Back to Blogging - Petra

First off, I want to apologize for my extended absence from blogging. Things have been quite busy for the last few weeks, with my mom and my brother’s visit, an aunt visiting from Montreal, and spending some time with Amy’s family who were also here for her cousin’s wedding. Throw in a dash of interesting developments at Seeds of Peace and you have a recipe for blog-silence. I am sorry. I had no idea that there were so many people who looked forward to reading these entries, and I appreciate the encouragement that I have received to keep this going.

There is just too much to catch up on now, so I’ll just write about the highlight of the last few weeks for me – Petra. Amy’s parents graciously invited me to join them on a trip to Petra last week. Though you may not know what Petra is, if you have seen Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, you have seen this archeological marvel, which is featured prominently in the closing scenes. The ancient Nabataean city of Petra is over 2000 years old, located in what is now southern Jordan, with over 700 incredible tombs carved into its sandstone cliff faces.

I set out to meet Bernie and Karen (Amy’s parents), and Jodi and Michael (Amy’s sister and new fiancé – they got engaged here in Israel) in Eilat. Since I didn’t feel like spending 5 to 6 hours on a sweaty bus through the Negev desert, I decided to fly down. My ulterior motive was the desire to do some airline-industry reconnaissance on Israel’s two domestic airlines, Israir and Arkia.

On my flight, I was treated to an incredible view of the Temple Mount and the Old City of Jerusalem. It’s amazing how small it looks from 15,000 feet. It really demonstrated to me how difficult the issue of Jerusalem is. Three world religions all collide in an area barely 1 km squared. Here you can see the Dome of the Rock from the North-East.














I arrived in Eilat Wednesday evening, and we made our way into Jordan on Thursday Morning. The Wadi Arava border crossing into Jordan is 5 minutes from the beachfront strip of hotels in Eilat. No cars are permitted through the crossing, so visitors have to walk about 100 meters through “no man’s land” between the two sides. Here we are making our way to the Jordanian side of the crossing.

Before this crossing was opened (after the signing of the peace treaty in 1994), the area on either side of this walkway was a minefield, with snipers on either side.

After crossing over to the Jordanian side, we went through the process of obtaining our visas and having our passports stamped. This seemingly simple procedure took 45 minutes and three different stations. Finally, we made it through, and joined our driver/guide, Ali, for the 90 minute drive to Petra.

On the way we had a rest stop at a local souvenir shop, where I tried on a keffiyeh, an Arab headdress. There are three main styles of keffiyehs in Jordan: the plain white ones typically worn by Bedouins (and Lawrence of Arabia), the black checkered style popularized by Yassir Arafat that is representative of Palestinians (who make up over 50% of the population of Jordan), and the red checkered style that is typically worn by native Jordanians. Here I am trying on a keffiyeh with Amy’s sister Jodi.














We finally made it to Petra, passing through Wadi Mousa (Valley of Moses), a town that derives its drinking water from a spring purportedly created when Moses hit a rock with his staff (disobeying God, who told him to talk to the rock, as the story goes). The nearby hills are also said to contain the tomb of Aaron – Moses’ brother and high-priest of the Israelites.

Petra is incredible. As we walked through the natural gorge that was the main entrance to the city, we could see dozens of niches carved into the stone, where idols once stood. Along the walls, a carved trough would have carried water into the town. After a little more than a kilometer of walking, I caught a glimpse of the jewel of Petra through the crack of the gorge.

The Treasury is the best preserved ruin at Petra. It was actually a tomb for some members of the Nabataean royal family. It was given the name “The Treasury” because locals believed that this structure had had been built by an Egyptian Pharaoh in order to hide his treasure. It was this belief that partly led to Petra being lost to the Western world, as locals believed it was sacred and wished to protect the treasures from foreign hands. When the Swiss explorer, Johann Ludwig Burkhardt came to Petra disguised as a Muslim going on a pilgrimage to Mecca in 1812, he was the first European to visit the site in over 400 years.

