Lately
I hitchhiked twice this weekend: first, less securely in the West Bank when no taxis would rescue Saadet and me from the Mount of Temptation. A day later, en route to meet Merav from Harvard at Doctor Shakshuka. Neither experience resulted in rape, scam or murder, thankfully.
When I first arrived in Israel, I hadn’t realized that I’d be living with a family of Arab university and high school students. My housemates aren’t literally related however, with the exception of actual parental supervision, every component of a family exists in our home on Saint Luke’s: from the youngest members, Mayroon and Maysan, who are actual sisters, to the father-like Wael, who is a part-time chef at a pizzeria. Sometimes, I’ll come home at nearly midnight to discover a full feast Wael has prepared: homemade falafel, salads, chips, bread, hummus, olives, and slivers of cold watermelon.
I’ve gushed about my housemates to friends at home but I can’t emphasize enough how inclusive they’ve been. I’ve been to several of their homes. Maysan and Mayroon come from the Triangle or a region of Arab villages near Tel Aviv. A few weekends ago, Saadet and I visited her family, their neighborhood, and met their aunts, closest friends, and cousins’ newly adopted puppy. We spent an afternoon at a nearby state park enjoying the Arab rendition of the popular American pastime, the barbecue.
I wish I could have preserved that Sunday at the park because it encapsulated what coexistence should be. Ten Arab and Jewish families were simultaneously enjoying their picnics. Jewish music collided with Arab dance songs, and when we first parked the car, the Jewish family that was using the picnic space we’d eventually take over called us over to save it. While this sounds like basic courtesy, compare it with the tension in a mixed city like Haifa just three months ago, when Gaza broke out. Wael, who is a true sweetheart, got into such a heated fight with his Jewish coworker that it ended with the two spitting on each other.
I’ve also visited Naif in Sha’ab, about forty minutes outside Haifa. His two sisters, father, and I drove up to the Lebanon border and we danced underneath the sign that pointed us towards Beirut. On Friday, I also visited Leila in Jaffa-Nazareth — yes, as in Jesus of.
