Posts
Marhaba Man
September 28, 2000
Sigh, only in the country three weeks, and have I got one drunk (or crazy) man hanging on me. I call him Marhaba Man, since as I almost stepped on him in the street the second night I was here. I apologized as best I could, which was at that point, saying marhaba (hi in Arabic). Suddenly he got this crazy delighted look on his face and said, "Marhaba, Marhaba, you American girl! Marhaba Marhaba!" And followed us halfway home loudly professing his love for us. But after a while he left us and we thought nothing more of it.
Then two days later...I was walking home from work at five-ish and just as I got to the busiest intersection, I spot him from over a hundred yards away across 6 lanes of traffic. He yelled, "Marhaba, American woman!!!," bounded across those 6 lanes of traffic, ran up to me, grabbed both cheeks and kissed me full on the face. Bleh! Traffic came to a sudden halt. If I could have remembered it, I would have said, Imshee! (piss off!) but I only remembered La Shukran! (no thank you!) and squirmed out. The cars were honking at him and finally he left me alone, but before he did he called to me, "Marhaba American woman, I love you!!!" And all the way home, I should have been scared witless, but I couldn't stop laughing all night. I haven't seen him since. Only hope you're all getting muchas smooches too....
love Le Anne
Thursday, September 28, 2000
Wednesday, September 27, 2000
Dancing lessons with the Communist Party and Sunday Dinner in a Muslim House
Dancing Lessons with the Communist Party and Sunday Dinner in a Muslim House…
September 27, 2000
It's been a strange week, partly because I've been waylaid a few days with a nasty sinus infection. I’m only now beginning to understand that it may have something to do with the new construction and all that extra dust across the road. The 6 sheep and their stack of hay have been moved elsewhere and there's a big hole in the
ground.
Nazareth seems to have a special dispensation to build, (everywhere else Palestinian homes are being bulldozed) and build they do, like you wouldn't believe. It seems all the neighbors are out on the weekend adding another level to their houses, and semi-high-rise apartments are cropping up all over. Should be interesting to watch.
Last Friday we went with our new friend Abed to watch his Depke (Palestinian folk dancing) group practice downtown. On the way, we learned that the interesting building with all the Palestinian protest signs housed the Palestinian Communist party, otherwise known as the Palestinian Democratic Front. Why else would a painting of Che Guevara be in the middle of Nazareth? So we figured this group had interesting neighbors. However, as Abed took us in to meet the leader of the party, we realized the Communist party actually owned the building and sponsored the dancing group. This is not as bad as it seems. The party is actually the second largest in Nazareth and held with few of the negative connotations it has in the U.S. So, was I worried? Actually, it seemed the perfect time to mention that I'd been part of the International May Day march on Washington with the Communists when I was in the South Bronx. (Didn't mention that I had been a rather unwilling participant at that time.) They sponsor the group because one of their main beliefs is to preserve and pass on the Palestinian traditions, which are all too quickly being lost in this generation. So to make a long story short, this Friday and every other one after it, I will be downtown trying to cure myself of my three left feet and discussing the revolution on the side.
After practice, we all went to the sheesha bar in Mary's Well Square for supper. A sheesha is a water pipe, or hubbly-bubbly, with flavored tobacco, like in Alice in Wonderland. So the waiters came out and gave us Fez hats to wear and I will have pictures to show you all. (My brothers better not laugh, because Christmas is
coming…) While we were waiting for our suppers, we hopped over to the Greek orthodox annunciation church, which contains the source of Mary's well. Abed, who let it be known is Muslim and has never before set foot in that church, was shortly thereafter accosted by Italian tourists who wanted to know the history of the place. No, Abed doesn't speak Italian, but he did a pretty good sign language explanation of it all, including the pregnant Mary part. Next week we're going to the Catholic Basilica and going to see if we can pick up a few extra bucks…
Abed invited us to his family's home for Sunday dinner. Now I said I was cooking vegetarian, but don't expect to see me coming home any skinnier, because there is a countrywide conspiracy to keep me plump. His mother brought out this huge platter of mensaf, I think, which is rice and ground beef, topped with chicken and eaten with cooked yogurt. You don't see this much food at Thanksgiving. It was wonderful, even after the mandatory third helping. We waddled home several hours later.
