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!

Wedding Traditions

This weekend I was fortunate enough to have been invited to a wedding. Actually, both Maram and Mai invited me because they are related (not sure I mentioned this before), so they are both relatives of the bride and the groom. Usually, the only people that go to these weddings are close relatives, no friends of friends, but I was an exception because I'm "ajnabiye" (foreigner)- it's funny how depending on the situation I'm considered Arab or foreigner- The wedding, they said, wasn't very traditional, but I think they were referring to the celebration part of the wedding because there were still many events that day that most certainly followed tradition.

On Thursday after school, Maram, Mai and I drove up to Arara in Mai's car. Just as we arrived, we went straight to the bride's family's house to partake in the first part of the tradition: the bride leaving her parent's house, or, as they say, her father's house. The bride's closest family gathered in the bride's father's house and, of course, there was food, coffee, tea, sweets, and all sorts of snacks involved. Although it wasn't a full on meal, everyone that came to the house was offered something to eat (it would be rude otherwise). When everyone was arriving at the bride's family's house, the bride and the groom were taking their wedding pictures in a scenic part of the country. They chose Ceasaria, and they were very lucky because it was a gorgeous day. From what I've been told, tradition varies, and sometimes the photo shoot happens after the bride officially leaves her father's house.

At 3pm- they said, but turned out to be more like 3.45pm- the bride arrived at the house and the women started singing traditional songs. I'm not sure if this is how it always happens, but the women and the men were in two different rooms. There was a cameraman and a photographer taking pictures and recording of this whole event. The bride then waited for the groom and his family to come over and take her to her new house.

Finally the groom and his family showed up with drums singing songs, and then everyone was united in the singing (bride and groom's family). The groom, then, talked to the bride's father to ask (once again) if he could take his daughter. Then the groom's parents welcomed the bride into the family and they took her. As she was leaving her house, the bride cried- when Maram was explaining this tradition to me she literally said "the bride must cry". I asked her if she had to and Maram said it wasn't mandatory, but it always just happens like that. I wonder if there's ever been a bride that didn't cry and if anything happened to her...Anyways, our bride did cry, but not a ton. Maram's comment was that she was trying not to, but she couldn't hold her tears back, so only a couple of tears were shed.

After they take the bride to her new family's home, there is a ritual with henna, but I'm not really sure of what it is; they put it on a leaf or something- I can't really remember because I didn't see that part of it.

After all the singing and clapping and pictures and tears, everyone in the family goes home and gets ready for the celebration. In this case, the celebration took place in Nazareth, so we all drove up there at night. At the celebration, there was tons of dancing and food and yet another tradition: dancing with the candles. The bride held two candles and danced with them lit, then gave one to the groom and they danced and took pictures. When this was happening they first had a guy with a saxophone playing- ps. took me the longest time to figure out what people were trying to tell me when they were talking about the saxophone, because the way they pronounce it sounds like "sexy phone" so I really had no idea of what to expect...-The saxophone part was not traditional, but then they sang the typical song for the candle dance. At this wedding, they also dimmed the lights, had fake snow, smoke on the ground and fire stands all around the bride- quite the show!

The dancing and eating continued for a bit and then we all went home. It was super fun :)

What does it mean to be Palestinian?

Maram, Mai and I were talking last night after dinner. They were asking me about my experience with people here; if people were nice to me etc. I said, so far, everyone's been really nice to me, especially Arabs when they find out that I'm half Palestinian. Mai then asked me what I felt, in terms of my identity. As she was asking me if I felt Palestinian, or Arab, or American, or Spanish, she stopped for a second to reflect on the question she was asking me. She turned to Maram and asked "what does being Palestinian mean exactly?". 

Maram responded Palestinians are the Arabs who were born in the country. Mai then asked, "what country? there is no country! The only country that really exists is Israel. We are Israeli, then, right?". They both have Israeli citizenship, but say they're not treated like their Jewish counterparts, so they both agreed they wouldn't identify as Israeli- at least not without characterizing what type of Israeli citizens they are: Arab-Israeli.

Then the discussion went back to analyzing what the term Palestinian means. Mai was saying she didn't really understand what it means to be Palestinian, since it seems to be a term that defines nationality. She was struggling trying to figure out if there's ever really been a Palestinian nation. She said, maybe just the people born before 48, or the people born in the West Bank and Gaza are Palestinians. Maram quickly responded, "we are all Palestinians, Mai!". Maram added "If a state was created tomorrow, wouldn't you feel that you should be a part of it?" Mai responded affirmatively, but the conversation still carried on with no real resolution.

