Friday, February 15, 2008

The end of the road

This house is now at the end of the road. The road used to go on to the next town, but the Israelis-only road and wall cut us off. I don't think it was pleasant to live next to it during the construction, and I would hate to have the guard tower over looking my back yard.
The bedu are their neighbors .Are Palestinian kids the only ones that throw old shoes into the wires? During the first intifada they used to make home made Palestinian flags, when it was illegal to display a Palestinian flag, and attach them to the shoes or a stone with a string and tangle them in the electric wires. It was a form of protest. But now the kids just do it for fun.The view at the top of the hill was beautiful. But can you imagine farming in such rocky soil?
A few flowers are ready for spring.


fjb said...

"Are Palestinian kids the only ones that throw old shoes into the wires?"

For the last two weeks there's been a pair hanging outside the front of my son's school. Just goes to show, some things are simply universal, especially when it comes to kids.:)

Mona Zenhom said...

I've seen the shoes on wires in NY and in Egypt...the latter makes me wonder...there are some barefoot kids up in here.

Anonymous said...

My son was asking me about shoes on wires a couple weeks ago...they do it in Alaska too!
Love and Peace,

JDsg said...

The shoes on wires thing, of course, is universal although, here in Singapore, I've sometimes seen umbrellas hanging from wires as well. ;)

Regarding farming in stony soil, that's why the Irish (and other nationalities) have farm fields that are surrounded by stone walls, from having pulled out all of those stones over the years from their fields and placing them a short distance away, which happens to also show the boundaries of their fields.

alajnabiya said...

Welcome to my little blog JD. The fields here are also marked by the rock walls, and the hills are terraced with rock walls. You can see these terraces in some of my snow pictures. Many times when you walk through empty areas between villages, you will see neglected terraces on the hills and wonder if they have been there for centuries since a farmer spent all those hours shifting rocks.