This afternoon and evening, our Social Justice class at Pardes took a field trip to South Tel Aviv. Not for partying, not for fun, but to learn about asylum seekers, refugees, and victims of human trafficking.
Meesh, my teacher, asked Jean Marc, a Pardes alumnus and current human rights lawyer, to lead our tour today. Not only was he absolutely fabulous, explanatory, and great at answering questions, but I had also met him at Rachel Goldberg's house (she is our Judaism teacher on Sunday nights) when he popped in quickly to say hello. So it seems he is well networked in the Jerusalem area!
He introduced himself and the topic of the day on our bus ride to TA, so as not to waste any time once we arrived there. We all quickly introduced ourselves to explain where we come from and why we are interested in social justice, to help give him an idea of who we were as his audience. The first place we stopped at was an upscale furniture/home goods store which he said was the kind of place that would probably not be visited by anyone we were talking about today. Way too fancy for that. Lucky for me, dun dun dun...I recognized the guy sitting outside the store, who was Assaf, my guard on Birthright 2 years ago! So while my classmates were all inside perusing the items, I was catching up with him and telling him what I was doing here. It was great to see him, and I don't really think I needed to go inside the store anyway.
Our next stop was to the central bus station in Tel Aviv, which has many stores inside (similar to a mall, just like the Jerusalem bus station as well) that in some clusters, cater to specific populations. One of the floors we went through was very much so targeted at Southeast Asians who are in Israel for a multitude of reasons - forced or coerced labor, migrant workers, providing home care, or others seeking asylum here. There were shops selling phone cards to call Southeast Asian countries, stores with Southeast Asian staff (to lure in similar people); it seemed very intentional. I haven't spent all that much time in Tel Aviv, since I've been here, so I certainly haven't spent so much time at the bus station, let alone looking specifically at these stores, so it was very interesting to see how targeted it really was.
We left the bus station and sat down for a few minutes near a park/playground, where there were lots of Africans/Christians, who also are asylum seekers for many reasons. Either they come from countries that are wartorn and unsafe to live in, or they come here for economic reasons. Whatever the reason is, the point was that in south Tel Aviv, there aren't the same types of Jews as we've/I've seen in Jerusalem. These are all people who are not Jewish, who are coming to Israel, and who are not planning on being Jewish. It's a huge problem when you think about the numbers and statistics of non-Jews living in the Jewish homeland. If Israel lets in all these people (because oftentimes Israel is "the bigger person" trying to do "the right thing" for asylum seekers or other neglected populations), then a serious question arises: what is a Jewish homeland with a Jewish minority? We are supposed to be the majority here, but Israel is a democracy, the only one in the Middle East. Arabs who are citizens have the same rights as Jewish Israelis. There are Arabs in the Knesset/Parliament and at least one Arab who sits on the Supreme Court. Many Arabs serve in the Israeli army. If Israel keeps absorbing more Arabs, more Christians, more Africans, more Southeast Asians, the Jews will be a minority once again. What then, is the point of having a Jewish homeland?
Serious questions to ponder, through and through. Our next stop is to a pedestrian mall area that has a computer accessories store and Jean Marc knows the owner of the shop. He is a Darfurian refugee who came here about 4 years ago with his family (which includes 4 children) who is seeking asylum. He has had great difficulty in acclimating to this country and lifestyle and culture, but happy to at least be here temporarily. I asked him the question - would he go back to Darfur if the political situation (and safety) changed miraculously, or is he adjusted here in Israel well enough that he wouldn't want to uproot his family again. Without even blinking, he said he would want to go back. It gave me the impression that he has probably experienced a great deal of discrimination here, either because of his skin color, or the language barrier (he said he's learning Hebrew, and his children are all in schools where they learn Hebrew too), or because he is a refugee and not a full citizen, or because he isn't Jewish. I'm not sure if there is one reason to point to, but certainly he would prefer to be in his country with his people. I can't blame him.
We walked through the pedestrian mall area, which was really filled with all kinds of different looking people, mostly Southeast Asians and Africans, that I saw. I walked with Jean Marc through part of it, asking him some questions about the refugee situation, and mentioned that it didn't look so Israeli, but rather it looked very NYC. NYC has such a diverse population that I don't usually think twice about walking down a street with people of different skin colors or backgrounds or languages or cultures. I actually felt kind of at home on this street, that may have made some people feel very uncomfortable. I had no problem with it.
