1. Kubbe. I accompanied my roommate one day this week to her field site, a neighborhood slightly east of where we live: Schunat HaTikva, or the “Neighborhood of Hope.” I have been hearing for weeks about this tiny, hole-in-the-wall restaurant where the owner has been dishing up kubbe for nearly half a century. For those of you who aren’t familiar wtih this particular dish, kubbe is a Middle Eastern version of an empanada: meat stuffed into various types of dough [semolina, rice]. The Lebanese and Syrian versions are made into torpedo shapes and fried, but this places served Iraqi-style kubbe: a semolina flour version, steamed and served with amba, a mango pickle sauce. See for yourself:
The restaurant is known for its kubbe, but they also serve up more parts of a cow’s body than most of you would like to think about [lung, anyone?]. As a bonus of sorts, we were served stuffed intestine [filled with rice and meat]. It wasn’t bad, actually…
2. Pita. Between interviews in Jerusalem this past Thursday, I stopped at a bakery near Machne Yehuda, the open air market, for some Iraqi pita [like the kind you see above]. I ordered my pita from the baker in Arabic, asking a [probably very funny sounding] question about how well it would keep for multiple days. This funny sounding question led to a lengthy discussion [well over 30 minutes] with my new friend Hassan and his co-worker Zion, about people, friends, life, and politics. Nearly all in Arabic, I should add. And I should also add – I understood most of it. Not bad considering how little I’ve used the language in the past few months. But mostly it was yet more evidence of how little it takes – just a question, and a funny sounding one at that – to show people that you care enough to try.
…And just how little showing that you care enough to try translates into new friends. Hassan, my new baker friend, took my number and called me later on to make sure I had his. [Funny but true: I was on the way back to Tel Aviv when he called, sitting next to an Arabic speaking woman. She laughed out loud when she heard my Arabic…but complimented me on trying, at least. Ha.].
Here’s Hassan doing what he does best:
3. Olives. And Politics. I bought the pita for a trip I took Friday with Rabbis for Human Rights* [RHR] to accompany Palestinian farmers harvesting their olives. The organization accompanies Palestinians 6 days a week, throughout the year – during the planting, pruning, plowing, and harvest seasons. We’re nearing the end of the harvest season now.
Our group – about 10 of us – headed to the settlement of Tsufim:
Why to Tsufim, if we were accompanying Palestinian olive harvesters? Well, turns out that this particular family’s olive groves are within the settlement itself. That means that in addition to having to obtain permission to cross the separation barrier, they had to get permission from the settlement to enter their land [whose land??] to pick their olives.
The day itself was relatively uneventful, politically-speaking. No settlers bothered us, and in the 5 hours we were there, we managed to finish harvesting most of the olives on the trees [we worked on about 10 trees – the family has about 30 overall, and had already been to the area twice for harvesting in the week before this one]. I managed to use my Arabic some more with the family we had joined, but once the talk turned political [“what led you to join us today? Why are you here?”] I struggled to express myself and we switched to English, instead.
The day in pictures:
* One of the more thoughtful gifts Neil and I received for our wedding was a donation made by my brother and sister-in-law in our name, to this organization, in order to help them plant new olive trees. The organization plants trees to replace ones that have been cut or burnt down by Israeli settlers. Having now been out with RHR and having a better understanding of the reality of the olive trees – I now appreciate this gift all the more. Thank you…