Ramallah رام الله

Last Friday I went to Ramallah, the Palestinian Authority's headquarters in the West Bank, located just 6 miles north of Jerusalem. Ramallah, much like most of the West Bank, is a place that any Israeli will tell you not to go. Israelis are too well acquainted with the Ramallah of the Intifada, which sponsored numerous suicide bombers, and, is where two Israeli soldiers were lynched by Palestinian policemen and an angry mob. Unnerving, eh?

But, circumstances on the ground have changed. The West Bank is far better than the days of the intifada; it is no Gaza Strip (although certain towns are loyal to Hamas, but definitely not this one). Plus, I would never, ever go to Jenin, Nablus or the PA controlled parts of Hebron. Ramallah has a reputation of being one of the most westernized towns in the West Bank, where it is not uncommon to see beautiful women without veils (which we did) and lots of foreigners (aid groups, journalists, UN, etc). Our only precautions were to remove any judaica, to leave our large Israeli flags at home, and try not to speak any Hebrew there. I would not want to speak Hebrew anyways, as it was a perfect opportunity to practice my Arabic.

After breakfast at my favorite cafe, The Damascus Gate Cafe-managed by the friendliest East Jerusalemite who has a deep affinity for Washington D.C., in the Arab part of the old city of Jerusalem, we walked to the East Jerusalem bus station which serves all of the West Bank via micro-buses. On the bus I sat next to a Palestinian-American from Virginia who was very happy to meet other Americans (he did not care that we were Jewish), and we chatted about his upcoming kids, married life (I couldn't contribute too much to that subject), and the good ol' U.S of A.

Driving into Ramallah was easy, in fact, too easy. Apparently the friction is not getting into the West Bank, but getting back into Israel. On the way we saw large, beautiful villas all made out of Jerusalem stone which stood out among more modest apartments and houses. Once we got there we saw that the entire town looked a a little bit like Jerusalem, and a lot like any other Arab city in the Middle East; incoherent and sprawled with some trash but cleaner than most. Ramallah is situated in the hills Judea, which are fairly desolate, windswept and barren, which gives it an antiquated, biblical feel.

We were dropped off in the center by a beautiful fountain of lions made out of stone. Being Friday, a lot was closed, which that Ramallah was quieter and probably safer.

Stars and Bucks, Starbucks fiercest competitor

We then cabbed to Arafat's tomb, next to the Mukaata, the PA's government headquarters. It was a pleasant tomb, I guess a nice place to be buried, although the signs there indicated that he would be buried in Jerusalem when they control the city. Hmmmm.




The only real unnerving thing we saw in Ramallah were these ubiquitous martyrdom posters:

The "Shaheed."

Guilty by association.

We wandered back towards the center of town, and struck up a conversation with a talkative, young shopkeeper. We talked for 20 minutes or so in broken English with some Arabic thrown in, listening to how much he loves America (but he made sure to let us know he did not care for its leadership. Fair 'nuff), how much he hates Bin Laden, the Taliban and Hamas-especially Hamas. I think he also said that he likes America because girls can wear skirts. Thats a pretty good reason, come to think of it. Several young boys all decked out in nationalist apparel with religious headbands walked by when I saw a potential kodak moment. They were more than happy to pose for a camera-which I think they have done many, many times before-and admire their digital snapshot, only to run off down the street.

I am pretty sure the green sachs say: there is no God but Allah and Mohamed is his messenger.

Sounds like a great place to send your kids...

If anyone could explain to me how Santa Claus fits into this equation, I would like to know.

Typical anti-semitic books you will find in any Arab city. BUT-there were not as many as I expected. Morocco had a much larger selection of Jew-hating books; entire libraries had storefronts devoted to debasing the Jewish people and Israel. So... good job Ramallah! Not as bad as you could have been!

