Earlier this month during the Taglit/Birthright trip I staffed, our Friday schedule included a tour of the Old City in Jerusalem, and a visit to the Kotel, the Western Wall. The night before, Yaniv, the tour guide with whom I staffed, told me that Friday would not be the best day for visiting Jerusalem. This was because the Israeli police expected riots on the Temple Mount that Friday(and for the Fridays since then) due to a construction project at the Mugrabi Gate.
The ramp that starts on the side of the Kotel and offers passage through the Mugrabi Gate to the Dome of Rock suffered severe damage from inclement weather a few years ago. Fearing injury, authorities closed the ramp and began plans to fix the structure. This is where the conflict starts and the situation gets interesting.
According to Kiyuko, a Japanese-American volunteer here at the journal, whose husband is a reporter for Reuters at the Jerusalem bureau, says whenever there is proposed construction in Israel, first a salvation dig must take place. Every layer of soil in Israel is replete with history of civilizations past. So, there has been some digging taking place.
When I stood atop the construction site for a new yeshiva overlooking the Kotel, the Al-Aqsa Mosque and the Dome of the Rock, I saw six workers and one small fork-lift/crane type vehicle. Mostly the men were standing around chatting, not really doing any work. Jokingly, I mused to myself that their job was to keep the dirt patted down because any other activity could incite riots. I don't think I'm too far off from the truth.
In looking into this situation, several points of view have been shared with me.
Kiyuko says archaeologists believe that beneath the Mugrabi ramp are the remains of King Solomon's Stables. If they are allowed the proper amount of space cleared and time to search, they can uncover this piece of ancient history.
Extrapolating from this viewpoint, Israel is taking the opportunity of the Mugrabi ramp reconstruction to further excavate and uncover more evidence of the Jewish People's history in this land. Less political a story is that these archaeologists, whose life's satisfaction is derived from such discoveries, simply want to uncover as much as they can.
According to the Muslim community, Israel is using the excuse of the Mugrabi ramp to dig under the Al-Aqsa mosque to undermine the foundations of the holy site, with the intent of causing the structure's collapse. This theory is discussed each Friday at the mosque during the Friday call to prayer. After the mandatory service, one of the religious leaders at the mosque gives and inspirational speech of sorts. Predictably, this public statement riles the crowds and stones are thrown over the wall, riots break out. During the first week something like 17 Israeli soldiers were wounded in the clashes.
In anticipation of confrontation, restrictions are placed on who gets to pray at the Al-Aqsa Mosque on Fridays these days. The army's orders forbid the entrance of tourists to the Temple Mount and Muslims under the age of 45. Outrage over the situation has crossed international borders. In Egypt last week, my friend Sammy Blumberg witnessed demonstrations protesting Israel and its Mugrabi activity.
Najat believes Israel is digging to prove something historic. She's familiar with Israel's attempt to prove the Jewish people's ancient ties to the Temple Mount but in doing so, she is of the camp that this will cause the collapse of the mosque.
George, at the hotel admits he's not exactly sure. "No one really knows what they're doing. They [Israel's government] have a history of sneaky operations," says George.
Another point of view is Shimi's. Shimi is a young Orthodox Jewish man. I put him in his early twenties. Red hair, lots of freckles, glasses and youth written all over his face, an exhilirating presence due to his passion for teaching all things Jewish. "Six men and a small tractor and that's where the world's eye is focused. Genocide in Sudan and the world's media is covering that mound of dirt," Shimi whispered as we looked over the Kotel, Al-Aqsa, and the Mugrabi ramp. The Jerusalem sky kaleidoscoping from orange to pink to lavender with the setting of the sun.
Shimi's understanding of the situation is that the Muslims are digging beneath the Al-Aqsa mosque, clearing out tunnels that had been filled to stabilize the mosque's foundation. They are doing this in order to erase any evidence of Jewish history beneath the mosque leading to what is beneath the Dome of the Rock. In doing so, they will cause the mosque's demise.
I feel like I'm living a choose your own adventure book and these are the options I have to continue to the journey.
On February 24, Ha'aretz reported that the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) is sending a delegation to "examine excavation work being conducted under the Mugrabi ramp leading to the Temple Mount."*
UNESCO hopes to allay some of the tension and suspiscion the Muslims have. The article also reported Prime Minister Ehud Olmert's visit to Turkey. Olmert showed photographs of the ramp to Turkish Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan who was not convinced that the plans would not jeopardize the stability of Al-Aqsa. "Olmert agreed to a Turkish suggestion for a technical team from Turkey to inspect the site."**
Whatever the truth may be, I see Olmert's agreeing to the Turkish as well as UNESCO's inspection of the project as an act of good faith. It also supports Olmert's statement that with regard to the Mugrabi ramp, Israel has nothing to hide. However, Ha'aretz reports today that "Israeli police...banned a press conference by opponents to Israeli excavation work near the Temple Mount."***
Organized by Hamas whose activities are prohibited in Israel, the police physically canceled the event at the Commodore Hotel here in East Jerusalem.
Every decision here is symbolic. Allowing the UN and Turkey to oversee this project, but disallowing a Hamas Party led press conference on the issue throws into the face of the Palestinians that their sovereignty is not even nearly recognized by Israel.
This is an excellent example of Israel's refusal to acknowledge the self-determination of the Palestinian people. And also how this behavior only heightens the tensions.
I understand that Hamas does not and will not recognize Israel. I haven't yet decided how I feel about this because I don't fully understand the rationale behind this stance. I do believe there is a rationale, or at the very least, I'm looking to find one and haven't yet given up.
Khaled Meshal is in Russia right now saying that until the occupation is ended and the Israelis apologize to the Palestinian people, Hamas will never recognize Israel. Also, along this line of thinking is what will the Palestinians gain from this recognition? Despite peace talks and previous agreements, Jewish settlements are still being built, one of the biggest obstacles to trust of the Israelis by the Palestinians. Why should they believe that Israel is merely conducting repairs on a ramp and not anything else?
As of today, Ha'aretz reports that "Israel says the dig is meant to salvage archaeological finds ahead of the construction of a new pedestrian walkway up to the hilltop compound, to replace one damged in a 2004 snowstorm. Israeli archaeologists insist there is no danger to the compound."****
I do not believe that Israel is trying to collapse the Al-Aqsa mosque. This would conceivably begin the war of wars in the Middle East. However, it is important to me to understand how repair of a ramp could cause such a hullabaloo.
It is significant that the UN and Turkey are allowed to weigh in on the project. That Hamas cannot hold a press conference on the subject, and Fatah is nowhere to be found.
It is significant that religious leaders in the mosque choose to highlight this project at Friday prayers, although for me this is hearsay. I do not know exactly what is being said, but I do know that riots have in fact occurred nearly every Friday this month at the Temple Mount.
It is important for me to say that such eruptions of violence on the Temple Mount are not about the Al-Aqsa mosque. Rather, it is a concrete issue, manipulated or otherwise by leaders who have their own agendas, that stokes the fires of frustration and oppression these people endure in their daily lives. A desperation I can best explain by the example of a man from the West Bank who came to the office today. He knocked on the door looking for work, any kind of work, cleaning, whatever, so that he may feed his children because there is no work for him at home.
It becomes easier to understand how someone would resort to throwing rocks at soldiers. Walking, armed symbols of one system that keeps them from feeding their children.
*/** http://www.haaretz.com/hasen/objects/pages/PrintArticleEn.jhtml?itemNo+830698
***/****http://www.haaretz.com/hasen/objects/pages/Print ArticleEN.jhtml?itemNo=831692
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Nablus Under Siege
On Sunday the Israeli Defense Forces uncovered a workshop for bomb construction in the West Bank City of Nablus. Since then the I.D.F. has held Nablus under siege. There are a few articles in Ha'aretz describing the campaign and the quest for seven suspected individuals behind these workshops. Another two bomb construction labs have been uncovered during this most recent campaign.
Najat is a wreck. Her friend who is a nurse in Nablus called today to describe what is happening there because she is frightened. The suspects they are looking for are boys of 17 and 18 years of age. There is a curfew and unceasing shooting. People have no food because they cannot leave their homes. The ambulances carrying wounded are being shot at. There is a need for medicine.
Najat keeps taking off her glasses and wiping her eyes.
Her friend says that yesterday a boy of thirteen was caught by the army. He was going to a neighbor's to get bread. The soldiers grabbed him and put him under the wheel of a tank. They screamed for the people to come out and see what they would do if anyone broke the curfew or the lock down. After threatening the boy with death, they let him go.
According to Al-Jazeera, the IDF pulled its troops out this morning at dawn. The mayor of Nablus asked the residents to resume normal life but there is suspicion that it is a temporary cease of the siege.
http://english.aljazeera.net/NR/exeres/191EC9B6-B0F7-43BF-905D-3E3519439CC9.htm
Najat asks if it is justified to completely thrash the entire City of Nablus for this search? Is it rational to put every individual in danger? Is it humane to deprive people of food and medicine?
She feels no one cares. She is Palestinian and so she doesn't exist. No one is helping, no one can do anything. She wants Israelis to go and see and tell her if what is happening is right. She can't understand how the Israeli people can stand by and let this happen, without question or protest.
More houses are being destroyed, more children traumatized, more hatred ignited.
Here in East Jerusalem things are quiet. The sun has come out from the clouds, the rain has stopped. It's so hard to believe that not so far away, one city is under siege.
I don't know what to do or what to say. Najat is overwhelmed with helplessness and I can offer no comfort. Her mouth is set firmly in a frown and she has put her eyeglasses on to focus on her work. Similar to yesterday's rain at which Najat stared at through the window, how many of these storms of her people has she witnessed, able only to watch?
The next few days will be fascinating. I wonder if this is the beginning of a cycle of violence. Jewish settler found dead in Hebron. Israeli army raids Nablus, uncovers bomb workshops, seeks out 7 (8 according to Al-Jazeera) suspects of crimes perpetrated. Nablus' streets are filled with debris and fear. What happens next? Who will administer what kind of justice from this most recent act of agression against the Palestinian people?
Najat is a wreck. Her friend who is a nurse in Nablus called today to describe what is happening there because she is frightened. The suspects they are looking for are boys of 17 and 18 years of age. There is a curfew and unceasing shooting. People have no food because they cannot leave their homes. The ambulances carrying wounded are being shot at. There is a need for medicine.
Najat keeps taking off her glasses and wiping her eyes.
