Understanding the blame game

When in Safad, I looked at the people walking around. They were all Jews. One side of me, the emotional me, wanted to categorize them as evil-doers for living where my dad and his family should be living. Another side of me, realized that these people are not the ones to blame for the injustice that my dad and his family suffered. They might seem as the living representation of the people to be blamed, but, individually, I doubt that any of them would have wished upon anyone's suffering for them to be there.

I rationalized the situation, but my first instinct was to try to blame someone for it. This has made me understand how easily emotions like these could be manipulated to end up in violent acts. It is scary to think about it because it is so powerful.

Lately in the news, I have been reading about the back and forth between Israel and the Gaza Strip and I can only imagine what the Gazans are going through. If I felt what I felt coming from a situation of privilege, where I'm not deprived of anything, really, and I'm able to pursue my dreams, how would I feel if I was deprived and had nothing to hope for in the future? I'm not trying to justify violence, not at all, but I'm making an effort to understand it. On the other hand, you have the state of Israel trying to defend its own against violent acts, with more violence. I'm wondering what this back and forth will end up in...

Visiting Safad

I'm so fortunate that my mom is here visiting me. It's great to have her and show her what my life is like in Jerusalem. 

We rented a car for the weekend to be able to drive around and do some sightseeing. Yesterday, the plan was to drive to Safad, my father's birthplace. On the way there, we visited Nazareth, Tiberius and the Church of the Beatitudes. It was all beautiful, and the drive up north is spectacular. I was mostly surprised by how green and mountainous the area is. Anyways, I had been planning to go to Safad since I got to Jerusalem, but I wanted to take this trip with my mom because I was expecting it to be somewhat emotional.

We drove up, and I was getting more and more nervous as we were approaching Safad. I turned off the radio and wasn't really talking. I had this image of what Safad was going to be like, and I was about to find out what it really is like now. The whiny road finally took us up this hill on to Safad. It was gorgeous, but so strange. In Israel, all of the signs are in Hebrew, Arabic and English. In this town, signs were only in Hebrew and English- no Arabic at all. Driving around, it was as if we were in the wrong place because there was absolutely nothing there that would have identified this town as existing in any other way prior to 48. I got a bit emotional when seeing what the town was like because I did not picture it to be like that at all, and I think it made me sad. It made me sad because had I not known my father's story, how would I have known that anything existed there prior to 48? I wouldn't know. I think it made me sad and scared to think how easily it could be forgotten. 

We finally drove away from the old city and the residential areas, and we stopped in an open field. I stepped out of the car and picked up a few rocks and earth to take back to my dad. The field had some stones spread out, which I'm guessing were remains of where people like my dad's family lived before 48. That is what I took a picture of to show my dad- among other things, I think that's a more accurate picture of the Safad he was born in.

It was a pretty intense experience. I definitely haven't done a good job at explaining the feelings and emotions that I felt, but maybe when I learn to know what exactly they are, I'll do a better job.

My super sweet 16

I was at school the other day and Eddie, one of the kids I tutor, didn't come to school, so I spent that period in the computer room doing some research. I got hungry so I went to the little store close to school and bought myself a snack.

It was sunny out, so I decided to sit on the bench in the park nearby and eat my snack. A student from the school asked to sit next to me. I can't really remember which class she's in, but she was out there hanging out because her class went on a field trip. I asked her what she was doing at school if she had decided not to go on the field trip and she said she went to school because she loves the school.

We started talking trying to get to know one another, and she was asking me questions about myself and America. She wanted to know if I liked the US, or, like she put it "do you love America?" I told her I do. She then said, you know, I don't like America. I asked her why and she responded with another question "do you know MTV?" I responded affirmatively. She told me about the show called "my super sweet 16" and that she just doesn't understand why people would spend their money like that. She said there's so many people she could think of helping instead of having a party like that...and that's why she doesn't like America.

Conflict Resolution Day 1

Thursday was the first day of the Conflict Resolution training course for the 10th graders. I have been preparing for this course since I got the green light to work on it. I thought I was prepared walking into class this morning, but I definitely did not anticipate what was coming.

We started doing all the planned activities in class, and the kids were participating and they seemed to be engaged. I was trying to keep control of the class, so I didn't notice that one of the kids was being bothered by the kids around him. All of a sudden, he stood up and stormed out of the class. I asked Dorit- the educational counselor who's been working with him and his personal problems- to step out and make sure he was alright. When they both left, the class started to talk amongst themselves and instead of continuing on with the activity, I asked them to talk about what happened.

The students said they were wondering why he left the class, and I asked them to tell me why they thought he left (I hadn't seen anything happen among the kids, so I wasn't sure). One of the students said she thought maybe someone had said something that made him upset. Then, the guys sitting in close proximity to the kid that left almost started talking when Dorit came back into the class. As soon as she stepped in, the student who was going to say something stopped himself and someone else, trying to cover for him, started talking about the bomb the day before.

