Getting to Palestine...

I've arrived, which was no small feat in itself. And what an emotional day it has been!

First, a bit of context about me and my ethnic background: My father is an American Jew, my mother a Moroccan muslim, but I grew up a completely secular atheist. I am proud to be both Jewish and Arab, and I love that I represent for many a complete contradiction to all that they know about North Africa and the Middle East. That said, we (my parents and I) have always stood strongly against Zionism and the occupation of Palestine, and building playgrounds for Palestinian children who daily survive the brutality of occupation is a way that I, as a Jew and as an Arab, can fulfill my duty to resist this injustice. My continued involvement with Playgrounds for Palestine connects me to this political context through a humanitarianism lens. I think of my work here as a way to reconnect with the humanity in all Palestinians and all Israelis.

Since I bought my ticket with frequent flyer miles, I had to take a convoluted route to get here, first flying from Philadelphia to Toronto and then from Toronto to Tel Aviv. Philly to Toronto was fine. I was sitting beside a wonderful, interesting woman named Ruth, who often travels to Philly and was very supportive of the work I will be doing here. But the second leg of my trip was very difficult for me. I knew before leaving that upon entry into Israel I would have to pose as a simple Jewish tourist, come to visit the Holy Land, and I had prepared myself for this. However, once I was at the gate waiting for my Air Canada flight to Tel Aviv, I began to feel very overwhelmed. Here I was, surrounded by Jews (it was very clear that almost the entire flight were Jews, many of whom were Hessidic or Orthodox, and I only saw a very handful of Arabs around me) for whom flying to Israel was nothing. These people did not have to worry about being detained or being stopped at checkpoints or, if they were residents of Israel, having their houses bulldozed or taken over by settlers. For them, being allowed into this land is a right that comes with the very fact that they are members of a particular religious group - the dominant religious group. And I had to be one of them for the hour-long layover between my flights, for the 10 hours of my flight, for the time it would take for me to go through immigration and collect my luggage. Pretending to feel a part of this, pretending that going to Israel was a birthright for me merely because I am half Jewish... felt like selling my soul. I have never in all my travels felt so awful about being on a plane to go someplace new. And I have never been so ashamed to acknowledge my Jewish heritage, since doing so in this case felt akin to giving an approving nod to Zionism and the occupation.

As I looked around me at the other passengers, it occured to me that any one of them could be a potential settler, a former or future IDF soldier, an occupier... And I had to keep reminding myself to feel sad for the loss of humanity in them as they take advantage of and daily enact their privilege in this awful context.

On the flight, I was sitting next to a very kind Canadian Jewish couple (from Ottawa, where my in-laws live) about my parents' age. They were very nice to me and I to them. We talked about many things throughout the trip and commiserated about the fact that the controls on our seats (for sound and light) were busted. At one point, they told me about the wedding they were coming to attend and mentioned that tonight is the henna party. I said that henna parties are really nice, and they asked me if I had ever been to one before. I realized at this point that I had slipped up by saying too much, and I told them that I hadn't been to a henna party like this. I eventually had explain that my mother is from Morocco and that's where I had attended henna parties in the past. The husband asked me if my family there was Sephardic, and all I could think to do was mumble something about us being very secular. I felt sad and ashamed that here I was in a place where even telling someone that half my family is Muslim could present problems for me as I entered Tel Aviv posing as a simple Jewish tourist. Later, the couple started asking me what I was going to be doing in Israel and offered many suggestions of all the places I should go. When I showed them my guidebook and pointed out a few possible itineraries that included Bethlehem and necessitated going through the West Bank, the husband pointed to the whole West Bank on the map and said to me, "Oh, don't go in there. There's trouble there. That's where the Arabs are." I almost exploded on him. I sat there, clenching and unclenching my fists where they couldn't see my hands, just to avoid saying something I would regret. Keeping my mouth shut, saying nothing in the face of blatant racism was so awful and alienating. I can't describe the feeling. I felt like a traitor to all the people whose struggles I respect. I am so sorry for using my privilege in this way...

