Yesh kasheh rak b'lechem, v'gam anachnu ochlim oto. Israelis have a saying that doesn't quite translate into English how I might like it to, but I will try my best to explain it as eloquently as Gilad explained it weeks ago to me. Literally translated this means: the bread also has crust, but this, too, we eat. The play on words is that the word kasheh means both "crust" and "hard/difficult"... so in essence it is saying that life surely presents difficulties, but we overcome them and move forward. Does that make sense? Anyhow, the past few months have definitely presented me many obstacles small and large, and working to overcome them has been an extremely rewarding experience. I quite like the saying and think about it on a daily basis.
Living in Beer Sheva is a challenge on its own. Before the temperatures started cooling down for fall, the days were hot. The streets were hot, our classrooms were hot, and our apartments trapped in nice hot desert air. Nonetheless, we all trekked out to HaBig (the Big outdoor mall with an Ace Hardware) to buy fans creating the most efficient cooling systems I have seen since freshmen year in the dorms. We also live in the mercaz klitah, an absorption center, with families who mostly speak neither English or Hebrew, which leaves us minimal manner by which to communicate. Their children, however, have found their own ways to communicate; some of our young little boy neighbors like to knock on our door meticulously aiming their fake machine guns at the entrance while waiting for us to answer. A bit shocking, but amusing at the same time. These are the populations many people on Otzma are helping. A further challenge is that living in Beer Sheva has taken away a bit of my independence. Besides the fact that I don't have my own car to get around, before students came our social circles were limited pretty much to each other. Fortunately the folks I am surrounded by are good people. Fortunately I am comfortably independent traveling, and know a few folks here and there to branch outside of the American bubble we have created. That said, life here is good. And relative to others in our neighborhood, life is really good.
The people in Beer Sheva are helpful and friendly. I love the desert, and especially the Negev. University students moved back to town so the social scene has picked up. We have a fantastic shwarma stand 50 meters from our "apartment complex." The bus station here runs buses to Tel Aviv all day on the half hour. The shuk (market) in town has magnificent fruits that I have never seen anywhere before, and most importantly I love love love my volunteer work.
I'm working hard to learn this complicated language. (Whining about this difficulty is why I learned the bread/crust phrase.) I spend my days in Hebrew class, at the coffee shop studying more Hebrew, and volunteering around town. I'm volunteering with medical students on an AIDS task force type program promoting safe sex and STD testing on Ben Gurion University's Campus. We receive a wide array of reactions from students; anywhere from appreciation for information and concern, to frightened or appalled reactions.
On Mondays nights I volunteer the night shift on an ambulance which ends just in time for class at 8:15am. Some nights are more quiet than others, and at the beginning of each shift I have conflicted emotions... while I want to see cool things, I clearly feel guilty hoping for injuries and sickness. Unfortunately Becca and I experienced our first death on a shift, but fortunately it was an older man who's house was covered with picture and letters from children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren living all over the world. It seems that he lived a fulfilling life and by grace the family on the scene didn't seemed caught entirely off guard. Nevertheless, seeing his wife and life partner who seems to have made Aliyah from either France or Morocco, left behind in the home they created together was heart wrenching. Enough of this topic... Tonight, I am writing at 7:30 am because I'm stalling until class begins, we picked up an 18 year old girl suffering from what seemed to be an epileptic seizure. It was a bit unsettling to pull this girl out of a crown of 15 or so friends who had clearly been drinking at 4am while she convulsed incessantly the entire ride to the hospital. I think Hadass will be all right.
Possibly the activity I look forward to the most is the time I spend with high school students twice a week preparing for the military. I love love love working with these high-schoolers. It is one of the coolest and most meaningful experiences I have had in Israel. Ever. These "kids" are seemingly so excited about everything- even joining the army. They are so excited to meet Americans and ask questions, and so eager to help us. Twice a week I participate in basic training type workouts with them. I clearly have no idea what is going on while the commanders (young guys who have finished serving their obligatory time in the military) scream orders at us in Hebrew, but the way that the students translate and coach me the best they can warms my heart. The teamwork that they exemplify is like nothing I've ever seen in the states. For example, if we are running long sprints and somebody is struggling on the return, someone else will voluntarily run beside the struggling runner- literally holding his/her hand the entire way back. Or if we are running drills up flights of stairs repetitively and some one's legs tire, the stronger participants will run the stairs behind the weaker literally supporting them flight after flight. I don't know how to paint this picture, but it is beautiful.
