Rather than devote this posting to my father’s departure from Palestine and my initial reactions to life in Bethlehem (both of which topics I promise to cover next time), I’d like to share an experience I enjoyed this evening (Saturday, August 25) that has caused me to think again about the relative nature of safety. After a fifteen-minute walk from my apartment near the Paradise Hotel to the Church of the Nativity and Manger Square, I sat down to eat a falafel sandwich for dinner and observe the people congregating in the square. Perhaps because it was after 8:00 at night, almost all of them were male (ranging from small boys to elderly men), though occasionally a few women or girls would pass by. The boys played soccer, while the teenagers sat and talked. Policemen, and members of the security force wearing camouflage gear and shouldering rifles, watched cars pass by and occasionally questioned drivers. (Two were friendly enough to allow me to take a photograph with them.) At one point a blond man who appeared to be either European or American approached a police officer at the wheel of a van and demonstrated card tricks for him, drawing a small and admiring crowd. “It’s magic,” he explained in English. 
I noticed a group of young men smoking a nargileh (hookah) and asked if I might photograph them. They not only agreed but—demonstrating the hospitality for which Palestinians are rightly admired by foreigners—invited me to join them.Mustafa (at twenty-six, the eldest of the group) spoke English, and he interpreted our conversation for the others. A graduate of Bethlehem University, he was visiting his family on a vacation from his job in Dubai, which is among the most prosperous, modern, and fastest-growing cities in the Arab world. For an hour we discussed life in Bethlehem, the trouble that young people—even those with (advanced) university degrees—have in finding work (the unemployment rate, I’m told, approaches fifty percent), and his desire to emigrate to the United States. “I want to live the American Dream,” he told me with a smile and without a trace of irony—though he also admitted wistfully that even in Dubai he missed Bethlehem and wished conditions would allow him to make a living there. He described the considerable difficulty that Palestinians under forty face in securing permits to pass the Israeli checkpoints that divide Bethlehem from Jerusalem, Ramallah, and other nearby large population centers where they might find work. “It’s like we’re living in a big prison,” he concluded. I wondered whether the checkpoints made everyday Israelis feel safer (a topic I hope to broach with them, provided I can negotiate said checkpoints).
After a pause, Mustafa inquired where in the United States I lived, and when I responded, “Chicago,” his eyes widened a bit. “I hear it’s not safe there,” he said quietly. I laughed and told him that many people in Chicago believed Bethlehem wasn’t safe. “No, no,” he replied with animation. “It’s very safe here! We love peace! Tell them this! You will see this for yourself!”
What I’ve seen again and again, after only five days in Bethlehem, is that the people here are almost unbelievably warm, gentle, and humane. I’ve never felt safer.
Thank you for visiting my blog, which is designed to inform readers about Bethlehem University and to share my experiences there and elsewhere in the Middle East with my colleagues, students, friends, and family--and with anyone who's interested.
The blog will feature not only written postings but also plenty of photographs and videos. I plan to update it as often as possible--at least a few times a week, and perhaps as often as once a day. I encourage you to subscribe in order to receive notifications of updates. If you would like to comment on the postings or suggest a title for the Books and Films list, please contact me at mustafja@lewisu.edu.
From late August until late December, I'll be teaching and learning in the English Department at Bethlehem University. The first question I'm most commonly asked about this journey is "Why do you want to go there?" The answers are simple: because I want very much to become acquainted with the region where my father, uncles, and aunts grew up; because I hope to strengthen the bond between Lewis University and Bethlehem University; because, now more than ever, it's important that the people--especially the young people--of the United States and the Arab world get to know one another, and I'd like to contribute in some small way to that mutual understanding.
The second question I'm often asked is "Will you be safe there?" To be frank, I believe this question reveals a tendency Americans have to conflate the various countries of what we call the "Middle East" (itself a problematic term for various reasons) and to view them all as potentially dangerous. In reality, the "Middle East" is as diverse a region as Europe or the Americas; and (Iraq currently excepted) it's neither more nor less perilous. Furthermore, "dangerous" is a relative term. When I moved from Portland (Oregon) to Philadelphia after graduating from college, Portlanders warned me that Philly was a very violent city controlled by mobsters. Later, Philadelphians wanted to know whether it was safe to visit Portland, since they had heard that gangs from Los Angeles had started to take over some of its neighborhoods. I didn't recognize either city in these descriptions, which were drawn mostly from a few news reports.
I do believe I will be physically safe in Bethlehem--and in Amman and Istanbul and Cairo, all of which I plan to explore. But no doubt my preconceptions about the region, together with my established ideas about teaching and learning and living, will be in considerable danger. It's going to be a very risky experience, and I hope you'll share it with me.
Before I conclude this first posting, let me emphasize that I am by no means an expert on the Middle East, and that I've got a good deal of homework to do before I gain even a basic understanding of its history, politics, and culture. (I'm currently working my way through some of the titles on the Books and Films list.) For this reason, and because I want to focus mostly on life and learning at Bethlehem University, this blog will seldom touch upon those seemingly intractable challenges (such as Islamist radicalism, terrorism, and the Arab-Israeli conflict) that we in the United States tend to associate with the region. That said, getting to know the people of Bethlehem University does mean coming to appreciate the often very difficult conditions under which they live, and certainly I won't shy away from discussing them.
On Monday night I leave Chicago for Amman, Tel Aviv, and finally Bethlehem. In my next posting I'll describe my father's emigration from Palestine to the United States in the 1950s, and my first impressions of Bethlehem.
Thank you again for your interest in the blog. I hope you'll keep me company during the next few months.
