out into the world of paid employment getting a job with a language school in central Nablus. The people there are good enough, the pay good and I can get by teaching just 6 hours a week which covers all my expenses over here.

I have moved ceilidh beyond borders to a new centre in Nablus, the Nablus Culture centre. By a stroke of fate, my arrival coincided with Kevins' the Irish chap I have often talked about previously. He has to his credit set up a remarkable project (http://www.musicharvest.org/) paving the way for musicians and music students to come to Nablus to volunteer teaching music in this centre. The Centre which had been out of action for some time is full of instruments but has no one to to teach them. This is all to common in many countries which have suffered as Palestine has, instruments donated but no one with the skills to teach or tune them.

The building itself is quite something. Well over a hundred years old, this building has seen it all. With its grand high column entrance, and bleached white brick it is both daunting and beautiful at the same time. Both inside and outside the building oozes class and eloquence. The main hall is like that of a small palace and the baby grand piano in the far corner only adds to it's grandeur. The smaller rooms branching off from the main hall are also equipped with pianos and various instruments ranging from flutes to trombones. There are exit signs in German dotted around the building which I thought was strange but I was to later find out that it was a German military garrison prior to and during WW1 just before the collapse of the Ottoman Empire. The Germans both equipped and trained the Ottomans who were then their allies. In the main hall there are crockery (Plates and bowls) on display with the German Imperial Emblem of that time. It makes me smile thinking that where the Generals of the 2^nd Reich once ate, we now ceilidh. How history is kind.

I'm living with Kevin in an apartment supported by music harvest, I spend my hours split between the culture centre and teaching English. There is much work to de done in the centre, as you can imagine with its lack of use in the past 5 years it has come into quite a state.

So winter has in theory arrived, but as the snow falls on England's' pasture green the rains refuse to come to Nablus. It is a record breaking year, still freakishly hot with temperatures ranging from 20 25 degrees. I am it seems for the first time in my stay riddled with home sickness and the thought of all that snow laying in Wakefield and on the tops of Holmfirth makes me sick jealousy. Never before have I been so sick of blue skies.

I have decided to stay in Palestine over Christmas for both financial and practical reasons. A decision which wasn't easy to take but alas, I suppose if there is anywhere in the world where I would have to spend Christmas, Bethlehem and Nablus would be the place.

Musically, there has been the usual bundle of activities I've been organising in Nablus. There have been the usual open mic's, but it was with great pride that last month there was finally a ceilidh. We called 6 dances for a mixed group of internationals and some locals. It was as much a rehearsal than anything as to give practise to the acting callers who were myself and a chap from Scotland called Jimmy. We have now ceilidh beyond borders.

I am still teaching music to the children as well but it's getting tough taking new students and watching other children just disappear back into the camps and villages from whence they came. It is no more a novelty now than brushing my teeth but I have to persevere. It has left me though with a select set of maybe 7 children who still going strong and new students who are showing promise and quickly catching.

I've had to find new tunes to teach as the ones I've been teaching have literally driven me crazy. I can no longer listen to Egan's polka or the Bear dance, no matter how well it's played. In fact, a reoccurring nightmare which has been plaguing me is to the beat of Egan's polka.

How do you like Israel ??

I found myself at the 4^th annual ‘Octoberfest’ beer festival in the Christian village of Tayber near Rumallah on Saturday afternoon. It was a good day out with music through-out the day, good food and best of all, cheap ale. Many of you back home may seem it strange for there to be a beer festival here in Palestine but there is a loud and proud minority of Christian Palestinians who like the occasional tipple. Tayber Beer (named after the village) is the drink of choice for many christians and secularists in city’s like Rumallah and Bethlehem. They have even launched a non alcholic version for their Muslim brothers and with their motto ‘taste the revoltuion’ , it will undoubtedly be a success. 