It's very interesting that this topic came up last night, because when talking to people in Arabic, sometimes they refer to themselves as Palestinian sometimes as Arab; sometimes they talk about Israel, sometimes they talk about Palestine. The nature of identity is so complicated...what are we, really? who are we?

The Milk!!

Sharing the house with my roommates is a different living situation than I'm used to. More than roommates, it's like we're a family, so we all share the responsibilities- you don't just clean your own dishes or cook just for yourself, but whenever you do one of these tasks, you do it for everyone. Because of this, we try to rotate, so that it's not always the same person doing the dishes or cooking for the rest of the house. For some of the tasks, like taking out the trash or buying milk, I recently found out that we take turns. If the person who's turn it is doesn't do whatever needs to be done when it needs to be done, someone else will do it for them. Two of my roommates, especially, try to avoid confrontation at all cost, so they would rather do it themselves than have to tell you to do it. I'm trying really hard to keep track of when it's my turn, and also doing just do it whatever needs to be done for the house so it's fair for everyone.

When I moved in, I was first a guest in the house, so my roommates wanted to do everything for me. I also got sick right at the beginning, so not only was I treated like a guest, but they were also taking care of me. Since I also live in the house, I want to take a part in the responsibilities of the household and show my roommates that I, too, can be a good housewife. Little by little, beginning when I started to feel better they started letting me do more things- doing the dishes, participating in the Wednesday cleaning day "party", etc.

Every morning, before we go to school, we either drink tea or milk (or Nescafe)- by the way, there's two types of coffee, Arab coffee(pretty strong), which is what they call coffee, and instant coffee that they mix with hot milk, which they call Nescafe. It is usually the person that gets up earliest that prepares tea, milk or Nescafe- boiling water or milk- for whoever else is awake.

Most of the days, it is someone else that prepares the morning beverage, so I wanted to contribute to the house in the morning and prepare the milk for someone else. It was also my turn to buy the milk, but it seemed like there was enough for me and Maram (the only ones who were at the house that day- Mai left earlier and Areej had spent the night at her sister's), which meant I didn't have to necessarily go out and buy milk in the morning, but I could wait until after school.

I woke up a little earlier to check on the milk situation and see how much there was left. There was just enough milk for the both of us, so I put it on the stove and waited for it to be hot. I started doing other things and kind of forgot about the milk. I was getting my jacket from my room, when I heard the milk boiling and overflowing...oops! I still served it on both of our cups, thinking I had just made a mess, but when I poured all the milk, I looked at the bottom of the sauce pan-type instrument I was using and it was all black...great! I burnt the milk! I was mortified; I had finally started trying to participate more in household activities and I failed!! I thought my good-housewife skills would be under scrutiny if my roommies found out, so I tried to do everything I could so no one would ever know I burnt the milk.

I cleaned up the mess, put the pot in hot water and I left the house running to the little store close by to buy some milk. I came back, put the milk on the stove while at the same time scrubbing the other pot trying to clean it off. I don't know if you've ever burnt milk, but it's SUPER difficult to clean. I was scrubbing like there's no tomorrow, as fast as I could before Maram finished getting ready. Thankfully, she took longer than usual, so I had a little extra time to scrub a little extra hard, but it wasn't working. I put a ton of the super strong cleaning product, soap...nothing. It wasn't coming off. Finally, Maram was done getting ready and asked what was taking so long. I had to confess. She was pretty understanding, but I was embarrassed.

She told me to leave it, that we'd take care of it after school- but that meant the other roommates would see it and know about my milk burning incident. The worst scenario I was envisioning would have been to come home and find that Mai (who usually gets home earlier than us) scrubbed the whole thing for me. Then, not only would I have been the incompetent one that burnt the milk, but also the incompetent one that couldn't clean it...Fortunately enough, we came back home and Mai wasn't there yet- the pot was there, just like I had left it.

Areej was preparing lunch, and meanwhile, I continued scrubbing the pot. She asked why I was cleaning it so much, so I had to tell her. She said we had something that would make scrubbing easier and not to worry about it.

After three different times trying to scrub the burnt milk off the pot, I finally got it off. I learnt my lesson to pay attention to the milk, and hopefully my housewife reputation wasn't affected too much by this incident.

Beit Safafa

Yesterday, I learned that Beit Safafa, where I live, used to be two different villages and it became one in 1967. There's two parts to Beit Safafa: the '48 part and the '67 part. One of them used to be a part of the West Bank, but after the '67 war both parts were reunited under Israel. It is still an Arab neighborhood, though. It is mostly Israeli Arabs that live here- most of them come from Northern villages (just like my roommates) to study and work because there are no jobs where they live. From my experience, together with people's reactions when I tell them where I live, I think it's a pretty nice and reputable place to live (if you're Arab).

