Just Let It L'Chhhappen : 2015

Well, it's been a while since I posted. I admit I've fallen off the wagon. I'm trying to do a big push learning hebrew (don't ask me how it's going...), and anytime I have free time I try to focus on that. But here are a bunch of photos with some commentary for your viewing pleasure.

First dinner in Nairobi, with a "Tusker" Beer. I'm working on a few big projects in Kenya so I've been traveling there quite a bit.

Coke in Kenya. In general, I absolutely loved Nairobi. The city felt very safe, and the people were kind. Even outside the city, I was surprised at how little trash there was along the road, compared to Nigeria. People seem to take pride in their country.

I had a free Saturday so I hired a driver to take me to Hell's Gate National Park. This is the Rift Valley at sunrise

Hell's Gate park is not only the landscape that inspired the movie The Lion King, but it also is one of the few Big Game parks in the world that allows mountain biking! (No lions or tigers in this park...)

Lion King Scenery

It was early morning so all the animals were out and about! Here is a pack of zebras

Some friendly chimps coming to ask for food. When I was sitting at a picnic table later on, a chimp swooped out of nowhere as soon as I looked away and snatched all my bananas!

The gorge of Hell's gate was flooded because it was the beginning of the rainy season. There were some areas where I needed to swim!

The end of the gorge, "The Devil's Bedroom"

Climbing out of the Gorge

Overlook of the gorge

I also took a boat on Lake Naivasha, and saw a lot of hippos and flamingos!

Farms scattered across the Rift Valley in the early evening on the way back to Nairobi.

Our biggest project is in Elgeyo Marakwet county, which is an incredibly beautiful area that, although very narrow, spans from highlands down rocky escarpment to valley. I toured the area and got to see a bunch of kids doing gravity-defying dives into the river.

We visited a mango farmer in Elgeyo Marakwet. His cows LOVE mangos!

Bon Appetit!

View of Elgeyo Marakwet from the highlands of the county. The county is also the home of many Kenyan running champions. There are a number of theories why so many world-class runners come from this small area, from genetics, to culture, to the elevation. One thing is for sure - everyone here runs. All day, the roads are filled with runners. The kids here don't grow up playing basketball or soccer - they just run, with the dreams of becoming a world champion too.

It's always fun running into adorable old ladies who look like my grandma, protesting against Israel's policies. The sign translation is: "Enough of the occupation."

Typical Africa.

On another trip to Kenya I gave a presentation at a conference in Baringo County. It was very far from the beaten path, so my room had a mosquito net around the bed! There weren't many mosquitos, but I still used it just for the novelty!

A photo of me making the presentation. The Speaker of Parliament (#3 behind the President and Vice President) and many governors were in the audience!

Just some ostriches chillaxing outside of the hotel. This area is absolutely gorgeous.

The evening entertainment at the conference was a local tribal performance, and a few of us joined the dancing.

At the equator. A storeowner nearby demonstrated the different magnetic pulls by pouring water into a bowl with a hole at the bottom. On each side, the water spiraled in a different direction.

Adi and I rented a car recently and drove up to Jerusalem for the day. Here is a photo of us at the western wall.

Hiking in the hills around Jerusalem. This is an ancient spring called Sataf - really beautiful.

Views from Sataf

My other work trip was to Uganda. This photo is in Kampala, with Lake Victoria in the background!

Another view of Kampala - a beautiful city.

The source of the Nile River from Lake Victoria.

My friend Stephen recently visited me over Passover to hike the "Sea to Sea" trail, a 4 day trek from the Mediterranean to the Sea of Galilee. But we also managed to have some fun in Tel Aviv too. This was in Yafo, at a funky bar with a live band.

I've been getting some killer shots of the sunset on my bikeride home from work. On this day, it had been pouring rain all day, and it finally stopped just in time for my ride home -- and for this beautiful sunset.

On the third day of the trail, Stephen and I at one point lost the trail markers and found ourselves at the edge of this giant gorge. We couldn't imagine the trail would be this hardcore, especially since there were hundreds of 12-year-old Israeli students doing the trail alongside us. Sure enough the trail actually went another way. But by the time we realized our mistake, we were already in a tough spot and it would have been even more dangerous to climb back down, especially with the heavy backpacks. So we climbed up the face and got back to the trail safely. But it was pretty damn extreme nonetheless. Even now as I look at this photo, my palms are sweating and my heart is beating.

Another shot of my death-defying climb. From this angle it looks worse than it was...

