Sulha - Day 3

I didn't go the second day, wanting to just enjoy being home for a day and doing nothing. But Hubby promised we'd go the last day. Stupidly, I asked my 13 year old son if he'd join us, feeling Jewishly guilty that he went nowhere interesting this summer and wanting to enlighten him a bit. Hubby drove at a very reasonable 90 kilometers an hour and got us there in time for lunch! The weather was just as hot and sticky as it was the first day and no one seemed to be moving or wanting to move. The Jordanians were leaving soon and I couldn't find my new friends from Amman. The entire event was undermined from the huge happening that was going on in a small place near the Gaza strip called Kfar Maimon, where thousands - some say 45,000, some say 100,000 - of anti-disengagement demonstrators met for 3 days in the hopes of marching to Gaza. So all media was there, as were 20,000 police and army personnel. Our gathering seemed to attract only 1,000 (last year saw 4,000). I spoke with a Tibetin Buddhist monk from Daramsala, who was sent by the Dalai Llama, chatted with a Senegal Sufi Sheikh and met up with my friends from the Jerusalem interfaith group.

Over dinner, we sympathized with the people living in the Gaza strip, who were going to have to leave their homes, and where all their children were born, where some were buried, and where they all have their incomes, mostly in agriculture. I told her that if they were Arabs, I would feel just as awful if they had to removed from their homes. My friend reminded me that that is going on all the time anyways - by way house demolitions. Ah yes, and sometimes they are only given 24 hours notice. Perhaps the Jews are a bit luckier. But it's sad nevertheless.

Over at the House of Prayer, a huge crowd gathered - together with television crews - listening to the settler Rabbi Froman (whose wife was wearing an orange headscarf with a blue band around it - orange and blue - those who are both for and against the disengagement at the same time). Another Israeli was arguing about why the Rabbi is for peace when he is living where he is living. Yawn. I guess I dare not say where I come from, because I'm not in the mood for this - again. And there was some yelling and screaming from various sides. But in the end, as it should be, everyone was in good spirits and seemed to understand (even if they didn't agree) the Other a bit more.

Over at the women's tent things got real lively. There was a dj who put on great world dance music and we danced to Brazilian, Turkish, Sufi, Arabic , Israeli, Greek music with great abandon. We all looked like crazed gypsies in our colourful clothing. The Arab women took off their headscarves and we danced together in groups, or alone or in pairs, gyrating away. I brought my belly dance belt and put it on Ibtisam, while she boogied away. Another woman put one of her scarves around my hips. We kept this up, despite the heat, for a good half hour.

Back with Hubby and Pest Son, who was bored out of his skull and who didn't have the same enlightening experience as Abed had, they hadn't moved from their spot at the snack bar, eating everything there was to eat there, having seconds, thirds and fourths. I think they qualified for being the biggest financial supporters of the Sulha that evening. Hubby was telling me that he and Son were the only people wearing socks. Everyone else was in sandals or barefoot. Son finally fell asleep and Hubby was looking at the stars and at me nodding towards an area in back of the tents "where it's quiet and no one will see."

Huh? What the 'hayel' is in that knafe, I wondered. Or was it the chai? Mint tea? Who knows. I hadn't seen him this amorous in years....