Son of a gun...er, shoe.

I talked to a few people about the toy gun incident, and I've found out that during holidays (last week was Eid al-Adha or Feast of the Sacrifice), Palestinian children are given money and they go out and buy these toy guns and play a game similar to "cops and robbers", only it's really "Palestinians and Israelis".


After I got home from that walk, I asked a friend with some military experience, and he told me that it was probably a toy gun-what did he call it? An airsoft gun, and he'd seen a lot of Palestinian kids running around with them lately. He explained to me that they usually have this little plastic orange stopper that indicates that it's not real, but in the moment, who's looking for that orange piece? I probably didn't even notice it.

Then I asked one of my Palestinian friends about it, and he said that it was almost like a tradition as kids to play this game during holidays. Both of them insisted to my skepticism that it was fun. Sure, I guess. Is there that much of a difference between playing with toy guns and playing violent video games? I see a socio-economic difference, but maybe there's a different sense of reality too?

Again, it's such an odd dichotomy because guns are just a part of life in Israel. Here I was shopping at the shouk (like a crazy farmers market) the afternoon before Shabbat, listening to a street-side performance when lo and behold right in front of me: Strange that I can stand so close yet feel so unthreatened.

Also, a lot has happened lately in the Middle East what with President Bush getting shoes thrown at him in Iraq.
I find Minister Maliki's resigned expression when watching the first shoe getting thrown kind of comical.

It's really interesting to get professors' reactions on the shoe-hurling incident, and two of my professors in particular had very different yet both very valid things to say.

The professor of my class for the Modern History of the Palestinians and the professor of my Israeli Foreign Policy class are both extremely respectable and humble individuals with doctorates under their belts and more personal relationships with big names than I can even imagine. Both have also taught many figures of the generation now in power in Middle Eastern politics and will often recall more for their sake than ours how these leaders were as their own students once upon a time.

It's so wonderful to get their often times completely opposite perspectives on the same events or political decisions, and the texts I read for each class offer so many opposing arguments whether they be inflammatory or sometimes they are simply misleading and almost deceitful with the purposeful lack of important details. Ultimately however, neither professor is completely this or that. Neither try to impose his views on us, the students. And both offer criticisms and praise for all parties involved.

My professor for the Palestinian class has close ties with many leaders of the Arab world as well as friendships with Israeli leaders. And my professor of Israeli Foreign Policy tells us personal anecdotes of famous Israeli leaders and once, so unassumingly, mentioned casually how he had gone to give blood with Winston Churchill (the grandson of the more prominent Churchill) while he was visiting Israel as a famous journalist to cover the Six-Day War of 1967.

In my Palestinian history class today, we discussed the first Intifada in '87 and the consequentially changed educational system of Palestinian youth. Up until the first Intifada, the Palestinian people did not have control over their own education-they could not contribute to the content, the curricula, or the agenda being imposed on their children. With the Israeli shutting down of schools during the Intifada, "popular teaching" arose with the Palestinization of education.

This education was informal, and because of the lack of textbooks, Palestinian youth were taught with the media available at that time. The media was dominated by political material that focused on resistance and encouraged mobilization and often radicalization. Thus, you have the politicization of youth.

(interesting video on current methods of introducing politics in youth culture and Farfour)

My professor brought up the infamous flying shoes, and told us how his Palestinian students at Al-Quds University had been so excited by this story and revered the shoe-thrower, Mr. Zaidi as a hero of the people. Instead of praising this act, my professor lamented the lack of education people were showing by deeming Zaidi's action as heroic. This lack of education he believed stemmed from this twisted form of education that began from the first Intifada.

He told us that he asked his Palestinian students what Zaidi had accomplished by throwing his shoes at the President when he missed both times, and ultimately, the meeting continued as usual. They answered that even though Zaidi missed, the shoe had hit the flag behind the President when Bush ducked. This was insult to America enough. Honestly, I didn't even notice. My professor angrily said that if he were the reporter, he would ask the question, "Aren't you ashamed to be in Iraq, Mr. President?" He believed that would have been more effective.

And again, playing "cops and robbers" with "Palestinians and Israelis"-another example of the politicization of youth.

In contrast, when my Israeli Foreign Policy professor brought it up in class today and a few chuckles erupted from the lecture hall, he angrily told us that it was not a funny matter. He said that as an Israeli, he was so insulted by such an uncivilized act towards the President of the United States. He reminded us that whether we liked him or not, Bush is still the President of the most powerful country in the world, and you are not. That should mean something to everyone.