Beer in the Sun

Myself and three friends from Nablus including Kevin stayed until 7pm before getting a taxi back to Nablus. By 7.30pm it was pitch black and we had been pulled over by an Israeli infantry patrol unit headed by a grumpy little female soldier with serious issues. She was small and her smallness was only exaggereted by her helmit which was clearly to big for her. She opened the door of drivers seat who was already scrambling for his documents. Holding her M16 carbine rifle (which of course looked to big for her) she huffed and she puffed whilst two other soldgiers circled the taxi peering in the window at us like a pair of weekend window shoppers. Getting more annoyed with the taxi driver she turned her attention to us the passengers. I don’t know why I felt the need to wink at her but this definately wasn’t the time or the place. I followed the wink with a cheeky ‘Everything ok love?’ in the strongest yorkshire accent I could muster. Maybe it was a bit of nervousness or maybe it was the 6 pints I had just consumed but I always thought a strong friendly, colloquial accent could diffuse any situation. She stared at me blank face then shouted . .

‘Am I your friend’

‘No’

‘Then shut the fuck up!!’

I’ve never felt so dominated in my life . . Some guys pay for this kind of treatment. She charged around to my side of the taxi sliding open the door before shouting more and taking our passports. Kevin was sat in the front of me and she demanded he empty the contents of his bag on the dash board. His bag, with it being an absolute bitch to open, wouldn’t open in time and she grabbed him by the neck before snatching the bag to empty the contents her self. After ranting for a while and asking the usual questions she went back to her jeep to check the details of the taxi driver. This all the while the two other armed skulking soldgiers leant casualy against the car making small talk . . .

‘So . . . . what do you think of Israel?’

I was astonished. I thought to myself . . Are you for serious mate?

'Yeh, really nice' Sarcastically.

He was clearly embarssed by the actions of his supervising officer. I dread to think how she treats Palestinians with no internationals present. I fail to understand how someone can have so little respect for their fellow human beings. This is widespread throughout Israel and the IDF.

We had a laugh with the taxi driver on the way back but jokes aside he said ‘imagine this everyday’. I think he appreciated our humour though as he took us for a coffea and refused to let us pay when we got back into Nablus.

Storie's like these all too commom. Its hard to convey to you back home how widespread this daily harassment and bullying is. It does nothing but drive Palestinians to new heights of desperation. The Israelis claim these checkpoints and car searches are nessecary for their own security, this is rubbish. Israel is sitting behind the most equipped, technolgiacally advanced, trained and experienced army the world has ever seen (maybe with the US). It has encircled the West Bank with by an 8 metre tall seperation wall 723km long armed with turrets and sniper towers. This 'apartheid wall', as it is known, has been built mostly on Palestinian land – a whopping 86% further indicating that the intentions behind the builidng of the Wall, which is a violation of International Law and has been repeatedly condemned by the UN, is also a both a blatant land grab and an attempt at strangling all aspects of Palestinian life.) It is widely beleived the aim of Israeli leaders is make life so unbearable for the Palestinians that they all leave the land. They've succeeded. Unfortunately the Palestinians have no-where to go though, apart from the ghettos which Israel has pushed them into.

The rocky road to Nablus

Below are some links to other stories of humilation and bullying by IDF soldgiers.

http://www.maannews.net/eng/ViewDetails.aspx?ID=321042

http://ramallahonline.com/2010/08/the-behavior-and-actions-of-the-israeli-female-soldier-posing-with-palestinian-prisoners-reflects-the-prejudice-racism-and-hatred-of-the-israeli-army/

Live Music at Tayber

The Wall near Qalandia checkpoint.

Winter Blues . .

As ever, I find myself writing these blog entries with too much to say and too little time to say it.

Since the end of Ramadan it has been stop and start to say the least. Emotionally it has been tough with many old and good friends either leaving or being foricbly removed. I also received quite devastating news which pulled me away from the olive trees of Palestine to the old oak trees of Yorkshire. As I sat in a cold Barnsley church on a typically dull yorkshire morning whislt watching my best freinds' fathers’ coffin being carried down the Isle, I was at once again reminded of the fragility of life and how easily everything we take for granted today can so easily be taken away tomorow.

The winterblues have arrived early and boy it's cold. Lydia, a cloes friend and talented violin player I've been playing with for the last 4 months has also had to return home to be with her best friend who's is terminally ill. I wish her and here friend all the best.

