Between Gaza and Salem

Yesterday when I was leaving my last class of the week and heading to my room, a lot of things came to my attention as obviously as they had never before. Looking more deeply around and above me and irresistibly getting to evoke some memories of things I used to see in Gaza, I thought that it would be a good post on my blog to address two major differences a Palestinian coming from Gaza would experience in Salem, VA.

The difference that I most commonly experience is the sound of planes. Living on a campus very close to an airport, I daily get to hear the sounds of planes taking off and crossing the high sky. For non-Palestinians, hearing this voice might not cause so many worries. In contrast, it pretty much could be interpreted as the voice of a means of travelling to spend a vacation in -for example- Italy or Norway; it also could mean that somebody got a job in another country and he/she is travelling to get it, and it likely means that a very important figure is coming to one's region to deliver a speech about an interesting issue. However, these interpretations cannot be further from what a  Palestinian would expect when hearing the voice of a plane. Personally, I never heard the voice of an aircraft, but immediately afterwards knew the news that there was either a house bombed, a whole family annihilated, a farm rocketed or at least a national leader targeted! In Palestine, there used to be one airport, which was only one way for Palestinians to "break down" the sound of planes into peaceful meanings about travel purposes. Yet, Israel had a different opinion which required "bombing" this airport, made completely for humanitarian needs. Ever since I was a child, I knew that a plane is something very dangerous, and I would get extremely worried about who or what is going to be targeted after hearing such a sound. Something even more weirdly interesting? For a man who has long been waiting for his woman to get pregnant, the sound of a plane means worrying that the extremely horrifying sound of a bombing is going to get his woman to abort their child! And it happened over five times in one week during the first Israeli war on Gaza in 2008-2009... .

Still looking around, I just abstain from further meditation into these black and bloody memories, and I choose to entertain myself by looking at the captivating scene of falling leaves, beautifully coloring the ground with golden and brown colors! It is not a matter of my choice to decide not to remember, but being a Palestinian -particularly from Gaza- will always has its effect on each and every single situation of my life. Seeing this miraculous beauty of the Fall brings back to me how the past Fall witnessed the falling of many martyrs, buildings and Palestinian dreams of peace and safety! Still very much present in my mind, the second Israeli war on Gaza came back to my memory, and substituted the fore-mentioned scene of golden and brown colors of ground for a scene of purely red blood and completely grey buildings ashes covering most of the land all over Gaza!

Experiencing such differences on a daily basis is not only a way for me to learn how to appreciate the blessings of peace, safety and security, but it also is a way for me to get even more motivated to work for a better  future of the Palestinian nation. It gives me further motive to do well in my classes, and a more compelling drive to bring back to Palestine the values and education that would constructively build a safer place for the next generation to live in. 

A very Arabic Fall break!

Fall break was a very good opportunity for me to feel Middle Eastern again! With my three Arab friends from Lebanon and Saudi Arabia, I spent the ten-day break doing every single thing we all were missing about our life in the Middle East. Every evening, we would gather in the house of Mohammed, the guy from KSA. Then, we would begin explaining how wonderful it was to sleep for almost twelve hours and waking up at 2p.m! Neither my Arabic nor my English could serve me well here to elaborate on what unearthly exuberance I had in my heart and on my face every time I woke up, looked at my watch and found that I had been sleeping for twelve hours! And so was the case for my friends.

Later, we would sit and start negotiating what we would like to have for dinner –which became our main meal for ten days-. Everybody came up with some suggestions that clearly reflected how all of us missed the Arabic food. We finally decided that we would cook a different Arabic meal every day.

As Arabs culture has always been, everybody would “fight” for paying for the stuff needed. It was not just generosity, which a typical Arab person believes is one of his/her universal characters, but it was something all of us had missed about being home. We all wanted to feel that we are doing something very Arabic even though it might sound weird for Americans, preferring that everybody pays for himself/herself.

