Today, I went to Jericho, near the Dead Sea, with Amoun for a girls' day and to run a few errands (like buy four trash bags of vegetables and fruits, since it is insanely cheaper). We hit a checkpoint, where they always, and I mean always, check your ID. We drove up, I was getting out my passport when Amoun rested her hand on the wheel, lazily yet full of confidence and force leaned out of the window, and said to the Israeli guard, Shalom, happy feast! (in Hebrew). And they just waved us on through. Even though everyone else in front of us had to stop. I looked at her in amazement, and said, 'how did you do that?' Her response: 'Dear, you just have to act like you occupy them.' She rocks.
So I have yet to talk about Hebron, although it was a week and three posts ago. Hebron is the largest city in the West Bank, and is one of the stark, visual representations of the clashes between settlers and Palestinians on a daily basis. There are over 80 Jewish families living in a settlement in Hebron, literally in some instances on top of Palestinian homes and businesses. Since the settlers arrived in 1948, there have been numerous clashes and conflicts in the city, with deaths on both sides. The settlers refuse to leave (Hebron is considered the second holiest city in Judaism), and the Palestinians face severe security and economic limitations because of their presence. In 1997, the Hebron Agreement divided the city into two zones, H1 and H2. H1 is controlled by the Palestinian Authority, and H2 is the under the jurisdiction of the Israeli government and settlers. Yet over 30,000 Palestinians (and around 500 Jews) lived in the area deamed H2, and on a daily basis they find their lives severely limited. Many of the Arab businesses were shut down (for example, the pad locked doors), they are unable to freely move from their homes, face curfews, and must enter and exit multiple checkpoints on a daily basis. They can't even bring an ambulance in.
When we were walking around, we saw many visual examples of the constant clashes- 'Death to Arabs' written in Hebrew, graffiti, security cameras, watchtowers, bullet holes, and barbwire. When we were walking through a open-air market, there was a covering above to keep the trash and concrete blocks thrown by the settlers from hitting the Palestinians below (pics). We also had to turn around at one point from the direction we were walking, because Israeli soldiers were man-handling a Palestinian at a checkpoint, and the soldiers were shooing everyone away from visual sight.
We ended up meeting a man who's brother was a local activist and peace advocate. He invited us into his home, (and when we were standing outside, we could literally see and hear the settlers above the foliage on the hill) and described his work. He showed us videos shot on cameras given to them by B'tselem, and we saw settlers throwing rocks at Palestinian school children, and the verbal and physical abuse they deal with on a daily basis. These people have to keep steel-iron bars on their windows for protection, and find their property vandalized on regular occasion. I was getting mad, but all this man did was sit there and advocate peace. That's it. Non-violent resistance.
I cannot adequately describe the feelings of that day. I don't really want to analyze, defend, or argue. I think it all speaks louder than my words could convey.
And on that note, I had this conversation this week with a guy who was an IDF soldier in Hebron.
There is a folklore in Jewish mythology of a creature known as גולם, or 'Golem,' which is made of inanimate objects to become alive with the task of protecting the Jewish population. The most popular story is that of a Rabbi in Prague creating one to protect the ghetto against anti-semitic attacks. It came alive when the the word written on his forhead, 'met', translated as 'dead', added an alif (making the word 'emet', which made it 'truth'. The myth is that the alive Golem, while protecting the Jewish population, was not particularly smart, but performed according to instructions and with no emotion or connection. An Israeli here explained this story to me after I asked about his Hebrew tattoo, which was 'emet'. The meaning for him was twofold: one, he was a journalist, and it was a commitment and representation of everything he had ever written being the absolute truth. Two, it was his feelings about his relationship with the army and his country. From the beginning of his reluctant participation in the army, and continued contribution to it for over 20 years, he saw himself doing so as a 'golem'. He does it for the good of what he loves, but just goes through the motions and follows the instructions, without enthusiasm, forgetting what he had to see and do as a part of his role in protecting his understanding of Jewish society and 'identity'. To make the connection, in his former posts in Hebron, he was responsible for keeping both sides from killing each other, and therefore witnessed some of the worst on a daily basis. After speaking with him on multiple occasions, he is helpful, thoughtful, intelligent, funny, and all around an awesome dude. Yet this was part of who he is....and dramatic drum roll into the identity discussion!
Note: So this part post might be a little boring for some, delving a just a little of the rough- of the beginning- of the don't judge me yet-research stuff- but it is here by request of others. Much love.
I think the golem story is one of many examples demonstrating how impossible it is to box this stuff up in a nice, neat package. The more I try to tap into trying to understand it, the more 'Israeli identity' makes me want to throw my hands up in frustration. It's something that has captured a huge part of my project, as I look at the Gypsies. It's something that inadvertently shapes conversations such as the one above. I have a feeling such individuals exist on all sides, side-stepping humanity as 'golems' for a while to promote and protect that definition of identity (note: my interpretation, he didn't actually say the whole humanity thing). And it breaks down in so many ways, not only 'Arab' versus 'Jewish'. Much of the literature breaks it down into 4 national cleavages: 'Arab-Jewish', 'ethnic-class', 'religious-secular', and 'left-right'. Jerusalem is the central-point of this calsh of cleavages, encompassing all of these 'identities' in a city of 750,000, and what it means for how it uniquely defines the operation of such a centralized governmental structure. There is a lot of awesome literature on this, but I won't bore it with you here- just a taste.
It is within this clash of different identities that i find the Gypsies so interesting. As the golem example indicates, the stand-offs of identity and its connection with this land are intense and passion-driven (all about stating the obvious...). How does this small community, that most Israelis don't even know exists, fit into all of this? Today, looking at the most discussed cleavage, Arab-Jewish. They are Muslim. Some of the women wear the hijab. They speak Arabic, listen to Arabic music, and eat Arab food. Their families are spread throughout the West Bank and the Gaza Strip. They are not identified separately by the Israeli government as a minority, and the average Israeli wouldn't be able to tell the difference between an Arab and a Gypsy. Most hold identity cards, rather than Israeli passports. In the few instances they do marry outside of the Gypsies, it is often to an Arab.
But they are not accepted by the Arab population. They refuse to take a political stance of pick a side (despite prodding on my part). Personal examples demonstrate they do not always take the side of their Arab neighbors. Some of the children go to schools run by the Palestinian Authority, some to schools run by the municipality. The center finds much of its support from the Jewish population (many on the board are), and their persecuted pasts, including the Holocaust, and search for a homeland, creates a sense of understanding the Gypsies draw upon in their relations with the Jewish population.
I try to pick up on Amoun's dialogue to decipher how she sees herself and her community. On a few occasions, she will reference the Arab culture and include herself in that description (she is half Egyptian, her family being one of the few examples of marrying outside of the community). But more often than not, it's Gypsy- and she pulls on the differences between Gypsies and Arabs often. She makes a concerted effort to not take sides- she won't join the Palestine facebook community, or the Israeli one for that matter. When we talk about news stories, she calls out both sides and their exaggerations.
Yet when it comes to the cultural stuff, it is obvious that they find stronger identity with their Palestinian neighbors, although how far that translates into political and social spheres is debatable. I think a part of their resistance is to maintain that Gypsy identity that has been seeping away after years of both self-afflicted and societal-enforced assimiliation, in response to avoiding descrimination and changing lifestyles.
Anyway, this is one angle I am looking at for research- but there is still a hell of a long way to go, and more stuff for me to research, and more ideas to change, and more 'duh, you sound like an idiot' stuff for me to edit in terms of concepts and analysis. The goal is to further explore through the oral histories.
So I know who the cool people are that made it through this post, and the next time I ask you 'what is the arabic word for ice cream?' and you say 'buuza,' you get a special prize :)
And pertinent quote of the day on my blog: It is justice, not charity, that is wanting in the world. – Mary Shelley (1797-1851)
Friday, May 29, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
When It's Done, We'll Walk Where the Road Meets the Sun
I can now say I have left something of value in Israel. The girls now know the Macarena, from start to finish. They pronounce it more 'macaroni', but they have got the moves down, apparent through the repeated performances throughout the day. Mission accomplished.
Israel Update (for some context):
Israel isn't a fan of Hilary Clinton, and is going to continue building settlements in the West Bank. Woohoo diplomatic freeze.
There is a new bill in the Knesset in Israel by right wing policy makers to 'outlaw' the denial of the Jewish state of Israel- or better put, "call to negate Israel's existence as a Jewish and democratic state, where the content of such publication would have a reasonable possibility of causing an act of hatred, disdain or disloyalty." It is mostly aimed at Israeli-Arabs, and would mean that public displays of 'Nakba', or the catastrophe (name for the birth of the Israeli state) would be illegal and punishable with prison. Oh, the ever changing definition of 'democracy' and 'free speech.'
My favorite commentary of the week (it's good). My favorite song of the week, with all kinds of abstract symbolism I pulled from it AND it has the violin. Love it. ( for those of you looking for a mood description). And to keep going on this strand of thought, movie of the week. Mostly because I'm using parts of Mulan to teach the girls English (they love walking around repeating Let's Get Down to Business...) I might have some feminist motivations, as well...
The Jewish holiday Shavout is this weekend, where hundreds of thousands of Israelis are expected to take part in the traditional nighttime Torah studies for tonight's tikkun leil Shavuot. (I stole that from Haartez). From what I've gathered, the secular Jews flock to the coast and holiday destinations, and the religious ones flock to the Old City (in this case, the Western Wall). Therefore, I'm looking forward to a Pope repeat of fun and transportation limitations due to my convenient location. I'm kind of excited though, its my first Jewish holiday!
This week at the center has been an interesting one- not to get all self-evaluating here or anything, but I accept the fact it takes a while for me to warm up to people (unapproachable, it has been called). This week, I think, was the first week that I felt completely at home and in turn, they felt at home with me. Amoun has started to confide in me, and has shared her tears and frustrations (and there are legitimately a lot). We make fun of each other, and she has no problem openly criticizing me (most often my clothing choice and cleaning skills...although in my defense, these people clean hardcore, sweeping, mopping, scrubbing, three times a day). While the open arms of welcome were always there, as individuals and personalities, we are clicking. Honestly, most of it had to do with me allowing Amoun to fuss over me. It has now become her mission to 'fix my skin/scars,' and play matchmaker (oi). Today, I got a Gypsy remedy for scars, which included raw eggs, carrots, and honey smathered on my face for a half hour, and a 'special' oil. She evaluated the progress all day, chattering in Arabic with the other women about it (not to make me self conscious, or anything). The girls have found a morbid fascination with it as well, with (Anti jamilla jidan, lakin hadda mish jamil....(point and tsk, tsk, tsk). I now have diet demands, including carrots for breakfast and khalas with the hummus and falafel (I cheat). She is also flabbergasted I'm not seeing anyone (tsk, a girl like you?-although the quality versus quantity argument gained me some points back). She is determined to connect me with a former volunteer, who is now galavanting around China, informing she sent an email to him that she had found him 'the beautiful, smart one' he is looking for. Oh fantastic. I'm just grateful she is aiming for someone I'll never meet, rather than a family member or something.
