“Arafat is not a football”, the man sneered at us. We looked at each other bemused, no idea what he was saying. Ignoring him we continued our conversation about Palestine.
My dining companion was an intelligent young Palestinian woman, a work colleague. Our new friend leaned against the bar ranting something in French to no one in particular. Then walked towards us and leered at my friend “Arafat is not a football”, she responded “I know, I’m Palestinian”. He returned to speaking French, we were in Paris, I had no idea what he was saying but I thought she might as she was visibly becoming upset and angry.
I was tempted to say something but I didn’t actually know what he was saying or whether he’d understand me. Before I could give it my best Kiwi “look buddy are you going to leave the lady alone or are we going to take this outside?”, she had said something to him that sent him packing.
Her name was Ayah and we worked together in a small office in St John’s Wood in London, not far from Lords cricket ground. Much of the time it was just the two of us in the office, we would tell each other of our homes and families and I would introduce her to Shihad and Bic Runga.
Sometime a colleague from the San Jose office would join us for a week, so there we would be - myself from NZ, my friend Ayah who was Palestinian, and Ilan a Jewish Californian. It was impossible to avoid discussion of Israel and Palestine, and none of us shied away from doing so.
The Second Intifida was taking place at the time during which approximately 1,000 Israelis and 5,000 Palestinians were killed. 119 Israeli children, age 17 and under, were killed by Palestinians. Over the same time period, 982 Palestinian children, age 17 and under, were killed by Israelis.
I remember in particular the siege of the Palestinian refugee camp in Jenin that year of 2002. It was grotesque in it’s barbarity leading to multiple investigations being made into suspected war crimes.
This morning I turned on the radio to hear the same heartbreaking cycle, we have heard so many times before, reported. We know the order of events.
The Palestinians through frustration at their situation, or under provocation from Israeli incursions into their territory or places of worship, react. An isolated terrorist activity, or perhaps missiles are fired at Israel. This goes on for some weeks and months until the Israelis get fed up and respond with overwhelming, and what often seems hugely disproportionate, military force.
We see the scenes of the Palestinian funerals and then there is another retaliation and a young man commits an attack in Israel with a knife, or a bomb, and kills or wounds Israelis, and the whole thing carries on forever.
This time it was again the Jenin camp, twenty years later:
In the darkness of the night, thousands of people stumbled in lines through the Jenin refugee camp, guiding each other through the twisted metal, churned-up concrete and spent ammunition littering the streets during a lull in Operation Home and Garden, Israel’s biggest offensive in the West Bank for 20 years.
Videos of the streams of people – about 3,000-4,000, according to Palestinian officials – fleeing to safety on Monday night were widely shared by Palestinians on social media, where they were likened to images of the Nakba, the expulsion of the Arab population from the newly created state of Israel in 1948.
The scenes as always are horrific, the plight of the Palestinian people a stain upon the conscience of the world. Not many miles away, it isn’t a big place, Jewish families will be grateful that by chance none of those stabbed this morning were killed. Another Palestinian family will mourn the loss of the young man, just 20, so desperate that he took a knife to somehow fight back and now lies dead. Senseless insanity that benefits no one and ensures that the cycle of hatred and retribution continues.
I recall my 5th form History class, Rotorua BHS in 1987, the key topics were Israel and Northern Ireland. We learned about the complex history of promises and the violence, it was hard to imagine that either situation would ever get resolved.
Skip forwards to 1999, the end of our first OE. The Good Friday agreement had been signed and was coming into effect, it has held remarkably well. There also seemed to be a relatively peaceful time in the Middle East. We said goodbye to dear friends at Heathrow that we thought we’d probably not see again, not imagining we’d be back for another couple of years just 18 months later, and boarded our Egypt Air flight to the middle east.
A couple of weeks later we were crossing by bus at the Rafah border having travelled over the Suez canal and the Sinai to enter Israel. I’d never seen such a contrast in development before. On the left of the bus were high wire fences and Gaza. The land dry and lifeless, looking as undeveloped as it would’ve been when the biblical stories were current events. On the other side were massive modern irrigation schemes and lands that looked lush and plentiful - Israel.
We spent about three weeks travelling around Israel and I fell in love with the place. From the modernity of Tel Aviv to the ancient Crusader ruins at Acre/Akko, visiting the Golan heights where so much conflict had taken place but now people crossed the border daily for work. We cycled around the sea of Galilee and caught the ferry back from a kibbutz where the locals gave us kiwifruit, which they thought was most amusing. Masada, the Dead Sea, but most of all Jerusalem.
That most incredible of cities, we stayed in the old town in the labyrinth of alleyways and markets and took in the history during the day while partying heavily in the hostel bar in the evenings. They served vast vats of strong punch to backpackers from around the world with throbbing music and awaiting bed bugs.
Israel was an easy place to travel, especially for a female. In Egypt Fi, my then fiancée, had been spat at in Coptic Cairo for having bare arms, not in a religious building mind you just on the street. Men leered at her, on the public subway a group of local women crowded around her to prevent the unwanted attention of the men in the carriage. In Jordan a waiter asked me why I let my wife smoke, right in front of her.
Israel was so easy, the place was fascinating with ancient history but modern infrastructure, fabulous food and friendly people. There also seemed to be a lot more mingling between Palestinians and Israelis than I imagined from the news. For the most part it seemed like people were just living their lives side by side.
In the end we stopped in Eilat, down on the Red Sea, and just stayed for I think maybe another ten days. We were tired of travelling and needed to refresh. We stayed in a rambling hostel spread across a couple of houses. There were couches in the backyard for movies in the evening or to watch Rugby World Cup games, which were on at the time. The place was run by an elderly Israeli guy called Aubrey who had many cats which he cared for diligently.
The young guy doing most of the work running the place was a kiwi. He’d been there for five years, I could see why. He and I would play cricket in the abandoned lot next door much to the amusement of the locals. If you hit the ball over the fence it did mean you needed a new ball as the walls had sharp glass shards set into the concrete to prevent anyone jumping over to collect a ball, as you might do back in NZ.
When I see these tragedies happening I think of it through the lens of the people and the places I remember from Israel. When it comes to these horrible events there aren’t goodies and baddies, and there sure as heck are no winners. The thing that is clear to me is the more you get to know people the harder it is to hate them or blame them.
I’m as appalled as anyone by the actions of the Israeli Defence Force and the their government, but I find it hard to direct that anger at the Israeli people. In fact I think the only way that peace will ever be achieved in the region will be if it comes democratically from the people of Israel.
I lost touch with my Palestinian friend Ayah, it is hard to stay in contact with people from the other side of the world when you know you’re unlikely to ever be a regular part of each others lives again. She sent me a nice message when John Key resigned saying she knew how much it would mean to me.
Now today Fi and I have a different reason to think of Israel. Our daughter’s boyfriend is Israeli, from the exotic location of Glen Eden. He was in Israel for a long trip recently and every report of a rocket attack while he was there was so much closer to home. He is back now safely, thankfully.
It has been great to see my daughter learn more about events, the history, and in particular about Jewish culture, spending time with his family for various holidays or occasions that are very foreign to us.
Learning more about each other seems to me the only path towards any sort of solution. The more we do the more we see ourselves in the other. That we want the same things - to live peaceful lives and for safe and happy futures for our children.
Salam. Shalom. Peace.
I leave you with Tim Minchin, who has thought of an unusual approach to bringing peace to the region.
Please note the key in the graph I used earlier was incorrectly labeled, it's been replaced by an accurate one now.
Thank you Nick! Much enjoyed your sane sharing.👍