Ghana Part 3
When I walk down the street, all the little children cry “OBRUNI!" "white girl white, or white girl red!” Look mama, white girl, they cry. I giggle and say hello, trying hard to remember the difference in how to say “good morning,” “good afternoon,” and “good evening” in the local language. So far, all I have really mastered is eh-yeh, which means “I’m fine,” and “m-dasseh” which is thank you.
People call me and E sisters and if only one of us is around, they inevitably ask us where our sister is. Since her Ghanaian name is Yaa, like mine, they are thinking of calling me either “Yaa-Squared” or “Yaa Junior,” but I may opt for the warrior name that one of my co-workers gave me at the bank- Yaa Ofuriwaa.
I have a lot of fun at the bank job. People are always joking around, laughing, poking into our office to grab a drink from the fridge. I also do a good deal of directing, managing and teaching but this is made easier by the incredible patience of the people here. There is so much patience for tedious tasks here, no rushing or stress in the work place; it is inspiring! But it is also a necessity – here is a bank with no network, no internet and wads of cash stored in its safe. Messages and deposits are delivered by messengers to various branches. The water flows only sporadically and there is one bathroom for at least 30 staff. One of my favorite unusual features is that the men wear fancy suits, short, wide ties and pointy, leather shoes, but the women wear hand-tailored dresses made from yellow and green fabric featuring the insignia of the bank! They even had one made for my boss and offered me as well!
I brought some of the bank staff gifts from Israel; they are thrilled. They recognize my name from the Bible and are excited that I come from the Holy Land. Still, one guy looked at me – just after thanking me for my Jerusalem magnet - and said, “you know, you really shouldn’t be killing so many Palestinians.”
Yesterday I ventured alone to another village to visit the bank branch there. It was an adventure! I climbed aboard one of the shared taxi-vans and squeezed in between at least 15 other passengers. We passed endless jungle, tiny villages and saw the road lined with bright red jugs of palm oil. Along the way are signs encouraging safe driving, saying “A hug is waiting for you when you get home.” After about 40 minutes of bumping and squishing, I arrived in Nkawkaw (pronounced Incocoa) There, I met with the bank manager and director to help advance our project.
Around 3 o’clock, the manager asked if I was hungry. I was starving, but knew we had big dinner plans, so I asked for a snack. Peanut butter ground-nut soup? He offered. No way could I handle that! So we settled on fried yams. Within 15 minutes I was served up a plate of piping hot yams, accompanied by the crispy golden head of a fish. I had no idea how to eat it. I tried the cheeks, and sought meat from within the poor guy’s skull, but in the end I had to abandon the effort. The yams were great, tasted more like yucca or potato, and were served (*of course*) with a really spicy sauce. I ate this all with my hands, sitting among my coworkers on the corner of a desk within the main room of the bank.
After my snack, I shadowed one of the susu money collectors. The susu agents travel from stall to stall collecting money from all different businesses in the community. The money is deposited into the bank, for which the susu collector receives 2% commission. They are not the most reliable group and seem frequently to be sick. Still, I am having fun getting to know them and build a relationship with them. Many are female and most young, hoping to save money for school or their own families and businesses. From the few people I have talked to, it seems that saving money for higher education is a major priority.
I wandered through the Nkawkaw market with one susu collector. There was a man fixing near-ancient televisions and radios, a place to buy coal for cooking traditional foofoo dough (a popular dish made from plantain and maize flour.) There were spare parts, refrigerators, gas valves and tires, goats and an architects office, pottery, palm oil and huge swaths of fabric for less than 2 dollars. I took it all in. But there was also raw sewage flowing down open sewers along the sides of the streets and the smell of fried fish at stalls and on the shared taxi. Women and young children wander around everywhere advertising the goods that sit piled high upon their heads – oranges, water, chocolate milk, bananas…
After work, we get groceries for dinner and head home. When shopping, we need to keep very small change on hand. 10 cents is far more useful than 10 dollars. I wanted to buy a plastic water sachet the yesterday, but only had a 1 cede coin. The girl had no change. (1 cede is equivelent to 85 cents. The water cost 5.) We must also use very small change for our meals, which cost about 1 cede, for both of us. Coming home yesterday, we saw what I thought was a snake in front of our door. Turns out, it was an extraordinarily large (and dangerous) form of caterpillar or centipede. We shoved it away with a stick and ran inside.
