Last Friday morning, early, after almost 4 hours of sleep, I took off from my home in southern Tel Aviv to embrace the unknown: traveling without the group and supervision, only my friend Melanie, to the Negev Desert. Be’er Sheva to be exact. What would be waiting for me would be a remarkable weekend working with Bedouins, and unforgettable experiences at what was called the Mud & Music Festival.
Melanie almost lost a hand holding the train door open. It was the wrong train we realized at the very second the doors were closing, and we barely managed to jump back to the platform at the HaHagana Train Station in central Tel Aviv. Here we are, holding our backbacks and sleeping bags, looking very American, surrounded by soldiers heading to their bases or maybe to see loved ones, laughing nervously at the thought of traveling around on our own. Once on the right train, we breathed a sigh of relief, although we still had to make sure we got off at the right stop. After successfully reaching the platform of Be’er Sheva Center Station, we refrained from patting ourselves on the back, as we still needed to find the 48 bus that would drop us off at a freeway bus stop in the middle of the desert. Now, we’re not as stupid as some locals around us were probably thinking, we were just fine – well, at finding the bus. There was still the matter of telling the bus driver in Hebrew to drop us 3 kilometers before the city of Dimona…
When we got off the bus, we looked around. Yep, we were at Qasr A Sir, the road entering the Bedouin Village. Scattering the dirt road in front of us was piles of garbage, run down shacks, and random barefooted children on rusty bikes, staring at us hike up the road. We waved, and they waved right back, looking curiously at us and our layers of belongings.
We arrived to see a good amount of people shoveling dirt, building a compostable outhouse, and more. We were served some tea, a staple of Bedouin life, asked to take a load off, and then grab a bucket. I was helping shovel dirt into these buckets which were brought to a circle of large sandbags. The goal of this unit was to become a dome, a communal hut if you will, for the Bedouins to use. There will be three total, I was told (But at the end of this weekend, as much as we completed, even one was an ambitious task!). Bedouins, Israeli’s and Americans alike, people from all over the world, were here to help out, and everyone was friendly, welcoming and interested in eco-building and sustainable living ideals.
At one point, I was cutting some rope. There were many kids running around, helping to shovel dirt into buckets with their little dirty bare hands. I tried to impress a couple of the kids by jumping rope. Then I look up, and I am surrounded by almost ten kids, and counting, as more come running over from who knows where! I taught them double dutch style jump rope, tug of war, and how to limbo for the next couple of hours.
For the rest of my weekend, when I wasn’t slinging mud on straw walls of half finished homes, or holding sandbags for people to poor dirt into, I was playing with these kids. They were so cute! They all loved the attention I gave them, showing me they can count to five in English, begging to use my small digital camera, and going crazy over my harmonica. I showed them how to make music with empty 2 liter soda bottles that you could find littered in ditches on sides of the road, and they let me hold their baby goats. It was amazing. They took some great photos of themselves, and were always shouting, “Ani!! Ani!!” (“Me! Me! As in, “my turn, my turn!”) And of course, always making the motions with their hands for more jump rope.
The night came and all the kids started to head home. Mimona, a very smart, sincere Bedouin girl, whom all the young kids looked up to, invited me to her home. I walked with her, a bit uncomfortable because I know her mother was not expecting me, and entered the front door. Her beautiful mother greeted me with a big smile, and after I explained that I was a volunteer from California, exclaimed, “We love America!!” She proceeded to guide me through her home, showing me every single room and pictures on the walls, even looking for any knickknacks that she could share with me. She and the girls seemed to share one room, the husband in another, the grandparents in another, it was a large home that was much more beautiful than I ever expected (except for the bathroom facilities, which pretty much is always just a hole in the ground...). It was a moment that I won’t forget for a long time; being invited inside and treated as if I was a movie star.
That night was also a great opportunity to really bond with the Bedouins, drink tea with them, eat with them, and even sleep next to them (we all shared a tent). Everyone brought their own veggies so everyone had this amazing communal meal of flattened pita, lentil soup with potatoes, salad with tomatoes, bell peppers, avocado, carrots, and more. We also had charcoaled pita, which we made from scratch and handed to the Bedouins, who rolled it around in a recently extinguished fire pit. Amazing.
I have been invited back to volunteer for three days and perhaps teach English to the kids for half a day, or maybe work with the Bedouin women, even just by simply being there and sharing positive energy.
I really can’t say enough how much I enjoyed helping out, and by looking around at their environment, and knowing what little I know about Bedouin society, it’s not an easy life. We made a big impact in their lives and I hope I will be returning soon for more experiences. Maybe I should bring more harmonicas…
No comments:
Post a Comment