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Reflections

Ahlan wa sahlan

From my apartment in Nablus, West Bank, the Call to Prayer echoes through the city as I read about a wave of Islamophobia in the U.S.

I walk out of my apartment complex, ready to go to a meeting.  A taxi driver honks as he passes me to see if I need a lift.  I nod and he stops.  “Balad?” I ask.  He nods to say he’s headed downtown.  He asks where I’m from.  “Amrika,” I respond.  “Ahlan wa sahlan,” he says, welcoming me to Nablus.  Sometimes, if the driver speaks more English, he’ll ask if I like it here, “You like Nablus?”  I always respond with an enthusiastic yes.  I love Nablus.

I am embarrassed by the fear and hate aimed at Muslims while I am here, being hosted and heartily welcomed by my Muslim neighbors.

As Nicholas Kristof said in his September 18th Op-Ed, we owe Muslims an apology.

At home in Chicago, one of my friends graciously invited me to many of the feasts and celebrations she attended with her fellow Muslims.  I would typically be the only non-Muslim in the room.  We’d welcome each other with, “As-Salamu Alaykum” and eat together.  I would come home with henna decorating my hands and an invitation to the next feast.  One time, a woman recognized me from an event a few weeks before.  “What, do you just like hanging out with Muslims or something?” she asked, incredulously.  My answer was simply, “Yes.”  She laughed.  I walked out the door with a plate of leftovers.

To those Muslims who welcomed me into their homes in Chicago, and to my friend who so enthusiastically toted me with her, I apologize.

At home in Chicago, I once attended bible study with my friend’s young adult group.  The discussion was about Christian values.  More specifically, that Christian values are more ethical than others.  That they are better.  I thought about those I love who are not Christian, who teach me on a daily basis how to be a better person because of their personal values and ethics.  I disagreed vocally.  The youth pastor responded by quoting a book he read and telling me that a Muslim he knows agrees with him.

To those Muslims who are treated as though their values are inferior, I apologize.

Once, a taxi driver pulled up to the place where he was dropping me off and, before I got out, said, “I like the American people, but I do not like the policies of the American government.  Go home.  Tell them what you see.”

To my Muslim friends and neighbors in Palestine, I apologize for the acts of hate and the words expressed in ignorance of your faith.  The slurs against Muslims that you hear in mass media coming from America, do not represent the beliefs of all Americans.  They do not represent my beliefs.

I shared Kristof’s article, “Is This America?” on my facebook page and I made this comment along with it, “I am embarrassed to hear about acts of intolerance and hate against Muslims while being welcomed and hosted by my Palestinian friends and neighbors who are Muslim. This cannot be America.”

Nearly immediately one of my Nablusi friends replied, “We are all alone against the whole universe :(.”

Others quickly replied with words of encouragement for my Nablusi friend.  One of my Facebook friends sent me a message urging me to remember the tolerance in America, and saying that this anti-Islam sentiment is exaggerated by the media.

Undoubtedly the media is making the most of this debate.  Just like my Facebook friend said, mass media is not jumping to tell the heartwarming stories about people getting along and learning from each other.  But, in the end, I’m glad I know about the pastor who said he would burn the Koran, because only then do we have the opportunity to verbally revolt against his ignorance.

And I am proud of those who practice tolerance and acceptance in America.

Every Friday night in Chicago, for example, Cafe Pride is hopping.  Cafe Pride welcomes homeless, LGBTQ kids, many of whom are racial minorities, into Lakeview Presbyterian Church for an evening of music, movies, snacks, games, socializing and most importantly, acceptance.  These kids are often outcast from their own home for their sexual identity.  But they are welcome in this church.

Americans should not forget that there are amazing places, like Cafe Pride, that celebrate diversity and exemplify acceptance.

But, in celebrating that there is acceptance, we must not forget to challenge ignorance.  The two go hand-in-hand.

We cannot miss the opportunity to express dissent against racism, intolerance and ignorance.  I want to look back at this time, September 2010, and be able to say that I spoke up against intolerance against Muslims in America.  I didn’t simply consider all the great things America is doing, I spoke up to encourage us to do even more great things.

