Response to The Lemon Tree
Resolving Conflicts: Understanding Through Friendship
The Lemon Tree, by Sandy Tolan, can be compared to a window, through its pages we glimpse the emotions that are part of the conflict between Israel and Palestine. While the story in the Lemon Tree can be difficult to follow, if only for its extended history of the issue at hand. But it’s story is exciting and simultaneously realistic, with the ever lingering sensation of hope. Within it, we follow the lives of two protagonists, Bashir and Dalia. Bashir is a strong minded Arab boy, forced to leave his home with the rest of his large family. Dalia is the morally minded Bulgarian girl, who moved into Bashir’s house with her parents, refugees from Europe. Bashir on the other hand lives with the resentment of his loss and the injustice to his people, but carries a sense of frugality and dedication while he seeks to return to his homeland. Dalia grew up with the propaganda that taught her that this was supposed to be her homeland, but she was also compassionate and this would allow her to be empathetic to others she would meet in the future, namely Bashir. When they did meet, they are cordial, pleasant, but they were also doubtful, and they have very different perspectives. Time passes, and they meet again, this time it was not without clash. But this time further understanding is formed. Throughout the story, both characters face hardships and struggle against the conflict that separates their peoples. Against these odds they stay friends and strive to bring hope for resolution. The story ends, not with a fairy tale happy ending, but possibility that things will still change. For even when the lemon tree that has grown throughout the story dies, another may be planted in its place to bear fruit for children of a happier time.
The author portrays the friendship between Bashir and Dalia to show how differences can be bridged. Many story tellers, moralists, and philosophers agree that understanding your adversary is the first step in resolving a conflict. Without clear reasons from both perspectives, justice is a virtue left powerless.
After Bashir’s imprisonment, Dalia chooses to visit him for the first time, quite a bit after he knocked on her door hoping for a peek at his old house. She is greeted with hospitality and kindness. But the meeting has much more significance than a simple return of favor. This was truly the beginning of understanding between the two of them. However it was not without disagreement. When Bashir revealed his point of view, Dalia’s response is defensive. “Don’t try to fix one wrong with another wrong! You want to turn us, again, into refugees?” (Tolan 162). Dalia is upset by Bashir’s implications of taking back Israel, but also conflicted with the matter of wrong and right. Bashir in turn, had not thought well of any Israelis until he met Dalia. “You are not a guest in this house, Dalia. It means you must come again and again, and we’re going to do this too.” (Tolan 163.) He now seeks to find a solution to conflict with her, rather than against her and her people. Dalia reciprocated this saying, “I’m only one person searching for the truth, and I found the thread that’s going to take me there.” In return, Dalia was ready to let go of the lies she’d been taught in order to understand the conflict entangling her life with Bashir’s. As I see it, this marks the true beginning of Dalia and Bashir’s friendship, and their acknowledgment of mistakes in their perception is a first step towards ending conflict.
For the second time, Bashir was banished from his home. (The first time from Ramla, now from Ramallah.) Knowing his unfortunate circumstance, Dalia sends Bashir a letter. She worries he might get angry at the injustice, but believes he could rise against it and be a great leader. “It seems to me, Bashir, that you will now have a new opportunity to assume a leadership role. By its intention to deport you, Israel has actually empowered you. I appeal you to demonstrate the kind of leadership that uses non violent means of struggle for your rights.” (Tolan 202). This letter reveals the growing friendship between Bashir and Dalia, as well as Dalia’s new passion for the conflict to end after her recognition of fault on both sides. In response, Bashir clearly held respect for Dalia and agreed with her ideals. “All I wish is for you and me to struggle together with all of the peace and and freedom loving people for the establishment of a democratic popular state.” (Tolan 220). This shows their mutual recognition of truth and again, it seems likely that this is the way the Israeli Palestinian conflict will end.
When Dalia next sees Bashir, seven years after the last time they’d met, she is nervous. Bashir was too, especially for her safety. But the meeting was special and fulfilling, a taste of the freedom and unity they hoped to achieve for their peoples. They talked of family and hope and changes that had come. However, in leaving, Dalia came to one of the most profound realizations directly stated in the book. “Our enemy, is the only partner we have.” (Tolan 262). Simple words won’t dissolve the heated flames between aggressors, no matter how true. But it is this exact revelation that allows change, through flow of thought, to unite those who are divided by strife that is misunderstood.
Many mistakes are caused by misconceptions. Whether one falls victim to a stubbed toe for lack of understanding in the spatial area, or begins a war because of fear of an alternate religion, the lack is the same. It is human to fear the unknown, unfamiliar or different. We may express our fear hatefully, or even violently. But through knowledge of what differs from our own way, we prevent this. Dalia and Bashir use friendship to aid their study of ‘the other’. What I believe they discovered is that there truly is so little difference between the two of them, and their peoples. With this realization, they move forward and if they continue--and we continue to recognize this simple fact, change will come. Even battles that last centuries must one day end.
Work Cited
Tolan, Sandy. The Lemon Tree: An Arab, a Jew, and the Heart of the Middle East. New York: Bloomsbury Pub., 2006. Print.
The Lemon Tree, by Sandy Tolan, can be compared to a window, through its pages we glimpse the emotions that are part of the conflict between Israel and Palestine. While the story in the Lemon Tree can be difficult to follow, if only for its extended history of the issue at hand. But it’s story is exciting and simultaneously realistic, with the ever lingering sensation of hope. Within it, we follow the lives of two protagonists, Bashir and Dalia. Bashir is a strong minded Arab boy, forced to leave his home with the rest of his large family. Dalia is the morally minded Bulgarian girl, who moved into Bashir’s house with her parents, refugees from Europe. Bashir on the other hand lives with the resentment of his loss and the injustice to his people, but carries a sense of frugality and dedication while he seeks to return to his homeland. Dalia grew up with the propaganda that taught her that this was supposed to be her homeland, but she was also compassionate and this would allow her to be empathetic to others she would meet in the future, namely Bashir. When they did meet, they are cordial, pleasant, but they were also doubtful, and they have very different perspectives. Time passes, and they meet again, this time it was not without clash. But this time further understanding is formed. Throughout the story, both characters face hardships and struggle against the conflict that separates their peoples. Against these odds they stay friends and strive to bring hope for resolution. The story ends, not with a fairy tale happy ending, but possibility that things will still change. For even when the lemon tree that has grown throughout the story dies, another may be planted in its place to bear fruit for children of a happier time.
