What's different

I'm constantly asked the question "Which place do you like better [the middle east or USA]?" Similarly, I know that what's here seems foreign to friends there, and vice versa. Unfortunately I don't have a preference [I love both] and I can't un-foreign-ize each place. Hah.

But I wrote recently about the south for those who don't know it. And here are some details about the Middle East maybe you don't know about:

1. when you are outside the Tel Aviv airport's main terminal, you could honestly confuse it for LAX that's how similar the construction style is
2. the toilets here generally have two flush options, and I guarantee not a single time I intended more or less water did I deliver that into the bowl. I'm always guessing wrong, in other words
3. right turns on red are not allowed in Israel, not because of which side of the road people drive on - they drive on the right - but that's simply the law
4. right turns on red ARE allowed in the West Bank, and yet there is likely to be a lot of honking regardless of what the driver chooses to do with that opportunity
5. radio stations are in Hebrew, Russian, English, and Arabic - one in particular is called "Sowt Israel" and broadcast entirely in Arabic -- yet the name means "Voice of Israel." I can't figure out why this is so
6. the super bowl is tonight - here is my post on it from last year - and it starts at about 1:30am tomorrow. ugh, if only i weren't interested in the whole charade. 

I drove around the Sea of Galilee the other day/night and grabbed this picture

Tasareeh

As you know, Palestinians need Israeli permission to travel outside the West Bank and Gaza. Last week I went for my first time with a few locals to the office that issues the tasareeh, as they're called in Arabic. And after a couple hours, and a little frustration, the tasareeh were ours. And despite today being more frustrating - in my second attempt to secure tasareeh - my buddy and I had a laugh at the end.

I didn't even know until 15 minutes before picking him up that Hanna would be the guy joining me. But we got connected through one of the guys who came last week (they're both among the 20 or so people we were looking for tasareeh for today). And soon after we were in the car headed south of Bethlehem.

The tasareeh office is in the middle of Israeli settlements between Bethlehem and Hebron along road 60. The tasareeh office is decorated entirely in blue and white, the colors of Israel. And the tasareeh main office/waiting room has no human receptionist, only a computer to type in one's ID number. Later one gets called into the next waiting room, and to get there one has to pass through a superbly-intimidating turnstile. Some talking to a guy behind lots of layers of glass, and then the waiting game.

Today I was regretting that I wore a royal blue collared shirt, concerned that (in the eyes of others waiting for tasareeh) it would connect me to the Israeli government -- on the other side of this fraught relationship (and conflict). But what made me mad was being told at the tasareeh office to go to another office, about 20 minutes drive away. And then at that office told once more to return to the tasareeh office! How infuriating, and wasteful, and demoralizing. Learned we should ask for a particular person by name; it worked and we were out in maybe an hour.

This whole time I was wondering where I could direct my anger. But when Hannah finally got in the car with all the tasareeh in hand, we perused through pictures printed onto the documents. And we laughed heartily at everyone's old photos...from maybe five years ago. I guess (like Singer Cafe) this is another situation where I was saved from total meltdown instead of the one saving.

Unrelated picture of Noam and Nadeem at a recent CIT meeting:

Arabic revisited

My friend Amanda was visiting me for the last week. She saw the sites and lived some pieces of my daily life here. This being her last day, we woke up early and drove to the airport for her departure flight. Just before walking into the airport's main terminal building, a security officer showed us her badge and asked for our passports. This is a selective screening, so not everyone (hardly anybody actually) gets stopped. Random.

Anyway, while looking at our passports she asked questions like where did we visit, what do we do. I absent-mindedly said I study Arabic and nonprofits. Thus set off a few more questions - where did I study, was this my first trip to Israel, and "please wait a few minutes so I can get my manager."

Mind you, I'm not even flying. I told the security officer that Amanda needed to get to her flight and anything about me was inconsequential. Didn't matter - the manager showed up a few minutes later and asked me questions. When did I start studying Arabic? Where do I coach frisbee? More questions but in an intimidating style.

This security manager even said that he speaks Arabic, that its one of his languages. But the general feeling was that studying Arabic is cause for concern for the airport security. And further, that speaking Arabic makes me suspicious. He gets to harass me because I study Arabic? Its one of two OFFICIAL ISRAELI LANGUAGES. Not English, Arabic. And yet studying it is some red flag.

