Bounded by walls of a father

Dear reader, 

 Ive said in my last post that I found a fatherstructor. I'd like to talk more about that.

 While i was in the havoc and the loud noises of my peers in NIR school my family met together in Jordan. I sent them a message telling my relative to say hi to everybody and hug my grandfather very tightly for me. 

 While I was in my break the next day my relative sent me a video. I walked away from my friends and opened the video. 
 There i saw a figure in the far distance. The figure was standing near a green backyard. He was wearing an old thawb (Arab man dress) and was looking far away. 
 My relative called his name multiple times but he didn't hear her. She came closer and whispered to him: Malak is watching this. 
He smiled but sadness covered his face. He did not show his aging broken teeth. His eyes gleamed. He said something but i couldn't hear it. (I had already broken down at that time). The video ended with my relative hugging my grandfather. Then she switched the camera at them and said: Malak me and grandpa miss you very much.

 My knees crushed down and i fell. I opened my mouth to a silent sob. My whole existence was filled up with salty tears. I couldn't hold myself anymore. Somebody found me in that state and got worried and tried to silent me. But i wasn't around him anymore. I was thinking about all the possibilities that are gone now.

I only saw my grandfather five times throughout my whole life. In my memory they appear as flashbacks of my childhood. Just like a movie unraveling. Few seconds of myself running around his house at five, watching him making coffee at nine, crying, begging not to leave him at twelve and my fifteen year old self sitting next to him with my mother and grandmother on the ground while he talked about the time when he became a refugee. About the time when he first laid eyes on my grandmother when he couldn't blink his eyes until he had her.

My grandfather wasn't a person who was around me while growing up. But the few time that i saw him were enough to establish real connection with him as if the time we spent apart didn't really matter.  Every time i visited him i begged to stay. But there was always a person to take me away from him.
This time it was death.

My grandfather was diagnosed with cancer a few months earlier. At that time it didn't reach me because my mother is the only person that mattered to me. I tried to support her but now it hit me at once. The fear that backed everything I did in life.

The thawb, his soft hugs and his amazing smell will be forever lost from the universe. Lost from my weak reaching hands.

Friends asked me why don't i visit him? Why not check up on him?
I tried to explain my situation.
My parents are divorced. I couldn't visit my grandfather because my father wont give me the permission to. I am trapped in Palestine unable to reach granddad. I thought that when i turn eighteen I'll have the ability to stay with him as long as I want to and nobody will take me from him. That was the plan until a few months ago.

Then they asked the drastic question. Why wont your father let you go ?
How do i explain how much he hates me ? How much he doesn't care about my feelings? How when i told him about my grandfathers' state he laughed.
There i completely broke down unable to stop the tears. Reaching Hysteria. He laughed at my grandfathers death. The person who stood up with my father against the whole family. Even his daughter. The first death I will ever face.

The students called an instructor. He was a physiologist. A good one in my opinion. I sat with him. He nodded and said. Your grandfather ?
I had already told him about it. It was great having a person who knew.
We started talking. Going back further and further into my childhood. The silent pauses chocked me.
He nodded and asked which made it easier. Then he talked about his experiences with abused women. There I developed that feeling that I hear girls talk about. How they look up to someone. A father figure I guess. A figure I've never had.
He cursed at how the situation is. He really understood the situation with my father. How a domineering, cynical cunning man can ruin a life that I own. How law doesn't help at all. But only takes away even more of your rights and money. But truly now I understand that I don't own my life. Its owned by a man. Any man. Father, husband and maybe my child.


My grandfather now is at his home in Jordan. Happy. I told him to come to Palestine. Maybe he'll find better treatment but he wont leave his land again. Last time he did he couldn't come back. He addresses his illness in the best way possible. He doesn't let it affect him. When I miss him I look at the coin album he gave me when i was nine. Coins from all different places put in it. Some are 100 years old or more. He told me that he thinks I'll travel all around the world and complete what he started. I'm afraid I wont be able to do that. I'll always be bounded by walls of a father. Walls of a man.

Found a fatherstructor

Dear readers,

Im fine, thank you. I hope you are too.

I've spent the last week in a hostel with 50 students in a program called the NIR school of the heart.
The program brings Palestinians, Israelis and Jordanians to teach us about everything involving the heart. There were also some unspecified lectures that were more cultural. Trying to teach the students the importance of social involvement.
I was discouraged to come to the program. Wanting to stick with my family this while. But i did leave everything to join these students.