There are, however, some problems due to the fact that it is an Arab village. Don't freak out! It's a safe place and the houses here are great, but the infrastructure of the neighborhood is pretty bad. First, the streets have no names or numbers, so the mail doesn't get to this part of town. Also, some of the roads are paved, others not so much, and others are just dirt roads. 

Another thing about living here is that the Israeli bus system does not pass through this neighborhood- the closest stop is at about a 20 minute walk from my house, right outside of Beit Safafa. To try to make up for the lack of service provided in this area, there is a mini-bus that takes people from these not-so-well-communicated areas to the rest of Jerusalem. The bus costs less than the Israeli bus, but it doesn't pass by that often. It makes being independent (in terms of transportation) a real challenge.

I love living in Beit Safafa, but sometimes it can be a pain. 

Living La Vida Arabe

This post is dedicated to Nadgey (my sister), who suggested this title for one of my blog entries after I told her what I was doing that day...

As you know, I live with three lovely Arab Muslim women. They are pretty conservative, and just typical Arab women. They are also single, but preparing for their future married lives (in shah Allah- God willing). As future wifeys they perform all the duties a good wife has to do; mainly cooking and cleaning.

On the cooking subject, I will say that every day we cook and eat together, at least one meal. We have a pretty different eating schedule, though, and I'm still getting used to it. Every morning, when we wake up whoever's in the kitchen first (meaning, whoever it takes less time to wake up that morning) makes tea/coffee for the rest of the house. Then, before leaving for school, we try to have the dishes from breakfast washed (that's how clean we are).

After school, at about 3.30-4pm, when we are all back home, we start preparing lunch- my roommies are teaching me all of these great recipes, so I'm becoming an expert in Middle Eastern cuisine :). Anyways, when lunch is ready, we all sit together and have our big meal. I've learned that, even at my house, I need to serve myself twice- that's just how it is- so I now know to not serve as much the first time (I'm gaining so much weight!). After lunch, it's as though there is a race to see who can get up and do the dishes faster...they need to be done right away, though. It's great!

Besides doing the dishes right away, let me tell you about the cleaning products we use. One of the first days I was washing dishes, I noticed two bottles of soap; one had the regular green dish-washing soap in it (like Dawn or Fairy) and the other one is filled with a clear-yellowish liquid. I asked which one I should use and they said a little bit of both; the green one to clean and the yellowish one for the smell. Guess what the yellowish liquid is? I'm not entirely sure because I can't read or understand Hebrew, but I'm pretty sure it's some sort of bleach-based product. Also, we don't use gloves, so I need to invest on a good hand lotion.

Wednesdays in the house is cleaning day. We all have our jobs, so every Wednesday, we each take care of our part. I think they think I don't know how to clean because they gave me the easiest part...haha! I haven't understood if our duties rotate or if they always stay the same, but I hope they rotate because otherwise, it's not really fair.

Anyways, also on the topic of cleaning, let me tell you about the laundry situation in my house. There is a washing machine, but it's not what you would expect. It is semi-automatic, meaning, you have to manually start every cycle of the cleaning process. You put the clothes in the machine and fill it up with water and detergent; rotate the wheel to begin cycle and when it's done, you turn a different wheel to drain the water. You repeat the process for the fabric softener. Then you put the clothes on a different section of the machine for the spin cycle. Of course, there's no dryer here so we just hang the clothes. It's all a process!

This is pretty much all I do when I'm at home: eat and clean all while practicing my Arabic...Yesterday, Thursday, was the beginning of the weekend and all me and Areej did was go to the store to get her phone fixed, go grocery shopping, we cooked dinner and made a cheese cake from scratch. This morning, I woke up wanted to do some work, but ended up taking most of the morning doing laundry and reorganizing my drawers and other stuff like that. Oh yes, indeed, I lead an exciting life!

As you can see, I'm getting trained to be a good wife- learning to cook and clean way more and better than I did before...and some of you thought I was already a total mom!

Mediation Training

On Wednesday, after my tough day subbing for the first grade teacher at school, I went to the office to meet with Inas. The previous week I had been working on the "conflict resolution" project Inas told me she wanted me to develop.

I did some research and came across peer mediation programs. I thought it would be a good idea for the school, so I wrote a report about it, including a description of the program and the steps needed to implement it. I made a list of the resources necessary; I wrote about the materials I would need to buy, and the possibility of establishing a partnership with another organization in order to have them come in and offer the training. I even found a way to fund all of this! I won't bore you by going into detail, but I'll just say I did extensive research on the subject.

