Category Archives: Otto the West Bank Barrier

Otto the West Bank Barrier

Hamo Hamas Hamat

Finally. After seven weeks of bombing interrupted by short cease fires, we have a long-term truce in Gaza at last. Wonder how long-term that actually is. The previous cease fires were not pauses so much as dot-dot-dots of waiting for the next round of shelling. But right now all I know is that the party to the left of me (on the -alestine side of Isralestine) is going full swing and long may that last too.

And as the rest of you tip ice water over your heads in support of ALS research (not just because you’ve been challenged to and because you want to be part of something fun and big, of course…), some Palestinians have taken to tipping the rubble of what used to be their homes over their heads to raise awareness of Gaza.  Calling it the Rubble Bucket Challenge. And demonstrating that humour, not love, will always win over hate.

After all, love is – in a fragile break from a war that has claimed tens of thousands of innocent lives – possibly a tall order. Amo, Amas, Amat, as we learned in Latin class, is first and foremost a matter of grammar. Let alone Hamo, Hamas, Hamat (or PIJ, Hamas, Fatah, as the case may be). But humour may be the first step for those with little reason to love their enemy, whatever side of me – well, of the Gazan border of course, but I speak metaphorically – they’re on.

If you hate me, for instance, for being a symbol of divisiveness in an area that really doesn’t need any more divisions, just switch the first letters of my name – West Bank Barrier – and have a giggle.

If you can’t love your enemy, you can at least take the piss.

And given the truce forged in Cairo this week, it appears to have done the trick. Maybe tipping the contents of your hoover over your head will bring back the missing girls in Nigeria, who knows.

Otto the West Bank Barrier

What’s in a wall

Yesterday a man tried to cross me. I didn’t really mind. In fact, I didn’t react at all. But the other man with the gun did, the guard. It did not end well.

As walls go (or wall-and-fence-barrier which is what I am strictly speaking), I’m quite laid back really. Most of the time I just want to keep people safe, like all walls do, or give people something to climb so they can see further. Most walls just want to help. I mean a house without walls is basically a marquee. People – humans – tend to need walls. Which is odd but whatever.

But most walls will also agree that they are used by humans to do things that are bizarre, pointless or downright immoral. Take the Wailing Wall for instance – he’s called Eddie. You couldn’t meet a nicer wall; well what’s left of him. Always cheerful, always friendly. And to be wailed at, loudly, by milions of people a year (literally millions, sheesh) must give even the most tolerant wall the hump.

Now me, I’m used as a barrier – well that’s what I’m called; the West Bank Barrier. Much like Hans in Berlin was before he went the way of Jericho. Because for some reason humans like division. The people who built me obviously wanted to keep the suicide bombers out, ok, but generally I’ve noticed that humans like barriers. They need barriers. Us and Them, with Them firmly Over There, so We can feel united and They can be blamed for, well, everything.

Which is ironic because to me, you’re all exactly the same. You must really like arguing or something. To us walls, though, it’s only so much noise. Or wailing. And the lucky ones find love (Hans and Checkpoint Charlie, for instance, well that was a scandal but they were different times). But the rest of us just become really really grumpy.

So if I lurk and loom a little now and again, forgive me. Because Isralestine is so beautiful on both sides of me – I just wish you could see it.