Writing from the back of the Wheels of Justice bus. The Sabeel conference finished a couple hours ago. My wheels friends went out to dinner and Charlie and I shared a sandwich I had saved from from lunch and then went for a long walk.

The conference had excellent speakers–Phyllis Bennis, Mark Ellis, Jeff Halper, Michael Tarrazi. My workshop was during the final session which worked well. Most of the people who came had had enough analysis and were ready for art and storytelling.

A highlight for me was sitting and talking with Cindy Corrie. Cindy is the mother of Rachel Corrie who was killed in Gaza in 2003, trying to prevent the demolition of the home of a Palestinian family. I met Craig and Cindy Corrie at the Atlanta Sabeel conference last February. Since Rachel’s death they have been tirelessly asking our government for a US-led investigation into her killing. And in March they initiated a lawsuit against the Israel Defence Force and the government of Israel, to seek justice for Rachel and also information. (Unfortunately, the Israeli parliament, counter to international law, has passed retroactive legislation making it impossible for most Palestinians and others to file suit against the IDF for injury that occurred in the occupied territories after September 2000.)

The Corries breathed life into a conference that was heavy on analysis. During lunch Cindy played a video of a press conference Rachel took part in two days before her death, then read some of Rachel’s correspondences from Gaza.

To read a recent article by the Corrie’s go to www.counterpunch.com/corrie10102005.html

With Craig and Cindy Corrie at Sabeel Conference

Everywhere we go, we find places for Charlie to be off his lead. Here in Loveland, Colorado, there is a section of a national park that runs alongside the back end of the farm. Each morning, while the moon is still in the sky, we walk our way to the top of the mountain, catching the sunrise and a view of Eastern Colorado. Charlie runs much of the way up and down, stopping to smell things and pick up branches. The larger and more unruly the branch the better. These are wrestled to the ground, the smaller branches he breaks off with his legs and mouth. And when it’s over, he is victorious and proud of himself. Head high, tail wagging.

Rain on the canvas above, cold air on my hands, warm Charlie lying curled up beside me. We are both under blankets on a futon, on the floor of a yurt, on an organic farm in Loveland, Colorado. I am visiting my friend Val who taught with me at the Ramallah Friends Schools in the West Bank (www.palfriends.org/). Yesterday we went to a biodynamic farm and harvested carrots. Today it’s raining and a perfect day to write.

It’s been a long while since I have been able to sit long enough to put words down. My four days in Columbia, Missouri, were packed with five events each day. Then it was off for a day each in Kansas City, Missouri, and Lawrence, Kansas. What stands out most from these places are the people I met, beginning with Iman Labadia, the main organizer of my events in Columbia. Her energy and organizing skills matches that of my friend Jim Harb in Knoxville, TN. She arranged events at colleges and highschools, a bookstore, a radio station, and a local tv station. Iman is one of those who never looses an opportunity to make a connection and I soon learned anyone she said “I should meet” I really should.

One of these is Ibtisam, a Palestinian poet and writer, around my age, who left Ramallah 15 years ago. She came to the presentation at Missouri University and eloquently expressed the generosity of the Palestinian people and the suffering of peoples everywhere, including that of Palestinians. “The Jews have perhaps been the most persecuted people in history….We, the Palestinians, were ready to share our land. Come, we said, come, this land will be a haven for both of us… But our land has been taken.” She has a book soon to be released about her childhood in Ramallah (details when I have them). And Chronicle will be publishing her first children’s book. We talked about collaborating on another book. It will tell the story of her first good dream, at 25 years of age, of a whale and a zippered pocket in his belly which she climbs into.

And, there is Carol, a woman who was part of a coalition of people who protested my coming to Columbia, and who came to the MU event so she could “see for herself”. Before the event started, she introduced herself and throughout the evening was closely watched me. At the end, she embraced me and the work.

There are longtime peace activists Robin and Paul whose home, The Peace Haven, I stayed in. Paul, who teaches classes on terrorism, made five star breakfasts each morning and Robin sent me off with a care package which included black seed tea and handmade soap from Prague.

There is Paul Sturtz who started a storefront theater in Columbia (www.ragtagfilm.com) and initiated the True/False Documentary film festival (www.ragtagfilm.com/truefalse/home.htm). Paul showed Iman and I samples of animated documentaries created by his students. After just a few minutes of watching, I knew what I am doing next. An animated documentary. Paul gave me a list of tools I will need and offered help in learning to use the equipment.