The author portrays the friendship between Bashir and Dalia to show how differences can be bridged. Many story tellers, moralists, and philosophers agree that understanding your adversary is the first step in resolving a conflict. Without clear reasons from both perspectives, justice is a virtue left powerless.
After Bashir’s imprisonment, Dalia chooses to visit him for the first time, quite a bit after he knocked on her door hoping for a peek at his old house. She is greeted with hospitality and kindness. But the meeting has much more significance than a simple return of favor. This was truly the beginning of understanding between the two of them. However it was not without disagreement. When Bashir revealed his point of view, Dalia’s response is defensive. “Don’t try to fix one wrong with another wrong! You want to turn us, again, into refugees?” (Tolan 162). Dalia is upset by Bashir’s implications of taking back Israel, but also conflicted with the matter of wrong and right. Bashir in turn, had not thought well of any Israelis until he met Dalia. “You are not a guest in this house, Dalia. It means you must come again and again, and we’re going to do this too.” (Tolan 163.) He now seeks to find a solution to conflict with her, rather than against her and her people. Dalia reciprocated this saying, “I’m only one person searching for the truth, and I found the thread that’s going to take me there.” In return, Dalia was ready to let go of the lies she’d been taught in order to understand the conflict entangling her life with Bashir’s. As I see it, this marks the true beginning of Dalia and Bashir’s friendship, and their acknowledgment of mistakes in their perception is a first step towards ending conflict.
For the second time, Bashir was banished from his home. (The first time from Ramla, now from Ramallah.) Knowing his unfortunate circumstance, Dalia sends Bashir a letter. She worries he might get angry at the injustice, but believes he could rise against it and be a great leader. “It seems to me, Bashir, that you will now have a new opportunity to assume a leadership role. By its intention to deport you, Israel has actually empowered you. I appeal you to demonstrate the kind of leadership that uses non violent means of struggle for your rights.” (Tolan 202). This letter reveals the growing friendship between Bashir and Dalia, as well as Dalia’s new passion for the conflict to end after her recognition of fault on both sides. In response, Bashir clearly held respect for Dalia and agreed with her ideals. “All I wish is for you and me to struggle together with all of the peace and and freedom loving people for the establishment of a democratic popular state.” (Tolan 220). This shows their mutual recognition of truth and again, it seems likely that this is the way the Israeli Palestinian conflict will end.
When Dalia next sees Bashir, seven years after the last time they’d met, she is nervous. Bashir was too, especially for her safety. But the meeting was special and fulfilling, a taste of the freedom and unity they hoped to achieve for their peoples. They talked of family and hope and changes that had come. However, in leaving, Dalia came to one of the most profound realizations directly stated in the book. “Our enemy, is the only partner we have.” (Tolan 262). Simple words won’t dissolve the heated flames between aggressors, no matter how true. But it is this exact revelation that allows change, through flow of thought, to unite those who are divided by strife that is misunderstood.
Many mistakes are caused by misconceptions. Whether one falls victim to a stubbed toe for lack of understanding in the spatial area, or begins a war because of fear of an alternate religion, the lack is the same. It is human to fear the unknown, unfamiliar or different. We may express our fear hatefully, or even violently. But through knowledge of what differs from our own way, we prevent this. Dalia and Bashir use friendship to aid their study of ‘the other’. What I believe they discovered is that there truly is so little difference between the two of them, and their peoples. With this realization, they move forward and if they continue--and we continue to recognize this simple fact, change will come. Even battles that last centuries must one day end.
Work Cited
Tolan, Sandy. The Lemon Tree: An Arab, a Jew, and the Heart of the Middle East. New York: Bloomsbury Pub., 2006. Print.
In the Land of Milk and Honey
This story is dedicated to my superheroes, my parents, my friends, and my idols whom I aspire to emulate.
It is dedicated to the villains, the rivals I never really had, and everyone whoever found out how to get in my way.
The story is dedicated to my sidekicks and bit characters whose importance I probably failed to realize.
And most importantly, it is dedicated to everyone whose story continues.
How it Begins
When I tell someone a story, I’m never quite sure where to begin. Perhaps this is because, the way I see it, nothing ever begins and nothing ever ends. It’s just time and space waltzing an eternal tango, laughing as you try to keep up with the steps, bumping into everyone else around you, who even if they don’t seem so, are every bit as lost as you are.
A friend of mine could tell you all about time, perhaps he’d set it down in a few rhymes just to remind you how much he’d thought about it. But I can’t spend that long thinking about its complications.
All that matters is right here, right now.
But even I have to look back once in a while, to re-assemble the pictures in a photo album, to remember why exactly things happened the way they did. For all the precious gems in the past, and for all the sacred moments that were lost. For every triumph marked by grave defeat, and each milestone born from true sorrow. The future would not be were it not for these little occurrences.
And it is for this reason that I must tell you a story.
✥✥✥
“Jade, I assure you this will be a ripsnorter of a day. The tomfoolery my fellows got up here was dogged infallible!” A grandfather bellowed his usual encouragement with a hand firmly on his granddaughter's shoulder. In the distance she could see the harbor as they finally reached their destination, the long foretold Israel.
