Perhaps he lived in one of the nearby refugee camps, where thousands of people crowded into a few acres of densely packed concrete buildings. He likely encountered water scarcity and frequent power outages from the Israeli-controlled utility companies, similar to the blackout I experienced the day before.

If he was fortunate enough to own a car, its white Palestinian license plate would prompt searches and frequent delays at military checkpoints. Meanwhile, Israeli citizens bearing yellow license plates are permitted to take more direct routes on well-maintained roads. International travel also presents a challenge, since the Israeli government controls every major airport.

I reached down and felt the small collection of coins in my pocket. Palestine is not permitted to mint its own currency, so the people use Israeli Shekels from the other side of the wall. Each coins Hebrew inscription serves as yet another daily reminder of the occupying force.

Moreover, money is altogether tight within such a constrained economy. I later realized the cost of my trip to Palestine was greater than its current GDP per capita. Much of this hardship is due to the permit system Israel uses to stifle economic activity in Palestine. These regulations restrict the peoples right to use their land for farming, building or digging for natural resources.

Yet amidst all these challenges, Palestinians muster an unbridled spirit of hope. Never in my life have I encountered such a juxtaposition of overwhelming oppression and genuine hospitality. I met refugees, business owners, professors, taxi drivers, religious leaders and many other welcoming hosts. Just about anyone I asked could tell me the names of friends and family members who had been injured, arbitrarily arrested, evicted from their homes or even killed by the Israeli military.

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Jan 27 Opinion: The human rights crisis I never knew existed - Lee Clarion Online