Purple Frog
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Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in the "a mimsy borogove" journal:[<< Previous 20 entries]
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12:27 am
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Shopping: Chill edition
A super chill and relaxed day! And apologies for my recent horrible apostrophe habits. I should proofread better if I'm going to write publicly after such exhausting days.
Summary
First class started: 8:30 AM
Left last class: 4:00 PM
Total classes shopped: 7
Approx hours in class: 5.5
( show me the money! )
So where do we stand?
From the past two days, here are classes which are in the running, by topic:
Arabic
Very likely: AB 70 (4th year)
In the running: AB 50 (3rd year), CO 71 (Classical Prose)
History/Social Science
Very Likely: HI 179 (NA Env. History)
Possible: PS 143 (Roots of Political Islam)
Arts / Fun
Very Likely: MU 30 (Sondheim And)
Literature:
Likely: CO 142 (The South)
And that's already a potentially full course load, with relatively few choices to make! (Now's the time to start lobbying, BTW).
Just in case, these are courses I might still shop for the first time tomorrow:
ED 126 (Emotion, Cognition, Education)
CO 272 (Theory & Practice of Literary Translation)
CS 17 (Integrated Intro to CS)
ED 101 (Craft of Teaching)
US 187 (Green Cities: Parks & Designed Landscapes in Urban America)
Good night!
Current Music: belle & sebastian
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01:58 am
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Shopping: Wednesday-Friday-Monday
My MWF shopping schedule is calmer than I've ever had before — not only is this list short, but there are several on the list that I'm not actually planning to take but shopping for kicks. Hooray for easy(ier) days. But... if you're shopping something excellent that I've missed, let me know.
AB Hour (8:30-9:50 AM)
BC 107: Burden of Disease in Developing Countries (McGarvey)
B Hour (9-9:50 AM)
CO 81-5: Imagining Other, Constructing Self (Pougouris)
C Hour (10-10:50 AM)
EL 20-2: Word on the Street: The City in Postcolonial Literature (Gui)
HI 179: North American Environmental History
D Hour (11-11:50 AM)
AC 161-7: American Popular Culture
E Hour (12-12:50 PM)
AB 50: Third Year Arabic (Souleimani)
CO 142: The 1001 Nights (Colla)
RS 9: Sacred Stories (Harvey)
F Hour (1-1:50 PM)
Nothing!
G Hour (2-2:50 PM)
AB 70: Fourth Year Arabic (Christoff)
CO 71: Classical Arabic Prose (Colla)
N Hour (3-5:20 PM Wednesday)
ES 70: New England Environmental History (Stein)
HI 197-49: Memoirs & Memory: Individual Experience of Modern Jewish Life (Mandel)
HI 197-39: Identity Conflicts in Middle East History 1900-Present (Akarli)
O Hour (3-5:20 PM Friday)
ARRR!!!
M Hour (3-5:20 PM Monday)
HI 197-23: The Urban Crisis and American Political Culture, 1932-1984 (Self)
...and that's all, folks!
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09:08 pm
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Fall 2006 Shopping -- Day 1 Report
Day one of shopping is complete!
Summary
First class started: 9:00 AM
Last class ended: 9:00 PM
Total classes shopped: 11
Hours spent in class: about 8.5
( all the juicy details )
Ad Kan Yom 1
And so it goes. Todays winners seem to be Sondheim, Political Islam, The South and 4th year Arabic, which is a remarkably (and wonderfully) short list considering all my running around.
Comments?
Tomorrow's schedule to follow as soon as I prepare it.
Current Music: Minguelay
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09:59 pm
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Fall 2006 Shopping List, Tuesday/Thursday Edition
I'm excited for this last semester! Here's the shopping list for tomorrow. Feel free to comment, especially with your experiences with these courses/profs.
And... let the learning continue!
~ Benj
H hour (9-10:20 AM)
AN 102: AIDS in International Perspective (Symonds)
AN 100: Circumpolar Ethnography (Anderson)
ED 126: Emotion, Cognition, Education (Demick)
*EN 193-10: Social Entrepeneurship (Bull)
*MU 30: Sondheim And (Subotnick)
I hour (10:30-11:50 AM)
EL 171: Harlem Renaissance (Denniston)
SP 150-2: Images of the City: Barcelona through Literature & Art (Bou)
Lunch hour (12-12:50 PM)
AB 50: Third Year Arabic (Soulaimani)
J hour (1-2:20 PM)
AC 161: British and American Nature Poetry (Armand)
*CG 105: Music and Mind (Heller)
*CO 142: The South: Literature of the US South & South America (Merrim)
EL 171: Faukner (Weinstein)
EL 191: Dreamworlds: Utopias from Plato to the Present (Feerick)
*PS 143: Roots of Political Islam (Luong)
K hour (2:30-3:50 PM)
AB 70: Fourth Year Arabic (Christoff)
CO 272: Theory & Practice of Literary Translation (Haynes)
CS 17: Integrated Introduction to Comp Sci in Scheme and ML (Klein)
EL 171: African American Women Novelists (Denniston)
RS 88-32: Islam & Modernity (Gheissari)
P hour (4-6:20 PM Tues)
ED 164: Public Schools and Politics (Starr)
HI 197-75: Colonialism, Culture & Conflict in Modern Ireland (Meloy)
Q hour (4-6:30 PM Thurs)
ED 101: The Craft of Teaching (Johnson)
RS 188-40: Christianizing the Roman Empire (Frankfurter)
US 187: Green Cities: Parks and Designed Landscapes in Urban America (Malone)
Current Location: Back in Prov
Current Music: Uncle John's Band (The Grateful Dead)
Tags: class
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06:48 pm
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the good news and the less good news
Brown University decided to divest from companies whose business supports genocide in Sudan over the weekend, which is excellent. The full report is available on the Brown homepage and a longer news bulletin.
Unfortunately, in their eagerness to share the good news, the University posted this map on the website:
 For those who need a pointer, Kenya appears twice, once in its own place and once as Ethiopia in disguise (As of 3/26 7PM EST, the map is still visible here). Makes you feel all warm and fuzzy about our knowledge and concern for Africa, eh? Alternatively, maybe this is subtlely articulating an official postmodern ideology that nationalism is outdated and nation-states are pretty amorpheous, anyway. Or maybe Kenya conquered Ethiopia and I just haven't read the news today.
In any case, the university VP for Communications emailed me back:
Benj,
Thanks for bringing this to our attention. Ken will make the fix.
Mike
And now the website shows this map:
But you can still tell that they made a correction! More importantly, Brown has divested, one move among many more which are needed, which I hope will make a change there.
