I want you, for a moment, to use your imagination. Especially if you're reading from a place like the US, you probably don't have much experience with traffic circles. I sure as hell didn't. They exist to assist the flow of traffic at an intersection that doesn't need a traffic light. Think of it this way - they're in place of a four-way stop. Getting in and out of the flow of traffic is tricky enough, especially with Israeli drivers coming at you in a flying, circular vortex of vehicular power (it really is that frightening sometimes). Now, take that circle, and make it two lanes. Two lanes of spinning insanity. And a lot of impatient people who are in that inner ring but who really, really want to exit RIGHT NOW, no matter the damage they cause to the other cars as they cut you off and nearly run over grandma who was crossing the road in the process. And then they continue down the road, seemingly oblivious to the massive accident they nearly caused and most definitely without a care in the world to the extreme spike in blood pressure that you, the other driver, just experienced.
That's how life in Israel is. For me. Right now. Maybe it's the change in weather. Winter is upon us which means rain and sandstorms and bitterly cold nights. The skyline is a peaceful gray right now as I gaze out my window. Maybe it's the upside down security situation right now, with terror attacks becoming more and more frequent and huge mistakes being made on both sides (why can't I just run the world?). Maybe it's the routine of school and internship and work and lessons and somehow trying to maintain a relationship, friendships, and my sanity. I can't put my finger on it. But right now, Israel is making me grumpy, just like that driver in the two-lane traffic circle.
It could be the bureaucracy that caused me to travel three different times to the hospital to pick up the disc of the CT I did a month ago. It could be the laziness of many secretaries in this country that causes so many issues and so many delays. It could be the two guys who rolled up next to me and my girlfriend (and my boyfriend and my dog) while waiting on my friend's taxi that wanted to "hire us" for the evening. It could be the trash in the streets, the dog shit on the sidewalks, and the people who think nothing is wrong with this. It could be the woman behind me at the supermarket who literally stood on my heels with the short-sighted logic that this will indeed make the line move faster. It could be that little, scared voice in my head that is so petrified of what may be...all this talk of the Third Intifada is terribly unnerving.
But then...then Israel, in her own backwards way, makes me fall in love all over again. It was the Chassidim dancing wildly on top of their van outside of a hip Be'er Sheva restaurant, basically stealing men from their girlfriends to dance with them to blaring music about the coming of the Messiah. And the awesome sticker that I got that says, "God loves you." It could be that reassuring smile from the cashier who knows just how frustrating it is to deal with those in this country who were not born with an ounce of patience - and to have hope that not everyone here is like that. It could be teaching someone English lessons in exchange for private yoga lessons (y'all, I hung upside down today on a rope! It was exhilarating!). It could be teaching a class to med students in English about how to effectively communicate with a patient and then immediately running to my own internship of how to care for clients in Hebrew. Life here always has that dichotomy. And just when you feel like you're about to break from anger and frustration, here she comes again to make you fall in love. It happens every time.
So, Israel, even with your endless frustrations, I continue to appreciate your beauty and your surprises. And I love you dearly. Until next time...
Friday, November 21, 2014
Sunday, November 9, 2014
The Chills Down My Spine
People are saying it. The news is reporting it. It's on everyone's mind. The Third Intifada is here.
Is it true? I keep trying to pretend that it's not. And even if my stomach is a bit nervous at the thought, I'm still not convinced that it's here. I'm still convinced that it's a tool of the media to get us all scared and up in arms again, a tool of the politicians to help advance their agendas.
But what if I'm wrong?
Last week, there were three terror attacks in Jerusalem. There has been constant rioting since the "end" of the war, and a general feeling of unrest is just floating through the airwaves there.
Today, however, shook me deeper down than any of this other, remote stuff has. My adorable officemate came wheeling around the corner and said, "You've got to come quick! There's a protest happening!" Together, we cautiously walked to where the noise was coming from, and we saw on the outside of the campus gates a very large crowd of people waving Palestinian flags.
Let me pause to say how much I support the right to organize and protest. I think it's beautiful. And this group was supremely organized with their agenda clearly stated. So, kudos to them for the work put into the protest.
The weird part is this - the protesters were mostly Bedouins. From what I know of Israeli history, Bedouins have been historically very supportive of Israel. There are Bedouin units in the army, and Bedouins identify (identified?) themselves as Israeli. I guess this could be coming from a wide range of areas, including complete grief and frustration at how they are marginalized by the Israeli government, are not afforded the same access to education and jobs as the rest of Israeli society, and so on. They're definitely coming with a strong voice to protest, but to do it so vehemently against what they once considered their home? That many of their own family members have died protecting? That's not a good sign, friends.
And I saw all of this happen today, in my beloved city of Be'er Sheva, outside the gates of my university. What does this mean? Are we are on the verge of being divided? Can we not get along? Is this the end of that beautiful air of cooperation and coexistence that we have enjoyed here in Be'er Sheva?
I don't know the answers to any of these questions, but watching that protest today, and watching the counter-protest by the group of Israelis, fueled by energy and emotion, really unsettled me. What's next? Am I being supremely naive thinking that this thing called peace is even possible?
I hope not.
Is it true? I keep trying to pretend that it's not. And even if my stomach is a bit nervous at the thought, I'm still not convinced that it's here. I'm still convinced that it's a tool of the media to get us all scared and up in arms again, a tool of the politicians to help advance their agendas.
But what if I'm wrong?
Last week, there were three terror attacks in Jerusalem. There has been constant rioting since the "end" of the war, and a general feeling of unrest is just floating through the airwaves there.
Today, however, shook me deeper down than any of this other, remote stuff has. My adorable officemate came wheeling around the corner and said, "You've got to come quick! There's a protest happening!" Together, we cautiously walked to where the noise was coming from, and we saw on the outside of the campus gates a very large crowd of people waving Palestinian flags.
Let me pause to say how much I support the right to organize and protest. I think it's beautiful. And this group was supremely organized with their agenda clearly stated. So, kudos to them for the work put into the protest.
The weird part is this - the protesters were mostly Bedouins. From what I know of Israeli history, Bedouins have been historically very supportive of Israel. There are Bedouin units in the army, and Bedouins identify (identified?) themselves as Israeli. I guess this could be coming from a wide range of areas, including complete grief and frustration at how they are marginalized by the Israeli government, are not afforded the same access to education and jobs as the rest of Israeli society, and so on. They're definitely coming with a strong voice to protest, but to do it so vehemently against what they once considered their home? That many of their own family members have died protecting? That's not a good sign, friends.
And I saw all of this happen today, in my beloved city of Be'er Sheva, outside the gates of my university. What does this mean? Are we are on the verge of being divided? Can we not get along? Is this the end of that beautiful air of cooperation and coexistence that we have enjoyed here in Be'er Sheva?
I don't know the answers to any of these questions, but watching that protest today, and watching the counter-protest by the group of Israelis, fueled by energy and emotion, really unsettled me. What's next? Am I being supremely naive thinking that this thing called peace is even possible?
I hope not.
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