I decided i would write more about my trip to the Palestinian village of Yatta for a few reasons. First, i don't think such an experience should be left incomplete. Also, from more than one person, i have been asked what happened to me. Was i brainwashed there? What's the deal? Well, i have a few things to say about that. The way i view Israel and the Palestinians did change this summer. It changed in Geneva as well as in Israel. I think it should always be changing as we learn more, as we grow older, as our perspectives change.
What's the grand observation? I'm not sure. I had a conversation with my dear friend Greg, who every time i speak with him i get years wiser. I told him about the end of my journey back from Hevron. Here is was the soldier in the army truck saw when he pulled up to me and asked me to get in the back to ask me some questions: a random white kid, getting out of a Palestinian car, with Palestinian plates, traveling from a Palestinian village. He gets out of the car, hugs three Palestinians, then walks across the road to a Jewish settlement to wait for a bus. I'm sure shalom achshav-niks (peace now folks) or the extreme left would cry wolf and cry injustice about this development. It made me feel good that they were doing their jobs, finding out what the matzav (situation) was.
Anyway, back to what i was trying to say. It is a fine line that i'm trying to walk between having trust for and faith in humanity, and trying to be true to myself and not get myself shot or blown up. Often, the line she is fine. Whether its going to Yatta, or hitchhiking in the galilea, or even
couchsurfing, it deals with the same debate. Some are free souls with true faith in every living being, and i see them get burned on many occasions. I also see the opposite
Me and Lisa are going to lunch. I'll finish later.
Friday, August 8, 2008
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Trip to Yatta Part II
Anyway, back to my day. I got off the bus in perhaps the closest place I could have to our meeting place, but it still didn’t do. I made friends with a few pottery artisans. Not only did they give me a really nice mug defaming my religion’s second holiest place by calling it “Abraham’s Mosque”, but he even knew the family I was going to see. He said he was going to drive me to them right now….yeah, I kinda figured I wouldn’t hop in a car with someone I just met randomly in Hevron, except for Ali’s family of course. I called the family to get it straightened out. Its not that I don’t trust people, in fact, as I am also a new member of couchsurfing.com, and a huge fan of hitchhiking (though i wont do it in the states, dad) I’m trying to place a bit more faith in humanity.
He gave me his card, if I should ever need anything if I’m in the area again.
I finally met up with the family, and we took a nice drive with the wind blowing every which way, out of Hevron to Yatta. I was forced upon with various cucumbers and plums. It was very pretty, as the Samarian hills often are.
When we pulled up to the village, it was what I expected I guess. A respectable place, not lavish, not a P.O.S. We pulled up to the front gate and Abu-Jamal had us stop for an explanation. The front gate can be closed if a soldier comes over and does so, and no one can leave until he opens it back up. There was also a nice red sign in front saying “Yo, the Palestinian Authority runs this piece. Step off. No Israelis allowed.”
We had snack time at least 4 times, tea time twice, coffee time twice, and a very sizable feast for lunch. I got there and we had a snack o’ fruit, and I met the family. The place is like compound – its all a whole concoction of family, the brothers own houses next to each other and kids are everywhere, its massive, its beautiful, and the granite stone floor is everywhere and astonishing.
We took our shoes off and entered a living room where we sat and talked (mostly in English, but some had bad English and good Hebrew, so we spoke that, but also they wanted to test my Arabic skills, which improved throughout the day) and met the family, and I further tried to learn exactly how everyone is related to everyone else.
I’m not sure where in the entry this would go, so I’ll say it here. I am completely at a loss of words for how generous they were to me. I walk in the door, and they address me as family, treat me like family…Abu Jamal kept saying, “How many sons do I have?” “Seven,” I’d reply, “and 24 grandchildren.” “Yes, but today I have 8 sons, Daniel.” Ali actually called in the afternoon and we passed him around, and when he handed me the phone, he said to Ali, “here’s your brother, Daniel.” Hahaha.
He gave me his card, if I should ever need anything if I’m in the area again.
I finally met up with the family, and we took a nice drive with the wind blowing every which way, out of Hevron to Yatta. I was forced upon with various cucumbers and plums. It was very pretty, as the Samarian hills often are.
When we pulled up to the village, it was what I expected I guess. A respectable place, not lavish, not a P.O.S. We pulled up to the front gate and Abu-Jamal had us stop for an explanation. The front gate can be closed if a soldier comes over and does so, and no one can leave until he opens it back up. There was also a nice red sign in front saying “Yo, the Palestinian Authority runs this piece. Step off. No Israelis allowed.”
We had snack time at least 4 times, tea time twice, coffee time twice, and a very sizable feast for lunch. I got there and we had a snack o’ fruit, and I met the family. The place is like compound – its all a whole concoction of family, the brothers own houses next to each other and kids are everywhere, its massive, its beautiful, and the granite stone floor is everywhere and astonishing.
We took our shoes off and entered a living room where we sat and talked (mostly in English, but some had bad English and good Hebrew, so we spoke that, but also they wanted to test my Arabic skills, which improved throughout the day) and met the family, and I further tried to learn exactly how everyone is related to everyone else.
I’m not sure where in the entry this would go, so I’ll say it here. I am completely at a loss of words for how generous they were to me. I walk in the door, and they address me as family, treat me like family…Abu Jamal kept saying, “How many sons do I have?” “Seven,” I’d reply, “and 24 grandchildren.” “Yes, but today I have 8 sons, Daniel.” Ali actually called in the afternoon and we passed him around, and when he handed me the phone, he said to Ali, “here’s your brother, Daniel.” Hahaha.
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