“I can’t wait to try out the honey!” The girl’s voice was a bit high pitched, perhaps due to nerves or perhaps due to excitement, but more probably both.
“The honey?” the old man glanced at her with a befuddled eye.
“They call it the land of milk and honey right? I want to taste the honey.”
He paused for a moment, then laughed a great echoing laugh. “That’s not what they meant Jade, love, they meant nectar. It’s in the prophecy that bequeathed Israel to the Jews, you see.”
Jade did not see, nor did she wish to see. Her cheeks reddened a bit, but it was easy to imagine that was only the brisk wind bringing out the color. Indeed, the sea air was chilling as a passenger of her grandfather’s cruiser, though in fact she was too used to the temperature for it to bother her.
It was unlike Jade to allow her excitement to bubble up like a puppy’s, only to let it sink again at her own failure, but something about being with her grandfather changed her demeanor.
She was used to living alone on a island in the South Atlantic while he galavanted around the globe bringing back trophies right and left. This was only her second travel with him, and the first that had been so far from home.
It was not by any stretch, that Jade disliked her grandfather. She admired him and pursued many of his interests with her own hand. But when it came to his physical presence, it was usually rather...intense.
At this point he was belting out an old tale, an adventure he’d had with a crony of his. He spat giddily of how they rescued a village from both its watery grave as the tide crept closer, and its fiery death as a volcano threatened to bring the city to the ground. He’d told the story on numerous occasions, and it never sounded the same twice.
Jade turned to face the fast approaching shore. She really was excited and she really was nervous. What little contact she had with her grandfather, she had even less with the real world. This venture into a land of people she had never met, people who likely didn’t even speak the same language, this was big. But it was also, in her shining thirteen-year-old eyes, a chance for the beginning.
The beginning of what?
Jade didn’t quite know yet. She figured she’d find out later.
The sun sunk lower on the horizon, giving the dock a golden tint as they sailed in at last. A chauffeur welcomed them, as any gracious host would, and took them directly to the hotel they would be staying at.
The ride was pretty much a blur as the colors of Tel Aviv melded in the view provided by the car windows.
With little conscious to guide her, Jade made her way to her room with the help of a compassionate hotel maid. In a typical family, it might have been Jade’s grandfather who took this role of helping his sleepy grand daughter to bed. In this family however, that would never be the case. One might call it an unspoken rule, that permitted the freedom between the two of them.
Some need unity to solidify relationships. Others, wilt without room to breath.
Darkness invited and without hesitation, she accepted and ascended to a world where clouds tell you the future. A world of dreams.
✥✥✥
“Good morning.” A hollow voice greeted Jade as she struggled to release herself from the bulky covers.
“Good morning! Are you the maid from last night?” Jade answered in her usual spirited tone, hoping to elicit similar enthusiasm.
The maid merely nodded, and turned to tend to the room. As she got up fully, Jade reached for her glasses, hoping to regain the farsight she lost without them. As her vision cleared, she saw the maid a bit better.
It was a very young woman with long hair that seemed somewhat un-tended to. Her eyes were a dark color, though Jade couldn’t really get a good look at them the way the maid kept darting around. Her skin, much like that of the other people of the land, was sandy and tinted by the sun. Jades own skin could hardly be called pale, but hers held more of the pink pigment she was born with.
Nothing about the way the maid looked was unnerving, but the silence was paralyzing. Strange considering Jade had lived almost everyday as wordless as a silent film.
“What is your name?” Jade asked in a curious tone.
The quiet loomed heavily.
“Aradia.” The maid shot out, as though the sound would bite.
“Uh-rah-di-a” Jade sounded out, trying to get a feel for it. It didn’t sound as pretty on her slow tongue.
Aradia was nearly finished straightening the room and prepared to leave. She picked up the utensils she had needed, and turned to go, but not without asking, “Is there anything that you will be needing?” in a tone that implied courtesy but lacked feeling.
“No...thank you.” Jade responded, unsure of what she should have said. “My name is Jade, by the way.” She tacked it on the end, hoping Aradia would remember.
“Jay-de. Nice to be meeting you Jade.” Aradia left curtly, but her dull words allowed Jade a smile of relief.
This is it. This is how you meet people. This is how you talk.
And maybe....this is how you make friends.
✥✥✥
Skipping over cobblestones, Jade stared up at a shocking blue sky penetrated only by the buildings that curved like a river with the street. Everything seemed awfully cramped but not in a bad way. It was rather friendly to see the many people walking from place to place, children playing with friends on street corners.
But the chatter that surrounded her was surprisingly hard to adjust to. One couldn’t walk a step without a burst of speech that was completely unfamiliar. Even when, here and there, bypassers spoke English, to Jade, it sounded nothing like English.
Currently, Jade was a few cities from the hotel, on her day trip to Jerusalem. She had checked on her grandfather to find him completely out of range, likely at a meeting of sorts. Negotiations between embassies was the initial reason for the trip. Jade’s coming had merely been an unexpected tag along, but there was no reason not to make the best of it.
She knew little or nothing about Israel (as her thoughts on the land of Milk and Honey might conclude) but she had at least heard of the Capitol. Jerusalem was renowned for being a holy city, another thing Jade was unfamiliar with.
As far as Jade was concerned, the only god she ever needed was her best friend Bec. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t curious about the devotion of those who didn’t consider their dog to be the only divine.
So as the only city whose name she could recall, and a famous area no less, Jade had chosen Jerusalem as her target for the day.
It was a long trip, though, and while waiting for the second bus, she found herself somewhere that seemed strangely less safe. It wasn’t obvious at first, but in time it became clear.
This was a refugee camp.
Alright, it was the signs at the border that made her realize, but the border control was a pretty good hint, too.
