a verbal snapshot/recalling a sense of place

I am currently taking a writing course where we read about “fieldwork” and how to write about it…. thinking of Bethlehem this is what I came up with:

           Arousing me from sleep, I hear the beautiful melodic trill of an Imam’s Azan (the Muslim call to prayer). I hear the sounds that shape the word’s Allah Akhbar, meaning God the greatest. I roll over towards the window and partially open my eyes, which are still intent on sleep. Squinting, I see the darkness of the earliest hours of morning. I see the minaret on the hillside beyond which emits the sounds I hear. I roll back over and drift easily into sleep.

            When I wake again it is 9am and I am much more eager to greet the day. I shuffle from my bedroom to the kitchen where my host mother, Marina, greets me. In a scratchy and throaty voice she proclaims, “Sabah al-kheer, habibiti! Keefak?” (Good morning my love, how are you?). Her voice would be grating if it weren’t attached to a saintly woman. I reply to her in the dialect, “Good morning! I am good, thanks be to God (Alhamdulillah). And you?” Marina knows English. She also knows French, Spanish and Italian. Sometimes we speak in French, mostly in English, but I know that it pleases her when I speak Arabic, so I try my best. Next, she directs me towards the kitchen table. Each morning a place is set for me, and the table is replete with fresh and warm pita, homemade jellies, jams and cheeses to spread on it. Hospitality is a law of the land in Bethlehem and Marina’s home is no exception: each day I am greeted with love, food, fresh pressed juice and a cup of hot tea. Each morning I must relentlessly beg her before she lets me clear my plate or help with the dishes. Each morning we chitchat and tell each other our schedule for the day. She tells me that on this morning, she is going to the convent to give lessons and then will go to the market, inshaAllah. Almost every sentence or plan includes this phrase, inshaAllah. It means, if God wills. This is a common saying in many Arab lands. But this phrase is especially poignant for a Palestinian, whose plans are never certain because they can be so easily thwarted with checkpoints, unannounced military zones or searches. As I leave the house and begin my walk to work Marina calls to me, “See you later, habibiti!”

            I walk, each morning, from Marina’s home to my volunteer placement at the Students’ Forum Institute. It is about a twenty-minute walk that takes me through the main market place and up a great hill to a small office near Bethlehem University. In the summer months, the air is incredibly hot. No humidity. Just hot. The kind of hot that is quenched by a drink of fresh-lemonade and mint. The streets are crowded as people make their way to work. I pass many men, women and children. Here, little boys hold hands in friendship while they walk. Most women are dressed with hijab, some wear the niqab, and seldom does a women pass by wearing the complete covering of the burqa. Many women in Bethlehem do not wear a veil. They wear cross necklaces and considerably modest clothing. Men who own storefronts make smooching noises and tsking sounds at passersby, trying to gain a customer. Most men hold a cigarette; even the younger teenage boys do this too. On some corners there are men who sell Arabic Coffee (kahwa 3rabiya) in small plastic cups. Usually a few men hang around, drinking a cup of the heavily sweetened bitter drink.

            Walking through the main parts of the market, and even in more residential areas, political posters seem to be everywhere. There are posters depicting martyrs. There are posters of the late political leader Yassir Arafat beside posters of Abu Mazin, the current Palestinian Authority leader. And there are posters in memoriam of al-Nakba, meaning “the Catastrophe.” Political imagery, signs and speech are abundant on the streets, here. Politics are inherently a part of life in the West Bank. Everywhere are graffiti marks claiming, “to exist is to resist.” There is no ambiguity for anyone isn the West Bank as to what or who is being resisted.

As I make my way up the final hill to work, I see another sign. This one, however, is the name of a restaurant called “Friends.” The sign appears just as it does for the American television series of the same name. The door beside this restaurant belongs to the Students’ Forum, where I volunteer. Each day I enter and am greeted by my two co-workers, Hisham and Ali. The first ten minutes of work always commences with cups of Arabic coffee, heavily sweetened, and the morning’s news. Each day I struggle speaking to them, trying to practice as much Arabic as I can muster while they do the same in English. Only when our boss enters do we taken our last sips, say our final thoughts, straighten up and head to our tasks. 

thank you, america.