Her friend says that yesterday a boy of thirteen was caught by the army. He was going to a neighbor's to get bread. The soldiers grabbed him and put him under the wheel of a tank. They screamed for the people to come out and see what they would do if anyone broke the curfew or the lock down. After threatening the boy with death, they let him go.
According to Al-Jazeera, the IDF pulled its troops out this morning at dawn. The mayor of Nablus asked the residents to resume normal life but there is suspicion that it is a temporary cease of the siege.
http://english.aljazeera.net/NR/exeres/191EC9B6-B0F7-43BF-905D-3E3519439CC9.htm
Najat asks if it is justified to completely thrash the entire City of Nablus for this search? Is it rational to put every individual in danger? Is it humane to deprive people of food and medicine?
She feels no one cares. She is Palestinian and so she doesn't exist. No one is helping, no one can do anything. She wants Israelis to go and see and tell her if what is happening is right. She can't understand how the Israeli people can stand by and let this happen, without question or protest.
More houses are being destroyed, more children traumatized, more hatred ignited.
Here in East Jerusalem things are quiet. The sun has come out from the clouds, the rain has stopped. It's so hard to believe that not so far away, one city is under siege.
I don't know what to do or what to say. Najat is overwhelmed with helplessness and I can offer no comfort. Her mouth is set firmly in a frown and she has put her eyeglasses on to focus on her work. Similar to yesterday's rain at which Najat stared at through the window, how many of these storms of her people has she witnessed, able only to watch?
The next few days will be fascinating. I wonder if this is the beginning of a cycle of violence. Jewish settler found dead in Hebron. Israeli army raids Nablus, uncovers bomb workshops, seeks out 7 (8 according to Al-Jazeera) suspects of crimes perpetrated. Nablus' streets are filled with debris and fear. What happens next? Who will administer what kind of justice from this most recent act of agression against the Palestinian people?
Monday, February 26, 2007
Mira and Shimrit
At the journal Mira is Lotahn's counterpart. That is, she is the PR go-to woman on the Palestinian side. Mira is gorgeous. She's as tall as me, slender, with straight thick almost black hair that hangs more than mid-way down her back. Her creamy brown complexion is flawless and her deep brown eyes are an incredible sight. Mira knows how to use her eye make-up to highlight these brown eyes of hers.
Last Wednesday Mira wore a sherbet-lime sweatshirt and the most perfectly matched eyeshadow, with turquoise eyeliner underneath. I can't forget this because this was the day I accompanied Mira to West Jerusalem to the Bookfair. Although I was not scheduled for a shift that day, I had to go with her because she'd never been to West Jerusalem. Taking a moment to register this information, I stared at Mira for more than a few seconds wondering how this could be.
From where I live in East Jerusalem, it is a 20 minute walk, at most, to the happening downtown area of West Jerusalem where Ben Yehuda meets Jaffa Street. Mira has lived here all the 24 years of her life and this commute that I made each day last week, she'd never had reason to do.
Mira is a Palestinian Christian. Recently, she began a fast until Easter that prohibits her eating much else but vegetables. Another stipulation of this Easter fast is that you are not to have sexual relations over the duration of the fast. However, as Mira is married, the fast rules over 60 days time do not apply to her. She says the abstaining from relations with one's husband is an unreasonable aspect of the fast and so tradition has it that a married woman need oberve the fast for one week in the beginning and one week in the end. For the rest of the year on Wednesdays and Fridays, Mira observes the rules of the fast, to fulfill the full obligation of fast days.
Mira lives in the West Bank. Each day she crosses a check point to get to work. Mira drives with her husband, Samer, each morning. He sells cosmetics in East Jerusalem and three other cities in the area, depending on what day of the week it is.
Mira and her husband were married last year after a rather turbulent courtship. The couple was introduced by mutual friends. Realizing they liked each other, Mira and Samer began to date. They had to keep their affection undercover however because Mira is a Christian and her husband is a Muslim.
In the Islamic tradition, a Muslim man may marry a non-Muslim wife. However, the children must be raised Muslim, after the father. The woman may elect to retain her religious tradition, or convert to Islam.
A Muslim woman may marry a Jew or a Christian, as these are people of the Book. However, the non-Muslim man that the Muslim woman marries must convert to Islam. The conversion must be voluntary and not merely an appeasment but rather, a sincere acceptance of Islam as the true religion. This is because the children take after the father's faith.
When Mira's family discovered her relationship with Samer, they objected. Mira and Samer broke up and pursued other relationships, sort of. Mira went through a period of deep depression. She tried to commit suicide. After which, her parents sent her to Amman to be with family, away from Samer and her memories. While in Amman, a cousin of Mira expressed interest and eventually proposed marriage to Mira. She accepted, but she says from a very numb place. Mira was just going through the motions. She returned to her home in the West Bank, and after awhile, the engagement was broken.
Meanwhile, Samer pursued another woman. He proposed to her and she accepted. But, days before the wedding, Samer called it off. Samer still loved Mira and Mira still loved Samer. All along they had been text messaging and calling one another, in spite of Mira's family's wishes that she not be in contact with Samer.
Mira and Samer began to date again. They decided they'd rather be together than apart. Mira's parents refused to talk to her for months. Eventually, they accepted her decision. Mira says the situation improved when her parents finally agreed to meet Samer's family. The families like each other and they get along. Life has become easier.
Mira told me a story about last Valentine's Day. She and Samer went to enjoy a romantic dinner at a restaurant near to where they live but opposite a check point. Upon returning home through the checkpoint, the soldiers made Mira get out of the car and walk through security while her husband drove. She had to also take off her boots and walk barefoot.
Lotahn, Mira and I walked to the bus station about ten minutes from the office. We waited for the number 6 bus that ends up at the Jerusalem New Central Bus Station across from the Congress Center, where the book fair was held. It was a beautiful day with sunshine and a pleasant breeze. I started asking Mira lots of questions about herself and her life, Lotahn whispered to me, "I'm glad you came with us."G
We arrived in West Jerusalem among the throngs of people walking about outside the Central Bus Station. Lotahn showed us an underground tunnel that cuts under and across the street to the Congress Cetner, saves time and increases safety avoiding crosswalks.
Going through security at the Congress Center, I heard Mira say to Lotahn, "this is what you mean that there is security at every door."
At our booth, which we shared with another organization called Windows for Peace, an Arabic and Hebrew language children's magazine, sat Shimrit. Shimrit is Israeli, from Tel Aviv, around 28 years old. She was happy to make the commute each day from Tel Aviv for the bookfair, as it got her out of the office. Moreover, it gave her the opportunity to take flute lessons from a Jerusalemite that specializes in the Arabic flute that Shimrit is learning to play.
Shimrit also refused service in the army, I found out. Basically, she got a doctor's note, a psychological evaluation excusing her from service. Shimrit feels the age at which the army comes in a young person's life is exactly when they need to discover who they are themselves. To be absorbed in a regimented system of rules and orders curtails that process of self-discovery. She said something like, "just when you are blossoming you are expected to submit to this system..."
Shimrit is short and petite, shoulder-length thick, black curly hair, and large features. I wonder if her family came to Israel from North Africa, or one of the Arab countries of the Middle East.
Shimrit and Mira and I discussed why it is that East and West Jerusalem are worlds apart to Israelis and Palestinians, respectively. And also, what are some of the obstacles to peace in this region.
Shimrit and Mira agreed that on the question of Jerusalem, there's nothing that they need to do, nor people they know who live on the other side. What's the point of going?
Mira says everything she needs can be found in East Jerusalem, she doesn't need to shop in West Jerusalem, which would be a reason for going there.
I asked Shimrit about the fear factor. That so many Israelis think --East Jerusalem-- shake their head and say "no way".
She agreed it's important to face those fears. But when we got into the political discussion, when Mira described her understanding of the situation, I understood Shimrit's body language as skeptical and alert. Her eyebrows furrowed and she became quiet and then distracted as Mira and I continued the conversation.
Specifically, I mentioned that each day I walk to the office, I take the long route, about 10-15 minutes walk around Salah-a-din. I like to see which shops open on time, later, earlier. What the Israeli police people are doing next to the post office. How many Israeli police officers are stationed at the gate entrance into the Old City, are there any barricades, etc...
I asked Shimrit and Mira what the effect of such security and random checks has on Palestinians, if it's acceptable, if security is a good enough rationalization for the both of them.
Mira understood the security issue, the threat of suicide bombers. But I think it's difficult to reconcile with her own frustrating experience with check points as she means no one harm. The harrassment factor therefore is rather prominent for her. But she seems to point the finger of blame at the Israeli government and its policies, the Israeli people aren't doing this to her.
Interestingly, Shimrit holds the people culpable for continued violence and chasm it makes between the Israelis and Palestinians. She feels Israelis should have experiences that challenge their pre-conceived notions of Palestinians, and Palestinians should do the same for Israelis.
I don't think Shimrit has visited East Jerusalem.
Honestly, I was frustrated with this interaction. I would think that these two young women, in the line of work that they're in, representing publications for peace and coexistence, they'd be more curious about each other and their life experiences. But, as Shimrit shared with me, she's not a part of Windows for Peace because she believes it's an answer to the conflict, or because she's a peace activist, but rather, it's a good job. Also, the organzation does good work, at the very least it doesn't exacerbate the situation.
As an Israeli, Shimrit has the option of turning awareness of injustice off and on. She can choose to engage with Mira and learn more and be touched by her experience, or she can simply do the task assigned to her and continue on. I don't begrudge this privilege that Shimrit possesses. I just want it for Mira, too.
Lotahn and Mira left me and Shimrit in order to do some potential publisher/distributor public relations work. I asked Lotahn if Mira and I could leave early in order to go to Mahane Yehuda and be back by three p.m. when Samer picks up Mira. He agreed that would be a nice idea.
It felt incredibly strange to show Mira around West Jerusalem. Me, a foreigner, visiting for a short time, directing her on the streets, explaining the layout, navigating the bus lines. Mira bought men's socks and undershirts for Samer. 10 NIS for three shirts. The socks per pair were a little more costly.
At one point Mira asked again the name of the market. When I told her she said, "you know Heidi, there are many explosions here."
I try not to think about such facts while shopping for chocolate rugelach and halvah.
Mira, I could sense, was a little nervous about time. And she admitted that her husband does not like for her to take buses. Fortunately, we made it back to East Jerusalem and the office in time.
