Sunday, December 28, 2008

Remembering the Innocents

I woke up startled from a mid-afternoon nap yesterday (Saturday) when I heard shouting and sirens from the street outside. I quickly opened the window, only to realize that this house has a high stone wall as a backyard, protecting it from the road and giving no view of the current situation. Texting my friend, I decided it best to stay inside until I figured out the problem. A little while later, a call from Tyler who had been across the street playing frisbee relieved my anxiety. There had been a car wreck but fighting had not broken out and calm was more or less restored. I waited a while longer and then was invited to go over to the Brown's residence. Mark Brown oversees things at Augusta Victoria (Jerusalem) with the Lutheran World Federation. So I walked across the street to find Tyler and company gathered at this house where we often met for volleyball games, advent meals, and a good time. Susanna Brown and some helpers were working on nachos and I went upstairs to see folks who had come. It was quite a few of us altogether.

Then I noticed the TV. Airstrikes in Gaza. It had begun. Everything started making sense. I was in shock but I could now understand the problem outside: a Palestinian Jerusalemite had run his car, presumably deliberately, into an Israeli police officer who was stopping vehicles just outside the hospital. Originally, I thought this was a sad, isolated event, but then I realized that it was quite likely related to the bombing of Gaza by Israel's air forces. We were transfixed by the news a long time, distressed and saddened by the ever more gruesome stories unfolding. Over 200 dead and many many wounded. Of course, since the hospitals in Gaza had not been allowed any supplies for weeks, they were ill equipped for the injured. I too was surprised by the Sabbath day attack which coincided with the Muslim New Year's Eve.
What could we do? I realized anew the helplessness I often feel in light of such enormous situations. We all knew Israel was planning a military response to Hamas' rockets in southern Israel. But what aggression! 100 tons of bombs in only a few minutes. Schools were letting out. A Gazan rocket hit and killed a woman in Israel while many Israeli bombs killed hundreds of Gazans. Such senseless loss of life. Innocent people dead, people I now come to identify with in this beautiful land. I heard that a march was going on in Bethlehem and from what I could tell many Palestinians in the West Bank were responding to the Gazan attacks.

So Sunday came after a long night and I headed to church at Redeemer on what is known as "Dead Sunday" for its lack of attendance. There were a fair number of us though and I soon discovered that the day is known as the day for "Commemoration of the Holy Innocents"--a memorial of the Massacre described in Matthew, where King Herod orders all babies in Bethlehem and around killed to eliminate the threat of a Jewish Messiah figure. I am not sure what sort of historical basis, if any, there is, but Pastor Mark suggested that about 20 infants or more may have been killed. This theme, which gets recognized on a Sunday once in 7 years, struck an extremely emotional chord in me today. How fitting that we remember those who die as a result of indiscriminate violence today when bombs and rockets rain over Gaza/south Israel. Hundreds of Gazan Palestinians are dying and I imagine more Israelis will die before it's all over.

The liturgy, though recited by sympathetic figures who know the pain we feel today, is almost unbearable. How could it be okay to God for so many people to suffer and die innocently? The first reading centers on Rachel crying for her children who will one day be avenged and return to their country--the psalm emphasizes the victorious Israelites who declare that God is on their side. Such scriptures (read here)
are impossible for me to reconcile to an all-loving God. How can God be only on one side? How can only one group be chosen? The Bible remains a mystery to me in this regard, especially since many are more than happy to use such passages to determine whose side God is on!

Pray with me for the people here--all the people Israeli, Palestinian, and others who are intricately connected to this place. Pray for an end to the bombing, an end to rocket launching, an end to the violence. Pray that ground troops are not sent in, that medicines and food do get in to Gaza. Pray that people's actions in solidarity do not bring more violence. I am not in danger. I am not sure how Palestinians will continue to react to the crisis in Gaza but for now it means marches and strikes. While I am far from the bombing, the pain feels close at hand. Pray that the pain and suffering will be over soon.  Remember the Innocents who are dying today and everyday.



Posted by Kimberly MacVaugh at 08:46:01 | Permanent Link | Comments (3) |

Christmas where it all began (hour-by-hour report)

After weeks of Advent gatherings and hymns, carols on my computer and spottings of candy canes, chocolate, and cookies, and a break in there for Eid-il-Adha adventures, Christmas was just around the corner. I had a whirlwind of activities lined up and things were looking good. Bethlehem Bible College invited me to their annual community Christmas dinner at the Bethlehem hotel, where hundreds of people, mostly local Christian families gathered for the event. Several area evangelical churches take part, and highlights included a talk by BBC President Dr. Bishara Awad, music by the BBC choir and by a church worship team, and a couple of sermons by area pastors. I didn't understand more than a couple words of it all, but one thing that really stuck out for me was the pageant play that they put on with college students that reminded me of the hilarity and meaningfulness of all those years of Christmas pagents back home.

It was a festive occasion at the Bible College but still they eat chicken, rice, hummus and salads with pita--I was disappointed that they don't seem to have any special meals for the holidays. But over all it was great to see how modern Christians in the Holy Land are celebrating. Then the Saturday before Christmas the Lutheran girls in Bethlehem hosted a Christmas Bonanza Extravaganza--a cookie decorating party and much fun besides. I brought oranges and cloves and we had a good time making a version of pomanders. Then there were dozens of sugar cookies to be iced and sprinkled. Many young people volunteering in the area were in and out. In the evening we set off to find the tree-lighting ceremony in the town of Beit Sahour (Shepherd's Fields) which is close by. We more or less walked there and back, a bit of a hike. The actual lighting was cool and involved a fireworks display. Many folks were on hand and speeches abounded, though of course, we couldn't understand them. Then it was back to the house for some tasty dinner food and more hanging out. I took a taxi with others into Jerusalem to stay for the weekend.

Sunday brought church and then some of us went on a walk through west Jerusalem, grabbing bagels and sitting in a park (it's called Independence park). Strange contrast from most of my days in the West Bank, for sure. I helped a couple folks who were decorating the church (Redeemer) for the Christmas service and we had it put together in no time. So, we took a little nap in the pews, something I don't do very often. The evening held a final advent gathering at a house of Lutheran World Federation workers who live on the Mount of Olives. They've become quite a family lately as I've spent much time across the street from them in the house where the MCC workers live. They've got Danish heritage so traditional holiday goodies abound there like these cool round pancake balls that are the size of golf balls with jam on top and glueg (spiced, heated red wine with raisins and almonds in it).

Monday I took a bus in and did some volunteering at the BBC, but not too much. They had a lunch party for the students there. I met up with Bassem, the local MCC administrator who gave me some mail I had, including a small package of things from my sister, which comprised my only Christmas present. It was lovely: M&Ms, Craisins, some DVDs and cards. I went to work on it right away eating a lot and watching a movie before heading to bed. My housemate Femke went home and so I had the place to myself. The next morning construction woke me at 8 am and I set to work cleaning and tidying everything. In the evening I decided to head out and stay the night with my friend Marjorie in Bethlehem. Together with Peter, the other MCC SALTer from Jerusalem, the three of us went to a Christmas party sponsored by a group called AIC in Beit Sahour. It was a great night, lasting all the way until 2 am with a dinner and then dance with a DJ playing Arabic and international hits. I have never danced so much--and it was nice to have so many eager partners.

