Okay, okay, so I SAID I would write a blog all the time and I don’t. You can yell at me all you want, but only as long as you understand what a busy bee I am out here in this crazy place. And if you know me at ALL, you know that I am nothing other than a busy bee.
Let’s see, updates… where do I start? One week before Passover I volunteered at a Refugee Pesach Sedar, held for anyone in the area who wanted to join us at Levinsky Park, right at the Takhana Merkazit. I got a chance to get on the microphone and read a portion of the Hagaddah. There I was, in front of hundreds of Africans, Israeli’s, and other human beings, all breaking matzah and sharing stories of struggles making it across Egypt and the Sinai to come to the Promise Land.
I sat down with a table full of young African men, who I soon found out didn’t speak much English after attempting to introduce myself. Although there was this one Sudanese kid, 23, named Samuel. He’s a line cook at a restaurant, who had arrived a few months ago, just like me. He had braved risks of being kidnapped, killed, and exploited, to come here and make money to help his brother, who owes something like $20,000.
It was such an opportunity for me to chat with him, someone I might never take a second glance at on any given day. As a white girl from America, I’m on high guard when I’m walking around this specific area. It’s not the safest of places. People arrive at this Central Bus Station from all over Israel and abroad who are desperate, poor, maybe abusing drugs like some homeless people do to get through the lonely nights, all while waiting for family, a friend, or the ARDC (African Refugee Development Center). They all sit and wait for something or someone at this park. But on this occasion I was making this kid a sedar plate, and for some time my guard was down. Amazing experience.
This is the so called Promise Land, and when the African Refugees - after all the turmoil they face just to come here - arrive, it’s even harder to live a civilian life here. Are they Jewish? If not, they would certainly get turned away at the border if they haven’t snuck in. Do they have a resource waiting for them here to give them a job? There’s something called a “binding contract.” If they find an employer, they can stay in Israel. BUT, if they want to leave that employer, they will be deported. Sad thing is, many of these employers are using Africans for cheap labor, and abuse them. It’s a sad situation. It’s something we learn about in discussions and lectures at our yeshiva, but solutions are still out of arms reach in Israel.
Another story: Passover for me was spent with Osher’s parents in Hebron, in the West Bank. Osher is a girl I met on Birthright, she is Israeli, studying Journalism and Communications at Sapir College in Sderot (next door to Gaza). Heading to the West Bank is like heading into feelings of trepidation that I have not experienced before. The bus is bullet proof with two panes of some poly plastic-like windows. The wall that shadows over the highway blocks a view of Bethlehem. This wall was recently built and protects drivers from being shot at. Military vehicles can be seen sporadically.
Spending time with Osher’s family for the Seder was just like my family’s; one of her brothers wanted to translate the text of the HaGadah and talk about the context, the other brother just wanted to eat already. The kids were running around the table causing mischief and looking for attention. Of course, being in an orthodox household, things were different. I’ve never burned khamutz! I’ve never spent the day after Passover intentionally ignoring electricity until sundown. Once, during this day of rest, forgot I wasn’t supposed to turn on the light switch and did so… quickly realizing what I had done and switched the light off again. No one saw this, except maybe God. I think I’ll be okay…
Final Update: I have a new bicycle. Okay, Jacob’s bicycle. Yes, I am now officially Tel Avivian. I take over the streets on my blue beach cruiser style bike, with, oh yes, a basket on the front. It’s nice to be able to sleep in a little bit more on early mornings of volunteer or ulpan, since my bike takes half the time of walking. A bonus is that it’s great exercise; what else is there? I just wish I could take it home with me!
Missing home like always, but I did extend my flight until the 18th of July.
Okay, I have plenty more to talk about, but I think this will suffice for now. xoxo
