Samir

Over the last couple of weeks I have been invited to visit the homes of some of the members of staff, and yesterday I went to Mughar, a Palestinian village which has a mixed population of Christian, Moslem and Druze. I had visited Ayman a few times, accompanying him to his church, but this time I visited Samir, one of the maintenance workers at the hotel. Samir is Druze, a Moslem sect with many members in Lebanon and Syria. The Druze are unusual for Moslems, in that they always support the state of Israel and participate in the army. However, like all Palestinians, there is a longing to visit relatives in Syria and Lebanon, many of whom they have never met, because there is no peace between these countries and Israel.

Samir lives in one of the nicest houses I have visited in Israel, beautifully decorated with antiques and with commanding views over the Galilee hills. Like many of the Arab houses, there were flags flying from the roof (in Samir’s case, an Argentinean one) – an indication of which team the family were supporting in the ‘Mondial’ (World Cup).

Scots Festival

Every year in May there is a celebration of Scottish culture at the Hotel. This year it coincided with the departure of the General Manager, but the managers (departmental heads) are real professionals, and they pulled it off.

There was a superb closing concert, set in the hotel gardens overlooking the Lake and with wonderful music (admittedly Irish rather than Scottish), and other events such as a whisky seminar, a study of Macbeth through drama, opera and film and an evening of Scottish songs.

A Scottish chef (above) also appeared in a workshop, demonstrating how to cook Scotch Broth - not a patch on my mother’s! -and stovies, and then trifle (with jelly!).

Tension

The siren sounded throughout the country, and people immediately rushed to their shelters. It was an air-raid practice, and I was at my Hebrew conversation class. So the 8 of us trooped downstairs to the designated room and joined all the others from the educational centre. Fortunately it only lasted a few minutes, as the room was full of junk – the thought of spending any length of time there something not to dwell on.

The following morning, quite early, I heard the boom of thunder from the Golan Heights, but it wasn’t thunder: rather the army testing their big guns! Rumours of possible war were suddenly rife in my Hebrew group!

Then to cap it all, there was the incident of the flotilla of ships bringing aid to Gaza, which resulted in several deaths and the almost universal condemnation of Israel. At the Hotel there is a policy (official/ unofficial?) not to talk about politics, and the Arab staff members were reluctant to talk about the incident, apart from in private, whilst the reaction of the Jewish members of staff varied considerably. ‘Why does everyone in the world hate us?’, one of the younger members asked me.

Baptism and Mourning

Rather excitingly, we had a baptism on Sunday evening. Given the small numbers of the congregation here, it is not something which happens regularly – in fact, no-one can remember the last time a baby was baptised here! However, Adeck Mba, the father, is a professional footballer, playing for one of the teams here in Israel – and is a Presbyterian from Cameroon (The Basle Mission were active in that part of west Africa), his mother being an elder. So it was a privilege to baptise little Riya. Also a relief that there was a reasonable congregation of 18 there to witness it and offer support.

Having witnessed at the baptism the joy of new life a baby brings, a very good friend of mine from the hotel, Moshe (photo right), has just been through a very different experience, with the death of his father. Jewish burials take place usually within a day of the death happening different from Africa, where we often waited for days for family to arrive), after which the family hold shiva. This means that the family sit in the funeral house for 7 days. Mirrors are covered, and the family sit on the floor (or very low seating). They also rip their clothes as a sign of mourning. During shiva, a memorial candle is kept alight, and friends call for short visits. Men are not allowed to shave or have haircuts for 30 days, while women do not wear makeup.(At the hotel, the male staff are supposed to shave every day, but Moshe has been exempted for a month). After 7 days, a person can resume work, but in Moshe’s case, work at the hotel is combined with prayers three times a day (early morning at 5.30, late afternoon and evening) – and in Judaism, you need at least 10 people to pray, so it is not a case of rattling through some prayers in private, but of going to a synagogue for at least an hour.