Oh, and she cut my hair today. Maybe a better way to put it is chopped it off- apparently I need a new look, as well?
Exams are almost over, which I am excited about, because that means we can actually start on English lessons they will actually use. The program used by the Palestinian Authority of the State of Palestine (legit, its on their textbooks) is abysmal. Amoun learned fluent English by peddling postcards on the street, and not a lick of it from actually going to school. Some students from BYU are starting to volunteer next week, and I'm going to be working with them to develop a two month program based on real-world application (rather than learning the names of farm animals that don't even live in the Middle East). I'm really excited about it.
SO much more to talk about, but my battery is dying and I left my transformer at the center. Tomorrow, I head to Jericho with Amoun to deliver some humanitarian aid to some of the Gypsy families there.
Kudos to everyone who just made it through this post.
Israel Update (for some context):
Israel isn't a fan of Hilary Clinton, and is going to continue building settlements in the West Bank. Woohoo diplomatic freeze.
There is a new bill in the Knesset in Israel by right wing policy makers to 'outlaw' the denial of the Jewish state of Israel- or better put, "call to negate Israel's existence as a Jewish and democratic state, where the content of such publication would have a reasonable possibility of causing an act of hatred, disdain or disloyalty." It is mostly aimed at Israeli-Arabs, and would mean that public displays of 'Nakba', or the catastrophe (name for the birth of the Israeli state) would be illegal and punishable with prison. Oh, the ever changing definition of 'democracy' and 'free speech.'
My favorite commentary of the week (it's good). My favorite song of the week, with all kinds of abstract symbolism I pulled from it AND it has the violin. Love it. ( for those of you looking for a mood description). And to keep going on this strand of thought, movie of the week. Mostly because I'm using parts of Mulan to teach the girls English (they love walking around repeating Let's Get Down to Business...) I might have some feminist motivations, as well...
The Jewish holiday Shavout is this weekend, where hundreds of thousands of Israelis are expected to take part in the traditional nighttime Torah studies for tonight's tikkun leil Shavuot. (I stole that from Haartez). From what I've gathered, the secular Jews flock to the coast and holiday destinations, and the religious ones flock to the Old City (in this case, the Western Wall). Therefore, I'm looking forward to a Pope repeat of fun and transportation limitations due to my convenient location. I'm kind of excited though, its my first Jewish holiday!
This week at the center has been an interesting one- not to get all self-evaluating here or anything, but I accept the fact it takes a while for me to warm up to people (unapproachable, it has been called). This week, I think, was the first week that I felt completely at home and in turn, they felt at home with me. Amoun has started to confide in me, and has shared her tears and frustrations (and there are legitimately a lot). We make fun of each other, and she has no problem openly criticizing me (most often my clothing choice and cleaning skills...although in my defense, these people clean hardcore, sweeping, mopping, scrubbing, three times a day). While the open arms of welcome were always there, as individuals and personalities, we are clicking. Honestly, most of it had to do with me allowing Amoun to fuss over me. It has now become her mission to 'fix my skin/scars,' and play matchmaker (oi). Today, I got a Gypsy remedy for scars, which included raw eggs, carrots, and honey smathered on my face for a half hour, and a 'special' oil. She evaluated the progress all day, chattering in Arabic with the other women about it (not to make me self conscious, or anything). The girls have found a morbid fascination with it as well, with (Anti jamilla jidan, lakin hadda mish jamil....(point and tsk, tsk, tsk). I now have diet demands, including carrots for breakfast and khalas with the hummus and falafel (I cheat). She is also flabbergasted I'm not seeing anyone (tsk, a girl like you?-although the quality versus quantity argument gained me some points back). She is determined to connect me with a former volunteer, who is now galavanting around China, informing she sent an email to him that she had found him 'the beautiful, smart one' he is looking for. Oh fantastic. I'm just grateful she is aiming for someone I'll never meet, rather than a family member or something.
Oh, and she cut my hair today. Maybe a better way to put it is chopped it off- apparently I need a new look, as well?
Exams are almost over, which I am excited about, because that means we can actually start on English lessons they will actually use. The program used by the Palestinian Authority of the State of Palestine (legit, its on their textbooks) is abysmal. Amoun learned fluent English by peddling postcards on the street, and not a lick of it from actually going to school. Some students from BYU are starting to volunteer next week, and I'm going to be working with them to develop a two month program based on real-world application (rather than learning the names of farm animals that don't even live in the Middle East). I'm really excited about it.
SO much more to talk about, but my battery is dying and I left my transformer at the center. Tomorrow, I head to Jericho with Amoun to deliver some humanitarian aid to some of the Gypsy families there.
Kudos to everyone who just made it through this post.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Pics
Hello all!
1. New pics are up- on the left side of the blog. Explanations for Hebron forthcoming. I'm just slow.
2. I need more than another month here. I need more than another six.
3. There are an exuberant number of self-proclaimed know-it-alls here and its driving me crazy. No, you are not the leader that has been missing. No, you will not bring both sides to their senses. No, being an American 'with perspective' does not make you better apt to do so. So stop talking about it. Please. I'm an idealist, really, but the swoop-in-and-save-you mentality gets no one anywhere. Learn, understand, play whatever small role works for you in activism, research, or interest- but stop telling me how you can fix it. Go do something.
Or let me know when Abbas and Netanyahu want you to sit down for tea. Then you can tell me to stuff it.
4. Gypsies rock. They have been discriminated against for generations because everyone else was jealous. Khalas.
Disclaimer: Take this post as me blowing off steam.
1. New pics are up- on the left side of the blog. Explanations for Hebron forthcoming. I'm just slow.
2. I need more than another month here. I need more than another six.
3. There are an exuberant number of self-proclaimed know-it-alls here and its driving me crazy. No, you are not the leader that has been missing. No, you will not bring both sides to their senses. No, being an American 'with perspective' does not make you better apt to do so. So stop talking about it. Please. I'm an idealist, really, but the swoop-in-and-save-you mentality gets no one anywhere. Learn, understand, play whatever small role works for you in activism, research, or interest- but stop telling me how you can fix it. Go do something.
Or let me know when Abbas and Netanyahu want you to sit down for tea. Then you can tell me to stuff it.
4. Gypsies rock. They have been discriminated against for generations because everyone else was jealous. Khalas.
Disclaimer: Take this post as me blowing off steam.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Lion's Gate Welcome
1. Just got out of a cab with a friend who speaks Hebrew, and after I stopped zoning out and paid attention (since the extent of my Hebrew is mazel tov and leila tov) , realized he was Arab, and then conversed in Arabic which a) means I'm getting the Palestinian dialect down enough for very, very general convos and 2) cab drivers are the coolest people in all countries (insert 'Gypt reference).
2. So every article on the front page of Haaretz online today concerned terorrism, the Holocaust, or nuclear weapons. Every. Single. One-minus the one about a Jewish poet pretending to be Arab (gasp!). And it's the liberal paper. I know I've mentioned this before, but thought I would do so again to demonstrate how much I was not kidding. Daily dose of fear, anyone? I do enjoy the Jewish World articles, though.
3. I got to see Orthodox Jews dancing to techno music the other day.
4. Turns out, there IS a Minister for Minority Affairs in Israel- Avishay Braverman of the Netanyahu government is the first individual to hold the post since it was abolished after one year of existing in 1949 (the first year after independence). The post was officially reestablished in March of 2009, making it less than 4 months old. What has it done? Not a clue. Can't find anything about it anywhere outside of the fact it exists. Why does this matter? I want to talk to him since the Gypsies, while a minority, are not recognized so by the Israeli government, but simply as 'Arab.' At the same time, when it comes to aid distribution and certain benefits as a minority in the state of Israel, the Gypsy population often does not receive or benefit from them. The chance of me actually getting to do this? Pretty close to zero. But still- the creation of this post is intriguing, although the lack of news coverage suggests its in name only. Braverman himself went to Stanford for economics, worked for the World Bank in DC and served President of Ben-Gurion University for a number of years. He ran for the Knesset in '06, and is now serving in the Netanyahu government (even after calling for the Labor Party, which he is a part of, to not join the government). Anyway, the reason for sharing this is (1) I'm looking for more info (please share!) and (2) I thought it was kinda cool.
5. My summers in the Middle East have officially warped my thinking. As my clothing supply ran drastically low, I had to wear long shorts, that came a little bit above my knees. I was FREAKING out the entire day, completely self conscious about how much skin I was showing.
One Foot in the Door
So I guess I should give a little more follow up on my last post. While I have been working at the center for about three weeks now, I hadn't been officially invited to their homes yet. While Amoun may be the epitomy of Mother Theresa when it comes to welcoming people with open arms, the community at large still remains rather close knit and protective from outsiders. It was mostly the kids- since I live in the Old City as well, (just on the opposite side near Jaffa Gate, while their community is mostly at Lion's Gate), one of the dads drove me back, and then I helped them carry some stuff up a side alleyway to a compound. At that point, I was literally dragged in by the kids. All of one extended family lives in one compound- Grandma, Grandpa, sons, daughters, aunts, uncles, cousins, etc. It is a lot like college suites, Arab-style. Each family has their own 'apartment,' and they all share a small yard. The one I saw was occupied by Amoun's family. First, Heba pushed me into her family's apartment- she shares a bedroom with her brother Yasr, and then there is a kitchen, a parents bedroom, and a small living room. Most of the others are set up in similar fashion- some of the kids have beds, some don't. There was little furniture in the cramped corners, but if there was, it was obviously second-hand. Yet there was such obvious pride in what they did have- something I have noticed at the center, as well. They take such care of everything they have, through preservation and appearance- which is a completely alien concept to me as a self-identified slobovian. This extended-family style of living is typical (Amoun, even though she is a single woman without a family, still lives in this compound, and it would be unacceptable for her to do otherwise)- yet I think I would go crazy if it were me- people just walk in and out of each others rooms and apartments, no privacy, and your family knows EVERYTHING happening in your life. Yet at the same time, they are all so close, and that inescapable familiarity with one another also means they can read a face or sentiment, and clear out when space is needed or respond when a hug is desired. But still, it would drive me crazy.
Anyway, apartment one I got juice, apartment two I got rice and some weird gooey substance, apartment three fruit and coffee. They own two computers (one recent donated one and one from the 1980's), and it was automatically assumed I would know how to fix them. Right.