Anyway, when I first read about this, I was impressed with President Bush, as I usually find myself with the charmingly self-mocking yet gracious way he is able to get himself out of uncomfortable/embarrassing situations.

Dangerous Tomfoolery

I have a problem.
I need to stop being so foolhardy.



On Wednesdays, I end class by noon.

Instead of mulling about in my room wasting time by taking extended naps and reading random blogs or laying outside on the grass to watch the clouds roll by, today, I decided to be a little less sedated than usual and be a little more adventurous.

I found this wonderful site: www.jerusalemp3.com where you can download mp3 files for self-guided walking tours throughout Jerusalem. I downloaded the Mount of Olives tour because it begins right by the university campus, and it includes many Christian pilgrimage sites that I've wanted to visit but never got around to doing.

After a quick glance at the map, I decided the route was straightforward enough, and if it wasn't I could probably find my way with signs. I took my routine nap and set out at around 3 PM with my mp3 blaring away in my ears and a taser my brother got for me from his travels in Cambodia tucked safely in my pocket.

-----
Since I've been in Jerusalem, I've heard from several Israelis as well as other Rothberg students who've been heckled around here that walking around East Jerusalem is not safe.

But whenever I hear someone say that he/she would never walk even to the Arab quarter of the Old City or around East Jerusalem because he/she is Israeli or a Jew, I always scoff a little at their exaggerated fear.

To be quite honest, a lot of the time, this fear seems completely unjustified and exacerbated by group-think bordering on collective hysteria.

For instance, my friend's Israeli roommate unabashedly stated that she was afraid to study at the Mount Scopus campus of Hebrew U because there are so many Arab students. She must not know that almost all of them are Arab-Israelis, and I can safely say that none of them are terrorists.

Or my Israeli friend who was appalled that I would consider going to Ramallah to watch a once-in-a-lifetime hip hop concert because it's so dangerous (should I have put that in quotes?)- and I didn't even end up going because the person I was supposed to go with was too nervous.

Every time I hear someone say something like this, I think, what a terrific job the media has done to portray Arabs and Palestinians as villains.

Even so, I too have had a bad experience around East Jerusalem on a nightly run when I was chased by two men screaming at me in Arabic. So just as a precaution, I tested my taser before embarking on my tour and felt more confident every time I felt it bump against my hand. Of course, I have never used it and hope I will never have to.
-----

I took the route that I used to run to get to the starting point of the tour, and it was the first time I'd been back since the incident I just described. I got to the second site no problem, but then I somehow ended up somewhere I didn't feel completely comfortable in. I was in a part of East Jerusalem I'd never ventured before, but I knew I couldn't have taken a wrong turn-there was nowhere to turn towards!

I fingered my taser as I walked through a dillapidated Arab village and scolded myself for feeling nervous. On my right was a muddy plot with two horses that I decided must be a soccer field because I noticed two rusting metal contraptions that served as goals, and there were kids and teenagers hanging around in groups waiting for their turn to ride two horses milling about the field.

The streets and stores were relatively empty for the afternoon (though now I'm realizing that it's a Muslim holiday week), but there were a few kids running around and some grandfathers walking with their grandchildren.

Of course I stuck out in this scanty crowd, but I would not allow myself to turn around. I would not be a coward and reconfirm their incredulity and admit that I did not belong. I held my head high and kept walking down the street ignoring the men calling out of their speeding cars asking if I was lost or needed help.

Even if I was lost, I would not satisfy anyone's claims that I was turning around because I was afraid to be walking in an Arab neighborhood that was certainly no Ben-Yehuda promenade. I would debunk the "all Arabs are terrorists" myth and prove to myself and anyone else that East Jerusalem is perfectly safe.

Then I stopped dead in my tracks and whirled around gasping an "ohmygod" under my breath.

About 30 feet in front of me, a group of teenage boys shoved another boy against a gate as another boy (who I had passed by earlier) put a gun to his head.

Mid-turn I saw him pull the trigger and heard a faint pop that definitely could not have belonged to a real gun. Regardless, I wondered frantically to myself if that were a real gun, was I really trying to walk away nonchalantly? If he wanted to shoot me, I wouldn't have been able to dodge the bullet.

They must have noticed my abrupt movement and started calling out to me. My hotheaded pride kept me from running, but it also kept me from responding to them.

As I speed-walked back the way I came, I noticed that there were still young children running around and parents with their kids. Even reassessing the situation and realizing that what I had just witnessed was probably a game or prank at best and a sick example of bullying at its worst, I was shaken. Then I was disappointed with myself that I did not even consider helping the victim.

