First Thoughts on Haifa...

I feel a bit uprooted since arriving in Haifa. I guess, despite the fact that most people choke thinking about the idea of living in Beer Sheva, I made this city in the middle of the desert my home. I took advantage of the fact that I knew the names of the cashiers at the supermarket, I recognized the people walking their dogs in our neighborhood, and bumped into the same faces time and again while exploring the university area’s nightlife.

From my understanding the numbers in Haifa and Beer Sheva are close- both around 200,000 people- but Haifa feels much bigger, much more spread out, and much more intimidating to conquer and learn. Not to mention much more intriguing in itself. After all, Haifa has mountains and the sea, the shrine of the Bahai religion, Christians/Moslem Arabs/Jews living intertwined with another, culture, and restaurants devoted solely to the art of sushi. A US Navy ship even greeted us kindly in Haifa's harbor upon our arrival (pictured above). Our "three bedroom flat" they gave us is remarkably better than the decrepit rooms we expected. I might have even used the word "amazing" to describe it to my friends living in other cities. I might have been grossly over-exagerating by using the word "amazing" but it's all relative. Besides, it's a short walk from the bottom of the Bahai Gardens (pictured below) and location is everything, right? I clearly look forward to all of the opportunities Haifa holds before me.

I spent my first day volunteering at the Meyer Children’s Hospital (part of Ram Bam Hospital) of Haifa. Spending a few hours in the oncology department sent me on a rollercoaster of emotions and exposed me to conversations I can’t imagine being accessible under any other circumstances. The oncology department has two floors due to construction. The two floors, one for outpatient treatment and one for overnight patients, have their own area designated for teaching space, games and arts and crafts. Obviously I endured conflicting emotions processing sadness and pain being with children fighting sickness and the pleasure I received from making these same children laugh or helping them complete an art project.

Day one: I volunteered on the outpatient floor where I did not interact with a single Jewish child. Not by choice, but because every single child who came into the classroom happened to be an Arab child from a Palestinian territory somewhere- be it Janine, Ramala or Gaza. Perhaps this was just by chance, but the point that I’m trying to make is that a huge percentage of the patients in this department are non-Israeli Arabs and I was shocked to see Israeli hospitals treating non-Jews who live in the territories in such big numbers. Is this because of the picture painted by media or because I misunderstood the facts?

Sadness and happiness were compounded with frustration and confusion because again I experienced a language blockade. Yes, that is beyond a language barrier. At this point I have a grasp on basic conversational Hebrew… but in this instance both English and Hebrew got me nowhere; these children spoke only Arabic. Luckily children have a universal language of smiles and gestures, and in case you didn’t know: holding out a coloring book and markers means, “Want to color?” in all languages. After spending a chunk of time with little ones, I acknowledged the “too-cool” teenager sitting on the computer who pretended like he didn’t care whether or not he had anything to do with us. However, the look on his face when I first spoke to him had “I want affection, too,” written all over his face... As did how quickly he turned his chair around and neglected the computer for the remainder of the day- except for when he decided to show me Arabic music videos online. Saala and I spoke a sticky concoction of Hebrew, English, and hand gestures. In case you are wondering: Manga means mango in Arabic.

Towards the end of the day (yes, still the first day) a well dressed guy around my age escorted his five year old brother into the classroom. After an attempt to speak with him in Hebrew, he asked me in good English to speak with him in English because this is what he studies at university. If I could think of onomatopoeia for confusion or put an icon for the reader to click on that makes the sound of extreme perplexity… that would be placed precisely here. Somehow within only a few minutes our conversation went from light and friendly to borderline uncomfortable questioning, and I mean me asking questions about his circumstances.

What is it like for you to travel from the Palestinian territories into Israeli borders? Do you have to obtain permission to travel to Israeli hospitals? What is life like where you live? He explained to me that only he and his mother are allowed to accompany his little brother for treatment, and they must reapply for permission periodically. I asked him if once in Haifa he is allowed to go to restaurants or shops nearby the hospital, and he explained to me that he is, but he has no desire. What frustrates him the most is that he cannot travel from Janine to Ramallah or Jericho, or any other Palestinian city without interrogation. We spoke about his studies, his desire to study in the states, and the privileges that come with living in a safer more well-to-do territory, and then we were interrupted by a call for treatment. I hope to see him again.

I also worked side-by-side with Fadia, another volunteer who is a Lebanese Christian girl living in Israel. She studied for one year in the USA and one year in Canada visiting family members. Fadia told me bits and pieces of life and oppression in Lebanon towards the Christians who live in southern Lebanon and Israel’s role in protecting them. She explained to me that the Christian Lebanese love Israel for helping them and the dynamic between Israelis and Christian Lebanese living here in Israel; in a weird way Israelis must be good to them because they collaborated with Israel during the war. Her family cannot speak directly to the family still living in Lebanon because the government will find out and make life difficult. Instead, they hold three way conversations via Canada in order to speak with one another.

I closed the day by going with people on my program (Otzmaniks) to an event hosted by university students in Haifa. They created a program called Student Village which entails students living in a poor neighborhood and immersing themselves in the community in exchange for a small scholarship. One part of the commitment is a weekly gathering either for discussion or activity. We attended a drum circle where first we learned to play and then we listened to the instructors’ music. I think Haifa will provide plenty more interesting experiences down the road…