I came in on Wednesday knowing that if I had Inas' blessing, I could move forward with the project and get it going. I presented the project to her, but she wasn't thrilled. She told me the idea was good, but there were a few problems. She said she wanted me to develop the materials because she didn't want people from the outside coming in and giving the training- she said she wanted the project to be from Hand in Hand for Hand in Hand. The second and most important concern she raised was the issue of time. She said high school students (my first choice, in terms of who should receive the training, for various reasons) have too much on their plate given they have to prepare for their final test (kind of like the Israeli SAT). She said she doubted they could find any time for them to be trained...She suggested implementing the program at a younger age.

I'm not going to lie, I was pretty disappointed with how the meeting went, but I already had a meeting scheduled the next day with the educational counselor, Dorit, and the principal of the high school, Raeif. Earlier that week, I had talked to Dorit and told her about the project. She was very excited and looking forward to hearing what Inas had to say. When I came in on Wednesday, I met with her before meeting with Raeif, and told her about what Inas said. She told me before we took the high school students off the project, we should first meet with their teachers and explore if it is actually something they see value in. I agreed with her.

She contacted Raeif to see if we could still meet and asked if I could present my proposal to the high school teachers. In about five minutes, everyone was in the principal's office and I was asked to present. Just like that. I hadn't prepared a formal presentation, but I believe in my project, so I stood up in front of the teachers and explained my proposal. Everyone in the room loved my presentation, and after a few questions, they started talking about the number of hours they could give me, etc. Absolute success.

Inas wasn't in that meeting, so I still needed to handle the situation delicately; I didn't want her to feel as though our conversation didn't matter, but knowing that the high school wants the program should make a difference. I told her about the result of our meeting, and suggested that I develop new materials, as she asked, but that I do it from already existing materials. Therefore, this semester could be the pilot program that would help me build the materials for the future (I will be writing a mediation handbook at the end of the semester). I also asked her about the possibility of having a budget to purchase materials that may be useful to building the curriculum.

Here is what she responded:

Mariam

Sounds great. I am very impressed that you took the initiative and proposed the project. Which grades will be involved in this program? Which teachers? If you got their approval, then I certainly think you can start with the class and I agree with you. You can start with any materials you get hold of. I will bring you what I have and I am sure you can find more.

Regarding the costs of purchasing manuals or books, you may make a list of the materials you need and I can check the budget for such purposes. I don't think it will a problem.

You may start any time you are ready. 

best

Inas

How awesome is that?! I'm super stoked (as my friend Dave would say)!! Now, I really gotta get to work, but I couldn't be happier :)

To be Fair

Television can teach one so many things...

One of my roommates in San Diego loved to record all of these shows on tv. There were some that I watched as well, but sometimes I would watch some of the ones she had recorded for herself. Once, I watched the Tyra show (ok, maybe more than once...) and in the show there were these women who gave testimonies of the highly toxic products they put on their skin (and sometimes even their children's skin) to make it look fairer. They said they thought fair skin was so much more beautiful. 

After watching the show I became more aware of the issue of race and started paying closer attention especially to the media. One does realize that it is mostly white people that are on television, and that white is portrayed as better most of the times. 

When I moved in to my home in Jerusalem, I got sick, so for a few days I stayed home and I watched a ton of television. This ad caught my attention. It's for a face lotion called "Fair and Lovely". It's supposed to help with dark spots or something, but the before and after picture shows a brownish woman at first and a white woman in the after picture (and without the dark spots). The ad is in Arabic and I don't really understand the vocab relating to dark spots or pimples, but I thought it might just be a tactic to get people to buy that cream.

Last weekend, when I went to my roommate's village, we went to visit one of her numerous aunts. She's, I think, one of the most beautiful women I've seen in my life. I told Maram (my roommate), and she said she agreed with me. She said "even though she's dark, she's beautiful". I was shocked by her comment and said "what? did you say even though she's dark?". She then proceeded to tell me that fair skin is preferred in the Arab society, and that fair-skinned women are considered more beautiful. I was surprised she answered like that. What was more surprising was that she said it in front of her aunt, who agreed with Maram's statement.

Today, I was watching tv with my roommate Areej as we ate dinner, and that same "Fair and Lovely" ad came on. I decided to ask her about it. She said the same thing, and even added that from her sisters, it was easier for the ones with fairer skin to get married.

I guess the media's message that white is better has had an impact all over the world...unfortunately

Wednesdays

In my original schedule, I had planned to go into the office (not school) on Wednesdays and Sundays. The other day, however, Nadia (one of the principals) asked me to come in for a couple of hours on Wednesdays because they REALLY need my help at the school, she said. She asked that I come from 10am to 12pm, which is right in the middle of the day. I was thinking to go to school in the mornings with my roommies and after 12pm go to the office to spend the rest of my work day. 

