Today, friends, is a lesson in competing narratives.
Narrative 1: The colonial Zionist entity known as Israel attempted to forcibly expel a number of Palestinian families from their homes in Sheikh Jarrah in occupied East Jerusalem. In response to these illegal evictions, Palestinians protested around Jerusalem’s Al-Aqsa mosque on the final Friday of Ramadan. The Israeli military responded violently, stoking international outrage and wounding more than 300 Palestinians. Hamas then issued an ultimatum for Israel to remove its forces in Sheikh Jarrah and from the Al-Aqsa compound. When Israel refused to comply, Hamas in Gaza fired rockets towards various locations in Israel. Though most of the rockets were intercepted by Israel’s Iron Dome defense system, Israel’s aerial attack in Gaza killed at least 26 Palestinians, including a number of children. Netanyahu announced today that “both the might of the attacks and the frequency of the attacks will be increased.”
Narrative 2: Israel recently attempted to reclaim land in a Jerusalem neighborhood known to Jews as Shimon Hatzadik (Simeon the Just), a revered third-century BCE Jewish priest whose tomb is located there. The neighborhood is often visited by Jewish pilgrims and the owners of the land in question, a private Israeli NGO, have legal title to the property and claim that, in the absence of rent being paid by the tenants, the tenants ought to be evicted for breaching the law. In response to Israel’s activity, Palestinians began violently protesting at the Al-Aqsa compound, which Israel was forced to shut down due to security concerns. Since then, Hamas, hoping to increase its stature among Palestinians after the Palestinian Authority recently cancelled elections, has fired over 1,000 rockets towards urban centers across Israel, which has responded by warning civilians and targeting Hamas terrorists in Gaza.
My niece in Colorado doesn’t want to come to Israel because she thinks Israel is the bad guy. The Israeli dude who came to fix our ceiling fan (which Broosevelt and Boni destroyed) thinks Israel should send Gaza back to the Stone Age. There are clearly different perspectives, narratives, and experiences regarding this conflict.
And so it was in the bunker last night…
Around 9pm local time, three of my children were sleeping soundly, Panini was on her phone as always, and the Boss was thinking about how lucky she is to be married to me. I was reading in bed when the first siren went off. We grabbed the children, a water bottle, our keys, and our kafkafim (flip-flops), and left the apartment. We were planning to go to the miklat (bomb shelter) in the basement, but everyone on our floor was just standing outside in the hallway.
My thought: Why the fuck are we in the hallways? What if a rocket came through the window right there? These lazy-ass Israelis won’t even walk down three flights of stairs.
My neighbor’s thought: Stupid-ass Americans. Why the hell are they wearing kafkafim?
Boni’s thought: Can everyone shut the hell up? I’m trying to catch some shut-eye on Daddy’s shoulder.
Eventually, we headed down to the miklat, a concrete room in the basement with a few dusty chairs, an old baby stroller, and some plastic flowers.
Shirli was there. You remember Shirli, don’t you? She’s the witch who lives below us.
My thought: Shit, Shirli’s here. Don’t make eye contact.
Shirli’s thought: Look at those slimy little creatures. Which one should I eat first?
Broosevelt’s thought: Wow, turns out I’m more scared of Shirli than I am of these rockets.
So it’s Shirli; my brood of six; another family of five; a few older couples; two daughters and their mom; a small, white, fluffy, trembling white dog; a big, beautiful, grey dog named Dust, and a young couple (owners of Dust) with a newborn baby. I offered my chair to the newborn’s father.
My thought: This dude is standing the whole time with a baby in his arms. He should sit.
His thought: I served in the military for three years, and this American asshole thinks I need to rest right now?
The Boss’ thought: Do you not see me sitting on the ground with two children in my lap?
We spent about ten minutes in the miklat, came back upstairs, and crawled into bed. Ten minutes later, there were more sirens, so we counted heads again and went back to the basement.
People started to get tired and bored. Dust took a nap. I thought about why it takes so long for my toothbrush to charge. OG asked me if she could do a dance performance for everyone. Panini said her phone was dying, and Broosevelt immediately asked, "Who's dying?"
Eventually, we went back upstairs, crawled into bed, and fell asleep. At 3am, the sirens came back on and we again rushed down the miklat. Sirens blared almost non-stop, and this time there were some super-loud booms, most, if not all, of which were Israel’s Iron Dome defense system intercepting Hamas rockets.
My thoughts: Why is there an open window in the corner? I understand we need fresh air, but doesn’t that defeat the purpose? Will Panini ever get off her phone? Why do my nipples keep chafing when I play basketball?
Broosevelt’s thought: I have the sickest set of action figure Brawl Stars of any kid in the neighborhood.
Dust’s thought: Why in the fuck do I keep giving my paw to everyone but not get any god damn treats?
Shit felt pretty real for those 45 minutes, but eventually things subsided. We went back upstairs, I crashed on the couch, and the Boss slept in our bed with OG, Broosevelt, and Boni (who fell off the bed a few hours later).
We woke up this morning drowsy, but there was no school for the kids.
Boni's thought: Hooray!
The Boss' thought: Oh shit.
My thought: If I had murdered Shirli last night, would the people have cheered?