I got in thinking that I've got it. I can study. I can relate to the students. No problem. But then when observing the instructors i saw that they acted strange. They joked all the time and had something weird about them. Now i know that NIR proudly has a knack of choosing retarded people of course this includes me.

Quickly dissing battles and private parts jokes started to rise up. Something very unnerving to me. But a couple of days later i found myself getting out of my seat spitting a lame yo mama joke and saw that people were encouraging me to continue. Which in turn increased my energy and ability to act like the weird person i am. The weird thing though is that i wasn't being judged. In fact i was applauded for my obsession with butts. No wonder we called ourselves Hard Attacks.

The week went on fast starting and ending with lectures and activities. We've built strong relationships on the first 4 days and challenged how strong they are on the other 3 days.
The instructors stimulated a family like relationship between us through insulting jokes and deep meaningful hugs. As if creating a comfort zone outside of our own comfort zone.

All the instructors were devoted passionate people. Some volunteered with their knowledge. Others with time to complete a satisfying experience within the school. One that i can now look back to and smile with gratitude.

I had one instructor though that truly had an impact on me. His tight hugs and caring words reminded me of how a father should be. I couldn't but help take him as a father figure. As the figure that is keeping me intact throughout the sessions. Running to him as soon as i see him. I feel very pathetic. I dont feel brave. I just feel stupid.


On the 5th days we started to think more political. Discussing topics that no other program dares to. The difference between the Israeli and the Palestinian was pretty obvious. We said staggering comments and unexplained statements. Barely listening to each other. But still we cared about each other which made or at least for me made my relationships stronger.

I myself made references to anne frank who is an important figure for me. I tried to show the resemblance  between her and Gazans. How both couldn't and cant sleep because of the sound of rockets. I tried to describe a picture of gazans for them. A family warned by a mini rocket to take everything of significance out of the house in half a second. I asked them what they would take? Money ? Their kids ? Pictures of their childhood ? All in half a minute.

It was obvious how big the miscommunication is when it comes to facts and dates. We both had minimal knowledge about the other. What for them is the independence day for me is the Nakba (catastrophe) the death of a prime minister for them was significant while i couldn't even pronounce his name.

Personally, the program affected me in a strong way.

It first showed me that i can have an impact on people. During the political talks i must have said something that triggered people to think.
In an activity where when asked who of the students made you think the most people looked for me. Suddenly i was surrounded by bodies touching me from all sides. I was surprised at first but then appalled. I looked up and their eyes grabbed me. They gleamed as if they are proud of their choice. Smiled as if totally sure of it.
For a first i felt like my words are not meaningless letters thrown into the void. They had a meaning and they were listened to. They might even have an effect. I touched people which makes me worry. Did i have a positive impact ? Is considering my thoughts for them something hurtful ?

The confidence and the knowledge that every part of me is there for an important reason is empowering.

My Ramadan

A sigh of guilt hovers over me whenever i do anything I enjoy. This includes writing on my blog. This is one of the many many drawbacks of IGCSE. I'm finishing up the last of the three dreadful months of exam which were more than enough to turn me into a psycho. But now I've convinced myself to write although i feel like i dont deserve it.

My school offers options that no other school offers. When entering high school you could either enroll in the IGCSE stream (if your grades permit) or just do Tawjihi tests. These are the standardized testing over here. They are done in 11th and 12th grade. They are so hard, so nerve-racking that people actually commit suicide because of them. Afterwards marks are spat out on a local TV channel. Oh, you screwed up in ur exam and failed dont worry not just your relatives and your classmates will know about it but the whole Palestinian community too ;) good luck. 

Thus in an attempt of running away of all the baggage that comes with Tawjihi i got into that IG-thing. Now i'm starting to feel the drawbacks. This stream is much more serious than Tawjihi. We start doing officials two years before normal Palestinian students. So while my friends are out partying i'm staying in my bed studying (which i strongly prefer).

The British obviously didn't notice that June is the holy month of ramadan when they scheduled the tests. Either that or they meant it and i cant make myself believe the later. We fast from sun break till sundown. Ramadan includes exceptional ultimate laziness from before iftar (the meal we eat at sun break) and after iftar. After my first meal I am just so heavy i can barely breathe. 

Surprisingly to everyone, I fast. I enjoy fasting I've been doing it ever since i was seven. Its a way to share the same feeling with your family. A way to honor the same sick feelings of torture i had when i was a kid. I especially love the feeling I get when water moves through my oesophagus after a desert appeared there. I guess I've alway been a psycho.