Tonight we had our neighbors over for dinner. There are three teacher who live next door, guys about my age. They came by along with one of their girlfriends and P., our “small boy,” a 2-meter tall 18-year-old who helps out with cleaning and chores. The term “small boy” or “small girl” is somehow not demeaning. E is eager to learn to cook Ghanaian cuisine, so we loaded up with groceries from the one small stall in town. They prepared a spicy-hot fish stew with okra, green peppers, onions and garlic. The fish – head and all - was deep fried in bright red palm oil and then the vegetables (boiled first) were added in. This stew is served with a dough-like dish called Banku, which is made by mixing water, fermented corn meal, and plantain flour. It is then slowly worked into sticky paste over a coal fire. I watched in awe as our friend stirred it using all of her strength and body weight. She latched two metal rods to the side of the metal cauldrin, and used them to brace her feet against as she vigorously stirred the boiling goo. Foofoo is made the same way, but does not have the malted taste and smell of banku.
Dinner took around 2 hours to prepare. Each of us received a softball size serving of banku with fish and stew poured atop – and thus were expected to dine with our hands. The flavors were good, although the dough was a bit too fermented for me. The incredible spicyness precluded me from enjoying the meal. I will have to adapt – and fast.
We played around with a digital camera, posing and taking pictures. Then we talked politics a bit. I learned about Ghana’s political history and the latest elections, and we all shared in our unebbing enthusiasm over Obama’s win. We all agreed: it’s still hard to believe he is actually president.
For dessert, I served up some poprocks chocolate from Israel and watched in joy as our guests were shocked and then giggly over the sugary explosion in their mouths. They begged for more and took turns covering their ears to listen to the popping chocolate, and then leaning over to listen to the crackling of eachothers' mouths. I will have to bring more soon!
It was a wonderful evening; we all exchanged numbers and it feels great to be building a community here. My small boy already told me he will be sad when I leave and that we will have to email.
I reminded him – and myself – that this was only my third day in Ghana.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
Ghana, Part 2
These are pictures of my house and the bank where I work in Osino.
On Sunday, I got to see my work headquarters in Accra. We had lunch at a western-style restaurant featuring smoothies and paninis. Then, we headed to the grocery store – Lebanese owned – to buy provisions for the week. The store had lots of variety – foods from around the world ranging from matza farfel to laughing cow cheese to petit beurres cookies. We bought some cereal and cheese and headed on our way. (No matza this week.)
In the afternoon, we headed with our bags up to Osino. My boss warned me about the bus station in advance. The minute we stepped down from the taxi, we were accosted with people trying to help us find our way and carry our bags. We walked assertively, repeating that we knew where to go. We found our mini-van (a new, air-conditioned vehicle) and climbed aboard. While we waited about 20 minutes for the shared-taxi to fill, we were surrounded by people on all sides selling water, phone cards, ice cream and endless other snack foods. Most were women, carrying their goods on their heads, piled heavy and high. Still, they walked effortlessly and reached their arms through the van windows, enticing us to buy. I tried a frozen chocolate milk treat and filled up my phone with minutes.
Just before taking off, the driver put on a heavy winter coat – the air conditioning was apparently too cold for his tastes! We witnessed the same thing today at work when people inside the bank were bundled up in jackets despite the at least 80 degree weather.
The roads were incredibly bumpy. At first, we drove through herds of goats, but eventually we followed a single road through the jungle, thick trees, shrubs and vines on either side of us. Occasionally, we passed through a village with people loitering along the road. The women carried babies on their backs and water, fruits or other goods upon their head. I urgently needed the bathroom and was grateful when we stopped about 2 hours into the ride. Everyone poured out of the car, and women and men lined the side of the road, standing only 1 or 2 meters apart, and did their business. The women could even do it standing! I tried to go a bit down a path for privacy, but the men told me not to stray far.