We visited a nice cafe on the sixth floor of the tallest building in Ramallah, with a nice view of the hilly countryside. Before we even sat down, an Israeli-Arab at the table next to us asked us to sit down. We tried to hide our Hebrew language skills (a generally good idea anywhere in the West Bank), but my classical Arabic can only go so far in conversation and he spoke little English. So, we ended up having a conversation in Hebrew for 45 minutes or so at a cafe in downtown Ramallah. The lad who invited us over called himself Tomer, which oddly enough is a Jewish-Israeli name, but we found out he works in Tel-Aviv, so I imagine it is the name he choses to go by amongst Jews. Tomer paid for our drinks, and invited us to party in Tel-Aviv sometime. Thats what I call a cool dude.

My friend Ellis, enjoying a scenic view of Ramallah.

The barrier, on our way back.

The picture below was taken at the Kalandria border crossing, which was quite a fast process-although there were not too many people crossing that day. The micro-bus stopped, emptied everyone out, they went into the terminal and 5 minutes later we picked them up on the other side. Two Israeli border guards asked to see our passports, and then we were back on our way to Israel proper.

I walked from the micro-bus station to the Hebrew University dorms with my friend Guy, all the while hashing out our thoughts on Ramallah, the security situation and how many PA policemen were visible. We could definitely tell that Ramallah was were the Palestinian elite resided. There were cultural institutions, lots of construction (looked like the economy was doing ok, beautiful apartments popping up everywhere... and a depressingly high number of luxury vehicles; we saw more in Ramallah in an afternoon than I do in Be'er Sheva in a few days. We saw Mercedes, BMWs, Audis... I say depressing because the Palestinians receive the most aid out of any refugee group in the world and the international community virtually funds their government, but that money is spent on nice villas and cars. Its no secret that the PA is corrupt, Arafat was on Forbes' list of "Kings, Queens & Despots." Can you guess which category he was in?

As we were gathering our thoughts, a massive rock the size of a softball on steroids came sailing right behind our heads, hitting the road to our side. We were walking past an Arab school yard, a school yard we have walked too many times to count. My blood began to boil. My safety was put at risk, and I was furious. This is how enemies are made, little things like this are how conflicts perpetuate on an individual level. I thought to myself, "that little shit, if I ever catch you you are going to get the beating of a lifetime." I then calmed myself down and tried to think in Arabic how I would chew that kid out.

This situation just goes to show that you can go into the West Bank, but come back to familiar territory and still be threatened. It shows that people filled with hate do not care about how well intentioned you can be. They did not know that we had just been to Ramallah (ironic to have a rock thrown at us in Israel, not Ramallah), that we are moderates who want to see a just solution to the conflict. They just saw two white guys, not visibly Jewish, but there was a chance (being in Israel and whatnot), so why not try to bash their heads in? It goes to show that when you prepare for peace, you also need to prepare for war, both mentally and physically. I am extremely wary, even dismissive of those far-leftists that believe if the barrier were taken down, and Israel returned to 1967 borders, peace would ensue. But at the same time I am wary of those who see only war as a recourse of action.

The moral I derived was this: take small chances to understand the other (go visit them in the West Bank), but not big ones (do not visit them in Jenin, Nablus or Hevron), and always be prepared. Do not let naivety and high hopes cloud your judgment and do not let confounding pessimism and the belief that things cannot change get in the way.

Benny Morris' 1948

My professor Benny Morris just released his new, definitive book on the 1948 Israeli-Arab War, known by the victors as the War of Independence, and by the losers as the Nakba.

Here is a great New Yorker review of the book.

You can buy the book here, or you can really show your admiration here.

ום הזיכרון לשואה ולגבורה Remembrance Day for the Holocaust and Heroism

Today is Yom HaShoah, Israel's day of remembrance for the Holocaust. It is marked by a two minute siren throughout the country, during which everybody stops what they are doing, even if you are driving on the highway, and stand at attention.

On my campus, there was a memorial in the main square with around 1,000 people. Everyone's conversations immediately stopped with the siren, and after several people spoke, some of them survivors, and each one lit a branch of a candelabra.

Here are two clips so you can understand what I mean by the 'everybody stop what they are doing':





It would be nice if memorial day meant this much for Americans, instead of a chance to go shopping.

