Everything points to the Middle East conflict

Everything points to the Middle East conflict
By RAY HANANIA
08/04/2010 JERUSALEM POST

How a simple conversation turned into a

complicated discussion on the Israeli and Palestinian narratives.

It all started when I turned on the television set and started watching an old rerun of “Everybody Loves Raymond,” a sitcom about an American-Italian family’s everyday humorous challenges.

(I’ve always wanted to produce my own TV show called “Everybody Loves Abdullah,” about an American-Arab family and their everyday humorous challenges, too.)

The topic of that particular episode was about Raymond who was asked by his wife to explain the whole issue of sex to their young daughter.

That’s when my wife turned to me and said, “Maybe you should have that talk with Aaron.”

“Are you asking me that because my name is Raymond?” I began facetiously.

“I’m being serious,” she said.

“You want me to have the ‘talk’ with Aaron?”

“Yes. I want you to talk to him about sex. He’s old enough to know.”

“Sex? Me? Why me?”

Alison gave me that look. You know, the way a border guard looks at an Arab entering Ben-Gurion airport.

“Fine,” I huffed. “I’ll do it.” I know better than to challenge my wife, or any woman, on any issue.

Not that Aaron – who I call Abdullah when my wife isn’t around – had asked about sex.

SO I sat Abdullah down and I asked him if he’s ever heard of sex. I winced as I anticipated the possible response, “Sure, dad, what do you want to know?” He just looked at me like was I annoying him and said: “Sex is that thing I’m not supposed to talk about.”

“Well, that’s right.”

“So why are we talking about it? Are you trying to get me in trouble?” he asked.

I just started yapping. Going into detail: “There are boys and there are girls, Abdullah. Boys and girls are different. In order to make babies, they have to come together and have, you know, sex. They get together. Then badda bing, badda boom. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Yaani [like, in Arabic] this and yaani that. Kol ma sheh ze lokeah [whatever it takes, in Hebrew]. Whatever. Everyone’s happy. And they have a baby. It’s simple. Any questions?”

“Why are boys and girls different,” he asked?

“That’s just the way it is.”

“You mean the birds and the bees?”

“Yes.”

“What do birds and bees have to do with sex?”

I knew this wasn’t going too well. “Well, ah, I don’t know. Maybe birds are boys and bees are girls. It doesn’t matter. It could be anything.”

THAT STARTED a whole series of difficult questions. “Do insects have sex?”

“Not all of them.”

“Do girls have stingers?”

“No, but they can cause you a lot of pain if you are married to them and you don’t listen to them; which is what’s going to happen to me if this conversation about sex doesn’t produce results.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because G-d made people that way.” Whenever I can’t explain something, I always blame it on G-d. “G-d made us all different.”

“Why? Is that why you are Arab and mommy and I are Jews? Why did G-d make us different? Why are they killing each other?”

“Arabs and Jews are basically the same. We’re both human beings. People. We just believe in different things.” I told him mommy and I have an armistice agreement, which was harder to explain than sex. “Mommy is the boss in our family, but I make all the decisions.”

“So, Arabs and Jews are fighting because they believe in different things?” he asked. “How about sharing? Mommy tells me to do that all the time. If you and mommy get along, why can’t Arabs and Jews get along?”

How did a simple conversation about sex turn into a complicated discussion about the Middle East conflict? That made me realize the problem we have in the Middle East. This is exactly what happens to Arabs and Jews. No matter what the topic, it always turns to the Middle East conflict. We can’t escape it.

Talk about sports turns in to a debate about why the Arabs opposed two states in 1947 when the UN proposed it and used violence to get it all back. Talk about technology turns in to how Israelis are slowly controlling and censoring social networking sites like Facebook and BlogTV. Farming? A debate on who owns what land.

Before I know it, I’m giving Abdullah the Palestinian narrative and then my version of the Israeli narrative, which are different, of course.


“There was this country, Palestine. The Jews lived there. Then the Arabs lived there. Then Jews came back. Then they started to fight over who owns the land. Both sides did bad things to each other and everyone just got madder. Sometimes, one side is tougher and stronger than the other, but the other won’t give up.

Then badda bing, badda boom. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Yaani this and yaani that. Kol ma sheh ze lokeah. Whatever. It’s simple. Any questions?”

Right about that time, mommy decided to poke her head into the room and ask, “How’s it going?”

“Great,” I said.

“Yeah mommy,” my son said. “Daddy says you’re the boss but he makes all the decisions.”

Ouch!

The writer is an award winning columnist and Chicago radio talk show host. www.YallaPeace.com

Israeli sitcom uses humor to shatter stereotypes of Arab citizens

Arab Labor: A humorous sitcom that turns tragedy into understanding

By Ray Hanania

The life of an Arab citizen is anything but funny. Just ask my relatives who live in several Israeli cities. Non-Jews in a Jewish world caught on the edge of the wall that separates Palestinians from Israelis.

Yet, that’s exactly the premise of a sitcom that was a hit last year and is in its second season on Israeli TV called “Arab Labor.”