In Nablus itself there have been mutiple arrests in the area by both PA (Palestinian Authority) and IDF (Israili Defence Force) forces. One of the detainnes is a local volunteer for Project Hope. Probably one of the sweetest and kindest men you would want to meet. A university student, artist, singer and Muslim. He's my age and it's his 10th time in Jail now without charge. He will yet again have to restart another year of university to cater for his time in prison which now stands at three years in total. The reason for his arrest lies in his affiliation to the resistance during the last 'intifada'. A stone throwing youth who was venting his frustration at occupation and tyranny.

The illegal settlements on the outskirts are alive again though. Building has resumed and Army presence increased. Tensions are running high. Only a few day's ago Israeli settlers broke into a mosque south of Nablus attempting to burn it down and graffitying on the walls. In Nablus itself there have been settler demonstration outside another mosque they want buldozing down.

The direct peace talks brokered by the US lasted as long as the cameramans flash. Netenyahu and his right wing mix of rabbis, rascists and mass murderers (The Likud Party) have succeeded in embarrssing yet another American administration and are destroying any chance of peace in the forseeble future. It's not Netenyahu’s first time dismantling peace initiatives either. During his first premiership from 1996 - 2000 he did exactly the same. Smiles, champagne and hand shakes behind land evictions, assasinations and huge settlement expansion. The ethnic cleansing of Palestine and the creation of Erretz (Greater) Israel from the mediterraeninan sea to the Jordan river is still top of his agenda.

It bewilders me how history repeats itself so frequently. As the sqeaky voiced yorkshire foreign secretary William Hague battles and pleads with Netanyahu to simply 'extend' the settlement freeze his predeccessor from the last conservative government 15 years ago Malcom Rifkind was pleading in exactly the same way. In 1996 Mr Rifkind stated that "The start of construction can do nothing but harm the peace process." He stated this when Netanyahu levelled the hillsides of Jabal Abu Ghunan in Palestinian East Jersuslem to make way for 6,500 housing units for 30,000 Israeli settler homes. 'This site was chosen in order to complete the chain of Jewish settlments around Jeruselem and cut off contact between the Arab side of the city and its hinterland in the West Bank.' (Avi Shlaim 'The Iron Wall'  580.)

So . . a step from peace is a lunge towards war and further misery for the inhabitants of the depressing prison.

Facebook Farmers

3rd September 2010

I arrived back from Sinai mid August refreshed and full of spirit. It was great to be back in Nablus, a city which I now feel a part of. I arrived back though to a deserted Project Hope which has been closed for Ramadan. Some volunteers have been shipped to some of the Palestinian refugee camps in Amman (Jordan) but not wanting to lose precious time I declined this offer to continue working with the children of Balata and Nablus.

With Project Hope closed I am now living with a chap called Kevin. Having volunteered with Project Hope last year, he is now out here setting up his own charity recruiting music teachers to volunteer here (http://www.musicharvest.org/). He's a great guy with a dark humour and ginger hair. A perfect mix of physical and personal attributes some might say.

The trip in Sinai was a great success. With my Visa renewed and no problems at the border I now have a another three months to continue my work here. Nablus is alive at the moment. We are currently in the peak of Ramadan. There is no food for sale during the day, no falafel, no shwarma (kebab meat) and even worse no Kanafa (a beautiful cheese filled desert). There is no eating, drinking or smoking in the streets. The fasting starts at sunrise with the first call to prayer and ends at sunset with the Iftar celebration and the breaking of the fast. Families and friends come together from all around to celebrate Iftar with beautifully prepared food and drinks. From the balcony at Kevin's flat which towers high above the houses of Nablus one can see thousands of families in their kitchens and living rooms and on the balconies and roofs gorging away.




A view from the Balcony





The morning clothes wash.



Its business as usual though with the children except we meet in the early morning during Ramadan. The lessons are now becoming less formal and more fun with both whistles and guitar now being taught at the same time. Just before I left for Egypt a large package of instruments arrived in Jerusalem from Hobgoblin Music including three guitars, three violins and a further 50 D whistles. The violins I left in the capable hands of Kevin's brother Colm, a fine multi instrumentalist who I hijacked for my project. Unfortunately Colm has now left to return to his second year at university in Ireland. He will be missed though. Hopefully by Israeli airport staff as well, as I persuaded him to 'go commando' to the airport.

