Say My Name... in Vain
We went along the silk roads to meet with Middle Eastern merchants who sold textiles from China and spices from India.
Lines of stores with Russian women filled the streets with stores filled with Israeli men selling anything from brooms to strollers to fish to houses to skirts to spices to even tattoos. My eyes ran back and forth from one side to the other while I didn't risk crossing the street. The old Arabian district of Ashqelon with the new machinery of cars that seem to only car about their path and not the curbs in their way mind you the other cars. (Although when a friend is spotted, they stop as they would without wheels. Mishmas!)
Since stores close at three for lunch, I have a whole list of things I need to buy:
A souvenir for my parents
A tapestry that fits him better than the holed one he has and that was used to star gaze when we were young and spitting invites with lies of conformation
A white skirt for a photo shoot I swear will fit in my schedule
Something humorous that only my friend and I would understand
Dead Sea products for my grandmother that once brought me a rock of salt from the very sea to a wide-eyed me who swore she would have her own one day
Tapers for my holy ears that listen to the cries of those around
Something overly jewish for my step father to poke fun of his devotion but honor his efforts and potentially encourage them
And whatever I find fabulous along the way
Things I have bought:
An Ethiopian spice I only nibbled on in said specialty spice store which tasted like lavender mixed with a nutmeg earthiness.
A cayenne tasting spice that might have paprika and red peppercorns
Three sticks of lethal cinnamon as I am allergic
Little clover-looking peppermint-smelling pods of spice --holy lord I want to hang them around my house and inhale their every last bit
Inscents from India that smell sweeter than jasmine and more mesmerizing than roses
An authentic Fiddler on the Roof with no roof but rather sandy roads
A Buddha made to fit in the pocket of a traveler with his own traveling sack
Wooden coloring pencils from Sycamore trees
One golden elephant riding on the back of the second which opens up to house whatever small desires it may
Floral scarves, one green and yellow with the second a mix between red and blue used for head wrapping
But no matter how much money I spend in the stores, no matter how high the tax I pay (4.53 percent to be a little more exact) I will never be able to give enough to repair the broken city.
Let me explain. Israel held home to some of the first humans to walk the Earth so shit has happened. Once a cultural hearth for the Egyptians whose Jewish Pharaoh defended his people repeatedly to an Assryian raid on the divided Israelites formed by King Solomon who made the first temple. Ouch. But it gets worse. After a series of switches of religious practices (from Judaism to freedom to Christianity to Muslim with the rise of Mohammed) and leading parties, the massacre awoke once more with the crusades (a mass religious genocide against the jews and muslims) ending with the Sultan rule. Now here comes the confusion. In 1799, the shoed off Jews from Europe located in Israel were promised a separate state by Napoleon but that never came to be... Instead more Arabians were moved in due to the Ottoman succession and Arab revolt. But the Jews kept coming. European nations simply rejected the religion and where were the people to go? Home --the holy land. Mind you that this was all before the state was even established as Israel.
Only in 1921 was the land of Palestine designated as the home for the Jews. But wait... What about the Arabians? Right, they were rejected. This kept enlarging the Arabian revolts until they screamed for independence. Sadly, independence led Britain --the main initiator --to no longer accept Palestine as an Arabian place, only Jewish. The land reduced as power countries debated until the tables turned. Now the Jews could no longer purchase Palestinian land. At this rate, the Jewish people had came in boat fills crowding the country. And then came the holocaust. The Jews were slaves and the spiral --this never ending cycle --got longer.
I hate to cut the history here but there is far too much. In short, Israel was established as a separate country and the palestinians were left in the cold with little to no place to call home. Instead, they were shoed off to the Gaza strip.
The Palestinians' and Israelis' battle was always lethal but in 2000, a series of bombings from both sides, destroying homes and shines led to a peace treaty but a bandaid over a broken bone only looks pretty. Now I get why the people are upset --when their neighbors believe a peace treaty is temporary and the holocaust was a mirage and proceed bombing people, I would be too. Iran, a mainly muslim state, was threatening nuclear power against Israel. Like every country, illegals are also a problem but here they come from Africa and as a coincidence are Muslim. The battle in Gaza seems to never end as the deaths climb with shootings and negotiations between the Israelis and Palestinians who just cannot seem to live in peace.
The sand is not clean, the red storms are tears of those long gone.
There is unrest.
And the people know this far better than I do.
"The Palestinians just can't seem to live with us."
"A little boy just kept throwing rocks at me since I was lighter than him"
"How can Obama leave us bare and side with the Palestinians? Haven't we given enough?"
"Putin should take us too. We're broke with social loans declining and house costs rising. We will be your second Crimean."
"The Bedouin (traditional way --early Israeli settlers who roam the dessert) are thieves. They take signs and sell them off only to have the government pay more. Uneducated. Sure they are nice to tourists but they are sneaking and lazying --an attraction at our expense."
"How can the orthodox just pray as we work double? They populate worse than rabbits."
"If you get lost in the Arabian side, we might as well say good bye now."
Sure this is biased but even Wikipedia is biased and I haven't had the opportunity to ask around --I am no corespondent, simply a global citizen with far too much curiosity and not enough fear. But I have felt the same bias towards me even though I am completely unrelated to either story.
When walking down the streets of old Ashqelon, the forgotten Arabian village, simply being a woman got me derogatory looks --nothing new-- but what was were the snarls I saw across their faces as I wiped out money to pay for my own coffee. What was new was that fact that they growled at my bare skin. I felt as though I was disrespecting their family --their name without even being aware of what cultural aspect I was breaking. Simply being white and a woman made me the target of hatred.
Being white in an old Arabian town was also not the smartest decision as we --the tourists --were taking away what was already slim. Doom --doom from the eyes of the men who watched my grandmother and I walk spitting some tongue at us as we crossed the street, doom from their unwillingness to offer us service, doom from their stiffened muscles as they walked a little brisker saying absolutely nothing with their heads down.
Maybe I'm missing something. Maybe I am misinterpreting since I am white and woman. But the point still stands --this country is broken and the money from tourists is not glue.
How can people hate one another even though they are not to blame? How can an Arabian boy be called stupid because he plays soccer in the streets while an Israeli girl dances barefoot? How can one beaten group attempt to destroy a second when they initially never harmed one another? How can people miles away from each other imagine the others burning in hell?
Because if hell opens up, it's taking all of us with it. Because some book destined holy calls for one religion to destroy another because they call the same clouds different gods. Because we need a place to send our bombs and not just implode. We need the fucking fireworks --we need a celebration --we need to watch someone suffer to know we are okay.
We're all red on the inside --we don't need to prove that by demolishing ourselves.
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Lines of stores with Russian women filled the streets with stores filled with Israeli men selling anything from brooms to strollers to fish to houses to skirts to spices to even tattoos. My eyes ran back and forth from one side to the other while I didn't risk crossing the street. The old Arabian district of Ashqelon with the new machinery of cars that seem to only car about their path and not the curbs in their way mind you the other cars. (Although when a friend is spotted, they stop as they would without wheels. Mishmas!)
Since stores close at three for lunch, I have a whole list of things I need to buy:
A souvenir for my parents
A tapestry that fits him better than the holed one he has and that was used to star gaze when we were young and spitting invites with lies of conformation
A white skirt for a photo shoot I swear will fit in my schedule
Something humorous that only my friend and I would understand
Dead Sea products for my grandmother that once brought me a rock of salt from the very sea to a wide-eyed me who swore she would have her own one day
Tapers for my holy ears that listen to the cries of those around
Something overly jewish for my step father to poke fun of his devotion but honor his efforts and potentially encourage them
And whatever I find fabulous along the way
Things I have bought:
An Ethiopian spice I only nibbled on in said specialty spice store which tasted like lavender mixed with a nutmeg earthiness.
A cayenne tasting spice that might have paprika and red peppercorns
Three sticks of lethal cinnamon as I am allergic
Little clover-looking peppermint-smelling pods of spice --holy lord I want to hang them around my house and inhale their every last bit
Inscents from India that smell sweeter than jasmine and more mesmerizing than roses
An authentic Fiddler on the Roof with no roof but rather sandy roads
A Buddha made to fit in the pocket of a traveler with his own traveling sack
Wooden coloring pencils from Sycamore trees
One golden elephant riding on the back of the second which opens up to house whatever small desires it may
Floral scarves, one green and yellow with the second a mix between red and blue used for head wrapping
But no matter how much money I spend in the stores, no matter how high the tax I pay (4.53 percent to be a little more exact) I will never be able to give enough to repair the broken city.