The people that chattered busily around her looked worse for wear compared to those she’d seen in the streets of Tel Aviv. The words they spoke, too, though just as alien as the language she’d heard before, were different. In time she’d managed to pick out one key phrase.
In Tel Aviv and on the bus, people had been saying ‘Shalom’. It was a greeting that basically meant hello. But the interesting thing was, it also meant good bye.
But here it was the call ‘Salam’ that signified the friendly greeting.
It was still uncanny and largely daunting to hear only the calls of an unfamiliar language, but it was comforting to really understand even a single phrase.
As she contemplated the chit chat shared between members of the passing crowds, waiting for seconds to pass just a little faster, a group of children raced past, just barely avoiding a collision with Jade.
“Asif!” a boy shouted to her, hastily hurrying back to his group of friends.
She wished she could say something in return but ‘It’s ok’ probably would have just sounded strange in the circumstances.
Finding a nearby block of concrete Jade found a place to sit and resumed waiting. Waiting, and listening.
Before long a shadow was cast over her resting place, and she looked up to see its owner.
A boy, the boy from earlier stood, with a slight scowl creasing his face. He had choppy hair that was a deep brown tone. Like most others she had seen he had dark eyes, but his skin was a bit darker and redder than some of the people she’d seen earlier.
Jade wondered if he had a lack of sunscreen.
“Speak...Arabic you do not.” He faltered a bit, and his grammar was atrocious in Jade’s eyes. But she was excited that someone was talking to her, if somewhat put off by his ornery demeanor.
“No...I don’t speak Arabic.” She tried to sound apologetic, but it came out a little antagonized.
“Can speak with you English?” Ah. This is why he had approached her. Well, not a full explanation. But it was a start.
“Sure, what are you learning how to say?”
He paused, seemingly uninterested in actually giving the details of his plot. More likely, he was struggling to put it into English terms.
“I need to tell something to a friend.” His best sentence yet. A little less rough to the ears too.
“And they do not...speak Arabic?” Jade hadn’t known the language people around her spoke until he’d said it just seconds ago, but she caught on quickly.
“Aiwa.” He nodded.
Jade allowed their conversation some breath, to consider the proposal. It was not the suddenness of his request that bothered her, but his attitude that she disliked. He acted as though she had done him some wrong, when she was in fact prepared to help.
Perhaps it’s a cultural thing?
“Well what do you want to say?”
“Ask...I need to ask something from him.”
She waited for him to go on.
“I need his help. He change things...can change things. Save us from the big fight.”
“Big fight?” If Jade had been a girl who kept up on current affairs more often, this might ring a bell. The Israeli/Palestinian conflict was nothing new to the news, and certainly it was no small issue. But Jade’s homeschooling routine was loose at best, and as such her understanding of the rest of the world was thinner than it might of been.
“Big fight.” He nodded and looked a little more disgusted, or would have were that entirely possible. “My people and the Jews.” He spat the last syllables out, demonstrating their distaste.
“Well, just tell him you need help, right?” Jade was not entirely aware of the seriousness of the issue, but even she were she was always one to believe in simple solutions. For better or worse she saw answers to be uncomplex inevitabilities.
He made a pained expression, or perhaps it was simply aggravated. “I need...need to tell him very superficially.”
Jade gave up and burst into a fit of giggles. The boy appeared confused.
“D-do you mean specifically?” she asked, still a little choked up.
He nodded and turned away from her, visibly irritated.
“I’ll help you. Tell me the details and I’ll tell you what to say.”
“Works. He works at a place, very important. Fighters. Safety.”
“Military?”
The boy nodded enthusiastically. “Mi-lee-tay-ree.” He sounded it out excitedly.
“What else?” she asked.
“He must give us commands. Help us. Escape.”
“Secret instructions? Give away the attack plans? Tell you where to go?” A more ordinary might recognize that she was helping a rebellion transfer information. She was helping a rebellion go against the military. No small thing. But perhaps, you have noticed that Jade is not this ordinary girl.
Again, the boy nodded.
“Why don’t you tell him ‘Please send the blueprints for the next attack.’ oh and don’t forget to say ‘thank you.’”
This onslaught was a bit bewildering to the young Arab, so she took another several minutes sounding it out, till he had it memorized. He seemed pleased in the end.
“Shukran.” The gave a slight head bow.
“Eh...ah...” She wanted to respond with ‘you’re welcome’ but had no idea of the words in Arabic.
He seemed to sense this. “Al'afw.” he prompted.
“Al-waf.” she tried to reciprocate.
“Al’afw.” he insisted.
In a few tries she sounded quite good though her English accent stuck fast. It was then the boy chose to take his leave.
As he began to wander off, without a single parting gesture, she called out to him.
“My name is Jade. Salam!”
He turned back to look at her. Then began to laugh, a ringing laugh that travelled more than he intended. “Goodbye, stupid.” His mocking yet accented tone stuck in Jade’s mind for a while.
She could not have known, for some time at least that while Salam and Shalom both meant hello, Salam did not mean good bye. This little fact would escape her for some time. But what she did realize, is that she had not received an insult at the end of the conversation.
She had received a comrade.
✥✥✥
A dusty, growling engine marked the coming of her chariot.
Jade looked up, recounted her pocket change, and walked over to join the line that had just begun assembling itself.
Chatter grew louder as ex-passengers bustled off the ‘Egged’ public bus. She had no idea why the bus was called that, only that it had been the easiest public bus to track down. And frankly, that was plenty good enough.
With only the briefest look at her papers, Jade was shuffled in. Even though she was really an island girl, America’s seal of approval still decorated her passport, reminding all who saw, I am privileged. The conductor took her money, smiled, and moved her along. Not fast enough, however, for her to miss how he treated the man waiting behind her.
