Thursday, 28 August 2014
Tuesday, 26 August 2014
Homecoming
We rose at 3.30am for our flight back to real life. The first thought that pinged into my head was the news from the previous day and I didn't feel like springing from bed. But the day, like a trusty conveyor belt, scooped me up and carried me with it. The dwarves sprayed croissant flakes over a startling 2 metre radius from where we sat in Terminal 5, and we boarded with rustling bags of jelly snakes and children's mags, and the weekend rags for J and I, in optimistic hope of a moment's peace to read them.
Tel Aviv greeted us with a hot humid hug and we wandered towards the baggage reclaim past yellow signs saying 'SHELTER' with a silhouette of a man running for cover. I doubt there are many such shelters, or yellow signs in Gaza. Our lovely friend Bassem met us. Hooray, he has found a job, having been out of work for 5 anxiety ridden months. As a Palestinian father of four, life is hard enough when you have a job. I received a text from St Grace saying she would be 10 days delayed in Sri Lanka. Her saintly status began to tarnish in my mind, but I reminded myself she hadn't seen her 12 year old son for 2 years, and perhaps it was better to be just the four of us as we settled back in to life.
The dwarves rampaged the house in excitement at the new/old familiarities. 'I'm not hungry becauthe I ate 3 breakfastth,' said the Lozenge, his hands sticky with melted jelly snake. They bathed and we played the froggy game. A simple game where I hide a small rubber frog somewhere around the bath which they normally take at least a minute to find and need constant clues. They never tire of it.
At 6am the following morning I looked out on our olive and pomegranate trees bursting with fruit. Not quite ripe, but looking promising. The Lozenge helped me make his school packed lunch, I ground coffee and placed a cup by J's side of the bed before leaving at 7am for L's first day back at school. He asked for his favourite song in the car as we drove around the Old City walls, passing Haredim wandering down the road, their sidelocks dancing; and Jerusalem traffic just beginning to gridlock in our wake. 'Me and Julio down by the school yard....Goodbye Roooosiieeee, the queen of Corona,' the Lozenge joined in: 'and me and Washimi down by the school yard.'
A fraternal bond has forged it seems.
He ran into his teacher, 'Mith Thandy'th' arms and didn't look back to say goodbye to me.
J, Rashimi and I ventured to the Rockerfeller Museum, five minutes walk from our house. A free entry, with ourselves the only visitors. The silence was soon smashed by Rashimi's decibels reverberating around the curved walls. Founded in 1939 as the Palestine Archaeological Museum, it is now under the management of the Israel Museum, and houses the offices of the Israel Antiquities Authority. Its facade flutters with that ubiquitous flag.
Stuffed with fascinating finds, Rashimi's favourites were the 'thkellingtons' some of them dating from the Palaeolithic era. He wouldn't detach his snout from the glass window through which we could see into the ancient tomb containing at least 8 human remains. He even managed a whisper at this point, as if in reverence: 'Why aren't they thaying anything, Mummeeee?'
We collected the Lozenge from school. The main vignette: 'I did writing on the lines, and reading. Then I coloured in a thkunk. But Mith Thandy told me that ACTUALLY, it wath a WAckoon.'
Then another family trip to an Israeli gynaecologist who confirmed what we knew already. Unlike other more interventionist approaches in Israeli policy, she suggested waiting for everything to evacuate naturally. If not, then I'll need an operation probably next week. As with the Iron Dome which fends off rockets every day, as foreigners here, despite our loathing of this occupation, we are constantly dependent on Israeli technological expertise. And grateful for it, we have to admit.
The poor Lozenge was distraught at being told to wait outside during the inspection. On the way back in the car I had to pacify the still sobbing little schoolboy by giving him the sonogram to look at. 'But Mummy, I can see an egg in there. And I wwwweeeeeeeally want it to be a baby. Why ithn't it a baby?'
Tel Aviv greeted us with a hot humid hug and we wandered towards the baggage reclaim past yellow signs saying 'SHELTER' with a silhouette of a man running for cover. I doubt there are many such shelters, or yellow signs in Gaza. Our lovely friend Bassem met us. Hooray, he has found a job, having been out of work for 5 anxiety ridden months. As a Palestinian father of four, life is hard enough when you have a job. I received a text from St Grace saying she would be 10 days delayed in Sri Lanka. Her saintly status began to tarnish in my mind, but I reminded myself she hadn't seen her 12 year old son for 2 years, and perhaps it was better to be just the four of us as we settled back in to life.
The dwarves rampaged the house in excitement at the new/old familiarities. 'I'm not hungry becauthe I ate 3 breakfastth,' said the Lozenge, his hands sticky with melted jelly snake. They bathed and we played the froggy game. A simple game where I hide a small rubber frog somewhere around the bath which they normally take at least a minute to find and need constant clues. They never tire of it.
At 6am the following morning I looked out on our olive and pomegranate trees bursting with fruit. Not quite ripe, but looking promising. The Lozenge helped me make his school packed lunch, I ground coffee and placed a cup by J's side of the bed before leaving at 7am for L's first day back at school. He asked for his favourite song in the car as we drove around the Old City walls, passing Haredim wandering down the road, their sidelocks dancing; and Jerusalem traffic just beginning to gridlock in our wake. 'Me and Julio down by the school yard....Goodbye Roooosiieeee, the queen of Corona,' the Lozenge joined in: 'and me and Washimi down by the school yard.'
A fraternal bond has forged it seems.
He ran into his teacher, 'Mith Thandy'th' arms and didn't look back to say goodbye to me.
