Meeting the Neighbors

Eve rushed into the house. “The neighbor is inviting us over to meet him and his family!” I remember the surprise I felt from these words. It was only a few days ago that this same neighbor had been complaining about our “extreme” noise level and disrespectful young American shenanigans. To sum up the extent of his discontent, he practically compared us to insane asylum escapees set loose in an intimate neighborhood of Jaffa. So, although I was eager to meet the man on the other side of our fence, I was also slightly afraid.

Yet, I went along with Eve and a few other intrigued friends outside our door, through our gate, and over to the open door of the house right next to ours. For a house so close, it was like walking up to uncharted territory. George introduced himself as he led us up the steps to the living room. He possessed a unique nature of being simultaneously formal yet warm and friendly. I had heard about Arab hospitality before, but this was the first time I experienced it for myself. We entered the living room with long blue draperies, plush sofas, and Persian rugs. I noticed the family photos on the wall along with a Christian cross as George’s mother, Noa walked in with a tray of orange soda. She then proceeded to pass around wrapped chocolate truffles, insisting that we take some even when we tried to decline the offer.

A round of introductions were made and three more family members were brought into the fold. We shook hands with George’s father and brother, and laughed as George’s son played shyly in front of the mirror.  I had seen the brother, Paul, a few times but we never said hello to each other. So, it was a little uncomfortable when George started discussing the importance of saying hello to neighbors and making the effort to start a conversation. For me, some neighbors were easy to approach because they smiled, but Paul always seemed disgruntled so I always felt too intimidated to make more of an effort. But, in the living room sitting next to me, Paul seemed very friendly and open. He talked about his wedding engagement and asked us questions about where we were from and what we thought about Jaffa. It made me realize that even under non-smiley faces, there might still be a person who wants to say hello and get to know you. Next time, I wouldn’t be as easily discouraged.

Learning bits and pieces about the family turned out to be less awkward than I had anticipated. Dayna pulled out some of the Arabic she learned in college and Noa was especially delighted by the surprise. Karl needed to run back to our house in the middle of our gathering, but the family was not in the least offended.  George even made a quick mention about the noise level complaint, but emphasized that he understood that we are a young and large group of Americans living together in one house. From his point of view, he had been studying late one evening for an important law exam the next morning, and our partying had completely disrupted his concentration and peace of mind. He was angry, tired, and jumped to a conclusion that we must have been wild, immature, purpose-less foreigners. However, after meeting us, he could see that we were more mature – and perhaps not as mentally insane – as he had initially thought.

The conversation then quickly turned from general introductions to deeper subjects, such as the history of the house, discrimination against Arabs, and the differences between Christian and Muslim Arabs. One of the most interesting parts was hearing the story about the house and how it switched hands from Noa’s mother to Bulgarian Jews and then back to Noa herself. We started to crack the surface on some of the difficulties George and his family experience with getting jobs. And we even talked about how – and why – Christian Arabs and Muslim Arabs are viewed differently in Israeli society. I remember being surprised and grateful that George and his family could open up so much on such controversial subjects.

We sat together for probably an hour, which I consider to be a short time. Yet, in just an hour, we communicated together on serious topics and also came together as neighbors getting to know one another. While we can never change the fact that we are 12 Americans (plus 1 Canadian) in a large and gated house, we can take comfort in knowing that we are welcome on the other side of our gate. At the same time, we must remember that our own doors can pose the largest barriers and we need to remain cognizant that co-existence is a two-way street, even for loud American outsiders such as ourselves.

The Volunteering Begins

Today marked the first day of volunteering, and I woke up bright and early with my housemate/friend Talia to go to Weitzman elementary school in our neighborhood. I have been most excited about this place because firstly it’s in Jaffa – so it hits close to home on many of the controversial subjects such as Arab-Jewish coexistence and kids from low socio-economic backgrounds needing the support and confidence to move ahead to high school and college. However, I was most intrigued by this school because of its “experimental” approach. Although it is a Jewish school, meaning it has bible classes and Jewish related teachings, it has a large Arab student population and focuses on the values and commonalities that exist across religions. In many classes, there are Arab as well as Jewish teachers and they encourage diversity among the staff just as much as the student body. Some unique results from the school’s pluralistic values particularly piqued my interest. Supposedly, it has been observed that some Arab students will kiss the mezuzah and there was one Arab student who moved on to high school and then to the Israeli army, who recently fought in the latest war in Gaza. Interesting, right? Needless to say, I was eager to see the school in action and witness the interactions with my own eyes.

However, my first day sitting in on a 5^th grade and 6^th grade English class more closely resembled a chaotic free-for-all than an education class with idealists and humanitarians. It reminded me of my own 5^th grade class shenanigans … but 10 times worse. There was piercing screaming, running around, hitting, and blatant teacher disrespect. But, on the bright side, it was hard to differentiate between the Arab and Jewish kids and at least they seemed to be getting along in their trouble-making activities. Yet, even with all the yelling and play fighting, I picked up on a spark of genuine motivation to learn English (albeit mostly in the 5^th grade class). I got up out of my seat once and took on a more active role of walking around and checking their work. They seemed super excited to get to know me and Thalia, (e.g., “I like your earring!” I was born in California!”) and they proudly showed off their English skills. It may take some time to get used to the volume and hear over the screams, and I may never see an Arab student kiss the mezuzah, but I have faith that whatever will come will be enlightening and momentous. I think it will probably take some time, but I remain curious and interested.