Nearly ranting, the conductor demanded what were probably special papers from the young man who looked into space, as though he comprehended not a word.
Jade took the time to make an educated guess: the man spoke Arabic, not the other language that everyone well provided for seemed to speak.
She paused, looking from her intended seat to the unfortunate would be passenger. And in a moment, she made a hasty and potentially risky decision.
“He’s with me!” she called to the conductor.
The conductor turned to her, looking unconvinced. She looked at the man, hoping to elicit his consent to her help. In a further attempt, she gestured he come with her. The man, in return, smiled, and moved towards her.
“But...the papers...” The conductor tried to convey, in a somewhat broken English.
People waiting in line began grumbling at the wait, and though Jade was not certain, it seemed as though they were saying, “Just let him go.” The conductor, overwhelmed, did exactly that, and with a silent cheer, Jade found a seat by the window. Within a few minutes, the driver revved the engine, and the bus began at steady if bumpy pace.
The man she had rescued followed, sitting beside her with a spacey grin hanging cheerily on his face. It was a strange expression, and one Jade expected he wore often.
Though she liked to help others, Jade couldn’t help feeling uneasy next to the man. His unusual aloofness seemed to mask something, something she hoped she would never see. Despite this, he did not look very capable of harm at all. He was quite tall, but younger looking up close. Jade wondered absently if she had mistook him for quite a bit older than reality allowed. He might well have been only in his late teens, merely a boy to most, but in comparison with Jade’s meager age, he was very much a man. Like most that surrounded her, he bore very dark hair, but his was especially wily, as though left completely to its own devices.
“Do you speak English?” she asked, cautiously.
The young man looked at her as blankly as he had looked at the conductor. The answer was wordlessly clear.
Without further explanation, he began tracing shapes on the seatback in front of him. Jade began to wonder if he was crazy, the way he so intently shaped each meaningless swirl, until she recognized what he was doing.
The man was writing.
Jade doubted even someone rather adept at Arabic would find his scrawlings particularly decipherable, but she marveled anyway. It was like he was drawing pictures. Unlike in English, every syllable flowed, like cursive but even more naturally.
With a small burst of inspiration, Jade spoke once again. “Jade,” she said, pointing to herself.
The man looked back at her again, pausing in the middle of what must have been a letter.
“Jade,” she repeated, still pointing to herself.
For a moment he did nothing. Then, as if concentrating very carefully, the young man lifted a finger and carried it through deliberate set of strokes.
Though no indent was left, she clearly saw the fluid movement, and call it intuition, she saw the meaning impressed upon the gray plastic.
“Jade?” she asked, in a tone that implied both a question and a statement.
He nodded, cycling through the pattern with a delicate finger once more.
Another silence loomed as the bus jostled them ever closer to Jerusalem.
“You?” she asked, emphasizing the question, knowing he would not recognize the word itself.
Again, he traced a finger, spelling out what must have been his name in syllables Jade was still unable to read.
She began to wonder, as he did this, if in fact the strange man could not talk. Without him once uttering a word, her conclusions couldn’t help but dance with possibility.
But, with his finger still poised on the end of his name, the man spoke.
“Esmee...Gamzee.” His voice, was deeper and rougher than she expected. His manner of speaking too, at least in this instant, was unusual. He bounced accenting with great force certain parts of a word, and softening on other sounds. He spoke exactly the way he wrote, dipping and diving only to resurface in a sharp curve.
“Gam-zee,” she repeated, just catching the term that was actually his name. He smiled in response, in approval perhaps of her revelation.
As they travelled further, the unexpected companions continued the same, intricate form of communication. But as time passed, they grew quieter and quieter, with a word from Jade only now and then. In the place of words, Gamzee demonstrated letters, and Jade copied, until she could sketch out her name herself. The pronunciation of each letter was lost of course, but the flow of writing taught another sense, a more simple and yet fanciful sense.
Jade was scribbling her name cheerfully when it happened.
She wasn’t sure what to call it at the time it occurred, but later, she would refer to it as the clash.
Though neither had realized it, drawing on the seat backs had some minor but discernable effect upon the occupant of the seat ahead. It certainly wasn’t bothersome, as long as one drew carefully, just a sweeping motion here and there. But the bus was on what you might call a capricious path.
With a sudden jerk, the bus lurched forward, causing Jade’s hand to propel forwards at the seat to her left. Gamzee in turn slipped, allowing his own hand to press uncomfortably between the two seats ahead. He made a yelp of pain, trying to retrieve his arm from the niche.
Jade, too, worked to untangle.
Subsequently, the passenger in front had received, in addition to the initial jolt, a fist in the back and the scratch of suspiciously long nails.
Without hesitation, an irritated passenger turned her head and stared the two of them down. She was clearly older than the two of them, in her thirties or later.
“Yeladeem,” she hissed, condescendingly.
Jade felt scared and apologetic, but not enough to let it bother her.
Gamzee, on the other hand, reacted with a growl. A truly feral release of what could have only been pure rage. As she watched, his eyes seemed to glow red in the heat of the moment. The woman only pursed her lips further, muttering “Arabs.” before turning her head haughtily and returning to her seat.
As her neighbor looked ready to continue the spat, Jade tried to distract him, patting his shoulder delicately, smiling, hushing him with words of it’s ok.
And thankfully, he responded to this well. He sunk down dreamily and remained completely silent for the rest of the journey.
When the bus did finally grind to a halt, Jade couldn’t resist trying again the only greeting she knew in Arabic.
“Salam, Gamzee.”
“Salam ukht,” he responded without hesitation, before moving into the crowd, pushing to touch fresh air once more.
Jade hardly saw him as he disappeared into the larger crowds of Jerusalem.
Kicking a small stone on the pavement, she retraced in the air once more the only thing she knew she could hold onto as hers, forever.
Jade.