The arrival of the package of musical instruments to Jerusalem incidentally signalled the worst day of my stay here. I received notice by mail that they had arrived, however they were not to be delivered to Nablus and they were being held by customs at the main Post Office in Jerusalem. I headed off at once as the letter also stated there was a daily charge for there storage.

After the 2 hour journey through the West Bank, through Qalandia checkpoint and into Jerusalem I arrived at the sorting office. A large warehouse of a building with an Argos style collection point. I showed my letter to one of the workers who pointed me to an empty reception room with just one solitary worker receptionist busy at work. The problem it seemed had originated from the invoice. The invoice from hobgoblin had not stated the true cost of the instruments as to avoid the hefty importation tax the Israelis place on goods. They had listed each violin and guitar as being worth 99p and the 50 d whistles as being worth 99p collectively. The tax and customs office didn't appreciate this one bit.

'Is there a problem?' I kindly ask the receptionist. Pretty in face, Cold in heart..

'Wait here' The usual warm reception. I had been standing in front of her for at least 15 minutes.

'Could I ask what the problem is' She looked rather busy but I had now been standing there for 20 minutes while she sat there ignoring me with her eyes firmly glued to the computer screen.

'This invoice isn't real' She waves the paper in my face. There is no eye contact. A voice from the corner of the room behind the receptionist bellows out 'Come'. There, a tiny Uri Gellar look-a-like is waving at me with what appears to be another copy of the invoice. I walk past the receptionist and have a sly glance back to try and confirm my suspicions that the bitch was just on facebook. She was, and she was busy at work cultivating here huge facebook farm. Double Bitch.

We walk to the ware house were the package is there lying on a table and already opened. He gets out one of the bright purple violins and asks me what it is.'It's a violin.' Patience is growing thin. He gets out one of the guitars and repeats the question.'It's a guitar'  He shows me the invoice and states that its not real. He swears. He is angry. He doesn't know where Nablus is. (The rest of the world know and refer to Nablus as Nablus. Israelis refer to it as the biblical city of Scrhem, a city destroyed nearly 3000 years ago.) I didn't raise my voice. A screaming contest was not going to win this guy over. I just reassured him that it was a real invoice from a real musical instrument shop. He could ring the contacts if need be. It stated on the invoice that they were charitable donations. He knew where Nablus was. I think he just wanted to get into an argument /debate.He shouted louder and louder before telling me that they're sending the instruments back to England  right away because the invoice is false. My heart dropped like an anchor. All this hard work and sponsorship pissed into the wind by some tight fisted Israeli with small man syndrome. You can sum a guy up quite well when his knowledge of foul swear words out weigh his knowledge of the present perfect tense.

I reiterate my ignorance in an apologetic tone. I am the one in the wrong, you are right. I ask if there's a way we can sort it out. I propose that I show him the music instrument website so he can see the instruments and their retail worth. He grudgingly agrees and he takes me back to his office back past the receptionist who is still busy at work, cyber farming. I even stooped to the level extenuating a limp from a sprained ankle I suffered the other day. My ankle support was clearly visible. I needed everything, including pity.We sat in his dirty office surrounded by mouldy mugs and documents everywhere. I showed him my emails from Hobgoblin and he checked the website, calculator in toe. With his glasses perched on his nose he calculated the tax up on every tin-whistle, guitar and violin. In my attempt to soften the blow, I thought I'd tell him about the project, my love of Israeli music and culture and my intention to work with children in Israel. He was telling me how its expensive to have ideals. I agreed.

After adding up all the tax he showed me the calculator which showed the sum of a whopping 900 sheckles some £200. My time had come. My life had been leading up to this moment. I needed an Oscar winning performance to get out of this mess. I slowly (but dramatically) lowered my head into my shaking hands. I croaked my voice and remained silent. I looked at my flip flops for what seemed to be about 2 minutes.I don't know whether it was the limp, stories of woe and sorrow or my tales of charity and children. Maybe it was my politeness throughout the whole 2 hour ordeal or stories of a beautiful Israeli girl friend I once had. It was probably just a mixture of all the bull shit I sold him but he eventually picked up his calculator and furiously started tapping again.