I am now in the girl's shelter on Monday afternoons and evenings, and this is by far the most rewarding part of my work. Last time I brought my guitar and tried to teach a song in English, but mostly they were all just interested in trying it out themselves. Then they try to teach me other types of Arab dancing, so I really won't have any excuse if I come home uncoordinated. I'm now trying to master the head bob and the `hip thing', and lets not even get started on the `chest wiggle'. Yesterday afternoon I was invited for `arts and crafts.' Imagine my surprise when they were all sitting in a circle doing cross-stitch! When was the last time you saw American teenage girls do cross-stitch, and enjoy it??? But they do this at least four times a week, and often sell the results at the yearly charity ball. So now I am learning too. The teacher starts random pieces, and then hands them to me to finish.
I'm not sure if I told you about Wafaa, my somewhat English-speaking friend at the shelter. I thought she was thirteen. She's 20. She actually looks a lot like Tom (my brother), only female and much darker skinned. I haven't figured out what brought her there specifically yet, and maybe I don't need to know. The first day there, she made me a beautiful beaded bracelet and wrote me notes, and I wrote about myself in her journal, and told her I'd be coming every week. She also translated everything between me and the other girls who don't speak any English. I probably learned more Arabic from two hours with her than in the previous two weeks.
When I showed up yesterday, I was heartbroken. They told me she went home. And I know that if I'm going to work in a shelter, then I have to accept that, girls will come in and go out and not to get overly attached. So I tried not to look too disappointed and focused on my cross-stitch. But wouldn't you know who showed up just an hour before I came the first time, carrying everything she had in a shopping bag! I don't know exactly yet what happened. She said she `escaped' with some other girls last week, but knew I was coming back and missed me. Then she made me two more bracelets and played with my guitar. Just in case this time, I gave her my address at the seminary for next year.
The office end has been extremely busy these last few days, which is why you're getting all of this at once. I am writing reports for different foundations and helping with the strategic planning. A lot of the issues at this shelter apply to the ones back home. For example, the debate today was what to do when the staff knew that an adult woman would always be in danger of being murdered, though the woman herself kept returning to the situation. In this case, her husband attempted to kill her, but didn't succeed and was sent to jail. When she returned home from the shelter, her male cousin tried to kill her as well. Now he's in jail and she wants to go home again, where other relatives are similarly ready to go after her. At least where the woman is from, the killers are being held in jail. As I said before, this doesn't happen too often. I will give further updates about the situation of Palestinian women soon, I promise.
September 27, 2000
It's been a strange week, partly because I've been waylaid a few days with a nasty sinus infection. I’m only now beginning to understand that it may have something to do with the new construction and all that extra dust across the road. The 6 sheep and their stack of hay have been moved elsewhere and there's a big hole in the
ground.
Nazareth seems to have a special dispensation to build, (everywhere else Palestinian homes are being bulldozed) and build they do, like you wouldn't believe. It seems all the neighbors are out on the weekend adding another level to their houses, and semi-high-rise apartments are cropping up all over. Should be interesting to watch.
Last Friday we went with our new friend Abed to watch his Depke (Palestinian folk dancing) group practice downtown. On the way, we learned that the interesting building with all the Palestinian protest signs housed the Palestinian Communist party, otherwise known as the Palestinian Democratic Front. Why else would a painting of Che Guevara be in the middle of Nazareth? So we figured this group had interesting neighbors. However, as Abed took us in to meet the leader of the party, we realized the Communist party actually owned the building and sponsored the dancing group. This is not as bad as it seems. The party is actually the second largest in Nazareth and held with few of the negative connotations it has in the U.S. So, was I worried? Actually, it seemed the perfect time to mention that I'd been part of the International May Day march on Washington with the Communists when I was in the South Bronx. (Didn't mention that I had been a rather unwilling participant at that time.) They sponsor the group because one of their main beliefs is to preserve and pass on the Palestinian traditions, which are all too quickly being lost in this generation. So to make a long story short, this Friday and every other one after it, I will be downtown trying to cure myself of my three left feet and discussing the revolution on the side.