When we got to the edge of Osino, E decided it was time for me try real Ghanaian food. I had heard of foofoo and ground nut soup so I ordered them, although I had no idea what they were. The foofoo was an enormous glob of sticky dough, made from ground cassava and plantains. The soup was poured on top – an oily and extremely spicy mixture of peanuts, red pepper and a few pieces of meat. The price was according to chunks of meat – each one cost about 80 cents. I got two, but had to ask several times for a better looking piece. The ones she served at first were covered with gristle and cow skin. Yes, thick, chewy looking cow skin.
E got plantains served with a spinach-like side dish, also very spicy. Meals here are eaten with your hands and on the table was soup, water and bowls for hand-washing. The food was certainly not bad. Very flavorful and hearty. But it was spicy and I couldn’t eat that much. With time, E assured me, I will get used to it! (Today’s lunch was much more basic – white rice, spicy red tomato paste called stew and a hard-boiled egg – all for 80 cents.)
After dinner, we hopped in a cab. The driver’s boss was nearby so we started talking with him. Turns out, he knows a Ghanaian man in the area who lived in Israel for 20 years. He said he will try to introduce us. The taxi driver himself was not a very good driver, so we had him let us down despite his pleas to help us more…
And thus, we arrived at my new home during the next 6 weeks! In the dark, off the side of the main street, we stumbled through the gates, around to the back entrance.
The house is huge. Really huge! There are wide open rooms with tile floors – a living room, a huge entry/greeting room that we don’t use, a kitchen, 3 bathrooms and at least 4 bedrooms. There is very little furniture and no hot water. We have a huge, unkempt yard filled with papaya trees. I may switch bedrooms to the far end of the house, but for now I am a room with a large bed, a night stand and a chair. The house is surrounded with thick walls, barbed wire (that is even electric) and a porch where we keep on the light at night. So for the audience at home, no need to worry!
The internet is working better than I thought, although I can’t skype or talk on gchat, I can check my emails and occasionally (slowly!) the news. Putting up this blog may take a while…
These are pictures of my house and the bank where I work in Osino.
On Sunday, I got to see my work headquarters in Accra. We had lunch at a western-style restaurant featuring smoothies and paninis. Then, we headed to the grocery store – Lebanese owned – to buy provisions for the week. The store had lots of variety – foods from around the world ranging from matza farfel to laughing cow cheese to petit beurres cookies. We bought some cereal and cheese and headed on our way. (No matza this week.)
In the afternoon, we headed with our bags up to Osino. My boss warned me about the bus station in advance. The minute we stepped down from the taxi, we were accosted with people trying to help us find our way and carry our bags. We walked assertively, repeating that we knew where to go. We found our mini-van (a new, air-conditioned vehicle) and climbed aboard. While we waited about 20 minutes for the shared-taxi to fill, we were surrounded by people on all sides selling water, phone cards, ice cream and endless other snack foods. Most were women, carrying their goods on their heads, piled heavy and high. Still, they walked effortlessly and reached their arms through the van windows, enticing us to buy. I tried a frozen chocolate milk treat and filled up my phone with minutes.
Just before taking off, the driver put on a heavy winter coat – the air conditioning was apparently too cold for his tastes! We witnessed the same thing today at work when people inside the bank were bundled up in jackets despite the at least 80 degree weather.
The roads were incredibly bumpy. At first, we drove through herds of goats, but eventually we followed a single road through the jungle, thick trees, shrubs and vines on either side of us. Occasionally, we passed through a village with people loitering along the road. The women carried babies on their backs and water, fruits or other goods upon their head. I urgently needed the bathroom and was grateful when we stopped about 2 hours into the ride. Everyone poured out of the car, and women and men lined the side of the road, standing only 1 or 2 meters apart, and did their business. The women could even do it standing! I tried to go a bit down a path for privacy, but the men told me not to stray far.
When we got to the edge of Osino, E decided it was time for me try real Ghanaian food. I had heard of foofoo and ground nut soup so I ordered them, although I had no idea what they were. The foofoo was an enormous glob of sticky dough, made from ground cassava and plantains. The soup was poured on top – an oily and extremely spicy mixture of peanuts, red pepper and a few pieces of meat. The price was according to chunks of meat – each one cost about 80 cents. I got two, but had to ask several times for a better looking piece. The ones she served at first were covered with gristle and cow skin. Yes, thick, chewy looking cow skin.