I ignore the raised eyebrows and doubtful tone people shoot at me when they ask if i fast. As if fasting is only a privilege to Religious folks. I fast because i want to fast. I want to feel hungry. I want to feel unable like the unfortunate. I challenge myself in ramadan. I know how strong i am because i had real rough days while fasting. You see, ramadan is not just about food its about morals too. Its about behavior and giving back. Its obvious that i am very fond of it.

As a tradition my family and i vist the Aqsa mosque every year to have iftar right beside thousands of muslim families. All joined up together on one table on the holy ground of the Aqsa. 

I don't think this will be possible this year. Two days ago two Palestinians in two suits sat in two seats in a cafe in tel aviv pulled two guns and killed 5 Israeli civilians. I frown at this not because they were civilians but because what i know about ramadan is that it brings peace. Peace of mind and soul. How can somebody do such a foul act in Ramadan? How can they KILL in the holiest month of the year ? Don't underestimate the word kill. Its a word we've gotten used to but still the truth doesn't tarnish when it comes to the word kill. 

This act doesnt just affect all the poeple who walked or couldve walked there it also greatly affects us Palestinian people. Palestinians applying for permssion to get into jerusalem from the west bank are going to be refused as a punishment not allowig thousands of muslims from reaching the holy mosque. The mosque and the old city won't light up like every year.

I visited the old city tonight. It has always been a place of tension but this act tightened the tension hundreds nay thousands of teenagers hovered around the old city tonight provoking the Israeli soldiers and police. In any minute a fight could and probably eventually will break out. The teenagers sang provocative patriotic songs aloud. In my eyes they dont appear to do this because they are driven by the love for their country, they think the rifles that are with the 17 year soldiers and plastic toys. Nothing more fun than an angry soldier. Most markets are closed. Police are everywhere asking everybody if they are muslim. Ramadan is not the same. There are no lights. I cant feel that warm feeling inside me anymore. I dont see kids running around. There are no food kiosks. I just see men provoking everybody including me. Giving me looks asking how dare I reach the old city ?

I try hard to get that fuzzy feeling of ramadan but with these continous disappoints and attacks that is not possible but the moon is not going anywhere any time soon. Its always going to stay up and we'll always have ramadan light glowing around us i hope that one day peace will prevail the old city. Peace i've never seen there before.

An unidentified selfish 15 year old skinny rat

A friend today commented saying that she is waiting for my next post. My heart broke. I wanted to cry for help. My not writing makes me feel very guilty. I think about millions of posts and i write them but then i judge myself and i am not satisfied. They are all fake in my eyes. How can i fix something that is wrong with me ? I did what i do best. Speak truthfully from the heart.
I hope this one works out.

My family has been nagging for the past week about going to Eilat (A city in the south of palestine). I hate eilat. I've been to it so many times that i remember all of its streets by heart. We could've gone anywhere else. But going abroad for my family is prohibited because my parents are divorced.Eventually i convinced myself that it would be nice. I thought about laying in the sun reading a book. I agreed but it didn't matter they would go whether i did or not.

I've heard so much about Ben gurion airport and how badly they treat people. I wasn't surprised when i saw the long line. I wasn't surprised when they stopped every male Palestinian for a half a hour interrogation. As a matter of fact only the israelis in the back of the line were surprised. They weren't used to that treatment. They don't go through check points nor waited in a line for hours for no apparent reason. The Palestinians and i were more than used to it. Its a lifestyle. At least for me it was. I was born here i know the feeling of not understanding their language. Of being criticized integrated and checked but my mother wasn't. Shes from abroad. She still gets angry when they tell us to go to the side for personal check.

In Eilat nobody can say whether we were Palestinians or not. So we were treated with respect maybe they treated us this way to get our money. I think that some israelis hate that sometimes they need our money and that sometimes they work for us. I've noticed that we were the only arabs in the hotel. It was filled up with israelis on the first day. But then the next day was filled with arabs. A day separated each side from staying at the same hotel. As if they weren't allowed to stay together or sleep together in the same place.

