We leave the church for the most delicious falafel, foul and hummus we've had the entire trip (and we have had a steady diet of it). We eat in an early refugees basement establishment. When I say basement, we are talking about stone caverns that have become cool refuges, shops and homes. We then visit Palestinian artist Munther's studio. He and his brother Ibrahim moved back from Ramallah to start some kind of cultural life in the town where there is no awareness or support for contemporary art, no scene whatsoever. Munther's makes paintings of a Palestinian "terrorist" watching TV with his family, and doing other ordinary things. He and his brother, a young performance artist, hope to turn their studio into public gallery and, if they can raise the funds, buy the place next door to start a coffee shop and meeting place.
At the Tent of Nations the fog comes in so quickly. Air raid sirens (test) is no test. Its amazing sound that booms throughout the valley is meant to be the voice of an omnipotent god proclaiming their wrath. It caught us unprepared and went unrecorded.
We wait for the Friday prayers to end, which is when everyone goes to the wall. We walk along dirt roads, past scarecrows and a sway backed emaciated donkey and hear and see the settlers from afar yelling and waving from the precipice of the sheer rock that creates a fortress-like effect.
Tear gassed in Bil’in today and we weren't even that close to the wall. Stayed with head of bilin council, brother of director of 5 Broken cameras. Celebrated his 8-year-old daughters birthday with extended family. Met director too and gave him special camera .