Promoting Democracy. Manal A. Jamal
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Cooperation with Developing Countries
LIST OF FIGURES AND TABLES
Figure 1.1. Political settlements, donor assistance, and civil society outcomes
Figure 4.1. All disbursements to El Salvador and the Palestinian Territories, 1992–2001
Figure 4.2. Commitments to government and civil society, 1992–2001
Table 4.1. Donor Assistance to the Palestinian Territories and El Salvador from 1992 to 2001
Table 5.1. Comparing Women’s Status in El Salvador and the Palestinian Territories
Table 5.2. Inception of Women’s Organizations in Palestinian Territories—Jerusalem-Ramallah Access Area, 1978 to 2001
Table 5.3. Inception of Women’s Organizations in El Salvador—San Salvador, 1978 to 2001
PREFACE
In the late 1990s, I worked as a journalist and researcher in Jerusalem. As part of my daily routine, I would park my car—or, more accurately, my mother’s car—on Highway 1, the 1950 armistice line separating East and West Jerusalem. Then I would walk to my morning job at the Alternative Information Center, a research institute, in West Jerusalem. At noon, I would return to the car and proceed to my full-time job in East Jerusalem at the Jerusalem Media Research Center, another research institute where I worked as a journalist and researcher on a project on donor assistance to the Palestinian territories.1 One damp Tuesday morning, however, I returned to Highway 1 only to realize that the car was no longer there. Two bystanders informed me that two young Arab men had driven away with it.
I decided to go to the nearest police station, which happened to be in West Jerusalem, the predominantly Israeli side of the city. The officer on duty patiently listened, then informed me that I would likely never see the car again—32,000 cars are stolen in Israel per year. Dissatisfied with his response, I proceeded to the nearest Palestinian Authority (PA) police station in Abu Dis. There I filed a report for a stolen car. The officers on duty put out an alert to all personnel guarding Palestinian - Authority checkpoints near Jerusalem to look out for a gray Subaru with a yellow license plate—the plate color reserved for Palestinians with foreign passports, Palestinian residents of Jerusalem, Israelis, and foreigners. The alert noted that the car was owned by a Palestinian American with a US passport.
By late afternoon on Wednesday, I had heard from no one. I returned to Highway 1, hoping to find the car or evidence that would lead me to it, but it was still nowhere to be found. Across the street, a crowd of Palestinian laborers were waiting for transport to their jobs across the Green line.2 I approached and asked if anyone knew any of the car thieves in the area and explained that my car had been stolen the previous day. I even offered a US$200 award to anyone who could help me find the car. Nonetheless, by evening, I had to return home without my mother’s car.
Early the next morning, I received a call from one of the laborers I had spoken to the previous day; he informed me that he had found the car, and that I should proceed to meet him alone near a large sign by the entrance to a remote village. Wary of what awaited me, I asked the first person I met that morning, my friend Mohammed, to accompany me to the meeting. Shortly thereafter, we arrived at the meeting point and three vans approached. By coincidence, it turned out that Mohammed and the young men in the vans actually knew one another. They exchanged news about family members, and we eventually set off to retrieve the car. We arrived at a remote house on top of a hill with a number of cars parked outside. Inside the house, a group of men awaited. Since Mohammed