Unrelated video (was intended to be a picture but came out as a video. Karym and I were dressed up for the Jewish holiday Purim):

To Know

A couple of years ago, I said  to a co-worker: "You know the difference between being a student and a professional. Students are looking to know more while professionals are looking to show off what they know." Ironically, now that I'm back in school, my biggest frustration is knowing.

What's up with the desire to know?

Nahko Bear (famous for his music group Medicine for the People) sings this beautiful song, Black as the Night:

I am no master, I know nothin’
I am no master, I know nothin’
I am no master, I know nothin’
but I am a servant and I know somethin’

Lots at work here, including Nahko Bear's practice of "servant leadership" and a rejection of top-down sources of knowledge. Seeing ourselves as unable to own knowledge turns this "looking to show off what we know" thing on its head. In pursuit of this learner-mentality, I came to the Middle East in January under the job title of "student."

But I'm struggling still with not knowing Arabic. I wish there were a finish line for proficiency that I could see off in the distance and work towards it. Instead I feel like I can't chart what little progress I am making.

Accent

Shukran is how you say Thank You in Arabic. If you're pronouncing it for the first time, think shuck (like an ear of corn) and Ron like the name. I remember in 2003 (while I was studying abroad in Morocco) saying Shukran and getting back "your accent is really good."

More than ten years later I'm back to saying Shukran quite a bit. Unfortunately when I say it, I hear something different in my pronunciation. I hear myself saying shukran less fluidly. My mouth's transition between 'shuk' and 'ran' changed - basically deteriorated :-(

On the other hand, I have been meeting more and more entirely in Arabic. These can be one minute interactions or much longer. For example, I went on a tour of Tent of Nations just outside Bethlehem. With the manager there, Daoud, I walked around and learned about what he's doing (mostly in Arabic).

That's where I got this picture.

Tonight - a lot in one

Tonight I stopped by my neighborhood grocery shop that specializes in sweets. The guy who works there offers a real nice smile and handshake, too. I was expecting just to say hello, buy something with chocolate in it, and make my way home. But when my friend who works there seemed interested in shooting the shit, I willingly stuck around for a few minutes. Our conversation wandered from favorite soccer teams and leagues to more serious issues, like Israel and Palestine (by the way, you are allowed to have a favorite team in each country's league, for example Barcelona in Spain, Manchester United in England, etc).

So people here are curious about me. Where did you learn to speak Arabic? is the most common question I get. I'm glad to spend little time explaining: Yes, I studied it in school. Yes, Arabic is taught in America. Yes, I learned classical Arabic (this gets a laugh because so few people are comfortable speaking classical Arabic and I have such a hard time understanding the dialects spoken). 

So with this guy, my friend the grocer, I had mentioned Ultimate Peace before. Tonight I showed him an Ultimate Peace promo video on my phone. Despite not believing frisbee was a sport before watching it, he was impressed with the play and what UP is doing :-) Afterward, he asked me: Are you for or against Israel? Interestingly enough, I've been asked the same question by a friend in Atlanta. 

My answer was basically that my Arabic isn't good enough to give a complete answer. So its hard to even start. But I'm with people, whether they're categorized as Israeli or Palestinian, Arab or Muslim or Jewish or Christian. This does not fit the typical narrative of picking sides, and defending one country or another without question. After that, I asked: Is it possible to be for both?

The guys and I also talked about world travel. I'm lucky that I can travel basically wherever I want -- my passport is accepted fairly universally, the license plate on the rental car I drive gives me a free pass between places, and I'm lucky to have access to financial resources. All these things support me in living out Dr. Seuss's "Oh the places you'll go!" In contrast to that, the two guys I was talking to tonight rarely travel outside the West Bank and have never left Israel/Palestine. Israeli restrictions are so tight on Palestinians' travel.

The most shocking thing I learned in tonight's conversation is that my friend (the one who works at this grocery store I like to frequent because of the sweets he carries and his warm smile) -- he has a brother who was killed within a few miles of where we were talking tonight, and where I am right now. What he told me is that his brother was walking to work near a West Bank settlement and was killed. Nothing was done afterward as far as criminal investigation or prosecution. That's something beyond words (even in English) -- strange, awful, scary, baffling, and more. 