Yesterday was my first Wednesday on the new plan, but I wanted to try it out before I actually commit to spitting my Wednesdays into half school and half office days- it's pretty sweet that I have the flexibility to make decisions about my schedule like that. I went to school and did some work at the teacher's lounge until 9.45am (first two class periods) and then there's a half an hour break, when, usually, teachers eat a morning snack, and the side of the room with the tea and coffee gets super crowded!

A little bit before break yesterday, though, a bunch of teachers, and other staff came in the teacher's lounge and started uncovering huge bowls of food and preparing some salad. At 9.45am, as soon as the bell rang to indicate end of first two class periods, the feast began. I had seen tons of food one of the days the previous week (couldn't remember when) but I thought it was because it was someone's birthday or something. Well, as it turns out, every Wednesday at school there's food! The Elementary and Junior High have a staff meeting, and the teachers agreed that they'd take turns and, each week, the teachers from one of the grades bring food. Pretty neat, don't you think?

I was starting to really like the fact that I was going to be at school  on Wednesdays and then, they told me to go talk to Dafna. This is the teacher, I was told, REALLY needed my help- she's super nice, I actually really like her. Well, there's a new volunteer from the US at the school. His name is Brandon. They got him to do it, so I didn't really need to be there. 

Of course, there's always something to be done, and they had a little crisis that they hoped I could resolve. They took me to a first grade class. The teacher wasn't there that day, so...yes, I had to sub...again. To tell you the truth, I was NOT excited about this, given my previous experience. Subbing with the teenagers was difficult, but the first graders were about to show me, it's not easy with them either as I faced an additional challenge: language. These children are six and they "only" speak Hebrew and Arabic, which means, no English. 

The principal took me to the class, and explained to the kids what they needed to do- gave them some papers and told them to each to their work. As a side note, I found it very interesting that some of the kids got the worksheet in Hebrew and some in Arabic. I was trying to figure out if each of the kids was getting it in their mother tongue (since they're in the first grade) or in their second language- I think they were getting it in their first language, but this is me totally judging from what the children looked like and in what language the worksheet they were getting was. 

Anyways, as soon as the principal left, they all sat quietly and did their work. Just as it did with the seventh graders, this lasted for about 10 minutes- great! I still had to be there for another hour and twenty...If I had learnt anything subbing at the other classes, it was that you need to impose the rules right in the beginning, or else, it's over. I stood up and started speaking English to the kids.  It was a good attempt, but after the first sentence and seeing the children's blank faces, I realized I wasn't going to get very far.

I switched to "Arabic"; told them my name and that they needed to be seated and do their work. I tried to do this with a serious face and authoritative tone of voice, and wanted to make sure whatever I said in Arabic, I said without making a mistake (how horrible would it be to have all of those six-year-olds laughing at me...). 

After my two or three sentences, with which I wanted to establish my authority, one of the kids raised her hand and said: "My name is Juliana" (in Arabic) and smiled. With all the seriousness and being so focused, Juliana caught me totally off guard and after a second of not knowing what to say, I just smiled. When they saw me smile, every kid in the class started shouting their name...with the noise and chaos, they started standing up, and moving around...well, that didn't go as planned! 

So, plan B: Become a police woman. 

After a few minutes, I kind of got control over the class, but this only happened after I confiscated two kids' card collections and started giving warnings. It worked for a while, but as soon as the kids started finishing what they were doing, they started talking and getting up- I understand why they were doing it, but I didn't really come prepared to do anything with them. I tried to get them to be quiet so I could teach them a song, but they were too tired and out of control. 

About 15minutes before the end of the class period, the principal told me the kids could go to the playground. I let them go, and then my job was to watch them. I thought I had dealt with the toughest part of the class, when after two minutes these two kids came up to me. One of them started telling me that this other kid had insulted her (well, her mom, actually) and they said the insult in Arabic. I was shocked. I told them to go look for the kid who had insulted her, and then I told him to apologize to her. Then another girl came up to me and told me the other one had pulled her hair. I looked at the alleged hair-puller and she started whining. I couldn't really understand what she was saying, so I asked her in a firm voice: what happened? did you pull her hair? And she stopped talking, looked at me with a guilty face and then her eyes started to water...yes, she started crying. I told her to stop crying and apologize to her...little kids!

By the time class was over, I was exhausted. I told the kids I was leaving, and then a couple of them came running to me and gave me a hug. Not gonna lie, that totally made up for the previous two hours of hell.

Now, I have to decide what to do on Wednesdays: awesome food and the dreadful possibility of subbing or work at the office? I'll keep you posted!