Last Wednesday Mira wore a sherbet-lime sweatshirt and the most perfectly matched eyeshadow, with turquoise eyeliner underneath. I can't forget this because this was the day I accompanied Mira to West Jerusalem to the Bookfair. Although I was not scheduled for a shift that day, I had to go with her because she'd never been to West Jerusalem. Taking a moment to register this information, I stared at Mira for more than a few seconds wondering how this could be.
From where I live in East Jerusalem, it is a 20 minute walk, at most, to the happening downtown area of West Jerusalem where Ben Yehuda meets Jaffa Street. Mira has lived here all the 24 years of her life and this commute that I made each day last week, she'd never had reason to do.
Mira is a Palestinian Christian. Recently, she began a fast until Easter that prohibits her eating much else but vegetables. Another stipulation of this Easter fast is that you are not to have sexual relations over the duration of the fast. However, as Mira is married, the fast rules over 60 days time do not apply to her. She says the abstaining from relations with one's husband is an unreasonable aspect of the fast and so tradition has it that a married woman need oberve the fast for one week in the beginning and one week in the end. For the rest of the year on Wednesdays and Fridays, Mira observes the rules of the fast, to fulfill the full obligation of fast days.
Mira lives in the West Bank. Each day she crosses a check point to get to work. Mira drives with her husband, Samer, each morning. He sells cosmetics in East Jerusalem and three other cities in the area, depending on what day of the week it is.
Mira and her husband were married last year after a rather turbulent courtship. The couple was introduced by mutual friends. Realizing they liked each other, Mira and Samer began to date. They had to keep their affection undercover however because Mira is a Christian and her husband is a Muslim.
In the Islamic tradition, a Muslim man may marry a non-Muslim wife. However, the children must be raised Muslim, after the father. The woman may elect to retain her religious tradition, or convert to Islam.
A Muslim woman may marry a Jew or a Christian, as these are people of the Book. However, the non-Muslim man that the Muslim woman marries must convert to Islam. The conversion must be voluntary and not merely an appeasment but rather, a sincere acceptance of Islam as the true religion. This is because the children take after the father's faith.
When Mira's family discovered her relationship with Samer, they objected. Mira and Samer broke up and pursued other relationships, sort of. Mira went through a period of deep depression. She tried to commit suicide. After which, her parents sent her to Amman to be with family, away from Samer and her memories. While in Amman, a cousin of Mira expressed interest and eventually proposed marriage to Mira. She accepted, but she says from a very numb place. Mira was just going through the motions. She returned to her home in the West Bank, and after awhile, the engagement was broken.
Meanwhile, Samer pursued another woman. He proposed to her and she accepted. But, days before the wedding, Samer called it off. Samer still loved Mira and Mira still loved Samer. All along they had been text messaging and calling one another, in spite of Mira's family's wishes that she not be in contact with Samer.
Mira and Samer began to date again. They decided they'd rather be together than apart. Mira's parents refused to talk to her for months. Eventually, they accepted her decision. Mira says the situation improved when her parents finally agreed to meet Samer's family. The families like each other and they get along. Life has become easier.
Mira told me a story about last Valentine's Day. She and Samer went to enjoy a romantic dinner at a restaurant near to where they live but opposite a check point. Upon returning home through the checkpoint, the soldiers made Mira get out of the car and walk through security while her husband drove. She had to also take off her boots and walk barefoot.
Lotahn, Mira and I walked to the bus station about ten minutes from the office. We waited for the number 6 bus that ends up at the Jerusalem New Central Bus Station across from the Congress Center, where the book fair was held. It was a beautiful day with sunshine and a pleasant breeze. I started asking Mira lots of questions about herself and her life, Lotahn whispered to me, "I'm glad you came with us."G
We arrived in West Jerusalem among the throngs of people walking about outside the Central Bus Station. Lotahn showed us an underground tunnel that cuts under and across the street to the Congress Cetner, saves time and increases safety avoiding crosswalks.
Going through security at the Congress Center, I heard Mira say to Lotahn, "this is what you mean that there is security at every door."
At our booth, which we shared with another organization called Windows for Peace, an Arabic and Hebrew language children's magazine, sat Shimrit. Shimrit is Israeli, from Tel Aviv, around 28 years old. She was happy to make the commute each day from Tel Aviv for the bookfair, as it got her out of the office. Moreover, it gave her the opportunity to take flute lessons from a Jerusalemite that specializes in the Arabic flute that Shimrit is learning to play.
Shimrit also refused service in the army, I found out. Basically, she got a doctor's note, a psychological evaluation excusing her from service. Shimrit feels the age at which the army comes in a young person's life is exactly when they need to discover who they are themselves. To be absorbed in a regimented system of rules and orders curtails that process of self-discovery. She said something like, "just when you are blossoming you are expected to submit to this system..."
Shimrit is short and petite, shoulder-length thick, black curly hair, and large features. I wonder if her family came to Israel from North Africa, or one of the Arab countries of the Middle East.
Shimrit and Mira and I discussed why it is that East and West Jerusalem are worlds apart to Israelis and Palestinians, respectively. And also, what are some of the obstacles to peace in this region.
Shimrit and Mira agreed that on the question of Jerusalem, there's nothing that they need to do, nor people they know who live on the other side. What's the point of going?
Mira says everything she needs can be found in East Jerusalem, she doesn't need to shop in West Jerusalem, which would be a reason for going there.
I asked Shimrit about the fear factor. That so many Israelis think --East Jerusalem-- shake their head and say "no way".
She agreed it's important to face those fears. But when we got into the political discussion, when Mira described her understanding of the situation, I understood Shimrit's body language as skeptical and alert. Her eyebrows furrowed and she became quiet and then distracted as Mira and I continued the conversation.
Specifically, I mentioned that each day I walk to the office, I take the long route, about 10-15 minutes walk around Salah-a-din. I like to see which shops open on time, later, earlier. What the Israeli police people are doing next to the post office. How many Israeli police officers are stationed at the gate entrance into the Old City, are there any barricades, etc...
I asked Shimrit and Mira what the effect of such security and random checks has on Palestinians, if it's acceptable, if security is a good enough rationalization for the both of them.
Mira understood the security issue, the threat of suicide bombers. But I think it's difficult to reconcile with her own frustrating experience with check points as she means no one harm. The harrassment factor therefore is rather prominent for her. But she seems to point the finger of blame at the Israeli government and its policies, the Israeli people aren't doing this to her.
Interestingly, Shimrit holds the people culpable for continued violence and chasm it makes between the Israelis and Palestinians. She feels Israelis should have experiences that challenge their pre-conceived notions of Palestinians, and Palestinians should do the same for Israelis.
I don't think Shimrit has visited East Jerusalem.
Honestly, I was frustrated with this interaction. I would think that these two young women, in the line of work that they're in, representing publications for peace and coexistence, they'd be more curious about each other and their life experiences. But, as Shimrit shared with me, she's not a part of Windows for Peace because she believes it's an answer to the conflict, or because she's a peace activist, but rather, it's a good job. Also, the organzation does good work, at the very least it doesn't exacerbate the situation.
As an Israeli, Shimrit has the option of turning awareness of injustice off and on. She can choose to engage with Mira and learn more and be touched by her experience, or she can simply do the task assigned to her and continue on. I don't begrudge this privilege that Shimrit possesses. I just want it for Mira, too.
Lotahn and Mira left me and Shimrit in order to do some potential publisher/distributor public relations work. I asked Lotahn if Mira and I could leave early in order to go to Mahane Yehuda and be back by three p.m. when Samer picks up Mira. He agreed that would be a nice idea.
It felt incredibly strange to show Mira around West Jerusalem. Me, a foreigner, visiting for a short time, directing her on the streets, explaining the layout, navigating the bus lines. Mira bought men's socks and undershirts for Samer. 10 NIS for three shirts. The socks per pair were a little more costly.
At one point Mira asked again the name of the market. When I told her she said, "you know Heidi, there are many explosions here."
I try not to think about such facts while shopping for chocolate rugelach and halvah.
Mira, I could sense, was a little nervous about time. And she admitted that her husband does not like for her to take buses. Fortunately, we made it back to East Jerusalem and the office in time.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Avi's Point of View
Avi came to Israel in the 1960s from South Africa. He identifies himself as a Zionist. To Avi this means, "the future of the Jewish people is here [Israel}."
Avi calls himself a peace pacifist, different than a peace activist. He used to write for both the Jerusalem Post and the Jerusalem Report. Finished with the Jerusalem Post, Avi came to the Palestine Israel Journal in search of work. He is now the managing editor for the Israeli side.
Avi is an older gentleman with a younger wife and when I finally met his three sons aged 19-12, I made the embarassing mistake of asking if they were his grandchildren. His oldest son assured me it's a common mistake. I can tell that Avi enjoys his sons tremendously and in our conversations, it is clear that he takes great interest in the forming of their identities, including their national identities.
At the Jerusalem book fair Avi and I shared a long shift,which gave me the opportunity to understand his very different point of view on the work of the journal and the situation here in Israel/Palestine.
The next issue of the journal will focus on Jerusalem in commemoration of the 40th anniversary of the unification of the City of Gold. For the Palestinians, it is the 40th anniversary of the annexation of Jerusalem, or the "Naqba"-- catastrophe.
Avi takes issue with the historical canon on the effects of the 1967 war on Jerusalem, from the Palestinian point of view. According to Avi, prior to 1967 Jerusalem was under Jordanian rule and no one had freedom of movement, not Jews, not Palestians-- Muslim or Christian. When Israel entered Jerusalem and declared East Jerusalem as a part of Israeli territory, the era following that monumentous event was one of unparalleled and unrepeated openness. In fact, Avi claims that the street I now live on, Azzahra Street, was one of the most happening haunts of Israel. After he and his colleagues finished at the Jerusalem Post around midnight, they'd go in search of beer and women. While Azzahra Street offered few women socializing in the pubs, there was a lot of beer and late-night hours, unlike the neighborhoods of West Jerusalem.
Today on Azzahra Street, every shop closes its shutters and doors by night fall and few if any people are found on the streets. I'm still investigating the commonly agreed upon reasons that this is so...
Continuing with Avi, because we were conversing at the bookfair and had attend first to passersby, the conversation was rather jolted. I haven't had too much time to think and compare all he said, because he spoke more of history and not so much personal experience.
