I find some amazing contradictions of life in the West Bank. I noticed one today. It doesn't rain here at all between May and October. The winter is the rainy season. In this dry season, the air, filled with a fine sandy, dust, and the land, provide a stark brown background for any remaining greenery that strives to survive. And yet, because it is summer, it is the season in which the trees become full with their green leaves, helping to sway their branches in the hot wind.
In the winter, it can rain for 7 days straight, and at the end of that rain, the sky will open up, and suddenly below that sky will come a sparkling, green carpet of growth that suddenly adds a new dimension to the landscape. And yet, during this period, the trees are completely barren of any colored growth. I never noticed this contradiction until now...a contradiction I could not be fully aware of until I live a full year of seasons in this climate.
A couple weeks ago I made my second visit to Gaza. The government-in-charge wears full clean, neat and I'm guessing fairly new blue uniforms. And throughout the streets there are children running through the dirty, dusty streets completely bare-footed.
I watched a young child of 7 sketch a picture in crayons of a boat on the ocean. Two red and black missles are falling from the sky. The boy explains in his timid voice, eyes focused downward, that the two scary-eyed stick figures have jumped into the water because they don't want to be killed by the Israeli missles. I ask him in Arabic if this is something he has seen or heard about. He replies, "It's what I've imagined..." and after a slight pause..."and it scares me." Israelis are firing daily on the fishing boats that serve as the only possible livelihood for so many young Gazan men.
A half hour later, I am visiting a summer activity camp in the neighboring village for children aged 8-13. The camp takes place in a youth center which appears to be an untouched oasis surrounded by flattened homes and businesses. On the drive in, I can only think about what these people have witnessed and what they have lost. I spend an hour observing a theatrical performance for the children. Young men and women are acting as the facilitators and, without a complaint, they dress themselves in full, thick customs and put on a show about a Panda, Bunny and Chicken who are working together to convince the Panda's parents that it is OK and good to have fun. The skit is cute, and full of innocent one-liners. The children are in stitches, laughing non-stop with big smiles on their wide-eyed faces. After the skit, the children are invited to get up and dance with the animals. The children rush the stage and dance with such enthusiasm and life. I have to fight back the tears. How can children who have witnessed so much find the hope and ability to throw off the memories and fears which must haunt their sleep? I've been through much less and seem to struggle much more.
Back on the West Bank, much less serious contradictions again attract my attention. The people who care so much about their land, litter endlessly despite the fact that there are plenty of garbage dumpsters and cans on the streets with regular twice weekly pick-up. The people who get so angry with the senseless loss of life of their fellow citizens, also smoke without second thoughts.
Contradictions I believe are a normal part of life which no logic can justify or erase. But perhaps the biggest one of all is the ability of these amazing people to find such a normal range of feelings and life experiences in such an otherwise very abnormal situation.
In the winter, it can rain for 7 days straight, and at the end of that rain, the sky will open up, and suddenly below that sky will come a sparkling, green carpet of growth that suddenly adds a new dimension to the landscape. And yet, during this period, the trees are completely barren of any colored growth. I never noticed this contradiction until now...a contradiction I could not be fully aware of until I live a full year of seasons in this climate.
A couple weeks ago I made my second visit to Gaza. The government-in-charge wears full clean, neat and I'm guessing fairly new blue uniforms. And throughout the streets there are children running through the dirty, dusty streets completely bare-footed.
I watched a young child of 7 sketch a picture in crayons of a boat on the ocean. Two red and black missles are falling from the sky. The boy explains in his timid voice, eyes focused downward, that the two scary-eyed stick figures have jumped into the water because they don't want to be killed by the Israeli missles. I ask him in Arabic if this is something he has seen or heard about. He replies, "It's what I've imagined..." and after a slight pause..."and it scares me." Israelis are firing daily on the fishing boats that serve as the only possible livelihood for so many young Gazan men.
A half hour later, I am visiting a summer activity camp in the neighboring village for children aged 8-13. The camp takes place in a youth center which appears to be an untouched oasis surrounded by flattened homes and businesses. On the drive in, I can only think about what these people have witnessed and what they have lost. I spend an hour observing a theatrical performance for the children. Young men and women are acting as the facilitators and, without a complaint, they dress themselves in full, thick customs and put on a show about a Panda, Bunny and Chicken who are working together to convince the Panda's parents that it is OK and good to have fun. The skit is cute, and full of innocent one-liners. The children are in stitches, laughing non-stop with big smiles on their wide-eyed faces. After the skit, the children are invited to get up and dance with the animals. The children rush the stage and dance with such enthusiasm and life. I have to fight back the tears. How can children who have witnessed so much find the hope and ability to throw off the memories and fears which must haunt their sleep? I've been through much less and seem to struggle much more.
Back on the West Bank, much less serious contradictions again attract my attention. The people who care so much about their land, litter endlessly despite the fact that there are plenty of garbage dumpsters and cans on the streets with regular twice weekly pick-up. The people who get so angry with the senseless loss of life of their fellow citizens, also smoke without second thoughts.
Contradictions I believe are a normal part of life which no logic can justify or erase. But perhaps the biggest one of all is the ability of these amazing people to find such a normal range of feelings and life experiences in such an otherwise very abnormal situation.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment