Sun. JULY 2 : Immaculate Contraception in Nazareth

I'm in Nazareth now. Since we were unable to stay in Ramallah, we were moved to another intership here. As soon as I found out there was no internet service in the hotel and not internet cafes in all of Nazareth I lost it. I literally cried myself to sleep on Friday night when we arrived. After the dinner with the 3000 old people from Barcelona, the nun cutting in front of me in life, the little old ladies pushing and shoving me, the internet thing made me lose it.

After a good nights sleep, I decided to look at all the positive aspects of the change in my internship. I'm no longer in Ramallah where movement and travel is severely restricted. This town has a shisha (hooka) bar that shows all the soccer games. Almost everyone is a Germany fan! Go figure! There are markets to buy food, pharmacies to buy meds and plenty of shoe stores. I think I'm going to be ok.

As you can tell, I finally have access to the internet. We're allowed to use the general manager's office any time we'd like. We, myself and three other girls, have literally taken over the town. The hotel's executive lounge is basically our little hang out area. We are now the proud owners of a coffee machine, blender and George Foreman grill. Yes, it's true. We actually found a shop that sells all these lovely items and decided that since we will be living here for over a month, we might as well make it our little home. We're in the process of stealing some silverware, plates and cups from the hotel restaurant. We're just two spoons shy of a 4 person set:)

Today we took a cab to the Sea of Galilee. We found a little beach club that served Bacardi Breezes and french fries. I'm hoping to get the photos of the day trip up soon. I'm having trouble posting them to this blog for some reason. I don't think I've ever seen so many men in speedos in my life. There was one man in particular that I have to tell you about. He was a guy in his 70s, about 5'3", with a little belly. He walked around the place like he owned it and he probably did. The best part was that he wore bright yellow rubber clogs and a cowboy hat with his tiny black speedo. It was a riot to watch him drink beer and jump rope (yes, he jumped rope in a speedo...With his clogs on). He also had a jet ski that he rode around and showed off on. It was just lovely. It really was.

It was nice to relax today. It's been a tough week and my internship starts tomorrow. It's almost 11pm now. I better get going.

much love,
waj

Tues. JUNE 27 - Kiss and Tel Aviv

As soon as I got onto the bus this morning to Tel Aviv, I knew something wrong with me. My stomach churned, my head was spinning. Nothing to worry about really, this had happened before. All I needed was some fresh air and a few moments to let it pass. I hadn’t had much sleep and very little time to relax. My body was just reacting to the strict schedule. It would pass.
Five minutes passed and the pain hadn’t let up. I was nauseous now. My head continued to spin. I could handle this though. Someone brought me a trash can and some paper towels. I was going to be ok, no problem.

Three minutes passed. The ride was smooth and we were making good time. I would be in Tel Aviv soon with my classmates and the "sickness" would be over with.
Another five minutes passed and I felt a sudden pain in my lower abdomen. You all know the pain I’m talking about. The twisting pain of things unsaid deep in your bowels, the kind of pain that can only mean one thing. Oh yes my friends. It was TIME! Something was going to come out and it could possibly come out of either end. Things were no longer "okay." This would not just "pass."
At the exact moment of the inception of such bodily pain deep within me, we hit one of the worst traffic jams I’ve ever seen.

Two minutes later I was pacing the isle of the bus. Everyone asked if I was ok and whether they should pull over for me to puke. I could in no way let anyone know that puking was the last thing on my mind! This was a life and death situation. I needed a bathroom ASAP! As I paced, I kept thinking of all the horrible outcomes. Traffic would not let up. I skooched over to Nancy, one of our program coordinators, and in the most delicate of ways told her about my "situation." She understood and proceeded to tell Yehuda.