The city was filled up with french jews. My brother and i tried to talk to them but they flinched away. They saw we were arabs and turned their faces away.What i saw and felt is that they couldn't stand talking to us nor being acquainted to us. They refused us. The jews that were staying in Israel had no problem with us. They didn't prefer it but yala life goes on. For them staying with arabs is a life style too. Arabs are not a strange idea. I couldn't stop asking. Are we lead by the jews from the outside ? The ones that don't want to identify us ? If so of course the peace accords wouldn't be working.
I must say. Im comfortable with israelis. Of course not all of them. But little by little we are getting accustomed to each other and our weird habits. Like a newly wed couple who only met on their wedding day although they don't want to meet they are urged by how strong headed they are. This couple also reminds me of angry teenagers. Each side is right and there is no doubt about it. I hate sitting back and watching this bloodful show. Like a parent watching her son make a mistake. But my hands are tied with barbed wires cutting into my skin and my lips are closed by fear.

The way that these french jews refused me reminded me when i once went to a jewelry shop in jerusalem. I talked to the shop keeper with a mixture of english and hebrew. While i was purchasing my item the woman asked me when i came back to the promised land. I looked at her stunned. I told her that i was born here. She asked me what school i go to. I couldnt mouth my schools name. I thought i would throw up if i did. So i responded with "i go to the anglican school" ( which is an expensive mixed school). I didnt say it because i thought my school wasnt worthy. Its because i didnt know any other school that had both arabs and israelis. I wanted her to mistake me with anybody but who i am. I did all of that scenario just because i didnt want her to flinch away from me when she learns I'm a palestinian. I didnt want her to step away and Give me a disgusted look. After all i am a 15 year old. I act as if i'm strong. As if this conflict doesnt affect me . But oh it does. I still run away from racism. I still get hurt when an israeli woman tells me to stop speaking arabic in the mall. Lik a little girl i cant stand these disgusted looks. I want to live in peace. I dont care about both sides i selfishly only care about myself and my family. I only can and want to protect them. I dont want my dead body splashed around in the media saying how an another attack killed a palestinian. I want to be an another death. I want my own death. I dont want a big funeral visited by everybody i dont know as if i am memorized by the martyr that I was not. I am only a selfish 15 year old nobody. Sending out thoughts as if they matter. I get a heart attack when i imagine my brother or my best friend in the same situation. I dont want to fight. I want to hide. But there is no where to hide. There's no where to escape. Jerusalem tricks you into falling deep whether you want it or not.

Ive been meaning to say this for a while. All palestinians should fight for the cause. Teens my age are dying proudly on the streets giving their bodies away to the great cause with smiles on their faces. They are not scared so why am i ? Why cant i feel this strong feeling of love for my country why cant i stand up to a soldier like all of them ? I am only a skinny rat who only wants to save her skin.
I cant be a Palestinian then. I am not an israeli too. I am barely a jordanian. I dont fit anywhere. I
have no identity. No i am an identity-less skinny rat. No wonder i am an outcast.

When we arrived to the air port in Eilat A woman working in the airport took us by hand and of course had to do the personal check up for the terrorists. She checked everything we had. But then wouldnt leave us. She went with us through every stage. Because she worked in the airport we didnt wait in any of the long lines. The interesting thing was the looks of the french jews who asked who are they ? Why didnt they wait in the line ? They dont have the right to do that.
I guess my potentially being a terrorist helped me get a VIP pass.

How I became disassociated with religion

Dear readers

I've dared to release myself from the bounds of religion at a very young but critical age in my conservative community. I look back now and I'm trying to define the moment that turned me into this fearless, unapologetic girl.

Just like any muslim home mine had several quran books. I never considered them but feared them as my mother used to say that if you ruin a quran book by writing on it you will be damned. We had some quranic sayings written across the walls but i never read them. My father prayed. I laugh at how once i tried praying but failed horribly. My mother really hated everything related to religion although she was born in Saudi Arabia.

I was raised in a christian school. I didn't know christians and jews were our enemies in terms of who gets heaven. My school did not consider it their job to enhance our knowledge of the other religion. All i knew was that they didn't share the same religion classes as us and sometimes said stuff that were contradictory to what my religion teacher said. Back when i believed everything she said.

In fourth grade a new religion teacher stepped into our class. She was an overweight hijabi woman. She had a sweet voice and hid under a compassionate smile but i could still see her mean looks when nobody else was looking. She sat on a chair and started drawing mathematical diagrams of islam that nobody understood. Then started to mark lines underneath important passages in our religion book for the upcoming test. Marking every quranic passage as one to memorize. She didn't discuss anything with us. We just have to study for the test. She was practically asking for my hatred.