We continued our tour though the ruins and had lunch at a rest stop located at the end of the gorge. After lunch, the hike back through the gorge was daunting, so we opted instead to ride donkeys up the hill to a neighbouring town, where Ali picked us up. I had never ridden a donkey before, and I was a little nervous, but I was able to snap one picture:














On the way back into Israel, we passed through a building called the Yitzhak Rabin Border Crossing (named after the Israeli Prime Minister who signed the Peace agreement with Jordan in 1994 and the Oslo Accords in 1993). In it were dozens of pictures of Yitzhak Rabin throughout his life – as a soldier in Israel’s wars, and as one of the country’s greatest statesmen. There was one picture that I especially liked:

Here, the late Jordanian King Hussein lights a cigarette for Rabin, who was assassinated in 1995. I couldn’t help savoring the thought of these two peacemakers enjoying a light moment after signing their historic treaty. I only hope that someday everyone in the region will share in the vision of peace that these two men sought to create.

Overall, it was an incredible experience and I particularly want to thank Karen and Bernie for inviting me to join them.

Until next time,
Seth

Special Guest Blog - Seeds Cafe

Hello All, Tonight we have a very special guest entry. As I mentioned before, my mother and brother are visiting me here in Jerusalem. Yesterday evening, we had an event at the center, and I invited my mom to share her thoughts with all of you. Here they are:


On Sunday evening we all went to the Seeds of Peace building to one of their monthly Sunday programs, called Seeds Café. That night they had an exhibit from Israeli artist Azriel Cohen (originally from Toronto, Canada). He painted some paintings of cafés in and around East and West Jerusalem - Israeli and Arab cafés. As part of the program each café that was painted sent food and representatives and talked to us a little about their establishments. Particularly interesting were the people who showed up for this event. I would say more than ½ were extremely interesting Arabs from different parts of Jerusalem. It was very interesting to watch the friendly and comfortable way everyone felt together. It did not feel like we were in Israel at all. This event could have taken place in any city in North America. Everyone was relaxed and joking and I felt a real feeling of warmth. The thought of joining art and different backgrounds together was great. I think everyone came away with a happy heart and stomach. The evening was a success. I spoke to many people there and found them to be bright and interesting. The artist’s painting reflected each café and you really felt the essence of each establishment. Some of the owners had funny little stories about their cafés and the people who frequent them. All in all, people had fun and communicated, and that’s what it’s all about, communication. We all took a little time and met someone we would never have before and enjoyed the evening. Thank you Seeds of Peace and Azriel Cohen!

- Cheryl Ross


Here are some pictures from the event:


Here is Azriel Cohen, addressing the group at the Seeds of Peace Center. Cohen painted all of these works and interviewed all of the cafe owners during the Al-Aqsa Intifada, a time when coffee shops were sometimes targeted by terrorist attacks. During this difficult time, people on both sides of the conflict still sought the refuge of a good cup of coffee.




Here is my brother, Zach, posing under a painting of the cafe at the Ambassador Hotel with an authentic Nargila (a water-pipe for smoking flavored tobacco - not for illicit drugs, as my mother thought). The Ambassador Hotel provided a delicious spread of smoked salmon, salads and pastries. Yum.

My mom and brother are leaving tomorrow night. This visit went by very fast, and I'm sorry to see it end. My mom says that this has been the most time we've spent together in years.

Cheers,
Seth

Independence Day

Happy Birthday Israel. On Tuesday night and Wednesday of this week was Israeli Independence Day, or Yom Ha’atzmaut. It’s a day that is celebrated in most of Israel with a wild night of partying in the streets, copious amounts of alcohol and people running through the streets spraying each other with silly string. For many Palestinians, it is a day of mourning for what they call Nakba, or “the disaster”, which they say resulted in the exile of thousands of Palestinians.

