Signs

My daughter was semi-complaining to her friends about Facebook.  It seems she is getting a lot of requests from people with Arabic names who want to befriend her.  Clicking on their names, she sees One Mutual Friend.  Mom.    But she ignores their requests.  The family laughs.   My other daughter is going out with a guy in the police who is attending the demonstration in Sheikh Jarrah in East Jerusalem to make sure things are not getting out of hand. 

"He better not arrest anyone there." I warned her.   I explained to her what is going on there, because I'm not sure she knows.  A while back, Jewish families moved into the predominantly Arab neighborhood of Sheikh Jarrah.  I would generally not have a problem with mixed neighborhoods, myself believing all or most neighborhoods should be mixed.  But trouble is, they evicted the Arab families who had been living there since the 1950s because the homes were Jewish-owned before 1948 and a court ordered that Jews would be allowed in.  That would have been ok, had the original Jewish families moved back in and the Arab families would be allowed to move back into what were their homes pre-1948, which are now in West Jerusalem in a very expensive neighborhood called Talbieh.  Fair is Fair, no?  But this is not the case and the neighborhood is now where weekly demonstrations take place.

And to backtrack just a bit... 

On Thursday we had our interfaith meeting in Abu Dis.  A group of 6 Jews trudged past the large red sign near the entrance to Azariya that says entry to Israelis is forbidden , though I can't figure out the logic of the sign.  Is it a legality that Israelis are forbidden entry to this town?  Because it's not Area A, like the cities of Jericho, Hebron, Ramallah, Nablus, Jenin - which are under complete Palestinian control, unlike Area B, where the Israelis have military control and Areas C, in which Israelis have pretty much all control.  We thought this to be Area B, which means it isn't illegal for Israelis to enter, but it is pretty much discouraged.  The area past this red sign brings one into the third world.  There is garbage on the roads, which are terribly paved, and there is garbage piled high on the sides of the roads.  On one side, we see Arabs burning a fire to keep warm.  Cars and taxis are slowing down to see this strange group of people walking on the side of the road.  We see Abed's car across from the florist and try to cross the street.

"This is just like Cairo" remarks one of us, when it takes ages to run across the road, due to the unruly traffic.  We pile into a van and a car and make our way to Abed's office in Abu Dis. A new group of young men from Nablus join us for the first time.  This is the first time they're in a religious dialogue with Jews and especially with those Jews whom they consider settlers, since we live over the green line.  They seem excited to be with us.  I hope we don't disappoint.  They are accountants, stockbrockers, ministry of education officials, etc.  We talk about Tolerance and respect for others in our religions.  We all are happy to share each other's religious views with the other. 

Afterwards, one of the Nablus guys tell us that he once drove his car with a Palestinian licence plate into Maaleh Adumim.  He didn't get very far.  The soldiers began to freak out (understandably - since this is not the norm) and yell at him - What exactly does he think he's doing???  The Nablus guy says there was no sign saying that his car wasn't allowed into Maaleh Adumim.  It's true.  There's no sign warning Palestinians that they can't drive their cars into our city.  It's supposed to be a known fact, like not driving your car on Yom Kippur.  He's joking around with the soldier, giving him a difficult time.  He's obviously a shit disturber.  The soldier checks his ID and claims the Nablus guy's car is a stolen vehicle.  The paper he gives the Nablus guy says the stolen vehicle is a 1997 Subaru, when in fact the guy is driving a 2009 Kia.  They confiscate the car until the soldier's superior comes by or was it the police?  I'm not completely sure, but the superior rechecks and the car the Nablus guy is driving seems to be fine.  The car is given back and Mr. Shit Disturber who wanted to drive into my town but couldn't, is sent back home.

On the way back from Abu Dis, our host is telling us that Israeli finally gave the OK - after many years of waiting -  to pave the main road in Azariya.  I am so happy.  This is surely a good sign.

Twane

I took two friends of mine to Jerusalem to the south Hebron Palestinian village of Twane.  It is not even shown on the road map we had.  I met people from there a few months ago on the Center for Emerging Futures weekend.  They were more amused than angry at the fact that I live in a settlement and that I showed up at an Israeli/Palestinian event.