He told me to go and collect the receipt from his receptionist. She managed to spare a few moments from mucking out the pigs to pass me the receipt. I paid £58 tax. I was delighted but exhausted. I had calculated myself that it would be roughly £200 and I had brought that amount with me in anticipation. Along with Kristi (an amazing Canadian volunteer who agreed to come with me for moral support), I loaded myself up and traipsed back to Nablus with all the instruments.It was one of my finest performances but I didn't recover from the ordeal for a good week.  Charitable donations should be tax free. Project Hope is a registered Charity in two countries but it's location here in the Middle East is on the wrong side of the Iron wall. Water under the bridge. Back in Nablus and happy. The aims of the project are now shifting tilt somewhat. I have  been predominantly working solely with children in the past three months whilst rehearsing and playing with a handful of internationals. In the next three months I will be concentrating on recruiting university students from the music department of the university in Nablus to join the band. We are scheduling a workshop for after Eid where myself Kevin and Lydia will play a few tunes and give a presentation on Ceilidhs' and the music itself.

These are exciting times. The project is expanding into Israel as well. My trip in Sinai was evidently meant to be. For who should I be camping next to on the red sea but a tin whistle playing Israeli activist who is just about to start teaching the tin-whistle to Palestinian children in Israel its-self. I am helping him out with 20 whistles and will help co-ordinate his lessons.He was not the only interesting Israeli activist I met in Sinai. Another chap I will talk about in my next blog.

Visa time . .

August 12th 2010

It was a great coincidence that Ramadan commenced at exactly the same time I had to leave Palestine and Israel in order re-enter and renew my visa. My stay here so far has been under a 3 month tourist visa which expired on the 6th august and to be honest I'm lost for where the time has gone.

I left Nablus on the 2nd August at 6am with the intention of making it to the Taba border crossing by the evening of the same day. The Taba border crossing is located just south of Eilat and is the only land border with Egypt. I made it down in good time passing through the Qalandia checkpoint before getting a bus from Jerusalem to Eilat. There were the usual complications at the checkpoint with two elderly women being denied transit and ordered off the bus by some young Israeli soldiers, a scene which is depressingly all to common.

Here I am though, sipping lemon juice by the Red Sea with the Sinai Dessert firmly behind me with its towering mountains laying guard over the region. Bang ahead over the red sea Saudi Arabia glistens in the evening Ramadan light and I feel cocooned in this utopian hippy enclave surrounded by the nasty warring factions around me. If I look left up the bay I can just about make out the bright lights of Eilat, the tacky not so glamorous Blackpool of Israel. Ahead as said is the strict Wahhabi regime of Saudi Arabia, to the right is Hosni Mubaraks Cairo and behind me nestled in the mountains of Sinai there resides 'terror' groups linked to Hamas and Al - Qaida. The day I arrived in Sinai was the day insurgents (allegedly linked to Hamas) fired rockets aimed at Eilat. One landed in the sea, the was over shot  landing in Aqaba Jordan killing a random taxi driver. This type of armed resistance seems more like a Monty Python sketch than a serious threat to Israeli security.

Sinai for me can't be summed up in the limited language we human beings harness. It is both unnaturally intimidatingly and beautiful. The most famous land mark in the region is Mount Sinai. It is believed that this is the location Moses received the ten commandments from God after his daring escape from slavery in Egypt. Not three days ago I climbed it. Myself and about 1000 other tourists, pilgrims and psychopaths set off at 1 am and reached the summit by 5 am. There, we waited for the sun to rise and it eventually broke through he mountain range like flood waters breaking over a damn.

Ruined by tourists (like me), fat moaning Americans, rude Russians and one idiot from Italy who carried a cross all the way to the top (I'm sure he was confused), the experience was as moving as Jade Goodys' funeral. The only thing which kept me walking up was knowing that should I choose to give up and go back down I would have amble through the 2000 camels and 1000 morons cluttering up the narrow path which I over took to get to the front. Granted the scenery was awesome at the top though.