My mother and brother are visiting me here in Israel for ten days, and we were all invited to join my aunt, uncle and five of their seven kids on a trip to Ashkelon, where the eldest daughter of the family, Neherah, lives with her husband, Guy, and their adorable 8-month old son. Neherah and Guy are settlers who were evacuated from their home in August 2005, along with roughly 8,000 others, when the Israeli government decided to dismantle the Gush Katif settlements in the Gaza Strip. Neherah was 8 months pregnant at the time, and the experience was a very emotional one. Since the evacuation, Neherah and her family have been relocated to Ashkelon, a growing Israeli city on the Mediterranean coast, about 8 km north of the Gaza Strip. All of the families of Kfar Darom (the settlement that Neherah and Guy lived in) were placed in the same apartment building in Ashkelon, keeping the close-knit community relatively intact. With the memories of the state forcefully removing them from their homes still fresh in their minds, this Independence Day was a complicated one for this community.

We arrived in Ashkelon in a mini-bus and went up to the spacious apartment that Neherah and Guy are living in now. As the whole family was catching up and playing with Nehera’s son, I told her that her apartment was beautiful and I asked her how she liked it in Ashkelon. Her answer was short and simple. “This is not my home. I would rather be in Kfar Darom.”

At around 7:00pm, we all went down to the parking lot, where the building’s residents had put together their own Independence Day ceremony. At one end of the parking lot, the residents had set up a podium and two flag poles (one with the Israeli flag, and one with the flag of Kfar Darom). At the beginning of the ceremony, the Kfar Darom flag was raised, and the Israeli flag was left down. This represented the feeling of these people that the state had turned against them. After one community leader’s speech, in which he urged his listeners to maintain hope, to be thankful for the state of Israel (despite its imperfections) and to remember that we are on the path to the coming of the Messiah, he signaled, and the Israeli flag was finally raised as well.

After the outdoor ceremony, I joined the men as they went down to the basement of the building, which had been converted into a synagogue. We then had a special evening prayer service for Independence Day. As I was leaving the synagogue, one of my cousins pointed out a plaque next to the door of the synagogue that had a set of keys attached to it. Under the keys was inscribed, “One day, we shall return.” The parallelism struck me – there are thousands of Palestinians who wear old keys around their necks, dreaming of returning to homes that were left behind (abandoned or confiscated – depending on whom you ask) when Israel was declared a state in 1948.

After dinner, we stepped out onto the balcony to enjoy the spectacular fireworks presentation. The kids loved it, but I could see that Neherah was visibly shaken. When I asked her why, she said that the fireworks made the same sound as the Qassam rockets that used to rain onto Gush Katif. Guy told me that there were over 6000 Qassam rockets fired onto the settlement bloc of Gush Katif, and that it was a miracle there weren’t more casualties from them. Even in Ashkelon, the occasional Qassam rocket reaches the outskirts of the city, fired from the northern edge of the Gaza Strip.

As we piled into the van and headed back to Jerusalem, I couldn’t help thinking about a conversation I had last week with soldier on a day off whom I had met in a bar. Yishai, a medic who works around Gaza, and was stationed in Gaza before, during, and after the disengagement, gave me an interesting perspective. He told me that he felt that the disengagement was “the smartest thing the government could have done.” He felt that the costs incurred to protect these 8,000 settlers in a territory of half a million Palestinians were simply too high to justify, both in economic terms and in human lives. I told him the story of Yusuf, a former Seed of Peace from Gaza, who was accidentally shot in the back when the IDF occupied his family home. Yishai got very serious, took a quiet sip from his beer and he told me that he had heard of other stories like this one. He also said that Gaza was a “terrible place” and that most soldiers were just doing the best they could. With that, he looked me in the eye, raised his glass and said, “Enough politics, tell me about Canada!”

This was an Independence Day I won’t soon forget.

