Middle East Summit
More of that please
When I was in China in 2013, a week into it I became tired of Chinese food- if you haven’t been there, it is very different than the Chines food in America. Some of it was excellent but most of it was not to my taste. I was happy to find an Arab restaurant. This restaurant belonged to a Palestinian. Al-Jazira on two screens showing some tension. Dang it. I don’t care, I have no issues, I am going in.
A young waiter came to take my order and with a jolly attitude he started talking to me. Where are you from? What are doing here? Are you alone? And so on. Usually in those situations I pull the American Spanish card, not the Sephardic Jew who knows a little Arabic. Oh, no.
My first time as an American Spanish was when alarms sounded inside me the minute a man and his child set across from me on a train somewhere in north India. I had to listened to this uptight man for 2 hours talking about how I am a scum, and how the holocaust didn’t happen. It was surreal. I gave myself an Oscar for playing my role well, and I did stand against his view with questions. I grew up in a neighborhood that almost all the elders had a number tattoo, like a cow stamp, on their arm from the holocaust. Two of them couldn’t bring children because the Germans experimented on them in the ghetto, and my mom adopted them as grandma and grandpa for us. Baby, the stories are firsthand. I still love mamaliga, I used to eat this Romanian food in Yichalle’s (Yiddish for Rachel) apartment once a week.
But the interaction in the restaurant was different, and I decided to be myself.
We talked for a while, and we touched on the relationship between us- Israel Palestine. We both agreed we have no argument. And he invited me to go out with him and his friends later that night. He said, “It is going to be fun. You must come- what do you have to do anyway, and don’t worry”.
Ok. Fun. I’m going.
In the evening, I found myself on a terrace of a pub somewhere in Yiwu sitting around a large table with many people. All of them in their 20’s and me, the elder, in my early 40’s. Drinking, laughing, and having a good time- I was the traveling guest of Ahamad and I presented myself as I am. Born in Israel to a mother from Iraq and father from Libya, living in America, doing business in China.
They were intrigued with my American/ Israeli identity- asking many questions and sharing their own stories with me. They were from Yaman, Syria, Iran, Iraq, and Palestine/ Gaza and West Bank. Young people who are looking for a better life and are tired of their own countries’ religious restrictions and control. We talked about it, we took the elephant in the room and put it on the table. Made fun of the whole thing. They were tired of following something they don’t believe in. The guy from Iran said that “the control makes no sense, we are not a free people- it is why we are here in China”- and we all rolled our eyes in understanding and saluted to him with another drink. Ahamad fled from the West Bank because he was pressured to join the “resistance” and feared he would lose his freedom to them like many others he knew.
We drank lots of alcohol for peace even though I don’t like alcohol, and my friends are restricted by their religion. We picked on a ton of sunflower seeds they brought with them, and we called ourselves the summit meeting of the Middle East, in China. All of us had a bit of sadness mixed with disbelief of how we can sit together but our leaders cannot. We had no problem talking about a future of not only more humane but consisting of a real friendship. There was a feeling of possibilities. We know we are all Abraham.
That evening, I saw a new generation. Those guys liked the western life. They realized that religion is somewhat crazy, and maybe it fitted for a certain generation- but it lost its touch on us. We don’t need it to know or acknowledge god. It’s like rules and regulations, now go read the fine print that screws you. They didn’t care to fight wars; they didn’t believe what they had been told because they could see for themselves. Times have changed and we all have a computer in our pockets. In simplicity, they wanted to live the good life and forget about a stupid holy war.
It has been a decade.
Everything looks the same.
Almost.
We had the Abraham accord, and as unnoticed as this peace treaty was in the West for political reasons- for the Middle East it was a big deal. Now, before it is too late for them- because the Middle East was gaining momentum of peace through growing relationships- the radicals have taken the stage. A repulsive show that came out of a tasteless horror badly made movie scene was executed. What a fuckery.
I was deeply disappointed by the reactions, in general, in the world- it was a reignition of hate. I started writing this 3 weeks ago with a different title: “where are you”. I wondered where all the young generation vanished, and why don’t we hear them? Why haven’t I seen them everywhere protesting their radicals?
After I asked, and maybe because I asked- I started seeing them popping out on You Tube. I don’t think it is enough to change the chanting mobs, which is an absolute zombi enigma, but it is a start- and maybe I am wrong. Maybe it is going to be enough.
I know what happened was enough for me.
There is one guy that stood out above all the others, Mosab Hassan Yousef- Son of Hamas. But there are many. It takes clarity to see the difference between what contributes to life and what takes from it.
For a few days I utilized more media than my 5 minutes a day thingy, I browsed you tube, and I found many more young people talking in a way I haven’t seen before. From all religions and without a religion- And I feel that the evening in China, somehow, was happening everywhere is small snapshots, and now, it is coming to life, slowly- but in masses because many young people are fed up.
I know you are. Maybe it is the real ‘me too’ movement…
Maybe after the dust settles, honey will start dripping from the matrix of brutality on all dimensions. Love exists and it is beyond everyone’s (who is participating in brutality and hate) imagination. But first people need to grow up. In any given moment and space, compassion and understanding are there for you to find the gate to the light. But it does not come without clarity. Your real universe is not what your eye-camera sees but the projection of it. Those projections can change instantly.
It doesn’t mean that I am not angry for what happened. I am processing and I have much more to say, and I am going to say every bit of it, in time. When a neighbor dropped by a few days after the massacre, he approached it with slogans of peace. He didn’t realize that he is comforting a woman who felt as if she just buried her sons, and all I could hear was, “you will get over it and the world needs you to bring a new child now”. Peace, peace, we need peace, make peace. Without any sensitivity for the raped ones, for cut dicks of man in the streets of peace, for burned bodies that came out of a nightmare as if from Genghis Khan invasions. Not for the bodies, not for me who lives in my private universe- but to eliminate the option of it ever to happen again in that realm. No. I said no. There is time for everything. It is time for war and peace will be acknowledged by everyone involved after. When those cycles of viciousness are done. And I am Peace, thanks.
Some people think that if they have it in them to give the other chick, or to lay down and die when someone is ready to take their lives- then everyone needs to do it. We are different, don’t you know.
It has been two months.
I was led to all kinds of places to look into the eyes of truth on so many levels. I feel I am being pulled from my lala land into a reality that is so far away from me. To me, things are simple. When I see a person, I see a soul. Our personal stories and brotherhood are a bonus of closeness. And our friendship and connections must be based on respect and realization of that simple truth.
I am rooting for us.