Here are some of the thought-provoking highlights:
Avi says the wall of separation is a direct response to suicide bombers.
http://www.unitedjerusalem.org/index2.asp?id=412158
http://www.jcpa.org/jl/vp513.htm
Avi says no Palestinian-led anti-terror group exists that protests the practice of suicide bombers.
http://www.cnsnews.com/ForeignBureaus/Archive/200401/FOR20040105f.html
http://www.worldnetdaily.com/news/article.asp?ARTICLE_ID=45509
http://www.ihrc.org.uk/show.php?id=31
http://www.cnn.com/2004/US/06/02/saudi.terror/index.html
Avi says had the Palestinians accepted and not attacked the declared state of Israel in 1948, the partition plan for Palestine included much more territory than what is possible today. The original plan included parts of the Galilee and the Negev.
http://www.ifamericansknew.org/history/origin.html
http://www.palestinefacts.org/pf_maps.php
http://www.representativepress.org/IsraelHistory.html
http://news.bbc.co.uk/hi/english/static/in_depth/world/2001/israel_and_palestinians/key_maps/6.stm
Avi says Ben Gurion took a genius chance in declaring a State of Israel inspired by the pressure of absorbing thousands of Jewish refugee Holocaust survivors when the world was rejecting these people left and right.
Avi says there is no free press of Palestine.
http://archives.cjr.org/year/93/6/palestine.asp
Avi laments that in this region the extremists on both sides have one, citing Yigal Amir, murderer of Yitzhak Rabin as the most successful assassin in history.
Avi believes that if the Palestinians within Israel would mobilize their electorate and vote in elections in Jerusalem, they may actually have their demands met and possibly elect a mayor of Jerusalem. Work within the system.
Avi points out that the most prominently recognized leader of the Palestinian people in 1948 was Muhammed Amin al-Husseini , the Grand Mufti of Jersualem, and one of Hitler's allies in the Middle East.
http://www.palestinefacts.org/pf_mandate_grand_mufti.php
http://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/jsource/biography/mufti.html
http://www.tellthechildrenthetruth.com/gallery/
http://www.tellthechildrenthetruth.com/ourmessage.html
Avi says indeed today Israel is the Goliath and Palestine the David.
Avi says Palestinian children are given five shekel to carry, unknowingly, explosive-rigged packages through checkpoints.
Avi told me about a pregnant Irish woman going through a security check on ELAL, who stated she was en route to meet her Palestinian fiance and father of her child, in Israel, specifically the West Bank. ELAL employees became suspicious and searched her bag, finding her suitcase included an explosive set up to explode mid-air. She was unaware that her entire relationship and the child in her womb were part of a plot of to terrorize Israel.
Avi states the self-destruction mentality of this region paralyzes the peace process.
With regard to the alleged Sabra/Shatila massacre of 1982, Israel is responsible fo Arabs killing Arabs when Israel thought it had an ally in the Phalangists of Lebanon, who clashed with the Lebanese Muslims.
http://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/jsource/History/Sabra_&_Shatila.html
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/2255902.stm
http://www.indictsharon.net/
http://electronicintifada.net/cgi-bin/artman/exec/view.cgi/7/1929
http://www.sabra-shatila.be/english/
Avi resents the comparison of Israel to South Africa in terms of apartheid. He points out anti-miscegenation laws in which South African police were ordered to go house to house to find mixed race couples in the act of having sex and punishing them accordingly. He's familiar with apartheid and firmly believes that Israel cannot be accused of practicing such a system of government.
http://www.africanaencyclopedia.com/apartheid/apartheid.html
http://www.zmag.org/Sustainers/Content/2003-08/13beal.cfm
Listening to Avi throws me into another confusion frenzy. When Avi recounts the horror stories of successful and failed suicide bomb attempts, in my mind I understand very well why Israel practices the policies it does. Security policy that is so strict that Israelis and visitors are aware of this reality at every entrace to every cafe, mall, or bus station. Just Friday on my way to Tel Aviv, I went through two security checks at the Jerusalem Central Bus Station and two more upon arrival in Tel Aviv. There is a police person on every single bus I ride and one stationed at most if not all bus stops.
Somewhere in all of this security, however, structural violence, profiling and angst has resulted on both sides. This is the stuff that I need to understand more of.
Avi calls himself a peace pacifist, different than a peace activist. He used to write for both the Jerusalem Post and the Jerusalem Report. Finished with the Jerusalem Post, Avi came to the Palestine Israel Journal in search of work. He is now the managing editor for the Israeli side.
Avi is an older gentleman with a younger wife and when I finally met his three sons aged 19-12, I made the embarassing mistake of asking if they were his grandchildren. His oldest son assured me it's a common mistake. I can tell that Avi enjoys his sons tremendously and in our conversations, it is clear that he takes great interest in the forming of their identities, including their national identities.
At the Jerusalem book fair Avi and I shared a long shift,which gave me the opportunity to understand his very different point of view on the work of the journal and the situation here in Israel/Palestine.
The next issue of the journal will focus on Jerusalem in commemoration of the 40th anniversary of the unification of the City of Gold. For the Palestinians, it is the 40th anniversary of the annexation of Jerusalem, or the "Naqba"-- catastrophe.
Avi takes issue with the historical canon on the effects of the 1967 war on Jerusalem, from the Palestinian point of view. According to Avi, prior to 1967 Jerusalem was under Jordanian rule and no one had freedom of movement, not Jews, not Palestians-- Muslim or Christian. When Israel entered Jerusalem and declared East Jerusalem as a part of Israeli territory, the era following that monumentous event was one of unparalleled and unrepeated openness. In fact, Avi claims that the street I now live on, Azzahra Street, was one of the most happening haunts of Israel. After he and his colleagues finished at the Jerusalem Post around midnight, they'd go in search of beer and women. While Azzahra Street offered few women socializing in the pubs, there was a lot of beer and late-night hours, unlike the neighborhoods of West Jerusalem.
Today on Azzahra Street, every shop closes its shutters and doors by night fall and few if any people are found on the streets. I'm still investigating the commonly agreed upon reasons that this is so...
Continuing with Avi, because we were conversing at the bookfair and had attend first to passersby, the conversation was rather jolted. I haven't had too much time to think and compare all he said, because he spoke more of history and not so much personal experience.
Here are some of the thought-provoking highlights:
Avi says the wall of separation is a direct response to suicide bombers.
http://www.unitedjerusalem.org/index2.asp?id=412158
http://www.jcpa.org/jl/vp513.htm
Avi says no Palestinian-led anti-terror group exists that protests the practice of suicide bombers.
http://www.cnsnews.com/ForeignBureaus/Archive/200401/FOR20040105f.html
http://www.worldnetdaily.com/news/article.asp?ARTICLE_ID=45509
http://www.ihrc.org.uk/show.php?id=31
http://www.cnn.com/2004/US/06/02/saudi.terror/index.html
Avi says had the Palestinians accepted and not attacked the declared state of Israel in 1948, the partition plan for Palestine included much more territory than what is possible today. The original plan included parts of the Galilee and the Negev.
http://www.ifamericansknew.org/history/origin.html
http://www.palestinefacts.org/pf_maps.php
http://www.representativepress.org/IsraelHistory.html
http://news.bbc.co.uk/hi/english/static/in_depth/world/2001/israel_and_palestinians/key_maps/6.stm
Avi says Ben Gurion took a genius chance in declaring a State of Israel inspired by the pressure of absorbing thousands of Jewish refugee Holocaust survivors when the world was rejecting these people left and right.
Avi says there is no free press of Palestine.
http://archives.cjr.org/year/93/6/palestine.asp
Avi laments that in this region the extremists on both sides have one, citing Yigal Amir, murderer of Yitzhak Rabin as the most successful assassin in history.
Avi believes that if the Palestinians within Israel would mobilize their electorate and vote in elections in Jerusalem, they may actually have their demands met and possibly elect a mayor of Jerusalem. Work within the system.
Avi points out that the most prominently recognized leader of the Palestinian people in 1948 was Muhammed Amin al-Husseini , the Grand Mufti of Jersualem, and one of Hitler's allies in the Middle East.
http://www.palestinefacts.org/pf_mandate_grand_mufti.php
http://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/jsource/biography/mufti.html
http://www.tellthechildrenthetruth.com/gallery/
http://www.tellthechildrenthetruth.com/ourmessage.html
Avi says indeed today Israel is the Goliath and Palestine the David.
Avi says Palestinian children are given five shekel to carry, unknowingly, explosive-rigged packages through checkpoints.
Avi told me about a pregnant Irish woman going through a security check on ELAL, who stated she was en route to meet her Palestinian fiance and father of her child, in Israel, specifically the West Bank. ELAL employees became suspicious and searched her bag, finding her suitcase included an explosive set up to explode mid-air. She was unaware that her entire relationship and the child in her womb were part of a plot of to terrorize Israel.
Avi states the self-destruction mentality of this region paralyzes the peace process.
With regard to the alleged Sabra/Shatila massacre of 1982, Israel is responsible fo Arabs killing Arabs when Israel thought it had an ally in the Phalangists of Lebanon, who clashed with the Lebanese Muslims.
http://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/jsource/History/Sabra_&_Shatila.html
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/2255902.stm
http://www.indictsharon.net/
http://electronicintifada.net/cgi-bin/artman/exec/view.cgi/7/1929
http://www.sabra-shatila.be/english/
Avi resents the comparison of Israel to South Africa in terms of apartheid. He points out anti-miscegenation laws in which South African police were ordered to go house to house to find mixed race couples in the act of having sex and punishing them accordingly. He's familiar with apartheid and firmly believes that Israel cannot be accused of practicing such a system of government.
http://www.africanaencyclopedia.com/apartheid/apartheid.html
http://www.zmag.org/Sustainers/Content/2003-08/13beal.cfm
Listening to Avi throws me into another confusion frenzy. When Avi recounts the horror stories of successful and failed suicide bomb attempts, in my mind I understand very well why Israel practices the policies it does. Security policy that is so strict that Israelis and visitors are aware of this reality at every entrace to every cafe, mall, or bus station. Just Friday on my way to Tel Aviv, I went through two security checks at the Jerusalem Central Bus Station and two more upon arrival in Tel Aviv. There is a police person on every single bus I ride and one stationed at most if not all bus stops.