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10:07 am
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goal #14532: do fewer things at once
Upcoming dates, part one:
Feb 17-19, 2006
- Naomi & Miron's wedding.
- Jews in the Woods (Not gonna win this time)
- Flogging Molly in Boston!
- Last weekend before... but those are hard to predict and don't always happen on schedule.
Aug 18-20, 2006
- Megan & Charley's wedding.
- Pa Hans' (my grandfather) 90th birthday celebration.
- Philly Folk Fest (another one which isn't gonna win this year)
so much for that goal.
Current Mood: movin' right along
Current Music: muppets
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07:58 pm
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Speaking of misplaced priorities:
David H. Brooks, CEO of DHB (who make bullet-proof vests for the US army), spends $10 million to bring celebrities to his daughter's bat mitzvah party:
On the day the President told the American people to prepare for the long haul in Iraq, here’s a story that seems to perfectly sum up our priorities as a nation. They’re calling it Mitzvahpalooza. It may go down in history as the world’s most obscene birthday party (eat your heart out Dennis Kozlowski). David H. Brooks, CEO of bulletproof vest maker DHB Industries, spared no expense for his 13-year old daughter’s entry into adulthood. The girl and 300 of her closest BFFs were entertained recently in New York’s Rainbow Room by Don Henley, Stevie Nicks, Kenny G, Aerosmith and, believe it or not, 50 Cent (I guess 500 large can make you forget all about street cred). It was hosted by Tom Petty. The reported cost: $10 million. See the pics here.
First off, what 13-year old is a fan of Don Henley, Fleetwood Mac and, for God’s sake, Kenny G? Who was this party really for? Second, and more importantly, where does a guy get $10 million to blow on a Bat Mitzvah? Well, it appears, from you, the American taxpayer. According to United for a Fair Economy, Brooks and Co. have made a tidy profit outfitting our nation’s fighting men and women in body armor that allegedly couldn’t take a hit from a 9mm round:
I think it's high time that the US Jewish Community take a clear and outspoken position against such gross spending.
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07:59 am
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radio silence
Hello all,
It's been a long, long time since I've written, and I've heard from some folks asking why. The main reason is that school is incredibly overwhelming and I don't have much time. In addition, I'm most interested in continuing to write to you about Israel-Palestine, but from this side of the ocean I'm confined to a more analytical role -- a role very different from the reacting I was doing over the summer.
A solution to this quandary has presented itself in the form of my comp lit. class on Palestinian Literature, providing me with lots of new material to respond to. With that in mind, I plan to post some of my writing for that course here. Please let me know what you think -- does this work? Would you rather read other material, or none at all?
~b.
The following essay is in response to Ghassan Kanafani's Returning to Haifa, written in Arabic in 1969. I read the translation by Barbara Harlow and Karen E. Riley in Palestine's Children (Colorado: Lynne Reiner Publishers, 2000), their collection of short fiction by Kanafani.
Most of the footnotes are added here, and weren't part of the original essay.
( it's hiding! )
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05:25 pm
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Shopping: Day 2
My shopping journal continues. By some inexplicable (miracle?), there weren't nearly as many classes I was interested in shopping today. Not really sure why, but I won't complain...
classes on the list: 5
classes visited: 4
( morning classes )
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02:34 pm
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Shopping: Day 1
One of the great opportunities Brown offers is a shopping period when classes start. Having no core requirements for graduation and leaving the registration deadline two weeks into school, we're given a chance to visit and test many courses so that we may create our educations in an informed way. Even so, most Brown students shop minimally: many select their course load in advance, and those who do shop usually select three classes in advance and shop a few for their final slot. In contrast, in a typical semester I shop 20-40 courses, and this year will be no exception. Mostly to help me process my decisions and partly to document my process, I thought I'd keep a "shopping journal" until I've settled my course schedule for the semester. Of course, you're comments/advice about my choices or process are more than welcome.
So, day 1: Tuesday, 9/2/2005.
Classes on today's shopping list: 15
Classes visited: 8
(you can find descriptions for any of these courses at boca.brown.edu)
( morning classes )
( lunch break: convocation )
( afternoon classes )
( end of the day: katrina vigil )
And so I went home for dinner, then visited with RS a bit. I thought I'd plan another day's shopping but was far too exhausted and went to sleep before midnight!
end of day summary:
YES: AN 115
LIKELY: SO 103
POSSIBLE: ED 147, MU 40
UNLIKELY: SI 10
NO: PY 133, HI 112, EC 160
MISSED/CANCELLED: AC 161.5, HI 190, TA 31, HI 135, HI 154, PY 174, ED 157
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11:26 pm
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Dedication
(30.7.2005)
As if by silent contract, the mosquitos woke me up just as the sky begins to brighten in anticipation of the sun's arrival. While black slowly fades to blue above me, I sat overlooking the hills below. It's beautiful, this rocky slope dotted with houses. Yet each moment reveals more that I worry about: Closest to me appear the collapsed ruins of homes where children used to play, now mangled heaps of concrete and steal. A few minutes later I can trace the future path of the Separation Wall which will surround and cut off this community. I finally, the settlement of Ma'ale Adumim shows its face on the horizon. Can there be hope?
Yes. Because today is our victory, our small shout of not giving up. Today and over the past two weeks we joined together across lines which aren't "supposed" to cooperate -- Jews, Muslims and Christians; Palestinians, Israelis & internationals, to make shelter and build peace. Today we dedicated the Hamdan's new home.
After our typically delicious breakfast of Arabiya's home-made labene, hummus and salad with pita and felafel (yes, for breakfast, and scrumptious) and an impromptu conversation about diversifying the US Jewish community (both ritually/religiously and politically), I descended the long hill to our building site, all the while watching our house at the bottom, this bulky white home which has materialized over two weeks. We have a few final jobs this morning: spreading gravel and sand to level the yard, scrubbing the interior floors, painting the bars across the windows and chipping apart the pit where we've been mixing mortar and concrete by hand daily for two weeks. This last one was the hardest by far: as we mixed dozens of batches of mortar the cinderblock walls thickened to nearly half a meter. Armed with only two hoes, we took turns chipping away at this seemingly impossible task. It felt symbolic of the wider challenge that we and the world all face now. With the challenge, however, comes hope: Just as we eventually broke apart this pit despite being totally underequipped, so can we break down the obstacles to peace, justice and safety which we all now face.
After returning to Beit Arabiya for lunch, I headed down the hill one last time. This time I remembered and visualized my very first walk down this hill two and a half weeks earlier, when the Hamdan's home was just a huge pile of rubble, steel slabs and rebar. Now it's a house, ready to be lived in. With these small steps, we can change the world.