Here is a very moving video of an Israeli Defense Forces ceremony at Auschwitz, with a flyover by the Israeli Air Force where the Allies could have bombed the railroad tracks leading into Auschwitz, but chose not too. Please check it out.

Poland - Spring Break 08 - The Nazi Concentration and Extermination Camps

Most people do not know how to react when I told them that I was going to Poland for spring break. Especially when they found out it was to see the remnants of the Nazi death camps. Most people associate beaches and booze with spring break, not Auschwitz and Birkenau. But regardless of any preconceived notions of what should be done on spring break, a trip such as mine should be undertaken by any person, especially if they are Jewish or German, but really anyone who wishes to try and understand one of the darkest pages in the history of mankind.

The trip lasted from April 22-29, and covered the Warsaw and Krakow Ghettos, Treblinka, Majdanek, Belzec, and Aushwitz-Birkenau. Throughout our criss-crossing of Poland we visited a town (Kazimierz Dolny) that had hidden several Jewish families, and a town that was once majority Jewish but is now Judenrein. We visited restored graveyards and restored synagogues. We met a survivor and a Righteous Among the Nations. We saw death and we celebrated life.

I left for Poland questioning how humanity can fail itself so horrifically, hoping that by visiting these sites I would be able to make some sense of it all. I hoped to understand on a personal level, that is, more than what the textbooks teach, what we Jews suffered. In all I wanted to see and understand. This was difficult because some of the camps have been destroyed, and nature has taken over what is rightfully hers; green grass now grows all over Auschwitz-grass that would have been eaten by starving slaves and reduced to a thick mud. The weather was beautiful and Poland was beautiful.

I did not find many answers to my questions, in fact, only more questions, which underscores the expression that the more you learn, the more you find that you do not know. The more I learned about each camp, each personal story, and the sheer magnitude of the numbers (6,000,000) Jews murdered; 17,000 people gassed in one day at Treblinka; 1 in 3 people in Warsaw used to be Jews, now there are maybe 200; 96% of the Soliniki Jews were exterminated, only two people out of over 500,000 survived Belzec...) , the more I could not comprehend. The more senseless it all seemed.

Each camp elicited different emotions from me. Treblinka was the first, thus my emotions were more raw as I was not yet numbed. All that was left was 17,000 jagged stones resembling the daily death toll, surrounding a large stone monument. The size of the camp was the most striking. Treblinka was small for a facility that destroyed 800,000 people, and was so because there was no need for housing of any sort: the earth soaked up the blood of the murdered and the air absorbed the ashes of their bodies.

Representation of the train tracks that ended at the gas chambers

Majdanek sent a chill up my spine when I first saw it from the bus because it is one of the most well preserved camps; it can be up and running in a very short amount of time. Alongside the camp was a main roadway and several apartment buildings and houses-people actually lived right next to where hundreds of thousands perished. It is obvious that the Poles living nearby knew what transpired. Imagine having a concentration and extermination camp, barracks, work-fields, crematorium and burial pits as your back or front yard. I wonder if the children have nightmares at night.

The barracks

The proximity of the living to the dead

Zyclon B Gas

A barrack full of the prisoner's shoes

The crematorium

The smokestack

7 tonnes of human ashes intermingled with bones and other human remains uninterred by the Soviets from massive pits next to the crematorium

Belzec was razed, and in its place is a large field of volcanic, molten looking rocks, giving it the appearance that nothing could grow there. It is a field of waste. On the periphery are the names of all the communities swallowed up by the camp, and in the middle is a pathway with morbidly dark and cold rising walls until you reach a wall that declares:

"Earth, do not cover my blood; let there be no resting place for my outcry!"(Job 16,18)

Opposite the wall are hundreds of first names, some Jewish, others not.