After practice, we all went to the sheesha bar in Mary's Well Square for supper. A sheesha is a water pipe, or hubbly-bubbly, with flavored tobacco, like in Alice in Wonderland. So the waiters came out and gave us Fez hats to wear and I will have pictures to show you all. (My brothers better not laugh, because Christmas is
coming…) While we were waiting for our suppers, we hopped over to the Greek orthodox annunciation church, which contains the source of Mary's well. Abed, who let it be known is Muslim and has never before set foot in that church, was shortly thereafter accosted by Italian tourists who wanted to know the history of the place. No, Abed doesn't speak Italian, but he did a pretty good sign language explanation of it all, including the pregnant Mary part. Next week we're going to the Catholic Basilica and going to see if we can pick up a few extra bucks…
Abed invited us to his family's home for Sunday dinner. Now I said I was cooking vegetarian, but don't expect to see me coming home any skinnier, because there is a countrywide conspiracy to keep me plump. His mother brought out this huge platter of mensaf, I think, which is rice and ground beef, topped with chicken and eaten with cooked yogurt. You don't see this much food at Thanksgiving. It was wonderful, even after the mandatory third helping. We waddled home several hours later.
I am now in the girl's shelter on Monday afternoons and evenings, and this is by far the most rewarding part of my work. Last time I brought my guitar and tried to teach a song in English, but mostly they were all just interested in trying it out themselves. Then they try to teach me other types of Arab dancing, so I really won't have any excuse if I come home uncoordinated. I'm now trying to master the head bob and the `hip thing', and lets not even get started on the `chest wiggle'. Yesterday afternoon I was invited for `arts and crafts.' Imagine my surprise when they were all sitting in a circle doing cross-stitch! When was the last time you saw American teenage girls do cross-stitch, and enjoy it??? But they do this at least four times a week, and often sell the results at the yearly charity ball. So now I am learning too. The teacher starts random pieces, and then hands them to me to finish.
I'm not sure if I told you about Wafaa, my somewhat English-speaking friend at the shelter. I thought she was thirteen. She's 20. She actually looks a lot like Tom (my brother), only female and much darker skinned. I haven't figured out what brought her there specifically yet, and maybe I don't need to know. The first day there, she made me a beautiful beaded bracelet and wrote me notes, and I wrote about myself in her journal, and told her I'd be coming every week. She also translated everything between me and the other girls who don't speak any English. I probably learned more Arabic from two hours with her than in the previous two weeks.
When I showed up yesterday, I was heartbroken. They told me she went home. And I know that if I'm going to work in a shelter, then I have to accept that, girls will come in and go out and not to get overly attached. So I tried not to look too disappointed and focused on my cross-stitch. But wouldn't you know who showed up just an hour before I came the first time, carrying everything she had in a shopping bag! I don't know exactly yet what happened. She said she `escaped' with some other girls last week, but knew I was coming back and missed me. Then she made me two more bracelets and played with my guitar. Just in case this time, I gave her my address at the seminary for next year.
The office end has been extremely busy these last few days, which is why you're getting all of this at once. I am writing reports for different foundations and helping with the strategic planning. A lot of the issues at this shelter apply to the ones back home. For example, the debate today was what to do when the staff knew that an adult woman would always be in danger of being murdered, though the woman herself kept returning to the situation. In this case, her husband attempted to kill her, but didn't succeed and was sent to jail. When she returned home from the shelter, her male cousin tried to kill her as well. Now he's in jail and she wants to go home again, where other relatives are similarly ready to go after her. At least where the woman is from, the killers are being held in jail. As I said before, this doesn't happen too often. I will give further updates about the situation of Palestinian women soon, I promise.
Wednesday, September 20, 2000
I slept in a refugee camp, and other West Bank tales
I Slept in a Refugee Camp, and Other West Bank Tales
September 20, 2000
Well, if you saw an orange-shirted white girl on CNN over the weekend you know where I was. As you may know, a worldwide 'right to return' rally was held this last weekend. (The right to return is a UN mandate stating that it is a universal human right to return to one's native lands after a war or conflict. Palestinians who were forced into the refugee camps in 1948, for example, are still living there). And one of those rallies was held at the Dheisha refugee camp in Bethlehem, marching to a neighboring refugee camp in nearby Beit Jala.
I had started off Saturday expecting to go shopping in Jerusalem with my housemates, which I wasn't that excited about. (Mmmm...shopping...) So when three other friends unexpectedly jumped into our service (cheap shared taxi) and announced they were going to the protest, I changed my plans.
