Tag Archives: Jerusalem

Time we had a little talk Mr. Freedom of Speech.

It’s time we had a little talk. Yes, you, little Mr. Freedom of Speech. Mr. I’ll say anything I please, wet my bed, consequences be darned. You little Borat, you. The Williamses are coming over, and I want you to promise you won’t use that word we talked about. You are too young to understand this now, but one day you will. Perhaps you will visit New York. And in Harlem, say, right outside St. Nicks you are going to shout the N-word at the top of your lungs. If you’re anything like your daddy, I know you’ll want to.

If you have any money or teeth left, you might buy yourself a ticket to Tel Aviv. Let’s just say it’s a place far, far away. Perhaps you will hop on a funny little bus to Jerusalem, like baby Jesus did. Take a stroll around the orthodox neighbourhood wearing freedom pants that expose your god-given right to tanned knees. No need to say anything really. No need to light up what mommie and daddy call a doobie to get stoned either. Please take your feet off the couch, honey. It’s not because you CAN stand on an expensive leather antique that you have to do it. You will learn this when you grow up. Or maybe not.

And no, you cannot drive the car until you are eighteen years old. You want to watch some more Mickey Mouse? You love cartoons, don’t you. Cartoons are funny, and easy to understand. But you have to know something, honey. When Pluto, or Goofy, of whatever they’re called, are hit by a truck, they really should be dead. Likewise, when you cross the street, we’d like you to be very careful. Not everybody is as smart and prudent as yourself.

Speaking of prudent, a pederast is– we’ll explain later. Let’s just say you want to stay away from Catholic priests. Now, your aunt Barbara is very religious, but she is okay. Luckily the newspaper people don’t generalize about white people. Perhaps it’s good to know that in the seventh century… ugh. Let’s just say things were very different when mommy and daddy were your age. And when your grandma’s grandma’s grandma’s grandma was your age, things were pretty terrible everywhere. People didn’t grow very old. And… There were lots of wars, terrible diseases, people blaming other people for everything that was going wrong, especially if they owed you money. A bit like… well, today. Honey, did you spill orange juice on the carpet?

No, I’m not angry like those people you saw on TV.. I told daddy not to let you watch the news. How do I explain this? A government is a bit like your mommy and daddy. We work to have a house, and eat and buy some nice things, and the rest we give to you. You don’t always understand all the strange things we do, so we tell you a simple story to explain the difficult thing. Mostly we prefer to just put you in front of the television. You watch a simple version of what grownups call ‘re-a-li-ty’. Sometimes it’s almost true. Very often it isn’t. People who are really angry on TV are mostly actors, or poor people who are getting paid to help governments or people who also want to play government get a point across. Only few can tell the difference. They are called a scientist.

Scientists say funny things. And they are always investigating stuff like chemicals, planets, electric things, or Muslims. Some say none of these things really exist, that matter is just a form of energy and ‘Muslim’ is like a group name for more than a billion very different people. Like Christian, or Jew, or left-handed. It means everything and nothing at the same time, subscribing fully to Heisenberg’s Principle of Uncertainty. You either look at the thing as a whole, or you look at the individual. The more you zoom in on the particle, the less you know about the group. And the more you zoom out, the less likely you can say anything meaningful. Not to mention, your observation fundamentally influences the observed. It is very complicated. For now, just remember to eat with your mouth closed, wash your hands, and –oh, there goes the bell. Remember what I told you! Try to act like a grown-up. Then again. Perhaps not.

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Filed under Belgium, Christianity, Islam, Israel, Judaism, Middle East, Revolution, seismic changes, Sinai

A lot to learn..

Egypt’s parliament dissolved. “What is this, 19th century Europe?” I said to Jalal. “Dissolving is not a solution.” Then again, maybe it is. I never paid much attention in high school chemistry. Jokes aside, it’s not like the parliament was very active. In fact, the Brotherhood was fast losing street cred over its elected members’ laisser-gouverner attitude. “There’s something fishy about the whole thing,” Jalal opined. Lord knows who’s plotting what against whom. Is Mubarak’s heir apparent Shafiq planning to rule by decree should he win today’s presidentials? Will a Mursi Brotherhood victory overturn the high court’s decision, further complicating the constitutional quagmire?