My friend Guy in front of the memorial

The walkway through the memorial, the same path the victims were led on to the gas chambers

On that list is my Hebrew name, Aria

A staggering statistic from the Belzec museum

Auschwitz-Birkenau was terrifyingly big. Its vastness could not be demarcated if it were not for the trees at opposite ends of the camp signaling where death freely preyed. And everybody knows the sight of the train tracks leading into the camp. The eeriest thing is that all train tracks in Europe lead to Aushwitz. There are barracks that used to be stables holding a handful of horses, but instead held 500 or more people at once. The latrines, remnants of the gas chambers, the processing center where people were shaved and tattooed, and the site where those who were told to move to the left lived for a short while, and those who moved to the right were led to the gas chambers. All around was barbed wire and watchtowers. All of the efforts the Nazis put in to prevent escapees-land mines, patrols, electric fences, ravenous dogs-almost made the Nazis out to be afraid of the Jews, like they were some wicked and dangerous beast in a pandora's box. The raw effort of the Nazis in trying to wipe out European's Jews, and other undesirables, is clearly evident at Auschwitz-Birkenau.

All train tracks lead to Auschwitz

Only a fragment of the barracks

Inside the barracks

Imagine these latrines full of human waste, the proximity of everyone, the lack of privacy, the dehumanization of it all, even little children hiding in the waste to avoid liquidation

Remains of one of the gas chambers-this gas chamber is where most of Hungary's Jewry was murdered

Guy and I making a point

Pictures of entire families and unidentified Jews wiped out

Too big to grasp

At Auschwitz I, "Work Liberates"

The outside of Joseph Mengele's building (aka the Angel of Death) where he conducted his sick experiments on prisoners. The windows were covered so no one would know what he did.

Not a single camp was, to me, more more profound than any other. To singularly pick any of the camps in that regard is impossible. Let me give you an analogy to pervert: ask a father to pick his favorite child and he cannot because they are all unique. The same principle applies. Each camp has wrought its own sort of special hell on earth that cannot be imagined by anyone living today except for those who have survived. Each camp, for me, spoke of different horrors, completely intangible to the modern day visitor.

Throughout the trip there was a tenuous tension between life and death, which seemed appropriate because in Judaism there is a very fine line between joy and sorrow. But more obviously because the nature of the trip was to see death. Dotting the beautiful Polish countryside are shtetls (one can imagine Jews still living there) and towns, extravagant and modest Catholic churches and well-kept Catholic graveyards. But there are no synagogues or cemeteries for Jews-the Nazis could not even give us peace in death. Entire cemeteries were ripped up and the gravestones were used to pave the entrances to the concentration and extermination camps.

A monument near Kazimierz Dolny, made out of desecrated grave stones. A central theme to most of the monuments is a large tear that cuts through Jewish life. Here, the men's graves are separated from the women's graves, as they would be in a Jewish cemetery.

If death is on the far left side of a spectrum, and life on the other, then connecting the two is what was and what could have been. What was can be described as the rich Jewish life that had existed for over 1,000 in Poland, and even longer than that in other parts of Europe. What could have been is the continuation of that civilization, the thought that the 1 and 1/2 million murdered Jewish children would have grown up to live normal lives and contribute to mankind as we Jews have done since Abraham first smashed his father's idol. On the right side of the spectrum, life, is where we came into play. We gave Kaddish at the restored cemetaries. We sang Hatikva and Am Yisrael Chai in Auschwitz and Belzec to show defiance at the Nazi's atrocities and show that Jewish life still reigned. At Belzec we blew the same shofar that was used at the Western Wall after the 1967 War when Jerusalem was reunited. We filled up the Rema Synagogue in Krakow and listened to a 96 year old Chazzan-a survivor nonetheless-lead us in prayer with a sorrowful and wavering voice. We affirmed life, we were there, and most importantly, we could walk out of the camps.

Myself with Chabadnicks and other members of my trip after davening the morning prayers at the Rema Shul in Krakow

On our last night of the trip we were fortunate enough to be able to attend a memorial service by the Israeli Defense Forces in Warsaw at Mila 18, the headquarters of the Jewish Warsaw Ghetto Uprising that successfully fought the Germans longer than all of Poland was able to. What remains is a memorials atop a large mound, under which (and this is true for much of what we saw) were the remains of Jewish fighters that could not make it out of the ghetto. Jewish soldiers stood at attention, speeches and songs to the dead were given, and a wreath laid at their mass grave. It would have been utterly inconceivable for any Jew caught up in the Nazi nightmare to imagine that a Jewish army would be standing where they stood only a few decades later.

