Americana

I was going to write this for Independence Day, but I got tied up with other things. It’s harder and harder to bring myself to write about my time here to a public audience I can’t see or hear feedback from. I figure that everything I would have to say is too depressing or too commonplace for me by now. Nevertheless, I am going to write something today about being an American here in Nablus.

When people ask me where I am from, I do not hesitate to say that I am American. I try and deliver it as neutrally as possible, as if I’m stating the weather or the time. To me it is a fairly neutral issue, after all. I happened to be born somewhere. What of it? And sometimes this is all that it is, something neutral like the weather. Sometimes it is different.

A few people have asked me to teach them the American accent in English. I don’t know why, but it is a pretty silly thing to ask someone. I didn’t even know you could teach accents! One person was very pleased to hear that an Egyptian friend of mine sounds like he was born in New Jersey just after 7 years of being there. “See?” he said to his friend. “Just seven years!” Just!

Other times it is not so neutral or pleasant. Mostly they talk about Bush. They’ll say his name and spit on the ground or grind their shoe into the dirt. A pharmacist told me he hated Bush and that America was a factory of terrorists. His sister pointed out that now Obama was president. A lot of people ask me about Obama. Do you like him. Do you think he is a good man. Do you think he will help Palestine. “Ya’ani,” I say. Maybe. Sort-of. It’s a cop-out answer, this ya’ani of mine, because I can’t communicate well enough that I don’t think that Obama will help much at all. They think Huwarra is open and the soldiers don’t come as much because of Obama and his pals but it’s really because the people of Palestine are waiting with baited breath for something to happen. They’re so quiet right now you could hear a pin drop. They want so badly for us to understand and empathize with them, but even if we did, it couldn’t change much.

For example, take this recent seizure and arrest of internationals off the coast of Gaza. Other countries have openly demanded the immediate release of their citizens, but the United States stays quiet. “No comment.” Imagine for a moment if Iran had seized a ship full of humanitarian aid and forcibly arrested a former congressman and Nobel Prize laureate. Can you imagine the same reaction? Look at how it is with the settlements. We say stop. The whole world says stop. Israel shuffles their feet.  I’ve had people tell me that if America stops shipping guns, parts to planes, and billions of dollars in aid, that surely Israel would stop their aggression. This is not true. We are not going to stop supporting Israel. Americans can see it when they call our bluffs. We look like fools when they smirk and roll their eyes at our most basic complaints.

Every time a jet screams overhead I can hear the money falling out of my pocket. Every gunshot, every settlement street lamp, every pointed gun, tear gas, tears, bloody stories, every shot of adrenaline I feel.. every time these things happen I think about America. I can’t help it.

I didn’t celebrate the 4th of July not just because it seemed gauche to do so in a country that may never celebrate its own independence but because I’ve been a little uncertain about what there is to celebrate nowadays. When I get home and get into prividleged space again, perhaps things will change. But I don’t feel sad anymore when a translator fails to mention that I’m from America. I understand completely.

After all I’ve seen and heard, I am surprised I’m even welcome here. Americans are as diverse as they come personally, but we stand behind one flag internationally and our government has shamed me while I am here. The people of Palestine would offer anyone the chance to be a decent human being, I am sure of it, mostly because I am received warmly despite the hellfire America has paid for to rain down upon them in places like Gaza and Nablus.

So, despite the despair and shame I feel from America’s involvement with the conflict, at the same time the forgiving attitude I experience is another thing to appreciate about the Palestinians and one more thing to learn about treating others in a decent way.

I am homesick sometimes, though. Don’t get me wrong. I feel that my home and the America I know here are two different places. When I get back I look forward to taking my scooter on that ride I missed in May, to sitting out on the water and eating some fresh seafood and enjoying the sunset. I look forward to spending time with my family and loved ones. I will only wish I could afford the same rights to everyone.

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