Meredith Price VOICES_ LETTERS FROM ISRAEL
january2009
‘All We Can Do Is Pray’
| Meredith Price Levitt
| Special to the Jewish Times
It was supposed to be simple. Aside from the depressing global recession and a series of damaging political scandals, Tel Aviv’s centennial birthday seemed to be occurring in a year ripe with promise. 2009 was basking in the light of potential peace. The growing Iranian threat that many Israelis feared would incite an Israeli air strike and possible retaliation in late 2008 came to naught. Stanley Fischer announced the strength and resistance of the Israeli banks and economy despite rising job cuts and unemployment. Barack Obama got elected and, along with many Americans, Arabs across the world joined in historic celebrations, including many in Israel.
The day after the election, I made a run to the local fruit and vegetable store. Think Kroger’s produce section condensed into a five-by-five box with cucumbers, celery roots and fresh pumpkin pieces arranged in boxes from floor to ceiling alongside hummus, tchina, roasted eggplant salad and marinated cabbage. You get the point. Like most places of its kind in Tel Aviv, it’s owned by an Israeli Arab family. As I griped about the ridiculous price of lemons and tried to decide whether or not to splurge on a tray of homemade bachlava, Yasin greeted me with a wide smile.
“So … Obama,” he said, leaning back on his heels and making a “psh psh” sound with his lips. Yasin keeps track of his clients so that he can talk world politics with the right nationalities. He knows the immigrants from the locals, and he can speak a few words of many languages. Merci beaucoup, he’ll say to the French mesdames. Or bonne journée, as he waves them out. Yasin can say “thank you very much” in German, Spanish and Italin, but his favorite is the Yiddish phrase – a sheynem dank – which he says as slowly and carefully as a royal messenger announcing the king’s passage. Slim and gregarious, Yasin is the quintessential salesman that everyone instinctively loves.
“What do you think about Obama? What’s the reaction in the Arab world?” I asked him.
He thought for a moment and then said, “The Arabs feel that Obama understands world politics, that he can make a change and bring peace. All over Al-Jazeera they showed celebrations, people hoping that Obama will have the answers and be able to make a difference.”
I watched him move a toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other with his tongue – a peculiar habit he’d picked up after quitting smoking.
“And what do you think?” I asked.
He weighed a bag of oranges for an elderly gentleman before replying. “I think Obama will be good for peace. I like him.”
That was the most hopeful statement I’d heard from Yasin about any politician in ages, and knowing that his sentiments were joined by many other Arabs and Arab nations was enough to make anyone hopeful.
As 2008 drew to a close, even Hamas seemed to be conciliatory and respectful of the latest cease-fire attempt. The peace process had an illusion of solidity, and I planned to write about Tel Aviv’s fascinating history in January. Since the 60 founding families met on the sand in the spring of 1909 to receive their plots of land in what would later become known as the seashell lottery, a lot has happened. The garden suburb dreamed up by a few Zionists has come a long way.
Then the plans changed. While I was on vacation for the last two weeks of 2008, another war broke out. It was the second time I had returned to Israel after a war began, but you never get used to something like that. The first time, I’d been in the air between Tel Aviv and Atlanta when the war with Lebanon began in 2006.
“Israel is the only country that can be at peace when you take off and at war when you land,” my taxi driver had said with an intonation that reminded me of Rodney Dangerfield. “Welcome to the war zone,” he’d chirped. Israelis have a weird sense of humor.
This time, the landing was slightly softer. I’d already heard from well-informed fellow tourists traveling in Thailand that a war had ignited in the Gaza Strip.
“Over 300 poor Palestinians have already been slaughtered, and the big bad boys at the IDF are talking about putting Gaza back 40 years,” a British guy informed me.
“Oh,” I said, picking at a jagged fingernail and closing my book.
He stood there, waiting for me to say that Israel has indeed been bad – a powerful parent beating its defenseless child again. The world seemed to think that Israel should be reprimanded by the courts, and I knew the point wasn’t worth arguing with someone who doesn’t understand the psychological distance between Gaza and Tel Aviv or what it’s like to live with terrorism and constant rocket fire.
I was tempted to ask a question: What would Gordon Brown do if an imaginary third-world France suddenly started sending 80 rockets a day its way, hitting major cities and targeting innocent civilians? Would England not respond because poor France doesn’t have very good aim and it’s not really killing that many people? I couldn’t imagine Margaret Thatcher or Winston Churchill adhering to that line of thinking.
But instead of arguing, I sighed and held up my hands. I was still on vacation. I watched the waves crashing onto the sand, trying to concentrate on sea foam rather than the young IDF combat soldiers I’d interviewed in early December. “You go on vacation and all hell breaks loose,” my father wrote in an e-mail. But it’s not me. It’s the reality of life here. It’s just that kind of place.
In the 40-minute cab ride home in thick Sunday morning traffic on Jan. 4, I heard enough of the mounting tragedies on both sides to feel sick. “I just hope the operation ends soon and successfully so I can get home to my wife and children,” said one reserve soldier interviewed on the radio. The Israeli reporter discussed the grave danger and imminent challenges posed by a ground assault. Just four days into the new year, people were already past theorizing about whether it was right or wrong. Most Israelis agreed that this war was unfortunate but necessary.
And how can you concentrate on the architectural accomplishments or the cultural landscape of the eclectic city of Tel Aviv when thousands of soldiers a few kilometers away are pushing their way into the Gaza Strip, risking their lives for this country’s existence?
Instead, I went to buy some milk and eggs and get some air.
“Where have you been?” asked Gilah the cashier as I walked in to the corner store.
“I was abroad. Terrible about the war,” I said, depressed.
She looked at me for a minute and then replied, “It’s not in Tel Aviv sweetie,” as if because I’m American I don’t understand the difference between the Gaza Strip and my city.
“I know, but it’s Israeli soldiers and it’s other cities and it’s mothers and children on both sides,” I replied.
“All we can do is pray,” she said. “We’re all praying.”
Meredith Price Levitt grew up in Marietta and bought a ticket to Tel Aviv on Sept. 10, 2001. She writes a column on Israeli innovations and cultural features for The Jerusalem Post. You can reach her at meredithmprice@gmail.com.