I’m in Hawaii right now, on the other side of the world lagging 12 hrs behind the Middle East. I wake up with the beautiful blue-green Pacific Ocean outside my window watching surfer-newbies take a shot at the waves as tropical birds stop by my porch checking out their food options.
On the street everyone smiles, many girls wear flowers on their necks or behind their ears, vendors open oysters and embed the pearls into jewelry in front of my eyes, and within 10 minutes walk towards the beautiful green mountains, one enters tropical jungle kingdom with fantastic waterfalls straight from the iconography of LOST.
If there’s heaven on earth it must be here: great weather all year, colorful tropical vibe and the best of American consumerism’s abundance. But instead of simply enjoying that, all I can think of is why can’t we have that too? Why are we condemned to fight for territory? why people in our area are so angry and obsessed? Why can’t we focus on joy and happiness as a top priority as well?
I used to blame our religious differences for it, but my Muslim friends say religion is used as political means in a much more basic struggle for money and power. So few people play this game and yet they manage to keep entire populations apart, breeding hate and stereotyping each other through misguided media.
Today, 11.9.09, a day that is remembered as an international trauma, we choose to start melting these stereotypes through the impartial medium of blogs and align with the light, the love and the hope. Thus, we start with the basis needed for all of that to breed, for the bridges to rebuild: we start with trust.
It’s no secret that our administrations don’t trust each other and as people we barely trust our administrations, so can we trust each other, as people? What needs to happen in order for YOU to restore your trust in the other side which you might perceive as an enemy but actually you don’t know too much about? What needs to happen in order for us to be willing to take a chance on that?
One thing I realized about Israelis lately is that we desperately need to be safe, always in the comfort zone. And so it’s really hard for us as to bare the risks of openness for peace: we feel we’ve done that before and all we got was hurt and terror, so we freaked out, closed up and built a wall on our land and in our hearts.
However, the same way we don’t close our hearts after a love gone sour and we’re willing to be hurt again in order to feel love again, we need to keep that gate open for peace even if it’ll be abused by some on the way. I know, I’m afraid too. But to think peace will sneak up on us peacefully on our terms only is a bit childish, isn’t’ it?
I mean, do we have any other choice but open our hearts in trust even when it’s hard and scary, especially when it’s hard and scary and pray love gets the upper hand?
What do YOU need in order to open up to trust again? Bloggers from the EuroMed area will blog for trust today as part of the “restore trust, rebuild bridges” campaign. Please join us: add “I blog for trust” to your posts, spread the word or record a video response to our clip.
I would also like to recommend a new blog that attempts to build such a bridge to warm up the cold waters of the Israeli-Egyptian peace. Meet Mr. Foul and Mrs. Falafel. I strongly recommend following them as it seems it’ll be both informative and funny.
On the second morning of the ALF bloggers intercultural training, the Luxembourg abbey was turned into a casino: we were seated arbitrarily at 5 tables, and Xavi, our non formal education trainer, taught us to play “Barga” (which is Whist with a twist). After every round, the winner moves to the right table and the loser to the left, thus two people are replaced at each table. Oh, and we aren’t allowed to talk during the entire game. What we didn’t know is that every table got slightly different game rules that were taken from the table when the game officially started.
Identity politics, decaffeinated
I lost the first round, and as I walked towards my new table, I realized the game must be a metaphor for immigration to a new culture. Indeed, this new table culture was weird. When they claimed I won, I laughed and showed them they’re crazy in sign language but I was happy to go back to my original table. I was zigzagging between winning and losing so I visited only two tables besides my original and the vibe there was weird. I played calmly without even understanding the rules by which I was playing, letting others lead and assuming different interpretations in different tables. When I got back to my table I was received with hugs and laughs and I was so happy to come back “home” I was almost sorry I was winning again.
At the end of the game we broke the silence and broke down the metaphor. We perceive ourselves as liberal and global but “Barga” proved we all fall into our unaware cultural stereotypes when we encounter uncertainty. I was the classical Jew, turning her home-table into a happy sticky Jewish family, focused on the community rather than the laws, and although I seemed assimilated at other tables I was clueless, I wasn’t having fun and I couldn’t wait to be back home. Deep down I think I even believed my table had the real and right understanding of the rules (the chosen table? Mmmm).