I felt so welcome- and elated as I was told literally 6 times by one father that I was invited back everyday, anytime. It was my home as much it was theirs'. And this is what elicited the all-caps previous post.
While walking away (and brilliantly twisting my ankle in the process), I realized how important this home was to this family- Gypsies are often assumed wanderers (although the name refers to an ethnic as well as cultural), but this group developed a lifestyle in this city, settling there over 300 years ago. In this little corner of one of the most disputed and fought over territories in the world, this small community was just attempting to scratch out an existence to be able to continue living in the place they called home. They have to fight for their homes- yet not just from the government (some of their homes have been demolished because they are 'illegal') but from the Arab population trying to kick them out. I heard a reporter recently ask Amoun why they dealt with the sky-rocketing rent costs and difficulties of Old City life, when they could easily move elsewhere. This is their home- not because of political, ideological or religious reasons, but simply because it is their home, where they had grown up, run the streets, and learned to live- and they would do everything they could to keep it that way. I'm hoping to find out more on how the territorial struggles of Israelis and Palestinians externally effect this little corner of the Old City- so more to come!
And then, within the next 24 hours, some mole hills turned into mountains in terms of accomplishing the project, mostly to do with stretched time and resources and Amoun reaching her breaking point in what she can take from the community, friends, and society. More on why will be coming in a later post when I talk about some of the Gypsy community stuff, but in an attempt to limit the increasingly exorbitant length of these posts and to preserve your sanity, I'll stop for now- but I'll be getting to Hebron and general research info soon, promise!
2. So every article on the front page of Haaretz online today concerned terorrism, the Holocaust, or nuclear weapons. Every. Single. One-minus the one about a Jewish poet pretending to be Arab (gasp!). And it's the liberal paper. I know I've mentioned this before, but thought I would do so again to demonstrate how much I was not kidding. Daily dose of fear, anyone? I do enjoy the Jewish World articles, though.
3. I got to see Orthodox Jews dancing to techno music the other day.
4. Turns out, there IS a Minister for Minority Affairs in Israel- Avishay Braverman of the Netanyahu government is the first individual to hold the post since it was abolished after one year of existing in 1949 (the first year after independence). The post was officially reestablished in March of 2009, making it less than 4 months old. What has it done? Not a clue. Can't find anything about it anywhere outside of the fact it exists. Why does this matter? I want to talk to him since the Gypsies, while a minority, are not recognized so by the Israeli government, but simply as 'Arab.' At the same time, when it comes to aid distribution and certain benefits as a minority in the state of Israel, the Gypsy population often does not receive or benefit from them. The chance of me actually getting to do this? Pretty close to zero. But still- the creation of this post is intriguing, although the lack of news coverage suggests its in name only. Braverman himself went to Stanford for economics, worked for the World Bank in DC and served President of Ben-Gurion University for a number of years. He ran for the Knesset in '06, and is now serving in the Netanyahu government (even after calling for the Labor Party, which he is a part of, to not join the government). Anyway, the reason for sharing this is (1) I'm looking for more info (please share!) and (2) I thought it was kinda cool.
5. My summers in the Middle East have officially warped my thinking. As my clothing supply ran drastically low, I had to wear long shorts, that came a little bit above my knees. I was FREAKING out the entire day, completely self conscious about how much skin I was showing.
One Foot in the Door
So I guess I should give a little more follow up on my last post. While I have been working at the center for about three weeks now, I hadn't been officially invited to their homes yet. While Amoun may be the epitomy of Mother Theresa when it comes to welcoming people with open arms, the community at large still remains rather close knit and protective from outsiders. It was mostly the kids- since I live in the Old City as well, (just on the opposite side near Jaffa Gate, while their community is mostly at Lion's Gate), one of the dads drove me back, and then I helped them carry some stuff up a side alleyway to a compound. At that point, I was literally dragged in by the kids. All of one extended family lives in one compound- Grandma, Grandpa, sons, daughters, aunts, uncles, cousins, etc. It is a lot like college suites, Arab-style. Each family has their own 'apartment,' and they all share a small yard. The one I saw was occupied by Amoun's family. First, Heba pushed me into her family's apartment- she shares a bedroom with her brother Yasr, and then there is a kitchen, a parents bedroom, and a small living room. Most of the others are set up in similar fashion- some of the kids have beds, some don't. There was little furniture in the cramped corners, but if there was, it was obviously second-hand. Yet there was such obvious pride in what they did have- something I have noticed at the center, as well. They take such care of everything they have, through preservation and appearance- which is a completely alien concept to me as a self-identified slobovian. This extended-family style of living is typical (Amoun, even though she is a single woman without a family, still lives in this compound, and it would be unacceptable for her to do otherwise)- yet I think I would go crazy if it were me- people just walk in and out of each others rooms and apartments, no privacy, and your family knows EVERYTHING happening in your life. Yet at the same time, they are all so close, and that inescapable familiarity with one another also means they can read a face or sentiment, and clear out when space is needed or respond when a hug is desired. But still, it would drive me crazy.
Anyway, apartment one I got juice, apartment two I got rice and some weird gooey substance, apartment three fruit and coffee. They own two computers (one recent donated one and one from the 1980's), and it was automatically assumed I would know how to fix them. Right.
I felt so welcome- and elated as I was told literally 6 times by one father that I was invited back everyday, anytime. It was my home as much it was theirs'. And this is what elicited the all-caps previous post.
While walking away (and brilliantly twisting my ankle in the process), I realized how important this home was to this family- Gypsies are often assumed wanderers (although the name refers to an ethnic as well as cultural), but this group developed a lifestyle in this city, settling there over 300 years ago. In this little corner of one of the most disputed and fought over territories in the world, this small community was just attempting to scratch out an existence to be able to continue living in the place they called home. They have to fight for their homes- yet not just from the government (some of their homes have been demolished because they are 'illegal') but from the Arab population trying to kick them out. I heard a reporter recently ask Amoun why they dealt with the sky-rocketing rent costs and difficulties of Old City life, when they could easily move elsewhere. This is their home- not because of political, ideological or religious reasons, but simply because it is their home, where they had grown up, run the streets, and learned to live- and they would do everything they could to keep it that way. I'm hoping to find out more on how the territorial struggles of Israelis and Palestinians externally effect this little corner of the Old City- so more to come!
And then, within the next 24 hours, some mole hills turned into mountains in terms of accomplishing the project, mostly to do with stretched time and resources and Amoun reaching her breaking point in what she can take from the community, friends, and society. More on why will be coming in a later post when I talk about some of the Gypsy community stuff, but in an attempt to limit the increasingly exorbitant length of these posts and to preserve your sanity, I'll stop for now- but I'll be getting to Hebron and general research info soon, promise!
Saturday, May 23, 2009
AHHHHHHHHH
I GOT INVITED TO THEIR HOME!!!!!!!!!!! IT WAS AMAZING!!!!!!!!! AND THEY TOLD ME I'M WELCOME ANYTIME!!!!!!!!!! I GOT FOOD AND HUGS AND KISSES AND I'M GOING TO MEET THE MAYOR OF JERUSALEM AND TO VISIT THE GYPSY COMMUNITIES IN THE WEST BANK AND IN CONTACT WITH MEMBERS OF THE BOARD!!!!!!!
This is a big deal for me, if you didn't catch that....Before the last two days, I was getting anxious about things falling into place, if I would actually be able to pull this off. But its okay, its going to work. Maybe not exactly the way I saw it--but its going to happen.
Mk that's all for now- Happy Memorial Day!!!!!!
This is a big deal for me, if you didn't catch that....Before the last two days, I was getting anxious about things falling into place, if I would actually be able to pull this off. But its okay, its going to work. Maybe not exactly the way I saw it--but its going to happen.
Mk that's all for now- Happy Memorial Day!!!!!!
Friday, May 22, 2009
Bride and Mistress of Cities
Today I ate lots of ice cream and illegally streamed Grey's Anatomy for emotional release in fiction. My experiences in Hebron, which I will talk about another day (it has something to do with this, was one of those days where you realize that there are so many simply amazing individuals in the world, who are quietly and bravely legitimizing humanity and its potential. I'm reminded of that when the old gentleman on the corner takes it upon himself to look out for the well-being of this silly American girl, or the people who live in adversity everyday but still find beauty in their surroundings, those who go out of their way to walk someone home, or even just the younger men on the bus getting up to provide a seat for the elder gentleman. I love it, I love it so much. Even on days like this. I'm openly naive and well aware of my sheltered lifestyle, but I love people, because for every one person who just sucks (and make me hope evolution will eventually get it right), there are two that just blow you away with how awesome they are. (I tried to put that more eloquently, but failed). Goodness, I just took sappiness to a new level. No worries, I am retreating back to my normal non-emotional, introverted self now.
I realized that I really haven't given a good look at what daily life looks like for me living in Jerusalem. I love the fact that simple, mundane, daily activities are the things I currently relish most. My current home, Citadel Hostel, is this beautiful 500-year old home near Jaffa Gate in the Old City. It is like walking into a medieval miniature castle decorated Arab-style, with the comforting musty smell and stone walls. The men working the desk morning and night know me by name (I'm becoming a fixture here), and there are always the most fascinating individuals to have conversations with. The 16-bed dorm room I sleep in (and have set up a nice little corner home for myself) is a huge room with vaulted ceilings, and I am right next to a window overlooking the walkway, and I am woken up in the morning to church bells. Probably the best thing about calling this home is the roof view overlooking the Old City. Most evenings after work, I come home with either Amoun's leftover food or some pita and fruit, pick up a book, and listen to the Call to Prayer over the city while watching the sun set. So unreal.
Walking to work everyday is one of my favorite things ever- I walk through the Old City to Damascus Gate, which is through the Muslim Quarter. I walk by the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and part of the path of the Via Delarosa, through the bustling Arab shops and market. The smells are to die for- all of the food, spices, and random unknowns (althoug the meat shops with the fully skinned pigs outside of them and the fish leave some to be desired)- the shop keepers recognize me now, so I get friendly good morning hello's. I grab hot pita and an orange for breakfast every morning from the same places, and love knowing exactly the cost and being able to walk up and pay like I know what I am doin. Being able to get fresh fruit and vegetables everyday with such ease and at such little expense is something I know I am going to miss- grocery stores can't even begin to compare. I take the Arab busline out to Shufaat, a middle class Palestinian neighborhood in East Jerusalem. I'm the first one there, so open up and eat my orange, pita and honey, while doing the oh-so-much fun administrative stuff. Batul and Amar arrive around 11 am, and being the hellions that they are, I don't get much accomplished after that- most of my time is spent keeping them from hurting themselves or destroying the center. Apparently, Amoun trusts me to handle them on my own- she doesn't show up until 1ish. We fill the time going to get 'booza' or ice cream, and playing dress up (funny, I'm always the one getting dressed up...)