Paul and Iman at Ragtag Theater

There is Nanette a human rights investigator and community educator who came to three presentations. To one she brought her 11 year old daughter Kai Lee. To another, her friend Rebecca who had recently come back from Israel through Birthright Israel, a program which pays the airfare for Jews who want to visit.

There was a group of students at Hickman High School. Most of them were either from the Muslim Student Association or Amnesty International. “What can we do, now, here?” one asked. We talked and brainstormed creative approaches to education.

And there were shared dinners. I met with members of the Columbia Tikkun group at a vegan restaurant on 9th street. And on two separate evenings broke the Ramadan fast with Muslim families: one Palestinian American; one Iranian.

Group shot after Missouri University event

Presenting at Hickman Highschool

Students from Amnesty International and Muslim Students Association, Hickman Highschool

With Paul and Robin

Just sat talking with (mostly listening to) Mary Routh a Catholic Worker Catholic, feminist, and 8th generation Iowan. She told stories, mostly of her family. She’s got seven siblings that live within a 50 mile radius. She told a story of a sister who will soon be forced to move out of her house because she won’t be able to afford the rise in natural gas prices (it’s expected to jump 40% this winter). She told a story of her born again brother who is trying to save her and who supports Steve King, the Republican who represents western Iowa in the House. Steve King has been in the press recently for saying McCarthy was a “great American hero.” Apparently he was quoted as saying, “If you don’t think so, read your history”. And he is so popular in western Iowa that his seat is safe, he can say most anything he wants.

Just back from the library event in Ames. There weren’t many people, maybe 15, however we had a good time talking at the end. Sometimes a smaller group allows for a more intimate conversation.

Michael Gillespie from the Washington Report (www.wrmea.com) interviewed me before the event. I liked him. He was easy to talk with. He thinks, in addition to an article about the tour, WR will want to review the book and the American Educational Trust (which publishes the magazine) carry it. This would be a great help in getting the word out.

A good time in Minneapolis. Highlight: dinner with Jeanie.

With Jeanie in restaurant near University of Minneapolis

Back in Iowa, after four days in Minnesota.

A run with Charlie this morning. I was thinking of these days on the road, reminded of the stage in a marathon when all senses become focused on the running. I’ve run three marathons: Jericho, Boston, and Nashville Country Music Marathon. At the start of each, the first seven or eight miles, I talk with other racers, take in scenery, buildings, people, music. However, by the tenth mile the focus narrows, voices dim, including the one in my head, and there is just listening to the breathing, feeling legs and arms moving and feet striking the road. After three weeks on the road, I’ve hit a stride. Every leaving is an arrival is a leaving is an arrival. There is conservation of energy. During events, answers to questions have become more concise. Between events I am quiet and sometimes at a loss when asked simple questions. How do I like Iowa? ” I like it. The sky is so big here it’s part of the landscape.” ???? I call friends and family to stay connected and to hear their voices, however, I don’t have much to say. “It’s gotten cold here in Minnesota.” Most days, Charlie and I go for long walks. He keeps his nose to the ground and stops often to linger on a smell. I can get impatient, wanting us to keep moving. Yet later, when I am unsure of the way back to where we started, he turns us in the right direction.

In a couple hours, I will be heading to Ankeny and then to a library event in Ames. Tomorrow another library and, in the evening, an Islamic Center in Des Moines.

I have received several strange emails from my website recently. Here’s one I got from England:

HELLO,

I WILL LIKE TO PLACE AN ORDER FOR 100 COPIES OF THE BELOW BOOK TITTLE BY BILL CLINTON

BOOK TITTLE………MY LIFE
AUTHOR……..BILL CLINTON
FORMAT……….HARD-COVER

PLS DO FORWARDED THE TOTAL COSTS OF 100 COPIES NOW

Until I reached Bill Clinton’s name I was excited. I thought they were ordering 100 copies of Outside the Ark.

Four presentations today at University of Northern Iowa, including two art classes and a community wide event. Tomorrow, another class presentation then back to Grinnell.