Somewhere in all of this security, however, structural violence, profiling and angst has resulted on both sides. This is the stuff that I need to understand more of.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Lotahn Refusenik
Lotahn works as the public relations person on the Israeli side for the journal. He's an activist through and through. He avoids chocolate that isn't fair trade, refined sugar, and things that are not made from whole grains. I asked if he shops organic only, and similar to the United States, Lotahn says it's too expensive, but his parents do.
Lotahn came to the journal last May. It is but one of the many projects, human rights oriented, that he is involved with.
I met Lotahn, finally,after many phone conversations, at the 23rd annual Jerusalem International Book Fair where most of us at the journal have been taking shifts all week long. I wondered how Lotahn got into this kind of work. For some reason I thought a good place to start in order to find out would be to ask about Lotahn's experience in the I.D.F., the Israeli army.
"I refused," Lotahn replied.
In 1999 Lotahn decided to refuse army sevice on the basis that he felt Israel was carrying out racist policies, particularly in the territories. Also, he feels that although Israeli society raises and expeccts its youth to enter the army as a part of being Israeli, according to Lotahn it is a political statement to accept this assignment. It was his political statemtnt to refuse.
Lotahn is not a pacifist nor is he a conscientious objector (CO). He did not want the army to handle his case as such. In all the press attention his story received he made it very clear that there is a difference between a conscientious objector and one who is refusing to serve on political grounds.
At the time when Lotahn was dealing with this there were few cases like his. Not until 2003 was a committee formed to manage refuseniks. Rather, most soldiers found and continue to find other ways to avoid serving in the army. Certain psychological evaluations, for example, can be had that render one exempt from service.
Lotahn went to prison for two months after one month of having to report each day to the court while they deliberated what to do with him. While in prison he suffered no harm. He said he had to mop floors twice a day. Sharing Lohtan's prison space were AWOL soliders. He was grateful not to be put into the prison section with soldiers addicted to drugs and those convicted of violent crimes.
In my view, Lotahn's refusal to serve in the I.D.F. was a risky but noble act of national service. It is the responsibility of each individual to uphold his or her values and also the shared values of one's society. Lotahn felt and still feels that in many ways Israel betrays herself with racist policies, the occupation of the territories, and the general harassment the Palestinians face each day.
I would like to believe that he refused because more than anything or anyone he believes in this country, Israel. And he is practicing his democratic right to dissent and protest the policies of the State.
I am not saying, claiming or judging Israelis who do serve in the military. There aren't adequate words to express the gratitude and respect that I have for the men and women who knowingly sacrifice their lives to protect this country, some of whom I call my friends. Without them and the generations of Israel I.D.F. before them, Israel could not exist. But it takes all kinds to create a thriving, dynamic, democratic society. It is the push-pull of ideas and actions that keep us all going.
I respect Lotahn for his own sacrifice. I can only imagine the myriad ways in which he has made himself an outsider to his own society. And the limbo he exists in, trying to make peace and to bring justice to his home.
It is both the Lotahns and the soldiers of Israel that spark the ongoing dilaogue and conflict that shapes the many faces of this relatively new country. And it is the same people who are itnegral to the future of the Palestinians in their quest to have a homeland of their own.
It is not useful to be afraid or scorn individuals like Lotahn. In fact he will not cause the demise of the State of Israel. But he is a reminder, a living truth, that ultimately we are human beings practicing free will and we have choices to make about our lives and the way we live them and how that lifestyle affects those around us, and those around them. What is today is of our own making. A power not to be underestimated.
What Lotahn teaches me is the importance of questioning and sometimes challenging status quo. Most of us are asleep and simply content to follow in line without really understanding where we came from, and indeed therefore, unaware of the direction in which we are headed. And so we live in a world today where most of us feel powerless in the face of all that ails the world.
For more about Lotahn:
http://www.geocities.com/TimesSquare/6634/
http://www.wri-irg.org/pubs/pfp99-en.htm
http://www.geocities.com/TimesSquare/6634/information.html
Lotahn came to the journal last May. It is but one of the many projects, human rights oriented, that he is involved with.
I met Lotahn, finally,after many phone conversations, at the 23rd annual Jerusalem International Book Fair where most of us at the journal have been taking shifts all week long. I wondered how Lotahn got into this kind of work. For some reason I thought a good place to start in order to find out would be to ask about Lotahn's experience in the I.D.F., the Israeli army.
"I refused," Lotahn replied.
In 1999 Lotahn decided to refuse army sevice on the basis that he felt Israel was carrying out racist policies, particularly in the territories. Also, he feels that although Israeli society raises and expeccts its youth to enter the army as a part of being Israeli, according to Lotahn it is a political statement to accept this assignment. It was his political statemtnt to refuse.
Lotahn is not a pacifist nor is he a conscientious objector (CO). He did not want the army to handle his case as such. In all the press attention his story received he made it very clear that there is a difference between a conscientious objector and one who is refusing to serve on political grounds.
At the time when Lotahn was dealing with this there were few cases like his. Not until 2003 was a committee formed to manage refuseniks. Rather, most soldiers found and continue to find other ways to avoid serving in the army. Certain psychological evaluations, for example, can be had that render one exempt from service.
Lotahn went to prison for two months after one month of having to report each day to the court while they deliberated what to do with him. While in prison he suffered no harm. He said he had to mop floors twice a day. Sharing Lohtan's prison space were AWOL soliders. He was grateful not to be put into the prison section with soldiers addicted to drugs and those convicted of violent crimes.
In my view, Lotahn's refusal to serve in the I.D.F. was a risky but noble act of national service. It is the responsibility of each individual to uphold his or her values and also the shared values of one's society. Lotahn felt and still feels that in many ways Israel betrays herself with racist policies, the occupation of the territories, and the general harassment the Palestinians face each day.
I would like to believe that he refused because more than anything or anyone he believes in this country, Israel. And he is practicing his democratic right to dissent and protest the policies of the State.
I am not saying, claiming or judging Israelis who do serve in the military. There aren't adequate words to express the gratitude and respect that I have for the men and women who knowingly sacrifice their lives to protect this country, some of whom I call my friends. Without them and the generations of Israel I.D.F. before them, Israel could not exist. But it takes all kinds to create a thriving, dynamic, democratic society. It is the push-pull of ideas and actions that keep us all going.
I respect Lotahn for his own sacrifice. I can only imagine the myriad ways in which he has made himself an outsider to his own society. And the limbo he exists in, trying to make peace and to bring justice to his home.
It is both the Lotahns and the soldiers of Israel that spark the ongoing dilaogue and conflict that shapes the many faces of this relatively new country. And it is the same people who are itnegral to the future of the Palestinians in their quest to have a homeland of their own.
It is not useful to be afraid or scorn individuals like Lotahn. In fact he will not cause the demise of the State of Israel. But he is a reminder, a living truth, that ultimately we are human beings practicing free will and we have choices to make about our lives and the way we live them and how that lifestyle affects those around us, and those around them. What is today is of our own making. A power not to be underestimated.
What Lotahn teaches me is the importance of questioning and sometimes challenging status quo. Most of us are asleep and simply content to follow in line without really understanding where we came from, and indeed therefore, unaware of the direction in which we are headed. And so we live in a world today where most of us feel powerless in the face of all that ails the world.
For more about Lotahn:
http://www.geocities.com/TimesSquare/6634/
http://www.wri-irg.org/pubs/pfp99-en.htm
http://www.geocities.com/TimesSquare/6634/information.html
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Familiarizing People and Places II
My first night at the Azzahra Hotel the fact that I was no longer with a large group of people hit me and I sought some company from those down in the lobby. The hotel is owned by a Palestinian Christian family. This has been their family business since 1961. Three of the siblings help to run the hotel: George, James and Ro'ina. There is a Jacob as well but I think he is a cousin.
Not knowing what or who I would find down in the lobby I brought my book, a jar of sage tea I purchased at the Druze villge Peqi'in, and some water. The downstairs of the hotel is beautiful. There are several salons with high ceilings and tapestries, rugs and such. There is also a restaurant with a lovely bar and a wood-burning pizza oven imported from Italy. The hotel restaurant boasts the best pizza outside of Italy.
I approached the bar and asked for a glass of hot water. This is when I met some of the characters of the Azzahra Hotel. Abad is one of the servers. He's on the short and petite side with medium-long straight black hair, wears eyeglasses and has some facial hair that makes him look like a manly mouse, if you will. He swoops through the restaurant whenever and wherever he is needed. He also likes loud music as he is a percussionist. Later in the night he turns on his Sony, music playing phone and plays air drums, banging his head up and down. This makes me giggle.
Abad gave me a glass of hot water and I took it into the more well-lit room. The tea I drank was dried sage. I mention this because at one point I started laughing at myself, trying to be indiscreet and nonchalant, putting dried sage leaves into hot water and realizing that in order to drink this tea, my teeth would have to serve as a sieve through which the leaves caught instead of slipping down my throat. Discreetly I kept pulling tea leaves out of my mouth and stuffing them into a napkin, while trying to read and be cool.
Quickly, I would say, I finished my tea and returned the glass. Smartest thing I did all night.
George, one of the owner-brothers and I began conversing. Why are you here? Where are you from? etc...I couldn't help myself and launched right into the questions that were burning.
George only returned to East Jerusalem last September. Since the early 90s George had been living in New York. He studied Economics at NYU and sounds like he had a pretty comfortable and stable life there. He visited his family, only through the airport in Amman because whenever he tries to fly out through Tel Aviv, he is interrogated for six hours and the hassle isn't worth it. He too holds a blue identity card.
I asked George if he returned for his family or for his people. He looked at me and said, "that's a loaded question."
I didn't know what that meant and asked him to explain.
He continued that things here are complicated. He came for his family because they needed help running the hotel. He's not so sure about his people. Palestinian Christians have a hard time amongst Palestinian Muslims. In fact, George's family came here from Syria generations ago because the Muslims in Syria were slaughtering the Christians. They found refuge in Palestine.
There is a lot of bigotry, George says. There are fewer and fewer Palestinian Christians in Israel, especially in Gaza and the West Bank, and also Bethlehem and Nazareth despite the close ties to Jesus Christ. It is an easier life outside of Israel, for both internal Palestinian reasons, and external reasons.
George invited me to join him for nargile. Naturally, I obliged. Sitting across from him, passing the pipe back and forth, allowed for us both to make the commitment to sit and talk. I was thrilled.
Conversing with George was an intricate negotiation process. I could sense that in order to get more information from him, I too had to be human. Amongst the socio-political analyses, the topics turned to discussion of family-- mine, his, music-- blues, classic rock, film---as a powerful medium for learning about the peoples of the world.
