An evening in Bir Zeit

Well, it looks like we're not going home. Instead of the normal bus stop, we were walking towards one I hadn't used before. Then I remembered that earlier, Majd had asked me if I wanted to go to Bir Zeit, the city next door, in which her sister attends university. That must be where we're going.

A short drive over several olive-terraced hills brought us to Bir Zeit, and we got off the bus and stepped into a cafe/restaurant. It was outdoor courtyard with tables, trees and a fountain, and was covered by a canvas roof. Majd's sister, Rums, was sitting at a table with five of her friends.

We pulled up some chairs, and they all giggled as they tried to talk to me in what is basically the equivalent of Shakespearian English, but soon realized that I could actually understand and communicate most simple ideas in Palestinian colloquial. Questions like “How do you feel about your government?” and “Why did you decide to come to Palestine?” continue to stump me, but Majd is a very helpful translator.

I learned that like many Palestinians I've met, these girls don't like governments in general, and the American government in particular. One of the girls explained that as a large and powerful country, she believes that the US has a responsibility to help people, but isn't upholding this responsibility, particularly in Palestine.

They asked if I wanted anything to eat, and I said I was definitely not hungry—we had just gotten ice cream in Ramallah. However, fullness rarely stops Palestinians from feeding me, and a minute later they began passing plates towards my end of the table and telling me to eat.

They brought us back to their dorm apartment, gave me a tour, and wanted me to dance. They wanted me to teach them American dance, but it was quickly determined that I was better at Arab dance. Then they asked if I was hungry again, and in spite of my negative answer, I was given a sandwich, a cucumber and a peach. When I protested, they told me what I have learned many times—the Palestinian tradition is to make guests welcome by feeding them.

While it's fun to be the special guest, I also feel almost guilty about it sometimes. These people don't even know me, but they welcome me into their homes and make as if I'm the most wonderful person in the world. I can only appreciate the hospitality and hope that I hold up in their opinions as they get to know me—and try to learn something about hospitality, generosity and judgment. I hope that I offer the same to people I meet.

Finally, it was time to leave. They did their best to convince me to spend the night, and made me promise to come back soon.