Israeli soldiers at Mila 18

Here is a link to my photo album from the trip, there will be comments within a week or so.

Here is a general map and itinerary of our trip.

An interesting article on the public discourse of North African Jewry during the holocaust.

Here is some information relating to the upcoming March of the Living, which the Israeli soldiers were in Poland preparing for. I encourage anyone able to sign up to do so. Please, if you are able to go, then do, history never becomes irrelevant. Especially these days where international figures and statesmen such as Mahmoud Ahmadinajad of Iran can publicly deny the holocaust.

This is one of the monuments that most impressed me, however I cannot remember the name of its location for now. In front there are 6 Jews with different facial expressions and fists to represent the 6,000,000,000. There are 5 hands to symbolize how the Nazis lined people up in 5 to be selected for work or the gas chambers. Behind the monument is a large pit with the remains of thousands. Once again, there is a tear running through it to symbolize life cut short.

Chag Pesach Sameach! Happy Pesach!

Hope everyone had a memorable Shabat haGadol and Pesach, whether you celebrated the first sedar or both. I had the most memorable Shabbat and Pesach ever, not exaggerating. I owe it all to a wonderful man, Jeff Seidel, who heads the Jewish Student Information Center, which sets students up with warm, adoptive families for Shabbat.

Jeff set my friends and myself up with the Rapaport family for Shabbat dinner (known for their work in the diamond industry), who hosted at least 25 people with warmth and delicious food. Saturday night a Chabad family in the old city hosted a friend and I for Pesach. We started at 9:00 and did not leave until at least 3:30, and we definitely had more than the 4 cups of wine. That was the wildest sedar I have ever been to. Sunday for lunch all of us went to a stunningly modern and minimalistically decorated apartment used by an American family from New York City. That night a very well known benefactor (the guy that donates all prayerbooks and benches to the Western Wall) hosted several students as well as the Chief Rabbi and Rebbetzin of Venezuela at the King David Hotel for the second sedar. Wow, never before have I felt at a sedar like we had truly escaped Egypt to bathe in freedom and luxury-the King David hotel can do that. We did not leave that sedar until 3 in the morning.

Obviously any student that will be in Israel, no matter the amount of the time, just as long as you are here, you must be set up by Jeff Seidel for an unforgettable meal. Do yourself a favor and check him out, or, if you are feeling generous, please donate, it all goes to a good cause:
www.jeffseidel.com

Tomorrow I will be embarking on a trip, hosted and subsidized by Jeff Seidel, to Poland in order to visit the concentration camps, ghettos and remnants of the horrors of the Holocaust. This trip is not a typical Spring break trip-beaches and beer are not involved-but it will be immensely meaningful, and will fulfill an obligation I believe every person, especially a Jew, to visit the camps.

On that note, I would like to thank Jeff Seidel for enabling all of these wonderful opportunities that I would otherwise not be able to be a part of, for the Jewish education that he provides as well as a home away from home. Thanks Jeff!



Chag Sameach!

Hiking in Ein Akev

Yesterday a few of us took a bus down to Sde Boker, the former home of Israel's first Prime Minister, David Ben-Gurion. There is a kibbutz there (not as cool as Kibbutz Ketura), Ben-Gurion's grave, a small college, and some marvelous hiking.