The sitcom is the brainchild of Palestinian writer Sayed Kashua and produced by Israeli Danny Paran. Even in our everyday language, you might note, Arab citizens of Israeli are still spoken of as if they are not a part of the larger Israeli society.

A sizable 20 percent of Israel’s population, the Christian and Muslim Palestinians rarely get any real or substantive airtime on Israeli television, outside of the news reports which, like most Western media, portray them purely in a negative light.

“Arab Labor” is a mild translation of the sitcom’s Hebrew name, Avoda Aravit, which is slang for “sloppy workmanship,” a derisive stereotype of the Arabs of Israel.

Yet under all this, Kashua may have achieved one of the most brilliant portrayals of the challenging life Arabs in Israel face every day. And using humor, he may have presented it in the only way most Israelis are willing to see it, one filled with racism, suspicion, distrust and stereotypes that must be brought out into the open if they are ever to be one-day healed. Because healing is something Arabs and Israelis need very badly.

Kashua’s remarkably captivating series focuses on the life of one Arab, Amjad Aliyan (Norman Issa), a journalist working for a Hebrew language Israeli magazine. Around him are his wife (Bushra played by Clara Khoury), daughter (Maya, played by Fatma Yihye), his parents, the rascal-like Ismael (Salim Dau) and cautious Umm Amjad (Salwa Nakra). Dau happens to be the head of the Arab Theater in Haifa.

What is really impressive is how the insignificant in life becomes the symbol of the very significance of the relationship between Arabs and Jews, Palestinians and Israelis.

Each episode of the sitcom focuses on one underlying challenge set in the broader theater of life. The first episode cuts right to the chase when Amjad is driving through the checkpoints – remember, he is a “citizen” of Israel – and he wonders how is it that the Israeli soldiers know how to single him out and pull him aside for constant inspection. He asks his daughter to please make sure not to speak Arabic and greet the soldiers in English. And of course, the daughter, in her best formal and religious Arabic, warmly and effusively greets the soldiers, who immediately check all their papers.

But his Israeli friend explains the reason for his daily harassment isn’t the way he looks, dresses or “smells,” but rather the car he drives.

Amjad drives a Subaru, his friends notes. And Subarus are only driven by the most extreme Israeli settlers who wear a yarmulke on their heads, or by Arabs.

So Amjad determines to buy a new car, through his father, who negotiates a purchase price and sale price and his double-sided commissions.

But in the process of lampooning something as subtle as the car you drive, other idiosyncrasies of Arab-Israeli life emerge. If you wear a seat belt in an Israeli licensed plated car through an Arab village in Israel, you must be an Israeli undercover agent with the Shin Bet.

Amjad engages in an argument about another subtle but serious topic. Why are there more accidents in the Arab communities in Israel than in the Jewish communities? Because of Arab culture of the fact that Arab villages and cities get so little funding their roads and infrastructure are dilapidated and eroded, causing more accidents.

Only a person who lives this life can see these details and expertly turn them into a humorous debate about everyday life.

In another episode, Amjad hears from his father about an Arab shepherd who has on goat who, when the Israeli soldiers pull him over for inspection, uses his snout to pull out the shepherd’s ID card from the shepherd’s pocket. When they try to recreate the scene for the magazine story and photograph, the goat is shy. So they stage it, of course. And once everyone is gone, the goat does precisely what he was acclaimed to do.

And in another episode, Amjad and his wife discuss placing their young but clever daughter in kindergarten, rather than leaving them to learn about life from the wily roguish grandfather.

So, they enroll her at an Arab school which happens to be religious. The daughter doesn’t want to go to the school but decides to go to excess in her religious transformation to shock her father into removing her. He then takes her to an Israeli school, called the Peace School.

That sounds innocent enough until they are told they have never had an Arab enroll at the Israeli school. And yes, while the name is “Peace” they never expected it to mean it might attract Arab children to mix with the Jewish children.

Unheard of, and shocking.

Episode after episode draws the viewer through the maze of conflicts that make of the reality of Arab-Jewish life in Israel.

The sitcom is broadcast in Hebrew with English sub-titles that are easy to read and understand. Words are often mistranslated to disguise the more obvious racism that sometimes exists in dialect and speech patterns and habits.

But the biggest tragedy is that most Arabs will not be able to see “Arab Labor,” because there are no cable or TV systems that are of any real reach that can present this sitcom to the public in the United States or the in the Arab World.

The first season features 10 hilarious episodes from start to finish. You can purchase the DVD online at www.AliveMind.net. 300 minutes on 2 disks, the DVD sells for an bargain price of only $34.98. Or, you can purchase it from its American distributor, “Cinema Purgatorio” atwww.CinemaPurgatorio.com.

I urge you to get it. Not to laugh at the foibles of human tragedy, but rather to understand through the only medium that permits understanding in the emotion-charged Arab-Israeli conflict, humor.

(An award winning Palestinian American columnist, standup comedian and Chicago radio talk show host, Ray Hanania is the 2009 Winner of the MT Mehdi Courage in Journalism Award. He can be reached at www.RadioChicagoland.com.)