The man with the cigarette always says hello to me each morning and asks me to take a picture of me. He our furniture in his car after we got it past the checkpoint.
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Palestinian children beside Muhammad's shop.
Jamal and I. We go back years, he is a very good and honourable man.
X, myself, Ayman and Wassim. I have known Ayman and Wassim for years, I met X this year. All great guys.
A small Palestinian boy cries after the door his brothers went was through closed on him by a Border Police officer.
A Border Police officer holds the ID of a Palestinian.
From left to right: Suhaib, Muhammad, myself and Muneer.
Last Thursday, after core meeting, the servees I was in took off with my backpack. I was more than sure my belongings were gone and I would have to buy myself a new backpack.
Some Palestinians at the station talked to me, and Suhaib, who lives in Hebron, drove back there with me. There we met his friend, Muneer.
They both went out of their way to help me, calling the servees station manager, the police, and speaking to other Palestinians who took the public transport that day.
My backpack showed up a few days later. No one stole it or even took anything from it.
They did not ask for a penny for their efforts, even though they spent hours tracking people down and talking to the manager and police.
To me, they represent most Palestinian people I have met in the past few years, and the face of the nation. They are kind, generous, and willing to go out of their way to help someone who is in need.
Palestinian society, like every other society, is not perfect and it does have its flaws. Stinginess and indifference however are not one of them.
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