Life on the Farm

I haven’t had a shower in 6 days.

Surprisingly, I’m handling it ok. I’ve been staying at the Tent of Nations for the last week, volunteering at a summer camp for Palestinian children living in Bethlehem. The kids come in for the first half of the day and do different activities such as art, drama, music, and dance, then go back home. I’m living on the farm for the two weeks of camp, along with about 20 other international volunteers. This allows us to bond with each other, as well as plan for the next day’s activities the night before…however, it has come with some unique challenges as well, such as the severe lack of running water.

Now, let me clarify – the farm definitely does have running water…however, it is in very short supply. The farm, which is about 100 acres, is surrounded by newly built Israeli settlements. It used to be an entirely Palestinian-owned area, with various small, family farms all over. But, over the years, people have been pushed off and their land taken over by the State of Israel. This farm and a small town next to it called Nahalin are the only Palestinian areas still existing here, alone in a sea of Settlements.

The Israeli government does not want this farm to exist, though. They have done all they can to get the family who owns it to move. From taking them to court, to blocking the road that leads to the farm so no cars can come in, to giving them demolition orders for all buildings on the property. And yet, the Nassar family who owns it continues on: filing the necessary paperwork, paying continual permit fees, navigating the bureaucratic maze to try and keep the land that has been in their family for ages.

Part of this constant struggle to exist in a place where the ruling government does not want you to exist at means limited resources. They have been cut off from all electricity sources, as well as from the water supply. They have even been given orders that it is illegal for them to collect water that comes down from the sky! However, this is one that they do not abide by. They run the farm with solar power, and collect water in cisterns during the rainy season. This water then has to be enough to last them for the entire year.

Therefore, they have had to come up with some creative strategies to keep the place running. They have compost toilets, where you throw a handful of dead leaves in after using the bathroom, and the waste is turned into compost to be used as fertilizer. Volunteers are asked to only shower once a week, and to keep the duration of that shower down to a single minute (the water will cut off if you try and stay in there longer). Olive trees are watered on a weekly basis (but they have so many that watering occurs daily, just on a rotation), by digging a small hole in the soil, pouring a set amount of water in, letting it soak down, and then covering the hole back up.

Everything on the farm is recycled, scrap food is fed to the animals, and they reuse the grey water (ie. water that has been used once in the shower, washing dishes, etc) for agricultural purposes as well.

It is a very different way of living. I brought a pack of baby wipes with me and have rationed them out to six a day. Which, might seem like a lot…but when you’re living on a farm, in the desert, running around with kids, you’d be surprised how much dirt needs to be wiped away. I am actually planning on going back to my apartment today so that I will be able to take a shower and get really clean before the second week begins.

Another interesting aspect of this camp that the volunteers come from all over. Just out of the ones here for these two weeks, we have people from: Spain, France, Germany, Finland, Switzerland, Palestine, Denmark, UK, Italy, and USA. It’s the first time I’ve ever been around so many different people from all over the world. On any given night at dinner, you’ll hear three or four different languages being spoken all around you. We teach the kids a new song every morning, and have been alternating languages. So far they have learned a Finnish, German, French, Italian, and English song.

While our days are spent working with the children at the camp, our evenings are full of classes and field trips to nearby towns. A Psychology professor comes in to teach a class on nonviolent communication and peace building, we have a daily lesson in Arabic, and are also learning Dubka, a traditional Palestinian folk dance. It has been a very full week, with an even busier one to come, and I can’t wait to see what comes next!

Cats and Feeling at Home

Have you ever introduced a cat into a new environment? They aren’t like dogs, who will excitedly run around, exploring every nook and cranny. Instead, when you bring a new cat into your home, they need some time to adjust. Usually people will keep them isolated in a bedroom for a few days, letting them get familiar with the new sights, sounds, and smells within that room first, before slowly allowing them to discover the rest of the house.

This process helps prevent the cat from panicking: they are allowed to gradually adjust to all the changes surrounding them. They become familiar with that one room, and come to view it as a safe space to return to if they get scared or nervous while exploring somewhere else. They learn where their food and water is – how to get to their litter box, etc. It becomes their “home base,” and as such gives them the confidence to widen their perimeter of discovery.