11 highlights of the the tour so far:

1. Giving my first sermon (Hickory Lutheran Church, Hickory, NC, September 11). I was scared and glad the pulpit was there to hide my shaking legs, however, everyone was very quiet and no one fell asleep. The subject of the readings was reconciliation.
2. Seeing Aunt Carol, Uncle Art, and Lisa (Malaprop’s Bookstore event, Asheville). Felt good to have the work seen and appreciated by folks who remember me as Fifty-five.
3. Re-meeting Hanaan, a Palestinian woman I met last spring at a Women in Black gathering (Knoxville, TN). She was studying in Egypt during the 1967 war and was never allowed to return to Palestine though the rest of her family were there. She’s a great storyteller and one of the most outspoken Muslim women in Knoxville. Her stories are often funny and warm and include someone waking up to their prejudice and ignorance towards Muslims and Arabs. We talked about doing a book together.
4. Listening to Jim Harb talk about the vegetables and flowers in his garden (Knoxville, TN). Jim, an old friend, and one of the hundreds of Harbs of Ramallah living in Knoxville, has flowers and vegetables from all over the world. Eight varieties of tomatoes, including a Lebanese tomato which we ate for breakfast.
5. Hiking with Charlie to Fall Creek Falls (Fall Creek Falls State Park, TN).
6. Eating a Bocca pizza with Pastor Joe Hoffman and Noel Nickel (Asheville, NC).
7. Sharing a story during Children’s Time (First Congregational United Church of Christ, Asheville, NC). First time I told part of the Magic Nation story to kids.
8. Walking with Carol, Flower, and Charlie along the Tennessee River (Knoxville, TN).
9. Sitting and talking with Brenda Bell in her home (Maryville, TN). Brenda just turned 60 last year, quit her job to work in Afghanistan to train teachers in literacy education. She will return in October.
10. Listening to the music at the Nashville Peace Rally (Nashville, TN).
11. (As I write this) talking with Chris Lugo of Nashville IMC about all the places I am headed next (Nashville, TN). He seems to know something about every place I will be presenting. Like that the Mall of America (the largest mall in the US) is in Blooomington, MN. And Focus on the Family is based in Colorado Springs. And Lawrence is the Boulder of Kansas.

I am figuring out what this blog is for and who it is I am writting to.

Last week, I wrote about an event at a bookstore in Asheville, NC. I listed some of the responses to the presentation: sadness, gratefullness, despair, hope, anger… anger directed at our government and anger directed at me. I mentioned that the anger towards me came from a woman who had commented that the presentation was one-sided, that if one were to truely work for peace one needed to also tell the stories of the lives of Israelis (not just of those Israelis working for a just peace, but those suffering from suicide bombers). A couple days after I posted the blog, a Peace Studies program from a college in Iowa dis-invited me. They say they are concerned that the presentation would not be “balanced.” (Had they read the blog? Probably not, but I wondered.) We had already agreed that after my presentaion they would host a panel of different voices. However, in their dis-inviation I was told thay had not found an artist to provide the “other side.” I am surprised that in their minds it needed to be an artist that would offer this “other side.”

How how do we, how do I, get beyond the talk of sides? In what other conflict do we expect one person to tell all stories? And, in what other occupation are we as reluctant to use the word occupation? Or to recognize the difference in power between peoples? I deleted the post. I was concerned I didn’t give enough context to the woman’s argument and that future event hosts would read the blog and get concerned.

Do I need to be more clear on this website about what folks can expect and not expect from the presentation? And I keep clarifying for myself what this is. Stories of Palestinians, of friends, whose lives I want to honor and celebrate and whose deaths I want to mourn. Stories of kids, bakers, teachers, doctors, hairdressers. Stories of hope and creation in the midst of death and destruction. And stories of how some stories hide other stories. So we don’t get to hear about the kids, bakers, teachers, hairdressers.

And the stories themselves change, even when the words remain the same. The paintings and rememberings of the Noah’s Ark story, which begin and end the book and presentation, were painted before the levees broke in New Orleans. Now, when I read about the bodies, of whether Noah looked outside the ark and saw the bodies, something has shifted. We’ve seen the bodies floating in water, if only on tv or the newspaper.

Childrens’ time at the UCC church ended up being for the whole congregation. I sat up front with the kids and spoke into a mike. Told a piece of the Magic Nation story and one kid spent the rest of the service with his hand up to his eye like a telescope. In the evening, a 95 year old man told a story of being director of the YMCA in West Jerusalem. I ate pizza with the pastor and his wife afterwards and talked about returning to Asheville on my way back to Durham. Tomorrow, Charlie and I are going to Dupont Falls on our way to Knoxville.