I was feeling nervous the entire day (more like entire week) leading up to my departure to Tel Aviv from Newark airport. It conjured up many emotions and as take-off drew near. But, in the last few hours before I left, I grew more and more quiet, alert, focused. A flood of images filled my mind from war that I read about in front page headlines, seen in documentaries, heard on the news, spoke to people about who are one degree separated by either a hostage or a family member who was murdered, and the relentless scrolls on social media depicting the horrors of war – it was beginning to feel more personal now. No longer detached or dissociated by the gulf of the Atlantic Ocean and the distractions of daily inconveniences or delights, it was happening now where I was heading
Seeing videos of scores of innocent people being massacred is one thing, but to be amongst the people who are directly affected, whether they are Palestinian or Israeli, created a sense of stillness in me. But, these weren’t people that were just personally affected by these circumstances, they were also people that were effecting – whether contributing to the war effort, peace effort, justice effort, or the self-preservation effort, the desire to live another day.
But, despite my nervousness, I am well aware that life presses forward – some more easily than others. In Tel Aviv, my cousin’s friend attends the opera, only for it to be disrupted half-way through by an air raid siren – go to nearest bomb shelter as the aria comes to a halt I imagine. If they are still able to go to the opera, life must not be that bad, right? But, I imagine for many Gazans, it is all just one long loud silent siren for those suffering a barrage of tragedy and death – only without the opera stage. Or maybe this war is one long tragic opera they are living in as well. From my perspective, there are fears everywhere, there is fight everywhere. And there is a determination and will to keep moving forward.
I haven’t even stepped foot on soil yet, but from the Israeli who flanks me to my right on Emirates airlines, he describes the presence of war as a constant way of life. You go about your life – and if you hear a siren, you go the safe room. You read about the damage, the casualties. And, then you go about your life again. There is a coolness, coldness, but also a nonchalance as we as Americans may feel the severe inconvenience of a traffic jam on the highway.
But for this 36,998 ft. perspective right now – I am understanding our way of internalizing war can float from hot anger, to disassociation, to resigned depression. But, it remains the undercurrent always for those in the Palestine/Israel region.
I packed light - two video cameras in a backpack weighing 15 pounds, a few articles of clothing, and all my camera gear checked underneath. Of course, I brought some gifts for my relatives, too.
Some of these relatives, 3rd cousins around my age, share the same great grandparents as I by the names of Wolf Jacobs (b. 1862) and Udel “Bertha” Shapire (b.1861) on my maternal father’s side and great grandparents by names of Levi Netheim(b.1838) and Helena Visitor(b.1849) on my maternal mother’s side. Many cousins, much history – me, a dissociated American has roots with family living in modern day Israel (or the land referred to as Palestine, depending on who is reading this).
I have some vivid memories of when I visiting family in Israel was 32 years ago in 1992 when I was 8 years old and staying at kibbutz Ma’ayan Tzvi. The sense of families living together, a socialist way of life, all contributing, and sharing a meal in the common dining hall known as the Chadar Ochel. 32 years later, I will return to the same Kibbutz. I have memories of making up songs with my family to understand the difference between a Bar and Bat Mitzvah – song can create a lasting memory with place.
The intention of this trip to capture the Palestinian and Israeli teenagers who I first met in 2022 as part of peace building institute in the United States, and I will go much more in depth into this later, but now knowing that I have cousins across the country drops me into a deeper association. Though I have never lived here, I have a bloodline here.
Two observations from the first leg of my plane ride that I will carry with me throughout my trip.
Lesson one: Remain calm when things don’t go according to plan.
One hour into flight, the typical international flying fear was my reality – I lost my passport after I got on the plane. I quickly went through scenarios in my mind if I could have left it at the market counter at Newark airpot, how I would be able to enter a country without it, etc. My seat-mates looked around our seats with no luck. A few deep breaths and after a surprisingly good meal on Emirates, I went to the overhead compartment and in the chaos of boarding the plane, my passport somehow slid underneath someone else’s suitcase. Let me rephrase it, my passport didn’t just slide on its own – I left it up there, baggage got moved around, and there it was – completely my fault. The illusion of me being self-aware of my surroundings and alert was met with reality. Even if I didn’t find it, it’s just a passport, there are ways to still go forward, to press on. It’s not the biggest of deals because there are actually small solutions that I can achieve. The nice lady from Hyderabad, India, on my left, who shared with me her book of Krishna, Sree Bhagavadtham written in Telugu, helped me look, along with the Israeli real estate guy/comedian. We all worked together in this moment to help achieve a common goal, simple, direct and marked with success.
Lesson two: My only job is to listen.
The aforementioned Israeli guy to my left taught me another lesson, though I don’t think if was the take away he wanted from me. He just wanted me to laugh at his jokes – which I did for a bit. He asks me about my documentary project in the Middle East and he immediately shares in lucid detail his sitcom idea going into lines and antics of the pilot episode – him acting out the characters on his show. For the first hour of the flight, I’m his audience. I was getting tired, and the lights were dimming – though he was revved up. After a couple more drinks, he was ready for his second set but I was ready for sleep. One way or another, we get into the subject of the Israeli army as his son is about to join – and here is where it gets interesting. His humor was not fully transferrable to the Israeli army, and when he did make jokes about it, it was at the expense of those in Gaza. A firm proponent that joining the army is a duty, though he also believed the world was created 6,000 years ago. I didn’t need to be provocative, I don’t need to debate, so even a little critical engagement on my part, led him to dig in more. Though his opinions are always under the cloak of humor, so how serious was he really? I don’t know.
But, I do know as I begin this interview process for the documentary, it’s clear that it is not my job to try to poke holes in things that may seem ridiculous to me, change anyone’s mind, or even to seem skeptical of a belief system that doesn’t align with my own. I only need to listen and to capture “what already is”. That’s enough. If this guy who loves to laugh is any indication for what’s to come, then it’s most important to stay open and receptive to hearing all different opinions/beliefs – even if I personally may not agree. When the plane landed in Athens for the layover, I tap him on his arm to wake up him. He opens up his eyes, extends his hand for a handshake, and he says “Go Trump” with a provocative wink as I collect my belongings.
Published from Athens, Greece
November 18th
Layover
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