George told me that he can't believe I'm only here for a month. How is that enough time to really understand all the different people? He's right, everyone is telling me this. However, I believe my insistence for seizing the moments I do have inspired him to keep talking. Also, he had a sizable martini that Jacob called a "Bond martini", shaken not stirred with a lemon twist.
"In vino, veritas," said George.
George shared that in order for his family to be all together, a great deal of organization is necesary. Countries have to be traveled, permits ensured, and while his family is close, they haven't really been altogether in about 11 years.
I can't even imagine this reality, this truth. I admitted to him that perhaps one of the reasons I'm staying only a month in East Jerusalem is my fear of getting homesick. My privileged life allows me to walk to my grandparents' home, meet my mother and aunt for coffee with few interruptions or schedule conflicts, and any given night, I can have dinner with my mom and dad, or choose to skip out.
I began to wonder if families who are separated for so long eventually become estranged from one another. I imagine that if you are prevented by several forces from seeing your loved ones, eventually the pain becomes so intense that the spirit-heart-body shuts down in order to survive. And how does that affect one's psyche? Can you ever trust people? When things are going good do you doubt you deserve it and end up self-sabotaging your happier moments in time?
George isn't the only one in his family frustrated by the internal conflict of the Palestinians. His sister Ro'ina is also feeling this, so George says. It's difficult to feel a part of the community when you are looked down upon or discriminated against for being Christian.
Our conversation had to end however, as customers entered the restaurant. George excused himself to don his pizza-maker smock and took his place as pizza chef extraordinaire.
Not knowing what or who I would find down in the lobby I brought my book, a jar of sage tea I purchased at the Druze villge Peqi'in, and some water. The downstairs of the hotel is beautiful. There are several salons with high ceilings and tapestries, rugs and such. There is also a restaurant with a lovely bar and a wood-burning pizza oven imported from Italy. The hotel restaurant boasts the best pizza outside of Italy.
I approached the bar and asked for a glass of hot water. This is when I met some of the characters of the Azzahra Hotel. Abad is one of the servers. He's on the short and petite side with medium-long straight black hair, wears eyeglasses and has some facial hair that makes him look like a manly mouse, if you will. He swoops through the restaurant whenever and wherever he is needed. He also likes loud music as he is a percussionist. Later in the night he turns on his Sony, music playing phone and plays air drums, banging his head up and down. This makes me giggle.
Abad gave me a glass of hot water and I took it into the more well-lit room. The tea I drank was dried sage. I mention this because at one point I started laughing at myself, trying to be indiscreet and nonchalant, putting dried sage leaves into hot water and realizing that in order to drink this tea, my teeth would have to serve as a sieve through which the leaves caught instead of slipping down my throat. Discreetly I kept pulling tea leaves out of my mouth and stuffing them into a napkin, while trying to read and be cool.
Quickly, I would say, I finished my tea and returned the glass. Smartest thing I did all night.
George, one of the owner-brothers and I began conversing. Why are you here? Where are you from? etc...I couldn't help myself and launched right into the questions that were burning.
George only returned to East Jerusalem last September. Since the early 90s George had been living in New York. He studied Economics at NYU and sounds like he had a pretty comfortable and stable life there. He visited his family, only through the airport in Amman because whenever he tries to fly out through Tel Aviv, he is interrogated for six hours and the hassle isn't worth it. He too holds a blue identity card.
I asked George if he returned for his family or for his people. He looked at me and said, "that's a loaded question."
I didn't know what that meant and asked him to explain.
He continued that things here are complicated. He came for his family because they needed help running the hotel. He's not so sure about his people. Palestinian Christians have a hard time amongst Palestinian Muslims. In fact, George's family came here from Syria generations ago because the Muslims in Syria were slaughtering the Christians. They found refuge in Palestine.
There is a lot of bigotry, George says. There are fewer and fewer Palestinian Christians in Israel, especially in Gaza and the West Bank, and also Bethlehem and Nazareth despite the close ties to Jesus Christ. It is an easier life outside of Israel, for both internal Palestinian reasons, and external reasons.
George invited me to join him for nargile. Naturally, I obliged. Sitting across from him, passing the pipe back and forth, allowed for us both to make the commitment to sit and talk. I was thrilled.
Conversing with George was an intricate negotiation process. I could sense that in order to get more information from him, I too had to be human. Amongst the socio-political analyses, the topics turned to discussion of family-- mine, his, music-- blues, classic rock, film---as a powerful medium for learning about the peoples of the world.
George told me that he can't believe I'm only here for a month. How is that enough time to really understand all the different people? He's right, everyone is telling me this. However, I believe my insistence for seizing the moments I do have inspired him to keep talking. Also, he had a sizable martini that Jacob called a "Bond martini", shaken not stirred with a lemon twist.
"In vino, veritas," said George.
George shared that in order for his family to be all together, a great deal of organization is necesary. Countries have to be traveled, permits ensured, and while his family is close, they haven't really been altogether in about 11 years.
I can't even imagine this reality, this truth. I admitted to him that perhaps one of the reasons I'm staying only a month in East Jerusalem is my fear of getting homesick. My privileged life allows me to walk to my grandparents' home, meet my mother and aunt for coffee with few interruptions or schedule conflicts, and any given night, I can have dinner with my mom and dad, or choose to skip out.
I began to wonder if families who are separated for so long eventually become estranged from one another. I imagine that if you are prevented by several forces from seeing your loved ones, eventually the pain becomes so intense that the spirit-heart-body shuts down in order to survive. And how does that affect one's psyche? Can you ever trust people? When things are going good do you doubt you deserve it and end up self-sabotaging your happier moments in time?
George isn't the only one in his family frustrated by the internal conflict of the Palestinians. His sister Ro'ina is also feeling this, so George says. It's difficult to feel a part of the community when you are looked down upon or discriminated against for being Christian.
Our conversation had to end however, as customers entered the restaurant. George excused himself to don his pizza-maker smock and took his place as pizza chef extraordinaire.
El Dorado Explosion
After Najat showed me around my new neighborhood, we parted ways at the corner closest to my hotel. She advised I go inside and put some real shoes on as the clouds were gathering once again, threatening rain. Of course I was too excited to take this good advice, bade her farewell and went to explore on my own, to be sure that I knew my way around without a helping hand.
Najat tells me that there is no way to get lost here as the streets are nothing but circles and no matter where you start you always end up there, again. I wonder if that's how she feels about the situation of her people. I'm certainly feeling that way about Israel.
I found the fruit vendor Najat suggested and purchased two tangerines, one avocado and a handful of Jordan dates. The kind owner laughed as we counted together from one through ten in Arabic. I'll have to visit him again for the next lesson. I also stopped by the bakery for some bread and other delectables both sweet and savory. Amazing how a few words in Arabic curries great favor and big smiles from most everyone. I hope to be able to say more than, hello, thank you, a thousand lights of day, praise be to God, etc...I myself am becoming weary of my limited vocabulary.
I decided that in order to really feel at home in the neighborhood I needed to plant myself at a cafe awhile. Anyone who knows me is well-acquainted with my cafe-sitting habits and so why would I be any different here?
The El Dorado Cafe is a beautiful shop on Salah-ah-din, around the corner from my house. There are literally walls of chocolates from the world over, wrapped in brightly-colored cellophane and foil, orange, red, yellow, green, blue, pink, magenta. Needless to say I feel that I am in good company in the El Dorado.
Two young men were running the counter and suggested I take a seat upstairs where there were tables. I ordered a cafe Americano and much to my joy and ease, Omar, the barista was familiar with the beverage. In East Jerusalem he has been the only one acquainted with the Americano. Other baristas are definitely considering me an idiot when I explain, Americano-- espresso with hot water. What do I get? An espresso. They must be thinking, what does this woman take us for? Of course an espresso involves hot water.
I took my seat upstairs as close to the window as possible. No sooner had I pulled out my book and journal than my coffee arrived. I have to admit it's difficult to read right now when my head is swimming with thoughts and the complicated, mind-whirling stories I have heard in the hours I've been here in East Jerusalem. Sort of reading, sort of thinking, sipping coffee and chewing on the inside of my cheek I looked outside the window and noticed an Israeli Police SUV with blue lights twirling and flashing.
For about a second I considered staying put but my hands started to put my things away and I went downstairs. Israeli police had closed the road and they were pushing people into stores and closing doors. I peeked outside to see what was happening and a soldier started yelling, I assume telling me and the others to stay inside, close the door. Omar the barista was laughing and kept opening the door so the soldier had to continue to come by and close it. He said to me, "are you ready to go now? because you can't, they 've closed the street."
I asked what was going on and the response was "bullshit, they think something is a bomb and they're going to explode it."
Hmph. What news. Sure enough, a soldier suddenly appeared across the street from the shop. He had a helmet with a glass visor and he wore a vest. Some contraption was in his hand that was cylindrical in shape, green and black in color, a wire connecting the machine to something else I couldn't see as I was stuck inside the shop and I felt it inappropriate at this point to open the door and step outside.
Moreover, I felt that torn feeling I get right now about living and working amongst Palestinians and seeing Israeli soldiers randomly frisking men on sidewalks and patrolling the nearest gate to the Old City, guns and helmets. So recently I befriended an incredible group of soldiers that joined my birthright trip. I keep seeing their faces and it's confusing and haunting. I'm trying to wriggle into the minds of all the people I see, to understand how they feel and what different symbols on the streets mean to them, like the symbol of an Israeli soldier about to explode a suitcase against a garage door next to a dress shop on Salah-ah-Din.
A medium-sized black suitcase was carried by the soldier to the garage door and the device was hooked up to it. Once again the soldier made sure no one was in the way or nearby. I looked to the roof of the building across from me and saw three young boys half hanging over the roof, smiles of excitement, entertainment, amusement...
Maybe ten feet away from the suitcase the soldier kneeled next to the exlposion device that was no more than a foot high. He pushed the button and the blast happened. It was probably a second-long, the suitcase inflated with air, lifted off the ground and fell back down, strips of material now hanging off like straggly, wind-torn banners.
I saw the whole thing happen and still the blast made me jump. Tears filled my eyes. I don't think with fear but just discomfort and dread. Everyone else around me was wildly amused. This was the afternoon show. The soldiers were laughed at for their seriousness and urgency.
