Today a co-worker’s bike was stolen. She is a beautiful
young South American woman. Very small. She came in to the office carrying her
bike wheel and looking sad. (Some places only have room for bikes to be chained
at the wheel and so it is a commonality to see dejected people walking around
carrying their wheels or bike seats). She put the wheel down safely in the
office and went off to look for her bike. Everyone knows of the infamous
stolen-bike neighbourhood. A few hours later she returned, flushed, carrying
her bike which she had successfully located, and demanded back from the thief
in question. She dropped it nearby her wheel and set off again, grabbing a
bunch of the pamphlets that her organisation makes. Hers is another NGO in our
office that helps refugees start up small businesses. In response to our
excitement about getting her bike back which became interrogation about where
she was going NOW, she explained that she was going back to where she had found
her bike to distribute her pamphlets and try to help the bike thieves, whom she
was very angry with, to start up proper businesses, so as not to have to steal
her bike again. And so she did. Pretty much, everyone here is amazing. I have
grown to fall in love with the people I work with over my short and intense
time here.
*********************
Last week involved the loveliest of evenings. A long day at
work but couldn’t bring myself to go home. As always, when the need arises, I
make friends. And so it was that I ended up going rock climbing with two new
volunteers. I climbed a wall, and I did it for free, unlike one of the guys I
was with, who paid the 50shekel fee and didn’t manage it. Unfortunately my
friendship with him was short lived, as we accidentally found ourselves in a
political argument when my guard was let down. However I think I met two of the
nicest girls that I’ve ever met in my lives. The people I usually associate
with aren’t, ‘nice’ so to speak. I mean, I’m not nice. I’ve never even approved
of the nice type of people. But the next plan for the evening was to go out for
chocolate with the shelter volunteers. I got a facebook message last night in
response to my status complaining about being broke and down, and in response
she invited me to go with the shelter volunteers to Max Brenner, a restaurant
that specialises in everything chocolate. I mean, she hardly knows me, she has
no invested interest in me, yet she cares enough to invite me, confirm that I
am coming, and then even PAY FOR ME. I was too surprised to argue. I had
wondered why she had invited me to a restaurant after I said I was broke, but
the conclusion I had come to was that when one had very little money, the only
thing to do was to spend what you did have on chocolate!! Something I found so
sensible that I planned my evening around it. It was just really nice to sit
and be with them, Germans and Danes.
**************
And infact the day after that topped it all. This was
Thursday Night, the beginning of the weekend in the Holy Land. We all headed
out for a Staff Night Out, in an Ethiopian restaurant that was used to serving
8 customers, not 28. And then some. Good food, obviously, also got a chance to
talk to my boss (the one who makes me wash the dishes etc). I sat with some of
the new volunteers, and it was relaxing and delicious, but all the people
that I really wanted to get to know, i.e the people I have been working with
for over a month yet know very little about, were sitting at the other side of
the table (we split into veggie and non-veggie to share Injira’s). But after
the meal there were those of us without families who awaited our return, or
parties that we were required to attend etc, who headed out off to the bar that
one of my colleagues, an Argentinian, works at. That’s right. Free drinks. The
company included, in age order: me(19) and this beautiful Rasta Israeli guy(21ish),
and then ranged from 25 up until 40. It is the most amazing thing to get to
know people only after you’ve known them for a long time. Every time anyone at
the office lets out something about their lives,
such as how the 40 year old (probably my favourite person in the world. And
completely crazy) used to play rugby. Or how the 29 year old wanted to go to
Africa but found an Israeli boyfriend. Or what Zion is for Rastafarian
Israelis. Drank a bit much, but didn’t embarass myself. Just managed to
tell a few people that it wasn’t exactly a boy that I was looking for (after
they’d tried to hook me up with a few Ghanaians).
I’ve mentioned the age thing
because it is a thing. Everyone assumes I’m in my late twenties when I’m in the
office, yet as soon as I set outside its borders, in a social situation, they
double-take and ask my age. This trend happened, exactly like that, at least 4
times. So no exaggeration. My response is always, ‘I am very young’. Because
around all these geriatrics, I really am. I could lie, and say I’m 24 just to
keep my secret identity, but I love to watch the shock, the initial rejection,
and the final and awkward yet enthusiastic acceptance. Mostly. And the benefits, are found in being
young and free, but learning from the amazing and experienced souls around me.
(And by that I mean being able to get in to a 25+ bar because I have friends in
high places…) J
Today I caught site of myself walking up Shalama Street,
South Tel Aviv. There was something about me that caught my eye. It was in my
step, and my swinging hair and slightly sweaty forhead. And I thought about
what it might be and why I got this when I walked alone down the streets of Tel
Aviv, missioning. I think its called ‘happy’ and I think I found it. And I
think I am where I want to be. At least for now.
No comments:
Post a Comment