Leitner Interns Blog: Hotline for MIgrant Workers, mid-summer thoughts.

מה המצב, אחי?

(translation: what's up, bro?)

I'm learning a lot these days, from Hebrew slang to Israeli politics to Jewish history. My Hebrew keeps improving, although my Israeli friends find it strange that I know the words for police, arrest, passport and refugee, etc, but I still can't remember the words for fork or t-shirt. Yesterday was Tisha B'Av, a fast day when religious Jews spend the day mourning for the loss of the Temple in Jerusalem, which was destroyed by the Romans in the year 70 AD. Although I don't personally feel a terrible sense of loss for the Temple, and I actually am glad that Judaism no longer is centered around animal sacrifice, it's still a day that engenders deep thought about Israel and Jewish history. For me, this meant some serious reflection on what I'm doing here this summer and how it fits in with my view of Israel.

I have visited the detention center where people with immigration problems are held 8 or 9 times now and it only seems to be getting more difficult. We're trying to do a basic interview with everyone who speaks English, Hebrew or French (since these are the languages that the volunteers know) about the conditions of their arrest and detainment so that we can eventually write up a report on the prison conditions and lobby for changes. But while we do this, the prisoners also want to tell us about how they got here, life in their home country, and where their families are. Mostly, they want us to be like lawyers and help get them out of there, and every time I have to say, “I'm so sorry but I can't do that,” it is so painful. The Hotline for Migrant Workers only has two lawyers though, so they pick cases carefully, usually only taking ones that can set precedent for many other future cases, or particularly egregious ones where the judge is most likely to side with us.

This summer is definitely testing my love for Israel. I decided to work in Tel Aviv, specifically, because I was thinking about possibly living here one day. But every day here I get exposed to the more difficult and darker side of the state. On the one hand, during my time off I get to see the country as a tourist would see it – visiting beaches, the old city of Yafo, the markets and religious sites, which are beautiful. But I'm also seeing what it's like for non-Jewish people coming here, not as tourists. There is literally no system in place for them. Would I really want to take advantage of a system that is designed to benefit people just like me at the expense of so many others? It would be easy for me to move here, as a Jew, and I would be welcomed by everyone right down to the woman who sells cheese in the shuk who is always asking if I made aliyah yet (which literally means to go up, but figuratively means to move to Israel). Meanwhile, people who really need Israel to act as a haven for them are imprisoned for years. However, there is another side of Zionism – seeing a vision of what I want Israel to be, and working to make it match this vision. In that way, this summer has made me more Zionistic. I see the problems, but I am not going to give up on the state and move on. I want to help in whatever way I can.

One really interesting and fun thing that I did last week was visit the Palestinian village of Beit Sahour, just outside of Bethlehem, with a group called Encounter. Encounter leads organized trips for Jews to visit the West Bank and meet with Palestinian peace activists, but this was different. Two women who had been involved with Encounter for the last couple years were returning to the USA and wanted to have a goodbye party in a place where their Palestinian friends would be free to go too. So we met at this park that used to be a Jordanian and then Israeli military outpost, but now is a community center with a restaurant, climbing walls, and a really beautiful view. One of the Jewish guests brought a bassoon and performed a duet with a Palestinian girl who played flute and is planning to study in a music conservatory next year in France. It was amazing, and I met some fascinating people, including an elderly Maltese nun who had worked in Bethlehem for 25 years, and a Palestinian woman who, as a teenager, had disguised herself as a boy to go along with her brother and his friends to hang Palestinian flags and spray-paint walls. Now she and her brother work for peace organizations in the West Bank and are regular speakers on Encounter trips.