Yom Hazikaron and Yom Ha'atzmaut are really moving holidays, one after the other. On Yom Hazikaron, Memorial Day, there are big ceremonies in every town and village. We went to the one in Rabin Square, where they alternated between video interviews with parents of fallen soldiers and music by Israel's best musicians. Nearly everyone here has lost someone close, and everyone knows someone who has lost a child. But then on Yom Ha'atzmaut, the mood completely shifts from somber to cheerful as the country celebrates its Independence Day. This was a street party in the evening - it was insane!

Adi and I went to the protests on policy brutality and discrimination against the Ethiopian community. We left before the police began firing tear gas and stun grenades, but it was still powerful to be there. These Ethiopian Jews were brought by the government to Israel, and then have since been largely neglected. As they protest, they wave Israeli flags. Israeli government and Israeli society has a responsibility to treat them with equality.

Another sweet sunset on the ride home from work.

At the top of Mount Meron, the second-highest peak in Israel. On a clear day, you can see all the way to Jordan in the East, and Lebanon in the north.

This is on Day 2 of the trek. We met some really cool people along the way. But there was one really negative incident that really stuck with me. On the first day, we stopped at one of the many springs along the trail and struck up a conversation with some girls who had recently finished the army and were now studying in university. It was a big spring, and a bunch of families and young people were lounging around - mostly Jewish but also a few Arabs. Then, a young Arab boy, maybe 3 years old, slipped and fell into the water and starting screaming and flailing against the current. His older sister, who was probably 5, cried for help, and within just a few seconds a few Israeli dads ran over and one hoisted the child out of the water. But in that short time frame, one of the Israeli girls sitting with us, began pointing and laughing loudly. After the boy was safely out of the water, his sister scolded the girl in Arabic, and the girl began laughing at her too. It was sickening. Laughing at a small child as he drowns. That, ladies and gentlemen, is racism. And seeing it displayed by my own people, which happens all too often here, makes it even more heart-wrenching.

The final day of the trek. We can see the Sea of Galilee in the distance! The trek was stunning, and we met some wonderful people along the way.

Yafo is one of my favorite places to go on the weekend. Part of the municipality of modern Tel Aviv, the ancient port city is full of lore. It hosts the church where St. Peter had a dream in which God told him Christians could eat all foods, marking a historic dietary split from Judaism. It is also the place where Jonah set off on his Biblical journey.

Adi and I like to ride our bikes starting from my place, through the funky, artsy neighborhood of Neve Tzedek, which reminds me of the Marigny in New Orleans. We arrive at the beach, and then gradually approach Yafo along the water. We pedal through the spacious Charles Clore Park, and then fight through the throngs of people crowding around the street performers, the beach-goers, the soccer players. Sometimes that's as far as we go; there are huge palm trees at the park that provide natural shade and comfortable grass, just above the crowded sand, where we practice Hebrew or read or write, take a dip in the warm Mediterranean, and repeat.

If we continue, we eventually hit the brick lane which flanks the village along the water. The winding cobbled streets are lined with cafes and restaurants. The ancient stone steps climb upward to a central square, all beige and gray sandstone, with gorgeous lookout points of Tel Aviv to the North. It's easy to get lost in the high-walled, meandering alleyways.

The Jewish Shuk (market) is closed on Shabbat, and so is Abu Hasan, which is widely considered to be the best Hummus joint this side of Akko. But most of the Arab shops are open. At the port down below, there is a festive artisan market with Israeli craftsman selling their handmade wares. Music fills ours ears from the live band.

Because of its large Arab population and proximity to the shore, Yafo is the place to get fresh shellfish. Irreverent Israelis crowd around the little seafood joints and dockside bars (queuing is anathema to Israeli culture). They impatiently shout in Hebrew for their fried calamari, shrimp, and St. Peter's Fish, while the cooks shout back just as loudly. You can get a big plate of fish and fries, plus a beer, for around 30 shekels (8 bucks) which is simply unheard of in Israel.

I munch down on everything. Adi eats some fries and an apple. She's not kosher, but she's never eaten pork or shellfish before and can't bring herself to try. (Many Israelis are like this, actually - not religiously Kosher, but Kosher by tradition). Still, Adi knows how much I love this stuff, and how it reminds me of home, so she doesn't give me any grief.

Eventually we say, "Takshitim," which is the Hebrew word for "jewelry." I accidentally said this once instead of "Tamshikhi," the word for "Continue," and Adi loved it so much that it became an inside joke between us. :) Anyway, we continue, beyond the port to the expansive, beautiful Midron Yafo Park.

The views are unreal. Against the calm dark blue of the Mediterranean Sea, the green grass seems brighter than grass should be. People sit picnicking on blankets on the sharply sloping hills overlooking the water. A big Arab family sits barbecuing under an awning, while a big Jewish family is barbecuing nearby under the trees.

The playgrounds are full of children running and laughing. Mothers and fathers with strollers stand around the perimeter, smiling and soaking up the sun.