 This woman started my track of hating religion. She made it a subject of memorization for an impossible tests. I studied her tests more than math but still failed.
Till then i didn't know that i was studying islam without my choice.
I sensed how wrong some texts were in our religion book. When i ask about them the teacher would blow me off. I was alone in a class full of  students who would agree with the teacher without thinking twice and there i became best friends with Adam*
He was just like me. He didn't believe the teacher nor the book. We Became friends over laughing and talking about her. We would say some witty comments in class. When i argued with the teacher i had a back to protect me . We were together ON this.

Adam was like me he grew up with the possibility of asking how and why. His culture was different that is why in sixth grade Adam had to leave for London. My back was gone. I became a baby with no bones just MOLDY TISSUES. I was alone with a teacher smirking at me because she knew that now she got me. That i could either fail or just shut up and listen to her.

I listened. I didn't argue. I studied the tests and failed . I knew that if i went too far with my thoughts she would fail me. It was an unspoken agreement within us but i still thought about God and religion. Nobody could stop these thoughts not even myself.

And so one day in 8th grade my teacher was being mean to me. I was worked up because i was struggling to keep what i have to say for 4 years. I stood up in class i looked her in the eye and told her that she had no saying in this and got out of the class. I went to my principal. Sat in a chair and told him calmly that i got out of the class because i could not take her anymore. He was shocked. I was the type of girl every teacher loved. He took me to the teacher to say sorry but i still had lots to say.

I looked at her and said that because of her now i hate religion that she teaches it wrong. Its all just passages to memorize for a test that i will fail and that she is so lazy she never moves out of her chair unless the principal was called for.
My classmates were giggling to themselves. I didn't want them to giggle but support me so i finished of with: Its not just me its the whole class.
It was true all of them spoke behind her back. I was the only brave person to tell her that in front of her face.
They all looked at me in a poker face. As  if they didn't understand me.

That was the first shock i got from my community. I thought that they had my back because this is what they really thought but they didn't care about fixing things they only wanted to save their butts.
Now i was proud but screwed.

In the summer of 8th grade Adam told me what he really thought about religion. He told me that sometimes he didn't believe in God that there were so many unanswered questions in his head. That it was all so ambiguous. He tried to confine in me but i was shocked. I never expected to hear such words. I was programed to believe in God. I was afraid that listening to him would also make me question the only ground i had. That i will become a kafer (infidel) who i was supposed to  condemn. I screamed at him. Trying to convince him and myself with rubbish.
He was in london. He could be an infidel. I'm in Jerusalem if i said such a thing i'll be condemned. I was scared but the bitter truth was that eventually i was going to think the same way. I was going to figure out that my ground was light and feathery filled up with lies.

 I didn't know that there was a choice of not believing in God until a breeze swept the feathers away and i fell. Hard.

I entered 9th grade with ease. I had a new class because i changed schools. The religion teacher was a nice woman who didnt just line up passages but now all hope was gone for me. This idea of not studying relegion Was buzzing in my head. I was still the only girl who argued with the teacher about what she said . I wasn't afraid anymore. Sometimes almost on the verges of really becoming a kafer inside the class.
Im not close to my classmates because of these religious views. I'm considered weird and a disgrace because i show my controversial thoughts in the open.
I'm brave i ask the question they think but hide.( This doesn't apply on all my classmates)
Such as why does a woman stay 3 months in her house when her husband dies ?
Why cant i have half the inheritance not 1/3 ?
Why did the perfect God change his mind repeatedly and create different imperfect religions all centered in jerusalem ? Knowing that we humans are troublesome.
These unanswered questions or their silly responses made me rebel.

In 10 grade i really opened up. I was angry about all the time i lost listening to the trash the religion teachers say. I figured out i could be anything. I stopped praying in the morning with my class. Instead i go to my locker and move around between the frozen statues of my classmates.

I was able to speak up and think this way because my mother raised me differently. She got a  divorce when i was 9 so i got away from the praying father. Having no man to tell us what to do in the house made it possible for me to think about the universe and God. Also my best friend Adam who is now a real atheist didn't help much in my process of becoming religious.

Last year i posted how i hated islam and seriously was considering changing into an another religion i got 10s of comment telling me of how can i  do this and how can i say such stuff. How a disgrace i was. I even learned that i should be killed.