I have to take a moment from this very thrilling/cliff hanging story to tell you about Yehuda, the director of my progam. Yehuda Lucaks is an interesting man. He’s extremely well versed in what seems to be …everything. How can I describe him? He’s about 5’10" with a bit of a belly. Yehuda has the most amazing hair. It’s always perfectly quaffed. I can’t tell you how impressive it really is. The man in smart, confident and well rounded. He is a very reserved man. Everyone on the trip is intimidated by him. His answers to questions can be short, sometimes curt. Because of his vast knowledge, he comes off as being superior and I don’t think he knows it. You just can’t help admiring him. He’s not the most approachable guy, he’s very distant, almost aloof. This confidence in him makes me want so much to gain his approval. I can’t help it!
So when Nancy told Yehuda that I had impending diaria, I almost died. Jesus! Woman, can’t you just tell him I’m about to puke or something? Make something up!

Two minutes pass and still no sign of the traffic letting up. I look longingly at the bushes on the side of the road. I wouldn’t mind going behind one of them. I don’t care anymore. I can no longer hold it in! But, I force myself to hold on. I can see the white towers of Tel Aviv in the distance. I can make it!

Thirty seconds pass. When the hell are we going to get there! I clench my butt cheeks tighter. Hold on Wajmah! I imagine myself squatting behind a bush on the side of the busiest highway in the country. I would never be able to live it down. I must wait!

Ten seconds later. Our father, who art in heaven, hallow be thy name, …….. Please God, if you can hear me, I beg you. God, please speed this traffic up. God, please let there be an exit with a rest area. God, I will never ever take thy name in vain again, or waste food, or lie, or kick a kitten. Please dear Lord! Save me Jebus! My butt cheeks are beginning to ache.

Fifteen seconds later. Nancy is pushing Yehuda to make the bus driver go faster. She understands my pain, bless her heart. She is a good woman.

Three seconds later. I’m going to kill Nancy, Yehuda and the bus driver. Damn them. For what reason, I don’t know. I’m just angry at this point.

Ten seconds later. We’re in the city and the bus driver has missed a gas station. My butt is revolting against me, my cheeks refuse to clench anymore. We drive around the city for another 10 minutes, which to me seems like an eternity.

Someone spots a pool with a bathroom sign! STOP THE DAMN BUS! The bus comes to a screeching halt; I fly out and run towards the sacred little 4x6 bathroom. I am saved!

The dramatic events that took place today did not end there. The bus left to drop off the other students at a meeting and came back to pick me up. The driver, Samer, offered me what looked like an Immodium AD packet. He said he took it every time he had an upset stomach. I thanked him and without thinking popped a pill with a huge gulp of water. I had just spent time throwing up and also well..you know. I didn’t even think to read the packet label. Anything right now would be helpful.

The program directors have an apartment in Tel Aviv. The bus driver would drop me and Yehuda off and then go back to fetch the students who would spend the rest of the day on the beach. Yes, you read right. Yehuda was taking care of me. This was my opportunity to gain his fatherly affections. So what if I was sick, it gave me an excuse to gain his sympathy. Halfway to the apartment, my palms started to itch. This was odd. All of the sudden, my arms were covered in hives. My neck and face felt hot. Without turning around, Yehuda asked how I was doing from the front seat of the bus. "I’m getting hives" I said in a desperate attempt to get his attention. "Don’t worry, we’ll go to a pharmacy" he said coolly. Damn him!

I did finally make it to the apartment. I passed out after taking some allergy medication. I think it was the Israeli version of Benedril. I knew the hives all over my body the size of pancakes were from the medicine that the bus driver gave me. I wasn’t going to say anything though. How stupid was I to just take medicine from some stranger? It turns out that I had a bad case of food poisoning. It could have been the watery eggs or mini sausages I had for breakfast. It could have been that single dried fig I ate before my breakfast. I had tucked one from the PLC's office before leaving. I’m just thankful that the outcome wasn’t as embarrassing as it could have been.

So I missed all the fun at the beach. But I did feel better after sleeping the whole day. The moral of the story? Don’t eat a dried fig in the morning or take medication that says "Palestine Pharmacy" on the package.