Lord knows I haven’t a clue. Egyptians are slogging it the hard way it seems. As is their right. But what is right in the stark floodlight of might, be it noun or verb? If all this sounds confusing it’s because your humble host has been evaluating French development aid to Palestine, drinking too much coffee, and sleeping way too little. This aid business is a tough racket. I’m not even talking about the deserving, downtrodden beneficiaries. Of which, one hastens to add, there are many. Just ask the sandwich guy catering the workshops, board meetings, steering committees, wrap-up sessions, and focus groups. Cynicism aside, these things are unavoidable, if at times a bit annoying. A bit like Parisians when the rent is late, if you’ll excuse my French.

What has all this to do with Egypt, or the Sinai, you may ask? Well, the Hebrews crossed the latter before falling on the Canaanites, did they not? And, if I may quote the ever grandiose Lebowski: “Given the nature of all this new shit, that, uh, instead of running around blaming me, this whole thing might be a whole lot more uh, uh complex. It might not be, you know, just such a simple– You know?”

I blame the coffee. Especially the iced derivative so liberally domed with whipped cream by Jerusalem’s Austrian Hospice’s hirelings. And if not the coffee, I’ll denounce time itself, or the scruffy cat at the restaurant that may or may not have been a shapeshifting time traveler from the Andromeda Galaxy bent on inter-civilizational tomfoolery. Did I mention it’s 35 degrees in the shade? Perhaps the Temple Mount security people were temporarily suffering from melting eyeball syndrome (unknown in medical circles as M.E.S.) when they unwittingly let a certain falafel sandwich-munching foreigner onto the grounds this afternoon. Relaxing in the shade, watching kids kick around a pigskin,  parents relaxing hither and tither, I could feel ten days of endless, horribly essential palaver subside.

“Muslim, in sh’Allah?” the waqf guy inquired politely. “No,” I answered in truth. Just a person looking around, trying to learn a thing or two about this crazy place we call the world, understanding ever less.

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Filed under Arab Spring, Christianity, Egypt, Islam, Middle East, Palestine, Sinai

North of Sinai

‘Sinai’ is a book about the Arab Spring, or an imagined aftermath thereof. Last year’s revolution didn’t leave a single Arab nation untouched. That is, except the lands north of Sinai, commonly called Israel and Palestine, or as some would have it, Israel or Palestine. Formerly region-wide champions of the Arab cause, Palestinians seem to have decided to sit this one out. Or have they?

The problem perhaps is one of fact mixed with perception. The context is entirely different and no, Palestinians on the whole have not attempted to overthrow the Palestinian Authority, let alone the Israeli government which, unelected by the 3,5 million Palestinian inhabitants of the West Bank and Gaza, controls their lives more than ever. But Palestinians have been and still are protesting every week against the barbed-wire fences occasionally cutting them off from the objects of their rabid hatred, but mostly just from other Palestinians and agricultural lands. A mass prisoner hunger strike, hardly reported about in the West, challenged Israel’s system of detaining men, women, and adolescents for years without charges.

After living in Ramallah between 2004-08 and briefly visiting in the summer of 2010, I’m currently back in the holy land, the land of milk and cookies, I mean, honeys. In the coming weeks I will be in Jerusalem, Ramallah, Hebron, Bethlehem, and Gaza, more than a little curious to take the pulse of this contentious sliver of beautiful dirt. I’m looking forward to some fresh ‘taboon’ bread with olive oil and za’tar spice, a dip in Ramallah’s legendary Snobar pool, and let’s not forget -let’s not forget!- a fresh pint of Taybeh beer. Yes, Palestinians drink beer. They also wear bikinis, short skirts, dance, have jobs, and enjoy life. You might have picked that up from the umpteenth ‘astounded’ journalist reporting from the fancy nightlife of Bethlehem and Ramallah, which is only a problem of perception if it’s quasi the only thing say, the BBC, reports about.

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Filed under Arab Spring, Middle East, Palestine, Revolution, seismic changes