After the explosion the soldier detached the contraption from the suitcase, shook out the bag a few times, dropped it and walked away. The police cars rolled out and the street traffic resumed. Groups of boys collected around the bag and kicked it around. But simply, life continued.
I paid for my coffee, took a deep breath and walked outside to photograph the suitcase and the blast-hole the explosion left in the garage door next to the dress shop.
What if there had been something in that bag? Why did they explode it amongst all those people, next to so many beautiful shops? Was there another option? Like an explosion truck. Is it significant that this suitcase was exploded in plainview for all to see?
When I accompanied Najat to the doctor the other morning she pointed out the dilapidated state of the hospital building. She said the owner wants to renovate but they live in fear that all will be destroyed so why invest, as long as it's safe?
What if the blasting device had a stronger impact and shattered the glass of the dress shop next door or the El Dorado across the street? What kind of society can possibly formulate around the constant threat of destruction?
I rememberd my final errand to find toilet paper and continued down the street.
Najat tells me that there is no way to get lost here as the streets are nothing but circles and no matter where you start you always end up there, again. I wonder if that's how she feels about the situation of her people. I'm certainly feeling that way about Israel.
I found the fruit vendor Najat suggested and purchased two tangerines, one avocado and a handful of Jordan dates. The kind owner laughed as we counted together from one through ten in Arabic. I'll have to visit him again for the next lesson. I also stopped by the bakery for some bread and other delectables both sweet and savory. Amazing how a few words in Arabic curries great favor and big smiles from most everyone. I hope to be able to say more than, hello, thank you, a thousand lights of day, praise be to God, etc...I myself am becoming weary of my limited vocabulary.
I decided that in order to really feel at home in the neighborhood I needed to plant myself at a cafe awhile. Anyone who knows me is well-acquainted with my cafe-sitting habits and so why would I be any different here?
The El Dorado Cafe is a beautiful shop on Salah-ah-din, around the corner from my house. There are literally walls of chocolates from the world over, wrapped in brightly-colored cellophane and foil, orange, red, yellow, green, blue, pink, magenta. Needless to say I feel that I am in good company in the El Dorado.
Two young men were running the counter and suggested I take a seat upstairs where there were tables. I ordered a cafe Americano and much to my joy and ease, Omar, the barista was familiar with the beverage. In East Jerusalem he has been the only one acquainted with the Americano. Other baristas are definitely considering me an idiot when I explain, Americano-- espresso with hot water. What do I get? An espresso. They must be thinking, what does this woman take us for? Of course an espresso involves hot water.
I took my seat upstairs as close to the window as possible. No sooner had I pulled out my book and journal than my coffee arrived. I have to admit it's difficult to read right now when my head is swimming with thoughts and the complicated, mind-whirling stories I have heard in the hours I've been here in East Jerusalem. Sort of reading, sort of thinking, sipping coffee and chewing on the inside of my cheek I looked outside the window and noticed an Israeli Police SUV with blue lights twirling and flashing.
For about a second I considered staying put but my hands started to put my things away and I went downstairs. Israeli police had closed the road and they were pushing people into stores and closing doors. I peeked outside to see what was happening and a soldier started yelling, I assume telling me and the others to stay inside, close the door. Omar the barista was laughing and kept opening the door so the soldier had to continue to come by and close it. He said to me, "are you ready to go now? because you can't, they 've closed the street."
I asked what was going on and the response was "bullshit, they think something is a bomb and they're going to explode it."
Hmph. What news. Sure enough, a soldier suddenly appeared across the street from the shop. He had a helmet with a glass visor and he wore a vest. Some contraption was in his hand that was cylindrical in shape, green and black in color, a wire connecting the machine to something else I couldn't see as I was stuck inside the shop and I felt it inappropriate at this point to open the door and step outside.
Moreover, I felt that torn feeling I get right now about living and working amongst Palestinians and seeing Israeli soldiers randomly frisking men on sidewalks and patrolling the nearest gate to the Old City, guns and helmets. So recently I befriended an incredible group of soldiers that joined my birthright trip. I keep seeing their faces and it's confusing and haunting. I'm trying to wriggle into the minds of all the people I see, to understand how they feel and what different symbols on the streets mean to them, like the symbol of an Israeli soldier about to explode a suitcase against a garage door next to a dress shop on Salah-ah-Din.
A medium-sized black suitcase was carried by the soldier to the garage door and the device was hooked up to it. Once again the soldier made sure no one was in the way or nearby. I looked to the roof of the building across from me and saw three young boys half hanging over the roof, smiles of excitement, entertainment, amusement...
Maybe ten feet away from the suitcase the soldier kneeled next to the exlposion device that was no more than a foot high. He pushed the button and the blast happened. It was probably a second-long, the suitcase inflated with air, lifted off the ground and fell back down, strips of material now hanging off like straggly, wind-torn banners.
I saw the whole thing happen and still the blast made me jump. Tears filled my eyes. I don't think with fear but just discomfort and dread. Everyone else around me was wildly amused. This was the afternoon show. The soldiers were laughed at for their seriousness and urgency.
After the explosion the soldier detached the contraption from the suitcase, shook out the bag a few times, dropped it and walked away. The police cars rolled out and the street traffic resumed. Groups of boys collected around the bag and kicked it around. But simply, life continued.
I paid for my coffee, took a deep breath and walked outside to photograph the suitcase and the blast-hole the explosion left in the garage door next to the dress shop.
What if there had been something in that bag? Why did they explode it amongst all those people, next to so many beautiful shops? Was there another option? Like an explosion truck. Is it significant that this suitcase was exploded in plainview for all to see?
When I accompanied Najat to the doctor the other morning she pointed out the dilapidated state of the hospital building. She said the owner wants to renovate but they live in fear that all will be destroyed so why invest, as long as it's safe?
What if the blasting device had a stronger impact and shattered the glass of the dress shop next door or the El Dorado across the street? What kind of society can possibly formulate around the constant threat of destruction?
I rememberd my final errand to find toilet paper and continued down the street.
Familiarizing with people and places I
The Palestine Israel Journal is around the corner from my hotel on Al-Hriri street. During a break in the rain I made my way out of the internet shop and found my way to #4 Al-Hriri. The plaque outside the door indicates that an insurance office is here. Upon inspection of the directory, I discovered the name of the Palestinian editor Mr. Ziad Abu-Zayyid. I walked up a flight of stairs and found myself at the door of the Palestine Israel Journal.
The office reminds me of the Tibetan Nuns Project in Dharamsala. The rooms are old and worn, white walls with a blue tinge from the reflection of the fluorescent lights, tiles on the floor are chipped. There is a small kitchen, a bathroom and several offices filled with books and stacks of the recently published journal. In the hallway there is the smell of stale cigarettes that trails to the back office and an ashtray filled with cigarette butts. Inside the office I'm working in, a cylindrical, bug-zapper looking heater keeps the chill out of the air.
I arrived as two of the journal's staff sat down to lunch. Pita and hummus, another bean dish, onions, pickles and tomatoes. They offered me some sage tea. This is Avi and Najat.
Avi is from South Africa, he came to Israel in 1959 following his Zionist dream and through his wrinkles and bushy white eyebrows, he bitterly laughed that now he is the occupier. He is the managing editor on the Israeli side. He has written for the Jerusalem Post and continues to write for the Jerusalem Report in addition to his work here. He lives near the big Jerusalem mall and has seen his children grow and learn in this country. I spoke to him very briefly and hope to pick his brain more as time goes on.
Najat's family has always lived in the Jerusalem area. Her grandmother and mother lived through the Deir Yassin massacre of 1948. Her grandmother was sixteen-years old and a mother of two. Najat's mother was only 6 days old when the Irgun came through the village and murdered men, women and children. Najat's mother grew up under the roof of her grandfather and her main dream in life was to have what she never had-- a large, healthy and thriving family.
Najat has 10 brothers and sisters, the youngest is 19 years old, they are scattered across Israel/Palestine and Germany. Each of them has received a university education and both mother and father play a significant role in the life of their children and now, grandchildren. Najat's father helps her to understand why and how it is her mother can be so overbearing and suffocating in her love and concern.
Najat has family in Ramallah not 20 minutes drive from here minus checkpoints and other detours. But for fera of not being able to return back into Jerusalem, Najat hasn't seen her Ramallah family in three years.
Najat's sister in Germany has to return every six months to maintain her blue identity card, which is not citizenship but rather obligtes her to pay taxes, health insurance and maintains her rights to the land her family owns. When she married a German citizen the Israeli government tried to revoke her blue identity card and encouraged her to seek German citizenship. She hired an Israeli immigration lawyer who has successfully regained the blue identity card and now Najat's sister must return every sixth months in order to keep the blue card valid. This and another story I heard last night which I will mention later is leading me to understand that the Israeli government is using all means and ways necessary and possible to move these people out of this area. Make them a German citizen, an American citizen, make it as hard as possible to continue living here, make it gruesome, tiresom and uncomfortable and maybe they'll give up. This is what I gather from those I've spoken with thus far.
Najat comes from a wealthy family. They have 4 clothing stores here in East Jerusalem and several properties. Najat and her father used to go to West Jerusalem where her father had business. However, Najat hasn't been back since she was twelve years old. Of course there is a story.
At Mahane Yehuda, the most vibrant, incredible and delicious market I have ever seen, and where I visited before Shabbat on Friday for chocolate rugelach from Marzipan Bakery, Najat's first experience with hatred occurred. She said that she and her father were shopping and visiting other shopkeepers when she saw t-shirt she admired. She mentioned it to her father and the shopkeeper overheard her interest in the t-shirt. His response included calling her a dirty Arab and that he wouldn't sell a thing to her and her people. Najat hasn't been back since. I haven't asked Najat her age yet but I imagine this was 20 plus years ago.
Yesterday I accompanied Najat to the post office and she gave me a tour of my neighborhood. Across from the post office is one of the gates to the Old City. There are Israeli police outside the gate and they may stop whomever they choose and search their person and their belongings. Najat expressed both the humiliation and the frustration with this policy. Including the fact that male soldiers search female civilians which of course, violates the modesty customs of Arab culture and most certainly that of the more religious Muslims.
She shared with me her own checkpoint experience during which she was searched and stopped once trying to get to work. For not cooperating entirely, she was kicked in the back by a soldier and fell to the ground. She arrived at the office her an hour and a half after she left her home, what is usually a twenty minute commute.
