قد عيد الميلاد

Merry Christmas!

I write to you from Ben Gurion airport in Tel-Aviv while in transit to Cairo. In an effort to avoid the inconveniences of Shabbat, I've arrived for my flight 7 hours early. I'm slightly sad that I have to spend my Christmas day in an airport, but the festivities of last night have certainly made me less bummed about spending Christmas in an airport. I'm extremely tired though.

Our day started with a Christmas dinner at the home of our coordinators in Beit Jala. The meal was complete with vegan mashed potatoes, guacamole, and vegan fudge. After exchanging gifts with our secret santa we headed to Christmas Eve service at Christmas Lutheran Church in Bethlehem. The church itself is small, but truly perfection with high arches made out of limestone, stained glass windows and quaint pews. The service was given in Arabic, English, and German with each participant singing and praying in their native tongue. The service ended with a candlelit procession through Bethlehem singing Silent Night.

We then headed to Manager Square in Bethlehem where there was live music in front of the Church of the Nativity with thousands standing, listening. I couldn't help but notice that 90% of those attending the festivities were young men. This is a reality that I'm slowly coming to realize as public events are overwhelmingly attended by men. To feel comfortable, I usually need some sort of male escort to forgo the creepy stares, space violators, and unwanted comments from the sahba (young men). It's sad really, because women can’t feel comfortable celebrating even religious happenings because of a male dominated culture.

We took a break from Manager Square to have a proper Palestinian Christmas meal of pita, hummus, and falafel. It was nice to reflect with those I’ve gotten close to over the past months. Being away from family has been difficult for all of us, especially during the holidays, and it was nice to share a meal together and share stories and traditions (it also didn’t hurt that our meal cost a mere $2.50 – the cheapest Christmas meal I will ever have!).

The live music ended around 11pm to make way for services at the Church of the Nativity. Tickets are required for this event, so we decided to head to the Shepherd’s Fields in Beit Sahour to occupy our time. Walking through Beit Sahour was when it really felt like Christmas. Beit Sahour is one of two predominately Christian towns in the Israel/Palestine area so we were greeted with “Merry Chirstmas” and “Eid ill Melad Said” by many as we walked the street. Getting to Shepherd’s Fields took three attempts. Our first distraction was a procession of Catholics making their way to Bethlehem that we joined. Complete with mosquito torches, drums, guitars, and voices, we walked and talked with people from all over the world.

We decided to jump out of the procession early to again head to the Shepherd’s Field. As we walked down the street a woman wished us a Merry Christmas from her balcony and invited us in for tea. “From the bottom of my heart, please take tea with me on Christmas.” Leenda was her name and she prepared us tea with sage because that is what Mary had when she delivered baby Jesus. Leenda had children in America and used to be a pharmacist. She was spending Christmas alone, so it was nice to know that we were giving this generous woman company and that we had a bit of tea to warm up.

After tea, we made a third and final attempt to go to the Shepherd’s Field. It was about a 30-minute walk from Manager Square in Bethlehem. The field has since been turned into more of a park – a rarity in Palestine – complete with a chapel, fountain and multiple worshiping spaces. We could hear services in multiple languages, and familiar Christmas carols being sung in German, English, Arabic, and other unknown tongues.

After doing a bit of exploring, my fellow volunteers and I read the gospel from Luke and took some time to reflect on our night. I received a call from my home church in Casselton where I read the lessons and gave a brief rundown of my Christmas Eve in the Holy Land. It was nice to feel like I was a part of the service, despite not being able to hear anyone on the other end, I still felt connected to home.

I am preparing for my parents and brother to visit me here next week. I’m so excited to share my experiences with them. More to come…

Merry Christmas!

Adventures with the Mustashfa (hospital)

Marhabba! (hello)

It’s a beautiful afternoon in Ramallah; about 64 degrees outside and more like 60 degrees inside. I’m trying to get my beloved space heater to work, but with the TV and cable box running, I think I may have overloaded our outlet. We recently acquired a TV and cable box from the family who used to live upstairs. Bethany and I are now proud owners of approximately 1000 channels with countless English=speaking movie channels. It certainly is nice to have, despite the fact that the movies played are on a “world’s worst movie” list somewhere.

This week has been difficult for one unfortunate reason. Though it’s a bit embarrassing, I think it serves as a good story to share about the realities of living here. I acquired the inevitable – travelers diarrhea.

We’ve been hosting a group of ELCA bishops and their wives this week as they explore the Holy Land. Bethany and I accompanied them on Tuesday and Wednesday which included a visit to Yad Vashem (the holocaust museum in Jerusalem), presentations by Israel’s Minister of Interior and Minister of Tourism among other high level government officials, and a trip to our school in Ramallah. After the bishop’s visit to our school, I decided to take a nap and woke up with excruciating pain in my lower abdomen. The pain is what I imagine contractions during child birth might feel like. After three or four hours of intense abdominal pain and vomiting, I decided it was time to visit the mustashfa (hospital).

This time, Bethany and I decided to brave the private hospital upon recommendation from a church member. One of my work-out friends rushed me to the hospital as if I was on the brink of death. After blood and urine tests, I was diagnosed with a UTI, a diagnosis I felt wasn’t quite right. But irregardless of my broken Arabic and my doctor’s broken English, I was out the door with a prescription in hand. I filled the prescription with hope that it would lessen the pain and vomiting. Unfortunately, taking the medication induced something worse: diarrhea and even more intense stomach pain. Considering that one of the boxes of medication had a slinky on it, I should have been concerned.

I was still trying to remain optimistic, but at about midnight (4 hours after I had gotten back from the hospital the first time) I decided it was time to make another journey to the mustashfa. This time another work-out friend of mine, who speaks English well, came with to help me communicate more clearly what was wrong. “Back so soon?” my doctor greeted me. I again explained my symptoms and how I thought my previous diagnosis was incorrect. This time, I was visited by the surgeon, probably because he spoke the best English, and they put me on an IV and another kind of medication. I left the hospital around 3 am full of liquids and drugs.

Thursday, I still was experiencing considerable stomach pain and diarrhea, but it was definitely an improvement from Wednesday. I spent most of the day napping, but was frequently interrupted by phone calls and visits from concerned parties. The English teacher and secretary from school came over to visit, along with several members from the church council, and other community members. Even the 9^th graders wanted to stop by; fortunately, their teacher encouraged them not to. With them they brought advice about what kind of foods to eat and most brought food with them. I am now on a strict regime of potatoes and bananas and staying away from chocolate (doctor’s orders) and lentils. We also spent time hypothesizing how I contracted this Middle Eastern mystery disease; some say the wind, some say the cold weather, I say food poisoning; but whatever, all ideas are welcome.

I certainly felt appreciated by the amount of concern that was shown over my wellbeing. On the flip side, I think the entire city of Ramallah now knows that I have/had diarrhea as I’ve had more conversations concerning my bowels than I ever care to have again.

Today, I am feeling almost 100%. The diarrhea is gone but I still have a bit of stomach pain here and there. Tomorrow, one of the bishops will be preaching at our church and we’ll go to Beit Jala to have a closing meal/service with them before they head to the Galilee and then home.

Hopefully, they’ll let me have shuklaa (chocolate) soon…