The America I know and love, is one that celebrates each other’s differences.  This place filled with Islamophobia, that I hear about everyday in the news, cannot be America.  We can do better.

Please read the article below.  You can read the original article at the Palestine Chronicle.

Regarding US Muslims: A Misguided Debate

By Ramzy Baroud

Laurie Goodstein’s article, ‘American Muslims Ask, Will We Ever Belong?’ was intended as a sympathetic reading of the concerns of US Muslim communities facing increasing levels of hostility and fear. While generally insightful and sensibly written, the article also highlights the very misconceptions that riddle the bizarre debate pitting American Muslims against much of the government, the mainstream media and most of the general public.

This is how Goodstein lays the ground for her discussion: “For nine years after the attacks of Sept. 11, many American Muslims made concerted efforts to build relationships with non-Muslims, to make it clear they abhor terrorism, to educate people about Islam and to participate in interfaith service projects. They took satisfaction in the observations by many scholars that Muslims in America were more successful and assimilated than Muslims in Europe.” (New York Times, September 5, 2010)

This argument is not Goodstein’s alone, but one repeated by many in the media, the general public, and even among American Muslims themselves. The insinuation of the above context is misleading, and the timeline is selective.

True, it largely depends on who you ask, but there seem is more than one timeline in this narrative. The mainstream interpretation envisages the conflict as beginning with the hideous bombings on September 11, 2001. All that has happened since becomes justified with the claim that ‘Muslims’ started it. These same ‘Muslims’, some argue, are now twisting the knife by wanting to build a mosque not too far from Ground Zero, and they must be stopped. The media fan the flames of this fear, while unknown, attention-hungry zealots propose to burn the holy book of Islam. Scheming rightwing politicians jump on board, fiery media commentators go wild with speculations, and the public grow increasingly terrified of what the Muslims might do. Even the sensible among all of these groups advise Muslims to basically try to make themselves more likable, to assimilate and fit in better.

That timeline and logic may be omnipresent in mainstream society in the US, but many on the fringes dare to challenge it. More, throughout Muslim-majority countries, in fact most of the world, September 11, 2001 was one station, however bloody, among many equally bloody episodes that defined the relationship between Muslims and the United States. Again, it all depends on who you ask. An Iraqi might locate the origin of hostilities with the Iraq war of 1990-91, and the deadly sanctions that followed, taking millions of civilian lives over the next decade. Some Muslims might cite the US military presence in holy Muslim lands, or their intervention in Muslim countries’ affairs. They may also point to the US government’s support of vile and brutal regimes around the world.

But the vast majority, while acknowledging all of these, will refer to the genesis of all hostilities – before Saddam Hussein existed on the map of Arab politics, and before Osama bin Laden led Arab fighters in Afghanistan, with the direct support of the US, to defeat the Soviets. It is the tragedy in Palestine that has continued to pain Muslims everywhere, regardless of their background, politics or geographic location. They know that without US help, Israel would have no other option but to extend its hand to whatever peace offer enjoys international consensus. With every Palestinian killed, an American flag is burned, since the relationship has been delineated with immense clarity for decades. When US General David Petraeus argued last March that the Israeli-Palestinian conflict was fomenting anti-American sentiment, he spoke as a military man stating a fact. He was right, although many continue to ignore his remarks at their own peril.

True, timelines can be selective, but empathy requires one to understand another’s perspective and not just one’s own.

The Florida Priest on a mission to burn the Koran needs to see past his own terrible prejudices. Media commentators need to stop pigeonholing Muslims, and realize that there is no such thing as a Muslim polity in America. There is no truth to the idea that all Muslims hold the same religious values and political aspirations which are at constant odds with ‘American values’, and which need to be amended in order to make peace with their ‘new’ surroundings.

Needless to say, talks of ‘assimilation’ are misguided. Muslims have lived in the United States for generations and have become an essential part of American life. Millions of US Muslims are also African American. Do they too need to assimilate? And if not, should we divide American Muslims to groups based on ethnic background, skin color, or some other criterion?