✥✥✥
If she had expected peace and perhaps spiritual enlightenment, it was not what she received in Jerusalem.
Even through the narrower streets, Jade was constantly accosted by hoards of tourists, residents, shoppers and general public. It took some concentration for the girl to avoid them, though perhaps someone more city smart would have made out better.
The heat of the day was subsiding gradually and Jade turned to the sky to see a sun deepening in hue, and sinking as though the color gave it more weight.
She sighed, and hurried up the crowded sidewalk. She wouldn’t have much longer to explore, and she wanted to at least get a good look around.
Speaking of which, just a bit ahead she could make out a courtyard, as good a place as any to conceal adventure!
Coming closer she recognized olive trees adorning the tiled court and marble benches. Jade walked in, stepping lightly on the cold stone, which seemed oddly out of place in the dusty yet visibly alive city.
It was then she felt a distinct tingle and heard the memorable buzz she was so used to.
After a quick dig in her skirt pocket, Jade retrieved her mobile messaging device, a.k.a., cell phone.
For one so isolated physically, Jade had a firm belief in keeping connected via computer. But on the other hand, it was her isolation precisely that gave her incentive to uphold the motto. Rational or not, though, she had distinctively suggested to her friends that they keep no less than five computers on hand. While this might strike one as overdoing it, it was undeniable that Jade’s friends had a knack for losing contact through various means, often through a total lack of computing device.
Currently though, it was she who’d lost touch, and a chum pushed to work to the clockwork of friendship once more.
turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] at 2012-06-14 -- 10:46 am
TG: hey harley
Looks like she had forgotten to change the time on her cell phone. Strangely, her inner clock hadn’t felt the time adjustment at all. Then again, perhaps the speed of sea travel had broken it down gently enough for it to be overlooked.
GG: hey dave! wow it’s been kind of a while, how are you?
TG: chill as hell. usual
TG: and what about you in the great everything-thats-not-your-middle-of-nowhere-island
GG: heh. :) pretty sweet out here, the people are really nice!
TG: rad
TG: course you would be the one to find nice people in the middle of strife like that
GG: what do you mean strife?
TG: right
TG: forgot you never bother to keep up on news or any of that junk
TG: not that i do either but its kinda hard to miss down here
GG: pshh! yeah right, i bet you spend all your time cooped up in your room.
TG: gotta hide from the adoring sweaty masses somehow
TG: they hound me like vicious fleshy blood hounds
TG: cuz everyones gotta have a piece of this pie
TG: but damn striders just don’t come free
GG: haha, right dave. :D
TG: anyway back to the point
TG: i get around
TG: hear things here and there
TG: my understanding of world affairs is like the crown of a toddler’s shitty beauty pageant
TG: that is to say its solid gold
GG: ok then mr expert...enlighten me! its not as though i couldn’t benefit from a little “real knowledge” now and then.
TG: then prepare to get schoolfed
TG: things just got real
TG: you’re in isreal yeah
GG: yeah...
TG: well it wasn’t always israel
TG: see israel is a plot of land the jews took as their sacred homeland cuz they were sick of being tossed about and also generally pissed about nazis etc
TG: and lets face it they took a lot of hurt
TG: when all was said and done they wanted compensation so basically they got promised what we call israel
TG: except people were already living there
GG: who?
TG: arabs
TG: they were basically kicked out of their homes to make way for the jews
TG: needless to say they weren’t too psyched about the whole thing and fighting broke out as soon as the arabs rallied support
TG: but they lost
TG: arabs kept losing land and rights
TG: so resentment grew
TG: and then it blew the hell up
TG: literally
TG: radicals began bombing public places as demonstration and jews/israelis only got more defensive
TG: an ugly cycle thats lasted about a century now
GG: oh my god. what????!!
TG: ?
GG: WHATS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE??!!
TG: uh
GG: bleh this is why i’ll never get into politics. people never get along when its so simple! or, maybe its not simple...but still!!!
GG: who do you think is right?
TG: team picking?
TG: nah not my style
TG: dudes both messed up lets face it
GG: say if you could help though...who would you help?
TG: guess the arabs
TG: be pretty cool to have palestine be a real place and they took too much bull anyway
GG: er i may have helped them. sort of.
TG: spill
GG: well a boy needed to explain some stuff in english to a friend...i didn’t get it at first, but it was probably stuff for a rebellion...
TG: damn. you’ve outdone yourself harley
GG: ugh. he was so annoying too. i think i’m glad i helped though. but then again...
TG: then again
GG: then again what if they attack? what if more people get hurt? people in this very park could die because of a reckless little thing i did.
TG: calm down
GG: dave i’m flipping serious here!
TG: i get it jade
TG: shhhh
TG: its cool
GG: buh. like freaking out would make anything better.
TG: well yeah
TG: anyway if i were rose i could spout out some drivel about destiny and inevitability
TG: but thats not happening so heres my spiel
TG: everything that begins ends one way or another
TG: and yeah its probably gonna begin again somewhere else because thats how it is with paradox space ie no originality period
TG: but its all just a game and theres a ticking timer on every challenge
TG: so go for it run round the clock and don’t look back
TG: if your steps don’t match the rhythm take my hand and i’ll dance you through it like your personal tutorial or whatnot
GG: hehe. kay coolkid, i’ll take your word.
GG: so is this tango or salsa?
TG: aw naw screw those dances this is straight up freestyle
GG: fine by me! oh, better skedaddle. :P
TG: duty calls
GG: yeah i should get home...or home to the hotel at least.
TG: see ya then
GG: later! <3
Jade paused a moment, overviewing their conversation with a sense of homesickness. Rubbing a bit of sweat off with her palm, she wondered briefly if Israel were as hot as Texas. Dave always complained how the summers were miserably life draining, but she had no idea what that meant until now.
