While sitting in ulpan class this past week a peculiar incident transpired. As we all were listening half-awake to a lesson on future tense grammar, one of the girls suddenly gasped and pointed out the window toward a trickle of smoke rising in the distance, in a nearby Palestinian town. Recovering from the initial shock, my Arab-savvy classmate told everyone to calm down as it was just a case of Palestinians burning trash--an occurrence commonly seen throughout the West Bank. I peered out and my eyes fixed upon the separation wall--the unmistakable snakelike, concrete structure delineating the border between Jerusalem and the West Bank. As I turned my gaze to the smoke, I noticed that in fact it was coming from our side, on the outskirts of Issawiyya, the impoverished Arab neighborhood located adjacent to the Hebrew University campus that we were told never to wander into.

"It's because the municipal authorities don't provide garbage pick-up services for them," I hastily clarify, intent on preventing my peers from construing prejudicial rationalizations for what they were seeing.

The overarching lesson I have come to learn since returning to Israel as an incoming graduate student is that Jerusalem is a city of layers, and not just of the archeological kind. Layers that are political in nature can also be found to those who familiarize themselves with the narratives and controversies embedded inside the city's various landscapes.

In order to recognize these political layers, I participated in several tours and lectures on some of the most contentious parts of the city. As a result, the sight of burning trash in East Jerusalem [Arab-Jerusalemite] neighborhoods, for instance, also represents the image of the municipality's neglect of the city's Palestinian residents. Likewise, after reviewing the maps given to me from a tour by Ir Amim, I now understand that the town on the other side of the wall I view every day from my classroom is actually the Shu'afat Refugee Camp--one of the many Arab neighborhoods Israel annexed following the 1967 Six-Day War, and still legally considered part of Israel So much for "United Jerusalem."

It is nearly impossible not to stumble into such complex scenery here. During my university orientation, my tour group stopped by a particular view overlooking the Judean Hills. To the naked eye, the view consisted of an uninhabited valley, some hilltop Israeli settlements, and in the far background, the Dead Sea. Thanks to a previous tour with the Sheikh Jarrah Solidarity Group, however, I was able to see the battleground this area had become. The plans of members of the current governing coalition to confiscate the land under the auspices of the Nature and Parks Authority have temporarily been halted. However, bulldozing in parts of the valley for the construction of a new "park" has started anyway, albeit illegally. If this project is completed, it will not only leave the residents of Issawiyya with no adjacent space for natural growth, but moreover will effectively cut the West Bank in half and sever Arab East Jerusalem from the West Bank, by linking Jerusalem to the E-1 corridor that leads to Ma'ale Adumim. Such disruption of the contiguity of East Jerusalem--the designated capital of a future Palestinian state-- with the West Bank would mark a deathblow to the two-state solution.

On the other side of town, anytime I stroll down West Jerusalem's Yafo Road I end up passing several locations of former suicide bombings. Davidka Square, the corner of King George, and of course, Mahane Yehuda and Ben Yehuda. Since being exposed to the dark secret behind these popular destinations my vision on occasion becomes binary as the montage of families dining and shoppers bustling gives way to the unsettling image of a people who are vulnerable.

Deciding to take a more activist role during my studies, I went to an event sponsored by Peace Now, Israel's most prominent grassroots peace movement, with whose sister organization Americans for Peace Now I had worked as an intern prior to arriving in Israel. Expecting merely a lecture by Settlements Watch director Hagit Ofran on the dangerous precedent of the Migron outpost (see The Migron File), the event turned out to be the scene of a surprising discussion between Peace Now activists and proponents of the settlements, including a resident of Migron itself.

Always interested in hearing a right-wing perspective, I contacted a prominent national-religious settler radio talk show host who to my excitement agreed to meet with me. As I asked my interlocutor in the plainest of terms what he thought of the conflict with his Palestinian neighbors, he was quick to point out that he sympathized with the "Arabs" for the poor conditions they faced, and desired a one-state solution without having to relocate anybody. Digging deeper, I pressed him to explain what such a solution would entail. After some deliberation he laid out his proposal: 1) annex the Territories; 2) grant citizenship to any Palestinian after going through a naturalization process; and, in order to preserve the Jewish character of the country in the case of an Arab majority, 3) set a cap on the number of non-Jews in the Knesset to 20 MKs. I was disgusted.

Our meeting ended before I could discuss the issue further, but in a conversation with another settler I brought up the "20 non-Jewish MKs" idea--which he liked--and unloaded my frustration. I asked him how such a plan would not undermine Israeli democracy and lead Israel into a Lebanese-style civil war over unfair parliamentary representation. Dismissive about the former scenario but catching my drift on the latter, he unveiled a plan of his own: generate mass Aliyah from North America with the offer of a free house.

These initial experiences have been enlightening, but it is clear I have just scratched the surface. As I look forward to exploring more areas for political gravity, I will also remain vigilant to the developments above. What will become of the ultra-nationalists' ploy to tear apart the fabric of Arab East Jerusalem? Will the settlement enterprise, whose members await illogical solutions to the conflict, be handed another victory in Migron? How can I work to combat these unjust acts, and begin to help create hope for peace? Perhaps it is best to start by letting others in this city know what is happening before their very eyes.