Yom Hashoah

On Tuesday of this week was Yom Hashoah – the national day of remembrance for the Holocaust. To commemorate the day, Israelis observe 2 minutes of silence and many remembrance ceremonies are held. I was invited to attend a Yom Hashoah ceremony where a friend of my family here, a remarkable woman named Ruth Brant, delivered a talk on her experiences as a survivor of Auschwitz (the Nazi death camp where between 1.1 and 1.7 million people were killed – mostly Jews, but also homosexuals, Poles, Roma, and Soviet prisoners). I feel it important to share some of her experiences with you all now.

Ruth grew up in a small village an area that was traded between Romania and Hungary for most of its history. As Ruth described it, by the time the Nazis arrived in the area of Eastern Hungary (as it was then), the Nazi extermination of the Jews was running like a well-oiled machine. Ruth described how first all the Jewish men, and then all the women and children were rounded up in the town square and then loaded onto the cattle cars that would take most of them to their deaths. Ruth explained how there were hundreds of people crammed into each car, so that there wasn’t room to even sit down. There was no toilet – they were given a bucket to relieve themselves in. Many people didn’t make it through the journey.

Then they arrived in Auschwitz. The people were unloaded form the trains, and stripped of all their belongings. They were forced to file past Dr. Mengele, who separated those who he thought seemed fit to work and those who would go to the gas chambers. This was the last time Ruth Brant saw her family. Ruth, then a healthy 16-year-old girl was spared. Her family was not.

As Ruth told the crowd about her experiences in the camp (the cramped living conditions, the starvation, the dehumanization) no one dared make a sound. I was struck by the power of her attitude. Throughout all her ordeals, she never lost the will to live. She explains that she made a pact with God that if he let her live, she would promise to tell the story of what had occurred in the camp. She told the story of how, after her arm was tattooed by the Nazi soldiers, she looked at her number and had hope when she saw that it ended with the number 18. This number has significance in Judaism, because in Hebrew, the number 18 is represented by the two Hebrew letters that spell “chai” – life.

After liberation by the allies in early 1945, Ruth went to live in the US and eventually moved to Israel after the 6-Day war in 1967. Ruth now often speaks to groups at Yad Vashem (Israel’s Holocaust museum) and is a frequent speaker at schools and remembrance ceremonies. Ruth has visited the site of Aucschwitz-Birkenau 12 times now, but she mentioned that the most special return to Auschwitz was her 10th visit back, which she made accompanied by 200 officers in the Israeli Air Force. To her, it was the ultimate response to the Nazi atrocities- to return to the site of her people’s suffering surrounded by the strength of the Israeli military.

Anyone who doubts the importance of the state of Israel to the survivors of the Holocaust should spend a minute with Ruth Brant.

During this time of remembrance, I think it’s important to think about the lessons of the Holocaust. One of them is the obligation of the world to stop genocide wherever it occurs. The world has shown that it has not learned from history. In 1994, an estimated 1 million Tutsis and moderate Hutus were killed in Rwanda during a period of 100 days. Today, the conflict in the Darfur region of Sudan continues as the UN and world governments debate over how to get involved. I wonder: if Sudan were a major oil producer, would the conflict have gone on this long?

Visiting Ramallah

For most Jewish tourists, I did the unthinkable. I went to Ramallah this week.

I had been hoping to go for some time now, to see what it was like, and I finally had the opportunity. Eric brought me with him on Wednesday afternoon to help him negotiate a deal with a print-shop in Ramallah for the publication of the Seeds of Peace magazine (The Olive Branch).

As we drove through the city, we passed by the very impressive Chinese “embassy” (not a consulate) to Palestine. I’m not sure what kind of diplomatic relations led to the embassy being created before a Palestinian state, but I’m no expert on these things.