Her island had a relatively constant mild climate, nothing like the dry, torrid heat of the Middle East.
Jade wondered if she missed home as she pressed a hand to the olive tree beside her. It was not as though she ever been gone long enough to test her devotion to her home, and it was not often like her to be so sentimental about home.
Pressing a hand to her chest, she thought of Bec. She thought of the friends she chatted with so often; she knew them by heart. She thought of the island she had explored every inch of.
It was clear. Jade longed for home again. At the same time, however, she felt a need to be here, in Israel. Hearing about the conflict had made her distraught–– angry mostly. Maybe even a little scared.
Yet, above all, Jade felt --well-- important.
Blame it on the adrenaline of youth or the ego goaded by the intensity of real life situations. It is in all each of us who are there we all have the potential to help people at their time of need. All we need to do is be there to see a fight begin. We count on these moments, for they are the high peaks of our lives. The moments when we may bask in our own necessity, whether or not it is called for.
And Jade, as we all often do, reveled in the moment. This was it. Everything she’d expected, and yet entirely different from what she’d imagined.
Of course even in our greatest revelations, there will always be a distraction.
A couple, dressed in excessively becoming attire, strolled past at a casual speed, allowing their chatter to pull Jade from revery. She gazed at them as they continued what she assumed was a leisurely date. The girl’s hair, Jade noticed, was extremely long and rather curly. But it was very beautiful. Jade could only just make out the man, but what stood out the most were his gaudy accessories. And then, before Jade got the time to realize she was staring (and eavesdropping, though of course she understood nothing) the man pulled his companion over to a more secluded grove of olive trees.
Jade turned her head sharply, understanding too quickly what was going to take place.
Considering the culture, it was unlikely they would dare do more than kiss, but Jade felt uneasy none the less.
It took her a moment to accept just how embarrassed she was. Jade wondered why, for it was not as though she were the one kissing someone in public. Quivering a little, she got up, collected her few accoutrements, and hurried to return to the bus stop.
The sun was really setting now. Darkness set in as the bus pulled in and passengers spilled out, eager to be getting home once more. For the third time, Jade boarded an unfamiliar vehicle that must have taken hundreds of others throughout the day.
This time, there was no one to sit next to.
As the bus set off again, Jade couldn’t shake the feeling she was blushing.
Most of us think an awful lot about love before we’re anywhere near it. Jade couldn’t figure out, though, what she was thinking about. Why did she feel like something had changed?
Jade rested her head back on the seat. Traveling was not effortless, she’d discovered. And her mind, body and heart all felt a little worn from the days events.
Have fun in your air conditioned room cool kid.
I’ll be here...living it up as they say.
Her messy thoughts unwove and subconscious took over.
Only dreams now, was the last thought she could remember.
✥✥✥
Jade didn’t reach the hotel until nearly eleven at night. She wondered, as she ascended via the elevator, if her grandfather was worried about her. She had left nothing to explain where she had been for the day.
Unsurprisingly, however, when she asked the maid, she was told her grandfather had not returned yet.
Aradia had made up Jade’s bed after she had left for the day, and Jade made sure to thank her, hoping to fare a little better in conversation. And, Jade noted happily, Aradia was in a perkier mood than this morning.
“How much English do you speak?” Jade asked cautiously.
Aradia was hesitant to respond, but she did clearly and eloquently. “I know more than most people who take this job.” Her voice still had that slight hollowness to it, and Jade began to realize, it was likely because the language she spoke was so different from English.
“Why are you in this job anyway?”
Aradia shrugged. “I was needed, and so I’m here.”
Jade was quite sure she didn’t understand, but she didn’t ask for further explanation. Whatever the reason was, she didn’t need to know yet.
They went on with the loose small talk for only a couple of minutes, Aradia did have a job to finish. Jade herself was about ready to turn in after the long day.
But before she did, she was careful to part from the maid only after giving her the greeting she had learned during the day.
“Shalom,” Jade said, with a slight head bow.
Aradia smiled for the first time. It was stunning.
“Shalom,” she said simply before leaving Jade to marvel. The simplest of expressions have impact often much deeper than words could dare to describe.
Without another word, Jade slipped into her room and hastened to get her clothes off and pajamas on. It was a habit she had, to rush through getting ready. Living alone, she always wanted to jump into bed as fast as possible, to hide under the covers, knowing they would protect her. During the day Bec was all the protection she’d ever need.
But at night...
Today however, Jade wasn’t scared. She was excited.
She was inspired. She was envisioning everything on a scale only she could see. This gave her a power, the ability to see further than her eyes could. Jade would be able to help those lost in their own maze.
But not now. That time was later.
As it was, she ducked under covers and snuggled in against the clean cotton sheets, rough against her fingertips, but cool against her skin soaked with the heat of day.
Jade would spend eternity in her mind thinking of the day’s events, but mere minutes in reality before the sandman accepted her graciously into his arms.
Cold moonlight peered through the window, lighting Jade’s profile as she slept. The night promised all would be well in dreamland.
But the coming day never makes promises.
✥✥✥
When Jade woke, the early blue light of morning was still not bright enough to light the room. Wondering if maybe he was still here, she walked across the hall to check on her grandfather.
The room was well kempt and the bed made. Her grandfather could not have stayed the night.
Jade wasn’t really worried to know that he wasn’t there. Nor did she feel she missed the man greatly. But it wasn’t a pleasant feeling either.
Like something was out of place.
After brushing her hair and straightening up a bit, Jade scurried downstairs to the lobby. At the front desk a single attendant typed away busily at his computer.
“Excuse me?” Jade began, to get his attention.
“Yeth,” he answered, with a heavy lisp. Or perhaps it was just accent?