It turned out to be a most amazing weekend. We first went to a meeting of Palestinians from both sides of the Green line (West Bank versus Israel proper) discussing how to improve their solidarity with one another. Then we went to the camp. You simply cannot imagine the living conditions of what has become a permanent, confined ghetto of refugees. The tents of the original camp are gone, replaced by basic concrete structures. Even though the Israeli soldiers are gone, there is nowhere for these people to go. They aren't allowed to build new homes anywhere else.
We went to the children's center in the middle of the camp. Two weeks ago, it housed a computer lab, a children's library, a cultural exchange program, and places to teach dancing and other activities for the kids. Last week, arsonists came in from outside the camp, stole all the computers, poured kerosene over everything, and burned it all. They had just begun to clear out the debris. The structure is still standing, but of course none of the wiring is safe. I don't know what they are going to do. 400 children a day were using that center.
Even though the people in the camps haven't been able to leave, they have had more control over their camp since the Israelis left. So they have recently completed a youth hostel on the grounds of the camp, which will be staffed by the women who live in Dheisha. This serves the double purpose of bringing income and employment to some
of the Dheisha residents, and awareness about their conditions to the young people who will stay there.
The march, and the rally afterwards, were fantastic. We must have blocked traffic for maybe three miles, cautiously avoiding a clash with the Israeli border police (made a detour) There were hundreds of Palestinians, and many of the human rights workers from around the country. The children took the greatest part in the event, carrying the banners and singing solidarity and peace songs on a megaphone, and most impressively, speaking at the rally. I have heard impassioned political speeches before, but never by twelve year olds. The rally ended across from a cemetery and a memorial for some twenty refugee children who had been killed by soldiers.
We did a lot of walking that day, also because the service driver was Israeli and heard us talking about the rally. So he dropped us off in the middle of a Hasidic neighborhood (read: closed on Shabbat) and we walked two miles to the real service stop in Jerusalem.
That night we also went to this fantastic Bedouin style nightclub called 'Memories'. Strangely there were several Elvis photos on the wall. But I loved the couches and low tables and antique instruments hanging on the walls. My friends kept trying to get me to dance, but unfortunately my feet were on the verge of bleeding from the walking. So I made good use of that couch and nursed my one Danish beer.
Tell you what--this has been too long, and I promise to catch you up to date later. I should write shorter and more often instead. Hope all is going well in the States, and I appreciate all the notes I am getting.
Peace,
Le Anne
September 20, 2000
Well, if you saw an orange-shirted white girl on CNN over the weekend you know where I was. As you may know, a worldwide 'right to return' rally was held this last weekend. (The right to return is a UN mandate stating that it is a universal human right to return to one's native lands after a war or conflict. Palestinians who were forced into the refugee camps in 1948, for example, are still living there). And one of those rallies was held at the Dheisha refugee camp in Bethlehem, marching to a neighboring refugee camp in nearby Beit Jala.
I had started off Saturday expecting to go shopping in Jerusalem with my housemates, which I wasn't that excited about. (Mmmm...shopping...) So when three other friends unexpectedly jumped into our service (cheap shared taxi) and announced they were going to the protest, I changed my plans.
It turned out to be a most amazing weekend. We first went to a meeting of Palestinians from both sides of the Green line (West Bank versus Israel proper) discussing how to improve their solidarity with one another. Then we went to the camp. You simply cannot imagine the living conditions of what has become a permanent, confined ghetto of refugees. The tents of the original camp are gone, replaced by basic concrete structures. Even though the Israeli soldiers are gone, there is nowhere for these people to go. They aren't allowed to build new homes anywhere else.
We went to the children's center in the middle of the camp. Two weeks ago, it housed a computer lab, a children's library, a cultural exchange program, and places to teach dancing and other activities for the kids. Last week, arsonists came in from outside the camp, stole all the computers, poured kerosene over everything, and burned it all. They had just begun to clear out the debris. The structure is still standing, but of course none of the wiring is safe. I don't know what they are going to do. 400 children a day were using that center.
Even though the people in the camps haven't been able to leave, they have had more control over their camp since the Israelis left. So they have recently completed a youth hostel on the grounds of the camp, which will be staffed by the women who live in Dheisha. This serves the double purpose of bringing income and employment to some
of the Dheisha residents, and awareness about their conditions to the young people who will stay there.
