Our class just got back into
the city today, and I am exhausted. Israel
is beautiful, and we all wish we could have stayed longer. It was an amazing trip, with so much packed
into such a short timeframe.
We each have to write a major
feature story, and I’m writing about non-violent resistance. Not about whether it’s good, bad, needed, or
even helpful, but simply about how it’s being done and who’s doing it. [A
reporter] from the Global Post had
suggested to our class that someone write on that topic, so I decided to.
I wanted a variety of perspectives,
and had already spoken with some Israeli Jews and some Palestinian Christians
and Muslims. Since we had free reporting
time in Jerusalem this past Friday evening and Saturday during the day, I
figured it would be a good time to interview Arabs, as most Jews would be
observing Shabbat.
Friday night I walked along Salaheddin
Street in East Jerusalem, where there were many Arab shopkeepers. I met “Abdul,” who spoke a little English and
when I told him what I was writing about, he took me driving with a few of his
friends. They took me to Sheikh Jarrah,
where I had been last Friday for the protest, and showed me houses they
said were “Arab houses, taken by Jews.”
As a journalist, I have to
get each side’s perspective honestly and accurately, and of course, verify what
people say, and still do my own research.
But my story isn’t going to discuss who is right or wrong (or half-right
or half-wrong), but how is non-violent protest carried out, etc.
But more than trying to help me
with my story, my new Arab friends told me that they wanted me to have fun
here, my last Friday night in Jerusalem. They took me up to Mount Scopus to see
the view of the city at night. They
showed me the BYU Jerusalem Center, since I told them I was Mormon.
Abdul and his friends kept
asking me if I wanted to drink, and I would tell them no. Since I’m Mormon, they asked if that’s why I
don’t drink, and they said they are Muslim, but they still drink! But I told
them I’ve never had any interest in drinking regardless of my religion. They never pressured me to drink, but they
said they didn’t want to be rude and drink in front of me, but I said it was
fine, as long as the guy driving didn’t drink too much.
They wanted me to get the
experience of Arabs in Israel, so they offered to show me around more
neighborhoods, and they took me to get falafel sandwich. They wanted to pay for
it and I thanked them but said that in journalism, I couldn’t accept free
meals. They said they would be offended
if I didn’t accept it. I again said I wanted to be ethical, but they said they would
be deeply offended, and so I accepted the falafel.
This reminded me of last
summer in 2010 when I was getting acquainted with my class reporting beat, and
met the Arab owners of a grocery store in a predominantly black and Jewish
neighborhood. The owners wanted to give
me bottled water and make me a sandwich from their deli, and at first I thanked
them but declined, then I finally accepted. I am aware of how hospitable are
those in Arab lands, but I didn’t want to be unethical as a journalist. Each
situation you have to just weigh. The
grocery store owners were such gracious hosts, as were my new Arab friends in
East Jerusalem.
After we ate, Abdul and his
friends took me to a hookah bar. I was
the only female in the entire place, but no one appeared bothered that I was
there. My friends sat and played cards
and smoked hookah, offering me some, though I declined. But I had fun just being around them. The owners of the hookah bar were very
respectful, allowing me to use their own restroom (there were living quarters
behind the customer area) instead of the customer restroom, since there was
only one public restroom and all the customers were men.
The next morning Abdul took
me to breakfast with one of his friends, and again I accepted breakfast after
first refusing it. This friend, “Ahmad,”
spoke very good English, so I was able to have more of a conversation with
him. My conversations Friday night were
limited with almost everyone I met, and indeed with Abdul, who was introducing
me to everyone, because their English wasn’t strong and my Arabic is non-existent,
unfortunately.
Nearly all the Arabs I spoke
with were Israeli citizens, most of whom had Jordanian passports, but they told
me they identified as Palestinian. Ahmad
said flatly, “Palestinian in everything.”
I have studied but still don’t
fully understand all of the dynamics, all the histories, of the
Israeli-Palestinian conflict. I know each side has its own narrative, and facts
on the ground can get emphasized or diminished, depending on the objective.
However, in the simple part
of my mind, I think that Arabs and Jews should most definitely be friends. Not least because Abraham is their common
ancestor, through Ishmael for the Arabs and Isaac for the Jews. Though perhaps the close ties and diverging
paths engender more enmity.