After Amoun arrives, she cooks a huge meal, and we all sit down and eat. There are often visitors to the center, from Finnish people, Mormons, Gypsy documentarians, photographers, and Amoun's many friends. In the afternoons, I do the English work- the first week, it was impossible for me to get anyone to just practice English with me outside of the required school work- which is critical for them to actually get the language. This past week, I came up a with an awards system for successful daily English lessons- if they sit down with me and complete my assigned lessons, they get a sticker and a shekel a day, to which in the end they can spend on something they want (Leila clothes, Heba books, Batul sunglasses, Amar hair clips, Yasr watches, etc.) For a little while I was a little unsure of wether I wanted to award them with money for something of this nature, but then I realized that everything these kids get is second-hand or not at all- and I make it rigorous enough that if they take the time during their summer to sit down with me, they deserve it. Now i just have to find the shekels. I've found that vowels are the biggest issue, so Dr. Seuss and 'Hop Pop' and 'Cat in the Hat' have become my best friends. I'm going to be able to recite those books by the end of this.
After cleaning and my lessons in domestication (I'm chastised constantly for my pathetic cleaning skills), my day at the center is done, and I head back for my sunset meal or a little tourist action around the city. And that is the routine I've settled into- and I love it. I'm excited to actually get to the interviewing part- and while Amoun and friends of the center hopefully won't be a problem, because of the very closed nature of the community, I'm obviously not going to be able to talk to as many Gypsies that I would like to outside of those I have met and talk to regularly-but I'm going to remain optimistic.
So I know this was a slightly dull post, but it's what I do! I'm learning so much here- I've started putting some of the actual research analysis together, and I'll eventually share the less-boring parts with ya'll. 'Til then, I've made friends with a gentleman here, Ismael, who writes poetry and studies English and literature, and has a love obsession with Jerusalem. He is wonderful, and is loaning me books on Palestinian Arabic and has offered to meet with me weekly to help (for free!) He's also helping me translate my documents. Here is his poem, Bride and Mistress of Cities...Jerusalem. If anything, it gives an idea of how this city inflames the passions of many because of the significance it holds for many who have always called it home, and those who just now do so. One thing to remember, this was originally written in Arabic- so the translation can't fully do it justice.
Between hills it is vainglorious and by heaven amazement and coquette bride...
Adornment with the stars of heaven.
Blessed by the highest god and ennobled by the prophets.
By her name the birds responding in the morning
And in the evening the doves cooing over its walls
And dozing and the kids dozing between its bosom
My spirit united with your spirit
As the light united wit light...no darkness
As the water united with water...no thirts
Death cannot separate us
Nor anyone can kill our love
Bride once more...more fondling and coquettish
Jerusalem city of lights.
By my spirit I soar to you
My feet rushing to your doors everyday
Flying high...far...far...with the breeze
Takes me the smell of incense and perfumes
In the markets...in the yards...and every courtyard.
I ascend the balconies which waves to me by the falgs
Of peace...flags of love and rejoice
And promise happiness.
As the spirit carries the seeds of love to you and planted
I carry my spirit and plant its growth and blooms
When seen by eyes
With sunrise I kiss every piece of your land
And with evenings full moon I whiser my passionate love.
By your love I am king and you are my queen
And the queen of hearts everywhere...Jerusalem
Full of promise I will stay on your love Jerusalem
Your love is everlasting
When everything is gone everything extinct
Gay bright mroe and more coquettish
Bride and Mistress of cities
City of prophets...city of soaring...city of lights.
I realized that I really haven't given a good look at what daily life looks like for me living in Jerusalem. I love the fact that simple, mundane, daily activities are the things I currently relish most. My current home, Citadel Hostel, is this beautiful 500-year old home near Jaffa Gate in the Old City. It is like walking into a medieval miniature castle decorated Arab-style, with the comforting musty smell and stone walls. The men working the desk morning and night know me by name (I'm becoming a fixture here), and there are always the most fascinating individuals to have conversations with. The 16-bed dorm room I sleep in (and have set up a nice little corner home for myself) is a huge room with vaulted ceilings, and I am right next to a window overlooking the walkway, and I am woken up in the morning to church bells. Probably the best thing about calling this home is the roof view overlooking the Old City. Most evenings after work, I come home with either Amoun's leftover food or some pita and fruit, pick up a book, and listen to the Call to Prayer over the city while watching the sun set. So unreal.
Walking to work everyday is one of my favorite things ever- I walk through the Old City to Damascus Gate, which is through the Muslim Quarter. I walk by the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and part of the path of the Via Delarosa, through the bustling Arab shops and market. The smells are to die for- all of the food, spices, and random unknowns (althoug the meat shops with the fully skinned pigs outside of them and the fish leave some to be desired)- the shop keepers recognize me now, so I get friendly good morning hello's. I grab hot pita and an orange for breakfast every morning from the same places, and love knowing exactly the cost and being able to walk up and pay like I know what I am doin. Being able to get fresh fruit and vegetables everyday with such ease and at such little expense is something I know I am going to miss- grocery stores can't even begin to compare. I take the Arab busline out to Shufaat, a middle class Palestinian neighborhood in East Jerusalem. I'm the first one there, so open up and eat my orange, pita and honey, while doing the oh-so-much fun administrative stuff. Batul and Amar arrive around 11 am, and being the hellions that they are, I don't get much accomplished after that- most of my time is spent keeping them from hurting themselves or destroying the center. Apparently, Amoun trusts me to handle them on my own- she doesn't show up until 1ish. We fill the time going to get 'booza' or ice cream, and playing dress up (funny, I'm always the one getting dressed up...)
After Amoun arrives, she cooks a huge meal, and we all sit down and eat. There are often visitors to the center, from Finnish people, Mormons, Gypsy documentarians, photographers, and Amoun's many friends. In the afternoons, I do the English work- the first week, it was impossible for me to get anyone to just practice English with me outside of the required school work- which is critical for them to actually get the language. This past week, I came up a with an awards system for successful daily English lessons- if they sit down with me and complete my assigned lessons, they get a sticker and a shekel a day, to which in the end they can spend on something they want (Leila clothes, Heba books, Batul sunglasses, Amar hair clips, Yasr watches, etc.) For a little while I was a little unsure of wether I wanted to award them with money for something of this nature, but then I realized that everything these kids get is second-hand or not at all- and I make it rigorous enough that if they take the time during their summer to sit down with me, they deserve it. Now i just have to find the shekels. I've found that vowels are the biggest issue, so Dr. Seuss and 'Hop Pop' and 'Cat in the Hat' have become my best friends. I'm going to be able to recite those books by the end of this.
After cleaning and my lessons in domestication (I'm chastised constantly for my pathetic cleaning skills), my day at the center is done, and I head back for my sunset meal or a little tourist action around the city. And that is the routine I've settled into- and I love it. I'm excited to actually get to the interviewing part- and while Amoun and friends of the center hopefully won't be a problem, because of the very closed nature of the community, I'm obviously not going to be able to talk to as many Gypsies that I would like to outside of those I have met and talk to regularly-but I'm going to remain optimistic.
So I know this was a slightly dull post, but it's what I do! I'm learning so much here- I've started putting some of the actual research analysis together, and I'll eventually share the less-boring parts with ya'll. 'Til then, I've made friends with a gentleman here, Ismael, who writes poetry and studies English and literature, and has a love obsession with Jerusalem. He is wonderful, and is loaning me books on Palestinian Arabic and has offered to meet with me weekly to help (for free!) He's also helping me translate my documents. Here is his poem, Bride and Mistress of Cities...Jerusalem. If anything, it gives an idea of how this city inflames the passions of many because of the significance it holds for many who have always called it home, and those who just now do so. One thing to remember, this was originally written in Arabic- so the translation can't fully do it justice.
Between hills it is vainglorious and by heaven amazement and coquette bride...
Adornment with the stars of heaven.
Blessed by the highest god and ennobled by the prophets.
By her name the birds responding in the morning
And in the evening the doves cooing over its walls
And dozing and the kids dozing between its bosom
My spirit united with your spirit
As the light united wit light...no darkness
As the water united with water...no thirts
Death cannot separate us
Nor anyone can kill our love
Bride once more...more fondling and coquettish
Jerusalem city of lights.
By my spirit I soar to you
My feet rushing to your doors everyday
Flying high...far...far...with the breeze
Takes me the smell of incense and perfumes
In the markets...in the yards...and every courtyard.
I ascend the balconies which waves to me by the falgs
Of peace...flags of love and rejoice
And promise happiness.
As the spirit carries the seeds of love to you and planted
I carry my spirit and plant its growth and blooms
When seen by eyes
With sunrise I kiss every piece of your land
And with evenings full moon I whiser my passionate love.
By your love I am king and you are my queen
And the queen of hearts everywhere...Jerusalem
Full of promise I will stay on your love Jerusalem
Your love is everlasting
When everything is gone everything extinct
Gay bright mroe and more coquettish
Bride and Mistress of cities
City of prophets...city of soaring...city of lights.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
“A culture is made -- or destroyed -- by its articulate voices.”
Yes, the title is a quote by Ayn Rand. No judging.
I had an epic conversation this evening overlooking the Old City (my normal position to watch the sun set) with an Israeli named Ben. Ben was chilling in my hostel for a week or so, and saw I was reading a book on the Israeli Polity and Community Space (for my research), and casually, in a very nonchalant way, mentioned if I wanted a native viewpoint, he would love to have a convo. Jumped all over that.
Ben is an Ashkenazi Jew, or of Eastern European origin. His father came to Israel in '49 from Germany, and left in '68 to settle in Los Angeles. His two older brothers were born in Germany, himself in Israel, and two sisters in America. He actually was educated in Los Angeles for university studies. Talk about a diaspora family. He is the only individual in his immediate family still in Israel, with an occupation in helping struggling businesses to improve their business methods through establishing their global network on the internet (he said it in a much more sophisticated manner, but that's my lamist terms).
He was just chilling in the hostel, where he knows the Palestinian owner- he helps out around the place while getting a free stay. Apparently this is normal for him- his uncle owns a hostel in Tel Aviv, which used to be the headquarters of Shin Bet (the internal security service). Anyway, he was a self-declared liberal Zionist, and while raised extremely religious, is relatively secular now. His pride for his country equaled my love for America (aka a lot). His two mandatory years in the army were with the Magav, or Border Police in Hebron and Jerusalem- which he described to me as being one of the most hated groups of Israeli security forces. He stayed on, and serves with the Magav for one month out of every year. It's not something he enjoys- even mentioning how the movie Waltz for Bashir was a reminder for him how much he suppresses his military experiences. But at the same time, as a Zionist, he sees it as an obligation and a part of being Israeli.