Now seriously, for me all religions are horrible. I was just angry.
Being muslim and not believing in islam for me was like being gay and unable to be open about it. I went to my principal asking him to stop studying islam. Asking to read instead or study christianity just for information. He completely refused and said that this would bring a bad image to the school then called on my mother but she laughed about it.


In my family I'm considered as a disgrace but i like it when they give me the you are a lost case look. Its worse when they try to convince me to stop what I'm doing and go back to my senses. I want to use the part of my brain which shuts down when i believe in God. I want common sense.

 I still partially believe in God and still consider myself muslim. I just dont do all the islamic ways of thanking him and remembering him for example i dont pray at all but enjoy fasting in ramadan as a way of bringing the family together.  There are many positive sides of islam. (although there are some bad stuff too). Yes islam is viewed wrongly by the media but I've chosen to stay away from any religion because the the circumstances didn't help me. Note that my views are still undecided.

My community is a great one and i went to emphasize on how lots of individuals in my community supported me. When i say community i mean the few people that i've met.


*  I changed the name.

Fading away

Dear readers,

I just found out the cons of documenting every part of my day. Not every moment of my day is a good one. Not every thing i do I'm proud of.
I wrote a post naming it rich folks where i judgmentally wrote about people i barely spoke with calling them names and degrading them. I didn't give them a chance. I was just so into the moment i didn't think ahead. I didn't think about who i was hurting and how i wasn't hurting them with the truth because this is not who they are. I was just being cocky. I want to appoligise to them and specifically this one girl on my mind and i promise i won't hurt anybody again on this blog.

What i want to talk about is my experience being away from home in the MEET conference (read the post jungle hunger to know what MEET is).
In my eyes my year is divided into three main groups : Arabs speaking arabic together, Israelis speaking hebrew together and the neutral ones they are from both the sides and speak english together.

Coming into MEET i stayed at least two days with each group studying them. After the summer i knew for sure that i was an individual. I didn't fit in any of the groups. I didn't understand hebrew i couldn't make the arabs laugh nor understand their jokes (which I'm sure are good) and the neutral where too active and loud even for me.

So i stayed alone. Sometimes staying with the arabs but mostly i would sit with some other individuals and that is where i met Noam.
I met Noam in the summer. We connected over American TV shows and books. We used to watch Pretty Little Liars together and talk non stop about everything. Agreeing on everything.
We even planned to meet each other after the summer. I remember once when i looked at her on the bus and promised myself that i would be connected with her even without the help of MEET.
But that never happened.

After the summer i was hit with the truth. There was still an unsafe and violent situation around. An arab hanging with an Israeli wasn't the image to be seen. I ran from the dates that noam would set and never show up but i still loved her inside.
The moment i looked at her in the first session of the yearlong i knew that something changed. There was a political wall now between us . The young girls watching PLL and playing charades protected by the fake walls of a summer camp are gone.

I didn't try to reconcile. I depended on the summer to fix what was broken. The summer could bring everything i thought.
When i came to the meet conference i didn't see her around but didn't notice that until she came late at night. I didn't say hi nor hugged her. We got used to that.
The next day while i was sitting with some kids from nazareth in meet i looked at my phone and found that Noam left the meet group. I ran to my TA  Naomi asking her about Noam and where she was. She affirmed what i had feared.
A shock went through me. I thought of us smiling at each other promising to stay friends. I thought about the first time i saw her after the summer. I thought about the next summer and how i was going to fix it. I was too late and she was gone.
I dont know why i asked Naomi for Noam's number i already had it but i took it and called her. Her voice was weak and calm but sad. She told me she left because of her and that she didn't stay because  she didn't want to.

I helped her leave. I ignored her and the wall between us thinking that the summer was going to come sooner or later. I imagined us graduating together but now thats gone.
Its not just Noam that is gone now lots of Israeli girls left MEET. Its mostly arabs now.
Getting into meet, saying these tearful goodbyes in the summer. I didn't believe that anybody would want to leave. The ones i was connected to most are now fading so fast i can't stop it.
I went to the Arab girls telling them about Noam. They hit me with how it doesn't matter and how better it is that there are more arabs now.
I was losing every part of meet that i knew. I was losing the thing i thought i knew. Its like i was wrapped up in a warm blanket and was uncovered in a matter of seconds.

I thought about me staying alone last night thinking how cold i was. How depressed i felt. How hard I've been trying to connect with anybody while she was a matter of seconds away from me. I could've stopped her.