J, Rashimi and I ventured to the Rockerfeller Museum, five minutes walk from our house. A free entry, with ourselves the only visitors. The silence was soon smashed by Rashimi's decibels reverberating around the curved walls. Founded in 1939 as the Palestine Archaeological Museum, it is now under the management of the Israel Museum, and houses the offices of the Israel Antiquities Authority. Its facade flutters with that ubiquitous flag.
Stuffed with fascinating finds, Rashimi's favourites were the 'thkellingtons' some of them dating from the Palaeolithic era. He wouldn't detach his snout from the glass window through which we could see into the ancient tomb containing at least 8 human remains. He even managed a whisper at this point, as if in reverence: 'Why aren't they thaying anything, Mummeeee?'
We collected the Lozenge from school. The main vignette: 'I did writing on the lines, and reading. Then I coloured in a thkunk. But Mith Thandy told me that ACTUALLY, it wath a WAckoon.'
Then another family trip to an Israeli gynaecologist who confirmed what we knew already. Unlike other more interventionist approaches in Israeli policy, she suggested waiting for everything to evacuate naturally. If not, then I'll need an operation probably next week. As with the Iron Dome which fends off rockets every day, as foreigners here, despite our loathing of this occupation, we are constantly dependent on Israeli technological expertise. And grateful for it, we have to admit.
The poor Lozenge was distraught at being told to wait outside during the inspection. On the way back in the car I had to pacify the still sobbing little schoolboy by giving him the sonogram to look at. 'But Mummy, I can see an egg in there. And I wwwweeeeeeeally want it to be a baby. Why ithn't it a baby?'
Something of a nothing
Our last day was tainted with a small grey cloud. A baby we thought we were expecting, turned out not to be.
We tumbled out of the sleeper train, via the dentist and trooped into the scan clinic altogether.
As the sonographer measured up what she saw on the screen, I could tell from her manner that something wasn't right. So I wasn't surprised when she said she couldn't detect a heartbeat but recommended we check it out again when we got back to Jerusalem.
The Lozenge, fascinated by the screen, broke the ice: 'Is there a baby in there Mummy? Did you lay an egg already? Like a chicken?'
We laughed.
As I lay there, with the truth trickling through my mind like water through gaps in pebbles, I turned and looked at three pairs of eyes all looking back at me. My beloved J, Rashimi with a bed head slumped on his knee, the Lozenge with the remains of a chocolate croissant around his mouth, leaning against the bed I was on. And I wondered at the fortune of having those three beating hearts in the room, and in my life. There wasn't much space for sadness, and as J and I agreed later, it wasn't like we'd lost anything, or gained anything. Situation neutral. Something of a nothing, with nature in charge. As best she does it.
And as the song goes: 'Two out of three aint bad.'
We tumbled out of the sleeper train, via the dentist and trooped into the scan clinic altogether.
As the sonographer measured up what she saw on the screen, I could tell from her manner that something wasn't right. So I wasn't surprised when she said she couldn't detect a heartbeat but recommended we check it out again when we got back to Jerusalem.
The Lozenge, fascinated by the screen, broke the ice: 'Is there a baby in there Mummy? Did you lay an egg already? Like a chicken?'
We laughed.
As I lay there, with the truth trickling through my mind like water through gaps in pebbles, I turned and looked at three pairs of eyes all looking back at me. My beloved J, Rashimi with a bed head slumped on his knee, the Lozenge with the remains of a chocolate croissant around his mouth, leaning against the bed I was on. And I wondered at the fortune of having those three beating hearts in the room, and in my life. There wasn't much space for sadness, and as J and I agreed later, it wasn't like we'd lost anything, or gained anything. Situation neutral. Something of a nothing, with nature in charge. As best she does it.
And as the song goes: 'Two out of three aint bad.'
Holiday capers
The memories of a 3 week UK holiday are like a pastiche of mini pixels in our minds - soon to be overlaid with the current and continuous pixellation. On our first morning in Norfolk I heard a little: 'Wow' from the Lozenge's room and peeped in to see the dwarves gazing at the rain.
'What's this?' the Lozenge asked when I handed him a raincoat later that day.
We travelled far and wide, dancing through forests of sights, sounds and experiences; tripping through other peoples' lives and houses with bulging bags and great gratitude: seal spotting, shingle beaches, naked swimming in the sea, pig feeding, hay bale jumping, tumbling down grassy slopes, jeep riding, green upon green both south and north and zone upon zone of no mobile signal. Vegetable picking, rowing in boats and damp barbecues. Brown earthy hands and glistening, grassy Crocs. Godfathers and mothers, aunties and uncles senoir and junior, cousins and friends.
A small amount of politics and banner placing for an issue about which we all care deeply.
Our last evening, I bathed the dwarves and we listened to Mum playing Bach downstairs. Meanwhile a rainbow framed itself neatly in the window, spreading from the green hill towards the tall, elderly trees behind the pond.
A change is as good as a rest. And next year I will pack my vest.
'What's this?' the Lozenge asked when I handed him a raincoat later that day.
We travelled far and wide, dancing through forests of sights, sounds and experiences; tripping through other peoples' lives and houses with bulging bags and great gratitude: seal spotting, shingle beaches, naked swimming in the sea, pig feeding, hay bale jumping, tumbling down grassy slopes, jeep riding, green upon green both south and north and zone upon zone of no mobile signal. Vegetable picking, rowing in boats and damp barbecues. Brown earthy hands and glistening, grassy Crocs. Godfathers and mothers, aunties and uncles senoir and junior, cousins and friends.
A small amount of politics and banner placing for an issue about which we all care deeply.
Our last evening, I bathed the dwarves and we listened to Mum playing Bach downstairs. Meanwhile a rainbow framed itself neatly in the window, spreading from the green hill towards the tall, elderly trees behind the pond.
A change is as good as a rest. And next year I will pack my vest.
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