I hear Arabic out of one ear and Hebrew out of the other ear.

I see Arabic children and Jewish children playing together.

This is why I love Yafo. It is one of the most robust examples of coexistence I have seen here in Israel. (Haifa is another example, but I'm not as familiar with it). Yafo is a place that, in the years before 1948, was an epicenter of the Arab uprisings, but also a place with countless stories of Arab friends saving Jewish friends and vice versa. Of Jewish and Arab employees working side by side, and close family-to-family bonds.

This is still true, to some extent, today. My friend Esty used to date an Israeli guy who chooses to live in Yafo, not because housing is cheaper, but because it is the only neighborhood where he could find an apartment that allows mixed Arab-Jewish housing. The inter-faith couple that married last August and was subject to angry demonstrations, was from Yafo.

And now, we ride our bikes through a park where the smoky smell of tasty meat emanates from grills of all ethnicities. Barbecue on a sunny day: the universal language.

What are the feelings of these Arabs I see here, picnicking and laughing? I would think that surely, even though they are treated as second-class citizens, they must feel they're better off than their co-religionists in Syria or Lebanon, or Egypt, or Northern Nigeria, or so many other Muslim areas where death and danger are the norm?

But then, I think of Gaza. It is much very much by chance that these peoples' grandfathers chose to stay in Yafo after the wars that led to so many others' displacement. The people here could have easily have been born into a vastly different situation in Gaza, where they would not have freedom of movement nor the right to vote, their opportunities immensely hindered.

Do these Arab families sitting at this park feel lucky? Empathetic? Apathetic? Embittered? Unsure?

We cycle to the end of the park, to the predominantly Arab portion of Yafo, where the beach is littered with trash. I think of the Israelis, also smiling and grilling in the same park. As I've said in previous posts, I can't put myself in the shoes of these Israelis. These Israelis, who worked so hard for so long to have a place of their own, a place where they as Jews can determine their own fate, a place where Jews from all over the world can find a safe haven.

Have these Israelis hardened themselves to the brutal truths of the Middle East, the eat-or-be-eaten paradigm, the calculus of strength that has proven throughout history to be the only thing that matters? Have they, consciously or un-consciously, put the Conflict far into the back of their minds, so much so that they can now picnic alongside Arabs without acknowledging their presence -- both literally the Arabs in this park and figuratively the Arabs on the other side of the Green Line?

Sometimes I think Naftali Bennett, the right-wing politician and chairman of the Jewish Home party, is correct when he says, "Some problems don't have a solution." If we were to make peace, and achieve a two-state solution, things could completely fall apart. The fragile Palestinian Authority, un-elected and rife with corruption, could fall to into the hands of Hamas, or ISIS, or worse. This already happened in Gaza, but there is more at stake in the West Bank because of its large size, and because of Jerusalem.

As for the Israeli side, it is completely within the realm of possibility that a two-state solution would lead to civil war. That's not so far-fetched. The belief of the extremist settlers and other ultra-nationalist Jews is that God gave this land undivided to the Jewish people, and mere politicians have no right to barter it away. This was the exact sentiment of Yigal Amir, the Jewish terrorist who assassinated Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin in 1995.

Extreme religious viewpoints, on both sides, do not leave room for compromise. But even if Mr. Bennett is right, even if this problem doesn't have a solution, and we must continue the occupation into perpetuity, do we need to make the Palestinians' lives such incredible hell? Do we need to employ the perverse logic of equating Hamas with all Palestinian people, many of whom just want to live their lives in peace and safety? Do we, with our iron-fisted policies that we call "deterrence," of demolishing homes and razing neighborhoods and depriving the people of basic water and electricity, do we need to fuel the fire, and in doing so, play a part in creating the next generation of terrorists?

No, we don't. Michael Oren calls it the "Two-State Situation," and even Bibi, during the initial years after the 2nd Intifada, promoted a policy of "Economic Peace." The idea is, in a nutshell, to develop economic ties and jobs, and reduce discriminatory inciteful practices wherever possible. In reality, this means giving law-abiding Palestinians freedom of movement and working permits. It also means reasonably granting housing permits so that Palestinians don't need to build illegally on their own land, and can link up to the electricity and water grids. It means limiting Jewish settlement to areas earmarked under the Geneva Convention. And it means actually prosecuting the Settlers who uproot Palestinian farms and commit "Price Tag" crimes with virtually no repercussions. It means equality of access to water.

Maybe, over time, over generations, this type of economic development could lead to real peace.

Or maybe I'm naive. Maybe it will never happen.

But when I want to see a glimpse of how this peace would look, however tenuous it might be, I come watch the families picnicking and the children playing on a sunny day in Yafo.