It's Sunday night (Sunday being the first day of the work week here), and happily it is also the start of my vacation. We have the rest of the week off - Monday for some sort of Independence Day (independence from what, I don't know) and the following days for Eid. I'm hoping to do some traveling during the break, perhaps to Hebron and mayhaps elsewhere.
Was that an explosion I felt, or are you just happy to see me?
Last week was the first week to experience a number of earth-quaking booms, the origins of which I have yet to completely verify. The first I heard one, I was sitting in a cocktail joint (it's a delicious fruity milkshake thing) and I felt the ground shake. Considering that absolutely no one inside or outside of the establishment seemed to take notice, I ignored it and assumed that it was simply a harbinger of my descent into madness. However, when I returned home, my roomies were talking about it, too. The sensation of the ground, windows, and walls shaking was apparently far more intense by our house. There was debate as to whether it was a sonic boom or a sound bomb.
It happened a handful of times while I was at school, and the first time that it happened during a lesson, I ignored the shaking windows, but the second time I stopped the lesson and asked my 5th and 6th grade class, "Hands up - who can tell me what that was?"
Some said that it was indeed a sonic boom from Israeli jets that were flying nearby, and almost everyone agreed. They, just like the people in the city center where I had been enjoying my fufakhina (fruit cocktail), took no notice of these occurrences. One of my students chuckled, looking both amused and somewhat bewildered, and asked, "Are you scared?"
"No," I answered, "I just want to understand why is it happening all the time now?" For this they had no answer.
One child - absolutely certain in his analysis - said, "I know what it is. My dad told me. It's from the... when Israel..." Searching for the words in English, he asked if he could draw on the board. He drew what appeared to be a satellite, and said that Israel was spying on Iran. I'm not sure how satellites play into this scenario, unless the idea is that they're being catapulted into space with such speed that they are breaking the sound barrier.
It's interesting how certain people can be in their many theories about what is going on, and how very little idea I ever have as to what is actually going on. I assume that the majority of the class was correct in their beliefs that these were just regular old sonic booms caused by Israeli jets flying low and fast... although I have yet to figure out why they started occurring with some regularity last week, and then stopped altogether. It seems that they've been a common tactic in the past (http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2005/nov/03/israel) and the not so distant past as well (http://justimage.org/blog/words/2009/02/18/sonic-boom/), although both of these are referring to Gaza. I must say that they are a tinge unsettling, in that perhaps-there-has-been-an-explosion-just-outside-and-we-are-under-attack sort of way.
Over the weekend, I took a short trip over to Jerusalem. It's so interesting passing from one extreme to the other... almost as interesting as how normal it all seems to me now. The extreme difference in quality of life passing from one side to the next, the inconveniences one must go through to travel such short distances... and it's so in-your-face in Jerusalem since the city is divided itself, with the Arab side and the Jewish side. On one side, I feel extraordinarily uncomfortable being heard speaking Arabic or even discussing what it is that I do. On the other, everything looks dirtier and cheaper, but I don't feel that I need to make up a cover story.
I did not begin my touring until Saturday - Shabbat - the Jewish holy day, which means that when I went to the Wailing Wall, I could not take pictures, as this would be offensive to those who keep the Sabbath. I actually just stumbled upon the West Plaza (that's where the wall is) as I was wandering through the old city without a map or any idea of where I was going. As I wound through the crowded stone corridors, passing shop after shop selling the same crap, I found myself approaching a metal detector and guards with guns. This is usually a sign that there's something worthwhile on the other side, so I figured I'd go through.
Once through, I looked to the large sign on the other side of the metal detector, and I read the long and detailed explanation about how it had been declared by rabbis (or a rabbi?) of note that going through a metal detector in this situation was not considered to be breaking the Sabbath. As I emerged from the tunnel, I saw the wall and the West Plaza, and in the center of the plaza was a sign kindly requesting that visitors refrain from taking any actions that would be considered to break the Sabbath by the devout, including smoking, women having uncovered hair, or using a camera. They should have included using a pen, as I found myself being corrected by a kind older woman as I began to write on a piece of paper that I would add to the wall overflowing with requests for God. I put the pen away and quietly gnawed at the cracker I was offered as an opener to the gentle chastisement in Hebrew. I sat there and thought about the people who were placing their prayers in the wall, and wondered if the strictest among them had written their wishes the day before in preparation.
Walking backwards - like you do - I wound my way out of the plaza, laughing on the inside as I saw a woman being loudly corrected for her attempt to use a camera. The woman unfortunately did not understand any of the languages being shouted (Hebrew, English, and body language), and I found the whole scene quite humorous. There were two exits, one to the left and one to the right, leading to the West and the East respectively. I quelled my desire for further exploration and for being around things that look new and clean, and I made my way back East, taking a bus back to Ramallah where I would switch and take another to Nablus. I really wish that I had been able to spend more time in Jerusalem, and I fully intend to in the future. It's a lovely and fascinating city. Those kids aren't going to learn the word "supercalifragilisticexpialidocious" themselves, though, so I had to get back for my one day of teaching before the break.
My new friend: a super-old Spanish lady in the middle of Palestine.
As I waited for the bus to Nablus from Ramallah, I began speaking to some other women who were waiting for the bus to Nablus, and one of them asked me, "Habla español?" It took a few attempts at asking this question for me to register that she was speaking in Spanish… sort of the way that one reacts differently to the taste of orange juice when they are expecting milk, it just doesn't hit you the same initially. It clicked after a moment, and we became fast friends, chatting during our trip back and making plans to meet back in Nablus. She is a weathered but spritely older woman dressed in the abaiya and hijab, and her Spanish incredibly dusty, which leaves us to speak a mixture of Spanish and Arabic, although many a listener – in the bus and on the streets – have asked her in Arabic, "You speak English?" assuming that must be our mutual language. They, too, were not expecting a random Spanish speaking old woman in the middle of the West Bank.
Nenita (that is her Spanish name; her Arabic name is Mariam) deserves more attention than a snippit here, though, and I have babbled enough for one post. I shall continue with tales of salsy misunderstandings, egg pizza and bullet holes later.
For now, here are some random photos to keep you company.
If you want to see some adorable photos of my first graders during their enactment of the Hajj, check out the "Photos" section of my class blog.
If you want to see some adorable photos of my first graders during their enactment of the Hajj, check out the "Photos" section of my class blog.
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| The candle holders I made when my friends ran out of their electricity. You pay for electricity here the way you would purchase minutes on a pre-paid cell phone. This was the solution until they could go fill up their card. |
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| No, it's not a Burger King. It's a Burger Ameer. |
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| I woke up to find this one morning on my fridge. |
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| Look at that tiger one of my first graders drew. That is precious. |
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| And that teddy bear? You're getting a tooth ache, aren't you. |
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| During a rousing game of Never Have I Ever in Jerusalem at the hostel. |
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| Two of our PBS/TFP ladies, Helen and Sara. |
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| Continuation of the hostel games in Jerusalem. |
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| Yeah, that says "F. Z. R. FRiDAY'Z". No, I have no idea what it's supposed to stand for. |
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| Me with my first graders. |
