Friday, April 30, 2010

Keeping it Positive


My son likes to sing Christmas Carols, regardless of the time of year.  He likes to read books about holidays way after a holiday is past (Halloween books in April!).  And everytime I see this, it makes me smile.  Not only do I have the benefit of feeling some of those fuzzy feelings that a holiday brings on, but I get the doubled opportunity to laugh at the seemingly silliness of it all.

But staying positive, which I thought was once a part of my nature, is generally more difficult to come by these days.  I came across some materials from a workshop I took at Kripalu a few years back and saw some advice given by the instructor, "Drop in positive thoughts in place of those negative ones!"

What a challenge that has been this week!  I recieved a frantic call from my son's school telling me that he was being brought to the hospital for head injuries.  As I raced to the hospital in a uncommon April rainstorm, I was rear-ended by another car.  While that was all happening, an American friend and colleague had her Israeli visa revoked at the Gaza border and was sent back into Gaza until people and forces at the highest political level could get her released.

The shock, the crazziness of it all, while it does take a lot out of me, it makes me chuckle, and it all reminds me that it is mostly all about the here and now.  There is a heck of a lot of stuff in my life that makes me feel like its not all going in the direction I want it to, but I know very few people who I would like to trade my life with.

I'm just about to start a new job which I've been handpicked for by a supervisor who has the potential to go on the list of best bosses I've ever had.  I've decided to make changes in my living space to take some of the major worries and concerns out of my life that have been pestering me for the past two years.  I've decided to hire a personal trainer at the gym and stop moaning and groaning about my unhappiness with my body.  So I have many things that I should be secure in believing that life is trending positively.  And with everything else, I'll just remind myself that everyday of the year can't be Christmas Day.

Monday, April 19, 2010

Expectations


A lot of driver education teachers in Ramallah like to bring their students to my neighborhood. I'm guessing its because the streets are wide and traffic is generally sparse.   Most, if not all, the students I see are female.  Which is telling, considering how poorly skilled the Palestinian male drivers are.  And these young women are extremely timid drivers, which if you've ever been in the passenger seat with a novice driver at the wheel, you'll also know they are the worst kind of drivers.  I'll never forget a driver's ed class I took in high shool when our teacher decided to instruct us on urban highway driving.  I was behind the wheel trying to merge into three lanes of oncoming traffic on the aptly named "Driving Park Bridge" in Rochester.  I remember glancing in my rearview mirror and seeing my three classmates in the rear seat huddled together in fear, and the instructor beside me in the passenger seat with his white knuckles grasping at the dusty dashboard.  I was the most timid driver in the world.  Ah, but that was then and this is now

Last week I came very close to being in my first very serious car accident here.  I would say by about 12 inches exactly.  The accident, however, did occur between the car in front of me, another one that was trying to overtake me on the left (a taxi no less, what is it with taxi drivers?), and a woman in a vehicle pulling out into oncoming traffic.  I detoured around the crashed vehicles, parked my car, and walked my shaky legs over to the crash scene.  I honestly expected to see people yelling and screaming at each other, I mean the adrenaline caused by the near crash had my nerves up!  But instead, I watched as a man ushered a woman into the back seat of his car and then turned to speak to the policeman.  I approached him and confirmed tat it was he whose car had impacted the women's car so hard that the entire front end of her car was slashed off.  I told him I was following right behind him ad had witnessed what happened (the woman pulled into oncoming traffic without ever stopping or looking), and asked if he needed my help with a statement or anything.  He responded in the most calm and polite tone, "No thank you.  I think the woman was sleeping or distracted.  So I have put her in my car to let her calm down and not worry."  I was so stunned to witness an incredible amount of civility between people.

I never thought of myself expecting anything different, but maybe all my travels and life experiences have left me a bit jaded . I've come to realize that I do in fact rarely expect to meet strangers who treat each other with respect and dignity, especially in a setting such as the West Bank where the occupying force strips the people of their dignity on a daily basis. 

In fact, with such few expectations, I have come to witness incredible acts of generosity and simple kindness over the past few months.  After a week's worth of rainfall recently, I took my son out to a normally dry riverbed to enjoy the rare waterfalls and instantanous acquatic life that had sprouted up in a valley not far from our house.  While I have been on plenty of outing with friends and colleagues, it is rare that I wander off alone with my son.  But as we hiked in and out of the olive groves along the narrow and rocky riverbed, we were continously invited by families to join in their picnics.   Families spoke to us in English and Arabic, asking where we came from, what were we doing here, and how we liked their country.  None of it was instrusive or uncomfortable, and the conversations always ended with pleas from them for us to sit down and enjoy a cup of coffee.   A few young boys even approached my son who was trying to build a mini-damn out of stones and handed him a week's worth of chocolate chip cookies.  The look of surprise on his face was priceless!

Since then, I have been working on returning to the "mind of the beginner" as a foreigner in this culture -to remember and see things as if for the first time, without expectations.  In doing so, I have been rewarded greatly.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Down Winding Roads

I've developed a twitch. It happens over my right eye and it happens as I drive away from Israeli checkpoints. It's the oddest thing...or not. Israeli checkpoints have become extremely stressful for me. I have the "right" passport and I rarely get more than a perfunctory nod before passing through. So in comparison to Palestinians, I have it easy. Yet the stress is obviously getting to me and the twitch is now becoming a predictable talisman.


I've never scientifically measured it, but I can assure you that I can't drive more than 10 kilometers from my house without crossing a checkpoint or being stopped by an Israeli or Palestinian police officer. What is freaky is that I feel like I have something to hide no matter who is manning the checkpoint or waving the car down.