Our conversation ranged from the South in the US (for some reason people are interested in that here? Or maybe I think so since I'm so in love with it...woohoo he knew James Taylor and Carolina on my Mind!!!) to kunafa (he's a huge fan) to the study of language (and his wicked friend who knows 11 languages). Since my majors are big flashing red lights to what I am interested in, we also delved into security and cultural intersections. He expressed a lot of frustration at the fact most people never got to know the culture that he loves to much- as a country that in statehood terms was founded on immigrant populations from Africa, the Americas, and Europe, and existing local culture, the rich diaspora of food, culture, and traditions had formed a unique Israeli identity expressed through arts and Israeli daily life. He talked about the Tel Aviv music scene, such as the great reggae scene that's developed there with the Ethiopian population influence. But no one gets to see it outside of Israel- even his father, who spend around a decade here, saw his former home in the context of the Israeli-Arab conflict only.
My convo with Ben was huge for me- living in the Old City, riding the Arab busline, working in the Shufaat neighborhood of East Jerusalem, my exposure to the everyday Israeli has been limited--and I think a huge demonstration of how successful self-imposed division has been in this city, from efforts on both sides. Surprise, he knew nothing about the Gypsies, but was genuinely interested, and when I finished my now well rehearsed description of disenfranchisement and discrimination, he was like, 'yeah, that happens a lot here.' Not to over analyze, but I also picked up on how very different Tel Aviv is from Jerusalem, not even having been there. He talked about how his abrasive and open habits weren't acceptable here, and how to most in Tel Aviv, the decisive and overly-tension ridden atmosphere of Jersualem was worlds away (even the politicians choose to reside in Tel Aviv, even though Jerusalem is the capital). This was particularly interesting- I have heard people express anger at the fact this conflict doesn't phase the everyday Israeli as much as it should, particularly in the tactics used in the West Bank and Gaza, and the other idea saying the rest of the world is getting it wrong by only seeing Israel in terms of the conflict (for example, people still eat at McDonald's, even though we invaded two countries in the last 8 years....cough, cough). Someone could write a book about this (probably has), but Stephen Walk went ahead and had some good commentary on it.... I found this right afterwards in my daily google-readering, on efforts to 'rebrand' Israel through emphasizing its' dynamic culture, location, and identity. Overall: it isn't going to work. It's an interesting read, highly suggest.
So that was mostly a random throw together of a new perspective I gained tonight, and thought I would share- because this city is all about the perspective. In some cases, that's what it is mostly about. Actually, yeah, that's all its about.
On another note, the other girl interning with CFK this summer (where I will be at the end of June, in Kenya) is about to start!! Here is her blog, if you are interested: http://loizias.blogspot.com/
I had an epic conversation this evening overlooking the Old City (my normal position to watch the sun set) with an Israeli named Ben. Ben was chilling in my hostel for a week or so, and saw I was reading a book on the Israeli Polity and Community Space (for my research), and casually, in a very nonchalant way, mentioned if I wanted a native viewpoint, he would love to have a convo. Jumped all over that.
Ben is an Ashkenazi Jew, or of Eastern European origin. His father came to Israel in '49 from Germany, and left in '68 to settle in Los Angeles. His two older brothers were born in Germany, himself in Israel, and two sisters in America. He actually was educated in Los Angeles for university studies. Talk about a diaspora family. He is the only individual in his immediate family still in Israel, with an occupation in helping struggling businesses to improve their business methods through establishing their global network on the internet (he said it in a much more sophisticated manner, but that's my lamist terms).
He was just chilling in the hostel, where he knows the Palestinian owner- he helps out around the place while getting a free stay. Apparently this is normal for him- his uncle owns a hostel in Tel Aviv, which used to be the headquarters of Shin Bet (the internal security service). Anyway, he was a self-declared liberal Zionist, and while raised extremely religious, is relatively secular now. His pride for his country equaled my love for America (aka a lot). His two mandatory years in the army were with the Magav, or Border Police in Hebron and Jerusalem- which he described to me as being one of the most hated groups of Israeli security forces. He stayed on, and serves with the Magav for one month out of every year. It's not something he enjoys- even mentioning how the movie Waltz for Bashir was a reminder for him how much he suppresses his military experiences. But at the same time, as a Zionist, he sees it as an obligation and a part of being Israeli.
Our conversation ranged from the South in the US (for some reason people are interested in that here? Or maybe I think so since I'm so in love with it...woohoo he knew James Taylor and Carolina on my Mind!!!) to kunafa (he's a huge fan) to the study of language (and his wicked friend who knows 11 languages). Since my majors are big flashing red lights to what I am interested in, we also delved into security and cultural intersections. He expressed a lot of frustration at the fact most people never got to know the culture that he loves to much- as a country that in statehood terms was founded on immigrant populations from Africa, the Americas, and Europe, and existing local culture, the rich diaspora of food, culture, and traditions had formed a unique Israeli identity expressed through arts and Israeli daily life. He talked about the Tel Aviv music scene, such as the great reggae scene that's developed there with the Ethiopian population influence. But no one gets to see it outside of Israel- even his father, who spend around a decade here, saw his former home in the context of the Israeli-Arab conflict only.
My convo with Ben was huge for me- living in the Old City, riding the Arab busline, working in the Shufaat neighborhood of East Jerusalem, my exposure to the everyday Israeli has been limited--and I think a huge demonstration of how successful self-imposed division has been in this city, from efforts on both sides. Surprise, he knew nothing about the Gypsies, but was genuinely interested, and when I finished my now well rehearsed description of disenfranchisement and discrimination, he was like, 'yeah, that happens a lot here.' Not to over analyze, but I also picked up on how very different Tel Aviv is from Jerusalem, not even having been there. He talked about how his abrasive and open habits weren't acceptable here, and how to most in Tel Aviv, the decisive and overly-tension ridden atmosphere of Jersualem was worlds away (even the politicians choose to reside in Tel Aviv, even though Jerusalem is the capital). This was particularly interesting- I have heard people express anger at the fact this conflict doesn't phase the everyday Israeli as much as it should, particularly in the tactics used in the West Bank and Gaza, and the other idea saying the rest of the world is getting it wrong by only seeing Israel in terms of the conflict (for example, people still eat at McDonald's, even though we invaded two countries in the last 8 years....cough, cough). Someone could write a book about this (probably has), but Stephen Walk went ahead and had some good commentary on it.... I found this right afterwards in my daily google-readering, on efforts to 'rebrand' Israel through emphasizing its' dynamic culture, location, and identity. Overall: it isn't going to work. It's an interesting read, highly suggest.
So that was mostly a random throw together of a new perspective I gained tonight, and thought I would share- because this city is all about the perspective. In some cases, that's what it is mostly about. Actually, yeah, that's all its about.
On another note, the other girl interning with CFK this summer (where I will be at the end of June, in Kenya) is about to start!! Here is her blog, if you are interested: http://loizias.blogspot.com/
Sunday, May 17, 2009
What A Life
A few generals:
1. Netanyahu, Prime Minister of Israel, is in the United States, and tomorrow meets with Obama. The last time this dude was in power and had a convo with a US president in the 90's, Clinton walked away from the meeting with him saying, ""Who the f*** does he think he is? Who's the f***ing superpower here?" Is it bad I'm hoping for an entertaining week in US-Israeli relations? The NYT has kicked it off right with Goldberg's op-ed on Netanyahu, which has infuriated some by not allowing comments....
2. I was solicited last night by a 16-year-old kid walking around the Old City. I was trying to recapture the quiet, serene, incomparable beauty of the place that struck me the first night when I arrived to my hostel in the wee hours of the morning. I was a few hours too early for that stage of the Old City's life, but got to see a side of the city when the tourists have all left and the locals are teeming throughout the alley ways. Which was as equally delightful, until kid on bicycle skidded up beside me and offered 100 shekels for 1 hour of well, the obvious in extremely profane language. If you know me, then you know my reaction--I hope he ran home crying. Thanks for ruining my night, kid.
3. I didn't do much sight-seeing, since I'm at the center the majority of the day, and the Pope's throngs of followers made getting around a nightmare. Promise I'll have that kind of stuff to talk about soon.
4. My song of the week. Just makes you wanna dance. Who doesn't like dancing?
5. I had McDonald's. Majorly shameful, but I was starving, and nothing else was open yet because of Shabbat. This whole religious holiday stuff shutting everything down is just too much for my instant-gratification and impatient tendencies. I mean, it's not even this bad in the South on Sunday.
6. Today, I had to carry home a giant, transparent trashbag of tampons on an Arab busline, and throug the Arab quarter of the Old City, struggling to carry it the entire way. They had been donated to the center, but most of the Doms' refuse to use them for religious reasons. Amoun hates to waste anything, so guess who was forced to take over 10 years worth of tampons home today? Oh, the looks I got.
7. I do hope I don't hear another Israeli compare the situation of the Palestinians to those of the African Americans in the United States. Sorry, not a justification or commonality you can win me over on, stop trying.
The Important Stuff:
Since there is SO much to talk about when it comes to the Doms, I've decided to break the factual stuff about the community down throughout the posts, so people aren't overwhelmed or get bored. It'll be weaved in and out of the comments of my experiences, as it becomes pertinent.
This week, as the first one, has been mostly been about becoming familiar and grasping the details of daily life in the center. I'm the first person in the morning- and the only person ever on time for anything, in typical Arabic time management. To solve this problem since I still haven't figured out when I should be late and when I shouldn't , Amoun has given me a set of keys to the center. The mornings are filled with the administrative stuff, as Amoun and I chat about things, answer emails, doing some cleaning stuff, and work on the two major projects that I discussed with her that are for the benefit of the center: increasing market access by making Gypsy products available online, and then branching fundraising resources outside of Europe and Israel. I made these the two main targets after realizing that her dependency on certain organizations has led to some limitations on her activities and resources, and that they simply have some great stuff, which you can only have access to when visiting this obscure basement community center in East Jerusalem (cutting out a good part of the Israeli population who don't wanna cross the East/West line), and the occasional bazaar. While I walked in wanting to really be gun-hoe about my project, I realized that Amoun's system of working, and in essence form of survival in this society, is that there has to be a tangible benefit for the center: otherwise, her time and resources as a single woman running a center for an entire community are too precious to be splurged.