Anyways, we finally were “beaten” –as it would sound in the Arab world if you lost the fight of paying for yourself and your friends- by Mohammed, and he took care of buying every single thing needed.

Our first meal was Kabsa, which is a very popular meal in KSA. It primarily consists of rice, meat and some special spices. Everybody got his share of preparing it, and Mohammed absolutely was the chief. Later, we had the popular Palestinian meal “Makloba” –literally translated as Upside Down-, and some Lebanese salads and appetizers.

Away from food, we also got to watch so many Arabic movies, which I had not done for almost ninety days by then! We really enjoyed watching them, and sometimes our British friend, Daniel, would join us and just get lost with the very Arabic atmosphere we had! He always said that Arabic sounded aggressive to him, but for Mahmoud and Reem, the Lebanese guys, it would be really weird to know that, because the Lebanese dialect of Arabic is the smoothest of all the ones in the Arab world.

We finally would conclude our nights by smoking some Hooka –me excluded- and having a discussion of what would be interesting to do the next day, or actually that day itself since this was happening at 3a.m.!

I apologize for the long post, but believe me: “It was just as if I went back to Palestine, stayed with my family, ate Arabic food, spoke Arabic all the time, and hanged out with all my best friends!”

   

Today was a very wonderful day!

Today was a very special day! It has been almost two months now since I have left home. Back in Palestine, I used to go the weekly meeting of all Muslims in my area: the Friday prayer at mosque.  Muslims gather each Friday at around 1:00p.m. to listen to a preacher “known as Imam” who reminds them of what is good to do and what is evil. They also get to stand right next to each other –regardless of any differences, and pray to the Almighty we Muslims believe is one for all creaters. I MISS SUCH A FEELING of waking up early, take a shower, dress to look as handsome as possible, put some perfume and leave with my family to the mosque. I also miss my little 6-year old brother who always sat next to me, and fell asleep while the preaching was one. I miss the feeling of listening to what the preacher says, decides to follow the best of it, and pledges to nevermore commit anything addressed as a bad thing in the Khotba, which is the speech of the preacher.

Today which is Friday, I and over 15 fellows of the InterFaith Council gathered at 6:30p.m. and left to the mosque nearest to RC campus. I felt greatly splendid that my female fellows were excited to wear Hijab, the head scarf Muslim females wear, and that males were as excited to see how Muslims worship the God in a mosque.

We had three kind drivers of the Council members to give us a ride to the mosque. We arrived there on time for the prayer. We, Muslims, perform five prayers a day as a way of repenting to and expressing deep gratitude to the God for all his blessings upon us. So it was the fourth prayer –known as Salat Al-Maghrib-. We were warmly welcomed by the Imam and his fellows when we met them. We took off our shoes, and waited few seconds for the prayer to begin.

I and three other fellows were Muslims, so we participated in the prayer while our fellows were exploring the mosque and seeing how a prayer can be performed. When we finished praying, the Imam stood before us, welcomed us again, and went to give a brief explanation about Islam in terms of its foundations, traditions and view of Christianity and other religions. My male and female fellows had some interesting questions like: “What do Muslims believe about the Hereafter?”, “What is the role of women in Muslim communities?” and “Why there are a lot of misconceptions about Muslims nowadays?”. The Imam answered these questions, and it was really good for me to see that my fellows were getting the right information from the right person about Islam, while practically sitting in an Islamic place where the differences completely melt between the black and white, the young and old, the American and non-American when praying right next to each other, shaking hands after prayer, and saying “Al-Salamu Alikum”, which means peace be upon you, when leaving.

While I was getting back to campus, I gladly listened to what my fellows thought of this experience. Some of their conceptions about Islam got deeper. some gray areas got clearer for them.

Being accompanied by such wonderful, tolerant persons made me feel home! It got back to my mind the times when I went to the mosque with my family. The Imam’s speech reminded me of the Friday prayers, and talking to some Arabs in the mosque was a nice little surprise for an Arab who is missing the East and the traditions he had there. It was a wonderful day, indeed.