The march, and the rally afterwards, were fantastic. We must have blocked traffic for maybe three miles, cautiously avoiding a clash with the Israeli border police (made a detour) There were hundreds of Palestinians, and many of the human rights workers from around the country. The children took the greatest part in the event, carrying the banners and singing solidarity and peace songs on a megaphone, and most impressively, speaking at the rally. I have heard impassioned political speeches before, but never by twelve year olds. The rally ended across from a cemetery and a memorial for some twenty refugee children who had been killed by soldiers.
We did a lot of walking that day, also because the service driver was Israeli and heard us talking about the rally. So he dropped us off in the middle of a Hasidic neighborhood (read: closed on Shabbat) and we walked two miles to the real service stop in Jerusalem.
That night we also went to this fantastic Bedouin style nightclub called 'Memories'. Strangely there were several Elvis photos on the wall. But I loved the couches and low tables and antique instruments hanging on the walls. My friends kept trying to get me to dance, but unfortunately my feet were on the verge of bleeding from the walking. So I made good use of that couch and nursed my one Danish beer.
Tell you what--this has been too long, and I promise to catch you up to date later. I should write shorter and more often instead. Hope all is going well in the States, and I appreciate all the notes I am getting.
Peace,
Le Anne
Sunday, September 10, 2000
First Impressions
Greetings, everyone!I have arrived safely and happily in Nazareth. Only a few minorglitches, like the pilot missed the runway the first time around.("We'll just bring'er up and try again," he said...) I found out themain bus stop in Nazareth looks like an abandoned alley at 10 pm whenI got there (eek!) But the other volunteers found me soon enough andall is well.I am in for some pretty serious work here in the next year. First ofall, I am working for the Women Against Violence center (arabic nameunpronounceable), which is a recent change of plans. Their previousresource and project developer eloped to Brazil, so I was 'borrowed'from the Human Rights Association for my experience with SMART team.WAV is the only system of shelters and crisis services available inArabic for battered and raped Palestinian women and teenage girls.In fact, its the only one in the entire Middle East. The situationis more grim because once raped, they (girls especially) are subjectto family honor killings in rural and traditional families. AndIsraeli courts are largely looking the other way. There have been about 7 honor killings per year (reported)in the last ten years. My first job is to restore order to the chaos my predecessor left behind. Then, I am putting my English (and likely German)to work ingrantwriting and fundraising, developing new projects for the center,I would like to pave the way for a doubling of shelter space, mostlythrough in-kind donations, as they turned away 102 women for the 67they could care for last year. I should also be doing some Englishtutoring for the staff, building a website, and we'll see afterthat. I will be touring with my boss, Aida Touma-Suliman, later thisfall around the country conducting lectures and workshops.I live 100 yards outside the city limits, its about a half hour walkinto work. Another 15 minutes maybe to the Basilica. I share thevolunteer apartment which has a huge balcony overlooking amicroscopic farm and a mosque on the other side of the highway. Forfuture reference, the farm seems to be in the middle of a steel yard,and has 6 sheep, a stack of hay, one horse, one cow. The mosque,because of curious color choices, will heretofore be known asthe "funky mosque." The muezzin seems to be a bit young because hisvoice cracks often during call to prayer. But it is still the mostbeautiful sound to hear six muezzins calling at once!It's an eye-opener to be in Nazareth. The neighborhood I work inlooks not unlike central Tegucigalpa after the hurricane. There aremultiple collapsed buildings and very poor or nonexistent roads andinfrastructure problems. I actually walk in on dust and broken glasspathways along the road. This is not the tourist side we saw twoyears ago on May Term. Of course Nazrat Illit, the Israelisettlement up the mountain, is in perfect condition. That isan 'economic development zone.'Anyway. The volunteer group around here is very close and I ammaking lots of friends. I was treated to a bedouin-style party onthe beach at the sea of Galilee last weekend, courtesy of the localPalestinians our age, and got a free sitar lesson. Next weekend, I'mtaking the other volunteers to Jerusalem for the grand tour. InNovember, we can go to Cairo for $50 for the end of Ramadan. $8bucks or less gets you anywhere in the country. So there will beplenty of relief to the demanding work!I don't think I'll write too often, because I know you are all busierthan I am, and you might be a tad bitter if I mention they brought inbaklava and sweets for lunch (somebody bought a car and needed tocelebrate--do you understand the parable of the lost coin now!)whenWartburg probably served scrod cod. Let me know if/how often youwant to be updated. Have a great year!!!!Peace,Le Anne
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)