Mourning for a parent actually lasts for a year, and during that time, the mourner is not supposed to go to parties or entertainment, nor is able to invite anyone for meals. Even music is avoided. Of course, many people do not necessarily keep all of this, but the religious would, and Moshe comes from quite a religious family.

Visit to Jenin

The very mention of the West Bank town of Jenin seems to set alarm bells ringing with many of the people here. The incursion of the Israeli army into Jenin was one of the flashpoints of the Intifada, and a number of lives were lost, especially on the Palestinian side. The town was ‘closed’ for some time, and even now I doubted how easy it would be to get in (when I mentioned I was going, one Palestinian friend said I was a brave man!). As it was, there was nothing simpler than getting through the checkpoint (though the vehicle and our luggage were thoroughly searched on the way back!), and Jenin itself was a friendly, bustling town.

I had gone there with Runa Mackay and Janet Powney from Edinburgh, and our main contact was Yousef at the Jenin Cultural Centre, which organizes drama, workshops for children, English lessons and computer classes among other things. [The photo is at the Cultural Centre at Jenin. From left, Yousef, Ahmed, Mohammed and me.] It was interesting to see the children’s paintings, which had been full of violent images of soldiers, tanks, blood, people being arrested. However, the more recent ones are of more peaceful scenes, including the sea – though this is something which can no longer be seen with ease on the West bank. It was also good to visit the Refugee Camp, which had borne the brunt of the fighting during the Incursion, and see the sculpture of a horse, made out of bits of cars (and even an ambulance) which had been blown up during the fighting. Again, taking something negative and turning it into a positive.

We stayed at Yousef’s home in the village of Burqin, and I was excited to find an old Orthodox church there, set in a peaceful garden full of roses. It is reputedly the site of the healing of the 10 lepers, and a church was built there in the 4th Century. The Christian population is small, but there seems to be a good relationship between the Moslems and Christians. Also near Burqin, is a centre for fair trade products (Canaan Fair Trade). There seem to be about 40 farms involved, seven of which are organic, as well as 6 women’s co-operatives. Farmers are given a good price for their goods, and the quality seems to be excellent (I bought some olive oil and some soap). A lot of the produce is sold to Europe and America, and I felt encouraged that the fragile Palestinian economy could be boosted by an organization seeking to benefit women and men in this rural community.

A good visit, and one which re-enforces in my mind both the goodness of people on all sides of this conflict, but also the dreadful injustices being borne by the Palestinians in the West Bank. But ultimately I left feeling more hopeful for the Palestinian people.

Bir’im

Bir’im was a bustling village near the Lebanese border, with a population of Maronite and Melkite Christians. In 1948 the villagers had to leave, hoping that they would return, but it never happened. Many moved to the nearby village of Jish; others went into exile. Their case was taken to court, and the ruling was that they be allowed to return – except ‘for security reasons’ this has never been implemented. Though, interestingly, the people of Jish still bring their dead to be buried at the cemetery in Bir’im. (On Good Friday it is the custom for Christians to visit the graves of their loved ones, and I hear that at 6 o’clock in the morning, several hundred people had made the journey from Jish to Bir’im to continue this custom).

The area is now a national park, as there is an ancient synagogue there, but you can still see the ruins of the houses, though the stone crosses on the lintels seem to have been taken away. The Maronite church is still there, however, and services, hitherto held only once a year, will apparently be held there every Saturday. While I was there, a group of American Christians were looking at the synagogue and had spent 45 minutes there. When we mentioned about the church being just 50 metres away, their guide said it was time for lunch and quickly moved them to their bus. Perhaps the sight of the ruined village would have led to some awkward questions. Out of sight is out of mind.

Though, for the Jews, this is the time to remember, and there have been two memorial days, one for the victims of the Shoah (holocaust) and the other for soldiers who died in wars. A siren sounds over the land, and everyone and everything stops and stands to attention. Looking out my window, I could see vehicles stopped in the middle of roundabouts, with the drivers standing still beside them. This must have been broadcast widely, as I received a text message from the North-western province of Zambia, asking why it happened.

Blog down for 2 weeks

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