I say all this because I feel like it serves as a good analogy to explain why these past two weeks in Israel have sometimes been quite challenging: I have yet to really establish my “home base.” I feel like a cat who has been set loose inside a mansion with 15 rooms, each one with its own staircase and secret passageway inside. I am living in Bet Safafa, the church I’m connected with is near the Old City, I’ve been working on a farm near Bethlehem, and I just spent the weekend in Tel Aviv.

I have bits and pieces of streets and a smattering of knowledge about bus routes for each of these places, but comprehensive knowledge about none. Even though my apartment is beginning to feel homey and familiar, the neighborhood surrounding it still remains largely unexplored, and finding a grocery store in walking distance continues to be #1 on my to-do list.

I am unmoored; grateful to have had the opportunity to see so much of Israel/Palestine in such a short amount of time, but also desirous of some roots that can help ground me in this still-foreign land.

I am learning a lot about self-reliance, though. About being comfortable in my own skin, even when I am not 100% sure I’ve gotten on the right bus; even when everyone around me is speaking a language I don’t know. I’m learning to laugh at both myself and at the situations I get myself into (like trying, and failing, to tell a cab driver the stop I wanted in Arabic), and I’m learning to soak up what I can, when I can – even if I would prefer to just explore one bedroom at a time.

I leave tomorrow to help with a two-week long summer camp at a farm between Bethlehem and Hebron. It is called Tent of Nations, and they focus both on sustainability with the land, as well as peace between Palestinians and Israelis. This camp will be for about 50 Palestinian kids, ranging from elementary to high school age. I spent last week helping to organize and plan it, and will now spend the next two-weeks sleeping at the camp (in a cave, interestingly enough), working with the 25 or so international volunteers flying in tonight specifically to help with it.

I’ll do my best to continue posting while there about all that is going on. I also have a post I hope to write soon about some experiences I have had walking through the checkpoint back and forth between Bethlehem and Jerusalem. But, for now, I am heading “home” after a fun weekend in Tel Aviv, ready to pack and get busy next week!

Attempt at Exploration: Take 1

Yesterday was busy. And hard. And hectic. And hard. I spent the majority of the day in the Old City of Jerusalem, though my day of independent exploration didn't go quite as planned.

My day started out pretty well-planned and organized. I met with a pastor serving at the United Church of Scotland, which has a church right by the Old City in Jerusalem. He's been here for almost a year, and has several more to go. We had breakfast at the church and he showed me around the impressive building, while giving me my first of many history lessons for the day, focusing on Palestinian-Israeli relations.

After breakfast we went to Sabeel, a Christian organization that works for peace and justice for the Palestinian people. They are ecumenical, and have a weekly bible study and communion service, followed by a lunch. There I met people from Canada, Spain, and Germany, as well as people born here. The lunch was a traditional Palestinian dish, made with rice and lentils. It was very tasty - I definitely need to figure out some local recipes to try out.

Next we headed over to the YWCA for afternoon tea. There I learned more about the different programs they have in the area to help women, especially those currently living in refugee camps. They're working to provide economic freedom for these women, teaching them different skills that they can then take away to start up businesses in their community, along with many other programs. I'm sure I will be writing more about this organization in the future, along with Sabeel, when I begin working more closely with them.

Finally, we visited yet another organization - Rabbis for Human Rights. This is a group of rabbis from all of the major sects of Judaism, who do social justice work within Israel - both for Israelis, and Palestinians. We spoke with one of the Rabbis who has been working there for 20 years about the work that they are doing and plan to do in the future.

Each of these meetings was extremely informative. Not only learning about what each organization does in the area, but also talking to those who worked there and hearing their stories about what they have experienced while living in Israel. I already have several books added to my to-read list, as I'm quickly realizing that the conflict is so much more complex and deep than I had ever realized before. Rooted in history, propaganda, and injustice. There are so many sides to each issue that it makes my head spin - but I am eager to continue discovering, each conversation coloring in another small piece of the puzzle.
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That was the first part of my day. I can't express exactly how helpful and eye-opening it was. However, that is not the main thing that I want to write about. What I want to write about is my attempt at independent exploration later that evening - after the pastor had dropped me off by car at my apartment.