One cannot offer simple recipes by calling on the general public to adopt this belief or ditch another. Public opinion is formulated through a complex process in which the media is a major player. However, it is essential that one remembers that history is much more encompassing and cannot be hostage to our diktats and priorities. Such selective understanding will surely result in a limited understanding of the world and its shared future, and thus a misguided course of action.

That said, Muslims must not fall into the trap of victimhood, and start dividing the world into good and evil, the West and Muslims, and so on. How could one make such generalized claims and still remain critical of the notion of a ‘clash of civilizations’? It remains that many Americans who have a negative perception of Muslims are not motivated by ideological convictions or religious zealotry. Most American clergy are not Koran-burning hateful priests, and not all media pundits are Bill O’Reilly.

There is no question that the conflict remains largely political. Misconceptions and misperceptions, manipulated by ill-intentioned politicians, media cohorts and substantiated by violence and war will not be resolved overnight. However, hundreds of interfaith dialogues and conferences will not change much as long as American armies continue to roam Muslim countries, support Israel and back corrupt leaders. Reducing the issue by signaling out a Muslim community in this country and then calling on frightened and fragmented communities to ‘make more effort’ is unfair and simply futile.

– Ramzy Baroud (www.ramzybaroud.net) is an internationally-syndicated columnist and the editor of PalestineChronicle.com. His latest book is My Father Was a Freedom Fighter: Gaza’s Untold Story (Pluto Press, London), now available on Amazon.com.

Olive trees and Iftar

Nasreen and her siblings

One of my Advanced English students, Nasreen (she’s wearing the white headscarf in this photo), invited me for Ramadan iftar (dinner) with her family on September 5th.  She lives in a village near Nablus, called Sarra.  We ate on their second floor porch with a beautiful view of the magnificent sunset and the hilly, desert countryside spottedwith olive trees and villages.

This view was marred by a huge fire in the distance.  Olive trees belonging to Sarra farmers and farmers in a neighboring village were enveloped in huge flames.

Her family looked at the fire, and looked at each other.  It was nothing new or surprising.  Imagine watching your neighbor’s garage go up in flames and think, “Well, this happens all the time.”  We continued to eat dinner.  There is nothing they can do to prevent it.  Nothing they can do to stop it.  They can only watch.

Fire in Sarra

Israeli Army jeeps drove by the fire and did nothing. This happens all over the West Bank all the time, especially in villages like Sarra, that are surrounded in all directions by Israeli settlements.  Did this make the news?

No.

Fire in Sarra

Waiting to Pray

People go to their respective places of worship everyday.  They go up the steps and walk in the door, maybe to the sound of birds chirping, buses whirring past or a choir beginning to sing.  Here in the West Bank, the Call to Prayer is a beautiful sound of celebratory prayer, especially the evening prayer immediately before Muslims break their fast during Ramadan.  Each time I hear it, I think about those waiting in line to pray at the mosque in Hebron.

This is what it sounds like when Muslims try to enter the Ibrahimi Mosque in Hebron to pray, guarded by Israeli soldiers with machine guns and two turnstiles.

A Response to Friedman’s NYT Op-Ed, “Steal This Movie”

First, please Read Friedman’s article.

On August 7, 2010, Friedman stated, “If you convey to Israelis that you understand the world they’re living in, and then criticize, they’ll listen.”

I struggle deeply with this.  First, because I do believe it’s important to listen to both sides of an issue. But I also firmly believe, especially in the instance of the Israeli/Palestinian conflict, that it’s important to then form an opinion, and act.  Friedman’s article requests that we do what is already being done, especially by the media: understand Israel’s situation.  Where does Palestine fit into this?  Is it forgotten, once again in the shadow of understanding Israel’s situation?

I live in Nablus, West Bank.  I’m not an academic.  I’m not a historian.  I make no claims of even understanding the conflict, to be frank.  But I see evidence of the Israeli occupation every day.  I talk to Palestinians about their life every day.  I take buses with Palestinians.  I go to the market with Palestinians.  The power dynamic of the occupation negates the relevance of constructive criticism, as Friedman requests.

