Louisa Menke
WEST BANK, PALESTINE.
JULY 2018.
On the 7th of July, I found myself on a plane to Israel, having been invited to teach skateboarding at a summer camp project for local children in Jayyous, Palestine. Entering a foreign culture by sharing my love for skateboarding, connecting with people, and documenting the experience with my camera is what I love most. After doing similar projects in Afghanistan, India, and Johannesburg, Palestine was the next place life put on my path.
The plane was filled with Westerners, and at some point I started to wonder where the Middle Eastern people were. After visiting the bathroom a few times, I counted about six people on the plane who looked 'Arab'. Next to me sat a middle-aged Israeli man watching videos of Jesus on his iPad. He started a conversation, and as soon as I told him I was going to the West Bank to teach skateboarding, he fell silent. Later, he resumed the conversation, suggesting I spend some time in Israel as well, as it’s a beautiful country.
It felt as if I had offended him by going to Palestine, and it took a while to get the conversation back on track. He explained to me that he wasn’t allowed to enter the West Bank and had never heard of Jayyous. He ended up Googling it and helped me find my way through the airport.
Israeli airport security shows an ugly reflection of their system. As soon as a guard found out I was going to the West Bank, he asked for my father’s last name. Since I was raised by my mother, I tried to explain that my father wasn’t in my life. He didn’t care. My father is Algerian, and thus from an 'Arab' country — they didn’t let me pass. It felt like my name wasn’t on the list of a VIP party, and the longer I had to wait, the less I wanted to enter.
The security made me wait in a room where I recognized a few of the 'Arab' people I had seen on the plane. I sat there for hours and became friends with two American Palestinians and their mother, who told me they go through this procedure every single time they visit family. I was shocked by how blatantly racist the procedure was and resented the system immediately. It hurts to be treated as less, for reasons you never even chose — though anger solves nothing.
Once I arrived in Palestine, we drove past villages, mountains, Israeli checkpoints, army bases, and sleek Jewish settlements. Even though the establishment of Jewish settlements in Israeli-occupied territories is illegal under international law (the Fourth Geneva Convention), over 400,000 Jewish settlers are living in the West Bank today. They use separate transportation, separate highways, and live in settlements marked by fences, guards with guns, and flags adorned with the Star of David.
The region of Palestine was one of the first in the world to see civilization. It’s a crossroads between Christianity, Islam, and Judaism. Religious people from all over the world come to see the places where the stories in their holy books originally took place. To me, it felt like walking around in the modern-day version of those holy books, where people try to live their daily lives among others too busy reviving the past.
Skateboarding through all of this felt like the only sane thing to do. Even if it might have seemed insane, it’s something I know how to do well, and it makes me happy.
During my stay in Jayyous, I felt trapped inside a bigger picture — a beautiful mountain view corrupted by the presence of a so-called wall. The energy was oppressive. The anger, the boredom, the pain.
On the 18th of July, I left Jayyous and traveled to other parts of Palestine. I started taking photos, and by sharing them, I hope to show a reality of a beautiful culture living in a situation that goes beyond understanding.
TRAPPED INSIDE OF A BIGGER PICTURE
by LOUISA MENKE
Published by
FORGOTTEN FANCLUBS
www.skategilva.org
www.skatepal.co.uk