If you are my mother, you may quit reading this post now.

For those that don't know, I do a lot of ballroom dancing. Particularly West Coast Swing. It was a weekly activity I did in NC, and I hope to continue it while here in Israel (there is actually a pretty big scene here for it). After much research online, I discovered a dance studio, in Jerusalem, that holds a weekly class and social dance. It just so happens that this class occurs every Thursday. And, yesterday was Thursday.

I had already been out of my comfort zone all throughout the day - meeting new people, going to new places, etc. I decided to capitalize on this feeling of confidence and try my hand at getting to this dance studio for their evening class.

I don't have a car here, as you might have realized. They do have a pretty decent public transportation system here, but it's rather complicated to figure out. There are certain buses that go into Palestinian areas, and certain buses that go into Israeli areas. Even if these areas are right next to each other, only certain buses will stop. To complicate matters further, the Palestinian areas of Jerusalem (areas near Bethlehem, that were originally part of Bethlehem, but have been annexed to become "annexed greater Jerusalem") are not listed on maps. As in, you can buy a map, and see roads there, but the names are not on those roads. Similarly, if you try using a website to figure out a bus route, the bus system does not recognize these areas as being part of their route.

I live in one of these areas - in Bet Safafa, an area very close to Checkpoint 300, leading into Bethlehem. I live in an Arab neighborhood, and because of this, my home is not listed on any of the maps. Or any of the bus routes. Joy.

Now, for the record, let me go ahead and state that my neighborhood is completely safe. It is full of families that have been nothing but friendly to me when I pass them walking in the street. Children run around and play, families sit out on patios and talk in the evenings, and Christmas lights decorate some homes for the current season of Ramadan, a Muslim holiday. I feel very comfortable here, even at night.

Anyway. I use google maps to figure out where the bus stop is and which buses service it. I walk the couple blocks from my apt to the bus stop. Wait. Get on a bus. (Fun fact - most bus drivers don't speak English. At least, not on Palestinian buses, which are the ones I use.) I get confident. I rode the bus in the morning to the Old City, and so am familiar with it's path there. Problem: the dance studio is not in the Old City. It's several miles away from it. I missed this when I first looked at its location on a map.

I realize my error too late, as I watch the tiny blue dot on googlemaps move further and further away from the place I want to go. I calm the rising panic. It's ok - It's fine. I left at 6pm and the dance isn't until 9:30pm (I had planned to eat dinner somewhere and explore a bit first). I had plenty of time. I would just get out at the Old City, walk around, find somewhere to eat, and then get back on a bus to take me to the right place. No problem.

So, I do just that. Get out at the Old City. Pick a direction that I think will take me back to this mall-type area where Kristen first brought me when we came here. Scenery doesn't look super familiar, but that's ok. It'll start looking familiar soon, I tell myself. Soon.

But then it doesn't. It just starts looking more and more strange. And then I realize that none of the signs are in Hebrew anymore (which I can read a little of), but rather only in Arabic (which I can read none of). The streets are packed with people because, again, it's Ramadan. Muslims fast during the day, and then at night everyone gathers together to eat and celebrate and fellowship. And evidently I am in an area populated solely by Arabs.

That's fine. That's cool. I walk around a bit. A little nervous because I have no clue where I am, but not too bad. I see a couple street restaurants, but the Arabic writing intimidates me. If only there was some semi-familiar Hebrew! English would be too much to hope for, I think. I can't read the menus, so I ignore the rumble in my stomach and keep walking. My new plan is to just find a bus stop. Maybe find somewhere around the dance studio to eat at.


Googlemaps tells me there's a stop up ahead. It doesn't look like a stop though. I ask someone. They don't speak English. I see some IDF soldiers - hooray! Jews seem more likely to speak English than Arabs here, probably because they also are more likely to be upper class. I stop and ask them if that is the bus stop. I get blank stares. One girl speaks to the guy next to her in Hebrew, and I can understand it: "Do you speak English?" The guy says yes, then turns to me. I ask him. Evidently he doesn't speak it well enough. This is the answer I get back, "If the sign says the bus is there, then the bus is there." Perfect.