Hubby was nervous at my galavanting around the West Bank, after all, it was just a day or so ago when a settler was shot and killed while driving through the northern part of the West Bank.  I told my husband "I'm doing a mitzvah (good deed).  When you go to do a mitzvah, then you don't have to worry."

I don't know how much of a mitzvah it was, because all I was doing was giving the villagers a few sweaters of mine that I hadn't worn in two years and nothing else.  But I felt that they needed to know that Israelis cared about them and so going there would make a difference and give them some sense of hope.

We drove on Route 60, past the Jewish settlements of Carmel and Maon and a bit after that was the small shanty of a place called Twane where our host met with us, as well as a few Italians from an organization called "Dove".  We sat in a small room and our host told us his or their story.  In the 80s the Israeli government drove them off the land and some few years later they were told that they could return.  However, since their land is in Area C, this means that they can't build anything - no homes, no schools, no medical clinics, nothing.  In fact, there is a small electric generator which gives them electricity for only three hours a day, which they use during evening hours.  As for water, they draw them from wells.  There is very little running water.  They managed to get their roads paved, but we hear there is a demolition order for the road, the first floor (!) of the clinic and the school, which were all built without permits - because they would never get permits to build. 

Medical clinic - there's a demolition order for the first floor only!

On top of all this, they are below the Jewish settlement of Havat Maon, whose residents terrorize them often, which is the reason for international presence in their village.

A handsome young man coming out of the tiny mosque saw me taking a photo of a local woman drawing water from her well. 

Local Mosque

Drawing water

He tells me in Arabic about how they don't have water because of "the Jews".  I look at him.  Do I  or don't I tell him who I am.  I tell him.  "I'm Jewish.  And I'm sorry."  He looks at me. 
"Not all Jews of course, only the Zionists."  I sigh.

The kids of the village are walking around barefoot and the one little girl I see is wearing shoes a few sizes too big.

Local kid and a friend

another kid - same friend

Our host is telling us that he is looking forward to a gathering of Israelis and Palestinians later on - perhaps to plan a summer camp for Israeli and Palestinian children.  I told him I'd love to join the planning group.  He seems happy.

One woman invites me in to see some embroidered stuff she is selling.  I buy a woven straw plate for pita.  It was made in the village.  She is charging me 70 shekels for it and I know I'm being overcharged, but I wouldn't dare bargain about the price.  I pay it and tell my friends, she needs this money.  They understand and are glad that I bought something because they hadn't.

On the way back, they ask me "How do you still have hope?"

I tell them - "Look at the way these people live.  Their daily life is so difficult.  But yet, they still want to work and meet with Israelis in the hope that one day, the government will come to its senses and give them the bare minimum necessary - like water and electricity.  That's all they ask for. Instead of getting violent, they prefer to meet with Israelis and let them know of their hardships.  That's so commendable, since they get harrassed so frequently.  If I were in their place, I don't think I'd be as patient."

Afterwards at my friends' home, we were so contemplative.  I wondered to myself if the Israeli government would see that the villagers are a quiet lot, and if there is no trouble coming from that village, couldn't they just let them have electricity and water?  And then after a few more years of quiet, could they not let them build?  Wouldn't that be more constructive than constantly issuing demolition orders?

Ancient stone residences

 I wondered if I had made a mistake taking my friends there, as it was a heavy trip - very emotional to see and hear these things.  My friends avoid newspapers and hearing the news, because they prefer to just focus on positive things in life.  And this was like hearing the news.  But they assured me that they needed to hear and see what was going on and thanked me for taking them to places they would not see otherwise.

The Country of Everest - Beit Jala

Last weekend, I had the opportunity to spend a weekend at the Everest Hotel, which had been given good publicity a couple of weeks ago in the Jerusalem Post. The conference was sponsored by the Center for Emerging Futures advertised as:

Building Grassroots Partnerships

Beyond opinions, beyond fears,
beyond simplistic solutions and beyond politics:

A meeting of Palestinians – Israelis – Internationals
A human gathering of listening and co-creation

Sounded just like what I needed. I remembered the tough time I experienced last time I was there two years ago and I hoped things would be a bit different this time.

