My truth is different from your truth

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I’m back at the hotel after our day with Uncle Shmulik and I hardly know where to begin. After getting caught in traffic and then horribly lost in Abu Ghosh, we finally connected about 10:30. Shmulik served in an Israeli administration that was invited in years ago when the village was nearly bankrupt. The Israeli government built roads and sewers, the kind of infrastructure projects that actually change people’s lives. Since he had worked in this village of 7 or 8,000 people for six years he knew almost everyone whose path we crossed. Our first stop was at a large, newly built mosque in the center of the town. Our guide was Jabar, a building inspector who had worked on the building for the 3-1/2 years it was under construction. While I knew that very Orthodox men don’t touch women outside their immediate family, I quickly learned that devote Muslims follow the same practice as he graciously rejected shaking my hand. Here’s the interesting story. The community had started construction of the mosque and was running low on funds. Then fortuitously, one of Shimon Peres’s children had an event in the town. In talking with the locals, Peres found out that the Muslims in the town were originally from Chechnya. The next time Peres was in Chechnya, he shared this information with the President and a connection was made. Very shortly thereafter, the government of Chechnya donated $300,000 to the project. Later, when the wife of the President of Chechnya visited the mosque and found it had only 2 minarets, another $100,000 was given to fund an additional 2 minarets. The marble came from Hebron and a lot of the woodwork trim was done in Turkey. The building stuck Jack & me as a harmonies melding of Byzantine and modern architecture. In order to enter the mosque, I was given an all-purpose covering. Not only did it cover my head, but my shoulders and arms. I’m sure this is for women who come in the summer with less than appropriately modest clothing. Jabar pointed out their security system that was installed after a small group of right-wing Israelis staged a demonstration at the mosque. As we were leaving just before noon prayers a bus full of women arrived. Their dress ranged from a full Burka to skin tight pants on a 20-something. From my vantage point skin tight pants aren’t what I’d call modest dress, but there was no bare skin so technically the rules were being followed

According to Uncle Shmulik, the restaurant business in Abu Ghosh is big business on Shabbat when Israeli flood this Arab village where everything is open. One of the more popular spots is the Lebanese restaurant where we had lunch of humus, pita and salads. The only tough part for me was the kitties that wandered around constantly crying for food. There are a lot of feral cats in this area and even though they look well fed it made me sad.

Now the day got really interesting. Driving around, you see how intertwined the Israeli and Palestinian residential neighborhoods are which underscores how difficult it will be to tease them apart. Simply saying, separate them is easier said than done. We visited a “settlement” on one of the highest peaks overlooking Jerusalem. This particular settlement, Gillo, has a commanding view of Jerusalem and it is obviously held for security reasons. Not only is there a large well established community, but adjacent army base. We then drove to the “Mount Everest” restaurant in East Jerusalem overlooking Bethlehem. I bought a small gift of a Christmas tree ornament for friends at home with reverse bargaining. The price tag said $7, but the storekeeper insisted on $5. I think this was due to Uncle Shmulik’s influence. An old friend of Shmulik’s, Najla, joined us for coffee. She is a Christian Palestinian who has lived in Bethlehem for most of her life. At one point, Jack asked her if she was the leader of the Palestinians, what sort of peace she would want. Her immediate, non-wavering answer was a “one state solution with the Israelis in charge.” She thinks the Israelis are tolerant of people of different religions and the Muslims aren’t. She told us that yesterday a young Christian woman who was dragged from her car, scalped, stabbed and had he throat cut because members of the Brotherhood in Egypt saw a crucifix in her car window. Najla says she wears a crucifix around her neck, as an act of defiance. On our next visit, she offered to take us into Bethlehem in her car with Palestinian plates. To drive into Bethlehem with Israeli plates is too dangerous.

The conversation wasn’t completely political. We heard the story of Abu George who was the person who introduced Shmulik with Najla and was a healer. You would tell him the name of the person who was ill or had a problem and their mother’s name. He would then go to sleep with a wet cloth over his face and the “cure” would come to him. Evidently, he cured Hilla’s father from cancer. When we meet Hilla, I’ll be very interested in her perspective.

Our next stop was the Rmallah crossing. All we could see was the line of trucks crossing back to the West Bank at the end of the work day and Palestinians boarding buses to go to Jerusalem. Shmulik took us right up to the crossing by negotiating with the soldiers who are 18 year old kids. Based in the prominent signage , it was very clear, that crossing into the West Bank in a car with Israeli plates was a non-starter.

After this we stopped to visit, a couple of Shmulik’s Muslim Palestinian friends at an East Jerusalem auto-body shop. The conversation was fairly stilted and limited because as much as Shmulik told us we could ask them anything, asking anything was too hard. After a few minutes another gentleman joined us. After introductions, he reached into his pocket and pulled about between $5,000 and $10,000 in hundred dollar bills and handed the stack over to one other the other men, who calmly counted it. According to Shmulik the Israeli Arabs live in an underground economy. They are somewhat second class citizens as are minority groups in the US and using cash avoids taxes which means they keep more of what they earn. When asked this small group of men, said their lives are no better than they were during the Second Intifada, which I find hard to believe. The new arrival then complained that the Israeli government we threatening to “destroy” his house. The background is that he pulled a construction permit for a house of X size and then built a house of X+Y size. Shmulik told us that anyone who does not build according to their building permit, runs into trouble with the government. After receiving multiple notifications, the homeowner goes to court and if the house doesn’t violate environmental and general building codes, you pay more real estate taxes and all is well. The same process would apply to any home build by an Israeli. Come to think of it the same thing is true in the US.

In every encounter everyone agreed that we all want peace. We all agree that if the people rather than the leaders were in charge peace would be easier to achieve. Through what is unsaid is that peace means is radically different for different people. Shmulik wants a 2 state solution, Najla wants a 1 state solution with everything run by the Jews and the men in the auto-body shop want something else. Shmulik is friends with both Christian and Muslim Israeli and Palestinian Arabs, but that does not mean there are good relationships between the communities. Israeli Arabs used to refer to themselves as “Israeli Arabs”, but since the Second Intifada, they refer to themselves as “Palestinians”. If you believe, as I do, that words matter the difference is obvious. The complexity that is invisible from the US becomes crystal clear when you are here.

We got back to the hotel in time relax for a few minutes and then walk to the restaurant recommended by our friends for another Treif meal. Polenta with lardons of bacon and calamari and a crab-tomato-cream bisque with Kabbah stuffed with seafood. Ironically, we bumped into our friend, Yoav, on the street which was pretty weird since I know him best in the context of home.

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Photos

Lunch at the Lebanese Restaurant
I love sitting outdoors after too much winter.