My roommate: a story of alleviation and tolerance – The Second Part

It is always said that beginnings are the hardest part of each new experience, but I do not think this was the case of sharing a room with Daniel. It has been six weeks now since we started living together and sharing all our stuff in a room. Honestly, I did not think that we would be this much good as roommates, but my thought could not be further from the reality! I would explain this in three main examples.

First, sleeping! I recently have acted so much like a night owl, waking up at 9p.m. and staying up to attend the classes of the next day, then go to bed! Very unlike me, Daniel sleeps early and wakes up early. Considering that we are living in the same room, we had to talk about this issue and come to an agreement. He suggested that I stay in the room while no light would be on. However, I knew that even if I would do this, the noise I might make would disturb the sweet dreams Daniel would be having! Consequently, I decided to stay in the room for as long as Daniel is not going to his bed. Once he wants to sleep, I leave the room and continue studying in the study room of either my dorm or the library.

Second, worshipping. Unlike sleeping, this is not a doing mutual between us. Daniel is an Atheist so he never practices any kind of worship. In contrast, it means so much for me to worship Allah through five daily prayers and reading Quran regularly. I sometimes forget the prayer rug in the middle of the room; sometimes I would unintentionally read Quran loudly, and I may invite some Muslim guys to pray together while Daniel is in the room. He was completely okay with all of this, and he never complained about it to me or even just showed some inconvenience. To him, it could be just a way to tolerate my practice of my religion, but to me it absolutely meant way more. I believe it is not always easy to tolerate “completely” different beliefs, and I am the kind of really religious Muslim. So when Daniel accepts that I practice my deep beliefs, which severely contradict with his, in front of him and daily, this is absolutely some kind of treasure and luck I have found!

Third, using each other’s stuff. This specific example is the largest part of why I entitled this post with its name “My roommate: a story of alleviation and tolerance”. Remember the first part of this post last week? When he sent me a package of sheets and necessary stuff for a freshman. When Daniel arrived, he got a micro-fridge and a stand-light. One day when I had bought some cheese and bread for suppers, I was going to put these in the fridge available for all residents of Catawba, and I had to write my name on it and get to the kitchen whenever I want to make a sandwich at 3a.m.! Without me asking, Daniel offered me to use his micro-fridge for storing all and whatever I buy. It was really so generous form him, and I had nothing but a deep sense of gratitude and respect and all that I could do to reward him for caring about a person he met just few weeks ago. Another day when I was doing some “nerding”, the dim light at the ceiling of my room was not enough for my poor eyes to still look at the book without pain. I looked around and saw the stand-light Daniel had next to his desk. I texted  him to ask to use his light and here is how our texts went

“Hey Daniel! Can I, please, use your stand-light? I am finding some kind of hardship studying on the dim light of our room.”

“absolutely man! It is yours, too!”

And anyone reading this could feel how much he alleviated the pain my eyes were having and the burden of going to study in the library, where no music or loud reading is allowed.

 

My roommate: a story of alleviation and tolerance – The First Part

      When emailed that the web portal for housing on-campus was opened, I got very anxious about the choices I had to make: the hall, room, roommate and what to bring with me here. It was really hard to decide, and rather frustrating. I needed to know a fellow student who would just 60% match the person I believed I could share a room with, who would be able to visit the campus, compare the residence options with one another, and choose what would be best for both of us, and who also would be tolerant enough with a Muslim Palestinian getting out of Gaza Strip for the first time, ever!