Hafla Kbiira -- A big celebration! Volunteers joined by Israelis, sitting with local Palestinian leaders and community members too. At once a block party and retrospective, as nearly everyone who's worked on the house, even for just one day, shows up. The speeches are all short, excited and optimistic. I guess they sound a lot like this journal entry itself. Most importantly, one more family has a home and in shah allah, im yirtze hashem they may live there as long as they wish to. Six more children may grow up in dignity rather than homeless and angry. After neighborhood youth performed a number of dances, we finished by planting three olive trees beside the house. They're still much too small to bear fruit. Please, please let them grow through many harvests.
Back at Beit Arabiya spirits were high, as well they should be. In two short weeks (which felt very long at the time) we've transformed a world and changed a landscape.
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07:52 pm
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Where's Benj been?
This space has been remarkably silent over the past three weeks since my return over the atlantic pond. These weeks have been exhausting and full -- so full in fact, that I feel more physically worn out than I can ever recall feeling ever before. (No, I'm not sick, and I'm pretty sure of that. Just worn into the ground, but thanks for the concern.) I thought I'd break the ice by running through what I've been up to and giving you an idea of what's in store to look forward to.
As my most recent post suggests, we finished building and dedicated the Hamdan home. The dedication ceremony was powerful, as was the mere fact of seeing a house on the ground where two weeks earlier I'd been climbing on a pile of rubble. On the plane ride home I wrote two journal entries -- one about the dedication and one about the summer and my reflections more generally -- which I'm hoping will find their way here soon. It was important to me that I do some serious processing before rushing into the crazy schedule I've had since then, but with the non-stop rushing around, I haven't had a chance to revisit them and type them up.
My mom picked me up at JFK and after brief stops in Providence and Newton we continued to Rindge, NH for the Havurah Institute. Lots to say about that too, and some thoughts from it will also find there way here soon, too. In the meantime, a highlight.
On blessings and awareness.
Last winter at the end of the north-east retreat, David R. sat me down and remarked about my committment to social justice, which he noticed permeating much of what I do and wanted to thank me for. Rather than being appreciative of his comment, I was embarrassed: as I reviewed my life, my choices, my priorities; classes, extra-curriculars, summer plans, I didn't see that committment he talked about at all. I say a lot of talking, and not a lot of doing. A lot of living through my friends work. And his comment started the process which resulted in my spending this summer as I did, and in some other changes I'm hoping to carry through the next few years. At the Havurah Institute, I reminded David of his comment and thanked him for the process he'd started in me, forcing me to rise to the expectation he set out for me. David pointed out that this is exactly how a blessing can function: calling attention to an aspect of our lives or the world around us, allowing us to reconsider it and change the way we relate to it. Thank you.
I'm hoping to teach a course at next year's institute comparing prayer in Islam and Judaism as a case study of the religious legal systems in each religion. I have a few months to put the course together before the deadline :)
NHC and my community there were an essential step in my transition home from Israel to the USA and helped me avert the usually-inevitable culture shock. Once home, however, I still had a lot to process and think about. So, in excellent form I escaped into the newest Harry Potter book, and continued to re-read Lloyd Alexander's Chronicles of Prydain. I fall into this fantasy rut about once a year, but it was particularly bad this year. Coming off such a challenging summer, one in which I was surrounded by pain, suffering and injustice, but where there are no easy or simple targets or guilty parties, it's refreshing to read books in which good and evil and clearly demarcated. No ambiguity here. No trying to figure out how everyone's best intentions end up hurting everyone really badly. (Meanwhile, my brother sat across the room watching House of Sand and Fog...)
And then it was off to the wilds outside Atlanta Georgia, where I've spent the past week at a leadership conference for Hillel. Again, I have a lot to process and think about. It was an extremely rewarding conference, and gave me a chance to hang out with my sister Stevie who works for Hillel. While I met many new folks I hadn't known before and also had a chance to think lots about the questions which face me and which face the jewish community today, the most important take-away was renewed excitement in my role as president of brown hillel this coming year. I'd been increasingly un-enthusiastic as the summer went on, mostly because I couldn't devote energy to thinking about Hillel with everything else I had going on. Now, however, I'm refreshed, rejuvenated, and ready to go. Here I come! Once again, look forward to more about some of the questions I've been thinking about and my thoughts on them. It would be negligent not to mention the Gaza pull-out/disengagement which has been going on this week. It's also negligent to mention it in passing. Unfortunately, that's what I'm doing for the time being. Yes, I'm thinking about it.
Tonight I'm in Atlanta staying with a friend after spending the afternoon visiting with friends who've graduated from Brown. Tomorrow I return to Providence to put more closure on the summer and begin forming my excitement into action. And also making sure to take time to sleep and do school work. . . speaking of which, there have been plenty of thoughts on the future.
Some closing thoughts:
Before this summer started, this was a friends-only journal. I opened it up at the beginning of the summer as a way to share some of my experiences and reflections from this summer. My plan had long been to close it again as that project ended, although with a little urging from BZ and more urging from Neil I've decided to keep the blog open for a while. I'm not sure how this will develop -- I'm returning to the less fascinating life of a university student, after all. I think my aim is to keep having mostly-private updates on my life while using public entries to write about questions I'm thinking about and texts I'm reading. I welcome your feedback.
Also, as the ICAHD chapter of this journal and my life come to a close (after the final two entries which should be coming any day now), I'd appreciate hearing from folks who've been reading. This is a pretty one-directional medium most of the time and frankly I have no idea who's out there.
Thanks.
~b
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05:37 am
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Almost there!
Opening ceremony of Hamdan family home
Saturday July 30rd, 2005
4:30pm
Anata, Jerusalem
On Saturday July 30rd 2005, the Israeli Committee Against House Demolitions' summer work camp will close in a festive ceremony celebrating the conclusion of the rebuilding of the Hamdan family home, demolished in June last year.
The ceremony will include:
· Speeches by Israeli, Palestinian and international participants of the camp
· Opening ceremony
· Planting of trees
Background on work camp:
During the last two weeks, Israeli, Palestinian and international volunteers from around the world, have rebuilt the Hamdan family home after its demolition in June last year. The work camp was organized by the Israeli Committee Against House Demolitions in protest of Israeli policies in the Occupied Territories, the inability of Palestinians to obtain building permits which brings about the demolition of their homes.
Background on Hamdan Family:
Arafat and Fateh have five children and a sixth on the way. The last year has been a difficult one: the family is in serious debt and, without a house of their own, the entire family now lives together in one room in Arafat's parent's house. Before the demolition, the children had plenty of room to play and grow; but with seven people in one room, there is little space to sleep, let alone have a normal childhood. Homeless, unemployed, and still traumatized from the demolition, the family has become embittered and depressed.