Monday, JUNE 26

The latest news is that the Isreali soldier is still missing and that a settler has been abducted and taken into Ramallah. I've learned all this from news on CNN, Fox News and Haaretz. You wouldn't know it driving around Israel unless you're looking for the news. Daily life in Jerusalem goes on as if there is no conflict in Gaza. People go about their daily lives, buying groceries, smoking nagilla, enjoying the world cup. What can one do? They’re so used to conflict, so used to the situation changing day to day in the territories and within Israel. Have no fear, as far as we know, we are safe here and very far away from the craziness in the strip. If anything were to happen, we would be the very first on a plane out of here.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, we were able to visit the Palestinian Legislative Council, the Palestinian Liberation Organization and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. We literally heard the same political jargon from everyone. The head of the PLC (Palestine’s equivalent to our Congress) is a member of Hamas. He was a charming old man with a big beard who studied in Philadelphia. At the end of our briefing with him, I went over to shake his hand but he hesitated. Many men in Islam are not allowed to touch another woman including shaking hands. It’s the same with women. It’s funny because he continually claimed to be more of a Philadelphian than a Palestinian yet he was so overly religious. It just caught me off guard.

After meeting the Palestinian government in Ramallah we headed toward the Qalandia refugee camp. There we visited the house of a 16 year old "martyr" named Ferris. Ferris was at a demonstration against the Israeli occupation (a common occurrence within both the West Bank and Gaza). Ferris was throwing rocks at the Israeli soldiers from about 100 meters away. The Israeli soldiers began to shoot at Ferris and his friends. Ferris died of a bullet through his left eye. "Um-Ferris" or "mother of Ferris" invited us into her house where the walls were covered with photos of her late son. A larger than life size "martyr poster" hung on the small living room wall. Um-Ferris spoke of her first born with tears in her eyes. She beat her chest when she recounted the events that occurred 3 years ago. She still lives, breathes and thinks of Ferris. Her whole life and the life of her family revolve around the late Ferris. Ferris’ younger brother and 4 sisters have a hard time in school and in life since his death. The daughters wake up crying for him. "For Ferris": "because of Ferris" : "everything for Ferris."

She kept saying that at 16, throwing rocks was just child’s play. "They are only children doing what they do." "I have no control over kids." "They are just being kids." Did she not know that such "games" have causes so many problems in the past? That excuse made me angry. I strongly believe it is up to the parents to teach their children right from wrong. I know it’s not a fair fight; guns vs stones. But all the same, wouldn’t a parent warn his or her children about such dangers? At what age does it stop becoming child’s play? Are any of the parents in this camp against this?

There is no way I can relate the pain that is caused by losing one’s child. I cannot image the sense of loss. I grieved with the mother for the loss of Ferris, but I was also tremendously sad for her, her remaining children and her husband. The parents had completely given up on life; their lives and the lives of their children. I cannot say that someone should get over anyone’s death but this woman refused to move on. Is that too harsh of me? Am I wrong? I know I wasn’t the only one who felt this way upon leaving Ferris’ home. There was no hope in their minds, in their house. It was painfully sad.

After leaving Um-Ferris’ home, we traveled to the house of a young man who was shot 36 times in his leg by an Israeli soldier. He was merely in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was a yet another story that is not so rare in this region. The children in the camp followed us wherever we went. The other students passed out bags full of candy to them. All the children hesitated at first but then they succumbed to the temptation. All the children except one; his name was also Ferris. He was a chubby boy with a dirty face and sneakers that were at least 5 sizes too large. He yelled at the other kids for taking the candy. I attempted to talk to him about why he was so angry but he kept acting like a smart ass. I caught him bullying a few of the kids and actually slapping one boy up against his head for taking candy. I quickly went the boy’s aid and got mad at Ferris. I gave him a dirty look and told him to stop. He did so, completely shocked that I would have the guts to get mad at him. He was embarrassed and at the same time intrigued by the fact that I got mad at him.

A few minutes later I approached him, feeling bad that I had gotten mad at him. I smiled at him, he smiled back. I asked if we could be friends, he nodded. We walked for a bit and talked about soccer. He had a crayon in his hand that he pretended to smoke from time to time. I told him it was a bad habit and that he should quit, he said he would. In fact, I made him promise. He finally allowed me to take photos of him and the other kids also. I think I made a friend. Check out the photos.