Until they put the machine guns down, the Israeli side is that of the oppressor.  Until kids can go to school without being beaten. Until shepherds can feed their sheep on the hills they’ve lived on for years.  Until my Palestinian friends can travel to the beach to enjoy a day in the sun. Until settlers stop burning olive trees and water runs freely. Until Palestinians don’t need a different colored license plate to identify that they are prohibited from using the asphalt roads that allow quick travel around the country.  Until settlements and outposts do not sit on top of the highest hills, on the middle of land that Palestinian farmers have owned for years.

[According to the Fourth Geneva Convention, the Hague Regulations, the International Court of Justice, and several United Nations resolutions, all Israeli settlements and outposts in the Occupied Palestinian Territories are illegal].

Friedman said, “I write about this now because there is something foul in the air. It is a trend, both deliberate and inadvertent, to delegitimize Israel — to turn it into a pariah state, particularly in the wake of the Gaza war.”

A pariah state.
Haaretz, Sept 25, 2007 “On the way to a pariah state

CNN, Jan 19, 2009 “Palestinians: 1,300 killed, 22,000 buildings destroyed in Gaza

I’m not in a place to respond to all of the trends Friedman mentioned, but it’s hard to call Gaza much more than a prison camp.  Singers should cancel their concerts in Israel – as they should have in South Africa during apartheid (Wall of Silence). If you just landed from Mars, who knows what you’d think, but I think you’d be struck by the huge wall separating two lands and the checkpoints and the machine guns.

In order to right the wrongs done by all the parties involved in this occupation (America, Israel, etc), we must speak out against it, rather than excuse wrongs because we are all wrong-doers.  Let us not use the violence in the world to excuse the violence Israel inflicts on common people every single minute of every single day. Let us, for once, learn from history.

I will be amazed and pleased when the world looks to the Palestinians and says, “I understand the world you’re living in.”  When that day arrives, people will have truly opened their eyes to the immensely different worlds that Israeli’s and Palestinians live in.

* * *

“If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor. If an elephant has its foot on the tail of a mouse and you say that you are neutral, the mouse will not appreciate your neutrality. ”
-Bishop Desmond Tutu

5.5 weeks and counting

A few weeks before I left for Palestine one of my professors suggested that, when I arrive, I make a point to write down anything that surprises me. These are the things, he said, that one forgets after becoming more accustomed to a new country or culture.

Nablus

SERVICE OR TAXI? EITHER WAY, A NICE CONVERSATION.
I take a “service” everywhere around town (pronounced ser-vees). They are yellow and black, with black decals separating them from the taxis that drive around town charging 5 times more for the same ride.  When I first arrived, I couldn’t tell which was a service and which was a taxi, so I just flagged down everyone and struggle in my minimal Arabic to decipher how much the ride will cost. If the driver speaks English, he will ask me questions and welcome me (Where are you from?  How long are you staying?  Do you like Nablus?).  If he doesn’t, he’ll ask me questions and welcome me in Arabic that I barely understand, making attempts to chat even when my ignorance is clear.

KINDNESS, OUT OF THE BLUE
The biggest thing I’m struck with is the sincere welcome and kindness offered to me every single day by people I’ve never before met. Yesterday, I took a taxi home from downtown and a few hours later, walked out of my apartment to head back downtown. The same taxi driver pulled over and offered me a ride back. When I gave him money for the ride, he refused.

I mailed a package today and chatted with the man at the DHL store, who lived in Texas for six years. He talked about the wonderful hospitality he experienced in Texas and how his three kids are all abroad now. He invited me to celebrate a Ramadan dinner with he and his wife sometime this coming month.

A few days ago, around lunchtime I was in Ramallah on my way to Jerusalem. I wanted to buy a banana from a vendor accustomed to selling bananas by the kilo. When I asked for one, he said, “Wahad kilo?” (“One kilo?”) and I said “La, wahad wahad,” (Bad Arabic for, “No, just one”). He just gave it to me at not charge and smiled at the idea of me buying just one banana.