For more information or to participate, contact:
Salim Shawamreh 0522946531
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حفل تدشين بيت عائلة حمدان
يوم السبت الموافق 30 يوليو 2005 في تمام الساعة الخامسة والنصف مساءاً
تتشرف الحركة الاسرائيلية ضد هدم البيوت بدعوتكم لحضورحفل اختتام مخيم العمل الصيفي الثالث والذي تم خلاله اعادة بناء بيت عائلة السيد عرفات حمدان والذي هدم على يد قوات الاحتلال الاسرائيلية في يونيو\تموز من العام 2004.
يتخلل برنامج الحفل :
* كلمات لمشاركين في المخيم.
* مراسيم تدشين البيت.
* غرس مجموعة من اشجار الزيتون.
لمحة عن مخيم العمل الصيفي:
على مدار الاسبوعيين الماضيين قامت مجموعات من المتطوعين الفلسطينيين, الاسرائليين والاجانب من اوروبا والولايات المتحدة بالعمل كتفاً الى كتف على اعادة اعمار بيت عائلة حمدان الذي تم هدمه في يونيو\تموز 2004 . هذا وقد قامت الحركة الاسرائيليه ضد هدم البيوت بتنظيم هذا البرنامج ضد سياسة اسرائيل التعسفية والقمعية داخل الاراضي المحتله والقدس.
للاستفسار :
سليم شوامرة - المركز الفلسطيني للمشروع 0522946531
يسرنا حضوركم ومشاركتكم
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and I don't have a hebrew copy on hand.
SO EXCITING!
and check out this article about us. Yes, it's disappointing that despite numerous press releases and direct phone calls we have almost no press coverage.
Shabbat Shalom
Current Music: jazz
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09:24 pm
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Twists on
[prayer]
Blessed are You, God, Ruler of the Universe. . .
. . .Who gives the rooster knowledge to discern between day and night.
On the brighter side: The muezzin begin the call to morning prayers just before sunrise. Sounds and voices from many mosques blend over the hillside.
On the less bright side: jackhammers from the construction site across the valley start just a little bit later. The interrogation" facility is expanding onto another hill, although no one is quite clear what will go there.
. . .Who made me free.
. . .Who made me one of Israel.
I've gotten used to the ritual of the checkpoint, the daily exodus from the West Bank into Jerusalem. It feels like a ritual in that we go through these motions, the soldiers and I, and its all a big game. We know the outcome from the beginning, but still they look at my passport, harass me, let me go. Usually I'm with a group of participants, and I'm the responsibile counselor (hah!). Today's exchange:
"Who are you guys?"
"A bunch of tourists. We were looking around, seeing the sites a bit."
"What, it's not boring in there? Don't you want to go someplace exciting?"
"Oh it's nice enough. I know a family, we joined them for lunch and tea. Talked a bit."
:: look of disbelief ::
All in all, not that bad. Not like last week when the soldiers, who happened to be Druze, tried to keep two of my participants (one from NYC and one from the UK) from crossing into Jerusalem. I hadn't anticipated standing in a small trailor by myself with three soldiers, shouting at them that they're being rediculous. They really were. (No, this isn't as stupid a behavior as it sounds. Really.) Finally they bend. Come on, we were just playing with you! Yeah. Big joke.
For the most part I am free to cross where I shall. And that little beanie cap on my head helps we with that. There are others who should be, but aren't.
. . .Who gives sight to the blind.
My eyes burned for nearly an hour today after I sweated sunscreen into them this morning. I guess I was just too zealous about avoiding burns on my skin. Sitting at the side of the building site after flushing my eyes out with water, unable to open my eyes at all. . .It helps you appreciate what you have.
. . .Who frees the imprisoned.
Today, great news! Eyal calls me at lunchtime: "Benj, I'm free!" "Free, like forever? or just for another few weeks?" "Free as in FREE! I'm done! I'm out!" Even before his induction into the Israeli Army this past late February, Eyal wrote a letter explaining that he'd refuse to serve. Since then, he's served over 66 days in military prison over 3 different sentences for his decision. After his most recent release he was granted permission to visit with an army psycologist. At today's re-sentencing session, he was able to convince the officers that he'd never serve the entire time (and some other technicalities, etc.), and they decided to release him for good. He's now finished his army service and ready to go on with his life.e
. . .Who has provided for my every need.
Isn't it crazy? Here I am, halfway across the world, playing for the summer. OK, working really hard and not sleeping enough. But playing! Not worrying about making enough money or weather I can afford to rent an apartment here with friends. Many of the kids I play with daily will never leave Palestine in their lives because of cost and other people-created obstacles (which we can keep trying to reduce).
. . .Who crowns Israel in Glory.
May we all be able to work together to wipe some of the tarnish off the crown and live up to our potential.
. . .Who gives strength to the weary.
I could use some of that strength right now.
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09:03 pm
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beit arabiya
A cool, crisp night in Anata, if slightly humid.
In fact, there are clouds, which is odd.
And strangely, it's the first time I'm spending a night here, a whole week+ into our training camp.
[[BTW, no internet here. I'm writing it now and will post later on]]
Returning from our tour of Ramle, I sat on the sloping lawn with Ahmad, Salim, and his adorable 4-year-old son Anas. Anas is unbelievably cute, but for the longest time wasn't sure what to do with this strange hairy man who speaks Arabic like a bumpling fool. Last tuesday, though, we had to set up projection and sound equipment to show a film. Standing down in Beit Arabiya, I called to Anas, "come here, I need your help," then gave him two tiny sound cables and told him it was important that he carried them up to the main patio. He leapt at the opportunity, then rushed back for more, until finally he tried to heft the stereo, as big as he is, all by himself. From then on he opened up to me a bit.
The fact is I feel sorry for him. Here he is, the youngest of seven wonderful children and starving for attention. But there's too much going on for him to get it, so he acts like a pain, albeit a very moderate one by my USA standards, and so gets yelled at. And more. So it's something that's difficult for me to keep in balance: while I think the policies of the Israeli government are inexcusable here, and I love being here as a visitor to this culture, I must remember that there are aspects of it I wouldn't be sad to see go. Foremost among these are the isolated place of women and corporal punishment. (Yet sometimes I wonder, am I a cultural chauvenist to say so? no.) The lack of concern with material waste (we go through SO MANY plastic cups) is another.
