the exile within

At 12:17 I board the train to Haifa where my sister is picking me up in her car. She lives nearby in a Druze village called Ussafiye. The Druze are historically a mountain-dwelling religious sect from the areas known today as Syria and Lebanon. They practise a reformed version of Islam, following the Quran as well as their own esoteric spiritual traditions. It is said by some that they are descendants of Jethro, Moses’ father-in-law who helped the Hebrews out of Egypt. Their spiritual inclusivity as expressed in their appreciation of many different prophets and philosophies seems to be matched by their ethnic exclusivity - they do not intermarry or accept converts. In Israel, the 100,000 Druze population is famous for its disproportionately large representation in commanding posts as well as war casualties in the Israeli Defence Force. Unlike Christian and Muslim Arab Palestinians, the Druze maintain a special affinity with the Jewish administration that is sometimes referred to as a “covenant of blood”. Being the only non-Jewish community to be drafted in the army, Druze soldiers are often the only Arabic-speakers manning the checkpoints in the West Bank. Most Palestinians I meet express some form of distrust towards the Druze, but I have yet to hear from the other side. 

I love Dutch trains. Israeli trains are Dutch-imported which is great news for me because it means very tall and spacious compartments. Apparently, however, the distance between the wheels is slightly bigger than the width of the original Israeli tracks. Someone was probably cutting corners, and now it’s a matter of time until the whole system will need replacing. The train is almost full but I find a seat next to a couple of soldiers in green uniform. I take out my Arabic exercise book. The M16 of the soldier sitting next to me is swaying with the train’s movements, now pointing at my knee and then at the floor again. I think of saying something but then decide to just move my leg and trust that he knows what he’s doing. He bends over to my seat. “You’re studying Arabic, eh?”.

“Yeah, spoken Arabic. I’m taking a course in Jerusalem.”

“That is very good, very very good.” He says with a perfect Jewish accent. 

“You speak Arabic?”

“Well, yes, here and there.” His accent has changed and is now distinctly Arab. His friend sitting next to him leans forward and laughs. “He’s just pulling your leg, what an asshole. Don’t listen to him.” I look back at the first soldier with amused disdain. He says, “here, here, come and sit next to this guy. He’s a special Arabic teacher, he will teach you everything. You don’t need all these papers. Just ask him, he is the best Arabic teacher.”

I chuckle and change seats with the soldier next to me, and let his older friend review my exercises. He corrects some spelling: “you see, this is a Ka, not a Qa.” I notice the “Israeli Police” patch fastened onto both their sleeves. “So where are you going now?”, I ask. 

“Walla, we’re going home. Enough, how much can you work.” They are both from Druze villages in the North.

“And what do you do, where do you serve?”

“In Jerusalem. We’re in the Border Police. You know, the guys that do the beatings.”

He isn’t joking. Given that Israel is in fact one of the only states in the world that does not have clearly defined borders, these guys’ jobs is to secure the streets of Jerusalem and several West Bank cities, as well as Arab towns and villages within Israel. Their official business is thwarting terrorist attacks. They do patrols, arrests, and infamously brutal riot control, for example in the October riots of 2000 in which 12 Israeli Arab citizens were killed while demonstrating solidarity with the Palestinian national cause, following the beginning of the second Intifada. The uprising began in September that year, following Ariel Sharon’s provoking visit to Temple Mount. Famously, he said that it was a legitimate part of the Israeli state and there was no reason why he shouldn’t be able to go there. Some 4 million Palestinians obviously thought otherwise. 

“Yes, of course”, I say, and smile knowingly.