Well, I can't even put it in words.
Yesterday was actually my first whole day in the Holy City, but I've met so many different people, done so much, and learned even more, that I feel like it's been a week.
As you might recall, public transport is not running during Shabbat, meaning from the appearance of the first three stars on the sky on Friday until sunset on Saturday. I probably can't blame it on the Shabbat though, that I arrived at the Hebron Hostel around 11pm, but it is me to blame, for I had become to like my host Hezi's Arab way of saying: „Okay, five more minutes!“
Having arrived at the Central Bus Station I thought of taking the Lightrail for a second, but then as always decided to greet the city by walking all the way from the station to the Old City. It's a relaxed 30-minutes walk and I didn't expect to see much, because it still was the day of Shabbat after all, and I was in Jerusalem, not Tel Aviv anymore, but approaching the Mahane Yehuda Market area, I saw hundreds of hundreds of hundreds of people standing around in big groups or sitting outside in bars. From the things I overheard, I suppose it was mostly tourists, and mostly Jewish-American students. Anyway, it was amazing to see Central Jerusalem in such a bustling atmosphere and feel all the happiness around me. (I remember walking the other way round around 8pm on a Saturday in September, when the streets where almost empty - funny how much things can change in only one and a half hours.)
After meeting Mike, who has been volunteering in the hostel since last August, at the reception, I went straight to bed, but of course didn't sleep too well. I didn't tell you, because – as usual – I thought it wouldn't last too long, but I'm sick again. Surprise! The well known coughing and sniffing is back and drives me crazy, but what can I do. I think it's getting better by now, but you never know.
Despite my lack of sleep, I knew one thing for sure, namely that I had to pay my respects to the Temple Mount at the very first – and I can assure you, waking up early isn't a problem anymore when you know that you're going to see the Dome of Rocks in a couple of minutes.
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| September 2013 |
After waiting in line for the security customs (they didn't even check on my extendable camera holder, for which I was very afraid), I strolled around the site for some time, took pictures, talked to people, and enjoyed the sunlight. Out of respect, I always cover my head when entering the Temple Mount, which more than once made people think that I am muslim. Thanks to that, this time a little girl came to me and was absolutely irritated by the fact that I actually didn't speak any Arabic. After some time, her mother also came closer and showed me the girl's schoolbooks, reading the words next to the pictures aloud. I tried to say the Arabic pendants if I knew them, but I don't think I was very successful (so much for the B in my exam). As our communication was non-verbal, I obviousily can't really tell you what we talked about. But - I'm not sure if everyone can understand that – those acquiantances make my day a richer and better one.
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| September 2013 |
The good thing about getting up early and having things to explore, is that the day never seems to end.
It was only noon when I reached the end of the Muslim quarter and stepped out of the Damascus gate and entered East jerusalem. I was looking for the man from whom I had bought the most delicious lamb sandwich I ever ate (and actually the only one so far), but he wasn't there. I decided to get a falafel sandwich instead and sit on one of the small tables next to the taxis and the bus station, watching the people.
After some time, some elderly men, one of them wearing a red kuffiyeh, sat on the table next to me. As it goes, we started a conversation and the man with the kuffiyeh asked me if I wanted a cup of tea with them. Knowing that this was a very inviting and nice gesture, I of course didn't say no.
He introduced himself as Ibrahim, and told me that he was living on the Mount of Olives, like his ancestors had been for hundreds and hundreds of years. He also told me that he didn't have a passport (making him a so called „stateless person“, which isn't common, but known in the region) but still had travelled all over the world, having visited the United States over 40 times. „And everything“, he said, „for free“.
I could hardly believe that, and nor the confirmation of the man sitting next to us, nor the countless people who passed us and came to greet Ibrahim could really convince me that I had run into a celebrity, locally and globally known as „the Peacemaker“ by accident. So I just continued to enjoy the lovely tea and the amazing sunlight and the fact that I was finally in Jerusalem again.
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| the lamb sandwich I had been looking for |
That didn't last long, because some guys with big cameras appeared and started preparing for a shoot, just in front of our field of vision. Of course one of them knew Ibrahim as well, and he explained that they were shooting a new video for the Palestianian Youth Talent Football team. And what would young football players be without their fans! So we arranged our chairs just to face the cameras, and whenever one of the boy made a trick in front of us, we were supposed to get up from our chairs and clap in excitement. While Ibrahim and the other man were absolutely into their roles, I kind of couldn't help myself laughing about the funny situation of a blonde German girl sitting next to two men in traditional clothing in East Jerusalem, all of them enthusiastically clapping for the Palestinian Youth Talent Football team.
So, this is how I got into Palestinian television! By drinking tea with strangers!
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| Nablus, 2013 |
After all the fuss was over, Ibrahim kept talking about all the journeys he had made, which I still couldn't fully believe. But then a Japanese backpacker passed by, looking kind of lost. Ibrahim shouted: „Hello! Can I help you?“ The guy looked at us for a moment and was very confused. Then his mouth dropped open and he stared at Ibrahim and said: „I'm looking for your house!“
He came to sit with us and told me that Ibrahim indeed was a „Peacemaker“. Just like is father, his grandfather, his great-grandfather and so on before, he is welcoming travelers from all over the world to his house. No matter which religion, ethnical background, colour or gender, everyone is invited to stay in his home for free and gets all the food he or she needs. Apart from that, he is one of the founders of an organization called „The Peacemakers“, bringing people together and encouraging conversations and discussions, especially between Jews and Muslims, Israelis and Palestinians.