Recently, a protest which lead to a checkpoint closure which lead to a 5km long traffic jam forced me to take a 30km detour to reach my house after a very stressful day in Jerusalem. My son was with me in our jalopy, which is so old it lacks some of the usual pleasant diversions, such as a radio. I just couldn't wait to be back to our house, and preferably before dark, as the unlit and winding west bank roads can be difficult to drive past dark.



During that day my car had been opened and searched at various points in Jerusalem (shopping malls, Jaffa St), as well as my personal effects searched (stores, the US Consulate, hotels). The one part that made me look forward to the 30km detour was the fact that it brings me through one of the "easiest" checkpoints between Jerusalem and the West Bank - no passports checked, no trunks to be opened, no nosy questions. But as I approached the checkpoint, my car was waved over by an Israeli policeman. I pulled the car up slowly to the side of the road. As I opened the window, the policeman started to greet me in Arabic. Before he could finish, I looked at him and sighed. "I am an American," I stated with a tedious look all over my face. As soon as I heard myself speak those words, they sounded so laughable - what do they mean in this place where identity is about religion and what side of the wall you live on? The Israeli policeman responded in a hurried voice, "American? ok, just go ahead," as he quickly waved me on and moved to another car behind me. I was surprised it worked, but was happy to avoid any questions. If I had to explain that I lived in Ramallah, things would have gotten very complicated very fast.



On another trip out of the West Bank to Tel Aviv, I was riding along in the car admiring the greening spring hillsides and terraces of the West Bank when I suddenly saw an Israeli solider standing up on a cliff over looking the road. The now sixth sense screamed to my brain, "danger ahead, slow down!" As I let up on the gas and came around a bend in the road, I was suddenly upon an impromptu Israeli checkpoint known as a "flying checkpoint." An army jeep and about 4 Israeli soldiers just set up shop in the middle of the road, checking IDs and passengers. I slammed on my break, and was certain that the squealing noise of the burning rubber of the tires would certainly invite a round of pointed guns at the car - maybe I've watched too many movies. Luckily for me, I must have been so obviously and quickly tagged as a non-threat, being female with a child in the car. When the soldiers walked up, I apologized for almost running the checkpoint, and they smiled and waved me through. As soon as I passed through, my right eye brow began twitching like mad. Ah yes, the checkpoint twitch!

Sunday, February 7, 2010

Somebody is writing my life in Fairytales

One of the reasons I've found it difficult to keep updated on the blog recently is that the reality of my life has become a little too overwhelming and distracting. I've been focusing my energy on keeping my head above water. I am fortuned to be surrounded by friends who offer sympathetic ears, kind arms and shoulders to cry on, and offers to occupy my son so I can have the peace and quiet I need to process everything.


Today a good friend came by to tell me that her daughter spent her weekend writing a fairytale about "Donna" - hardly a common Arab name, indicating the stories were based on her daughter's numerous interactions with me. And the tales are apparently quite intriguing- a woman living the "complex realities" of a dream world, and other poetic turns of phrases that seemed far more mature in language than her 10 year old brain. As my friend described the written tales, I started to wish that was the world I was living in.



Sometimes I feel that my fairytale was ripped out from under my feet and tramped on. Then the person who stole and mocked that fairytale, adopted it for himself. And now, he is seemingly enjoying showing it off and rubbing it in my face.



I have to hold onto the belief that the beautiful life I imagined for myself is in the process of being replaced by a life of love and beauty beyond my greatest imagination. But still, I do somehow wish that it could all be a fairytale.

Saturday, February 6, 2010

Unveiling

I work and socialize here with such a wide-range of Arab women - conservative Muslims who veil, conservatve Muslims who don't veil, secular muslims who don't veil, and Christians who don't veil but also cover the entire gamut of religious conservatism.

It is always a unique moment for me when I see a normally veiled women without her head covering for the first time. In most cases, I find her much younger looking. And any mental games I've played to figure out the color and texture of her hair almost never represent the reality.

I attended a colleague's wedding a few weeks ago. During her last day on the job before the big day, she announced to me that the wedding would be at a "seperated" hall - meaning men in one room and women in the other. She had made that decision because she wanted it to be a special day during which she would not have to dress as she normally does - meaning, she would be unveiled.

The day prior to the wedding was a henna party. These are women-only parties where traditionally the bride and her closest female relatives have their hands, arms, feets and legs decorated with henna. At this party, there was no actual henna decorating, but all guests were sent home with a small packet of henna and chocolate. I was more excited for the henna party than the actual wedding since it is a much more modern rarity in Palestine, and it would give me a chance to dust off my traditional Palestinian thobe (tunic robe) and do some traditional dancing.

When I arrived at the party, I was met by a room full of women robed in these beautiful array of brightly-colored and embroiderded dresses. The groom was the only male in the room, dancing chastley with the bride. I joined a group of other colleagues dancing around the couple. After a few minutes, I suddenly noticed that several women around me were nimbly undoing their headscarfs. The groom had left, and the women, old and young, seemed quite anxious to undo themselves of the cumbersome scarves. For the first time in over 18 months, I saw the bare heads of my colleagues, and it took me some time to take in the impressions of these first glimpses of these unveiled women.

After about a half hour more of dancing, the electricity suddenly went out. It wasn't a general outage, but appeared to be specific to the room we were in. A handful of women, bride included, located the several fuse boxes, and tried to fix the problem. As the minutes clicked by and there was no obvious solution, I heard russling of clothing around me, and noticed the women putting their headscarves back on. There was fear that a man would be arriving to find the fix. The unveiling was over.