Life in Israel (2)

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Homeless and speechless. That was me pretty much. The seminary I had supposedly enrolled in was saying I was not enrolled. I had a list of names people gave me as contact, but that was for meals and visits; I wasn't sure if I could actually ask them for shelter.

I felt anger and a raging need to get revenge on the Rosh Yeshiva. I called the Rosh Yeshiva back and gave him a piece of my mind. Much to my surprise, he wasn't a kitty cat and gave back as much as he was getting. It turned into a shouting match and ended with a hang up.

After that, I had adrenaline pumping throughout my body. Survival mode was kicking in. I felt a bit lucky to be American and black. I figured I could move in and out of whatever circle I would need to whether it was Muslim, Christian, or Jewish. This might be useful at least until I got to the airport to change my ticket and head back to my already rented out apartment in Chicago. As I sat on my suitcase figuring all this out, a van swung by to drop off a bunch of seminary girls. As they waved good bye to the driver, they saw me. We checked each other out. I was dressed as a typical religious Jew. The nice shoes, tights, long skirt, collared shirt. Some of the girls were also dressed like that. Some not. One in particular wasn't. She had a t-shirt, jeans and gym shoes. And she lit up a cigarette and came to talk to me.

O boy.

"Hi" She began, "Are you okay? Do you need help?"

Her voice had such concern, I was taken aback. The look didn't match the character.

I explained my situation and the girls all tried to help. They flagged back the driver of the van, who turn out to be this well to do American Jewess. They told me about a youth hostel I could go to and even offered to take me there.

It was pretty nice of them! The jean girl hoisted my suitcase into the van and off we went into the night. At last, a nice experience! We all crunched up into the van.

We got to the Old City. The place where the Holy Temple once stood. It was breath taking! The whole Old City was made of white Jerusalem stone -the floor, the walls, everything. Nobody knew exactly where the youth hostel was, so they flagged a soldier and asked if he could take me to it. He agreed.

I thanked everyone and went with the soldier. He was a young guy, in his twenties about. He seemed very nonchalant despite his big massive gun perched over his shoulders. I walked along side him dragging my suitcase.

He offered me some ice cream but I declined. I was too busy noticing a young Arab boy shooting darts with his looks at the soldier. Such a look of hate!!

Living in Chicago, near Devon Ave. there was a healthy diversity of people there. Pakistani lived along side of Indians who lived along side of Jews. The only racist crimes that I heard of was usually from white supremist groups. I had heard in the news about Palestinians vs Israelis, but my only interest was in Torah. I didn't want to get involved in politics. However, walking along side this young soldier and witnessing with my own eyes the venom coming from the Palestinian child, I realized how serious things really were. My heart pounded faster; my lungs just couldn't get enough air.

By the time we got to the hostel, I wanted to claw at the door to get in.

That is how I spent the first week in Israel. While in the Old City, I did notice something very interesting. Many of the Israeli soldiers were young folks. They joked around and were so sweet. I also saw elderly Palestinians with their head wear and stick walking down the street or Arab men playing a game of dominoes (?). Jewish children running to school. And at various times I would either hear the Church bells marking the hour, the Muslim loudspeaker calling their devotees to prayer, or the Jewish mother calling after her child ("Moishyyyyyy").

Everyone lived so closely together! It was like all the smells of all their food was blending. I wished so much for peace. And I was so anger by those who perpetuated strife from both sides. Too many emotions were rendered from me in so short a period. But, it was quite a stay, to be in the Old City. Like having an apartment right next to heaven. I was slightly saddened when the seminary got my papers together and allowed me entrance. Saying good bye to the Old City was hard.