Despite going to bed at 3 am we were up and about around 9 to get ready for our big Christmas eve day in Bethlehem. Marjorie's place is a quick walk to Manger square where we began to mill around at 11 am. There was a long parade/procession with tons of scout troops (who act as marching bands) filing along the road. They were playing bag pipes! I have never seen so many bag pipes in my life. It felt like the fourth of July honestly. The mood was festive and there were so many cameras and press it was unbelievable. Peter got interviewed by a Japanese morning show (and I did too) and I saw a crew from Bahrain, from Britain, from Canada, etc. We found Fadi there (he's a Bethlehemite who works with LWF in Jerusalem) and he was our companion for the day. There were the usual street vendors and such but more men selling coffee and boys selling gum around the square. In the afternoon, the same troops marched back into the area by Nativity Church to welcome the Latin Patriarch who was to arrive. I was standing near the procession with Fadi, the taller one, keeping me informed. I could hardly tell with all the monks and officials and police all around. After he walked by, we grabbed falafels for lunch and headed a bit up the road to Lutheran Christmas Church.

This church was hosting all the local Lutheran congregations for Christmas Eve around 5 pm. The service was broadcast live on some television. It was in three languages, Arabic, English, and German, and the sermon was given in English by our own congregation's pastor, Mark Holman. It was a packed house and we barely made it in before they started sending people to the overflow room. It was a lovely service and a chance to sit down and rest. After that, people gathered in Manger Square and around 7:30 pm we decided to get some taxis for 12 of us to eat dinner together at the Tent Restaurant in Beit Sahour. Little did we know that it would take so much work because Abu Mazen (Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas) was coming in for services at the Church of the Nativity. Eventually we found a taxi and an open road to the restaurant.

The Tent is popular for locals and tourists for its atmosphere--a covered bedouin style tent with huge tables seating a dozen or more on couches around salads and mixed grill offerings. It is known for its water pipes (nargileh, hubbly bubbly, hookah, sheesha) also. So it was a good choice for our crowd. Still eating traditional foods of the region, I wasn't feeling particularly close to the holiday. Then--the lights dimmed and clapping commenced. As we looked on bewildered, two Santa Clauses jumped out to some crazy music and started running around throwing things from their sack! We shouted and were able to get some presents from their stash--all cheap Chinese imports which greatly amused us. Toy soldiers, a creepy Barbie doll, tacky santa hats, masks, balloons, we had a blast. It was so funny to see us all get a little giddy over such things.

Around 11 we decided to head back to the Manger Square to see what there was to see. Not much apparently, except some shibab (youth males) and some sad looking children still peddling gum. It seems that the show was over. But still, the midnight mass was impending. We tried to sit down in the Peace Center cafe but they were closing up shop so we attempted to walk to the bar/restaurant next to the Nativity church. This proved to be nearly impossible, as Abu Mazen was again in the vicinity and the roads were heavily guarded by armed forces. Eventually we made it across the street and toasted the new year..er... Christmas...with our friends together. It was good company. At some point I decided to go home to shower and get to bed. I had to wake up early for church in Jerusalem.

6:30 am I was almost up and out by 7:15 to walk to the bus that would get me to Jerusalem. Another guy I know, Ben, who was going to church with me was on the same minibus. It was not quite 9 am when we arrived in time at the Lutheran Church of the Redeemer in the Old City. Seminarian Mike Powell gave a nice sermon about incarnation and we all headed to Pastor Mark Holman's house for Christmas brunch. Egg bakes and Minnesotans were in excess. It was very pleasant. I felt right at home with all the Lutherans :) Then I went back up to Augusta Victoria Hospital (where I was staying all week in the MCC house) and watched Elf and the Thomas Crown Affair, vegetating with some others who were sleep-deprived. Next, with Ben, I crashed a Christmas dinner being held at the AV guesthouse with lots of wonderful visitors and volunteers from around the world. Mainly European. There was again great glueg and the dessert--flaming plum pudding--was phenomenal. I've decided to switch from fruit cake to plum pudding from now on!

It was very generous for them to host this wonderful meal and I was so pleased at how Christmas had turned out. I called home late that evening to wish everyone a Merry Christmas. The next day I slept in until noon and continued vegetating until an appointed gathering of friends at the guesthouse at 6 pm. We hung out for a while and went out on the town to a joint called Mike's Place in west Jerusalem that seems to attract ex-pats. It was fun and crazy and a great way to unwind. The next morning we gathered for banana pancakes a la Mike and a re-run of Elf. It was back to vegetating for the rest of the day, until the events of yesterday unfolded. More in the next entry.

I was so privileged to have such great times with the Lutherans and volunteers in the area. It's amazing how we can all connect and bond at such a time when we are far from our homes and missing family. It was not how I expected a Christmas in the Holy Land but it was incredible nonetheless.

Pre-Christmas Photos
Christmas Photos
More Christmas Photos
Posted by Kimberly MacVaugh at 07:01:58 | Permanent Link | Comments (0) |

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

The East Bank: My Journeys in Jordan


Early in the morning on Saturday December 6th, I began my adventurous holiday by taking a taxi to the border of Jordan with some MCC folks heading to Amman. I would be off from work the whole week in honor of Eid-il-Adha, the Feast of the Sacrifice, a big festival for Muslims worldwide which celebrates the end of the Hajj (Pilgrimage to Mecca) and which commemorates Ibrahim's  (Abraham's) binding of Ishmael (it's not Isaac in their tradition). All Muslim families with the means to slaughter a sheep, goat, or camel in remembrance of Ibrahim's faithfulness and God's mercy. I decided to wander across the river Jordan to hang out with another SALTer, Justine, who also had off for the occasion. So to start, I had to make the long trek from Jerusalem to the Allenby Bridge which is in the West Bank and is the only route that Palestinians can take out of the country and the only way they can get anywhere else. They travel across the bridge into Jordan and then take flights around the world,as they cannot go from Tel Aviv's airport.

So, I had a visa to cross from this bridge which is the quickest way geographically to Amman. It requires some transit to the border, a wait and a huge exit tax levied by Israel, 150.5 shekels (like $40). Then you have to take a bus across a barren military zone of like a kilometer which costs about $4 despite the short trip--it's a monopoly, the only way you can get to the other side. Then your passports are collected, you go into the Jordanian control area wait for your name to be called and get your passport back. Then it's a big negotiation to get a taxi/bus/serveece into Amman at a decent price. I was fortunate to travel with three veterans of this process and had no trouble. I even started a scarf knitting project on the bus.

You Have Cheddar Cheese?!?!