When passing through the checkpoint from Ramallah to Jerusalem, Palestinians encourage me to stay on the bus and pass easily though, even though they have to exit the bus and submit to a much longer screening. When stopped by a police officer on the way from Ramallah to Nablus, I ask what he wanted and the woman next to me said, “Maybe there was a problem.” She went on to ask where I’m from and when I say America, she looked me in the eyes and said a very sincere, “Welcome to Palestine.” After checkpoints and being stopped by police, I was warmed by the sincerity and humility with which she welcomed me to her land.

I only hope that visitors to the States feel the same sort of welcome that I’ve felt here.
(Want to help welcome people visiting the US? Host travelers from www.couchsurfing.org!)

SUPER LOUD MUSIC
From late morning until after sunset, Arabic tunes and pop music thumps through the entire city, including the little suburb where I live, so loudly I sometimes can’t hear the TV in my apartment over the beat of the music. The music is turned off when the call to prayer plays over a loud speaker from the local mosque and is quickly turned back on when prayers are over.  Taking a nap to escape current heat wave is a difficult thing!

EXTRAORDINARY ARRAY OF OUTFITS
As I walk through downtown Nablus, one large circle encompassed by a movie theatre, an ice cream shop constantly packed with people, the Arab Bank and lots of other shops and falafal stands, I see women wearing an extraordinary array of outfits. From black embroidered abayas and hijabs to black leggings and high heels. At the hairdresser, I watched women get their hair washed, straightened and glued into place, only to put their hijabs right back on before they left the salon.  I felt like I knew a great secret!

THE LADIES HOOKAH LAIR
In Chicago, I got into the deliciously bad habit of smoking a hookah with apple tobacco a few times a week. I like the sound it makes and the way it smells, I like the taste of the apple tobacco, and I love the decorative bowl and tasseled hose. Here, I’m never quite sure where I can grab a hookah because the cafes are typically filled with men. As a foreign woman, I imagine I could go in for a hookah and tea and not seem any stranger than I already am. If I want to smoke with women, the only places I’ve found so far are the fairly expensive hotels in the neighborhood. I’m looking forward to finding the secret lair.

NABLUS TASTES BETTER
At home here in Nablus, a falafel sandwich costs 2 NIS (about 50 cents). When I went to Jerusalem, I paid 6 NIS for the same thing. Not only does it cost less in Nablus, but it tastes better! In Nablus, I know a great place where I can put all my favorite falafel fixin’s on myself.

RAMADAN
Ramadan began today. Yesterday, the market was packed with people buying food. The town bustled and people seemed busy. It was also a bit cooler than the past couple weeks, which only added to the fun atmosphere. Today, things seem to be moving at a more purposefully slow pace. My favorite falafel stand was closed for repairs around lunchtime, when usually it’s packed with customers elbowing their way to condiments and salad for a sandwich.
(Pakistanis set for Ramadan amid flood misery)

MALAYALAM? ITALIAN? NOPE, ARABIC.
I’m struggling with my Arabic. I ask questions and read my workbooks and listen to Omar Othman teach conversational Arabic on my computer, but still Italian and Malayalam come to my lips first. It’ll be a wonderful day when I feel comfortable chatting with a cabby.

The first few weeks

Falafel shop in Nablus

My first stop in what will hopefully be a year spent in the Middle East, is Nablus, Palestine.  I will stay here for just over two months, teaching a journalism workshop for students at An Najah University.

Falafel shop in Nablus

I live in a beautiful apartment in “majeen,” a neighborhood just outside the center of Nablus.  The complex is university housing and my apartment typically houses international visitors or An Najah professors.  Complete with hot water, cable television, a laundry machine in the kitchen and a tub in the bathroom, I am not living simply by any means!

I found my favorite falafel place – it has a salad bar where you can add your own toppings to your sandwich (pickles, cucumbers, tomatoes and lots of onions!).  Either shwarma or falafel are a once-a-day treat.  A new friend introduced me to freike, a Palestinian soup and my new comfort food.  It is wheat in broth served with a lemon for squeezing to taste.  Today I discovered Kibbeh, fried dough stuffed with meat and onions.  It might be my new favorite thing!  A midday treat is lemon juice with mint – refreshing and cooling on what have been very hot days.  Next, I have to find my favorite place for chai and a nargileh.