Actually, the kids have been spectacular all around, and most seem to think I'm pretty neat. Also, most seem pretty neutral about my open Judaism, although there have been some interesting run-ins. Just tonight one of the eldest sons sat down by me and asked why Jewish prayers are so rediculous and long, and how we can possibly really tolk to God if we're holding those books and so closed up in ourselves. So began a long conversation which, in shah Allah, will continue into the future.
Two days ago at the building site, I was sitting down for a tea break with one of the kids I'd been getting along with quite well when I took off my hat. He backed away suspiciously, looked at me askance, and said "you're wearing a kippah!" (Actually, he said jizjiz, the Arabic term. I can't tell yet whether or not it's derogatory.) Then next few minutes were very awkward and forced, and he proceded to suggest that I should get back to my home in Jerusalem or America or whereever but what was I doing there? (and implicitly, that it couldn't be a good thing). However, we got over it. By the time I returned to Beit Arabiya for dinner, he and his younger brother had invited me to his house for after-dinner visiting along with Joe and FMK who were along for the day. After dinner we headed over and were welcomed by the 3 sons and 3 daughters, who brought us to the salon and seated us, then sat silently and with good posture while we visited with their mother. Intermittently they'd get up and serve drinks or bisquits, then sit again. And when the 7th sister started crying, her 5-year-old sister picked her up and carried her from the room lest her mother be distracted. Really really incredible and so abnormal by USA standards. We had a really wonderful visit all around, including some hilarious moments: after my phone rang, I asked the mother, "How do I say 'to talk on the phone'?" I was looking for the verb (batsil) but didn't get my point across clearly, so she answered, "Hello, how are you? In person you'd say "Hi, my name is Benj, a pleasure to meet you, but over the phone, "How are you" is fine." Mrs. related that most of the women here have never learned to read or write in Arabic, and few know any Hebrew. Would we be willing to help them learn some? They'd like very much to learn. Alas, this may have to be a project for the future. As our visit extended farther and farther past the children's bedtime, they degenerated. First they brought out all their magazines and made us read them all of the English they could find, usually on cigarette ads. Then I made the mistake (?) of showing I could read Arabic, so they brought out their homework assignments from school and made me read them, correcting me with every mistake. It was really cool to see the papers, actually. Very much like my elementary school assignments. But in Arabic. So strange. Soon they displayed their own English skills (classes start in grade 1): "Hadda [this is] cup. w'fi il-cup, juice. w'hadda bisquit." Impressive!
Tonight, once Anas collapsed, I slowly and painstakingly told Ahmad of learning Arabic through the trials and travails of one poor Egyptian girl names Maha, trapping in NYC with no friends and bad weather. He found my school's curriculum amusing, to say the least. Then I hopped around to the other side of the house where the women were having girl's time. We were looking at wedding pictures from the eldest daugher's wedding a year ago today (with such a huge family, there were bajillions of posed shots. Asked who was in the picture, the other sisters would say "I dunno, some family member or another). We got to talking about weddings; I shared that two of my sisters (Aviva and Stevie) had married each of the previous years. When was I getting married? But I don't even have a girlfriend! They all snickered. Everyone here seems to think it a big shame or utterly unbelievably that I'm not married. They also think I'm rather older than I am. I guess that comes with being a project/camp manager.
And so, life continues to be wondrous.
The tour of Ramle was excellent. In addition to discussing attempts to create intentionally integrated Jewish-Palestinian communities, we learned more about how 93% of land in Israel (pre-67 borders) continues to be designated for use by Jews-only. Any land owned by the JNF may not be given for use to non-Jews. Even since the Basic Human Dignity Law was passed in 1992 forbidding institutionalized governmental segregation (which had been more or less allowed up until that point), the limited access continues. In order to be granted a parcel of land, a group must sign a contract with the Land Administration. While that contract has no direct clauses about religion or ethnicity, you have to provide a contract from the Jewish Agency and sometimes the Cooperative Landowners Associations before finishing the deal with the Land Administration, and these later non-governmental organizations do have various Jews-only clauses.
Furthermore, the Land Administration in general only leases land, rather than selling it, a technicality ensuring that land remains property of the government. Here's the catch: Jews are granted leases in multiples of 49 years, and these leases are inheritable. In contrast, non-Jews may only be granted 3-year leases which are non-inheritable and which can only be renewed with a short period of nonoccupancy. As a result, certain occupancy rights which only kick in after 3 years of residence are never extended to non-Jews.
Thus Israel is legally segregated, and severely so, although the segregation doesn't extend too far beyond land ownership rights. However, discrimination sneaks in by other means.
The mosquitos bite. I sleep.
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07:50 am
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Sulha
On Wednesday I took the day off from ICAHD and went to the Sulha peace festival. Five years ago, Sulha started in the North as a huge celebration hosted by a family in the family's olive orchards. It has since grown considerably and now meets in public parks. While this year I don't think there were many more than 1000 participants, there were apparently nearly 5000 last year. I first heard about Sulha a couple years ago, and have heard a steady stream of mixed opinions since then. On the one hand, I was told, Sulha was an unbelievable display of Israelis, Palestinians, Jews, Muslims and Christians all committed to peace and committed to making it happen. From the other side, it was a bunch of feel-good hippies living in their own world oblivious to the realities of the world they live in. Given my particular interest in both the religious/cultural and political dimensions of life in Israel-Palestine, I was glad to finally have the chance to go check
it out for myself.
Travelling to Sulha with the H-B family, a Canadian/US-ian/Israeli family who have in some ways adopted me here was a plus. Crowded into a car with 3 of the five siblings and parents reminded me of going on similar trips with my own family. After only one missed turn we arrived at the Baptist Village, the Eucalyptus forest where this year's three-day interfaith gathering was held. As I stepped from the car onto the dusty, hot parking lot, I took off my shoes -- I had a feeling I wouldn't be needing them. And I wasn't the only barefoot participant, either. After letting the omnipresent security check my backpack, I walked through the gate and into a long passageway made of really awesome stretchy white fabric bent around unfinished wood. Each wall was lined with photos from 12 cities, all taken by local Jewish and Arab Israeli youth in a visual autobiography project. Very cool.
The first people I passed looked like your typical Philadelphia Folk Festival participants -- flowy cloths, tank tops, scarves for belts and hair -- I found that Jewish and non-Jewish participants could often be distinguished by dress, with the Jewish folks like these people I saw first and Palestinian participants more conservatively dressed. A lot of the Israelis my age who I'd talk to were as flightly as many of the PFF people I know, too: "What are you up to in your life these days?" "Oh you know, this and that. Here and there. You know..."