From the moment I entered Maryanne's apartment (she's with MCC Jordan) I felt right at home. She has a really nice apartment with three bedrooms that she has basically decorated from scratch. It's beautiful and she had tons of Christmas decor waiting. While I waited for Justine to arrive after her school let out, I watched Maryanne cook some Cheddar Broccoli soup. Wow--I found out that they have real cheddar in Amman, like from the US! The cheese in Bethlehem leaves much to be desired and is so expensive! This was just the first of many revelations I had regarding the very western amenities available in Amman. After Justine came and we were happily caught up on our lives since September, Maryanne drove us to a Chinese/Indian food restaurant where the menus were only English. I had some tasty Tofu stirfry (my first tofu since the states) but they definitely were not as generous as a Chinese place in the US. Next we went to one of the twelve or so Starbucks in Amman, a huge place with many levels, a stand alone monument to American coffee. I had a Caramel Frappuccino--major yum! Full and feeling broke after such extravagance (which was available at American prices) we headed home satisfied.

In Search of Sheep Slaughter

Sunday is a work day normally in Jordan, but because of the Eid, this Sunday was declared a holiday by the King. No one was really working, except MCC. Justine and I slept in until around 9 am and then had a delicious pancake breakfast. It makes a huge difference to have hot water for dishes and showers. Our plan was to wander around and see what was to see. I wanted to find some ritual sheep slaughter but there was none to be found. We stopped by the MCC office for business reasons (Justine needed stuff) and wound up eating falafel with them for lunch. There we discovered that Eid was to begin on Monday, not Sunday, and so sheep killing would be commenced tomorrow. We also became a little panicked regarding the public transportation that might not be available on the first day of Eid. Our next stop was "the balad" Downtown where we might peruse some nice shops.

"Are you with US or THEM?"

The Balad was a busy place as people were preparing for the big holiday. We met lots of shopkeepers and told them that we were teachers, Justine in Irbid and me in Bethlehem. This helped as we tried to bargain but not too much. Justine's Arabic is swell though. She bought a couple of scarfs and I went to a (pirated) DVD shop and purchased 6 for 5 JD, like $7. What a bargain compared to the Bethlehem which is around 15 shekels or 4 dollars per DVD. At one of these streetside vendors, my remark about working in Bethlehem inspired quite a conversation. The man said that he was in fact, Palestinian, from Nablus or somewhere. I had heard about the large number of Palestinian refugees in Jordan but it was interesting to actually meet and talk to some. But the talking was abruptly over when this man questioned me edgily, "Are you with US or with THEM?" Mind you we've already been speaking Arabic to this fellow, so he knows we're not Israeli ( I mean it's unlikely that we're Israelis working and living in Area A in the West Bank). But I was really aggravated by this question and I asked, Who's US? I mean of course I'm with "us", as in humanity...who can be against "us"? No sorry, I'm with "them" the evil ones. Frustrated by this stupid mentality of us/them which I have not really encountered so bluntly anywhere else, I suggested we head back up the hill home. We stopped to pick up some groceries for our journey to Petra to munch while we hiked (to avoid the expensive park places). At home we watched Desperate Housewives and Grey's Anatomy--one of those things I don't get here--and later we watched the movie Everything is Illuminated which I bought at the shop.

Shibabilization

Much of the attention Justine and I had been attracting reminded me of how things are here in the West Bank where groups of guys (shibab) go wandering through the streets and then encounter a woman from outside their community, only to stare, make comments or whistle, etc. We coined the term Shibabilization to describe the phenomena. This Shibabilization would follow us from Amman to Petra, to Wadi Rum and back to Amman. Monday morning we woke early and headed out in search of a taxi for the ride to the bus station. There was such a tremendous noise arising from the city's many mosques, a cacophony of calls to prayer for the Eid, that we were sure there'd be nothing happening all day. But pleasantly surprised, we managed to hail a taxi with little difficulty and even used the meter! Wow, meters in taxis! What a great idea! Unfortunately we paid a bit more than we should have due to miscommunication about our destination. But then we managed to catch a minibus down to Petra for only 3 JD each, practically the local price! A three hour bus ride with not a few shibab and mostly locals. I busted out my knitting project which certainly seemed to hold every man's attention for the remainder of the trip, including a creepy 'special police' man that was sitting behind us asking us our marital status and for Justine's phone number.

We arrived midday to Wadi Musa and found our hostel with little difficulty after standing around looking lost for a few minutes (several pickups full of shibab offered to take us but where I don't know).  It was too late to consider paying entrance to the Petra park so we instead explored a bit of Wadi Musa (the town outlying the historical Petra ruins) and shopped at some souvenir joints on the road. We walked down to the Petra visitors center and found out that there was a 'Petra by Night' program that evening so we bought tickets and planned to come back for that. After a fabulous buffet dinner up at the hostel, we got a ride down to this event at 8:30. It was packed with hundreds of tourists. As it turns out, we were merely supposed to walk through the initial path guided by luminarium candles. Then whewn we reached the Treasury building, the most famous site in Petra, we were seated around a big open space filled with candles and we listened to some enchanting music and drank a cup of tea (plastic cup). It indeed was a profound experience, especially since I hadn't seen any of Petra before in the light. At the end, we decided against a taxi, which for sure would have ripped us off, but the walking plan wasn't brilliant.

Kings Go Free

Bright and early Justine and I woke and prepared for a FULL day in the Petra ruins. So we again took a ride from the hostel down to the entrance gate. The guidebook stated that foreigners could expect to pay 21 JD for a day pass, residents paid  1 JD, and "only King Abdullah goes free." Justine had not been given residency status yet so she was planning to present a letter from her school in Arabic saying "Please admit Justine King as a resident to this site because she volunteers full time with our school for blind children". When we got up to the line, it seemed suddenly that everyone had arrived. Justine pulled out her letter and handed it over. The man stared at it and began to read line by line through an entire page about this school. He looked up and asked her in Arabic if this was a school for the blind and deaf or just blind, out of genuine curiosity. Then he picked up the phone, made some call and the people behind us started grumbling about how long Justine was taking. She asked, so how much do I owe? And the ticket man replied in a cute way, nothing! nothing! This is so wonderful! A school for the blind! And Justine, astonished, asked, well, do I need a ticket for the gate--and the man said, no, no! I have already called down there, he's expecting you!

Just like that, the King went free.
I paid 21 JD.

I'm Jack Sparrow

The sites of Petra were more spectacular than can be expressed in words or pictures. There were so many beautifully carved tombs, facades, temples, etc. and the natural landscape was itself stunning. The rock is brilliantly red, pink, yellow, purple. And to be so close to it all! This is no museum with a do not touch sign. At Petra you can climb on or around anything, sit in the seats of the amphitheater or pose with an inscription. I'm not sure how good that is for preservation, but it sure was fun. I think it was well worth my money. One major route through Petra requires a bit of a hike off the evenly paved portion and onto some well worn but precarious steps and mazes up to the top of the mountain where a huge Nabataean monument called the Monastery juts out from the side as if an independent structure--though it too is carved into the rock. It doesn't look like a monastery, nor was it ever used as one, but apparently some crosses were later carved into the back of the temple and the nickname stuck.