Torn between two worlds

To Jewish people, I look Jewish; to Arabs, I look Arab. This has enabled me to experience both cultures- something not everyone is able to do. I've already talked some about the different treatment both offer to one another, but I feel like I've gotten the best of both worlds so far. With a few minor exceptions, I've been able to mold to both cultures and I consider that I'm in a very privileged situation. But I also feel like I'm not getting the full story on either side.

So far, I've noticed, that one could visit Israel without even noticing the very present Arab component of its citizens- they all speak Hebrew and English (in addition to Arabic), and you can't really tell them apart- at least I can't (but I've been told otherwise). The key to being able to tap into this, almost underground, culture is the language. That's the starting point, but in order to have full access, I think you need more than just that- I have the advantage of my roots being traced back to this part of the world; I'm not sure if that's the reason why people are more open with me, or if they would be just as open if I wasn't. 

At the same time, I've been really fortunate to encounter very open members of the Jewish community, like Aryeh, that have invited me to experience different aspects of the Jewish culture. Like you can probably tell from what I've been writing, I wasn't familiar at all with this culture, which I have found to be beautiful and very rich. Honestly, this has come as a shock to me, knowing that so many people have suffered as a result of the creation of the state of Israel. Now that I've been able to get to know the Jewish culture, though, I realize that its destruction, which was approaching quickly at the time when the Israeli state was created, would have been a terrible loss for humanity.

I'm a proponent of each individual being able to express themselves and their beliefs freely- as long as those beliefs are not detrimental or destructive of the human race. I'm fortunate enough to be experiencing the best part of both cultures and I think they both should be celebrated, but not at the sake of the other. Therefore, I'm torn; on one hand I feel that being able to experience the Jewish part of society is such a blessing, but on the other hand, knowing that my father and other Palestinians have struggled and continue to struggle to be who they are, makes me almost feel guilty for understanding the existence of Israel.

I'm starting to have deeper conversations with members of both groups, and I'm coming across very varying opinions on the subject. This is how I feel so far, and as my conversations and experiences evolve, I will be writing more about it, but these are some of my initial thoughts.

This weekend's visits

This weekend, I traveled up north with Maram. She knew I had only visited Jerusalem, so she wanted to make sure I also visited other cities close to Arara.

On Friday, Hannan, Maram's best friend, offered to drive us around to visit different cities during the day. Our first stop was Barta. Barta is a very interesting place. It is a city divided into two; one part of it is in Israel and the other one is on the Palestinian territories, but there is no check point (that's why we went). The citizens of both sides are part of the same family, but some of them are Israeli citizens, the others are not. If the citizens of the Arab part are caught in the Israeli side they face fines and they might even go to jail if they don't have the necessary documents. Hannan and Maram were telling me that even though it is so close by, because that part of Barta is actually considered the West Bank, they have the price level of the Palestinian territories, which is significantly cheaper. This is why, many people go to Berta (from Israel) to buy stuff.

The contrast between the Palestinian and Israeli territory is striking. It was like crossing over to a whole new world...it's difficult to describe, and unfortunately I didn't take any pictures. When we were in the Palestinian side, Hannan asked if I owned a Kufiya (the typical Palestinian scarf), I told her I didn't. Almost immediately, she stopped the car and went to a store to buy me one, while I waited in the car. She told me "now you're a true Palestinian".

After visiting Barta, we went to Ceasaria (pronounced Qisariya). It is a town located on the Mediterranean coast. It's historically significant because of it's location, and there are Roman ruins there now. It is a beautiful place, and we were lucky enough to have an incredible sunny day in the midst of these rainy past couple of weeks.

After Caesaria, we went back home, where we met Maram's parents. Mustapha, Maram's father, is a taxi driver, and he drove us all to Haifa to spend the afternoon. We went to the Beha'i gardens and to check out the temple. The Beha'i World Center consists of a set of gardens on a mountain with stair cases leading up to the Shrine of the Bab- the second holiest place in the Beha'i faith (after the Shrine of the Beha'ullah in Acre). Unfortunately, they're remodeling the dome, so I didn't see the Beha'i World Center in its full splendor. Still, it is a pretty incredible site. We got out of the car and walked around.  The guards on the bottom part were Arab, so Mustapha started explaining my story to him. They were all thrilled to have me, so they let us in (even though it was very close to 5pm- closing time). Some of the gates were closed, so we couldn't go up all the stairs to the dome. We then decided to drive up to the top of the mountain and make our way down, but by the time we got there, it was past five.