Real World Jaffa Style

I land in Israel around 4:30 am, get my bags, find the “low long fountain-thingy” in the arrival room and wait for a girl with a shaved mohawk and a tall ginger guy from Cincinnati. As I pick out a good waiting spot, families are running up to each other with hugs, kisses, swooping up children in their arms and I start getting emotional. But, soon enough, Dayna steps through the glass doors wearing the bright neon green headband she said she’d be sporting.  I end up embracing her, probably a little too soon and a little too tight … but I was emotionally charged from all those families and I was excited to be greeting the first real human being on my program. Isaiah walks through the doors about 30 minutes later and he is easy to spot as well. Who could miss a single tall red head walking through a shorter crowd of loved ones?

Fast forward through the cab ride, where our suitcases were hoisted and roped down to the roof of the car. We arrive in Jaffa – 12 Ohev Israel to be exact, and our jaws are probably halfway to the ground as we peer out to our large home. Gilad, who is a staff member of Beit Daniel (http://www.beit-daniel.org.il/), greets us and opens up the door to what can only be described as a mini mansion. Jaws drop all the way to the ground as we take in the spiral staircase, chandelier, marble floors, courtyard, and rooftop. We are the first visitors to this new home that will be ours for the next 5-10 months. Wow.

So, where do I live? Let’s take a closer look, beyond our castle of a home. When you open the doors and walk around our neighborhood, which is Ajami Jaffa, you would never expect to find an enclave of 13 Americans living in the midst of this melting pot of Arab Muslims, Arab Christians, Jews, and other populations. To our left is a 3-4 story home to a large extended Arab Christian family. Two of the children actually go to a school that I might volunteer at! I’ve also been told that one of our neighbors is a Druid doctor, which is supposedly unusual in these parts! While we live in a pleasant courtyard of 6 or so large homes, there is also a scattering mix of shacks, abandoned-looking buildings, newly renovated homes, and the construction of modern luxury buildings closer to the beach, which is a 5 minute walk away from our place. Ajami is in the heart of Jaffa and at the heart of a lot of controversy and pained history. From what I can gather so far, it is generally viewed as an Arabic neighborhood, as it possesses a distinct look and feel from other parts of Israel, including Tel-Aviv and even the more touristy Old Jaffa City. We arrived towards the end of Ramadan and throughout the streets, Christmas lights (or should I say Ramadan lights?) in the shapes of moons, stars, and mosques, shone brightly in windows and on building walls. Walking along side Muslim women in hijab dress (head coverings) and Arab kids with their toy pellet guns while going grocery shopping or grabbing shawarma is a daily encounter for us. On the beach, Arab men ride horses barebacked and race one another by the edge of the water! Life here is certainly a marvel and I’m not even close to scratching the surface of its politics, religion, or social dynamics.

There is a film coming the theatres soon called, Ajami, which provides an intimate look at a number of clashing and violent narratives (e.g., a Pakistani refugee, a Jewish Israeli cop, an Arab Muslim community leader, etc.), and is able to provide a larger picture of the hostility that exists among these diverse groups. http://www.variety.com/index.asplayout=cannes2007&jump=review&reviewid=VE1117940351 It’s so interesting to me that they picked this neighborhood and also casted locals who are non-professional actors. If you have a chance to see it in the states, I highly recommend it! I hope to see it here somehow – with English subtitles.

I realize I’m probably cutting this post short. I plan on writing more about our time spent on Kibbutz Ketura, which is in the south of the Negev Desert, and about my experiences in Ulpan learning Hebrew, and attending a Rosh Hashana dinner with a host family of Jewish Zionists. Every day I encounter something new that helps broaden my mind – even if it is learning simple phrases like, “Ma Nishma?” (What’s Up?) or listening to opinions that sting at my heart. I feel like a kid, a tourist, and a student every minute. I hope to work my way towards being more of a community friend, without ever losing the student or kid in me. As Mira, a reformed rabbi and our program director, says … “It is important to keep in mind two key attributes: Patience and Humor.” And so I will try ...

First Post! The Day Before Departure

It is September 1^st, and I am officially 28 – and perhaps officially insane.  Many would consider my situation a quarter life crisis and I would have to agree.  Here I am in Thessoloniki, Greece, alone, jobless, and getting ready to depart to Israel for a 5 month volunteer/study program called Tikkun Olam (http://www.tikunolamisrael.org/index.htm).  However, if this is the outcome of a quarter life crisis, it could not be more exciting, enjoyable, and enriching.

This blog is called Jaffe in Jaffa, (thanks to Jeff S. for the suggestion), and it is quite fitting.

First off, my last name is Jaffe and I’ll be living in a city called Jaffa in Israel. As Maya and others have pointed out, I can jokingly claim to be the Queen of Jaffa as my namesake clearly indicates divine birthright. I’ll use that line if I run into any issues at customs.

But secondly, Jaffe in Jaffa may turn out to have a real impact on the regular Jaffe … you know, the one from New York, the market researcher, the one who is bad at returning phone calls but can always be counted on, the responsible, humble, opinionated, but sometimes quiet and overly cautious Jaffe.  My brother, Joey, can attest to my cautiousness as I held on for dear life on the back of the Italian motorbike he was driving down the winding and steep roads of Alonnisos.  But, the point is that I hung on and trusted in him and in life – and I’m going to try and apply this same openness to my experience in Israel.

So what the heck is this blog going to be about? Will it be about my personal growth, my observations of the Arab and Isreali cultures, or a more analytical slant on the conflict and interdependencies of the many different people populating Israel?  The truth is, I’m not entirely sure what form it will take.  Although it’s probably advised to have an agenda set out before publishing a blog, I’d like to have the freedom to explore many different subjects that inspire me to share my perspective.  In market research, we try not bring out own biases to the study, but I do have an inkling that this blog will turn out to be a mixture of these different elements, and others, as they are all interconnected and relevant to the overall story.  I’m excited to live out this story and share it with you all.  Shalom! (That’s just about the only word I know in Hebrew, so this should definitely be an interesting 5 months!)