Part of the atmosphere of Petra was the persistence of certain Bedouin boys/young men to nag passersby to take a donkey ride up to the monastery, or a camel ride around the main area, or horses to take you back to the entrance. They would yell "air conditioned taxi!" as you hiked past. I was unfazed, and Justine informed me that riding on a camel/donkey for so long would probably make it difficult to move the next day. Besides, I trusted my footing on the steep ascent more than that of those skittish donkeys. Maybe I was wrong about them. But it was a good workout. Anyway the men were looking sort of cute and I tried to figure out what it was about them--then I got it! They were wearing eye liner! With keffiyehs and scarfs tied around their head and dark dirty hair, and with their eyes thus emphasized, they looked alot like Jack Sparrow, or Johnny Depp posing as a pirate. It was nice. But by the time I figured this out it was too late to get a good photo without utterly embarrassing myself. So you'll just have to imagine.

Married to a Bedouin

While I imagine most of those Petra guys' flirtatiousness was related to their desire to make some money off of us, I did sense some sort of boldness over the week from Jordanian guys towards us like there was a really good chance that we'd say yes and consent to marry them and hang out in the desert for the rest of our lives. Only on the way out of Petra did I realize why some of them might have this idea about western women. A book was on display entitled "Married to a Bedouin" billed as a true life account of a woman's life with the Bedouin. She appeared Dutch. I unfortunately did not get a good look at the story because I was afraid it would indicate an interest on my part in marrying a Bedouin. But after seeing that, I never wondered how those guys got the impression we wanted to get hitched. Just to see how we'd feel about living the bedouin lifestyle, Justine and I signed up through our hostel for a tour to Wadi Rum for a day with an overnight stay in a beduoin camp including dinner and breakfast.

Wadi Wasta

So we woke up at an absurd hour after sleeping off our long day in Petra and we hopped on a mini bus with three other foreigners from our hostel to this Wadi Rum tour. The three were teachers in an English immersion school in Cairo and they would more or less be companions on this journey, whether they liked it or not. There was a man inside the bus with no apparent purpose except to speak English to the tourists and extort money out of them as we careened into the desert in the middle of nowhere. We literally saw him take money from us, separate his portion and place it in his pocket and then count up the rest to give the driver. On the way from Wadi Musa to Wadi Rum (a desert national park) we were stopped by highway patrol for having too many passengers--two more than there were seats. They apparently fined the bus 30 JD for each and boy was our filching hero pissed! He jumped out of the van and went over to the cop car flailing his arms and screaming all kinds of apparent obscenities while we looked on, terrified!

Praise God the policeman wasn't too upset by what our guy called his mother, and what gestures he made (including showing the bottom of his shoe) and soon we were rolling onward while he continued shouting about how he intended to come back this way and give him a piece of his mind...well he said something more like "I'll kick his ass." He told us that he said to the cop "if you're a real man, you'll meet me in the desert, one on one, tonight." A showdown. The guy was still stewing when we arrived in Rum Village, the Bedouin town inside of Wadi Rum. The views were stunning! The sign outside the door said "Bedouin Meditation Camp" and I thought maybe this was where we'd be staying. There was a GIANT pot of tea produced after a while and I asked for the bathroom and found that it was very much like the ones I experienced with CPT in the south of the West Bank. No TP and no sitting.

This discouraged me from drinking much of the 10 Liters of tea from that kettle, even though it was tasty. Our traveling companions appeared to be five friends from Japan who were visiting Jordan together and three friends (two Brits and one American) who teach at an English immersion school in Cairo for rich kids. The ten of us were on the tour booked via Valentine Inn which appeared to be a strange conglomerate of people who knew each other rather than a seamless operation by one organization. We were all befuddled by the lack of clarity about our plans. The teachers were extremely wry and dry-humoured for the entirety of our trip and we couldn't stand their standoffishness. But, it became easier for me throughout the trip to relate to the American. I think the others were sorely disappointed by the accomodations in Wadi Rum.

Anyhow, the man "in charge," Zidane, came out and told us we would soon be departing on a jeep tour (two cars, five persons each plus a driver) and then this random western woman with a scarf over her head told us to be prepared for the toilets in the campsite to not have toilet paper or flushing capabilities. We were to flush manually with a bucket of water. I was totally intrigued by who this woman was. We asked her where she came from and she said she had come for a visit in November and just stayed! After comparing her with my photo of the woman who married a bedouin, I concluded that she was different. But we saw her later at the campsite. Meanwhile, the jeeps arrived and we struck out, Justine and I with the three Cairene teachers and the five Japanese friends on their own. We picked a car with major engine issues--it was overheating constantly and I'm sure other things were wrong. It would never ignite when we tried to start it up again after every stop. The boy driving kept pouring water inside the hood.

Somehow we did make it around to various stops. There was Lawrence's Springs, a spot where T.E.Lawrence might have watered his camels. There was a canyon where we saw inscriptions of all kinds of things, petroglyphs of camel herds.There was a stop for running up and down a sand dune and one for resting and eating lunch/drinking tea heated on a small brush fire in the middle of nowhere. There was also Lawrence's house (supposed) and more Nabataean inscriptions. At the lunch dining spot Justine and I hiked off in search of a crevasse some place to use the bathroom in and we finally found a tiny sliver of a cave with barely room for a person. We took turns guarding for the other but I had a horrible time trying to situate myself in that rock. Experience of a lifetime! I also appear to have lost 17 JD (20$) from my pants' pocket as a result of that endeavor, a fact which saddened me greatly. Money is tight as a volunteer. After that we went and hung out with the two 'guides' whose guiding technique was stopping the car, leaning out the driver's window and saying "go look over there." They were pretty sweet boys and they liked our attempts at Arabic with them. We had "Bedouin Whiskey", or tea, with them and we continued on to our campsite.

We arrived all of the sudden, as a few tents emerged in the barren desert and it seemed seriously, like a mirage. I had to adjust to my normal land-legs and we were shown to our spots by the drivers. While the 8 were put together in a huge open 'dorm' tent, Justine and I were invited to share a partitioned space by ourselves. Justine said, wow, we must have some 'wasta'! Wasta is a word that I didn't know or use before this trip but it is a concept that I have learned much about through observing society here. It's a derivation of 'middleman' literally but figuratively means knowing the right people, having influence and pull. So it seems that we curried favor by using our Arabic and being beautiful and thus were able to get more private quarters. Sweet!

The wind really picked up as the afternoon waned and we became chilled to the bone after the sun went down. I missed the sun setting by accident. Eventually we started to wonder where our dinner was going to be, as there didn't seem to be an obvious meeting place. Justine and I ventured out and straight away discovered the group tent with a fire going in the middle. The Japanese tourists were already there. We were offered more tea. I had a few cups, even knowing I'd have to walk a ways to the toilets. There was one with a seat there, but it still took manual flushing. We waited and chatted and waited. The Cairo teachers arrived complaining about the lateness of the food. We waited. Around 7 it seemed that things were about ready. The woman from before showed up again! I saw her preparing some of the food or helping with it, and I saw her cleaning the bathrooms. She appeared not to know much Arabic and I didn't see her with any potential husbands so it's still a mystery to me.