Mustapha tried to talk to the guard in Arabic, and he responded by saying, only English. Mustapha asked if we could go in, he said "No". Maram's father then tried to explain that I was visiting and it really meant a lot if he would let us go in. He refused to let us in. Another group of tourists came after us and were also talking to the guard. Because we weren't allowed in, we walked around, and started taking pictures on the other side of the gate. When we looked, we saw that the guard let the other tourists in. Nazek, Maram's mom, told me it was probably because she's wearing a headscarf, so they know she's Arab, that we weren't allowed in. It's impossible to know what the real reasons behind his decision were, but it's interesting that they automatically assumed that the fact that she's Arab is why- probably because it usually is.

After visiting the Beha'i site, we drove around a little bit more, and the sun started to set. We went to the University and saw the incredible view from there. We then went to dinner at a great restaurant with a view of the whole city- this time, at night, with all the lights. Haifa is just a gorgeous city, by day and at night. It is also a place where Muslims, Christians and Jews live side by side :)

After a delicious meal, we drove back. The day was filled with great trips and I learned so much!

The usual conversation in Arabic

I've noticed that there are certain questions that always come up in conversation when I speak Arabic to people. In the beginning, I thought it was just men that asked these questions, but I've realized it is a very cultural thing to do. I realized this weekend that this was the case, when men, women, and even a young little girl asked me these questions. Here's how conversations usually go:

One of the first questions after I start speaking Arabic is always: where are you from? well, in my case, that's a conversation in and of itself, but once they find out I'm half Palestinian, they ask me where exactly, and about my family name. It's interesting because every person I've talked to claims they know a relative of mine; some tell me they know of a religious leader in Lebanon that's a relative of mine, others tell me a political activist for the Palestinian cause, others a distant relative in Egypt...after seeing how huge Maram's family is, I don't doubt all of the above are true!

Well, once they know about my family tree and my traveling experiences, most (if not all) establish that I'm Palestinian. It is then that the more interesting questions start to come up, mostly trying to find out about my marital status. It usually starts by people asking my age- yes, here they ask you, no problem. After knowing I'm 24, the more direct ask if I'm married. If they're trying to be "discrete" about it they ask me who I'm here with; my parents, my husband? When they find out I'm not married, the religion question is usually the next to come up. I tell them I'm Christian. Some people are ok with it, but I've also had some interesting responses to my religious views. My favorite was when a taxi driver asked me if I would convert to Islam if a prospective husband asked me to- yes, he was talking about himself (being the prospective husband)...

I guess because marriage is such an important part of one's life here, that's what most conversations are about. It's interesting, too, because, not only your religion, but your ethnicity is really important here. I'm pretty sure, that if I wasn't considered Arab, I wouldn't be asked about my marital status or even get marriage proposals (by fellow Arabs, that is). I was also talking to Aryeh the other day, and although he's not religious and doesn't care, he mentioned that if he gets married, he would only marry a Jewish woman, because of his mom.

Everyone has the so-called "deal breakers" those traits in a person that have to be present or absent, in order for that person to the be "the one". I think more so here than anywhere else, maintaining ethnic purity is imperative.

The Culinary Experience

This weekend I got to experience what small town life is like in an Arab village in Israel. It's like any other small town, really, including the central role of food.

Upon our arrival, Maram's parents greeted us with one of my absolute favorite meals, Maqlube (or Ma'lube, depends on the dialect). Earlier that week, I had told Maram my mom knew how to make Arab dishes and Maqlube was one of my faves, so she had her mom prepare it for me- so sweet. Maqlube, by the way, means "upside down" and is a rice-based dish with vegetables and meat all cooked together in a pot. When served, the casserole is inverted, thereby earning its name. The ingredients vary from family to family, but Nazek's Maqlube had chicken, eggplant, tomatoes and cauliflower- delish!

I was really hungry, so I was happy when I got a generous serving of my favorite meal! When I was almost done, and almost full to the max, Nazek made Maram serve me yet another plate-full of Maqlube. This was like flashing back to meals with my Arab side of the family...I should have known better!- The rule is: always ask for a third of what you really want to eat. I think I ate half the casserole myself. I was SO full...

Then we went to visit Maram's grandmother- lovely lady. As soon as we arrived to her house, she offered me fruit and juice. I was able to escape eating anymore, but I drank a little bit of juice. I thought I was going to explode. We arrived back at home only to be welcomed by Maram's mom with tea and some cake.

The next morning, we ate a "light" breakfast consisting of bread, laban (like the middle step between plain yogurt and cheese, I guess would be a way of describing it), olives, scrambled eggs, tomatoes, cucumbers, and tea. Only to be followed by some real Arab coffee- it's really strong; like an espresso.