I didn't feel like spending money on a cab to get to Beit Jala. I took the bus from Maaleh Adumim to Talpiot when I decided I would take the Arab 21 bus straight to Beit Jala. I saw an Arab woman standing by the stop and started a conversation with her in my very broken Arabic but enough that she understood that I wanted to get to the Everest Hotel. She was so pleased that I asked for her assistance, after all, it's not every day that an Israeli woman would come over to ask an Arab woman for directions. She quickly offered me some of the seeds she was eating and invited me for coffee at her house. I would have loved to go, but I was going to be an hour late already. I sat in the back of the bus, some people staring, probably wondering if I was Jewish, a journalist or just a plain ol' foreigner or all three. The bus pretty much emptied out at a stop where taxis were waiting to take people to Hebron. It took about 15 minutes to get to Beit Jala and the bus left me off quite close to the hotel.

The introduction circle had already begun. I was listening to people's share of why they came - some had never met the other before, some wanted an end to the occupation, some wanted this for their children and I said I needed this kind of gathering for my mental health, which elicited some laughter. Of course, I mentioned that I came from Maaleh Adumim, which caused some murmuring among the crowed, but I happily saw that there was another young man from my city too.

We sat in a listening circle with Raed from an area near Ariel. He was harsh. No settlements! he cried, No occupation!!! YOU move to Tel Aviv and I move to Maaleh Adumim. He glared at me.

I told him that's impossible. Although I love to visit Tel Aviv, I'm not moving from Maaleh Adumim and if he wants to move and live with me in my community, that would be fine with me. I'm obviously not thinking or caring what my other 37,000 neighbors think of my ideas. He quieted down because he actually liked the idea of "living with me" and kept on repeating "living with you?" about 20 times. But he still believed that the settlements were the only problem and if they were removed, peace would miraculously appear in the region. I said the conflict was much older and deeper than 1967. He walked away from our table only to return with some crackers shaped like fish and handed each one of us a cracker - like a peace offering of sorts. This we thought was a lovely gesture from a man so angry, and we spoke about it in the larger circle.

Other forms of "giving" were done that weekend. One young Palestinian from Hebron said he was touched when, on Friday night, he complained of a horrible stomach ache. A Jewish woman made him some mint tea.

Another said he had a terrible headache and a Jewish tai chi instructor gave him some treatment and within minutes his headache was gone.

Jewish Oud player Yair Dalal entertained us on Friday evening with young musicians from Beit Jala.

This weekend I connected more deeply with some people, especially some of the women that came with their husbands from Twane and Umm al-Kheir. My Arabic was slightly better than it was a couple of years ago and their husbands spoke good English. They were such sweet people. One came over to me after I had lit the Sabbath candles and wished me a warm "shabbat shalom". They feel tormented by the Jews who live in nearby Carmel and Maon farms. Although the settlements receive 100% water supply and electricity, they don't have electricity and running water more than 3 hours a day. I guess we can't exchange email addresses. By the end of the weekend, my partnership goal/promise was to assist the families as best as I can by them making goat cheese and milk and yogurt products, as well as olive oil products and assisting these families in selling their products to tour groups and individuals who visit the South Hebron area. They can't really produce organic or any veggies or fruits, for that matter, on a large scale basis because of the water/electrical shortages. They are just able to grow whatever they can for their own use. But I figure this might help them out just a bit.

At breakfast Saturday morning, I sat with two young women, one raven-haired Jewish beauty from Belgium, whom everyone mistook for an Arab woman, and one who recently moved from Seattle who was 23 years old, but had the compassion and maturity of a much older woman. I told her my kids, who were her age, just thought about parties, shopping, friends, etc. She told me she was born an old woman and I laughed. We then sat around and spoke about visiting one another in Tel Aviv and Ashdod and perhaps having brunch on the Tel Aviv Port one day and then the conversation abruptly stopped.

"You know 'they' can't do all these things we're just taking for granted" - we almost said in unison - looking at our Arab table mates. We were almost embarrassed by this.