I learned that one quickly with the visit of some Finnish Christian Gypsies. After two days of having to feed and entertain them, she was extremely frustrated not knowing if the center was going to get anything out of it, particularly since her relationships with other religious communities has been somewhat of a roller-coaster. They have been some of her best donors (shout out to the Mormons-met a few, AWESOME people), but also those with the greatest ulterior motives--for example, one visiting group (friends of the Finnish visiting this time) who wanted to help by donating hundreds of Bibles. To a Muslim community. Forget the fact they can barely pay the rent. Her great frustration comes from the fact their interest does not lie in their ties as fellow Gypsies, but as an opportunity to proselytize. Amoun herself is the most religious yet accepting person I have met in this city- her friends visiting the center I have met come from many, many backgrounds, Jewish, Arab-Christian, a South African born-again Christian, Messianic Jew, Muslim, etc. This fall into traditional treatment of religion among the Gypsies: while they often adopt the religion of the region (why the Finnish Gypsies are Christian and the Doms are Muslim, having really settled in the Ottoman period), religion is very private and personal, and differences in how one sees God is not something that should be debated, but respected. Amoun has frequently, in her moments of telling it like it is, expressed her sheer exasperation at people's inability to see that her organization is based around seeing tangible developments and improvements in her community's culture, societal standing, and education- and while she truly believes that God has a huge role in it, Bibles ain't gonna make it happen. At the end of the day, she pulled out her regular saying of 'What a life' as she sighs. Therefore, I want to make sure that what I am doing is going to be a tangible benefit of this center, and not a waste of her time.
On another note, I've heard and seen marginally forms of discrimination and racism here, but I saw some of the psychological effects it has when working my first day with the 7th grade girls. They couldn't focus on the lesson, continually saying 'Antee jamiila' (You are pretty) and rubbing my skin, which was blindingly white up until a week ago. All hell broke loose when I wore a skirt and they saw my even whiter legs. In broken English and Arabic, they kept saying how their skin was so ugly, and how in Israel they were nothing without white skin. Heart breaking. They also have extremely dark hair, which they would point to in disgust. I know this is common elsewhere to0, but for these girls to call themselves ugly and truly believe it, simply because their society told them so through its policy, ethnic background preference, and privilege, was mind-blowing. It was compounded further for these girls being Gypsies- not only was the non-European look working against them, they have no hope within the Palestinian society, either- deemed nawar, or dirty Gypsies in Arabic, they are considered not marriageable, thieves, and beggars. Amoun remains single, and considering there are only three major families (pointing out these 'families' can consist of up to 1,00 people) remaining in the Old City, she refuses to marry within the community because of the limited options and potential for too much gene-crossing.
I have much more to say, but I will save it for another post. To tie up this one, we went to an ex-pat bazaar yesterday to sell the craftwork, and consisted of many Foreign Service officers from various countries. Since this is a career-path I am heavily considering, I saw a snapshot of my future: and was amused to see the American FSOs in their jeans and t-shirts contrasted with the wives of the European diplomats, in their expensive jewelry, high-heels, big sunglasses, and well-done tans. I think I'll fit in just fine.
1. Netanyahu, Prime Minister of Israel, is in the United States, and tomorrow meets with Obama. The last time this dude was in power and had a convo with a US president in the 90's, Clinton walked away from the meeting with him saying, ""Who the f*** does he think he is? Who's the f***ing superpower here?" Is it bad I'm hoping for an entertaining week in US-Israeli relations? The NYT has kicked it off right with Goldberg's op-ed on Netanyahu, which has infuriated some by not allowing comments....
2. I was solicited last night by a 16-year-old kid walking around the Old City. I was trying to recapture the quiet, serene, incomparable beauty of the place that struck me the first night when I arrived to my hostel in the wee hours of the morning. I was a few hours too early for that stage of the Old City's life, but got to see a side of the city when the tourists have all left and the locals are teeming throughout the alley ways. Which was as equally delightful, until kid on bicycle skidded up beside me and offered 100 shekels for 1 hour of well, the obvious in extremely profane language. If you know me, then you know my reaction--I hope he ran home crying. Thanks for ruining my night, kid.
3. I didn't do much sight-seeing, since I'm at the center the majority of the day, and the Pope's throngs of followers made getting around a nightmare. Promise I'll have that kind of stuff to talk about soon.
4. My song of the week. Just makes you wanna dance. Who doesn't like dancing?
5. I had McDonald's. Majorly shameful, but I was starving, and nothing else was open yet because of Shabbat. This whole religious holiday stuff shutting everything down is just too much for my instant-gratification and impatient tendencies. I mean, it's not even this bad in the South on Sunday.
6. Today, I had to carry home a giant, transparent trashbag of tampons on an Arab busline, and throug the Arab quarter of the Old City, struggling to carry it the entire way. They had been donated to the center, but most of the Doms' refuse to use them for religious reasons. Amoun hates to waste anything, so guess who was forced to take over 10 years worth of tampons home today? Oh, the looks I got.
7. I do hope I don't hear another Israeli compare the situation of the Palestinians to those of the African Americans in the United States. Sorry, not a justification or commonality you can win me over on, stop trying.
The Important Stuff:
Since there is SO much to talk about when it comes to the Doms, I've decided to break the factual stuff about the community down throughout the posts, so people aren't overwhelmed or get bored. It'll be weaved in and out of the comments of my experiences, as it becomes pertinent.
This week, as the first one, has been mostly been about becoming familiar and grasping the details of daily life in the center. I'm the first person in the morning- and the only person ever on time for anything, in typical Arabic time management. To solve this problem since I still haven't figured out when I should be late and when I shouldn't , Amoun has given me a set of keys to the center. The mornings are filled with the administrative stuff, as Amoun and I chat about things, answer emails, doing some cleaning stuff, and work on the two major projects that I discussed with her that are for the benefit of the center: increasing market access by making Gypsy products available online, and then branching fundraising resources outside of Europe and Israel. I made these the two main targets after realizing that her dependency on certain organizations has led to some limitations on her activities and resources, and that they simply have some great stuff, which you can only have access to when visiting this obscure basement community center in East Jerusalem (cutting out a good part of the Israeli population who don't wanna cross the East/West line), and the occasional bazaar. While I walked in wanting to really be gun-hoe about my project, I realized that Amoun's system of working, and in essence form of survival in this society, is that there has to be a tangible benefit for the center: otherwise, her time and resources as a single woman running a center for an entire community are too precious to be splurged.
I learned that one quickly with the visit of some Finnish Christian Gypsies. After two days of having to feed and entertain them, she was extremely frustrated not knowing if the center was going to get anything out of it, particularly since her relationships with other religious communities has been somewhat of a roller-coaster. They have been some of her best donors (shout out to the Mormons-met a few, AWESOME people), but also those with the greatest ulterior motives--for example, one visiting group (friends of the Finnish visiting this time) who wanted to help by donating hundreds of Bibles. To a Muslim community. Forget the fact they can barely pay the rent. Her great frustration comes from the fact their interest does not lie in their ties as fellow Gypsies, but as an opportunity to proselytize. Amoun herself is the most religious yet accepting person I have met in this city- her friends visiting the center I have met come from many, many backgrounds, Jewish, Arab-Christian, a South African born-again Christian, Messianic Jew, Muslim, etc. This fall into traditional treatment of religion among the Gypsies: while they often adopt the religion of the region (why the Finnish Gypsies are Christian and the Doms are Muslim, having really settled in the Ottoman period), religion is very private and personal, and differences in how one sees God is not something that should be debated, but respected. Amoun has frequently, in her moments of telling it like it is, expressed her sheer exasperation at people's inability to see that her organization is based around seeing tangible developments and improvements in her community's culture, societal standing, and education- and while she truly believes that God has a huge role in it, Bibles ain't gonna make it happen. At the end of the day, she pulled out her regular saying of 'What a life' as she sighs. Therefore, I want to make sure that what I am doing is going to be a tangible benefit of this center, and not a waste of her time.
On another note, I've heard and seen marginally forms of discrimination and racism here, but I saw some of the psychological effects it has when working my first day with the 7th grade girls. They couldn't focus on the lesson, continually saying 'Antee jamiila' (You are pretty) and rubbing my skin, which was blindingly white up until a week ago. All hell broke loose when I wore a skirt and they saw my even whiter legs. In broken English and Arabic, they kept saying how their skin was so ugly, and how in Israel they were nothing without white skin. Heart breaking. They also have extremely dark hair, which they would point to in disgust. I know this is common elsewhere to0, but for these girls to call themselves ugly and truly believe it, simply because their society told them so through its policy, ethnic background preference, and privilege, was mind-blowing. It was compounded further for these girls being Gypsies- not only was the non-European look working against them, they have no hope within the Palestinian society, either- deemed nawar, or dirty Gypsies in Arabic, they are considered not marriageable, thieves, and beggars. Amoun remains single, and considering there are only three major families (pointing out these 'families' can consist of up to 1,00 people) remaining in the Old City, she refuses to marry within the community because of the limited options and potential for too much gene-crossing.
I have much more to say, but I will save it for another post. To tie up this one, we went to an ex-pat bazaar yesterday to sell the craftwork, and consisted of many Foreign Service officers from various countries. Since this is a career-path I am heavily considering, I saw a snapshot of my future: and was amused to see the American FSOs in their jeans and t-shirts contrasted with the wives of the European diplomats, in their expensive jewelry, high-heels, big sunglasses, and well-done tans. I think I'll fit in just fine.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Shai NaNa Overdose
Sup Pope.
I have not met one Jerusalemite who is happy the Pope is here. Even the Christians are pissed off about the flood of European tourists in yellow papal hats wearing their yellow scarves and pulling out shekels from their logoed fanny packs. In the great tradition of top-notch Israeli security, getting around the city is practically impossible, since they have shut down multiple major roads and walkways. Surprise, there is religious uproar about the former Hitler Youth Catholic Pope in a Jewish state, particularly after his speech at the Holocaust museum was heavily criticized for not apologizing from a Christian and German standpoint. (and on a random observation, two of the major articles in Haaretz today were about the Holocaust-(Facebook made this category by refusing to kick off their website Holocaust deniers), 4 about the Pope, 3 about the conflict, and around a bizillion on Iran and their desire to destroy Israel.) I'd be scared out of my wits on a constant basis if I were Israeli, too. I already feel a mindset developing of complete paranoia about everything, which I'm sure is not helped by the really big guns they carry here. Really, really big. It's a slightly odd sentiment, because at the same time I feel greater personal security walking around here than I did Egypt, in terms of being out at night, pick pockets, and traveling around the city alone as a female. Yet, the greater, general paranoia I feel here, exacerbated by the news and tension in the Old City that can be cut with a knife, was not something I felt in Egypt. I've only been here a few days, but through the news, other reading, and being in the epicenter of the Old City, I am starting to understand the dual-sense of security that defines Israel. Its' constant presence visualized with the soldiers on every street corner portrays safety here, but at the same time you feel a threat, whatever it is (or if anything at all), just lingering, waiting, looming. It's a little maddening.