Warm bath

I'm living in a real nice home. The family has been generous by opening their upstairs apartment, and welcoming me with meals in their home, plus providing all the amenities I need in the apartment to feel comfortable. Yet the one thing I cannot figure out is how to have a hot shower... 

I flip on the water pressure gauge in the fuse box thinking that might help; I try running the water for a few minutes (which I feel bad about, but am anxious for some hot water to arrive); I try turning on multiple faucets to see if it draws the hot water (this used to work growing up in Atlanta some). None of that is working, so I'm improvising.

So instead of showering every single morning and after every single workout or practice, I'm waiting a little longer. No shame, that's just how it is when the weather is cold and so would be the shower. Also, twice in the last two weeks I took an extra set of clothes when I visited a friend in Herzeliya. 

And though it occurred to me to do this earlier, I didn't have the patience until last night... one of the nicer things I have in my apartment is a water boiler. So what I decided to draw most of a bath of water at whatever temperature the faucet will give me, which is cold, then add a few full water boiler waters thinking it will balance out. Here's the beautiful water boiler:

The water boiler is fast, but still it takes a couple minutes to boil. So I start to enjoy the time between boils...it feels old-timey to draw a bath and wait for hot water. I get to spend a few minutes reading Harry Potter (in Arabic) in the other room. 

Unfortunately, because most of the bath water is cold and the boiling is not instant, much of the heat is lost inside the tub. In all, I spent about 25-30 minutes for the bath...a really patient race-against-time. At the end I had a lukewarm bath that I dipped my whole body into at most three times for getting wet, washing off soap, and a final rinse. That's all :-)

Funny language story

One of my goals while in the Middle East is some greater fluidity/fluency with the Arabic language. Started learning it at 14, and have managed to study in lots of places and at various times ever since. Just not quite gotten there yet.

Arabic and Hebrew are both spoken in this area (both are official languages of Israel; for the Palestinian National Authority its only Arabic). And its well known that the two are really similar languages... alphabets match up nearly exactly, many words have the same syllables and sounds, and they might sound basically the same to non-native-speakers ears.

So last week, I got a rental car in Jerusalem. As I spent my first few minutes in the car, I tried setting up a maps/gps/navigation system. Google maps is alright here (its better in the West Bank, for example); but Waze is by far the most popular and helpful in Israel. What's cool is it actually shares info from driver to driver about traffic, hazards, cops, etc. And despite not being able to see Waze's land map in English (its always in Hebrew), the navigation directions can be changed to lots of languages.

For the first few minutes in the car, then, I'm hearing directions pretty close to words I recognize. "Yemeen" for example, reminds me of "right" (Ben-yemeen, my name's origin, means something close to "son of my right hand" in both languages). Anyway, when I hear yemeen in the navigation of Waze's standard Hebrew settings, I take that to mean that I should get out of the next traffic circle using the road on the right.

But after a few minutes of understanding only part of the directions, I decide to stop at a gas station to change the settings to Arabic. For one, I don't know enough Hebrew. For two, I want even my navigation to be practice in the Arabic language :)

On my phone, I click a few times and find the settings in Waze. And once inside, it tells me that the directions WERE in Arabic! Dang it!

Soooo, back to the drawing board for the Arabic language. Thankfully there are many willing helpers around me 24/7, plus I have a handful of books in my apartment for continuing my Arabic studies (Harry Potter is the most exciting of them).

What am I doing here?

There is plenty of fodder for pessimism here.

• My first day here someone said "I do not want to play at the camp because [when I'm there] I feel I am playing with my enemy"
• Today, someone said "Peace is not in my vocabulary." And this is someone at an organization that facilitates visitation to the region. They followed it up by insisting that the word peace is overused and therefore has lost meaning, not so much that peace is impossible. They prefer to talk about human rights rather than peace per se
• The news basically everywhere talks only of events that induce fear and further entrenchment on one side or the other

So what am I doing here? (exploring the streets of Jerusalem though obviously not shaving)

• Promoting ultimate and fun - many experts on human and social development note the importance of playing 
• A la Patch Adams, I twisted a couple balloon bears on the inter-city bus today and handed them to the ~six year old next to me. He was so dang polite and thankful!
• Visiting schools, gyms, and places where people play and play sports
• Today in one of the squares of old Jerusalem, a friend and I threw the frisbee with three different groups of guys - only a few minutes apart, groups of Arabs and Israelis were happily tossing with us
• Studying Arabic, both in books and in the cafes/markets/taxis/living rooms around me

Do we have good reason to be optimistic? Even if we don't have "reason" to be, might we be optimistic because of faith or deep-seeded hope?