From a hilltop in the center of the site I surveyed the festival grounds. Tents made of that same white fabric dotted the hillside -- a Peace Children Area, the House of Prayer, Women's Tent, Bereaved Parents' Circle/Families Forum tent, and so on. Down towards the creek was a big stage for the evening concerts, and just past it the entrance to the camping area for those sleeping out overnight. The entire site was labeled with colorful yet clear tri-lingual signs which would make my dad, a veteran sign-painter for the Clearwater Revival, proud.
On my way back from the washroom I stopped by the tent for the Bereaved Parent's Circle/Families Forum, the only organization which had an official presence at Sulha, most likely (I guess) because it, too, strives to be apolitical. At the tent I met a variety of Jews and Palestinians who had lost family members in the conflict, but have realized that violence and revenge won't resurrect the dead and have opted instead to seek peace. After just a few minutes chatting, however, a more formal "listening circle" started. Unfortunately for me, I was sitting in a quiet, shady place with nowhere to rush to or anything to worry about for the first time in ages. After depriving myself of sleep for most of the week, I drifted off immediately.
Drifting in and out, I spotted some friends across the hill -- we hadn't made any plans together, but this was a place where you knew you'd run into each other. Together we headed over to the kitchen tent in the camping area. Those of you who know me well know that I gravitate towards anywhere food is being made. I hadn't signed up to volunteer at all, but at this easy-going gathering, that didn't matter. Soon I found myself sitting on the ground with three Jordanian women peeling potatoes and chatting. From there I continued to washing and ripping romaine lettuce under the watchful eye of an eight-year-old Jewish Israeli girl whose attentiveness to rotten lettuce could best even that of Mrs. McMichael, my HS Latin teacher.
The best part of preparing lunch for me, though, was being one of the servers in the line, greeting each person at the festival while dishing out rice. Seeing each face, hearing each voice. And yes, learning some more useful words in my several languages: "Is this enough?" "Would you like more?" "Enough! You can come back for seconds -- bon appetite!" We'd cooked more than enough food for everyone who came, and a sign near the start of the line asked for participants to give as much or as little as they could (suggested 5-15 NIS = $1-4) for the meal. Lots of people brought their own plates and dishes, too. Yay eco-consciousness. I think I'm going to start carrying a plate with me where'er I go. Watching everyone eat, I had mixed feelings: I was disappointed by the fact that Palestinians were mostly only sitting with Palestinians and Jews with Jews. At the same time, everyone was sharing this space and aware of it. Besides, I was just coming from the most bilingual/multicommunal
experience of my time in Israel-Palestine in the kitchen, so my standards were higher. At the same time, I noticed how effective the spacial setup was in facilitating community. At most other festivals [read: clearwater and philly folk] I've been to, volunteer camping and eating are completely separate. The campgrounds are these sprawling spaces where you stake out your own place. While you get to know the people around you, and at Philly Folk might return to the same area to be with your folkfest-friends year after year after year, there's much less of a communal feeling on a wider scale. In contrast, this campground spiraled out from the eating area which acting as a "village green" of sorts, providing a meeting space and common experience to tie everything else together.
After cleaning up from lunch I wandered around for a bit, but found I still didn't have much energy for any of the organized sessions. Instead I sat with Tif on a bench, enjoying the space and atmosphere, noticing the ambient smells of not only marijuana (as one would expect from most such festivals) but also nargila, flavored tobacco from a Middle-Eastern water pipe. We talked a bit, but mostly silenced together. Finally we followed our ears down to the creek to the sound of a tarbuka drum and nasal mashji' flute, where a Palestinian Israeli co-ed Dabke group from the Galil was showing off their moves. I'd like to learn some Dabke one day. This folk dance style keeps very disciplined, stationary shoulders and upper bodies while doing some impressive foot and leg work, going up and down, twisting in and out of various formations. Most of the dancers were in high school, and had been clearing dancing together for some time. It turns out this was actually just a rehearsal: some of the dancers were having trouble with one formation, and the teacher kept stopping them and making them start over.
Soon I was itching to go back to the kitchen tent, where there were hundreds of vegetables to chop up. At first the group which gathered was almost all Palestinian, but before long a number of Jews came. About 12 of us ranging in age from 14 to 60+ stood around the huge table in the darkening light, cutting cucumbers and tomatoes and talking. Where are you coming from? Is your family here? Was it hard to cross the border to get here? [Yes, very hard]. Like in the BPC/FF tent before, everyone talked in Hebrew or Arabic with others taking turns translating. We even had to translate among different dialects of Arabic at times.
I made some good connections there: For much of the time, I was standing with and talking to an older Jewish women. After I while I asked her, "What should I call you, Grandma," using a respectful Hebrew word for an older woman I didn't know. She thought for a minute, then: "Grandma will do. I despair of having any grandkids myself, since one son is married but doesn't want children and the other can't seem to find anyone to marry." I told her that I'd welcome a grandma, too: While I had three, all of whom I loved dearly, they've all passed away. Only several hours later while I was leaving did she take me aside and tell me: "If I'm too be your grandmother you must know how to find me. If you're even in Rosh Pina, just ask for Frieda." Then she disappeared into the crowd like a faerie.
My other new friends were a rising 12th-grader, secular Jewish girl named Koren and a Palestinian from the Galil named Hamudi. Koren studies at an anthroposophic high school which reminds me of upitinas (sp?) outside Philly in its student-directed style. She was fascinated to hear that colleges like Brown exist. While the three of us and THB sat together for dinner after several hundred cucumbers, Koren turned to me and asked, "Why are you Jewish?" You know, small questions. We all talked for hours about religion, life, awareness and purpose in life. It was the most sophisticated conversation I've had in Hebrew in ages, perhaps ever. They don't teach you to describe "Monolithic Judaism" in high school, let me tell you that.
Luckily for us, the evening concerts all started over two hours late, something which concerned no one, so we didn't miss anything. Now Sulha really felt like a folk festival as the couple thousand people sat on the hillside looking down towards the stage. The first performers led a series of sufi-inspired meditations and taught Hebrew and Arabic chants. I liked a bunch, and wish I remembered more. While the second act set up, one of the Sulha organizers shared a poignant poem he composed about the paradox of being an Israeli Jew. I asked him for a copy, and will share it after he sends it to me. The second act wasn't particularly note-worthy (so-so singer-songwriter with guitar), but I really enjoyed the third act, a group who played Indian-inspired Jewish music, complete with sitar, tabla and oud. So good. The last act on the schedule was Shutei Hanevu'ah, the "Fools of Prophecy," a spoken word group I've never heard but my sister really likes, so I was looking forward to. The
bad side of the late start was that there was no chance I'd catch them -- they were booked for 10:30 but by 1:45 we were still waiting for the 9:45 group to start, and I had to think about leaving so I could get some sleep before the next day rolled around. Plus, the program kept be lengthened: As I was packing up to go, they announced a surprise addition, that the Dabke group would be performing. As cool as the dance had been in the afternoon, it was that much better under the shining nearly-full moon above and cool breezy air. The magic of theatrical lights. After the choreographed bit ended, they called for everyone to get up and dance with them, and I can't think of a better final image than that huge mass leaping and jumping all together.