I often think about all of the ways america is fucked: terrible (yet not even remotely covered by the american media)  decisions by the Supreme Court which essentially strip away our due process rights; the fact that we have a sizable achievement gap closely correlated to race in this country; the fact that our government makes ill-advised foreign policies; the fact that an imbecile like Herman Cain, Rick Perry or Bachmann can run for Presidential nomination;  etc;etc;etc. 

Then, I recently have been writing my capstone thesis which looks at outcomes of the Arab Spring. I am specifically looking at certain determining aspects of regimes to explain divergent outcomes. One of these factors is looking at coercive state apparati. I recently read about censorship in Tunisia. It is next level. One newspaper began printing stories with large blanks indicating to the readers where the government had censored information. The government did not approve of letting the people know, so it confiscated all of the editions. 

Media is pretty fucked in America due to the fact that 5 corporations pretty much run the game and then those 5 companies also share stocks in one another. But when I look at the situation of our media comparatively, I realize that while these discrepancies are important, I can at least blog about what I want and not fear for my life. Tunisia was rated worst country in the world for bloggers’ safety. Can you imagine?

It’s definitely easy to see where and how this country is seriously and dangerously flawed. But it also becomes very evident how blessed and lucky I am as an American. I can think, write and express my sentiments without fear. So thank you, America. 

This one time at a bar…

I was talking to some kid at a bar the other night in a group setting where sports and hometowns became the topic of conversation. We realized that we came from the same area and chit chatted for a bit before going our seperate ways.

A few moments later, he came up to me while I was waiting at the bar to order a drink and aggressively stated, “I’m an Israeli citizen.” 

Clearly, someone had told this kid about my summer travels. And by his tone of voice he was not enthused. He proceeded to try and initiate some sort of debate/argument while standing in the middle of the bar. I politely declined to engage and told him we should talk about it some other time (which we won’t, since I don’t even know who this kid is). 

Again, I was just really confused. This is maybe the third or fourth time I have had people rashly approach me about my experiences. I don’t quite understand. I have yet to approach someone who I know is an Israeli supporter and try to instigate an argument about the atrocities of the occupation. In fact, I haven’t really shared with too many people what I witnessed or think about it. For the most part, I know it’s an emotional topic, so I pick and choose who I wish to discuss it with. 

I don’t know why I decided to share this. Perhaps, I’ve recently begun updating this blog again, and it feels nice to share what is going on. Either way, I just want to throw this out there: learn where and when it is appropriate to bring this subject up. And please don’t do it by picking a fight— if anything I am learning too. And I would much rather talk about it like a conversation than be verbally accosted when I’m simply trying to enjoy a drink at a bar. 

Gilad Shalit and over 1,000 Palestinians to be released

I am posting two news articles, the first discussing the release of Gilad Shalit from CNN

http://edition.cnn.com/2011/10/11/world/meast/israel-shalit-release/index.html?hpt=hp_t2

I am very happy to hear this news! Inhumane capture, torture and the failure to obey international laws and norms should never be accepted. That being said, and in the same vein, I am going to post another article by Time and a report by Save the Children (NGO), which will highlight some of the Palestinian children who have fallen subject to Israel’s prisons and military law, which will try any child from 16yrs onward as an adult. Many of these children have been taken to and inhumanely treated in Israeli jails. Much like Hamas would not reveal any information about Shalit or let anyone from the international community check his health, or even verify that he was alive, the whereabouts and charges against these Palestinian children are also often shrouded in secrecy (even to their own lawyers and parents) due to “security purposes.” This is an aspect of the conflict that is not often headline news. Clearly international laws are being broken from several directions- but the fact that martyrs are being made of children should be more visible. Just as Shalit has been a major focus of rhetoric and debate visible to the international arena, so should these children. 

http://www.time.com/time/world/article/0,8599,1906664,00.html

http://sca.savethechildren.se/Documents/Resources/Fact%20Sheet_oPt_detainees.pdf

I’m missing Palestine so…

Naturally I’m tying to reconnect to my experiences via my taste-buds. I woke up this morning and made some salata with cucumber, tomato, onion, garlic, olive oil, a splash of lemon juice, and most importantly, lots of fresh mint.

Now I’m making fresh lemonade with mint. Granted everything in my life is different from the heat in Palestine. Here, I have a beautiful ocean to relieve me from the heat. But when I was in Bethlehem we would get ice cold lemonade with mint almost daily to cool ourselves off.

(perhaps I’ll upload pictures when all is said and done)