Some days you get what you deserve. Others, you get a little bit more.
I had one of those ‘other’ days last weekend when I attended non violence training in Jenin, a Palestinian city whose name is associated with armed resistance, Israeli raids, and an infamous massacre. Nothing of these things happened while I was there but I did have my own personal collisions with a few locals.
The trainings were the first in a series of similar efforts being undertaken by Holy Land Trust, a Palestinian NGO in Bethlehem where I volunteer. As soon as a 15 minute break was announced, I found myself flanked by a group of young women all very eager to speak with me. They began introducing themselves and asked if they could practice speaking English with me. A few minutes into the conversation, another girl shyly approached the group. I asked if she was a student like the others and was promptly assured that “she’s not a student. She’s a virgin.” Arabs are a bit like children in the sense that you never know what they’re going to say next. The 15 minutes I had intended to use to gain insight into participants’ motivation for pursuing non violence proceeded thus:
Me: Oh, so you’re not in school. Are you married?
Girl 1: “No, she’s a VIRGIN.”
-I think you mean she’s single, right?
Girl 2: “No, she’s a virgin.” Looks at the other women for support, who are all nodding in agreement to the quiet one’s chastity. “So, where are you from?” they ask me.
-The U.S.
“Where exactly?”
-Alabama
Hmph. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard of Al-La-Bom-Ah.” She looks at me with an eyebrow raised in suspicion and then decides to give me a chance even though I’m not from New York or California.
-So, do you know Helen?
-Keller? (Not concealing my wonderment at the thoroughness of the Palestinian education system.)
-Um, no HELEN. She was tall….blonde hair…. She came here once.
-She was from Alabama?
-No, Chicago. Well, then do you know Charlie?
-Where’s he from?
-London.
Training resumed and I had gained nothing, save a sense of the girls’ provinciality. Had I known what was coming next, I would have spent the next hour prepping rather than wondering what Helen had been doing in Jenin.
When it was once again time for coffee, I was approached by one of the lawyers in the group. We exchanged niceties and I told him where I was from, remarking that it wasn’t one of the more well known states. He laughed and said that he knew Alabama well. In fact, he could name every state in the U.S. Then he asked if the average American could name just two Palestinian cities. I saw where he was headed immediately.
I’ve had this conversation before. The first one happened several years ago on my first excursion outside the U.S. to England. It seems like most of the rest of the world has an idea that Americans are largely ignorant about the world around them. For the most part, they are right. Why, for instance, is the media giving more attention to Paris Hilton’s house arrest than to the G8 Summit? The media alone is not at fault; it is merely responding to demand.
The same man asked me if I lived in a democratic country. It wasn’t a rhetorical question. He wanted to know if I understood exactly how much money my country gives to Israel and what it is used for. I said, yes I am aware and I am sorry. I am sorry that you associate the U.S. with weapons, walls and checkpoints that make occupation efficient. But you should also know how much aid the US has given to Palestinians.
He asked about the Jewish lobby and why it was so powerful. Why all the presidential candidates were saying the same things regarding Israel and the Palestinians. Why the media only showed bad things that happened to Israelis but not to Palestinians. Why America seemed to hate Arabs.
My Arabic was failing me miserably. Another young man stepped in to defend me, but I told him I could handle it. I slowed the questions being fired at me long enough to tell my colleague that I would gladly speak with him, under the condition that he also listen to what I had to say.
All too often, I can’t formulate proper answers to such inquiries. But I have to try because I do live in a democratic country and theoretically have some say in its policies in the world. Sometimes I just wish I could drag a few fellow Americans over here with me and make them assist in my feeble attempts at diplomacy. Perhaps mandatory encounters with people whose lives our policies directly affect wouldn't be such a bad idea. If all went well, people might begin to care a bit more about what happens across the Atlantic. At the very least, it would give Ms. Hilton and other undeserving celebrities a break from the spotlight.