As for my thoughts on the Sulha. . .
Well, it's a mixed bag. On the one hand, it's really important to have this informal relationship-building. On the other hand, far too many of the people there seemed to view Sulha as a final step, rather than as a building or even more, as a neat phenomenon off in its own universe. I decided that one day was the right amount of time to spend there, and in the evening as I was leaving, many people asked me in disbelief how I could go away from something so spectacular. I took great pride in telling people that I was not only celebrating coexistence but also working towards it, and that I was leaving so I could continue building peace. There were definitely people there who were thinking "OK, now I've done my coexistence for the year, I'm excempt until next year," or even more so, "I've gone to Sulha so now I don't need to think about the fact that my government, which I support, systematically imposes blocks to prevent the sulha vision from coming true."
Sulha was good for my soul.
As I've written about before, Shabbat should be a taste of the world to come. Sulha was a shabbat for me from this work I've been doing this whole summer. For a moment I could not only picture but live in this world that I dream of. It helps me focus and not loose hope. It's a really good thing. And at the same time, I need to remember that Sulha is only a taste, imagination and hope. It's not the real world, and pretending that it is will hurt more than it helps. For now, I'm back in the real world.
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ps: my own commentary on life with ICAHD will be forthcoming. In the meantime, you can check updates on the ICAHD website. Wednesday, Tuesday, Monday, and Sunday. Feel free to comment here.
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08:45 pm
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reflections a couple days in
I don't really have time to be updating now, but I shall anyway because I don't want to be writing all of this at once.
In short: This is amazing. This afternoon at our building site, I was sitting on the ROOF of the house we're building laying down cinderblocks and tying steel rods together to make beams. Below us, the exterior walls were already nearly reaching the ceiling, with clearly defined doors and windows. When we left the site yesterday, there was a flat foundation with 9 concrete columns sticking up. This building feels like a miracle. It is a miracle.
[absolutely no time to shrink pics and post them properly. I should write a script to shrink them etc, but even less time for that. Expect to find pics on the ICAHD site as we post daily updates, and more pics from me at the end in two weeks.]
I stand on the roof-to-be of this house, looking at the jumble of steel and concrete to the side. That used to be this house. I remember less than 10 days ago sitting with Seddi, a bright and bubbling 11-year-old, talking about how this used to be his house. I remember picking out pieces of tile, finding an old pair of shoes and seeing the furniture crushed inside the house from when the Hamdan family didn't have time to move out of their house before its demolition a year ago.
And now I stand here.
I come home each night bubbling, smiling, floating. Singing to myself the whole way back from center city where the transits leave me. Val: "I haven't seen you this happy since we got here. And certainly not about work." It's true. Here we are, facing the seeming impossibility of accomplishing anything and we're making a small step. Netzach and hod. Jewish tradition teaches these complementary values, to be metaphorically written on a note in either pocket, or as Mitch Chefitz says, held in each outstretched hand while trying to balance. On the one hand is eternity: I am the pinnicle of creation! everything that came before me, all of the processes of the world, everything has been leading to this very moment, to my existence. I am the most important thing ever. I am the last step in many longer generations streching back through time to the very beginning. The world was created specifically for me. On the other side, nothingness. I am but dust. I come from dust and will return to dust, among the hundreds of thousands of others like me, trudging through this existence. I am but a blip. I have no lasting presence, no lasting effects and noone to remember me.
One of the challenges in life is finding the rights places to balance between those poles. And this house we're building is perched there, too. On the one hand, it will have no effect. Building this house won't affect the Occupation or change the continuing oppression and abuse happening here. It won't save the world, Israel or Palestine. It might not even survive a year before being demolished again. Why am I wasting my energy here? Then on the other side: This is a family's home. They will leave here, and have a shelter and a place to call their own in dignity. Each of the construction workers can afford to bring food home to his family, and increasing challenge: According to B'tselem, even among Jewish Israelis within the green line, at least 25% of children go to bed hungry at least once a week. Some 20% of the Israeli elderly are chronically hungry and poor. In this environment, even two weeks employment will make a critical difference for these builders. And look at the relationships: among the working volunteers, a brilliant group of 20 from throughout the USA and Europe; with the several if disappointingly few Israelis who participate, with the Palestinians. With the children. The children who's primary contact with the outside world is bulldozers, who shout across the rocky hills HELLO! HELLO! HELLO! again and again. Crowding around me as I head away up the hill: "I must go now, but I'll be back tomorrow in shah allah." NO! You are forbidden! You are forbidden! You must stay! Children who are so happy and open -- and I worry: will they be able to stay this way? Can we help them from becoming jaded teenagers full of anger and hatred? Seddi and I are becoming friends, slowly. As he ties blue and orange ribbons onto his bicycle, I come over, and ask "hadda azrak? w'hadda burtkani?" "Yes," he answers, carefully forming each syllable: "this is blue. this is orange." Today he brought me a chocolate bar, kitkat style. I looked at it for a moment: certainly not fair trade. Maybe I can put it aside, for later, and then pass it on to someone else. No, i think, looking in his eyes, that's not what he wants. It may not be fair trade, but other things are sometimes more important. And it was delicious. (incidentally, I finally found fair trade cocoa, coffee and olive oil in J-town. And LOTS of hebrew literature from oxfam. Yes, I will throw it at you).
It's important to build something, anything, in the face of so much destruction.
I've also started davenning again daily, finding a new urgency and also a comfort in that relationship. It's much easier to pray in the West Bank than in Jerusalem, in many ways. I can completely understand Jesus' need to climb over the Mount of Olives into his own wilderness, yet closer to J'lem than we are now.
We gather in Beit Arabiya, Salim's home which was rebuilt for the fifth time three years ago during the first summer camp. It's now a local peace center. Beit Arabiya sits on one edge of a valley; preparatory work for the Separation Wall has already started below, spitting distance away. On the far side of the valley, on a taller hill, sits a new Intelligence Interrogation facility for the Shabak. Not long ago, the Palestinians who had property rights to the barren, rocky hill started to build houses there, but they were prompty demolished on grounds that the mountain -- whose steepness and aridity could never support cultivation -- were zoned as agricultural land, and could absolutely not be developed. And now the mountain is capped by this military facility, whose frequent gunshots (a firing range, i hope) made it hard to concentrate during our evening meetings with three human rights groups.
