the exile within

I love that moment when you know that this person in front of you, walking into your life, is going to be a friend. It’s one of those things making life so worthwhile, so precious. These last 2.5 months in Israel have blessed me with many such moments. When two people carve out a space in their schedule to meet, one-on-one, eye-to-eye; it can be a risk, as well as an effort. More often than not, it is doubly rewarding. You let someone in, you find something out. The day after, you smile thinking about your encounter. You wonder what other things you might come to share, what other times you will spend together. 

I’m sitting with a new friend upstairs in a tiny candle-lit bar in Florentine that feels like the only warm place in Tel Aviv. It’s cold outside. Really cold. “Houses in this country are just not built for this kind of weather, of course. All stripped floors, no isolation. It’s really horrible, I’m so glad it’s so warm here.” Neil Young is crooning over the stereo and my friend is flicking her cigarettes at the makeshift beer mat ashtrays that replaced the proper ones when the ban on smoking in public rooms came into effect a few weeks back. Still smoking, but no ashtrays. A markedly Israeli implementation of the law. 

“I don’t know how she got the permit. No one gets it now. They even gave her an overnight stay in Jerusalem, which is really rare. I guess because she’s affiliated with a Human Rights organisation they don’t want to make a big fuss.” 

“Has she ever been to Jerusalem before?”

“Um, I don’t know. You know, it’s her only 2 days out of that fucking prison, I figured I’d let her choose what to do. So she said she wanted to go to Jerusalem, and then to Ramallah. I had to put my foot down - I mean, Ramallah? Do you realise how many hours we’d have to spend in checkpoints, in this fucking cold? Every time having to explain why she can travel out of Gaza in the first place? No. That is not going to happen. But we’ll spend a day in Tel Aviv too.”

H is a Human Rights activist about to receive special training from my friend in Jerusalem. She lives in Gaza. Because of the recent Israeli fuel cuts to the power station there, most Gazans now suffer 8-10 hour blackouts a day. There is also a tight curfew on all imports and exports, especially building materials and electronics, so many businesses have been out of pocket for months now. 

“I mean, she is one the lucky ones of course. She has a job and everything. There are worse things happening in the world - but this is just - the injustice is amazing. The punishment. That people don’t have electricity 10 hours a day - you can’t do anything! You just sit there at home, freezing your ass off, doing nothing. Just waiting. You would otherwise, I don’t know, go to the gym or something, coz there is one, but it’s no use because there’s no power so it’s closed, like everything else. You can’t work. You can’t go anywhere on vacation. You’re just caged in.”

Later, in the car on the way back to Jaffa, I hit the wheel in frustration. “Arrrrgh!”

“Hey, listen, just don’t let yourself stay in that situation too long. You will only come out heartbroken and wasted.”

“No, I’m not talking about the guy. It’s H. That they decide how many fucking hours she can spend inside Israel - that she has to get a taste of what life should look like then go back to absolute desperation - it just boils my blood. It’s so uncalled for, so unnatural.”

“I know. It’s a disgrace. It’s just a fucking disgrace.”