Leaving my nirvana on Saturday afternoon was difficult this time. We really connected and just this week I had a call from Twane asking when I plan to come down to visit. I told them for sure later on this month. Promises made have to be kept.

videos of Tantur Peace Festival, Jerusalem

I know I'm no Spielberg or anything, and this wasn't even taken by a video camera - just my old and worn Canon A75. But you can get the drift of Israelis and Palestinians grooving together and hanging out, listening to each other's music.



Palestinian Hip Hop




It Takes a Revolution – Palestinian Hip Hop



Jewish prayers to Indian music



Debka dancing

Back from Petra - Part I

I don't know how many posts this trip to Jordan will turn out - but I guess the best place to start is from the beginning.

There were 11 of us in a minivan (which started out in Maghar up in the Galilee) going to the Jordanian border at Aqaba - 4 Moslems, 2 Christians, 1 Druze, 4 Jews. Of course, before the trip, everyone I know had been telling me "watch out" "be careful" because going into an Arab country is always scary for Jews who are, well, frightened of Arabs. I smile at these poor souls and say "thank you" for their warnings. But for me, the Jewish wanderer, it's just another exciting and wonderful adventure into the unknown.



Four hours after leaving Jerusalem we ended up by the Israeli/Jordanian border. Passing over to Jordan from the Israeli side was uneventful. But when we got to the Jordanian side, they held our group for nearly three hours because one of the East Jerusalem women held Jordanian citizenship and Jordanians are not allowed through the Aqaba border (only the Allenby border near Jericho). It took alot of cajoling and persuading the border people that we needed to be at this conference tonight. We weren't about to leave this poor woman behind as the rest of us were allowed entry.

I would have not have minded the long wait so much if this border had an exciting duty-free shop or a restaurant for God's sake. One of the Moslem men told me that at the other border crossing at Beit Shean, there is a really big duty-free shop like the kind you find in Baghdad. Sorry, wouldn't know 'bout that. Not yet, anyways. We wandered over to a place where a sign said "cafeteria" but when we walked in they seemed to stock only 4 different kinds of chocolate bars and some soft drinks.

"Any food here?" we asked.

The guy behind the counter smiled weakly and said "Food?" as if he hadn't seen food since Turkish rule ended decades ago.

But the bathrooms were nostalgic for me because they were the no-toilet type - the "you squat and wash the poop down with water from a bucket" type that we all know and love from India.

I went to the bank to change money. There, lying on the couch, was the cashier/teller.

"Ahlan Wahsahlan" I smiled at him for guiltily disturbing his siesta. I gave him a whole bunch of shekels which he gave back to me in 58 Jordanian Dinars.

"You could have gotten a much better rate in East Jerusalem" said my friend. I'll know for next time.

After I had done all my errands (after all, there was nothing much else to do there except perhaps buy more chocolate bars), I joined our group who had since settled in the border manager's air-conditioned office, seated comfortably in ornate couches and plush seats - old and worn - they once saw a better day - but still ornate in the Arabic fashion. We joked around with him, teaching him a bit of Hebrew. He was very kind and pleasant and patient. This was probably the busiest day he had in months. Perhaps he was happy he had been kept busy because in the middle of his room, in front of his desk, was a 21" t.v.. I especially enjoyed watching the Jordanian Action movie channel he had on. Plus, I added another word in Arabic to my stash of Arabic words that I know which was - Jowiz safar (passport).

Finally, after 2 1/2 hours of calls to the ministry of the interior and other assorted officials, Ms. East Jerusalem was let through and we were only too happy to be on our way to Petra in an old van - with as many flies as passengers.



It took two hours to get to Petra and we watched and photographed the sunset from the van windows. The desert changed to a more green mountainous terrain and when the sun set we got to the Petra Panorama hotel. All of us went to check in and when the reception people took a look at me and then their eyes went over their list of people they had to place in pairs in our respective rooms - they kind of mumbled between themselves and checked in others before me. What was going on??? Seems the event organizers didn't recognize my Hebrew name and had me rooming with a guy.

"Is he young and cute?" I asked. In the end, they put me together with a Palestinian woman, which thrilled me somewhat because I felt it would be more meaningful to room with a Palestinian woman rather than with someone us Israelis have no conflicts with.