The Bedouin were on good form though, through my broken Arabic I heard them mocking one obese American man as he grappled up the peak of the mountain. The camels also cheered me up, as I walked past one it broke wind violently. Screams and moans of complaint could be heard for minutes after from the unlucky rear enders. I let off a sly one as well,  It was a perfect cover.

Walking down in the sunlight was also nice but mildly depressing. Tourist litter can be seen in most places on the trail and I caught one idiot throwing his batteries from his camera on the floor.  I kindly told him to pick it up. I was surprised when he did.

I'm staying Dahab at the moment, a lovely little resort in between the Sharm el Sheik and Taba. Its heaven wearing shorts and have a beer in the evening. The beaches are as beautiful as the reefs I snorkel and there is a great mix of  travellers here from all over. The place is quite empty though and has never really covered from the waves of terrorist attacks which hits the resort 5 or so years ago.Quiet is good though and it's exactly what I need.

The view from my 'hut'

Conversations with the Past

Well the peak of summer has officially arrived. The sun scorches the earth of Nablus with such venom its  hard to believe any benevolent God controls it. The classrooms are becoming increasingly difficult to control and children are being drafted out of there lessons and into the family businesses. Ramadan is just around the corner and with it a month of fasting, something which will undoubtedly have a major effect on the city and it's inhabitants.

Strange things have been happening in Nablus recently.I sat in a falafel stall two weeks ago discussing with other volunteers about the changing times which this city has had to deal with. We were talking more about how it will look at the end of our life time, should this region still be existence. When I arrived back to the office I opened my email inbox to find the message below. Jim Weedon is the kind chap from Clarke's whistle company who kindly sponsored the project a large amount of Tin Whistles. There are subsequently two further emails which follow which I want to share with you.



Dear Stuart,

Jim Weedon has told me about your splendid activities. I am the Company's music consultant so I was immediately interested, especially as I know Nablus well - or should I say "knew it well". I was a soldier in Palestine during the 39/45 War stationed in Jerusalem. A soldier friend and I cycled to Nablus on days off on a tandem bike that we hired. It wasn't a real tandem but two cycles cannibalised and welded together and was called "The Flying Bedstead". I was active in the Boy Scout movement in Jerusalem and, together with two other soldiers, ran a Wolf Cub Pack in Talbiya. We took the Cubs camping to a small Arab village just outside Jerusalem. There was an active Wolf Cub Pack in the village. We had a most enjoyable evening round the camp-fire teaching the Arab children to sing our camp-fire songs.

The last time I was in Nablus was in 1943. My friend and I hired the tandem again and had a week's leave touring and staying at Jewish settlements that had Scout groups. We went north as far as Ginnegar via the Wadi Ara. That Ara was known to be dangerous but the Arabs all turned out to cheer us on as we cycled through it. They were fascinated to see two mad Englishmen riding a tandem and were most hospitable. At one point, inviting us in to a flour mill to have a welcome cold drink. On our way back we went through Nablus and stopped at a small Arab caf for lunch. My Arab friends in Jerusalem all called me Abdul Asfur because I was always making music - Asfur means, I think, "bird".

Jim and I have helped an American lady who has a similar project to yours for children in Kosova. Those children had nothing going for them after that dreadful war. They could not even play with any safety in the fields as there was so much dangerous litter left over from the war - land mines and unexploded shells. She set up lessons on the Tinwhistles that we supplied as well as mouthorgans from another company. Then she trained adults to be teachers in various centres. Now there is a thriving programme of tuition and Music Festivals that gives a worthwhile and safe occupation for the children. She even got someone to teach the children how to make cloth bags to keep their Tinwhistles in. She has gone on to set up another similar programme in Northern Ireland.

I am now very old but I still enjoy helping Jim in any of his activities. I wish you well and great success in all that you are doing.

Good whistling,

Norman Danatt


I was obviously quite unprepared for what I read last Sunday afternoon. Its not everyday you receive such a mind blowing email. I printed it off and carried it around with me for a number of days reading it occasionally when finding my self in long service rides or military checkpoint cues. I later replied.