We then went to the meeting with the printer. Expecting to enter a cramped print shop, and haggle with an ink-smudged old man, I was surprised as we were led into the spacious and modern offices of a completely integrated advertising, design and printing firm. We were greeted by a young sales rep dressed in a sharp grey suit, who ushered us into a meeting room and offered us tea and coffee. As he brought in the drinks, he joked with a wry grin, “I would bring you vodka, but since the elections …” making reference to the Islamic fundamentalist Hamas victory in the January elections. It was a good ice-breaker. The negotiations went smoothly, and I was struck by how similar the negotiations were to ones that I participated in with Mercer. In fact, this was the least contentious of any negotiation I had been in. Ultimately, it looks like we will save Seeds of Peace about 40% off their printing costs (special thanks to Tim Hoyland for teaching me everything I know about negotiations).

This experience really brought home to me Thomas Freidman’s point when he wrote about two kinds of countries, those that “were intent on building a better Lexus, while others were […] intent on renewing ethnic and tribal feuds over who owned which olive trees.” (From Beirut to Jerusalem) This Palestinian company was focused on developing and promoting the capabilities of the Palestinian economy, not perpetuating the conflict in the region. If this attitude of taking advantage of the benefits that come with peace, economic development and access to world markets gains more adherents here, I believe there is reason for optimism in the region.

After a delicious lunch of shawarma (sans pita for me, as it was still Passover), Eric took me around for some sight-seeing. We went to the Muqata’a, the Palestinian presidential compound in Ramallah, where Arafat was put under “house arrest” by the IDF in 2002.

Here's the entrance to the compound.
The building is a remnant of the British Mandate. Several Muqata’as were built in the 20’s to house the British administrative apparatus, from bureaucrats to prisons. After the Oslo accords, this Muqata’a became one of the headquarters of the PA.

Here’s a look at the building from inside the front gates.



On November 12, 2004, Yasser Arafat was buried inside the gates of the compound. Arafat’s tomb is at the center of a partly-constructed mausoleum, and is guarded by four Palestinian soldiers who proudly walked me around the compound and explained the plans for the monument, prayer hall and memorial museum to be built on this site. The soldier was also quick to point out that this is a temporary tomb – the plan is that Arafat will be buried in the Al-Aqsa Mosque on the Temple Mount when Palestine makes its capital in Jerusalem.

Here is Arafat's mausoleum.

Arafat’s tomb, in the midst of construction










Also inside the compound were the barracks for Mahmoud Abbas’ Presidential Guard, seen here.















As we drove through the streets of Ramallah to head back to Jerusalem, we passed several streets lined with green Hamas flags. Apparently, these had been put up in the celebrations after the elections. Eric joked that Hamas blew its budget on flags.


Overall, I never felt that I was in danger in Ramallah, despite my family’s concern when I told them I was going to the city. I was actually quite impressed by the number of modern offices, apartment buildings and businesses I saw. I saw a city struggling to realize its economic potential. Granted, if I had visited the refugee camps that surround the city, the picture would likely be very different.

Ramallah is commonly regarded as the most affluent and moderate of the cities in the West bank. I wonder what my experience would be as a Jew in Nablus, or Jenin or Tulkarem.

Until next time,
Seth

Bombing in Tel Aviv

First of all, I’m fine…

As many of you probably know by now, there was a suicide bomber attack in Tel Aviv yesterday (Monday). 9 civilians were killed in the explosion that also took the life of the 21 year old bomber from the area near Jenin in the northern West Bank. The attack took place at a falafel stand at the old bus station. Ironically, the blast occurred at the very same falafel stand that was hit by a bombing in January.

Initially, reports came out that the bomber may have been as young as 16 – the same age as most of the kids that we work with at Seeds of Peace. It was later determined that the bomber was 21 years old, but it was quite shocking to think about a 16 year-old kid blowing himself up and taking 9 innocent lives with him.

This bombing was a horrible and despicable act, and it brought up a couple of key questions for me.

1) How did a suicide bomber make it from the Northern West Bank to Tel Aviv during this current period of closure?