With a flourish, the Bedouin guys lifted something like a metal rack of chicken, potatoes, and whole onions out of an underground oven pit thing where they had been roasting, and brought it into the tent. Chicken, vegetables, rice and pita were the menu, ordinary but tasty, especially after a long day in the desert. We ate while being entertained by a cute oud player. After we finished, I made Justine move closer to the guy so we could hear him better. At some point, the guy realized that we could understand some/much of his songs ('habibi music'--romantic ballads) and it seemed he got a little embarrassed. I guess he's used to showing off and singing whatever to the crazy foreigners. But then, he got his gumption back and began to sing about us! He asked us in Arabic what we were doing here and then started incorporating these things into the melody. Yaa, hilwaat, min Irbid wa Beit Lahem, like this. I was giggling like crazy and between the two of us we just went into hysterics over being serenaded by a Bedouin. He complemented Justine's Arabic and seemed impressed she'd been here only 4 months (I'm impressed too!). He said, "I think after a year you will speak just like us" (or something to that effect). I took this to mean he wanted to marry her :)

Later on in the evening, the head honcho invited us out to "a cave". Not knowing what this was about, we decided to check it out, with others of course. A short walk through the deep, deep sand under brilliant stars and an incandescent moon took us to an orange glowing cave, more a deep indentation than a cave really, where a bonfire was roaring. It felt to us like a very Christmasy scene...the sand looked and felt like snow and the cave was reminiscent of nativity creche scenes on Christmas cards. I found myself humming "Good King Wenceslas" as I walked. There we rested around a warm fire and chatted about various things. It was a little disappointing not to have marshmallows. After offering Arak, a regional alcoholic beverage, Zidane informed us that really "the bar was closed" (the bar was never open!) and that we had tea. Somehow though, maybe on your 50th cup of tea in the day, it starts to have an inebriating effect.

After that it was off to bed, a cot with a heavy blanket. I slept with all my clothes still on and couldn't see a thing in the tent. I woke up with a very cold nose! After a lackluster breakfast of leftover bread and jam, we packed up and headed back to Rum village. The second jeep was having more problems with its wheel, and in the end the folks in that car were stranded for a while until we could be dropped off and the other jeep taken back to get them.

Shuu ya9ni 'screwed'?

Ya9ni, or yaanni, is a frequent expression in Arabic, used the way we use 'like' or more, 'I mean...". In the company of Justine I was using Ya9ni quite often in my speech--my English. "Shuu yaanni..." would be a way to say "How do you say..." We were waiting with great anxiety for the bus to retrieve us from Wadi Rum and drive us back to Petra--hoping that the angry guy didn't get arrested the day before. He had insisted that we pay him 13 JD before he left us the morning before in order to assure us of a ride back to Amman the same day. We didn't have any idea whether there would be a bus after 7 am in Petra going to Amman (the usual time of day for this single trip) so we had no choice but to trust this creepy guy to get us back to Petra and then Amman. At 5 JD for the trip to Petra, it meant we were paying 8 JD to get back to Amman--5 more than the way down! I said to Justine, "Shuu ya9ni screwed???" I was so angry at that guy for being a slimy crook--but what can you do? In the end I was so relieved to see him that next morning because it meant that at least my 13 JD hadn't gone the way of the cop.

So, we had a ride back to Amman! I was pleased. I started working on knitting my Jordan scarf. The angry guy noticed and was extremely impressed by this. He started demanding to buy it from me and asked how much it was. I said it wouldn't be finished. He said, but I want it for my girlfriend. He offered 2 JD for the whole thing! How rude! The yarn alone cost like 8 JD! I told him I wanted at least 30 JD for it (to cover the lost 17 plus the rip-off 13 for the bus) but he wasn't going for it. Instead, he CALLED his girlfriend on his cellphone and handed it to me! I stumbled through some Arabic, eventually saying "Huwwe majnoon" He is crazy! and giving it back to him. Justine was surprised that he actually would openly have a girlfriend since it's not really appropriate for the culture. But it's still a mystery as to who I was talking to. But the knitting exchange appeared to really loosen him up and make him a more pleasant person for the rest of the trip. I'm chalking that up to 'wasta' too. (I should note that technically speaking we are far too liberal with the term which really refers more to nepotistic behavior)

When we arrived back in Petra, we were dropped off at the bus station and it seemed that there were a reasonably large number of minibuses around at 11 am--convincing me that we would have been fine on our own finding a bus. But there was no way of knowing. Our guy handed some money to the driver (probably 5 JD or less out of the 8) and we found a seat inside. And waited and waited for it to fill up. We were the only foreigners on the bus but there were some women. I didn't bring out my knitting.
Eventually we made it back to Maryanne's house in Amman.

Wrapping Up

Thursday we mainly vegetated and caught up on showers and sleep after our Bedouin experience. I'm still getting sand out of my shoes! Friday we had a big breakfast of eggs and pancakes and went to see if the Bylers needed any help with their Christmas party. Then we went back to Maryanne's, where we met Hinke, a Canadian Mennonite representative who has been in Nazareth and who soon plans to relocate to Amman to study Arabic. She was also staying at Maryanne's. I bought some cheddar cheese to bring home with me. Justine and I went to visit a HUGE market in the area which on Fridays opens to sell used clothes and shoes, etc. So many clothes. It was like a giant Goodwill. Actually...I found a tag on something that said it was from Goodwill! It seemed to be mostly western brands and styles so I figured that they were some relief clothing shipments that were being resold so people could get what they really wanted, money--not ratty American handmedowns. But Justine managed to find a few good things and I was very impressed. I wished we had one in Bethlehem.

Then we went back to help with MCC Jordan's Christmas party being held at Daryl and Cindy's house. I "helped" by going with Daryl to the Safeway for some cranberry juice. Wow--Safeway! It's like a department store! This is where I found my Christmas treat, Diet Dr Pepper, imported, and delicious. When we got back, preparations were almost complete, except for setting the table. The guests soon started arriving: Maryanne, Hinke, Nada, Suzi, Rick and Steve. We had a delicious dinner of smoked turkey (tastes like ham), saffron rice, salad, green bean casserole, sweet potatoes topped with marshmallows, and cheesecake . Next came the sad and funny stories of Christmases past--including Justine's tragic tale from one Christmas when every child in her community was supposed to have a giant cookie hanging with their name on it in the common room. Except she didn't see one for her that year. The other kids ate happily and it was days later that they found the broken bits of her cookie fallen to a back corner of the stage. It was truly a distressing story and for the rest of the night we tried to make it up to her, letting her go first on desserts, etc. There were carols and then a funny game of pictionary charades where I wrote about a sheep being slaughtered for Eid-il-Adha which turned into a slimy slug.