E got plantains served with a spinach-like side dish, also very spicy. Meals here are eaten with your hands and on the table was soup, water and bowls for hand-washing. The food was certainly not bad. Very flavorful and hearty. But it was spicy and I couldn’t eat that much. With time, E assured me, I will get used to it! (Today’s lunch was much more basic – white rice, spicy red tomato paste called stew and a hard-boiled egg – all for 80 cents.)
After dinner, we hopped in a cab. The driver’s boss was nearby so we started talking with him. Turns out, he knows a Ghanaian man in the area who lived in Israel for 20 years. He said he will try to introduce us. The taxi driver himself was not a very good driver, so we had him let us down despite his pleas to help us more…
And thus, we arrived at my new home during the next 6 weeks! In the dark, off the side of the main street, we stumbled through the gates, around to the back entrance.
The house is huge. Really huge! There are wide open rooms with tile floors – a living room, a huge entry/greeting room that we don’t use, a kitchen, 3 bathrooms and at least 4 bedrooms. There is very little furniture and no hot water. We have a huge, unkempt yard filled with papaya trees. I may switch bedrooms to the far end of the house, but for now I am a room with a large bed, a night stand and a chair. The house is surrounded with thick walls, barbed wire (that is even electric) and a porch where we keep on the light at night. So for the audience at home, no need to worry!
The internet is working better than I thought, although I can’t skype or talk on gchat, I can check my emails and occasionally (slowly!) the news. Putting up this blog may take a while…
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
On War and Pizza
Well, well. I have two papers due tomorrow, so what better way to procrastinate than write about what's really on my mind...
Everyone I know it seems - right, left, Jewish, Christian, Atheist, Arab, French, Floridian, New Yorker, Hippie, Relatives and Strangers - all seem to want to (a) share their opinion about the war and (b) hear mine.
Well, mine changes from day to day, but why not put today's perspective into words.
I am scared, of course, about the response that I may get from this blog, or - worse yet - that I may down the line regret the very words I wrote. But doing things I might regret letter never stopped me in college, so why start now! Besides, risks have truly led to some of the best experiences of my life. So here goes.
Every day I get new information. Today, Israel was attacked again by three rockets from the north. I am praying that a war doesn't start on the northern front.
And then, on the other side, Israel made some grave decisions that I can't quite understand or place into my way of thinking. Cognitive Dissonance strikes again. Why, for example, did the Israeli Parliament ban 2 Arab parties from running in the next election? (A decision, which the ISRAELI Supreme Court will end up overturning, but still...) It strikes me as blatantly undemocratic, regardless of the inflammatory nature of some of the comments made by Arab ministers in the past few weeks. And why, I might add, is Israel using white phosphorus - a chemical that burns in contact with oxygen and whose use in civilian areas is banned?
That being said, I am supporting this war as a concept. I think Israel had and has a right to defend itself and respond to the thousands rockets that have fallen on us over the past 10 years. I also understand the decision of Hammas to fire qassam/grad rockets on us in response to the siege we've placed on the Palestinians living there. In 1967, when Egypt put a siege on us, we responded with violence. That's what countries do in order to defend themselves...
As far as the war is concerned...it's been a weird feeling for me - to be supportive of a war. The liberal inside me is screaming in confusion, but as I try and read, listen, and think about it from so many ways... well.
Basically I've come to this: Israel completely left Gaza 3 years ago - military and residents pulled out. Since then, Sderot and other southern cities and towns have been under constant threat of rocket fire. Israel has barely if at all responded to these attacks - something I think no other country would do. Even during the 6 month so-called cease fire, Gazan militants fired qassams at Israel. Right after the cease fire ended, we were hit with 70+ rockets in one day!
In a perfect world, we would all be able to sit around and have diplomatic conversations. I so wish it could be that way. But Hamas clearly calls for Israel's destruction - entirely - so what impetus do they have to talk to us? It is easy enough for them to stop the war and the siege. If they are concerned about their people, they can stop attacking us. Period. They'll get more water, supplies, trade, open borders - we could advance talks of statehood. But how can Israel open borders and lower our level of security when Israeli citizens are being attacked: randomly and regularly?
