Time to sit and think

Come join in this experience with me. Moments ago the electricity (and internet) returned, for the fourth time, after going dark for about 30 seconds each time. I'm sitting comfortably on a bed in a room of white sandstone walls, and a window open behind me that allows me to hear and occasionally look out on the efforts of some loud but well-meaning Palestinian men attempting to put up a big string of lights back and forth across the small, ancient Jerusalem street. Each time the electricity goes out, a chorus of shouts replaces it until the light comes back on. I wondered briefly why they are putting up lights, until I realized it's just about time for Ramadan to begin. How lovely to share in this moment that might, for us, compare to all the fond memories of frustration over Christmas lights.

I've had quite a remarkable few days, and far too much has been packed into it to relate it all. It has consisted of several cold showers (I successfully conversed with the repair man in Hebrew about it, and he could not figure out why we were getting cold water - so it never got fixed), lots of beautiful desert vistas, bedouin tents and discussions about bedouin rights and life, peeling skin from a foolish afternoon in the hot, Jerusalem sun, and my first paper presented at an Israel Studies conference. This is just a sampling. It has also consisted of dragging my big suitcase (I MUST learn to pack lighter for 6 weeks in Israel!) up and down the streets and stairs of the old city, arriving this afternoon at the highly-recommended hostel, only to realize I made my reservations for tomorrow - so for tonight, I had to fork out big bucks for a single room (but it is rather luxurious, I must say!).

Since I can't possibly share everything from the past few days, I'll comment on a few things. As I sat in the early morning market last Saturday, I had the wonderful experience of just sitting and people-watching. It was mostly Palestinians and Orthodox Jews walking in and out of Damascus gate, and just sitting quietly and watching, eating my breakfast of sesame bread with salty spices, was a treat. I noticed a few interesting things. First, Palestinian men of various ages push their carts full of wares to sell in the market, they have a clever little technique to brake them. Dangling from the bottom of the cart, just below where the man's feet are walking, is a small, old rubber tire. Not the tube, mind you, but the tire. I was intrigued by this, until I realized that they stood on this to slow the heavy cart down quickly, or when they're going down hill (Jerusalem is mighty hilly!). Brilliant!

I also observed a moment that disturbed me a bit. Two Israeli police men were coming down into the market as three young Palestinian men/boys (one must have been about 13, the other two 16-17) were walking out. The police men stopped them, and they appeared to be having a friendly conversation. This, I thought, is encouraging. But then I saw the three young men turn around, complaining but not resisting, and saying something about "beit-sefer," or school. The group of them walked into the city together. Now, I have no idea what went down there. I don't know if they were targeted because they're Palestinians and of a trouble-making age (although, I have seen several police walking around and no one seems to even bat an eye generally), or whether they really had been making some trouble somewhere. But it caused me to ponder. I just don't know the situation, and it bothers me that I don't know whether that moment was one of minority oppression that is so often talked about in Israel. In other words, I didn't feel as if I could totally trust that those police men were in the right. But nor could I trust that the Palestinians were either. This moment epitomized the way I feel about the conflict: everyone has a narrative; everyone is right, and everyone is wrong.

The next day, however, I got the chance to witness a much more encouraging scene. (As I type this, the evening prayer call has begun to sound loudly outside. I always find it to be such a haunting music, especially when multiple voices join in the call. It is also lovely and melodic.) I was sitting outside the bus station at a miserably early time (I had to leave my hostel by 5 am to catch a bus down to Beer Sheva for the conference, if that gives you any indication), waiting for my friend Gangzheng to join me. As I sat, chewing on my breakfast yet again, I saw a woman across the street with a rod in front of her, feeling her way along. I realized she was blind, and she kept bumping the stick into the bench across the way, and then the tree next to the bench. She couldn't find the way around it. I wanted to run over and help her, but I didn't feel I could leave my luggage sitting there. I was saved by a young man, who might have seemed a rowdy punk by his hair and clothes, who ran over and took her by the arm and guided her around the obstacle. Then he stayed with her for quite a few minutes to make sure she got on the right bus.

I love to see plain, unselfish goodness in the world.

A final story. Saturday I went to church at the BYU Jerusalem Center. My Chinese friend Gangzheng had expressed interest in going with me, so we walked up the Mount of Olives together (literally, from Damascus gate, across Kidron Valley, and up the mountain - hence the sunburn!) and arrived hot and sweaty. I was dismayed to learn, however, that he could not attend the services, nor even enter the premises: he is not a member of the Church. Now, I know very well about the Church's non-proselyting agreement, but I did not know that meant that NO ONE that is not a member of the Church, not even when they're from another country, can come. I was so upset, it was difficult to enjoy the services. He was allowed in the building, and spent Sacrament Meeting in the foyer reading. He was really good about it, even when, afterward, we were told we also couldn't walk around the grounds until Church was over, in two hours. Being from China, he is quite familiar with religious restrictions. Being from America, I was good and angry! But we went and visited the Hebrew University just down the road, then walked back and visited the gardens. I had prayed during the meeting to have my heart softened about what I considered a great mis-judgment of the Church's agreement with the Israeli government, and I will say that, while I still think the whole thing is far overdone, I was at peace by the end.

Well, 45 minutes later, and the string of lights outside is still stubbornly dark. There are at least 15 men talking (loudly), trying to get it to work. With any luck, I'll be able to sleep anyway. And with any luck, soon I'll be able to upload photos! Until then...