Back at Maryanne's that evening, a group of shibab from the street got into a scuffle with shouting and fighting involved. We were not too interested, until Maryanne noticed from her balcony that they were messing with her (MCC's) car and had taken off the license plate to toss around. She shouted out from her window: Hey stop! That's mine! Leave it alone! The sheepish guys tried to return it but couldn't put it back on. They left it on her windshield. Maryanne went down to retrieve it before it disappeared again and the shibab said, "So sorry miss!" We awoke early in the morning on Saturday and I went with Justine to the bus station: She headed to school and I headed to the border. It went swimmingly, all to plan. I met some interesting folks on that journey--a huge group that I thought looked like beach bums lost in Jordan, which turned out to be a group of surfers based in Hawaii called "Surfing the Nations" an evangelical group that brings the joy of surfing around the world. They were touring Jordan/Jerusalem between events in Egypt and Tel Aviv. Also, I wound up on a 10 person taxi trip to Jerusalem with 9 folks who had just completed their hajj pilgrimage to Mecca who had so much baggage we barely fit beside it.

When I completed the 6 hour trek of buses and waits and more buses back to Bethlehem, I arrived to the horrendously loud sounds of construction and a lack of water in the house. But that's another story!

Here are some photos I have up:
Wadi Rum
Posted by Kimberly MacVaugh at 04:28:16 | Permanent Link | Comments (1) |

Thursday, December 04, 2008

It's Official...

* I have a permit to work in Israel (to stay here) for a year!
        This has been really weighing me down, as I feared facing the difficulties that others have volunteering here, leaving every three months and trying over and over to enter on a tourist visa. I am fortunate to work for a well established organization that has the ability to get work permits. As soon as I thought about coming here to volunteer, I began to worry about this visa issue. Now, I can finally truly rest my head about the problem. It's quite attached in my passport!

* I am going to Jordan for Eid-il-Adha!
        The major holiday next week for Muslims celebrates the Binding of Ishmael, i.e. when Abraham obeyed God's command to sacrifice his only son (Islamic tradition says this was Ishmael not Isaac) but in the end, God offers a sheep/goat instead of the son to be sacrificed. Every family will have an animal slaughtered and the meat distributed to the poor for this festival. Then they will party and buy new clothes and the boys will get toy guns. School is closed and I plan to meet up with another SALTer, Justine, who works in northern Jordan, to bum around Amman and Petra. I head out Saturday morning.

*I am not applying to grad school now for next fall.
        After major soul-searching and futile attempts to write a personal statement, I really felt that now is not the time to be worrying about getting in to an MA program. I am still highly interested in studying Peace and Conflict Studies but I am going to give it another year. I waited too long this year and I can't do it well enough. Also I need more time to learn Arabic and another year of life experience can only help. It is obvious that I would not be able to accomplish the process of application and concentrate on the holidays and things demanding my attention here. And why am I here, if not to be present here? So, if anyone has any ideas for what I could do for the August 08-August 09 time slot, let me know. Making money, studying Arabic, being in a good environment are all possibilities I would approve of, especially in combination.

*Sinter Klaas comes tomorrow to the Netherlands. Put out your shoes!   
Posted by Kimberly MacVaugh at 16:26:25 | Permanent Link | Comments (0) |

Friday, November 28, 2008

Eid il Shukr

As I take my first listen of the season to the Christmas tunes on my computer, I am quite pleased to chill out and reflect on my Thanksgiving in Jerusalem, or as they would say in Arabic "Eid il Shukr" The Feast of Thanks. It's a remarkably American holiday, Thanksgiving, which makes it easy to explain to people. See, we pray and then gorge ourselves sick eating tons of food and then we watch (American) football and fall asleep on the couch and wake up the next day to shop ourselves silly. Not to be too sardonic, really I've appreciated the cultural aspect of this more than ever, knowing for certain that at least Thanksgiving is truly an American activity that I can feel some special connection too. And it relates well to the feasts here in the Muslim world that involve huge extended family gatherings.

Anyway, Thursday was of course a regular workday though I was distracted by the thought of the feast that evening on the Mount of Olives. I finished school and prepared my things for staying the night with the MCC family in Jlem (because buses don't run that late.) I had mashed sweet potatoes the night before and packed the ingredients for my journey by bus from Bethlehem. Unfortunately for me, the Italian President was visiting and Mahmoud Abbas stayed at the Intercontinental which is the best hotel in the area--next door to the Bible College and near the buses. Soooo...Wednesday and Thursday the main road through town, the Jerusalem-Hebron Rd (which due to the wall no longer runs straight between the two) which is also my main walking route, was lined with soldiers. Palestinian men with large guns at the ready every five feet on both sides plus secondary roadblocks, police/military vehicles, special dogs, sharpshooters on roofs. Rather intimidating, though thankfully I heard what it was about beforehand so I didn't panic.

Walking to the bus takes about 20 minutes on my short legs and I passed soldier after soldier feeling a mite conspicuous as no cars or passersby were in sight. Eventually my confusion was solved as one of these sentinels stuck out his hand to indicate that I had to stop. Okay, thanks for finally telling me. Not long after, I saw the official entourage drive by at great speed and a few minutes later I was permitted to walk on. At the bus lot I noticed a ton of people were waiting, apparently stranded a while by the lack of traffic movement--eventually the bus came and I was on my way to the feast! At the checkpoint I was saddened to see that about 6 people on the bus were forbidden to continue with us into Jerusalem, some who were students who probably make that trip every day for years.

So, I whipped up some sweet potato casserole with pecans sent from home and joined the throngs at the Jerusalem MCC representatives' house at Augusta Victoria. There were about thirty of us and the food was just amazing. I ate so much I was still ill when I woke up this morning. Quality. We had among us several non-Americans and it was fun to share the traditions with them/try to explain what various things were. And one guest brought a hammered dulcimer which reminded me of ethnomusicology class and was very beautiful sounding. We stayed up very late talking and hanging out and I was able to have a long discussion with my family via Skype as they ate their own Thanksgiving meal at home.

Early this morning I caught a bus back to Bethlehem to go to the Bible College for work. Some long-term volunteers were leaving and that felt sad. Everything is very transitional around here. But then I was able to hang out with some Brits (Scots/English), some who volunteer, some visiting and we had a nice evening eating shwarma and kanafeh. Tomorrow will bring more Thanksgiving festivities at the College. Yum.