After sightseeing all day with Maram and her best friend Hannan (I'll talk about that in another post), we arrived home and we went to Haifa with Maram's parents and then out to dinner. They took me to a super nice restaurant with amazing views, and we had a very nice an copious meal- it started out with traditional salads and appetizers (fetoush, tabouleh, hummus, babaghanouj, tahine, among others..) and then we had some seafood. They went all out because they wanted me to have the best possible experience.

The next day, we spent it going from house to house visiting all of Maram's relatives and eating at each and every single one of their houses. They're all neighbors, and there's a lot of them, so we kind of did the rounds. I drank tons of tea, coffee and juice, and tasted all sorts of pastries, fruits, and nuts...After a morning of going around people's houses, we went back home and Maram offered me to rest a little, but I offered to help Nazek cook instead. After having had her food, I knew if anyone can teach me real Arab cuisine it is her.

She was stoked that I offered to help and the started telling me recipes for all these different dishes. I learnt some words in Arabic as well, so that was pretty cool. Maram and her mom couldn't believe I offered to help.  After stuffing some vegetables, her mom started getting everything ready for dinner, which was something different than what we'd been working on. For dinner that night we had an incredible bbq- Nazek grilled kefta (mixed ground beef and lamb with parsley and onion), chicken, lamb kebabs, and beef...a ton of meat! Well, guess who ate most of it?! It was all delicious, but definitely more than I needed to eat. This huge meal also included side dishes of different salads, hummus (of course), and bread among others. Mind you, this is what I ate after having had something to eat at everyone of the houses I had visited that day...too much!

Before going to bed, of course, we had some tea and pastries...I've definitely already put on a few pounds!

This morning, before we left, Nazek got up even earlier than us (at 6am) to make us breakfast- bless her heart. Not only did she make us coffee and gave us some pastries to go with it (you know, you can't just drink coffee...), but she also started preparing bags of stuff for us to take home with us; she gave us fruits and vegetables from their garden, dried Louisa leaves to put in the tea (she knows I like them), cake, the vegetables we prepared the day before, and some other stuff...we're set for the week!

It's been an amazing culinary experience, but I most definitely need to join a gym, if I want to keep eating like this!

Lost in cultural translation

My roommate, Maram, invited me last Sunday to go home with her and meet her family. She's from an Arab village in the north called Arara. I thought it was super nice of her to invite me and I was really looking forward to the experience. Before it all began, we had some drama go down. Oh, yes, small town drama happening even before we left!

Last Tuesday was the day of the Prophet, and we had the day off at school. Since Maram doesn't work on Wednesdays, she took decided to go home on Monday afternoon until Thursday morning. Then on Thursday after work (she's done at 3:20pm) her and I would take the bus to go to her village. That was the plan.

Maram left, and I spent the next few days with Areej and Mai. They were also planning on going home for the weekend (which was mainly the reason why Maram offered me to go with her- so I wouldn't stay home alone). When Mai found out I was going to Arara, she offered to drive me at 1:30pm, which is when she was leaving. My schedule is pretty flexible, and on Thursdays, I can do my work wherever I want after 1pm (as long as I work the number of hours I'm supposed to). I told her that sounded like a good idea, as long as Maram was ok with it- I also didn't want Maram going by herself. I thought Mai had talked to her, so I arranged to leave school at 1pm with Areej and catch a ride with Mai from home at 1:30pm.

On Thursday morning I went on a field trip with the kids to the Israel museum- pretty cool. Me and the kids were waiting outside for the bus, when I saw Maram arrive to school. She told me her mom had been preparing for my arrival, and that everyone was really excited to meet me. I was really happy to hear that. Before leaving she asked, today at 3:20pm, right? I told her that Mai had offered to give me a ride at 1:30pm, and I thought she knew. Maram was really upset and confused, but she really had to go, so we agreed to talk when I got back from the museum.

When I arrived back to school, I saw Areej in the teachers' lounge and she told me Maram was mad at Mai for having offered to give me a ride. It didn't seem like Maram having to go by herself was the issue, but Mai's offer to drive me. I didn't really understand what the big deal was, so I asked Areej. Areej, my cultural translator, I helped me understand a bit better what the situation was; in Arab society and culture, it is rude to have a guest and not offer them food (I was about to experience that for real). Maram was worried that if I arrived at Mai's house, I was going to be fed, and then I wouldn't be hungry for the meal her mom was preparing me.

I hadn't realized how big of a problem accepting Mai's offer was until that point. I asked Areej how I could fix the situation. She said she would talk to both of them again and arrange for me to go with Maram. In the end, Maram's cousin ended up picking us up and driving us to Arara. End of the drama, for now.