On the walk home my frustration was heightened by an unwanted suitor. I was upset that I had turned around without even reattempting to find the third site of the tour. I was angry that I had validated the fear of East Jerusalem and reconfirmed that as a woman, I should not walk around by myself. And most of all, I was disenchanted with the violence that has pervaded and become the norm in Palestinian youth culture.

No wonder then, that the hip hop artists I've met through my internship are so earnest in their claim that the mic is their weapon of choice.


A picture I took of toy guns for street-side sale in Turkey against the backdrop of a mosque.

Relevant note: gun-toting soldiers and security guards (sometimes in civilian clothes) are the norm in Israel. I think the only reason why gun-toting teens and young boys disturb me so much is because a gun is not and should never be mistaken as a child's toy.

Culture Shock

": (n.) a sense of confusion and uncertainty sometimes with feelings of anxiety that may affect people exposed to an alien culture or environment without adequate preparation."
For those of you abroad right now, going abroad next semester, or ever find yourself in any new destination in life.



It's been a little over four months since I've been abroad. I'm in the midst of classes, and it's my last month to explore Israel since I spent most of the breaks exploring the rest of the Middle East.

I just got back from a weekend down in Eilat, and you might remember my time in Eilat from my crossing the borders into Egypt and then into Jordan. Though this time, it was more of this:

























and less of that:.














I had planned to readjust my sleeping patterns one of these weekends, but after this past weekend, my internal clock is now set on east coast time. Waking up for my 8:30 AMs this week will be a little less than enjoyable.



Before I left for Eilat, I had a very odd revelation that was so obvious, yet took me so long to realize.

In my internship class, we were lectured on the job environment in Israel, and the subject of culture shock was brought up.

The teacher had a long list of the signs of culture shock, and four of them stuck out to me as being especially pertinent to my experience in Israel (although I recognized almost all the signs):

1) unwarranted criticism of the culture, behaviors, and people
2) heightened irritability with the way things are done














3) an extreme desire to speak with someone who "makes sense"
4) a refusal or unwillingness to learn the language

The others included things like: feeling shy or insecure, questioning your desire to move to this place, anti-social behavior, and fear of meeting locals.

Anyway, the revelation I had was that what I was feeling the very first month in Israel was culture shock. (!)

Okay, yes, you're probably shaking your head and thinking "duh?", but to me, this was huge.


I really didn't expect to get culture shock in Israel. First of all, on the surface, Israel seems very much westernized and has the most western of sensibilities of all the Middle Eastern countries because of its close ties to the US. I guess I almost expected it to be very American just everyone spoke Hebrew in addition to English. Secondly, since I have traveled around out of the country several times before with home-stays and shorter study abroads, I didn't think I would be unable to easily embrace a new culture and society anyway.

Looking back at my earliest (angry) posts and remembering how much I used to grumble about going to summer Ulpan and how often I would lament having Hebrew replace my Arabic in comparison to now, how Hebrew class is often my favorite class of the day, I realize that all that I was feeling then: dissapointment, irritation, frustration, anger, disillusionment, homesickness, all of that was a part of culture shock.

When I reread that one post that caused such a hubbub among my family and friends, I can laugh about it because it represents the apogee of my culture shock. I finally can understand where the hell that extreme misery came from. From that point on, I was able to move on to stage four: the autonomy stage.

Now, I can't imagine having studied abroad anywhere else. Israel was never on my list of places to go, and it definitely never crossed my mind as a destination to study abroad in, but I'm so glad that because of a random suggestion in passing, I'm now here in Jerusalem.

There are still times when I'll smile to myself because some Hebrew words sound like English said with an Italian accent (e.g. spetsifi = specific, deit = date). And often things don't make too much sense (like when my Hebrew teacher was describing a new vocabulary word and explained, "It's a square so basically it's a circle." Didn't you know?
Or the confusion on my friend's cousin's face who came from the States to visit this weekend at the novelty that sometimes she couldn't order what was on the menu because the restaurant simply didn't have it. Why would the restaurant have what was on the menu?).

But now, instead of getting upset, I've come to enjoy and appreciate these quirky aspects of Israel. It's almost charming. Ha kol biseder. (= It's all good.) And I know that when I go home, and reverse culture shock sets in, I know I'll miss hearing Hebrew, and things will be weird because you know, they'll just make too much sense.

I'm grateful that although the lecture on culture shock came after four months of my being here after I had already gone through all the stages of assimilation, it's better late than never. After all, it would have been too logical to lecture us on culture shock soon after arrival. It's funny to me that I write this post so late into my being here, but I guess now I can better understand my initial experience in retrospect.