I took what started as a cover-up response, and started a conversation about the bomb, and we started relating the concepts that we had been talking about before to the real life situation. An Arab student said he was scared because he said that if he sits on a public bus, for example, and some Jews hear him speaking Arabic, they might hit him or insult him. I took that story and brought it back to stereotyping (a concept we were learning about) and its role in conflict. Someone else talked about how life is conflict...pretty intense stuff!

I was surprised that these ideas were brought up in class on the first day, but I'm really excited it happened. I see a great opportunity here to- if nothing else- create a safe environment so they can talk about how they see themselves in this conflict. I've somewhat discarded by first plan about these five weeks and I'm now adapting it to something that I think will be more relevant and suitable for these kids.

It is definitely different teaching about conflict resolution to kids that live in a conflict zone. I'm so excited about this new challenge and I hope I can make this a worthwhile learning experience for the kids.

What now?

Yesterday, a bomb exploded near the Jerusalem central bus station. It killed one person and injured 39 people. The result of such a bomb, however, goes well beyond the people that were physically affected by it. This is the first attack after seven years of relative peace in Jerusalem, and a lot of people were reminded yesterday of the violence of the second intifada. The Israeli PM declared after the attacks that there will be a response.

These declarations came the same day the Knesset passed two controversial laws about the Arab minority in the country. The first law relates to the day known as "nakba"(or the day of the catastrophe), which is celebrated the same day as Israel's independence. This day commemorates the people that died and the over 700,000 displaced people that resulted from the end of the first Arab-Israeli war in 1948-49. The new law will impose fines on towns and organizations that commemorate this day.

The second law approved the use of a sort of admission's committee for people that want to live in small "Jewish" towns in the Negev and Galilee. These committees will have to option of rejecting prospective residents, if they are found to not be suitable for the town. The law has been criticized as giving people the right to discriminate against the minorities in the country, mainly Arabs, but also secular families, Christians, gays or single women.

So what happens now? Two days ago, six Palestinians died in Gaza. Yesterday, a bomb went off in Jerusalem and these two controversial laws were passed. What will happen today?

Makes me wonder, in this climate of unrest and retaliation, how can we expect to negotiate a solution anytime soon?

Insert Clever Title.

Dear Miriam's Blog,

This is a celebrity shot. No, not Michael Boublu here; only the next best thing. Megan "Miriam's 100% American friend (boring!)" Larcom here. Ha, jokes. But really.

As a refugee-of-sorts (yes, as in a temporary migrated person, NOT a refugee-of-the-Palestinain-sort, i.e. a permanent migrated person) from the Pharoah's land, I've joined Miriam in the lovely contested lands of Palestine, Jerusalem, West Bank, Occupied Terrorities, etc. We've been having quite the week.

First, we met Gaddafi.

Then, we watched a live performance by Lady GaGa.

Oh, we also played pin-the-eyeball-on-the-clown with some 7-year-olds.

A few days, some hours of commuting and one very large concrete wall later, we arrived to Ramallah in the West Bank, to meet William, a baller Boren Fellow. After exploring the West Bank town-- casually passing the grave of Yasser Arafat and marveling at the originality of the town's central cafe, "Stars & Bucks"-- we proceeded to cook a feast from a collection of fresh, uber-cheap vegetables. Good thing an eclectic group of William's Palestinian friends showed up for dinner, because we prepared an eclectic meal. Nothing says "we da best chefs in town" like undercooked stuffed vegetables, some unsalted Egyptian stew, and unperfectly paired Indian carrot sweets with oddly flavored ice cream. Epic fail.

Leaving our culinary skills in Ramallah, we traveled to Bethlehem to visit a friend-of-Miriam's-friend (and the birthplace of Jesus, of course).

We painted some murals on The Wall. 

We serenaded each other with our miniature guitars in a bedouin tent.

Next up this week: scaling the Western Wall, building a clay model of the Dome of the Rock, and break-dancing outside of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Perhaps teaching some children in Hebrew and Arabic, finishing her master's research design, and leading a conflict resolution course, but only after writing the Egyptian constitution and dealing with the civil war in Libya.

Until we have more interesting stories, peace out,

Megan

(p.s. Miriam doesn't know the contents of this blog post yet but I'm 37% confident she will agree with the contents. regardless, I assure you she sends her greetings)

The talk of the village

After the wedding, everyone went back home to Arara, and I spent the weekend at Maram's again. It's awesome because I feel like her parents love me like they're own kid. I heart Mustapha and Nazek, I even call them mom and dad like Maram does (it started as a joke)- yaamaaah, yaabaah! But really, I feel like I'm a part of the family.

Just like the last time I was there, Maram and I did the rounds and visited her relatives. Of course, the talk of the village was the wedding. They talked about everything from the bride's dress, hair and makeup, to the guests, to the cost of it all (yes, everyone knew how much everything cost!). Also, Maram's brother was visiting from Italy, so he came to the wedding and we danced together. Some of the people who didn't know me thought I was Maram's brother's Italian fiancee- go figure. Anyways, everyone was talking about everyone else and their dresses, make up and dance moves. Yes, including people who didn't go- they also asked for all the scandalous details! (but there were none, at least, that I know of)

Oh! Gotta love small towns!