I've had three whole days at the Domari Society of Gypsies Community Center, my reason for residing in the country for two months. Just a little background, I received a Burch Fellowship based on a self-designed proposal to work with the Domari (Middle Eastern gypsy) community of Jerusalem, collecting oral histories based around their placement in Israeli society while volunteering at the community center, teaching English. I developed this project over the last year, after I came across a story about Amoun Sleem, the woman who founded the community center to improve the quality of life of this small community. Like many other gypsy communities, the Jerusalem one has faced severe econoimc, social, and cultural discrimination and limited opportunities, worsened by the average educational drop out age of 12. (I'll providea separate post on the detailed history, culture, and current situation of the community later on, but a brief introduction is helpful) Amoun, who is a rarity in a community where women are stictly homemakers, established this center after leaving her job, to advance and promote the education of the younger generation, while providing outlets of empowerment for the older generations by promoting tradecraft and economic independence. There are around 1,000 or so in Jerusalem, mostly in the Old City, and with family offshoots in the West Bank. There is a larger community in the Gaza Strip, with between 2,000-3,000. My overall goal was to look at this little known and unique community within one of the most diverse yet politically and culturally divided cities in the world. The Doms are peace-loving and have remained relatively outside of the conflict, but are still heavily affected by it. Further, they are the low of the low of Israeli society- the Israelis don't differentiate them from the Arab population (they have adopted Arabic as their language and Islam as their religion, coming to this part of the world during Saladin), and the Arab population sees them as inferior, even spitting on them in the street. Slightly ironic, yes?
As I interact and learn more about the community, my project goals are continually shifting- but the general idea of oral histories and examining their interactions within Israeli society remains the overall theme. My first few have been everything I could have asked for. When Amoun picked me up the first time, she said, 'welcome home.' I've gotten home-cooked Arabic and Gypsy food everyday, and the children are so much fun, even if insistent on driving me crazy by not doing their English homework. Amoun, well, she deserves a separate post on another day. She is one of the most interesting people, made even more colorful by her unending opinions on everything. She's a perfectionist, socialite, humanitarian, philosopher, makeshift mother, community leader, artist, and so much more all in one. Working with her for the next two months will be enlightening and quite the experience.
So far, Amoun has made it clear that as much as she wants me to help with teaching the kids English, she's going to put me to work with everything else, as well. I've been charged with organizing the products for an upcoming bazaar with the diplomatic ex-pats, cleaning and re-organizing the jewelry they have made, finding and developing contacts for fundraising in the United States, and other random projects she mentions flippantly throughout the day. I've got no problem doing it though, because her cooking is AMAZING. She is also going to let me tag along in meeting the mayor of Jerusalem, Nir Barkat, about advancing Gypsy rights. So cool. She is slowly introducing me to everything gyspy, which hopefully within 4 weeks I can start having tangible results for the project. That is, if I don't die from a shai nana (Mint tea) overdose- I've had around 6 cups of tea everyday. I can't help it- Amoun makes pot after pot after pot, and the shopkeeper on the corner offers tea everytime I walk by his shop (two times a day)- and you just don't refuse it when its offered in this culture. Sigh, I guess I just have to keep drinking this utterly delicious tea.
This post is insanely long, and even though I could go on for hours, I'll spare you. Next post- the kids, more details on the Domaris, and some commentary on the racism that has blown me away.
I have not met one Jerusalemite who is happy the Pope is here. Even the Christians are pissed off about the flood of European tourists in yellow papal hats wearing their yellow scarves and pulling out shekels from their logoed fanny packs. In the great tradition of top-notch Israeli security, getting around the city is practically impossible, since they have shut down multiple major roads and walkways. Surprise, there is religious uproar about the former Hitler Youth Catholic Pope in a Jewish state, particularly after his speech at the Holocaust museum was heavily criticized for not apologizing from a Christian and German standpoint. (and on a random observation, two of the major articles in Haaretz today were about the Holocaust-(Facebook made this category by refusing to kick off their website Holocaust deniers), 4 about the Pope, 3 about the conflict, and around a bizillion on Iran and their desire to destroy Israel.) I'd be scared out of my wits on a constant basis if I were Israeli, too. I already feel a mindset developing of complete paranoia about everything, which I'm sure is not helped by the really big guns they carry here. Really, really big. It's a slightly odd sentiment, because at the same time I feel greater personal security walking around here than I did Egypt, in terms of being out at night, pick pockets, and traveling around the city alone as a female. Yet, the greater, general paranoia I feel here, exacerbated by the news and tension in the Old City that can be cut with a knife, was not something I felt in Egypt. I've only been here a few days, but through the news, other reading, and being in the epicenter of the Old City, I am starting to understand the dual-sense of security that defines Israel. Its' constant presence visualized with the soldiers on every street corner portrays safety here, but at the same time you feel a threat, whatever it is (or if anything at all), just lingering, waiting, looming. It's a little maddening.
I've had three whole days at the Domari Society of Gypsies Community Center, my reason for residing in the country for two months. Just a little background, I received a Burch Fellowship based on a self-designed proposal to work with the Domari (Middle Eastern gypsy) community of Jerusalem, collecting oral histories based around their placement in Israeli society while volunteering at the community center, teaching English. I developed this project over the last year, after I came across a story about Amoun Sleem, the woman who founded the community center to improve the quality of life of this small community. Like many other gypsy communities, the Jerusalem one has faced severe econoimc, social, and cultural discrimination and limited opportunities, worsened by the average educational drop out age of 12. (I'll providea separate post on the detailed history, culture, and current situation of the community later on, but a brief introduction is helpful) Amoun, who is a rarity in a community where women are stictly homemakers, established this center after leaving her job, to advance and promote the education of the younger generation, while providing outlets of empowerment for the older generations by promoting tradecraft and economic independence. There are around 1,000 or so in Jerusalem, mostly in the Old City, and with family offshoots in the West Bank. There is a larger community in the Gaza Strip, with between 2,000-3,000. My overall goal was to look at this little known and unique community within one of the most diverse yet politically and culturally divided cities in the world. The Doms are peace-loving and have remained relatively outside of the conflict, but are still heavily affected by it. Further, they are the low of the low of Israeli society- the Israelis don't differentiate them from the Arab population (they have adopted Arabic as their language and Islam as their religion, coming to this part of the world during Saladin), and the Arab population sees them as inferior, even spitting on them in the street. Slightly ironic, yes?
As I interact and learn more about the community, my project goals are continually shifting- but the general idea of oral histories and examining their interactions within Israeli society remains the overall theme. My first few have been everything I could have asked for. When Amoun picked me up the first time, she said, 'welcome home.' I've gotten home-cooked Arabic and Gypsy food everyday, and the children are so much fun, even if insistent on driving me crazy by not doing their English homework. Amoun, well, she deserves a separate post on another day. She is one of the most interesting people, made even more colorful by her unending opinions on everything. She's a perfectionist, socialite, humanitarian, philosopher, makeshift mother, community leader, artist, and so much more all in one. Working with her for the next two months will be enlightening and quite the experience.
So far, Amoun has made it clear that as much as she wants me to help with teaching the kids English, she's going to put me to work with everything else, as well. I've been charged with organizing the products for an upcoming bazaar with the diplomatic ex-pats, cleaning and re-organizing the jewelry they have made, finding and developing contacts for fundraising in the United States, and other random projects she mentions flippantly throughout the day. I've got no problem doing it though, because her cooking is AMAZING. She is also going to let me tag along in meeting the mayor of Jerusalem, Nir Barkat, about advancing Gypsy rights. So cool. She is slowly introducing me to everything gyspy, which hopefully within 4 weeks I can start having tangible results for the project. That is, if I don't die from a shai nana (Mint tea) overdose- I've had around 6 cups of tea everyday. I can't help it- Amoun makes pot after pot after pot, and the shopkeeper on the corner offers tea everytime I walk by his shop (two times a day)- and you just don't refuse it when its offered in this culture. Sigh, I guess I just have to keep drinking this utterly delicious tea.
This post is insanely long, and even though I could go on for hours, I'll spare you. Next post- the kids, more details on the Domaris, and some commentary on the racism that has blown me away.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
So That Promise Not to Go to the West Bank? Yeah, about that...
So on my second full day in Israel, I ended up in the West Bank- Balata Camp and Nablus, to be a little more precise. One of the most amazing individuals I have ever met, a friend from Egypt last summer, had volunteered for a summer at a Yafa Cultural Center in Balata, which is a Palestinian Refugee Camp within the West Bank. Balata is famous for being a grassroot location for the intifadas (Palestinian uprisings in the Israel-Palestinian Conflict) and is a central point of the political resistance in Palestine to Israeli occupation; the second Intifada in 2000 had its' West Bank origins here. There are over 25,000 people living in the camp (1 sq. kilometer), leading it to be one of the most densely populated locations on Earth. The concrete homes are built in the same locations as the original UN tents, so quarters are cramped and they deal with it by continually building up, up, and up some more. The organization that she had worked with aimed to redirect the energy of young men away from the conflict and towards othere ends, including culture and education- they were holding a workshop on the Native Americans the day our group was there. The individual who ran the center took time to sit down and talk with us about some of the history, and it was members of the center who so graciously took us around the camp and city.
It's not a regular highlight on the 'Come See Israel' travel guide, and we were only able to go because my friend had connections within the camp. We had to have a resident escort, because in the past, the IDF (Israeli Defense Force) has entered the camp in plain clothes pretending to be activists, and therefore making everyone else visiting suspicious. Yet my friend's friends in the camp were absolutely wonderful- they were so willing to share the story of the camp and city, as well as their own personal ones. I don't care what opinion you may hold on this conflict, there is no denying that the victims are many.
Walking up to the camp, there was beautiful graffiti art- one in particular, of UN refugee tents with the numbers of the resolutions calling for the right of return for Palestinians to their homes (aka not in Balata refugee camp for over 50 years), was particularly telling of the situation and political rhetoric that engulfs this conflict. The camp itself was pretty much what you would expect with 25,000 people living in 1 sq. kilometer of land- for lack of a better word, shitty. Our escort (which were some of the most amazingly courteous and humble young men I have ever met) took us around the camp, pointing out the sniper stands where the IDF can get the best view down the allies and the bullet holes. They also described an infamous tactic of the IDF, where to avoid Palestinian fire, they started at one end of the camp, and blast holes straight through the middle of the houses down a street, using the homes as cover.
Nablus was just as heart-wrenching and a vivid visual representation of this conflict. The martyr posters of young Palestinian men lined the walls of the city, along with various memorials to those lost (check the pics). On a light note, we had some AMAZING kunafa dessert (which originated in Nablus, and if you haven't tried, you haven't lived, khalas), and visited some candy and soap factories. Grandma, I got you some of the best soap in the world.