I walk to the bus stop. Wait. Realize while waiting that I do not have exact change. Only paper shekels, not coins. I walk back to where the street venders are. They are super crowded. People are shouting what I presume are orders, and money is quickly changing hands. One guy is dropping falafel into a deep fryer while another scoops the cooked pieces out, and it is all very hectic. I timidly stand in what I think is a line. It is not a line. I make eye contact with a teenager maybe taking orders. No one speaks English.

He asks me something in Arabic. I point to the falafel. Hold up 4 fingers. He nods his head. Puts 10 in a bag. I say, "Pita?" I point to the pita. He doesn't understand. I say it again; point. He nods his head. Gets me a bag to put the falafel in. No pita. Someone else rings me up, I pay, and am thankful to get coins back as change. I walk back to what I hope is a bus stop. I wait.

After 15 or so minutes, I come to the realization that googlemaps has lied to me. This cannot be a bus stop. Sun has set by now. My stress levels after dealing with the falafel venders are at an all time high. It's my first time being a true minority in a place, as well as first time being surrounded by people, none of which I can understand or communicate with. I nibble on my falafel, sans pita, and back track to my original bus stop - probably a little over a mile away.

This story goes on, but I will try to make the rest of it short, since it is already disastrously long:

I get to my bus original bus stop. Realize my bus does not run at night. Consider getting a taxi, but am worried the driver won't speak English. A nice Palestinian man sees me looking lost. Explains to me in broken English that another bus is running. Asks where I'm trying to go. I show him googlemaps and where the dance studio is. He says the bus goes there.

Bus comes, he gets on with me. Tells the driver in Arabic where to let me off at. Driver stops. I get off. It's the wrong stop. I'm a mile away from the dance studio. I think. I walk.

I get to where googlemaps tells me is the studio. It's a big building with different offices inside. I see no people. All signs are in Hebrew now. I learn that my knowledge of Hebrew really doesn't help me much. I go in. Look around. Find someone randomly in an office. He starts speaking to me in Hebrew. I try to say, in Hebrew, that I don't really speak Hebrew. He helpfully switches to English and I almost jump for joy! I say the dance studio's name, and he tells me it's one floor up. One floor up! I am so close!

I hurry up the steps and enter. I found it! It's the studio! And it is right at 9:30! Everyone who works there speaks English as well as Hebrew, and I am so relieved!

However, that is not the end of my night. The entire class was taught in Hebrew, which was ok because it was a beginner class so I already knew the moves they were teaching. I made connections with a few dancers that will come in handy for the future, but ultimately, the class was not super exciting. Or really worth the panic and stress I experienced trying to get there. And, of course, now I had to get back home.

It was 11pm. I had no idea about the bus schedule. The well-meaning people in the class took it upon themselves to figure out a way to get me home. Of course, when I explained to them where I lived, I was met with looks of shock and horror. They're Israelis. They don't go into areas with Palestinians. One lady who has a car (and who speaks the least English of them all) agrees to take me up to the main road and drop me off. Buses come every hour on that road, they tell me. I can get home from there.

She drops me on the main road. I find a bus stop. I wait. A bus comes. I get on the bus. It's the wrong bus (an Israeli one, that doesn't stop near my village). I get off the bus. Wait. Another bus comes. It's the right bus! It is full to the brim with Palestinians returning to the checkpoint after being in Jerusalem to worship, and they are very friendly and make room for me to enter. I tell the driver where I live (he doesn't speak English). We go. He stops the bus, opens the door - says we're at my stop. I look, tell him he's wrong. "Further?" he asks. "Further," I confirm.

We go. I tell him the name of my neighborhood again. He immediately stops. "Bet Safafa?" he asks. "Bet Safafa," I confirm. He opens the door. Points behind us. We've passed it, I realize. He had been right the first time.

I get out. Start walking. It's near 11:30pm now. A block later, things start to look familiar - for the first time all night, I know where I am! Only a few more blocks to my apt! I could have skipped there, I was so happy. I arrive home - hungry and tired and stressed, but home.

That was enough adventure to last me several months. But, somehow, I don't think I've quite reached the end of it yet. 

I have arrived!

