Written By Leib

April 3, 2011: The Market. 

Touring West Jerusalem, which was an interesting site, we looked at the different neighborhoods most of which were Jewish. We saw giant houses with beautiful tile, massive balconies, and gorgeous gardens. The nicest houses were Arab built, but there were no Arabs living in them or even around them. In 1948 Arabs were forced out of their homes in what the Jews call the War of Independence. These Arabs were either placed into refugee camps or fled to other countries. To the Arabs this is known as the Catastrophe. As our tour guide shared different stories of Palestinians' previous lives or stories about visiting the very same home they still have the key to and the deed to, the home they built, but are not allowed in the door, we for a little bit could access a glimpse of pain that the Palestinian nation feels every day. 

In 2011 We looked at this same but very different small community near a market. It was interesting how that community was very much a community with a great diversity of people. All Jewish but different degrees religiously. Ranging from the strictest orthodox to not religious at all. They bring their own culture with them and share it and combine it, and this great joint community, culture, and existence thrives. You wonder if a community like this could exist between Arabs and Jews? Next we went to the biggest market in West Jerusalem. We split up into small groups and walked around. My group leader was our tour guild. He grew up in West Jerusalem, he was the only person in his family to drop out of college for the last 3 generations. He now works as a guide, and is very involved with conflict resolution and human rights in the Middle East. He is such a good guide, funny, informative, engaging, but he didn't push opinions; he would share both sides and his if you asked but left the interpreting to you. He asked if anyone needed a doctor. I told him, yeah, my throat is killing me. And he said here I will take you to him. He lead me through the crowded scene. We slipped through the crowd, you could smell the strong aromas of  people's different scents, some very pleasant and some not so much. We made it to what looked like a juice stand. Our guide greeted a oldish Jewish man with a short white beard a round head with a Kepa sitting on top, the man returned the hello with a big smile and an enthusiastic hand shake. Our guide then spoke several lines in Hebrew and and then the man looked at me, I touched my throat in an attempt to convey what was the matter. He then turned around, opened a large wooden cabinet and took out a small glass vial with a screw in drip dropper top, the glass was labeled with a hand written inscription. He then came up to me and motioned to open my mouth he then grabbed my chin with his hand and positioned it and stuck the long syringe in to my mouth, hovering over the back of my tongue. Three Squirts he gave me. I was terrified of the taste but it wasn't to bad. Spicy like peppers but a little sweet too. Next he yelled to his assistant, and she produced a cup of juice. He took it from her and handed it to me and said drink. I took a sip. It tasted like ginger. I said "toda". He slapped me on the back and smiled. And then was on to the next customer. Our guide came over to me and told me that when ever he feels bad he just comes here and the next day it's all better. He later explained to me what was in the remedy. The liquid in the vial was a combination of red pepper, black radish, and honey. And the drink was ginger and apple juice. I awoke the next morning feeling much better. Still a little flemmy but no more pain.