Letter from Israel

DAVID EHRLICH SPECIAL TO THE JEWISH BULLETIN

The intifada started more than two years ago. I would love to tell you where it came from and where it's going but, honestly, I don't have much wisdom to share. But my leftist heart tells me there's got to be a solution. Living in eternal war is not a possibility.

Whatever happens, we've got to strive to coexist with our neighbors. I'm aware that it's almost a contradiction. If what Palestinians want is to throw us out of this land, why would anybody trust their promises? On the other hand, there's no unanimous body of Palestinians who think the same thing. There's got to be a way for their independent state to live side by side with ours. Yet, if there's one lesson I'm convinced about from the intifada, it's that we can't afford to be weak or naive. Whatever happens, we need to be strong and capable of defending ourselves.

Early this summer, I gave lectures in California about the crisis here and life through it. Partly, it was my creative way to look for alternative income to support my café, Tmol-Shilshom, financially. The situation had reached this sad stage in which I had to support my business rather than having it support me. In my lectures, I described my experiences at the café when bombs went off around us, and how we tried to make sense of what didn't make any sense.

A lot of people were amazed to learn about the coexistence of Palestinian and Israeli employees at Tmol. That we could still keep friendly relationships sounded bizarre.

I had to admit that, in the peak of the tragic events, I wondered what would happen if one of my Palestinian employees decided to join the intifada actively. I know better than to assume that terror is a sporadic act; it's become accepted by the majority of Palestinians. But there was no way I'd fire anybody just because they were an Arab.

The Palestinians are dependent on our economy. It will take a long while for them to develop their own, which won't happen before they have some sort of independence, which is not going to happen as long as the current crisis is going on. Working in the Jewish part of Jerusalem is the main opportunity for Arabs here to make a decent living (about half of the Palestinians in the territories are unemployed).

In August, we all went to a Tmol staff party in Tel-Aviv. Afterward, some of us went to the beach: it occurred to me how unusual and refreshing it was for the Palestinians among us, who avoid hanging out in Jewish areas because they could be questioned or harassed by the police. It was surreal to drink coffee by the water in the most pleasant and peaceful way, Jews and Arabs together, in the midst of "the situation."

The Palestinians who work with us are intimately familiar with our lives. But I often try to think what life is like for them. They've all been through a lot of humiliation. Endless cycles of events, some inevitable from my perspective as an Israeli and some totally out of place, have added more and more layers to their humiliation. Every time they go through a checkpoint it is a terrible event. The soldiers are not too "polite" there, and the situation is fraught with inconveniences. For example, Palestinian men will be ordered to lift their shirts up and expose their bodies, to show they don't wear explosive belts. Can you think of a better way to insure that one is not going to blow himself up and, at the same time, make them hate your guts? Can we ever achieve peace with people who'll always remember such personal experiences and worse?

Soon after I came back from the United States, there was one (of many) items of bad news awaiting me. The security service revealed a Palestinian terrorist cell that was going to poison food in a well-known restaurant here, one block from Tmol. One of the cooks there was an active participant in this activity.

When I heard it on the radio I was on my way to Tmol and, of course, wondered how it was going to affect us. I shared the news (not without debating if and how to do it) with my staff and my business partner, who were chatting over a new menu item that we were trying. The cheerful atmosphere disappeared. We all contemplated the grave implications. We knew that the outcome of the news would be that people would be even more cautious about going out to restaurants. Palestinians work in almost every kitchen here.

As expected, there was yet another drop in business. We even had a couple of cases of patrons who inquired about our kitchen staff and left when they heard we employed Arabs.

By now, the food poisoning that never happened seems like a long-forgotten episode, overshadowed by more and more incidents and tragedies. We've all developed elephant's skin – against our nature and judgment. But how else can you live here?

David Ehrlich is a writer. He established, runs and now co-owns Tmol-Shilshom Bookstore Café in Jerusalem.

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