As always, I am extremely grateful for all the people who have bestowed their love, friendship, and resources on me through the years, and I hope that the blessings are reciprocal. I am also amazed at the good fortune that I have had over the last year. This is the first holiday season that I can remember without the weight of studies over my head and I can recall all too well the stress that nearly killed me when I was finishing my BA last December. I appreciate especially the folks around here who have been willing to invest in me during this time even though I'm just temporary help. I hope that everyone had a very pleasant Thanksgiving who was celebrating. Advent is here!
Posted by Kimberly MacVaugh at 16:51:01 | Permanent Link | Comments (0) |

Friday, November 21, 2008

The Holy Mundane, or why God loves Football

I had an awesome opportunity to go watch my first Palestinian football match in Al-Khader yesterday. They have such a great stadium, I never would have expected to see it out in a village! It has a great view of the huge Gilo checkpoint that I use to get into Jerusalem. A few Palestinian guys accompanied half a dozen of us crazy foreigners to the event, meaning I didn't have to brave the ticket line, or find seats or figure out what was going on--I had kind cultural interpreters. I also had a buffer from the many intrigued boys and men sitting around us who were shocked by the sight of blondes/women in the stands. Besides one very blond photographer woman, we were the only internationals AND the only women I saw in the whole place. There were a couple girls--none over ten years old. Apparently this is a manly activity.

After we got comfortable on our concrete stairstep 'seats' (I think concrete is the national building material) and buckled down for a brisk evening, the actual sport began without fanfare. I was surprised and a bit disappointed as I had been hoping for a rousing rendition of the national anthem "Biladi" (My Country). I've really developed a fondness for it as it is played at the school every morning. The fans were very enthusiastic though and many had flags and there was some confetti being tossed about. One team was from Hebron and one from Bethlehem, so I decided to cheer for the Bethlehem blues. Unfortunately for them, Hebron (which comprised the majority of the audience) scored in the first minute. Eighty minutes went by with little besides the blues dashing our hopes of a goal again and again.

We derived entertainment from the Red Cresent medical staff on the sidelines, who rushed in with a folded stretcher at every possible moment, looking for the chance, evidently to carry a man off the field. They must have gone out a dozen times before a player allowed them to haul him off, and that was only about five feet from the side anyway. It was hilarious to watch, but maybe you had to be there. Also, there was a ball that flew over the fence and into the garden of the house next door. I couldn't live next to this stadium--it's so bright and loud at night. But this family, they came and sat on their roof to observe. Free seating.

In the last seconds as people stood up to leave, the blues came through and Bethlehem scored a goal leaving us with a climatic...tie. No overtime here. A pity I think but Bhem definitely had the momentum. And there were no riots, brawls or fights of any sort that I could see. I had been promised one. People were behaved and the whole thing came off quite 'normally.' It seemed odd, in light of everything Al-Khader goes through, to have a peaceful evening of entertainment and sport. I think God must love football. When is the holy mundane and the average sacred? When the alternative is chaos and destruction and loss!

I hope to go back again to another game--maybe even to see the national team play at their new stadium. These guys weren't professional paid players, although I guess they pay to have some African players on their teams. Still it was quite an event and I found it very exciting despite not knowing anything about football/soccer.  As always, pictures will be a long time coming as I still must get earlier things up. And I'll be sure to write again soon about the many holidays which are on the way.
Posted by Kimberly MacVaugh at 16:02:03 | Permanent Link | Comments (1) |

Sunday, November 09, 2008

Yes we can!

Palestinians have generally been said to be cynical about the US Presidential Election...skeptical that change could come from either candidate and convinced of America's eternal and exclusive loyalty to the aims of Israel. The ones I've met do seem to favor Obama anyway, and they are hopeful that the end of the Bush era will mean progress of some sort towards resolving the issues of Israel-Palestine. By far the best indication I have seen that Obama has made some impact around here is at the seminar I attended this weekend in Beit Jala. Rhetoric about "Change Agents" "yes, we can!" and "everything is possible" permeated the dialogue between Israelis and Palestinians who came together seeking to meet and relate with 'the other.' Many participants are active in different peace initiatives on one or both sides of the conflict and all had powerfiul stories to share.

Being from "Obamaland" made me stick out a bit, as almost everyone there was Israeli or Palestinian, but I had a lot to learn and spent most of my time simply listening to the people who had assembled. This initative was sponsored by the Center for Emerging Futures and was called a Global Village Square meeting. There were about 50 people from all over the West Bank and Israel, including Jerusalem, Hebron, Bethlehem, Ramallah, Akko, Tel Aviv, and Sderot. As you might imagine, the difference of perspectives was phenomenal--some were religiously observant, others quite secular, some were older, some young like me, some immigrants, some refugees, and many who have only known the place where they currently live.

There were many sessions devoted to sharing stories and listening to each other. Then we had Open Space workshops on how we can support one another in starting/continuing projects for peace. One great resource that we discovered is http://www.mepeace.org, an online community of regional peacemakers.

For me, it was most profound to sit and talk with the Israelis, who I rarely interact with outside of checkpoints. I felt that my perspective was significantly broadened through meeting many kind, friendly Israelis who came into the oPT for this meeting. Some of them invited me to watch Shabbat (the travel version which was brought along to the hotel) which was a new experience for me. They also have invited me to celebrate Shabbat with them at some point in the future at their home in Jerusalem. Also I was able to chat extensively with another guy who I hope to visit someday too. He lives in Tel Aviv.

These days I have been fortunate to develop many relationships with locals that has given me a more inside look at life around here. I hope these continue as the days go on!




Posted by Kimberly MacVaugh at 10:00:01 | Permanent Link | Comments (2) |

Saturday, November 01, 2008

Martin Luther and Owen Meany

The Lutheran Church of the Redeemer in the Old City of Jerusalem has a service annually on October 31st, and not for Halloween! No, this day is remembered by many Christians (especially Lutherans) around the world as Reformation Day, a commemoration of that fateful day when Luther nailed his 95 theses to the door of the Wittenberg Church. Now, I am an Episcopanabaptiquaker by virtue of my various religious affiliations over the years and Luther never really grabbed my imagination or my interest too long. I was more into the shady dealings that brought the Anglican Church into being to curb papal power in England or the brilliant, brave martyrs of the brethren who were hunted down across Europe and killed indiscriminately by Lutherans, Calvinists, and Catholics. So I’ve never read his stuff though I’m a bit blindly prejudiced against him based on some things I’ve heard fifth-hand about his views.

 

Maybe it will all change this year with my weekly attendance at Redeemer, and my frequent contact with all the Lutherans in the Holy Land—there are eight American internationals I know in Bethlehem affiliated with them, plus countless in Jerusalem. There are I think at least three Lutheran private schools in Bhem too. They’ve really made a name around here. It’s pretty close to what I’ve experienced service-wise in Episcopal congregations…though I can’t say I know many of the hymns. The service for Reformation day included Arabic, English, Danish, and German speaking congregations that meet there for worship, and what a crowd we were! A school from Bethlehem got their choir kids special permission to enter Israel for their performance and it was great.

 

I’ve heard one good quip here attributed to Luther, that clergy are like manure. Spread them out and they encourage growth, but when all together, they stink. I saw dozens of people in clerical vestments, some not actually from Lutheran churches, but it was funny to see so many in one place. Having three languages alternating was interesting, and it was difficult to sing or recite when the voices around were speaking completely different words. I like though, that pentecostal sense of things, many tongues united for worship.