I arrived in Israel late Monday afternoon, and was picked up at the airport by Rev. Kristen Brown. She heads up the Methodist Liaison office here, and will therefore be my primary contact and lifeline. However, she just left today for a conference in the U.S. where she will be for the next two weeks...

So, I am kind of on my own. But only kind of. Yesterday was a whirlwind day of getting settled in and meeting various people as she tried to impart enough information to me to last until she gets back.

I was taken through a few areas of both Bethlehem and Jerusalem. Basically just enough so that I can find my way back there on my own (in theory). I took today as a rest/unpacking day at my apartment, but plan to do some serious exploring Thursday and Friday. Thursday I will spend all day exploring Jerusalem, and then Friday will be spent doing the same in Bethlehem. Mostly I'm wanting to get my bearings: find the nearest grocery store, figure out the public transportation system, navigate through the checkpoint on my own. I'll let you know how it goes!

I thought people might be curious about my living arrangements here, and so recorded a video you can play below. I am sub-letting an apartment in Jerusalem. Another U.S. missionary lives here 6 months out of the year and has been coming here for several years. She will return to Israel in October, but, until then, I'm staying in her apartment. So, it is home for now:

Besides that, I am still getting adjusted to the different time zone (it is 8 hours ahead here), as well as getting used to hearing Arabic and Hebrew spoken all around me and written on signs, groceries, etc. My one year of Modern Hebrew has come in handy when trying to read signs, though I haven't had a chance to really try speaking it to anyone yet. Hopefully tomorrow in Jerusalem I will get the chance to. Now, whether I'm actually brave enough to when the time comes...well, we shall see.

I don't know any Arabic yet, but may get the opportunity to learn at least a little bit of it here soon, which will be very useful. Right now it just looks like squiggly marks in cursive. Which isn't super helpful when trying to shop for food.

I'm about to venture out and explore my neighborhood a little bit this evening. Try to find a restaurant to eat at. I'll be posting more on here soon, though. Feel free to leave questions in the comments if you want to hear more about something!

T-Minus Two Days

Sunday, July 5th.

That's when I will officially board a plane from Shreveport, LA to fly to Tel Aviv, Israel; making stops in Houston, TX and Newark, NJ on the way.

Bags are (mostly) packed, itinerary has been printed, important documents scanned and copied, and visa approved. Various goodbyes to friends and extended family members have been said, and the last few loose ends are in the process of being tied up. Finally, with the number of items on my to-do list dwindling closer and closer to zero, the reality of my departure is beginning to sink in:

I leave in two days.

I've been avoiding this realization; ever since the idea of volunteering in Israel first entered my head, over a year and a half ago now, I intentionally put a mental block on the image of me actually boarding the plane to take me there. The idea of physically getting on the plane to Israel was just too hard - too scary.

There have been enough obstacles for me to focus on in the meantime, plenty of steps I have had to take and processes I have had to go through which have kept me distracted from the final step which will tangibly begin my 11-month long journey in a foreign country. A journey that will take me away from friends and family and all things familiar to me. A journey that will push me further outside my comfort zone than I have ever been before.

But, as the time gets ever closer, the feelings of panic have begun to diminish and the sense of excitement has grown. The fear is still there - the unknown - but, strangely enough, I feel ready for it.

I know it is going to be hard. I have no illusions about that. I am going to miss everyone so much, and adjusting to a new place, culture, and time zone is going to be both difficult and overwhelming. I have many questions, and feel very much like I am going into a lot of this blind to a certain extent. However, even so, I feel a sense of peace about it all as well. Like a small pebble of confidence lies buried underneath all of the nerves and anxiety.

Just like in the beginning, when all of this first started to come together, I very much feel God's hand working in the midst of it. This calling to go over there and serve has been reaffirmed again and again by certain pieces falling into place, as well as through the amazing support and encouragement I have received from my church family and friends. Though I do not know all the details yet about what exactly I will be doing, or how my experiences there will change and shape me for my future in ministry, I do know that this is where God is calling me to be.

In two days, I will officially depart to serve as an Individual Volunteer in Mission for the United Methodist Church. And, though I may be stepping onto that plane to Israel by myself, I know that I will not be alone.