We got to the African Refugee Development Center (photo above) to meet two Rwandan refugees trying to gain refugee status in Israel due to an awful climate in Rwanda to which they cannot return. They have both seen all kinds of strife, including lots of blood and death and violence and abuse that thankfully I have never witnessed and hopefully never will. The first one, who for identity concealment I will call "H," told his story about how he got here, which included leaving Rwanda a few years ago, spending some amount of time in Egypt (it was unclear to me how long) which was excruciating and he endured some very tough times there, to say the least, before entering Israel, about which he cannot say enough good things. "Israelis are nice, Israel is nice, this place is so nice." All he wants is to gain refugee status so he can legally stay here (which grants him the privilege to work and therefore live here without fear of deportation), but because of the definition and semantics and politics of refugee status in this country, he has initially been rejected as a refugee because at one point he did have asylum in Egypt, which is not a war torn country like Rwanda. I can't blame Israel for trying to keep some people out (for the list of reasons they have) when, as a country, they have the right to say who is allowed in and who must leave, and for issues of majority/minority populations, etc. But hearing his story just made me feel for him so much. I had tears in my eyes multiple times when he was telling his story and answering questions afterward.
The power of a story. The power of one person. The power of the voice and the language. It just hit me like a ton of bricks that my life has been and probably will be ever so different from H. I will never know what it's like to be in his position. And the way he spoke about Israel and Israelis was so refreshing. "Someone bumps into you by mistake and says, 'slicha'/excuse me. Israelis are so nice." We all started laughing and said, "What kind of Israelis are you meeting?" We all know Israelis to be rude and pushy, because for the most part, in America, people are not like that. His experience here has been so vastly different.
He described this place as a paradise almost, which, I guess many people think, and I thought at some point. But living here, I've been fairly cynical and skeptical and critical, of a lot of things. I guess I have been kind of negative in my attitude toward a lot of aspects of Israeli society. Clearly America is not perfect; neither is life in NYC. But in the first few weeks of being here in a new city and a new country, I made my list of reasons why I could probably never live here, mostly in comparison to my life back home. Israelis are rude and pushy, the drivers are crazy, the Haredim disrespect and do not acknowledge other Jews as Jews, the country claims to be so green friendly when they don't recycle half the things I do back home, there is garbage and dog poop everywhere on the street, cats on every corner and in every dumpster, the language is hard to learn, and on top of all that, most of my family and friends are in NY so I probably won't even move very far from there let alone 6,000 miles away across an ocean. The list goes on and on. I think I've forgotten a little bit, what are the good things about being here (which include being in a Jewish majority and feeling very comfortable with that, people who do want to help you learn Hebrew if you put in the effort, fresh produce at the shuk/market and the grocery stores, babies everywhere, casual attire for work, in most cases a laid back atmosphere, getting to celebrate Shabbat every week without having to worry about leaving work early on a Friday) and also, how lucky I am to live the privileged life I've led.
The second refugee we met, who I will call "I," also had a compelling story to hear. He had also left Rwanda due to the civil war and also spent some time in Egypt on his way here. He saw blood an death and violence too, before arriving in Israel. His refugee status is slower in the process compared to H because he arrived later. He is also hoping to gain refugee status here so he can work legally and not fear that he will be taken by the police and/or deported.
The two of them live together, both have work, at least temporarily. I felt incredibly lucky to hear their personal stories and very moved by their honesty. H sent an email back to another student in the class who sent him some photos from the day via email. His message included the following: "I am very glad to read from you and I am very excited with our pictures, I am feeling like we are together again, it was my greatest day. I wish I can get chance to be meet all of u again, whenever and wherever. I pray alot so that I will be granted more days to live here in Israel so that maybe one day I can see you again. Thank you so much again, and with best wishes; God bless u."
My heart will continue to think about these two men who so bravely told us their stories to let us in to the world they know. I consider myself blessed to be living the life I have been living, as well as blessed to hear their stories which have enriched my life.
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