Saturday, December 5, 2009

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.