Second impressions

The last few days have been amazing! Driving was a main feature, which means observing the Middle Eastern style of driving...erratic signals, veering far over the lines for lanes, and generally a different understanding of the space between cars, the road, and humans.

More importantly, Ultimate Peace hosted their biggest ever hat tournament on Saturday! Like a million kids (175 or so) showed up for four-five games of ultimate, seemed to have a great time, and left with another UP jersey and more friends from across the Middle East. I coached the neon green team into the semifinals, and more importantly through some tough issues.

The main challenge that came up in the afternoon was which language the players chose to communicate in...that Hebrew speakers were a minority meant that the Arabic speakers could almost reach everyone on the team with that language. But one player of mine approached me about the discomfort there - especially knowing that the Arabs were proficient in Hebrew. With this, I approached a particularly capable player and natural leader between points. I asked her to see if she would help me include the other players by speaking partly in Hebrew. She listened well - and acted in little chunks on the request. When I thanked her later, she smiled in a great way. Two more things: (1) I asked her later if she would be interested in the CIT program (read below on what that is); (2) she won my team's spirit award at the end of the tournament!

Just before that, on Friday, UP facilitated a bunch of meetings with the Coaches in Training (CITs)...these are basically the cohort of kids who have played ultimate the longest, and practiced Ultimate Peace values the most determinedly for the last few years. I'll be working with a small group of them who want to become coaches themselves.

Last night I visited with the former Ultimate Peace Middle East director. We hung out on his deck leaning back into our chairs talking about the good ole days - and the opportunity I have right now. One great thing he reflected back to me was from camp in 2011. He remembered me coming up to him and Linda (the chief operating officer based in Massachusetts but at camp like the rest of the staff) -- and me saying enthusiastically "this [coaching ultimate in the middle east] is something I want to do a lot more of!"

So cool that I'm getting that chance. Below is a picture from the UP practice in Tamra, one of the strongest ultimate villages in the region. Abe is coaching and Shada demonstrated marking/defense.

What's actually been happening? Part 1

In the middle of September, my friend Matt and I went out on the Atlanta Beltline for some catching up. Our routine is to walk -or ride our bikes- up and back on the northeast section. So I mentioned to him being interested in international work, connecting it in part to what I did with the Carter Center last summer. In turn, Matt offers to introduce me to Rebecca, a friend of his who worked for NDI, another international elections observer group.

So Matt loops Rebecca and I together on email. Rebecca and I set up a phone conversation to get talking. And during our 30-minute talk on October 1st, she encourages me to seize the moment (meaning spring semester 2014 and maybe beyond) - why wait to get the kind of experience I'm saying interests me. Part of the argument is that organizations are looking for people to show their value before those people ask for a salary. And the other argument is that I'm not as old as I think I am (and that regretting not getting this experience at 23 isn't useful).

So once Rebecca and I are off the phone, I mull over what she said. Something clicks. A couple days later email David of Ultimate Peace about making this real. Side note: this was something David and I (along with Sarah VW) talked about back in 2011 - supporting the organization in developing the programs and doing it more like full-time.

By the following Sunday, David and I get on the phone together. Luckily, I had contacted him just ahead of Club Nationals, a tournament in Dallas that was coordinating with the Ultimate Hall of Fame induction ceremony (same city and weekend). David was going to be there -- to himself be inducted! This was the perfect opportunity to meet in the middle of the country and discuss, with Linda present, the opportunity ahead. So only two weeks after talking with Rebecca about seizing the moment, I met with Linda and David to make a real plan for making the move. And that folks is the start of what's been happening!

"Abdul Play"

I recently visited a cabin in north Georgia with Sara and friends from my graduate school program. The ten of us planned to meet at the house in the Blue Ridge Mountains. 