This is the question that must be making Israeli officials very nervous. Many people recognize the wall/ barrier as a harsh measure, but necessary to ensure Israeli security. If it doesn’t provide that security, then what purpose does it serve? I guess the argument can also be made that the barrier should be enhanced – that if a 10 meter wall didn’t keep Israel safe, maybe a few extra feet and more razor wire will do it… And if that doesn’t work, what next?

2) Can you have a civil war before you have a state?

Mahmoud Abbas (Abu Mazen), the President of the PA came out and condemned the attack, using some of his harshest criticism yet for an attack. On the other hand, the Hamas government has condoned the attack, calling it “an act of self-defense.” It seems like there is a split in the Palestinian population between those who espouse the more moderate tactics of Mahmoud Abbas, and those who condone the suicide bombings. Even within Abbas’ own party, the militant elements have asked Abbas to issue a public apology for condemning the attack. As the Hamas government struggles to pay its bills, and deliver on its promises of social programs, I fear that the Palestinian public will be further polarized into those who are frustrated with Hamas (because of violence, and the economic ruin that was precipitated by their election), and those who remain loyal to Fatah and the moderate stance of Mahmoud Abbas. In fact, there are probably four or five factions, as the Fatah party has splintered into several groups with varying degrees of allegiance to the President. I suspect that as the international community places more pressure on Hamas, these fissures in the Palestinian society will start to widen. With this instability, how can anyone speak for the Palestinian people at the negotiation table? (I know I’m being optimistic even thinking about negotiations).

If you feel like reading more media coverage on the attack, have a look at this link: http://www.haaretz.com/hasen/spages/706785.html

Good night all,
Seth

Jerusalem is Burning

A special two-for-one on blog entries tonight. This evening, I was cleaning up the dishes from dinner, when something outside caught my eye. Out of my window, I could see huge flames and billowing smoke coming from the middle of Mea Shearim – the Haredi neighbourhood just north of my apartment. Of course, I grabbed my camera, put on my shoes and went to check it out.

After wandering through the streets, following my vague sense of where the flames ought to be, I finally came to Nathan Strauss Street. I was greeted by an image out of a war zone. The street had been blocked off with overturned garbage dumpsters that had been set on fire. There didn’t appear to be any violence going on, as I saw a few kids dropping more bags of garbage on the burning piles.

Here are a few pictures I took:

Shocked and confused, I kept walking down the street, passing four or five more fires. After a few minutes, I reached a blockade set up by the police. I approached a soldier surveying the crowd and asked him what was going on. “I tell you what’s going on. We put a criminal in jail and the Haredim don’t like it,” he answered.

I had seen the news story on Ha’aretz.com this week. A 19-year old Haredi man, Yisrael Valls, was in custody after being charged with killing his 3-month old son. It’s a sickening story. Apparently the man (and I use the term loosely) confessed to slamming his 3-month-old baby against the wall. He said he was frustrated because the child would not let him sleep. He also said he felt disgust over a deformity in the child’s neck muscles. (For the full story, cut and paste this into your web browser: http://www.haaretz.com/hasen/spages/704502.html)

The Haredi community wanted Valls to be set free before Passover, and warned that if he was not, “Jerusalem would burn” – and so it did. The Haredi community recognizes the authority of their own tribunals over that of the Israeli government, and wanted Valls turned over to them. My cynical side says they want to deal with it internally to avoid having all of the details made public and drawing attention to the insular community.

I have to admit, I was troubled by the news story, but I told myself, “Every community has its sick people.” Unfortunately, I’m not sure I can explain away the revulsion I feel for people who would set the streets on fire to free a child-killer.

It almost seems fitting that after a Passover evening in which I felt such solidarity with the Jewish people of Israel, something like this happens and I see clearly the Ultra-Orthodox community saying to me as a secular Jew, “We are not like you. You are not one of us. Let us deal with our own.”

If anyone else can make sense of this, please help me out.

- Seth