 

A few days ago I finished a book that I’ve long desired to read based on many positive recommendations: A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving. I think it qualifies as some sort of American classic. I was extremely moved by the narrative and I found myself very much identifying with the voice of Johnny Wheelwright who tells Owen’s story from his perspective. As the best friend of a very unique individual who believes he is directly an instrument of God, Johnny plays the role of “Joseph”, the obedient observer, the man on the sidelines. I don’t want to ruin anything if someone hasn’t had the chance to read it, but it provokes a lot of interesting questions about faith-doubt, divine intervention, miracles-coincidence, the morality of war, etc. All those things that I like to ponder.

 

Especially in the extended scene of the Christmas pageant, I was struck by the story’s resonance with my spiritual journey/personal experience of life in the Episcopal church and then with being here in Bethlehem town—the original. Just as it’s the cast of characters in the pageant who make it profound, it is the living stones, the people of this land that make it holy, not the place itself.

Posted by Kimberly MacVaugh at 07:43:43 | Permanent Link | Comments (1) |

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Update overdue!

An update is long overdue—I have my computer now! By an amazing coincidence, I found out from my Palestinian friend and souvenir shop owner Majdi that someone was coming from Pennsylvania to Bethlehem. When I asked “from where?” he handed me the card of my former Bible professor who now works for CURE international in Lemoyne. Even more impressive, my sister was able to bring it to college with her (no extra trip needed) and hand it over right on campus. So it took no money nor any additional carbon output to get it here : ) Impressive! Yet, I have not really had luck with internet—at work I’ve not succeeded in connecting and at home the wireless has been down for quite a while so it’s not clear if that will be fixed.

 

The MCC administrator Bassem got married last Saturday and the whole office was invited to join in on the festivities. The Church of the Ascension on the grounds of Augusta Victoria Hospital, Jerusalem was the site of the ceremony, it a gorgeous building with elaborate and fantastic paintings on the high ceilings depicting the Ascension of Jesus and other Bible stories. The decorations were very classy and I think the service was very nice, though I couldn’t gather too much from the Arabic. In many ways it compared to the weddings we have in the States, with a processional, an exchange of vows and rings, and a recessional. The couple also took communion. Afterwards we chilled out across the street at the home of the MCC workers there, because it was several hours until the dinner reception which took place in Bethlehem. Bassem’s bride Nora is from Nazareth, so this was a bit of a trek for her family.

 

At the hall, we ate appetizers at the MCC table while awaiting the newlyweds who were off taking pictures. They finally arrived to an indoor entrance with sparklers, inaugurating a session of wild dancing, starring them of course. Their friends lifted them on their shoulders for an amusing scene—it looked like the couple was not too keen on the in air acrobatics. Most everyone was very well dressed—it’s interesting to note that all sorts of attire were evident for the women, from skimpy clubbing outfits to ball gowns and though this was a Christian wedding, many of their Muslim friends celebrated with them, some veiled. It was so fun to dance with everyone—especially the MCCers some of whom have great moves ;)

 

The dancing stopped for the main course, and then Bassem cut the cake—with a sword. No smashing it into each other’s face unfortunately. Their first slow dance was accompanied by fog and fake snow being blown around. The last part of the night (that we stayed for anyway) involved a women’s dance where the females processed in, in the dark with lit candles in hand and dance with the bride—a good photo opp too apparently. Then the men processed in with staffs and fezzes on their heads to do some sort of masculine dancing and hoopla. All in all, a great time. Now Bassem and Nora are honeymooning in Thailand.

 

This Saturday I went to the annual Olive Harvest Festival in Bethlehem’s Manger Square where there were many booths set up for various groups. Mostly handicrafts and local food were on display, but there were some student performances and things as well. Apparently this is a good year for the olives (I believe that every other year has a high yield) and they were selling the first batch of newly pressed oil. Yum! I had a tasty falafel from the best place in town and wandered through the back streets that I haven’t explored yet, finding the market. I was still too timid to engage the clothes vendors though I am in need of some new items (my things seem to wear out so fast!) but hopefully in the coming days I’ll gain courage in shopping here.

 

Meanwhile, fall/winter has hit the area with lots of rain and cold. The high today is supposed to be about 60 degrees Fahrenheit but I think we might not even get there. And there’s no central heating in most (our) houses and offices, so we’re going to have to acquire some gas and/or area-heaters shortly so we don’t freeze our tails off. Though, last winter I lived with a thermostat at 50 so I’m not complaining.

 

If you care to write, my address again is:

Kimberly MacVaugh

PO Box 19208

Jerusalem Israel 91191

Posted by Kimberly MacVaugh at 07:21:46 | Permanent Link | Comments (0) |

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Harvesting Olives on the Mount of Olives

It's hard to imagine a more fitting setting for a first-time olive harvester than the very Mount of Olives. I even know it in Arabic: Jabal iz Zeitoun. Actually there aren't too many olive trees still in the area--it probably wouldn't get that name today. But up at Augusta Victoria Hospital, home to the Lutheran World Federation offices in Jerusalem, from which MCC rents an office, there are over 800 olive trees belonging to LWF which are harvested every year to make Olive Oil which is sold in a fundraiser for the hospital. the Mustasfa (not to brag about my Arabic again...wink) provides care for Palestinian children and adults who have limited resources and they turn no one away. The Lutherans do great things here in the Holy Land. I cannot afford to send home 10 bottles, as is the base amount, but if you are interested in purchasing some of this fundraising oil (in pretty glass bottles) let me know and I can help you.

So on October 11th, friends gathered to kick off the six week season of olive picking by arriving at the LWF grove ready to take down those olives, like yours truly who hadn't a clue what the process might involve. It's actually pretty simple: get the olives down gently and collect them minus branches and stones. We used hand rakes and tarps to increase our efficiency, basically combing the branches so the little olives would plunk onto the tarps and then we could lift them en masse into burlap sacks. Simple doesn't mean easy. It is quite a labor intensive process and the branches are a lot like tangled hair without conditioner that you're going through with a nit comb. Also, olives are really quite heavy when collected. With my friends from church and other places the time was quite fun though, hours of work with plenty of hilarious interludes. At the end of the day we had a celebratory picnic with tasty Palestinian dishes.

I must say that our experience was substantially more pleasant than it will be for many Palestinians whose olive trees are on the wrong side of the wall or in "closed military zones" or near settlements, who will have a terrible time negotiating permissions, attacks, and other obstacles to collecting their harvest. It takes a long time--we got through maybe 30 trees of 800 in one day--and this season is filled with tension and sometimes hardship as people attempt to sustain themselves with the livelihood of olives. Many internationals go out and help with Palestinian olive harvest efforts and there has already been some serious violence in certain areas. Pray that everyone who is harvesting will be able to safely do so and that crops will be plentiful to aid this hard economic time.

Pictures soon!
Posted by Kimberly MacVaugh at 14:32:02 | Permanent Link | Comments (0) |