Dear Mr Danatt.

Thank you very much for the kind and inspirational words you gave me in your email.I have to admit, it was not what I was expecting to read when I opened my email inbox last Sunday lunchtime and I sat in awe for a good 30 minutes after reading it.

I imagine the city and the area itself has changed substantially since you were last here in 1943. There are now many large refugee camps on the outskirts. These have grown in size and population since their creation in 1948 and I have been speaking to many of the older inhabitants who can still recall the day's of the 'British Occupation'. The hill tops surrounding Nablus at the top of the valley are now all Israeli Army Bases, watch towers or Illegal Israeli settlements and the sound of F16 fighter jets fly daily overhead shaking the building of Nablus to their foundations. The old city is still there though with its tea houses and market stalls and I can only imagine the vibe which there is now is similar to how it was 65 years ago. For sure, there is definitely one thing which has not changed and that is the hospitality of its Arab inhabitants of this great and proud city.

It sounds as, like myself now, you had quite an adventure. I can only imagine what you would have experienced in those day's of old. I think I will now have to get hold of a tandem bike ! Do you have any places / villages you would like me to visit or any old friends I could try to track down. I could take a few photos of these places and send you them via email. Also, when I get back to England, It would be great if possible to meet up and share notes on experiences.

Kindest Regards

Stuart Graham

I tried my best in the email not to sound militantly 'preachy' about the state that Nablus is in now and the years of utter horror its citizens have had to endure since its military occupation in 1967 and before. He later replied.


Dear Stuart,

Thanks for your offer to look up anyone I knew all those years ago. Unfortunatelyall my friends from those days are either dead, or so old that they areprobablyin care homes. I keep in touch with one of them - he was one of my Wolf Cubs - a Jewish boy named Moshe - he sometimes comes to England on business so we meet in London in arestaurant. I ran the Old Comrades Association for members of my Regiment and we organised a yearly Reunion.  All that is now finished - one by one they disappeared leaving just three of us still in touch. I am now 90 and manage to creak on.

I met my wife Marjorie in Jerusalem where we became engaged to be married. A funny thing happened. I took her to meet Moussa Absy, an Arab friend in the Old City. He was a silversmith. As soon as we entered his shop he got his little boy servant to fetch us coffee. Marjorie could not drink coffee but it was the smell of it she didn't like. Rather than cause embarrassment she held her nose and drank the coffee, to the great amusement of Moussa and other Arab merchants who had come in to meet Marjorie.We were married in the Semiramis Hotel on the banks of the Nile in Egypt. It was the Army GHQ Registery Office. We then had our honeymoon in Luxor. By then I was no longer in the Army - I had managed to get a transfer to ENSA, the entertainments organisation of the Army. I toured Cyprus, Syria, Iraq,Egypt, Sudan and eventually North Germany with Shows.All the while I was in the Army in Jerusalem I was organist in Christchurch in the Old City near the Jaffa Gate.We always intended to go back to Jerusalem on holiday but  waited in the hopes that it would be more peaceful. The first suicide bomber blew up a restaurant right next to the flat where Moshe's parents had lived. It is so sad that that beautiful country cannot find peace. I am attaching a few pictures of myself with Marjorie and the Wolf Cubs.

I hope you are getting the children playing the Tinwhistles and enjoying doing so. Incidentally I found from past experience that a few youngsters just never managed to play the Tinwhistles - not because they were unmusical but because they had problems with finger coordination. I had a little group of them playing Kazoos very satisfactorily.

It is now about 2 am in the night. I could not sleep so have been sitting at the computer. I think it is time that I made another attempt at getting to sleep so I'll sign off.

With best wishes,

Norman

Norman was the exact same age (23) as me when he was last in Nablus in 1943, nearly 70 years ago.  I hope when I reach 90, I write with such clarity and humour. He is what my school boy history teacher (NR) would call excitedly call a primary source and to be honest there have been few emails in my life which have excited me so much. Please feel free to comment on these emails on the guest book page.