More than I expected, I stick out everywhere I go no despite my greatest efforts to appear "Israeli". This, in itself, is quite ironic because this country is an immigrant nation. There is no "Israeli" look because everyone is either from Morocco, Poland, Iran, South America etc... yet somehow I am just blatantly American. When I walk through the paths at the market men will just yell from meters away, "America, hey America, come here!" What the? Although quite annoying and embarrassing at time, the attention frequently gives me a good laugh.
I went to the Mosh Ben-Ari concert in Tel Aviv, coordinate an Otzma field trip to Hot Springs nearby, danced the night away in discos around Israel, and ate sub-par sushi at an eclectic dinner joint in town. Yes, I really do miss accessibility to excellent sushi. Along with Chloe, trees changing, and being able to jump home for a weekend with the family. I love, however, seeing new places as often as possible and meeting new folks along the way. Two weeks ago I went with friends further south to Sde Boker, an old Kibbutz and area in the desert with beautiful terrain and Ben Gurion's grave. We enjoyed Shabat in a guest house and hiked in the morning to Ain Avdat- a pool from a natural spring in the middle of the Negev. After hiking for hours in the desert sun, we jumped into water so cold I felt pins and needles for a good while after emerging from my dunk (yes, there was a lifeguard). As we hiked we were surrounded by rocky mountainous landforms of white chalky talc dirt that won't let you forget where you are. Again, I love the Negev.
Recently Otzma went on field trip to Jerusalem to visit places we are not allowed to visit on our own- for safety reasons of course. The goal was to explore spirituality and the connectivity to Jerusalem that the three major monotheistic religions implore by visiting the Kotel (the western wall), The Church of the Holy Sepulchre (where Jesus was allegedly crucified), the Dome of the Rock (where Allah traveled to from Mecca on a magic carpet ride), and Mount of Olives (where some wait for the Messiah to return). The field trip was a remarkable experience and I enjoyed taking some interesting photographs while fiddling with new settings I found on my camera. Some adorable Arab children playing soccer in front of lovely arches near the dome were quite flirty with the camera and brought more and more of their little friends over for a photo shoot. We could exchange few words, but they were humored by seeing images of themselves on a wee little screen. A few hours later, while driving through East Jerusalem, little kids played on the street in front of their apartments set in front of majestic desert hills. As I was carried away by the scenery, I somehow missed seeing an eight year old boy holding a ball in one hand pick up a rock nearly six inches in diameter with the other. I also failed to see him winding his arm in preparation to launch said rock at our bus. I did, however, see the rock flying towards the window directly towards my face and hear the horrendous crashing sound it made as it hit the ever-so-resistant glass that I am so grateful our bus had. Although this is what I see on the news on a regular basis, I overall feel so safe here that I didn't think about the possibility.
Honestly I was quite shaken up, but spent the ensuing time thinking about what happened and why. I have so many questions about this child's actions and the ramifications for which he probably has no idea follow such actions. Was he imitating what he sees on television? Was the incident not related to news at all, but merely a child goofing around? Was it intentionally at an American bus? Did his parents teach him to do this? Why was he on the streets alone at night, anyway? How much of this conflict is fueled and exacerbated by children's actions? Anyhow, we left the area, in tact, a different route than we entered and so ended our organized field trip. A few of us stumbled to a "Grill" restaurant where a Hadassah group from Detroit also decided to eat its first meal on its journey. Of course some of them knew some of our friends on Otzma, and as a hired singer sang old Israeli folk songs and melodies, Kassandra and I joined them for an awkward Israeli dance session in the middle of the restaurant including the Horah and Mayim-Mayim. It was difficult to make a clean escape to our table, but another memory nonetheless.
And off I go to class... Pictures to come soon. I hope.
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