Palestinian-Israeli Comedy Night

I got an email two weeks ago about this small tour taking place and what enjoyable news it was for me. I had been toying with going plowing and planting with Palestinians, but sometimes that can be scary and stressful (not because of the Palestinians either), and because of the stress in my everyday life, I need something not-so-stressful. So when this item came up I immediately forwarded it to everyone I knew who was into peace activities.

The show I went to was last Thursday night at the beautiful American Colony hotel in East Jerusalem. The place was packed with many journalists there, curious as everyone else there, how this tour came about and who were these joksters anyways.

I went with my girlfriend because Hubby has been a troll of late and they don't like to laugh much. There was free wine and chips/pretzels at the entrance, and I thought if I had a couple of drinks (and probably the comedians thought so too), I'd loosen up and laugh a lot more.

Turns out I didn't need those drinks. The guys were so funny, my stomach hurt and my voice was hoarse from laughing for 2 hours straight.

There were 4 comedians - 3 Jewish, 1 Arab. Pretty much summed up the way the audience turned out as well. A smattering of Arabs and a whole bunch of Jews.

First up was Aaron Freeman, an African-American convert to Judaism, who had us in stitches about reactions to his converting - "Why? What they really want to say is "what's wrong wit' you!! You didn't have enough trouble? You want to be an extra credit target for the Ku Klux Klan?" He explained that Ethiopian Jews in Israel have no idea who Martin Luther King was, and after he explained everything to them - a bit of US history, slavery, the 1960s riots, the deep South, segregation, they were like 'Oh we see you Jews suffered too!" or something like that. Whatever. It's much funnier when you hear it live.

Then Charley Warady was explaining how it was for him to make aliyah - and when he passed a checkpoint, he thought it was a toll booth and threw a couple of coins in and drove through only to get shot at..."Gee they get so mad here when you don't have exact change.."

Ray Hanania, the sole Arab comedian, was up next. "I see you (the audience) as potential hostages!" and told us about his harrowing airport experiences because of his Arab heritage. "Are you on my flight?" is a question nervously asked of him by other passengers. And when he went to the bathroom on his flight into Israel, Alan Dershowitz met him on the way back to his seat to explain why there was someone else now sitting in his seat...

Yisrael Campbell, a ultra-orthodox-looking Jew, also a convert to Judaism, was explaining that he was the nephew of Jesus since his mother had been in a convent and it gets up great parking spaces in Jerusalem, like when he goes to the Church of Scotland he tells people - "I'm His nephew." "Oh sure, go right in". On his reasons for converting? "I was a vaguely Catholic but Catholic enough to know that I was going to hell, so I switched religions." He said that Jerusalem's clergy - Rabbis, Priests and Imams all got together to fight to Gay Pride Parade because they pleased "don't affect the peace of our city!" Huh? Where do they live? They don't get together when there are house demolitions in East Jerusalem or bus bombings in West Jerusalem - what brings them together?" He whispers - the Pride Parade.



I know, I should have written all that funny stuff up. But if YouTube works, I'll get it posted there.

After the show I introduced myself to Ray and told him I work in interfaith. He was very interested in interfaith work himself and years ago he said most groups were afraid it could get offensive, sensitive, or whatever, so he never pursued it.

Someone from CNN interviewed me afterwards, asking if I found any of this stuff offensive. I told her absolutely not - I had seen Borat and if I found THAT funny, this surely wouldn't be more offensive, and yes, I did understand Ray's jokes, I understand Moslem customs about multiple wives and burkas, etc. and that we should have more of this sort of intercultural stuff taking place here, but it breaks down barriers.

My friend and I went to the fireplace lounge to have a drink afterwards. The music was soft Arabic music and the waiters were elegant and genteel and made me feel like a princess. I was feeling so high. And I was sad on the other hand that there was so little of these types of evenings where we can just laugh all together at our government and religious customs. I went home by bus and heard two young men in the front of the bus speaking Arabic. It's quite unusual for Arabs to take "that" bus back from Jerusalem over the green line - they probably live in neighboring Azariya, which they did as they got off the bus just before the entrance of our suburban town. And no one hassled them on the bus, or gave a second glance, and I thought it should be like this all the time, shouldn't it. Just a cacaphony of Hebrew and Arabic all the time, everywhere.