Whenever I think of Jews and
Arabs, I’m reminded of the people in The
Book of Mormon - the Nephites and the Lamanites. Brothers Nephi and Laman, sons of Lehi, an
Israelite. They all emigrated from Jerusalem
to “the promised land” – in the Americas.
Laman and his brother Lemuel resented Nephi, who was the good boy, and
tried to kill him. After their father
died, Laman and Lemuel drove Nephi and their other brother Sam and their
families out of “the land of their first inheritance.”
Thus the “Nephites” and
“Lamanites” separated, and their descendants hated each other. Told from the
Nephite perspective (and it would be interesting to read the Lamanite side),
the Book of Mormon characters talk of
the Lamanites believing the traditions of their fathers - that the Nephites
hate the Lamanites, and so the Lamanites want to destroy the Nephites. After hundreds of years, the Lamanites killed
off all the Nephites (except Moroni, who wrote the final pages of the Book of Mormon).
I don’t suggest that The Book of Mormon is analogous to the
Israeli-Palestinian conflict – it’s not.
For one thing, Nephi and Laman shared the same mother, but there are
many more differences beyond that. And I’m not saying that one side represents
the Jews and the other the Palestinians, or Arabs in general. But the
similarity that always strikes me is that both sides, descendants of the same
father, thought the other hated them.
Ahmad told me Saturday
morning that “if you invite a Jewish person for coffee here, he would not come
in.” Is that really true, or is that
what they’ve been taught to think?
In another conversation with
Ahmad, he said that if Israel ended the occupation and there were two states, “Israel
would be more happy.” Now, I know it’s not as simple as that, as there are many
issues regarding borders, etc., and I want Israel to be secure, but if all of
that could be agreed upon, I think Ahmad is right.
Just as it’s better for each
person to be on friendly terms with his neighbor, and each of us has to
compromise as we navigate this social world, the same goes for nations. It’s in everyone’s interest and in every nation’s interest for all
nations and people to be stable, secure, happy. Both the Israeli people and the Palestinian people need to compromise,
and it’s in their own best interests to do so.
Plus, in my own experience,
I’ve found that the more I get to know someone, the more I care for them. Yes, as we know people better we expose our
deficiencies in a greater manner and we better know others’ quirks. But this vulnerability also allows us to
humanize each other. To really want the
best for each other.
I think most people are basically
good, if flawed, people. Last week on
our trip a member of Hamas spoke to our class.
In his talk to us, he said he didn’t believe in killing innocent people,
but reiterated the need for Palestinians to defend themselves from their enemy
Israel. As one who remembers reading
with horror about suicide bombings during the Second Intifada, which truly
haunted and angers me, to this day, even, I knew as a journalist I still needed
to listen to all sides, even though I will never condone anyone encouraging someone to be a suicide bomber and kill innocent civilians.
I had a very good, rational,
enjoyable conversation with him after his speech, and I got his contact
information so I could meet with him for lunch next time I’m in Israel. I recalled how, minutes earlier in his speech
to our class, he had tried to deflect a question from one of my classmates
about whether he thought the Holocaust happened or not, and finally admitted
that he thought it did happen, but he didn’t know if 600 people or 6 million people
were killed. Somehow it seemed that it
was preferable for him to ignore facts in order to keep his ideology strong.
Everyone on this trip has
been a joy for me to speak with. We met
rabbis, Palestinian priests and nuns, Muslim Sheikhs, a Qadi (Sharia law judge
– Israel has Sharia courts for Muslims) in Jerusalem, many everyday citizens in
Israel, Jewish and Arab, many people in the West Bank, and a Palestinian
Christian non-profit leader who is probably the most compassionate man I’ve
ever met in my entire life.
I’m of many minds. But I am not naïve and I know some people
hate others simply because of their race or nationality or religion. I know some countries hate other
countries. And I know fault is not equal
in all situations – there are often truly aggressors and victims, and sometimes
they switch places.
I don’t have any answers but
I can honestly say I generally like most people (some people annoy me, and some
people I like more than others!). But even
people I don’t like as much I don’t want bad things to happen to them. I really want the best for everyone. That includes me.
How does this end? I don’t know, but I know
how I don’t want it to.