On the way up there Friday night, Sara and I hit some traffic and ended up stopping for groceries after the sun went down. With the week's stress behind us physically, I decided to sit right there in the Food Lion parking lot and meditate. Basically I wanted to rest, and start the weekend relaxed.

Within those couple of minutes, of course several cars drove by. One truck even parked directly in front of us, shining headlights on our probably-odd-looking practice of consciously resting inside the car. And as my thoughts wandered around my day and week, words and sensations started increasing their pace. I briefly felt my legs where they were. And then it happened: 

The words (that I can transliterate as) ABD-ALTAL3AB popped into my head. And before leaving them alone, I questioned where these came from. Why would I would think  those words? Taken together, this roughly means SLAVE OF PLAY... someone who is dedicated to playing. I immediately connected the thought to my ambition to volunteer more seriously with Ultimate Peace in 2014. 

What was really odd about the thought in that moment was that I had never heard this phrase before. Its actually improper Arabic - but the meaning gets across. The second part combines the verb TO PLAY with an article that only accompanies nouns. 

And even crazier that, here on my blog, my most recent post was from last summer at Ultimate Peace camp - and about fun!

Wishin it would rain

Every now and then, I get into a darker mood and wish for rain. This makes the summer (actually, most seasons) in Atlanta fairly satisfying. Except for these last couple weeks, during which the clouds have threatened but rarely produced much rain at all. On the other hand, this tendency towards darker moods would make living in a climate like southern California's pretty unbearable. Speaking for me, not everybody. I think my wish for rain reflects more inner darkness than what comes through during everyday interactions.

But yesterday's sadness came from a few external things, like the news of death in the community. Not on par with that, but disappointing nonetheless, I heard yesterday from the State Department that I'm not invited to continue in my application to the Foreign Service. :( I don't feel entitled to the interview, but I have continued to maintain that I'd be able to succeed in the application and the Foreign Service Officer career. State apparently doesn't agree.

I just checked their online notification letter again to make sure I didn't mis-read it or that it wasn't wrongfully delivered yesterday. Maybe they put someone else's name on it and I downloaded the wrong one. But no. In an administration that is pumping up diplomacy, while managing highly-sensitive situations in Arabic-speaking countries, I thought I'd have to chance to go further in the process. My mistake.

Haven't done a pity post in a while, but here's why I'm "wishin it would rain."

The Love

This is my favorite word in Arabic. It means love. Well, the way its written here actually is 'the love.' This is the only thing I've ever considered getting a tattoo of. I think its so beautiful.

The Hardest Post I Ever Published

In language class at GW, a regular exercise for 'beyond daily conversation' was to discuss the hardest decision we ever made. Well, naturally, everybody said about the same thing: deciding which college to go to was the hardest decision I ever made. 

The truth is, at least in my case but I'm guessing in other's cases, also, which college to go to was probably the easiest decision I ever had to make. Michigan and UGA wait-listed me and I didn't want to go to the other school I got into.

So I lied about the hardest decision I ever made. Just to be normal. 

Now my philosophy is that sometimes the most difficult decisions in our lives are the simplest. Like what to wear. Or what to eat. In honor of all those classes I lied to all those times, here's my honest version of what the most difficult decision ever would sound like, in English: 

"the most difficult decision I have ever made is what I would wear today. I thought for 30 minutes about what this shirt versus that shirt says about myself, the weather, and the [insert extraneous data] I'm going through today. 

And I chose an [mention color and fit, age and purchase price] shirt with [it doesn't matter] pants [or does it?]. But I presently regret the decision to wear this particular combination because the shirt flairs out at the stomach, making my whole body look less desirable than I want; and this is turning off potential sexual partners."

The End

Just Do What You Know

I learned how to create text on a pdf document this week. Instead of simply writing over something with a kind of text box, I learned that, with the right font, one can change an entire line.

Reading Squirt's blog, I thought of this phrase my high school Arabic teacher used. Every Friday, when he'd quiz the class on what we did that week (vocab, whatever), students would ask him petty questions and look to him to give away the answer.

Also, kids would cheat off each other's paper. Unlike the history teacher, who'd threaten to give an automatic zero even at the suspicion of cheating, my Arabic teacher would say "Just do what you know!"

There's a lesson in the phrase. But there was also humor, cause we'd be nervous and he would just yell with light-hearted anger that we were so clueless after he taught hard all week long...