I arrived in Nablus on July 16 and was immediately embraced by a group of internationals and locals attending a Leadership Training Institute through the organization I’m volunteering for.  They were already a week into their 2-week delegation.  I arrived just in time to be part of designing a website with partners in a nearby village, Iraq Burin, for the village to use as a way to disseminate information, recent events and stories about their residents (It’s almost done!  Check it out at www.iraqburin.wordpress.com).  The delegation was an amazing way for me to meet locals and be immediately involved in an impactful project.

During the next two weeks, I will finalize a revised syllabus for the workshop I’ll teach, work on connecting with other organizations in the area, learn some Arabic with my new buddy Omar Othman and, hopefully, enjoy some time with new friends in town.

Iraq Burin Website Project

During the next few days I’m working with a group of internationals and Palestinians to do a few videos about Iraq Burin. Iraq Burin is a village just outside Nablus. You may have read reports about two of their children being killed by Israelis in March 2010. Since then, the villagers of Iraq Burin have held peaceful demonstrations every Saturday that typically end in violence by Israelis.

We are hoping to help them build a website and give them some tools in order to disseminate information about the demonstrations and any updates, as well as provide some background on the village.

Click here to read a horrifically revealing report by An-Najah University/UNESCO about the two kids that were killed.

Click here to watch a video produced by The Real News about the events in Iraq Burin.

Kindness of strangers

Orienting oneself to a new place often involves embarrassing mistakes, cultural ineptitude and the kindness of strangers.

Getting from downtown Nablus to my apartment requires taking either a 10 shekel taxi or a service (pronounced: ser-vees), a shuttle service that typically costs 2 shekels.

I took a taxi home from downtown after my first day out in Nablus.  It was getting dark and I didn’t know where to catch a service.  I ineptly stuttered through the name of the small convenience store near my home, a landmark I was told to use when taking taxis.  The driver, who spoke no English, indicated he understood where I wanted to go.

As we drove away in the wrong direction, I wondered where we would end up.

We eventually pulled up next to An-Najah University campus, which is where I will work, but not where I live.  I said “la” (no) and pointed in the direction of my apartment, across the valley and on the next hill under a copse of trees in the distance.  He then drove me to another place that must have been student housing associated with the university.  Again I said, “la” and pointed.  While living in India, I knew enough Malayalam to get myself places.  Here, I can’t yet complete a full sentence.

One of the An-Najah students, Muhanad, had shown me to my new apartment a few hours earlier.  He spoke beautiful English and was very kind.  He had given me his phone number and encouraged me to call whenever I needed to.  So, I called my Nablus lifeline.

“Hi Muhanad, it’s Catherine.  I am so sorry to bother you, but I don’t know how to get home!”

I handed the phone to my ever-patient taxi driver and Muhanad saved the day.  When I took the phone back from the driver, Muhanad said, “Call me when you arrive safely.”  It reminded me of what my girlfriends and I would do after a late dinner or night out in Chicago.  We’d part ways and take the CTA home, texting each other when we arrived.

The driver pulled up to the supermarket I knew was near my apartment but, even now, I wasn’t sure which way was my apartment.  He must have seen the look of confusion in my eyes, because he pointed to a driveway and nodded at me with encouragement in his eyes.  I paid him 20 shekels, not sure if it was jipping him or me (after all the driving, I’m pretty sure it was jipping him), and walked down the driveway, quickly realizing where I was.

I called Muhanad to let him know I was home and thank him for helping me.  A few minutes after tromping through the apartment, my seven roommates began to return home after their day.  Most of them are internationals who speak Arabic well if not fluently and they told me what to say to the taxi driver next time.  If it weren’t for a patient taxi driver, my emergency lifeline, Muhanad, and seven welcoming roommates, I might still be circling the city searching for my apartment!

50 Hours in Jerusalem – VIDEO

I spent the first few days of my time in the Middle East in Jerusalem, wandering the winding streets of the Old City. Here’s how I spent my time.

A shop in the Old City