I do believe that the purpose of a government is to keep order and protect its citizens. For many years, the Israeli government has not been doing that for the residents of southern Israel. They have a responsibility to act. That's the way governments work, and sadly, in our current world, violence is the universal language.
Furthermore, I am frustrated, extremely, by the whole world's seeming obsession with this issue. Where is the anger. the interest. the obsession. when it comes to: Georgia? Darfur? Ivory Coast? Chechnya? Congo? Kurdistan?
The numbers here in Israel/Palestine are much less significant, and the situation so complex that even living here it is near-impossible to figure out what to believe. The protests against Israel in Europe seem to be so laced with cruelty, hatred, and a general disdain/regret for Israels very existence. I can understand why people who don't want Israel to exist would also be against this war... but for people with attachments here, I feel that ignoring the qassams amounts to an existential threat for this country.
All this being said - I am sad about the war. I am sad about children dying, about people having no where to go. The lack of supplies. (although we do have a THREE HOUR daily cease-fire to get aid into Gaza during which they continue to launch rockets at Israel)
I want it to end. today, if not so, then tomorrow. but I want the end to mean a real ceasefire. on both sides. My friend Emily put it best: "Everyone just wants to be able to go home at night and order a pizza."
May it be so...
Well, well. I have two papers due tomorrow, so what better way to procrastinate than write about what's really on my mind...
Everyone I know it seems - right, left, Jewish, Christian, Atheist, Arab, French, Floridian, New Yorker, Hippie, Relatives and Strangers - all seem to want to (a) share their opinion about the war and (b) hear mine.
Well, mine changes from day to day, but why not put today's perspective into words.
I am scared, of course, about the response that I may get from this blog, or - worse yet - that I may down the line regret the very words I wrote. But doing things I might regret letter never stopped me in college, so why start now! Besides, risks have truly led to some of the best experiences of my life. So here goes.
Every day I get new information. Today, Israel was attacked again by three rockets from the north. I am praying that a war doesn't start on the northern front.
And then, on the other side, Israel made some grave decisions that I can't quite understand or place into my way of thinking. Cognitive Dissonance strikes again. Why, for example, did the Israeli Parliament ban 2 Arab parties from running in the next election? (A decision, which the ISRAELI Supreme Court will end up overturning, but still...) It strikes me as blatantly undemocratic, regardless of the inflammatory nature of some of the comments made by Arab ministers in the past few weeks. And why, I might add, is Israel using white phosphorus - a chemical that burns in contact with oxygen and whose use in civilian areas is banned?
That being said, I am supporting this war as a concept. I think Israel had and has a right to defend itself and respond to the thousands rockets that have fallen on us over the past 10 years. I also understand the decision of Hammas to fire qassam/grad rockets on us in response to the siege we've placed on the Palestinians living there. In 1967, when Egypt put a siege on us, we responded with violence. That's what countries do in order to defend themselves...
As far as the war is concerned...it's been a weird feeling for me - to be supportive of a war. The liberal inside me is screaming in confusion, but as I try and read, listen, and think about it from so many ways... well.
Basically I've come to this: Israel completely left Gaza 3 years ago - military and residents pulled out. Since then, Sderot and other southern cities and towns have been under constant threat of rocket fire. Israel has barely if at all responded to these attacks - something I think no other country would do. Even during the 6 month so-called cease fire, Gazan militants fired qassams at Israel. Right after the cease fire ended, we were hit with 70+ rockets in one day!
In a perfect world, we would all be able to sit around and have diplomatic conversations. I so wish it could be that way. But Hamas clearly calls for Israel's destruction - entirely - so what impetus do they have to talk to us? It is easy enough for them to stop the war and the siege. If they are concerned about their people, they can stop attacking us. Period. They'll get more water, supplies, trade, open borders - we could advance talks of statehood. But how can Israel open borders and lower our level of security when Israeli citizens are being attacked: randomly and regularly?
I do believe that the purpose of a government is to keep order and protect its citizens. For many years, the Israeli government has not been doing that for the residents of southern Israel. They have a responsibility to act. That's the way governments work, and sadly, in our current world, violence is the universal language.