I didn't think i was going to cry. I went to Naomi to get a grip on what is happening. I was surprised that when i really needed it i went to her not to any other Palestinian TA. I found myself crying to her. I told her how i could see my year leaving in front of me and i couldn't prevent it.
I told her how lonely i am and how i wish i fitted with anybody. I wanted to tell her about Noam but i couldn't tell her what i had lost.
She held me to her and talked some sense into me. She encouraged me and showed me the bright side of not belonging. How being unattached to a group made me free to try and meet. How i have reached a higher level than them but that didn't help i cried more thinking i want to be in their same level.
I stopped crying when she told me how i remind her of herself in my age. Trying to do the same thing but also failing. I was surprised that she found something in me that was like her. I didn't expect to do that to Noami. I saw truth and trust in her blue eyes. I saw kindness and care that i didn't see in anybody but my mother and with that i was able to wipe my tears and look forward to the future although i couldn't see anything encouraging in it.

I stood up and washed my face. I hugged her like i used to hug Noam when i cried in the summer. All i thought about was to get myself working and out of this situation. I went to a computer and started working on the game i was supposed to do and this somehow helped.

If you are reading this Noam I'm sorry i didn't come to the dates we arranged. I'm sorry i didn't hug you. I'm sorry i broke my promise and I'm sorry i waited for the summer. The nice thing about it is that i can still imagine us graduating together hand in hand with our MEET diplomas.

A first

I woke up on Saturday with mom screaming "we're late" which is something I'm used to.  I got my things together and we were off to ramallah for an appointment. We spent lots of time in ramallah wether walking in the city buying KFC (not for us) or the amazing ice cream that could only be found in Ramallah named Rokab.
If you dont know Ramallah is in the west bank. The part that belongs to Palestinians and is only inhibited by Palestinians.

I looked at my phone and it was 5. I was supposed to be at home at 6 because i was going to pack my bags for a night with meet in neve shalom (wahet il salam ) which is close to tel aviv. I didn't panic Ramallah is only 15 minutes away from Jerusalem i expected the check point to be empty but that was something that no smart person should do.
As i arrived to the check point it looked like god turned against. Telling me that I'll never reach Jerusalem. The check point was filled with thousands of cars. We tried numerous check points trying to find a way through but the only thing that was to be done was to throw me into the streets. I had to walk through the check point, again expecting it be empty.

It would be the first time that i ever walk alone in a check point I thought. Having to speak to a soldier and being checked by myself. I put on a fake composed voice and a stern face and looked at my mom. We both gave instructions to each other and i flung myself out of the car taking with me some money, my mothers id to pass with as i am registered with her which is the only way i can reach Jerusalem and two iPhones ( freaking iPhones don't have battery when you need them).

I went through cars beeping at me and people screaming at each other with my brother following me. When i arrived at the check point i looked at the maze of iron in front of me and turned into a five your old. All i wanted to do now was not leave my brother. I would do anything to stay safe and sound in my mothers car but i had no time so i ran into the maze.

Looking at the people ahead of me they were 10. I looked at the women in front of me and asked "how long would this take?"
One smiled "hmm 30, 45 minutes its based on the soldiers mood" she said
Me and 70 other students in a bus depend right now on a soldiers mood.
I waited and waited shifting to sides and calling whoever i can but the line never moved. A man would be checked for 10 minutes and was asked many questions. I couldn't ask the people to go in front of them i just couldn't i had to wait and be late its because i expected.
A woman in the front of the line whispered my name and winked I've never seen her before but i moved forward and didn't think about my mother warning me not to speak to anybody.
"Are you Mirvat's daughter ?"she asked.
I smiled a giant smile and told her how late i am and wether i could go in front of her. She let me.
After 3 men i arrived to the face of the soldier that got me late. I looked at him and he was a pathetic 19 year old. I raised my chin and talked to him in english knowing that any word in arabic or hebrew or my nervous voice would let me stay there for another 5 minutes. He couldn't answer me he probably didn't speak english. I made him feel embarrassed. He didn't ask for the ID. He didn't need the ID now.
Thats the trick dont be a Palestinian and ur good to go.

For a first time i handled that well. I thought about my family there waiting behind the maze and how i didn't want to arrive home by myself but i just faced it. Trying to convince myself that I'm alright but till the next day i didn't feel alright.

Wether it matters or not i arrived 15 minutes late to the meet hub. Got into the bus but this meet conference wasn't a jubilant experience and i'll be talking about that in the my post.