We hiked Ein-Aqev, which is on the Israel Trail. The desert-scape was breathtaking, it was surprisingly cool for the Negev, and we were rewarded with a beautiful oasis which was as frigid as arctic waters but just right for a dip. At the end of the trail we happened upon a Bedouin tent with an extremely hospitable woman and her two beautiful children. She was selling bread, labneh and tea, all of which she made herself. Her friendliness was not due to her need for tourists, she was genuinely exhibiting Bedouin hospitality. I got to practice my Arabic with her, and she spoke a mishmash of Hebrew, Arabic and English. We were all dismayed to find out that her two daughters, aged 4 and 6, did not go to school (even though it was 5 km away) because their father did not want them to, and because of the costs. This is one of the many problems Israel faces with the Bedouins. On the one hand, if Israel forced them all to go to school then Israel would be accused of "cultural genocide" or some BS far-leftist label that means nothing. But on the other, allowing different ethnic groups autonomy results in high disparities in education-in this case, no education. Such a shame.

The beginning

The entire bottom was covered in a slick algae that felt great on sore feet

Elia and myself enjoying the freezing water

Great rock formations next to a massive cliff

Theres the cliff

The Bedouin tent

The picture does not do justice to her eyes, they were really quite stunning

It is hard to fathom living like this

Ibex!

Sde Boker from across the valley

Probably the Coolest Kibbutz Ever - Kibbutz Ketura

Last weekend the BGU OSP program went down south to the Aravah Valley to visit the most surreal kibbutz in Israel, Kibbutz Ketura. The Aravah Valley is by far the hottest desert in Israel; it receives more radiation than anywhere else (maybe more than anywhere else in the world), receives the least amount of rainfall in Israel, and is subject to a constant, dry wind most of the year. The region has more underground water than is in the Sea of the Galilee, but it is half the salinity of seawater. Sounds like a paradise huh?

The Jordanian side is sparsely populated, and the Israeli side has a few Kibbutzim before reaching Eilat. Kibbutz Ketura (named after Abraham's wife after Sarah died) is one of those, and was founded by American Jews in 1973 based on agriculture, socialist principles, egalitarianism between the various dominations of Judaism, and is a part of the Green Kibbutz Movement.

But its not how the kibbutz started that is interesting, it is where the Kibbutz finds itself today that is fascinating. Considering that most kibbutzim in Israel have had to adjust their socialist ideologies and many have faced bankruptcy and are forced to privatize, Ketura has adapted remarkably well. It is still highly socialist (with all the bureaucracy that that entails, in my opinion...) and egalitarian.

Here is what you can find on the kibbutz: amidst the barren desert there are massive date orchards, which places Israel in the top 3 date producers in the world (Iraq used to be #1, but Saddam managed to destroy that achievement, California beats Israel currently); a large dairy farm with lots of cows-a bizarre sight in the desert because there is no grass to freely graze; a very nice hotel for tourists; a micro-algae farm that extracts astaxanthin; the Arava Institute for Environmental Studies, which is affiliated with BGU and hosts Palestinian and Jordanian students alongside Jewish Israelis; lastly, an exotic fish farm.

Whew. Thats a lot. The cows are bizarre to see in a desert, but they do quite well. The algae is worth more than gold per ounce, and is used in makeup (Estee Lauder), health supplements, and is also used to make farm fished salmon pink-providing them with nutrients not available in domesticated settings. The run-off water from the algae is used with the exotic fish farm (sold to aquariums), so there is no waste, it is a closed system. Both the algae and date trees thrive off of the salty water, desert sun and constant heat. As if all of that was not crazy enough, Israeli researches have successfully planted two date tree from seeds discovered at Masada in clay jars that dated over 2,000 years old. Hopefully, the ancient Judean date tree will be reintroduced into the region, most of the existing dates are from Iraq. Lastly, the kibbutz has accepted a family from Darfur that fled across Sudan and Egypt looking for safety in Israel. Note: the kid in the middle of the picture in that article mooned our entire OSP group. Ah, kids.

Kibbutz Ketura is highly innovative and a true testament to Israel's achievements. It is an oasis in the desert, full of hope and promise for the future of a volatile region. I highly recommend anyone to visit it.

The Kibbutz from the top of the Arava rift

The date farm

Checking out the algae... wowIts a cash crop

Ever been licked by a Cow? Their tongues are kinda gross

The kibbutz is so socialist, the laundry is communal. Hmm, if I do not have to do laundry, then socialism sounds pretty good to me...