I'm trying to figure out a way to ask certain questions because when Najat tells me these stories I am horrified and saddened, but right behind that is : but what about suicide bombers? How are the Israelis supposed guess who is harmful and not without searching people? What is the answer to not wanting to profile every Palestinian, but not wanting to be the soldier that allows passage for someone determined to do harm?
So far it seems like there's a disbelief or detachment from the people that blow themselves up and those who don't. I don't hear much concern or comment on that. From Najat's point of view, as an educated woman and peace worker, being assumed guilty is entirely degrading. I understand that. But I don't know what is the effective alternative.I do know that the methods in place now are only serving to infuriate, embitter and inflame the feelings of hatred and disgust. I imagine on both sides.
I asked Najat if she believes in her work. She said yes, she does. It is because she accepts that no one is going anywhere. I think this is the most practical truth about the situation. People, Israelis and Palestinians are established here. The goal then has to be, first and foremost, finding ways to spread acceptance of that basic fact. I'm understanding that that reality is not a common demoninator here.
The office reminds me of the Tibetan Nuns Project in Dharamsala. The rooms are old and worn, white walls with a blue tinge from the reflection of the fluorescent lights, tiles on the floor are chipped. There is a small kitchen, a bathroom and several offices filled with books and stacks of the recently published journal. In the hallway there is the smell of stale cigarettes that trails to the back office and an ashtray filled with cigarette butts. Inside the office I'm working in, a cylindrical, bug-zapper looking heater keeps the chill out of the air.
I arrived as two of the journal's staff sat down to lunch. Pita and hummus, another bean dish, onions, pickles and tomatoes. They offered me some sage tea. This is Avi and Najat.
Avi is from South Africa, he came to Israel in 1959 following his Zionist dream and through his wrinkles and bushy white eyebrows, he bitterly laughed that now he is the occupier. He is the managing editor on the Israeli side. He has written for the Jerusalem Post and continues to write for the Jerusalem Report in addition to his work here. He lives near the big Jerusalem mall and has seen his children grow and learn in this country. I spoke to him very briefly and hope to pick his brain more as time goes on.
Najat's family has always lived in the Jerusalem area. Her grandmother and mother lived through the Deir Yassin massacre of 1948. Her grandmother was sixteen-years old and a mother of two. Najat's mother was only 6 days old when the Irgun came through the village and murdered men, women and children. Najat's mother grew up under the roof of her grandfather and her main dream in life was to have what she never had-- a large, healthy and thriving family.
Najat has 10 brothers and sisters, the youngest is 19 years old, they are scattered across Israel/Palestine and Germany. Each of them has received a university education and both mother and father play a significant role in the life of their children and now, grandchildren. Najat's father helps her to understand why and how it is her mother can be so overbearing and suffocating in her love and concern.
Najat has family in Ramallah not 20 minutes drive from here minus checkpoints and other detours. But for fera of not being able to return back into Jerusalem, Najat hasn't seen her Ramallah family in three years.
Najat's sister in Germany has to return every six months to maintain her blue identity card, which is not citizenship but rather obligtes her to pay taxes, health insurance and maintains her rights to the land her family owns. When she married a German citizen the Israeli government tried to revoke her blue identity card and encouraged her to seek German citizenship. She hired an Israeli immigration lawyer who has successfully regained the blue identity card and now Najat's sister must return every sixth months in order to keep the blue card valid. This and another story I heard last night which I will mention later is leading me to understand that the Israeli government is using all means and ways necessary and possible to move these people out of this area. Make them a German citizen, an American citizen, make it as hard as possible to continue living here, make it gruesome, tiresom and uncomfortable and maybe they'll give up. This is what I gather from those I've spoken with thus far.
Najat comes from a wealthy family. They have 4 clothing stores here in East Jerusalem and several properties. Najat and her father used to go to West Jerusalem where her father had business. However, Najat hasn't been back since she was twelve years old. Of course there is a story.
At Mahane Yehuda, the most vibrant, incredible and delicious market I have ever seen, and where I visited before Shabbat on Friday for chocolate rugelach from Marzipan Bakery, Najat's first experience with hatred occurred. She said that she and her father were shopping and visiting other shopkeepers when she saw t-shirt she admired. She mentioned it to her father and the shopkeeper overheard her interest in the t-shirt. His response included calling her a dirty Arab and that he wouldn't sell a thing to her and her people. Najat hasn't been back since. I haven't asked Najat her age yet but I imagine this was 20 plus years ago.
Yesterday I accompanied Najat to the post office and she gave me a tour of my neighborhood. Across from the post office is one of the gates to the Old City. There are Israeli police outside the gate and they may stop whomever they choose and search their person and their belongings. Najat expressed both the humiliation and the frustration with this policy. Including the fact that male soldiers search female civilians which of course, violates the modesty customs of Arab culture and most certainly that of the more religious Muslims.
She shared with me her own checkpoint experience during which she was searched and stopped once trying to get to work. For not cooperating entirely, she was kicked in the back by a soldier and fell to the ground. She arrived at the office her an hour and a half after she left her home, what is usually a twenty minute commute.
I'm trying to figure out a way to ask certain questions because when Najat tells me these stories I am horrified and saddened, but right behind that is : but what about suicide bombers? How are the Israelis supposed guess who is harmful and not without searching people? What is the answer to not wanting to profile every Palestinian, but not wanting to be the soldier that allows passage for someone determined to do harm?
So far it seems like there's a disbelief or detachment from the people that blow themselves up and those who don't. I don't hear much concern or comment on that. From Najat's point of view, as an educated woman and peace worker, being assumed guilty is entirely degrading. I understand that. But I don't know what is the effective alternative.I do know that the methods in place now are only serving to infuriate, embitter and inflame the feelings of hatred and disgust. I imagine on both sides.
I asked Najat if she believes in her work. She said yes, she does. It is because she accepts that no one is going anywhere. I think this is the most practical truth about the situation. People, Israelis and Palestinians are established here. The goal then has to be, first and foremost, finding ways to spread acceptance of that basic fact. I'm understanding that that reality is not a common demoninator here.
Azahra Street
I left the Fuchsberg Center and the USY Youth Director trip about 30 minutes ago, in the heart of West Jerusalem. There the buildings are larger than life and gleaming after the storm that passed through this morning while we were davening Shacharit. Rosh Chodesh today, a new month, the month of Adar.
The past two weeks have been one big Israel love fest to say the least. My heart is overwhelmed in kaleidoscopic designs of the majesty and mystery of the Jewish homeland. Through soldiers and peers, tour guides and people on the streets, I am reminded how Israel pulses with life and joy. I remember something I perhaps never understood, the invaluable gift, luxury, privilege and coveted reality of having a country in which one can practice who they are without fear of violence, discrimination or expulsion.
The State of Israel is thriving. It is no longer a Zionist State living a Zionist vision. I think this is important to mention and in the next breath say that it in fact is still the realization of a Zionist Dream. From what I've gathered thus far, Israel and Israelis are at the brink of an identity revolution. These people protect this nation not because they are Jews first, but because they are Israelis. The people they love, the land they work, the inventions they create, the food they eat, all the fruits of their labors as Israelis speaking Hebrew with two cell phones, one in hand, one dorkily clipped to the lapel of a shirt. The girls are dressed in that all too familiar urban boho fashion and the boys range from skater to rasta wannabes.
Capoeira circles with bimbao and sparring duos, and Japanese choirs singing Hallelujah up and down Ben Yehuda Street. Coffee Bean, Aroma, so many shawarma shops you just can't figure out how they all make it.
Hearing Hebrew alone, constantly, is a mind trip. Particularly learning slang and remembering that this language was consciously adapted from Bibilical times as part of the strategy to create a Jewish homeland. The immensity of this vision and its realization continues to wash over me. It's what every people oppressed in this world dream, fight, yearn and die for. It is the desire for this dream's actualization and that it has not yet come true that drapes the street I now find myself on, in an internet shop, with a somber tension.
The muezzin's call. It's time to pray. I hear it behind the hum of the computers, above the din of the radio and the cars sputtering back and forth outside the shop. The rain has started again.
I can't believe I am now here. I had to convince the cab driver across the street from the Fuchsberg Center to take me here. I pulled out the map and showed him exactly where it was and that please, it is after all on the way to the Hebrew University. Two other cab drivers told me to go to the "other side" of the street where an Arab driver would take me. Amazing, because 10 minutes ride later, I have arrived in another world.
The past two weeks have been one big Israel love fest to say the least. My heart is overwhelmed in kaleidoscopic designs of the majesty and mystery of the Jewish homeland. Through soldiers and peers, tour guides and people on the streets, I am reminded how Israel pulses with life and joy. I remember something I perhaps never understood, the invaluable gift, luxury, privilege and coveted reality of having a country in which one can practice who they are without fear of violence, discrimination or expulsion.
The State of Israel is thriving. It is no longer a Zionist State living a Zionist vision. I think this is important to mention and in the next breath say that it in fact is still the realization of a Zionist Dream. From what I've gathered thus far, Israel and Israelis are at the brink of an identity revolution. These people protect this nation not because they are Jews first, but because they are Israelis. The people they love, the land they work, the inventions they create, the food they eat, all the fruits of their labors as Israelis speaking Hebrew with two cell phones, one in hand, one dorkily clipped to the lapel of a shirt. The girls are dressed in that all too familiar urban boho fashion and the boys range from skater to rasta wannabes.
Capoeira circles with bimbao and sparring duos, and Japanese choirs singing Hallelujah up and down Ben Yehuda Street. Coffee Bean, Aroma, so many shawarma shops you just can't figure out how they all make it.
Hearing Hebrew alone, constantly, is a mind trip. Particularly learning slang and remembering that this language was consciously adapted from Bibilical times as part of the strategy to create a Jewish homeland. The immensity of this vision and its realization continues to wash over me. It's what every people oppressed in this world dream, fight, yearn and die for. It is the desire for this dream's actualization and that it has not yet come true that drapes the street I now find myself on, in an internet shop, with a somber tension.
The muezzin's call. It's time to pray. I hear it behind the hum of the computers, above the din of the radio and the cars sputtering back and forth outside the shop. The rain has started again.
I can't believe I am now here. I had to convince the cab driver across the street from the Fuchsberg Center to take me here. I pulled out the map and showed him exactly where it was and that please, it is after all on the way to the Hebrew University. Two other cab drivers told me to go to the "other side" of the street where an Arab driver would take me. Amazing, because 10 minutes ride later, I have arrived in another world.
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