Let me explain. Israel held home to some of the first humans to walk the Earth so shit has happened. Once a cultural hearth for the Egyptians whose Jewish Pharaoh defended his people repeatedly to an Assryian raid on the divided Israelites formed by King Solomon who made the first temple. Ouch. But it gets worse. After a series of switches of religious practices (from Judaism to freedom to Christianity to Muslim with the rise of Mohammed) and leading parties, the massacre awoke once more with the crusades (a mass religious genocide against the jews and muslims) ending with the Sultan rule. Now here comes the confusion. In 1799, the shoed off Jews from Europe located in Israel were promised a separate state by Napoleon but that never came to be... Instead more Arabians were moved in due to the Ottoman succession and Arab revolt. But the Jews kept coming. European nations simply rejected the religion and where were the people to go? Home --the holy land. Mind you that this was all before the state was even established as Israel.
Only in 1921 was the land of Palestine designated as the home for the Jews. But wait... What about the Arabians? Right, they were rejected. This kept enlarging the Arabian revolts until they screamed for independence. Sadly, independence led Britain --the main initiator --to no longer accept Palestine as an Arabian place, only Jewish. The land reduced as power countries debated until the tables turned. Now the Jews could no longer purchase Palestinian land. At this rate, the Jewish people had came in boat fills crowding the country. And then came the holocaust. The Jews were slaves and the spiral --this never ending cycle --got longer.
I hate to cut the history here but there is far too much. In short, Israel was established as a separate country and the palestinians were left in the cold with little to no place to call home. Instead, they were shoed off to the Gaza strip.
The Palestinians' and Israelis' battle was always lethal but in 2000, a series of bombings from both sides, destroying homes and shines led to a peace treaty but a bandaid over a broken bone only looks pretty. Now I get why the people are upset --when their neighbors believe a peace treaty is temporary and the holocaust was a mirage and proceed bombing people, I would be too. Iran, a mainly muslim state, was threatening nuclear power against Israel. Like every country, illegals are also a problem but here they come from Africa and as a coincidence are Muslim. The battle in Gaza seems to never end as the deaths climb with shootings and negotiations between the Israelis and Palestinians who just cannot seem to live in peace.
The sand is not clean, the red storms are tears of those long gone.
There is unrest.
And the people know this far better than I do.
"The Palestinians just can't seem to live with us."
"A little boy just kept throwing rocks at me since I was lighter than him"
"How can Obama leave us bare and side with the Palestinians? Haven't we given enough?"
"Putin should take us too. We're broke with social loans declining and house costs rising. We will be your second Crimean."
"The Bedouin (traditional way --early Israeli settlers who roam the dessert) are thieves. They take signs and sell them off only to have the government pay more. Uneducated. Sure they are nice to tourists but they are sneaking and lazying --an attraction at our expense."
"How can the orthodox just pray as we work double? They populate worse than rabbits."
"If you get lost in the Arabian side, we might as well say good bye now."
Sure this is biased but even Wikipedia is biased and I haven't had the opportunity to ask around --I am no corespondent, simply a global citizen with far too much curiosity and not enough fear. But I have felt the same bias towards me even though I am completely unrelated to either story.
When walking down the streets of old Ashqelon, the forgotten Arabian village, simply being a woman got me derogatory looks --nothing new-- but what was were the snarls I saw across their faces as I wiped out money to pay for my own coffee. What was new was that fact that they growled at my bare skin. I felt as though I was disrespecting their family --their name without even being aware of what cultural aspect I was breaking. Simply being white and a woman made me the target of hatred.
Being white in an old Arabian town was also not the smartest decision as we --the tourists --were taking away what was already slim. Doom --doom from the eyes of the men who watched my grandmother and I walk spitting some tongue at us as we crossed the street, doom from their unwillingness to offer us service, doom from their stiffened muscles as they walked a little brisker saying absolutely nothing with their heads down.
Maybe I'm missing something. Maybe I am misinterpreting since I am white and woman. But the point still stands --this country is broken and the money from tourists is not glue.
How can people hate one another even though they are not to blame? How can an Arabian boy be called stupid because he plays soccer in the streets while an Israeli girl dances barefoot? How can one beaten group attempt to destroy a second when they initially never harmed one another? How can people miles away from each other imagine the others burning in hell?
Because if hell opens up, it's taking all of us with it. Because some book destined holy calls for one religion to destroy another because they call the same clouds different gods. Because we need a place to send our bombs and not just implode. We need the fucking fireworks --we need a celebration --we need to watch someone suffer to know we are okay.
We're all red on the inside --we don't need to prove that by demolishing ourselves.
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