Blowing in the Wind

“What are your plans for today?” 

“Not sure. We'll just let the wind blow us where we are supposed to go!”

Manutiser, our checkpoint friend

Mary Ellen and I must have this conversation with the locals at least once or twice a day. In a place that is so fraught with tension and political vulnerability, I think most people are surprised that we are not anxious to control what we are doing and who we are seeing. And, of course, most travellers pack their schedules from early morning to late at night in order to squeeze in every bit of touring they can.

Not so with us. We came here to relax and renew. We find the easier, slower pace inviting and it gives us a chance to experience the people and culture in a whole different way. As each day unfolds, we are amazed at the people we have met and the experiences we have had. I wouldn’t trade our "blowing in the wind" for anything.

Take yesterday as an example. We started the morning with an invite to breakfast at the home of Khlil Nshash, the checkpoint coffee guy. As we were parking the car, we ran into Manutiser, one of the Palestinian kids who sells stuff at the checkpoint. Earlier in the week, as we waited to cross into Israel, he had teased Mary Ellen about being from China even though we told him she was from Japan and the Philippines. I’m not sure why he thought this was so amusing but we laughed along with him. Recognizing us from our earlier checkpoint conversation, he asked us where we were going and before we knew it, he had walked us to Khlil’s front door. When Khlil didn’t immediately answer, he dispatched one of his friends to climb the wall to wake up the family.

Khlil and his children

It was Friday morning, the only day that Khlil sleeps in from his usual pattern of waking at 4 am to prepare coffee to sell. His days are long as he usually returns home well after 9 pm every night. Bleary-eyed, he warmly welcomed us into his home. Soon we were surrounded by his three children, his new wife, and received warm greetings from his sister and his parents.

Khlil and his family live in Azzeh Camp, the smallest of the refugee camps in Bethlehem. Like Aida Camp, it is right next to the Wall. Unlike Aida, this small wedge of humanity (less than 1,800 residents) is as close as one can get to the weekly Palestinian protests that take place right next to the Wall. That means marching, chanting, and rock throwing by the Palestinians and tear gas, arrests, and often live fire on the crowd in response by the Israelis. But Khlil is as resilient as anyone I know. Every time I see him, he tells me how happy he is and how grateful he is to Allah for his life and his family.

Khili's middle daughter

As we lingered over the first course of slightly sweetened Arabic coffee, Khlil caught us up on the latest news in his life. He showed us around his ever expanding real estate holdings. It seems that if you save all your shekels and live very simply, you can purchase one apartment after another in the camp. He now owns four. Granted, prices are way down (a few thousand dollars for a 3 bedroom apartment) due to the proximity to the checkpoint, but this has enabled his extended family to live next to him. And now with this fourth apartment, he can experience a bit of income stability from the very, low rent he will collect. 

arabic breakfast

Over the second course of hummus, labne, cucumbers, tomato, olives, zatar, olive oil and pita, we were treated to a spontaneous sermon about love. Khlil sees all people, regardless of their religion or race, as one people under God. He wanted to be sure that we understood that the recent attacks in Paris or Beirut or Egypt or any other terrorist act perpetuated by ISIS were not part of Islam as he knows and practices it. He was adamant and passionate. For him, Jewish, Christian and Muslim people are all human beings and therefore must be treated with respect and love. It was not lost on us that this belief was tested each and everyday as he confronts the injustices perpetuated by the Occupation. Just last year, a military dog viciously attacked him when the Israeli Defense Forces mistakenly invaded his home in the middle of the night. But he holds no ill will. His faith calls him to gratitude and love.

The next course was the tea course.  We shared photos of our kids and bits of our life back in the States. He was delighted to learn that I was going to be a grandma. He remembered my daughters when they visited Bethlehem three years ago. We soon excused ourselves only to see the disappointment on his face when it became apparent that we weren’t staying for lunch as well.

Mary Ellen eating knafeh, a unique Palestinian treat!

It was as remarkable morning to what turned out to be a remarkable day. At every turn, we received the best of Palestinian hospitality. A spontaneous invite to a wonderful lunch and lingering conversation at Issa Gharib's home (one of our tour operators) meant enjoying delicious maqlubah with his extended family. Later in the evening and hankering for sweets, we then jumped in the car in pursuit of Fawaniss, a restaurant that we had heard boasts the best knafeh in Bethlehem. Bustling and crowded on this weekend night, a lovely Palestinian women and her 13 year old daughter invited us to join them at their table. Yet another surprising encounter and conversation. All that before we ended the day with coffee in a small gift shop overlooking the huge Christmas Tree in Manger Square with my friend Adnan.  

I like blowing in the wind when I’m here. No agenda, no expectations. Just an openness to enjoy what unfolds.