The entire week I did not spend a single shekel. I visited friends and families from the peace gathering that I went to a month ago, and despite their economic strife (30% unemployment and 60% below the poverty line) every meal, every drink, every bus ride, every night out, even my cigarettes were paid for by my hosts. I was welcomed into their homes like a long lost brother. I was not allowed to lift a finger.
To experience this kindness in the face of the virtual prison in which they live, which my government essentially helped to build, just blew me away.
About the prison:
Every city and road is surrounded by a tall barbed wire fence or a 20 foot wall. Each road going in and out of a city passes through a military checkpoint which stops every car, checks each I.D, and sometimes harasses Palestinian passengers for hours before letting them pass. For almost all Palestinians, leaving the West Bank is impossible, for many of them leaving their city to see close family members is impossible. The neighborhoods near the walls are silent. The businesses are closed and there is no life on the streets. In most cities military vehicles patrol the streets every night.
The normalcy of violence, especially for the children, is absolutely unbelievable. One of the friends I visited was a 17 year old kid who grew up in Jenin, the major breeding ground for suicide bombers and freedom fighters until after the 2nd Entifada (uprising) from 2000 to 2004. Instead of pictures of girls or cars on his computer, it is full of pictures dead bodies--some burned beyond recognition, some in parts, etc--each of which he knows by name. The streets are filled with posters of martyrs holding automatic weapons. Half the toys sold in the streets are fake m16 rifles. I remember drawing countless pictures of basketball games as a child, while children here draw countless pictures of tanks and destroyed houses.
At this point, you may want to know how on earth I felt safe in this place. At times I didn't, but most of the time I felt fine. It certainly helped to have friends everywhere I went. But most importantly I was armed with weapons of my own. Whenever I felt like I was in an uncomfortable situation, instead of wallowing in fear, I approached people with a smile and a greeting in Arabic. Immediately, all tension was dissapated.They asked me my name, where I was from, and if I liked George Bush. The correct answer to the latter question instantly made me their habibi (an endearing word for friend). My second weapon I had was the knowledge of Arabic music, which I played in the streets drawing crouds of thankful observers.
Perhaps the most uncomfortable moment came when I was in Hevron. My jewish friend and I left our Arab friends at a checkpoint inside the city to visit the jewish side of a Synagoge/Mosque in which Abraham, Jacob, and many other prophets are buried. Abraham is an especially holy figure for Muslims, second only to Mohamed. So the tomb was placed in the middle of the Synagogue/Mosque, which is divided by a metal barrier. Each side has two windows looking into the tomb, so that as I prayed I could see I could see Muslims on the other side also praying. This is as close to each other as the Jews and the Palestinians get within the walls of the West Bank.
The uncomfortable moment came when I tried to reenter the Muslim side of the city. With my friends standing just on the other side of the fence, the Israeli soldiers stopped us and asked if we were jewish. Without thinking I answered yes. With that, he said we could not reunite with our friends because it would mean certain death. They would pull a knife when I wasn't looking, or someone would certainly shoot us. After arguing for 10 minutes, with the soldier threatening to put us in jail, our friends across the fence signaled for us to walk to a different checkpoint, where we were able to pass. Our friends met us there and paid for our cab back to their home.
No one stabbed or shot me. What my friends did do was take me to an extravagant dinner to break the fast, then to a nargile (hookah) cafe, then to their friends house for dessert, then for a tour of his fathers plastic bag factory, and finally to his home to sleep. Again, I did not pay for a single thing.
What do I mean by fast? Well, basically the entire month of September was a Muslim holiday called Ramadan. I observed the last 9 days with my hosts, not eating, drinking anything or smoking from 4am to 7pm every day. The general point of which is to learn to be humble and thankful for the incredible gifts of this world. Each time the first sip of water went down my throat I felt my body restored, and I felt a supreme appreciation for life and a good health.
Anyhow, I could write ad nausium about this one week of my life. Hopefully someday I will have the time to. However, I leave tomorrow morning for India! Ironically, it was an incredibly frustrating two week delay in getting my Visa for India that made this trip possible. It has become impossibly evident to me that there are no coincidences, that everything happens just as it is supposed to, even if it is difficult to see at times.
So, I wish you all the best and I love you very much. Also, today is the Jewish new year so shana tova (happy new year) to you all. Next time time from India Insha'allah (God willing)!
Shalom v'ahava,
Lev
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