Finally, when the flight was over, I kept a fake smile on my face until I had passed immigration (where they didn't ask me even a single question - ah, the privilege of having a Jewish last name), picked up my one piece of checked baggage (a hiking backpack), and rented a cell phone. When I stopped to ask a man at the information kiosk some directions and he saw my hiking pack, he said to me, "Oh, so are you going to be hiking around Israel?" I wanted to turn around and scream to the whole airport that I was there in solidarity with Palestinians and to stop thinking I was on some kind of birthright trip. Obviously, I didn't. I just said I'd be traveling around to different places, smiled, and walked away. But I felt so distant, so alienated from all that was around me. The worst part about all of it is that none of these people meant to antagonize me. They just don't see how these assumptions are all part of the bigger discourse of Zionism that supports an oppressive state structure and an illegal occupation. They have normalized this behavior to a point at which it is actually strange to even question their underlying assumptions.

Susie, who is wonderful and sweet and is taking care of me so well (ok, Mom, are you happy now that you know your 30-year-old daughter is being taken care of?), had set up a reservation for me at the Mount of Olives hotel, which is in the Arab section of Jerusalem. I took a service (taxi) to Jerusalem and got dropped off at the American Colony hotel, where I got a cab to the Mount of Olives hotel. The picture to the right is just a shot from the road. On the way to Jerusalem, the service stopped to drop off passengers at one after another Jewish neighborhood, where I watched Jewish children so happily coming home from school, walking with their parents, playing together... In the course of this ride that took less than an hour, we drove by at least 8 or 10 beautiful, modern, well-maintained playgrounds in the hearts of these different Jewish communities. I started taking the best pictures I could (two pictures below), as I wanted to share with all of you the stark contrast of what is available to Jewish children and what is available (or, rather, not available) to equally deserving Palestinian children. I was in such a daze as we drove by all of this, but I was so glad to be able to have seen it.



Finally, I arrived in Jerusalem. The second I found my Palestinian cab driver in Jerusalem, I felt at home. Suddenly, people were speaking Arabic to me (though I only understand some of it), and I felt the warmth of connection and solidarity. My entire mood changed completely when I entered that cab. I felt all the stress of the trip, the awfulness of having to pretend I'm someone I'm not, dissipate, and I was completely at ease talking with my driver, Mansour, a kind man who has lived all his life in Jerusalem. Mansour took me to a lookout point a few blocks from my hotel, and I stood where I could see almost all of Jerusalem. He suggested I get out of the cab and just take it all in for a few minutes. When I stood there at the top of this hill, looking out over a city that has existed for thousands of years, I wanted to cry. It was all so beautiful, this city and these Palestinian people who have endured so much for so long and yet do not hesitate to embrace others to let the rest of us in on this treasure. I was overwhelmed with all of it. I am so happy to be here, so glad I came, so excited to work with two communities to build these new playgrounds.

When I got to my hotel, I was greeted with genuine kindness by the man at the desk, who knew my name because he was expecting my arrival (Susie had called ahead). He asked if I would like a room with a view, and I couldn't turn that down! The room he gave me is simple and perfect, and it has a spectacular view of the city. I could not ask for more. Then, the call to prayer started with one mosque and was echoed across the city from minaret to minaret. It felt like Morocco, but even more amazing, because the topography here makes for a wonderfully musical sound as each call seemed to speak in some way to every other. Though I know that this is just the same call to prayer that happens five times a day, every day, in that moment it was like hearing the loudest whisper of the biggest, oldest secret in the world, and, somehow, I was a part of it. I had to call Susie to gush! I will take a picture from my hotel room window tomorrow and post it on the blog, since you all have to see it to believe it.

Once I had settled in my room, I slept and slept. About 6 hours, I think, of the most needed sleep I've ever gotten. Susie picked me up later, and we went back to her cousin's house, where I got to meet some of the most beautiful, terrific children ever. Her cousin's son Mohammed was so playful and fun - I needed that very much today. They were extremely hospitable, and we ate a yummy dinner together. Susie and I got the chance to catch up a little as well. Tomorrow we're going to travel a little together, but we're not exactly sure where we'll be just yet. I look forward to having the time to catch up and reflect with Susie, as she is such a special friend. I also can't wait to meet all the people she keeps telling me about. She does seem to attract the most incredible folks! Tomorrow I'm also going to try to contact Linda's friend Kathy Bergen from the Ramallah Meeting. And tomorrow night Susie and I will be attending a dinner for esteemed Arab writers, so I have the feeling I'm going to be quite overwhelmed again with all the talent that will be surrounding me...

One final note: For any friends or family who need to contact me while I am here, I can be reached on my cell phone at 011-972-50-682-1622. Calls to Israeli cell phones from North America do not cost very much if you have the right phone card. I will also be available by e-mail, though I don't want to spend too much time each day responding to e-mails.