Near the house we're building, the Hamdan's cousins live in a beautiful white house. They're eldest two sons are both grown and married, and while there's plenty of room on the property to build living space for them, and while the family can afford it, they're paying high rents for flats in the center of the village. The house has had a standing demolition order for 15 years now, and they're understandably afraid that if they were to build anything now it would draw too much attention. Then again, almost every house here has a standing demolition order, even though it's illegal by the geneva conventions for Israel to determine and enforce zoning boundaries here in land it conquered after 1967.
Meanwhile, today on Ben Yehuda street there was a big outdoor festival, a "lifestyles" festival sponsored by the national healthcare system. Yay socialism. and yay random festival booths urging healthy drinking habits to avoid dehydration, proper brushing and dental hygene, huge posters of cauliflower, and so on. It's surreal but really cool. And yet so strange. Helps people choose to be consciously oblivious of the world so close to where they are. Finding out what's going on requires a huge lifestyle change, because you can't just be here anymore. So my question is, are there ways we can lower that gap, make it easier for people to admit the injustice in which they're implicated, and make a difference, without needed to shift their entire lifestyles?
I'm sure it's possible. Maybe a question of framing.
There's a lot of injustice.
So we'll have to keep working.
Shout out:
Dear Mom, THANK YOU for making me buy the steel-toed construction boots. Yes, they give me blisters, and make my wishing-to-be-bare feet (funny story about that BTW) weigh a ton. Still: today I stepped on a 2" nail sticking through some lumber and didn't notice for some time because the lumber was dragging and getting stuck behind. And I didn't even notice. Didn't get through my heel. Thank you.
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01:15 pm
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so much!
A huge weekend -- Kol Zimrah and pot-luck at my flat were fantastic, and more importantly, yesterday was the first day of my major project here -- the ICAHD house rebuilding camp. Which means there's more going on than ever before and less time to write about it.
No time to post now, but you can check up the new update on the ICAHD website at http://www.icahd.org/eng/news.asp?menu=5&submenu=1&item=249.
huge. refocussing. hopeful.
~benj
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06:55 am
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Long and Rambley
Tonight I went to hell.
It was really nice, actually. I'd been sitting at the Cinemateque after just missing this evening's free concert. This week is the Jerusalem Film Festival, a mind-boggling affair of some hundred films. The entire city is decorated (in orange, or course, since the main corporate sponsor is the Orange cell phone company) and every night there's a free concert in the center of town where I arrive half way through the last song of the evening. Joe and I spent much of this evening talking about meaning in Judaism and my goals as a Hillel president this coming year, and now were moving onto Occupation. Sitting on the terrace overlooking the Valley below, I felt oppressed by the ambient orange glow that filled the air. When A and N returned, we all hopped the fence and climbed our way down.
The Hinom Valley (Hebrew Gey Hinom) lies between West Jerusalem and the Old City. Way way back in the day, according to tradition, idol-worshippers would sacrifice their eldest sons to Moloch here, burning them in a huge flaming pit. The valley was so vile and parched, and associated with such terrible actions, that its name became the Hebrew word for Hell, gehennom. [And also the Arabic word, Jehenna, which is sometimes confused with the word for Heaven, Jinna. And if that's not confusing...]
The valley is no longer hellish, but rather a gorgeous park and garden connected to the Sultans Pool, which houses a huge outdoor ampitheater. The super-posh Mount Zion Hotel sits at the top of the cliff with its own gardens which BE described as fit for King Solomon. Sitting among trees and grass with a cool breeze and faint salsa music seeping in from the party, we wished desperately for sheep to graze and could barely imagine the Valley of Shadow of Death (ok, it's a loose translation of Tsalmavet) that this once was. After some time discussing the finer points in life and napping, we tried to scale our way back up, only to be caught by a security guard who didn't believe that we'd come from the Cinameteque in the first place, so we had to climb up the far side and walk around to go home.
( This goes on for a long, long time )
Since I've gone on this long, three more thoughts:
My spoken Arabic is really improving. On Monday, Charley and I went into the old city, and I did ALL of my bargaining in Arabic. While I didn't do very well in the morning, I was on fire by the afternoon. Of course that doesn't remedy the underlying moral issue of bargaining: these vendors need the money more than I do. So knowing I can bargain well, I don't need to shoot for the best deal.
To celebrate America day last week, and primarly to visit friends, Charley and I went to Netanya. It felt just like going to America -- the weather near the coast was humid and disgusting, and Netanya looks exactly like Florida (so he claims; I've never been). It even rained in the morning. Only for 15 seconds (I counted), but enough such that in the evening, when we were at a friends concert in Tel Aviv, people asked us, shocked, "did it really rain in Netanya this morning?" In the evening we went to the beach and got a little wet before building an AWESOME sand castle and singing every song we could think of with the word America in it. In the morning, we sat in on an Arabic ulpan class, then played on the beach and had a picnic with AK and BE from Yale. The beach was littered with huge meduzot (jellyfish). While none of us were hit, thank goodness, there was enough poison in the water that our whole bodies stung a bit.
TWO DAY'S UNTIL KOL ZIMRAH! I'm thrilled that my flat is hosting, though disappointed that we ended up scheduling it after Charley's time here ended. Silly planning. We constantly have folks over though (tonight Judy and Joe are sleeping over), I'm proud to say, and Aaron at Pardes has started calling this flat "the hostel." Fitting, I think. I'm proud to emulate my mother's home.
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12:17 pm
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Kol Zimrah Jerusalem
Kol Zimrah this coming Shabbos - Parshat Balak
Kabbalat Shabbat-Orama: Davening to fill your Shabbat Neshamot
When: July 15th, 6:30pm (Kabbalat Shabbat davening begins)
Where: The home of Valerie
Baron, Brian Cohen and Benj Kamm at 17B Pierre Koenig apt. 28. (Find
the path between Pierre Koenig 11 and 13 and take it back and to the
right. Continue under the front of 17 to reach 17B. Apt 28 is one
flight up the stairs. We'll try to mark the path with ribbons and signs)
Who: Anyone who likes mamash-gevalt egalitarian davening with soul. Please bring your own Siddur.
Delicious Kosher Dairy/Pareve Potluck to follow!
Kashrut:
The food should be prepared with kosher dairy/pareve utensils in a
kosher home. Wholesome organic foods are wonderful and please bring
your own plate, bowl, cup & cutlery in order to avoid the need for
disposable dishes.
Feel free to email or call with questions to benj@brown.edu or 02/6728579
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