Another blogger from my original table, Greek Orthodox from Cyprus, took upon himself the missionary/imperialist role and spread our rules to all other tables, confusing players even further. The “world” gave in to him until he met resistance from the Palestinian blogger, who was sick and tired of being confused. Later she confessed no table felt like home and she was angry and felt deceived by everyone. I felt great compassion to this “trust no one” refugee consciousness that we share in our cultural genes, although we employed different strategies to deal with it.
The Lebanese blogger confessed the game felt like Lebanon for her, when every group plays by different rules and the only way to survive is to form alliances. She indeed formed an alliance with the British blogger and they were showing drawings to newcomers socializing them to the rules they’ve established. Finally, kudos to the Egyptians that were adapting quickly everywhere, having fun and winning, bringing back new integrated methods from other tables.
Tolerance means stepping outta the comfort zone
We went back to our study room, confused and troubled, to get some theoretical explanation for what we felt. Xavi explained people do everything to get back to their comfort zone but real learning occurs in the stretch zone only. However, if you stretch too much you’re in the panic zone, where anger, hysteria and frustration kill learning again. When one is able to endure the stretch zone, growth happens and one’s comfort zone expands.
When we encounter Otherness most of us become ethnocentric. Even if it doesn’t normally get to the point we deny the Other’s humanity or defend ourselves from their danger, we all minimize. Minimizing the Other is a sublime daily ethnocentrism in which we come with good intentions (or just politically correctness) to respect others but we are pretty fixed on our views and think their interpretations are lesser than ours. Xavi asked us to entertain the idea we are rarely in real dialog. We rarely listen when we are truly open to accept and integrate.
This intensive training actually provided numerous opportunities for me to dive into the stretch zone. The farther I’ve stretched was probably the culture night, as I had to witness the Palestinian blogger present Jerusalem, Jaffa and Nazareth which to me form part of Israel. When she joked even Jesus was Palestinian, I couldn’t find my sense of humor to remark that Mel Gibson must stand corrected and do another movie to get off our Jewish backs.
Honestly, I didn’t expect I’d be bothered but this training proved the Jewish gene comes uninvited; channeling through me that ancient fear of being homeless again, losing that little piece of land that comes without the peace of mind anyway, after my ancestors paid such a heavy price for it. My voice was still a bit shaky as immediately afterward I started my presentation, thanking God I went for stuff like Bamba snack, Ilan Ramon and the Israeli high tech creativity rather than retreating into the state city of Tel Aviv, my comfort zone.
Being strong means becoming comfortable with the stretch zone
That night I cried. I couldn’t’ sleep and I wasn’t even sure why. After two days of reflection I think I can offer some explanation, though. I cried because the stretch zone isn’t necessarily a fun place to be in and growth is a painful process. I cried because both our people are nomads nobody wanted around, and instead of embracing each other we duplicate and mirror the exclusion.
I cried because we fail to break the magic cycle of victim/aggressor, celebrating the panic zone or rushing back to the comfort zone at any cost. The Israeli public opinion is too edgy to be stretched these past few years; it looks away and pretends it didn’t notice the price paid for restoring comfort zone ASAP.
I cried because I am constantly attempting to ground myself within a vortex, when half of my community consists of dark souls, disgusting racist morons, and the other half consists of amazing, sensitive and creative people who bring so much light and knowledge to the universe, who can turn swamps into a heaven with a research institute beside it. And all and all, that’s all I got, that’s my home-table. I cried because the things I’m ashamed of and angry about in my country equal the things I’m in love with and proud of, and even if I resent my family I still love it and depend on it for my safety, like a tree can’t deny its roots.
On that culture night, the Palestinian blogger brought bracelets as give-aways with Palestine’s flag colors. I took one home because I feel uncomfortable to look at it, but every time I look at it I’m stretching out a bit, experiencing that little sting of real encounter with Otherness and the threat to the ego that comes with a competing frame for my reality.
And by looking at it I’m reminding myself that being strong isn’t about arrogance or defensive attack. It’s about taking deep breaths, feeling and containing the anger and anxiety and taking baby steps towards feeling more comfortable with that.
* I find this title ironic since Luxembourg is peaceful to the point it puts you to sleep.
I'm sorry i haven't been updating for a long time. I changed hosting and joined my Hebrew blog here, and it's been hectic in general. will be back to writing soon. meanwhile you can follow me on twitter @carmelva
