Sunday morning I left most of my luggage but not my baggage at the Dan Boutique Hotel in Jerusalem and caught a taxi to the Muslim side of the Old City to catch a bus ride that would take me to the Jordanian Border. There long lines of Arabs returning to Jordan from Israel were processed through and soon enough I was bused through the Allenby Bridge (King Hussein Bridge on the Jordanian Side of the border), soon to hang out with the lovely and talented Lana Shamma. Lana's away for thirteen months on a Fulbright Scholarship in Amman. We've been best buds since the first day we met, which we think was way back even before orientation for the MPD program, on preview day.
Lana is Palestinian-American and we have worked at our friendship because geopolitics has a nasty habit of intruding. There has been a lot of Palestinian and Lebanese and Israeli blood shed during our friendship, and, it has felt sometimes like a challenge to hold on to each other.
I have never once doubted Lana--I know her belief that an eye for an eye makes the world go blind. It is me that has had to wrestle with some of the results of Israel's actions. My belief in Israel's right to exist and protect her citizens is in direct conflict with my belief that some of Israel's actions are questionable at best.
In any event, we started with the premise that both sides are bloody, both sides are tired, both sides are trapped and both sides need a better way. Lana and I also share the thought that there will never be a true peace, and it makes our friendship even more important to the both of us.
For the record, I believe both Israelis and Palestinians are desperately in need of making this a T shirt war, only to be fought with mostly lame and sometimes funny slogans hanging side by side in some cheesy souk shoppe. Chose your battles in Small, Medium and Large 100% Cotton with minimal --- or in this case, hopefully---maximum shrinkage.
Going to Amman was relatively easy because I did what I always do when I don't know my way around or the language. I found people who were kind enough to guide me to the right lines, the correct paperwork and made sure I got on the right bus. Plus, with this lack of hearing in my right ear, plus not knowing any of the language, trying to navigate around is tough. You HAVE to be fluent in Arabic (which Lana is) to make your way around here, when it really comes down to it. I hate being at that disadvantage.
I shared a ride with a couple of slightly older Americans---that is, because I still think I am a young student---who were fluent in Arabic. From the mountains of Georgia, they've been coming to the Middle East for years, and their cultural and language savvy shows. After dropping me off at the Abdoun Mall, where I continued to indulge my passion for the best coffee blends on the planet, Lana came to fetch me. She looks awesome, and very quickly it was as if no time had passed.
After an amazingly delicious late lunch of Lebanese food at this terrific restaurant---make hummus, not war---we took off late afternoon for Petra, Lana at the wheel of this slightly scary rent-a-car. Along the way we caught up on all that has been going on in our lives---G-CHAT can only cover so much--- these past few months---almost a year really---since Lana left LA. Lana has been touring around the Middle East as much as her time allows, going to Lebanon, and Syria. And, as always, she's found how wrong the American media is in their portrayal of all countries.
Arriving in Petra just after dusk, we checked into the Crown Plaza Petra and grabbed a light dinner before turning in for our big day hiking around.
We intended to get an earlier start than we did---thankfully neither of us are morning people, unless we pull all nighters--and so around ten or eleven or so we finally made it to the Petra gate. We hiked to the Treasury, this spectacular bank vault dug into the mountain, and a few miles further in until my ankle started to give way. So Lana and I bought a couple of rides on Bedouin Ferrari's--otherwise known as really stinky mules, and then hiked the rest of the way out to our hotel. This is where Indiana Jones # 4 was filmed, as many of the souvenir stands really let you know. We crashed by the hotel pool and grabbed a late lunch before heading out back to Amman.
Later that evening, after a serious shower (I am sure I have Petra dust on the brain) at Lana's we headed out to a Chinese acupuncture clinic to see what could be done about my still plugged up ear. The acupuncturist was convinced my neck is to blame. Could be. A few needles and massage and traction later, it did not give way, but the rest of me was relaxed. We had dinner at this home style Palestinian restaurant in downtown Amman, where the maitre'd proposed marriage to me. I love all this attention, really I do, but seriously, what's with the men??? Please, paging Ms Jordan.
Amman is the color of sand, with portraits and posters of King Abdullah everywhere. All the cabs have them tacked up on their windows, in various poses from family man to soldier. The women are either covered in hijab, or niqab. After dark, the women are no where to be seen, while on the streets the men are drinking coffee and playing backgammon.
Jordan is an incredibly poor society, with impossible to comprehend poverty. Its women are subservient and, for Jordan being touted as the more progressive of the Middle East Muslim states, in reality it's not even close to progressive in the ways it needs to be to uplift its people out of their poverty and stupor.
Lana and I talked a lot about Israel, or, in her case, Palestine. Her family's heritage goes back to Haifa and Safed. She wants to go to Jerusalem this weekend, and I am worried about her experience. I would love it if it were easy for her to come to Israel. I want to make sure that Israel does nothing to hurt my friend, and my heart sinks at that thought because I know that she will have to experience the checkpoints in all their hellish detail.
Since this visit to Israel, especially to Jerusalem and the Old City,I am even more convinced that nothing can be done to solve this conflict. To come here is to see how both sides do indeed live side by side, but with emotional and spiritual and psychic fences and walls more dense and impossible to dismantle than anything real either side can and has constructed.
This place needs a John Lennon transfusion. The whole region is neon proof of Karl Marx's statement that Religion is the opiate of the people and pretty much has overdosed into coma.
I believe both sides need to realize how fighting for the same grain of sand because of what was supposedly written thousands of years ago is going to destroy all chance of a future for them all.
I take all of this personally even more this time, with that ongoing schizophrenic response: I want for Israel to be able to live in peace, I want for Palestine to finally achieve statehood and for it and the rest of the Arab world to have the same amazing freedoms and quality of life most Israelis have. More than anything it breaks my heart that what I want most is for my Palestinian friend whom I love and value so much to have Palestine be the same amazing experience for her as Israel has for me on my first journey here, and I know it won't happen, at least this time.
Maybe new Tshirts need to be printed with new messages, ones that spell out exactly what the costs on all sides of this conflict truly add up to be: the body counts, the insane monies spent on weapons and security, years of each number of dead, lives wasted, you get the idea.
No comments:
Post a Comment