Furthermore, I am frustrated, extremely, by the whole world's seeming obsession with this issue. Where is the anger. the interest. the obsession. when it comes to: Georgia? Darfur? Ivory Coast? Chechnya? Congo? Kurdistan?
The numbers here in Israel/Palestine are much less significant, and the situation so complex that even living here it is near-impossible to figure out what to believe. The protests against Israel in Europe seem to be so laced with cruelty, hatred, and a general disdain/regret for Israels very existence. I can understand why people who don't want Israel to exist would also be against this war... but for people with attachments here, I feel that ignoring the qassams amounts to an existential threat for this country.
All this being said - I am sad about the war. I am sad about children dying, about people having no where to go. The lack of supplies. (although we do have a THREE HOUR daily cease-fire to get aid into Gaza during which they continue to launch rockets at Israel)
I want it to end. today, if not so, then tomorrow. but I want the end to mean a real ceasefire. on both sides. My friend Emily put it best: "Everyone just wants to be able to go home at night and order a pizza."
May it be so...
Friday, January 02, 2009
For those of you who are worried about the war, here is a public service update:
Things are okay here. What is going on is about an hour south of where I am, which seems close, I know, but in Israel an hour is really far away. We still go to parties, eat out, go to work, go to weddings, stress about bills and buses: life as usual.
How the war (thus far) affects my life:
*There are certain arab-israeli neighborhoods that I won't travel in now, especially in Jerusalem. (examples for those who know: I am not using Route 443, or going to Yaffo and Beit Hanina these days. There has been some throwing of molotive cocktails that I would rather avoid.)
*I am trying not to take buses as much and will start taking the car (!)(!!!) to school.
*We have signed up to host Israeli families from near the gaza border so they can be safe from the bombings
*A few acquaintances of mine are being called up for reserve duty, especially people in the airforce For others I know who are in the army right now, they've shifted location...
*The news is always on, and people sort of have a general air of concern and extreme interest in the news. I"ve been having some very heated debates and keep getting invited to protests both for and against the war. (I am opting out of both.)
*I would say that tensions are a bit higher between myself and my arab friends, but not to an extreme extent - more like a general awkward feeling.
Anyway, as I said, it's life as usual for now.
Will keep you posted.
Also, for those of you who don't know, I am headed to Ghana on January 24th for an internship with a non profit! Very excited!
Rach
Things are okay here. What is going on is about an hour south of where I am, which seems close, I know, but in Israel an hour is really far away. We still go to parties, eat out, go to work, go to weddings, stress about bills and buses: life as usual.
How the war (thus far) affects my life:
*There are certain arab-israeli neighborhoods that I won't travel in now, especially in Jerusalem. (examples for those who know: I am not using Route 443, or going to Yaffo and Beit Hanina these days. There has been some throwing of molotive cocktails that I would rather avoid.)
*I am trying not to take buses as much and will start taking the car (!)(!!!) to school.
*We have signed up to host Israeli families from near the gaza border so they can be safe from the bombings
*A few acquaintances of mine are being called up for reserve duty, especially people in the airforce For others I know who are in the army right now, they've shifted location...
*The news is always on, and people sort of have a general air of concern and extreme interest in the news. I"ve been having some very heated debates and keep getting invited to protests both for and against the war. (I am opting out of both.)
*I would say that tensions are a bit higher between myself and my arab friends, but not to an extreme extent - more like a general awkward feeling.
Anyway, as I said, it's life as usual for now.
Will keep you posted.
Also, for those of you who don't know, I am headed to Ghana on January 24th for an internship with a non profit! Very excited!
Rach
What do Bachelorette Parties, Jewish Youth Groups and War Have in Common?
Last night I went to my first bachelorette party in Israel. I had no idea what to expect - had to ask for advice on what to wear, what to write in the card, etc. And, well, apparently I didn't ask for quite enough advice because I didn't know that most people would be bringing gifts...
I also didn't realize that the party was not in a club, but rather in a hall dedicated to singing along to classic Jewish and Israeli songs. Ironically, I was reminded of the beer halls in Munich. The 20 of us sat at long wooden tables and were handed tambourines. We ordered food which seemed very secondary to the occasion. No one ate it, and the pitiful service proved that the music was the draw to this packed establishment.