Read more here: Peace for Ibrahim, The Jerusalem Peacemakers
The tea was long finished when everyone decided it was time to go, and Ibrahim invited me to come with him and the Japanese to his home straight away. I hadn't met my future boss yet, though, and had no idea when or where or what I should work for the night I had already stayed for free, so I had to return to the hostel.
Back here, I met Ash, the manager of Hebron Hostel, and son of it's owner. He is an amazing guy at the end of his thirties, with a calm voice, a warm gaze, and a funny British accent when he speaks about religion. Because I'm only here for some weeks, it doesn't make sense to train me at the reception, so I told that I can either paint (another volunteer is designing artwork on the naked walls of this 700 years old building) or cook or clean. The deal is 4 hours for accommodation and 8 hours for the food on top, so I went for accommodation only for the beginning. (I guess I'm just really not a working person, lol.) I agreed on helping him clean the whole kitchen after the Tea Room downstairs closed, so I had another 3 hours to spend until 7pm.
I decided to visit Ibrahim on the Mount of Olives, as I had been thinking of going there anyway. Again and again I wonder how those regular oversized busses with 60 seats make it up that steep hill, even STOPPING in the middle of the road for random people wanting to board the bus, but somehow they do. With his “business” card I soon found Ibrahims house, and after climbing a hundred self-made stairs, I admired the view from the rooftop with him for a long time. The sun was already beginning to set and gave everything a warm orange glow, from the houses nearby, up to the valley of the Dead Sea and the Jordanian mountains you could see in the distance.
Downstairs, Ibrahim told me the story of every single picture and newspaper article he had on his wall, and there were plenty of them, while I was obligated to drink another tea with him and try his noodles and sweet potatoes, which were of course delicious. Sadly, he also had to tell me that he had big problems keeping up his project, because he had to pay a high fine to the government for building another story onto the house (building without permit is very common in the Palestinian territories, and it seems top be a mix of luck, money and relations if you get away with it or not), and because the people staying in the house were hardly donating enough money to cover the cost for the food they ate. Indeed it startled me that I was the only person actually sitting in the living room and talking to Ibrahim, who had endless interesting stories to tell, while everyone else was in their rooms (some even have a room for themselves, with a key and everything, imagine that for a second!) or in front of some electronic device.
When it was time to leave, I left money in the donation's box. Most of you know that I'm a fucking nickle nurser and give extra money on hardly anything. Especially with donating I always feel stupid because I don't exactly know what happens with my money, but this time it was different. I absolutely got to know the person behind the project and think that everyone should meet Ibrahim and hear the story about how he came to the US with 13 Dollars and without passport, telling the customs that he doesn't have any money and also no idea where he would stay, but that a governmental limousine must be waiting for him outside.
Entering the Old City through the Damascus gate, I bought some leftover vegetables for my breakfast the next day. I think I got about 5 middle-sized tomatoes, 4 paprikas and a lemon for 5 Shekels. (With the recent exchange rates that equals about 1,20€, in September it would've been 1€.)
But the day wasn't over yet, there was something to do, right? Right, the Tea Room :)
So at 7pm, there were still some people in the restaurant and I even was allowed to prepare a salad, yay! Afterwards, me and Ash simply cleaned all the dishes, surfaces, cooking facilities and so on, chatting about this and that during the tea breaks or when someone dropped by to say Hi (just in case you didn't figure it out by yourself: a lot of people drop by here :D).
Talking with Ash (who is a muslim and descends from an old family originated in Hebron/al-Khalil which came to Jerusalem with his grandfather) made me realize how many words of daily use I already have in my mind from my days with Hezi. Even if I don't want to, I respond with “ken” instead of “ta'am”, and “lo” instead of “la”, I ask “Ma zeh?” instead of “Ma huwa aliyhu?” and respond with “toda!” instead of “shukran!”. But I learned a lot of Arabic words yesterday, and I think I have just the right amount of basic knowledge of really making progress in both languages.
After we finished cleaning the kitchen, Ash introduced me to another nephew of his (I met about 5 other nephews before), Khaled, who cleaned the floor with me. It wasn't that much of an effort actually, but we we're fooling around with the brooms and mops all the time so we didn't finish until 11. Then we grabbed another cup of tea and sat on the rooftop, where Khaled told me that he stopped going to school when he was 14, so that he could help his father in their three shops, just as his older brother did. He also told me about his struggles with religion (he doesn't find time/forgets to pray and feels bad about it), and what he doesn't like about Arab girls – but I can't go into any more detail here, because I promised him not to tell anyone :D
There's so much more I learned that day until I finally closed my eyes at about 2am. It's those little things you observe and can't put into words that make your knowledge about a foreign culture. And this, my dear friends, is why I love Jerusalem.
Now I've spent around 4 hours to write this article and hope I could satisfy you even without any pictures. As you can imagine, I'm not too fond of the idea of spending my precious time like this any time soon again, so please be patient. About the photos, yeah... it kinda pisses me off myself, but obviously I'm too lazy to find a solution. Insha'allah, we'll see ;)