      I knew that I had to make an announcement of what kind of roommate both I would be and would like to live with. Therefore, I went to the Facebook group of all freshmen and made a post that I still did not have a roommate, and shared some basic information about myself. Then, I do not know what unearthly luck I got. Daniel Osborne, an American freshman from North Carolina, saw my post and seemed interested in roommating with me. We chatted for almost two hours about our studying, eating, drinking, and sleeping habits, the basic principles for a perfect match. Thank God, we met each other's expectations and believed we could be the best roommates for each other, or at least I did! Later, we went into deeper information about our religious and cultural backgrounds. I have to be honest enough to admit that it was immensely vital for me to live with a tolerant roommate, who would accept me praying in the room- alone or together with a person or two-, who would not be bothered because I could neither drink nor party, and who would appreciate that I was coming from a very under-served region of this world. Here was why Daniel would be the best roommate for me. Not only did he seem even more tolerant than I wished, but he also happened to know about Islam and Palestine very much, which I felt truly good to know!

       After agreeing to be roommates, we had to choose where to live. We, at first, thought New Hall would be perfect for us, but Catawba was more affordable for me. Catawba also is where most international students, like me, live. To make a wise decision, I and Daniel agreed to wait until SIM day, when Daniel visited the campus and saw New Hall and Catawba, and he took some pictures from there. At the night of that day, he sent me the pictures, and spoke seemingly so happily about Catawba; how the rooms are spacious and how living in a suit would be a brilliant choice. Now, maybe I have not told Daniel that he was doing a lot for our favor, as if I was his brother! I truly looked up to how supportive, appreciative and kind he was to me.

       When moving-in day approached, Daniel and his sweet family were very generous with me. Because I would be new to the country and would arrive early on campus, they offered to send me a package of sheets and some necessary stuff for a freshman. I thought it was very kind of them to do so for somebody they have never met before. I very appreciatively and gladly accepted it, and Daniel mailed it to my mail box on campus… .

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This was the first part of the story. The second will be published next week, hopefully, and I will discuss in detail how we both are dealing with one another as we now are living together.

Classes at RC

CLASSES ARE TORTURING ME! These were the very same words I have been unable to stop repeating over and over “and over” again through the three weeks classes have been on! Seriously, when I first knew that I would have four classes for the whole semester, I was very happily surprised. I always was used to taking ten or eleven classes each semester in high school; or to be more accurate, I had to take this number of classes. However, I was not assigned to read some chapters, write a paper, establish a blog and post on it on a weekly basis, nor was I ever accustomed to having quizzes through each class! Maybe classes are not hard, but the different system is what is hard to adapt to? The too much work? Maybe, I always answer.

My communication class, which is the introductory class to my first possible major, is going very well. At the beginning of it, I thought it would be hard to read thirty pages for each quiz in each class, but my true passion for this field of study made it easier for me to adapt. I truly like what I study there, despite how hard it is for me to stay studying two hours reading a chapter in a second language. I liked that communication is a very broad, interdisplinary field of study, because it matches my other interests in psychology, journalism, counseling and public speaking.

My Economics class, which is the introductory class to my second possible major, is going less well than the first. I have thus far experienced in this class taking a take-home quiz, a pop quiz and reading three chapters in just two days! No one can tell how magical this would sound to me if I knew I would do it while in high school. I cannot deny that I did my best to manage to do well through it all, but I still failed that pop quiz and did rather well in the rest. Homework is almost always a paperwork which needs some thinking, math and graphs, so I can handle this very well.

My other two INQ classes are the real torture of this process. Too much work with something I am neither in love with nor good at is apparently a disaster. I really never studied literature in English, but now I have to deal with something of short stories and personal written experiences. In the past three weeks, I have been trying hard to do just fine through my class, and I have failed two quizzes and passed one. So I am just confused what to do. Never the less, the fact that I just dealt with two books out of the four required for this class is not giving me so much hope for what is to come. So I will just keep working and praying not to fail this course! My other INQ class is statistics. I have to admit that I was the only one who chose this course, because its name “Social Justice” appeared so tempting to me, but I did not fully notice that it was a statistics class! I really like and am accustomed to classes where both participation and interaction are so encouraged and present, but this class is of exactly the opposite type of classes where students are on and on instructed with very few chances of participation. The worst foes of students are boredom and sleepiness, which both are a result of little in-class interaction, and this is why I am not really getting along well with this class.