Groups of people were crammed in wall to wall, celebrating birthdays, anniversaries and engagements. Up front, on a simple platform, we were entertained and motivated by an energetic Israeli singer accompanied by a gy on a Yamaha-style keyboard. The accompanist showed no restraint in putting on those cheesy background rhythms (disco, salsa, harpsichord deluxe) and the crowd went wild.
Women, men, old (like us) and older danced on the tables, on the chairs. You could forget the cheesiness of it all because the crowd was simply eating it up. Everyone was singing, no one noticed that their food was still frozen or cared that their salad hadn't arrived. Mayaan (the bride) danced from table to table and the "song leader" made sure to highlight the occasions and celebrations throughout the crowd.
On my part, it was great to meet some of the people who will be at the wedding; for once I won't know only Ori and the bride and groom!
But the surprising part of the evening was how many of the songs I knew. Thank you to U.S.Y. (my jewish youth group.) THere we were, in a established venue dancing on tables and chairs just as we had during sabbath "ruach" (spirit) sessions as teenagers. I found myself singing the same songs, with the same exuberance, and yet here I was three continents across the globe in a bar filled with non-kosher food and alcoholic beverages. Moments like these spur warm, fuzzy feelings of Jewish unity: Israelis - with ancestry in Europe, Russia, the Middle East, and North Africa know the U.S.Y songs! I was elated.
On a more somber note, a table next to us had driven up from the south where they are spending too much time in bomb shelters these days. The leader promised them an "explosive evening" (roaring laughter) and then sang a song we all know - whose words remind us that "the world is a narrow bridge, and that the important thing is not to be afraid!"
As narrow as this bridge is, I feel oddly un-affected by the war. We are talking about it, reading about, debating about it, but it's life as usual here in Tel Aviv. How narrow is that bridge?
Last night I went to my first bachelorette party in Israel. I had no idea what to expect - had to ask for advice on what to wear, what to write in the card, etc. And, well, apparently I didn't ask for quite enough advice because I didn't know that most people would be bringing gifts...
I also didn't realize that the party was not in a club, but rather in a hall dedicated to singing along to classic Jewish and Israeli songs. Ironically, I was reminded of the beer halls in Munich. The 20 of us sat at long wooden tables and were handed tambourines. We ordered food which seemed very secondary to the occasion. No one ate it, and the pitiful service proved that the music was the draw to this packed establishment.
Groups of people were crammed in wall to wall, celebrating birthdays, anniversaries and engagements. Up front, on a simple platform, we were entertained and motivated by an energetic Israeli singer accompanied by a gy on a Yamaha-style keyboard. The accompanist showed no restraint in putting on those cheesy background rhythms (disco, salsa, harpsichord deluxe) and the crowd went wild.
Women, men, old (like us) and older danced on the tables, on the chairs. You could forget the cheesiness of it all because the crowd was simply eating it up. Everyone was singing, no one noticed that their food was still frozen or cared that their salad hadn't arrived. Mayaan (the bride) danced from table to table and the "song leader" made sure to highlight the occasions and celebrations throughout the crowd.
On my part, it was great to meet some of the people who will be at the wedding; for once I won't know only Ori and the bride and groom!
But the surprising part of the evening was how many of the songs I knew. Thank you to U.S.Y. (my jewish youth group.) THere we were, in a established venue dancing on tables and chairs just as we had during sabbath "ruach" (spirit) sessions as teenagers. I found myself singing the same songs, with the same exuberance, and yet here I was three continents across the globe in a bar filled with non-kosher food and alcoholic beverages. Moments like these spur warm, fuzzy feelings of Jewish unity: Israelis - with ancestry in Europe, Russia, the Middle East, and North Africa know the U.S.Y songs! I was elated.
On a more somber note, a table next to us had driven up from the south where they are spending too much time in bomb shelters these days. The leader promised them an "explosive evening" (roaring laughter) and then sang a song we all know - whose words remind us that "the world is a narrow bridge, and that the important thing is not to be afraid!"
As narrow as this bridge is, I feel oddly un-affected by the war. We are talking about it, reading about, debating about it, but it's life as usual here in Tel Aviv. How narrow is that bridge?
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