The trip back, we had three check points to get through: two by foot and one by car. The first out of Nablus left me feeling icky inside, since our American, Canadian, and Australian passports allowed us to bypass the Palestinians who had to wait in an abysmally long line. My friend detailed how this checkpoint was famous for the degrading treatment of the Palestinians. (Note: they are now run by private contractors). We drove by some Israeli settlements in the West Bank, and before going to the third checkpoint, I was able to view some of the famous art along the dividing wall between Israel and the West Bank. Inspiring, beautiful, yet burdened and full of pain doesn't even begin to describe it. After the pain-in-the-ass-let's-put-you-in-a-cage-and-make-you-feel-like-an-animal-checkpoint we were back in Israel. Gotta say, love that American passport while despising what it means at the same time- privilege of birth defines this country. (PS Israeli citizens are not allowed into the West Bank--??)
I feel woefully inadequate to have a dialogue on any of this- there are so many opinions, sides, factors, passions, and unknowns, that I would feel silly trying to- there are too many others who live and breath this for me to add anything of substance. If anything, too many people who know too little say too much already. Therefore, this post is to recount what I saw in one day with honest sentiments- and that is all. Everything else should be saved for a meaningful conversation (possible with this stuff and the passions it invokes? Debatable.) I'm just gonna leave it at that, even if it is a cop out.
But I had Kunafa. So. Good.
And the Pope is coming tomorrow (very obvious with the MILLIONS of Papal flags EVERYWHERE in the Old City). I also made the brilliant mistake today when manuevering the alleys of the Old City of speaking Arabic to some very obviously non-Muslim, non-Arabic Christians gearing up for the Pope, before running into the littlest old lady who stopped me to say watch my purse, since 'those Muslims' were targeting the Christians and tourists, stealing their stuff. Oi.
And my current home in the Old City made the New York Times today: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/05/10/world/middleeast/10jerusalem.html?_r=1&ref=middleeast
It's not a regular highlight on the 'Come See Israel' travel guide, and we were only able to go because my friend had connections within the camp. We had to have a resident escort, because in the past, the IDF (Israeli Defense Force) has entered the camp in plain clothes pretending to be activists, and therefore making everyone else visiting suspicious. Yet my friend's friends in the camp were absolutely wonderful- they were so willing to share the story of the camp and city, as well as their own personal ones. I don't care what opinion you may hold on this conflict, there is no denying that the victims are many.
Walking up to the camp, there was beautiful graffiti art- one in particular, of UN refugee tents with the numbers of the resolutions calling for the right of return for Palestinians to their homes (aka not in Balata refugee camp for over 50 years), was particularly telling of the situation and political rhetoric that engulfs this conflict. The camp itself was pretty much what you would expect with 25,000 people living in 1 sq. kilometer of land- for lack of a better word, shitty. Our escort (which were some of the most amazingly courteous and humble young men I have ever met) took us around the camp, pointing out the sniper stands where the IDF can get the best view down the allies and the bullet holes. They also described an infamous tactic of the IDF, where to avoid Palestinian fire, they started at one end of the camp, and blast holes straight through the middle of the houses down a street, using the homes as cover.
Nablus was just as heart-wrenching and a vivid visual representation of this conflict. The martyr posters of young Palestinian men lined the walls of the city, along with various memorials to those lost (check the pics). On a light note, we had some AMAZING kunafa dessert (which originated in Nablus, and if you haven't tried, you haven't lived, khalas), and visited some candy and soap factories. Grandma, I got you some of the best soap in the world.
The trip back, we had three check points to get through: two by foot and one by car. The first out of Nablus left me feeling icky inside, since our American, Canadian, and Australian passports allowed us to bypass the Palestinians who had to wait in an abysmally long line. My friend detailed how this checkpoint was famous for the degrading treatment of the Palestinians. (Note: they are now run by private contractors). We drove by some Israeli settlements in the West Bank, and before going to the third checkpoint, I was able to view some of the famous art along the dividing wall between Israel and the West Bank. Inspiring, beautiful, yet burdened and full of pain doesn't even begin to describe it. After the pain-in-the-ass-let's-put-you-in-a-cage-and-make-you-feel-like-an-animal-checkpoint we were back in Israel. Gotta say, love that American passport while despising what it means at the same time- privilege of birth defines this country. (PS Israeli citizens are not allowed into the West Bank--??)
I feel woefully inadequate to have a dialogue on any of this- there are so many opinions, sides, factors, passions, and unknowns, that I would feel silly trying to- there are too many others who live and breath this for me to add anything of substance. If anything, too many people who know too little say too much already. Therefore, this post is to recount what I saw in one day with honest sentiments- and that is all. Everything else should be saved for a meaningful conversation (possible with this stuff and the passions it invokes? Debatable.) I'm just gonna leave it at that, even if it is a cop out.
But I had Kunafa. So. Good.
And the Pope is coming tomorrow (very obvious with the MILLIONS of Papal flags EVERYWHERE in the Old City). I also made the brilliant mistake today when manuevering the alleys of the Old City of speaking Arabic to some very obviously non-Muslim, non-Arabic Christians gearing up for the Pope, before running into the littlest old lady who stopped me to say watch my purse, since 'those Muslims' were targeting the Christians and tourists, stealing their stuff. Oi.
And my current home in the Old City made the New York Times today: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/05/10/world/middleeast/10jerusalem.html?_r=1&ref=middleeast
Thursday, May 7, 2009
By Demand
So really, this time, it's going to happen. I'm terrible at this kind of thing, but by demand on the 'rents, family, and friends, this was the easiest way to document my summer.
To the title of the post, it's slightly sentimental (and very out of character,) but this is the one lullaby from my childhood that my mom would read over and over again (for note, I was was blinkin', we had to say the our name as mom read through the poem). The theme of dream catching I thought was pertinent to this blog and summer. Mom, you oft throw your hands up in despair over how little we seem to listen to you, but know this one stuck.
After five airports, I landed in Tel Aviv, at the bleary-eyed time of 2:30 AM. It was mostly uneventful, and I would like to say the US Airways guy in the Charlotte airport restored my faith in customer service. I guarantee if he had not taken a half hour to painstakenly write out my travel plans on my luggage, it would not have made it onto the four planes that it did.
An extremely shy Palestinian man picked me up at the airport, and when I spoke Arabic to him (in my disjointed and hopeless way) he got over the shy-factor pretty fast, tumbling quickly into the marriage, boyfriend, conversation- starting out with the ؛ حلوة؛ and then moving into the beautiful comments. Oh, Middle East, how I missed you and your forward gentlemen. He was extremely helpful, and his willingness to offer assistance was something I've come across frequently in the past day (a discussion on motives aside). My dear friend Yossie was sure he had me convinced he was an international singer with a girlfriend in Switzerland, and just wanted to practice his English with me. Now, Yossie, you know how to say philanthropic. A good days' work, yes?
I won't bore you with the logistical details of the day, but my hostel is absolutely beautiful in a very nostalgic way; I can see the Dome of the Rock and the majority of the Old City from the roof. In my wanderings, I came across a gentleman who called himself Vin Diesel, and I think out of boredom, proceeded to tell me his life story of international girlfriends and crumbling business as a result of the political situation. I had some amazing hummus, listening to the Call to Prayer over the city of Jerusalem, and soaked it all in. I'm here. Wow. And tomorrow, I get to work.
PS I'll go ahead and throw out a huge THANK YOU to Mr. Burch- who made this trip possible with his generosity.
To the title of the post, it's slightly sentimental (and very out of character,) but this is the one lullaby from my childhood that my mom would read over and over again (for note, I was was blinkin', we had to say the our name as mom read through the poem). The theme of dream catching I thought was pertinent to this blog and summer. Mom, you oft throw your hands up in despair over how little we seem to listen to you, but know this one stuck.
After five airports, I landed in Tel Aviv, at the bleary-eyed time of 2:30 AM. It was mostly uneventful, and I would like to say the US Airways guy in the Charlotte airport restored my faith in customer service. I guarantee if he had not taken a half hour to painstakenly write out my travel plans on my luggage, it would not have made it onto the four planes that it did.
An extremely shy Palestinian man picked me up at the airport, and when I spoke Arabic to him (in my disjointed and hopeless way) he got over the shy-factor pretty fast, tumbling quickly into the marriage, boyfriend, conversation- starting out with the ؛ حلوة؛ and then moving into the beautiful comments. Oh, Middle East, how I missed you and your forward gentlemen. He was extremely helpful, and his willingness to offer assistance was something I've come across frequently in the past day (a discussion on motives aside). My dear friend Yossie was sure he had me convinced he was an international singer with a girlfriend in Switzerland, and just wanted to practice his English with me. Now, Yossie, you know how to say philanthropic. A good days' work, yes?
I won't bore you with the logistical details of the day, but my hostel is absolutely beautiful in a very nostalgic way; I can see the Dome of the Rock and the majority of the Old City from the roof. In my wanderings, I came across a gentleman who called himself Vin Diesel, and I think out of boredom, proceeded to tell me his life story of international girlfriends and crumbling business as a result of the political situation. I had some amazing hummus, listening to the Call to Prayer over the city of Jerusalem, and soaked it all in. I'm here. Wow. And tomorrow, I get to work.
PS I'll go ahead and throw out a huge THANK YOU to Mr. Burch- who made this trip possible with his generosity.
Winkin', Blinkin', and Nod, one night sailed off in a wooden shoe;
Sailed on a river of crystal light into a sea of dew.
"Where are you going and what do you wish?" the old moon asked the three.
"We've come to fish for the herring fish that live in this beautiful sea.
Nets of silver and gold have we," said Winkin', Blinkin' and Nod.
The old moon laughed and sang a song as they rocked in the wooden shoe.
And the wind that sped them all night long ruffled the waves of dew.
Now the little stars are the herring fish that live in that beautiful sea;
"Cast your nets wherever you wish never afraid are we!"
So cried the stars to the fishermen three - Winkin', Blinkin' and Nod.
So all night long their nets they threw to the stars in the twinkling foam.
'Til down from the skies came the wooden shoe bringing the fishermen home.
'Twas all so pretty a sail it seemed as if it could not be.
Some folks say 'twas a dream they dreamed of sailing that misty sea.
But I shall name you the fishermen three - Winkin', Blinkin' and Nod.
Now Winkin' and Blinkin' are two little eyes and Nod is a little head.
And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies is a wee ones trundle bed.
So close your eyes while mother sings of wonderful sights that be.
And you shall see those beautiful things as you sail on the misty sea
Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three - Winkin', Blinkin' and Nod.
--Eugene Field
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