“I’m looking for my grandfather. Has Jake English been in lately?” Jade did not share her grandfather’s last name, for reasons unknown to her. She knew little of her parents except their appearance, for there was a statue of the two of them at home in the foyer. Her grandfather told her it was tradition to have lost family members captured in statuary. Jade was never clear if the act of sentimentality was genuine or forced.
She always wondered why they seemed to look nothing like her.
“Nope.” the clerk answered, without looking up from his work.
“Well, did he leave anything saying where he would be?” Jade urged him on.
Finally the man looked up. He wore an odd pair of glasses that must have been custom made. They were ovaline and the glass was tinted blue. His dark eyes stared down at her with boredom at best and irritation at worst.
“Do you have identification?” He drew out the ‘i’ a bit, and Jade was confused, before she realized what he was saying. She fumbled to procure her passport from her back pocket and hand it up to the clerk.
He paused, looked the passport over and returned it. Jade started to put in her pocket again, when he spoke. “Wouldn’t keep it there if I were you, maketh a theifth job eathy.” His English was actually incredibly good, but the lisp ruined the effect completely. “Your grandfather thaid he’th thpending thome time in the Palethtinian dithtrict. He’ll be back tomorrow.”
Jade nodded, and thanked the clerk, making out what he said with minimal difficulty.
But now that she knew (generally speaking) where he was, she was free to do as she pleased, by her own ethics at least.
And Jade could not wait another minute to get out into the real world once more.
She had plans to return to Jerusalem, but to visit a different area this time. Her route would be more direct so she could have more time. Grinning a bit, Jade grabbed her things and put them in a lunch box, a container she often used for toting anything she didn’t want to carry directly in hand.
“That’s that then,” she said, looking back on the room with a pleased expression. With that she turned and began to run, letting her shoes clack on the hallway floor with short, excited optimism.
✥✥✥
Within three hours (give or take), Jade found herself walking the stone streets of Jerusalem. One thing she especially liked about this part of the city was how much of it was tiled, as though the whole place were some ancient marble court.
Since she had brought little along with her, it was nearing the time she’d want to grab a bite, but she’d have to find a place to get the food first. Finding a place was not a problem, even without the gift of knowledge in relation to the Hebrew alphabet, Jade could still tell which stores were offering food. The nature of the food, however, was less discernible.
And whether or not she’d be able to communicate would be a whole other story, but the occasional gurgles of her stomach would allow her to wait until she got back to the hotel.
Jade stopped in her path to pick out the closest restaurants. From what she could tell, there were three, four if you counted the man selling pies, or what appeared to be pies. Jade couldn’t see exactly what they contained but figured she’d rather go to a real restaurant anyway. She rather wanted to rest her legs while she ate.
The two restaurants to her right appeared to be complete opposites. One was what appeared to be a spin off of Burger King, whereas the other was a high class tea house. To Jade’s left, a yellow cafe with clear glass windows gave her an inviting view. She wasn’t sure what food would be sold, but a glance at the plush window seats was all it took to send her running across the street and in the door.
A bell jangled overhead as Jade walked in, startling her slightly.
Jade went to sit down at the window seat that was still open. From the inside she could see the place was actually quite a bit more crowded than it appeared from the outside. The seats, however, were just as they appeared. Jade sunk in dreamily.
“Is this seat taken,” an unfamiliar voice said, without implying a question. Jade looked up to see a tall woman with short, stylish black hair and very light skin. Standing beside her, a boy perhaps no older than Jade herself, with dark hair in a neatly cut mohawk. Unlike the woman’s, though, his skin was quite dark. From appearance at least, Jade couldn’t imagine the two were related.
“No, of course not,” Jade responded with a smile.
The two moved to sit down across from her, and as they did Jade noticed two things. First, both of them had an aura of worry surrounding them. Second, the boy had a leg that was very injured. She couldn’t tell through his clothes, but it looked like there might not be a leg at all.
Though Jade was happy to have company after a long bus ride and solitary stroll through the city, the two she found herself opposite from unnerved her. It was not that they seemed dangerous, or even unfriendly. Perhaps it was their very defenselessness that scared her.
The boy’s wounds, though Jade could not see them, made her stomach turn and her heart shudder.
For a moment, silence filled the air, then the woman spoke, this time with a bit more feeling.
“Are you from here?”
“No...I’m from the South Atlantic.” Jade paused, feeling curious. “Do I look like I’m from here?” she asked, with genuine interest.
“Somewhat,” the woman replied, with just a hint of a smirk. Jade certainly did have a skin tone tanned enough to blend in with most of the locals, and her hair, too, was quite dark. But her face was a completely different shape, and her eyes a soft green.
Still, it was nice to know she didn’t stick out like a sore thumb.
“I’m Jade. What’s your name?” she asked, with the intention to get over her unease and make friends.
“Kanaya,” the woman replied, then added, “and this is--” But she was interrupted by a waitress.
“Ma ata me'vakesh le׳hazmeen?” asked a sunny young waitress, decked in uniform.
Jade could guess what the girl was asking, but she had no idea how to respond. Thankfully, Kanaya took over.
“Ano rotzeh shalosh burekas, bevakasha.” Kanaya spoke with ease, and the waitress responded accordingly, scribbling down the order on her notepad.
“Metzuyan,” the waitress replied, and turned to take the order to the kitchen.
Kanaya returned her focus to Jade, smiling brightly. “I hope you won’t mind that I ordered for you.”
“O-of course not. Thank you very much. Really it was quite helpful.” Jade played with her hair nervously.
“I’m sure you’ll love it. You can get Burekas anywhere in Jerusalem, but never quite like the ones at Tsah-hov. The phyllo dough is hand made even.. They’re Tavros’s favorites.” The boy nodded eagerly as Kanaya mentioned his name.
“So...I don’t mean to pry, but where do you two come from? Your English is perfect...and you can speak the native language too?”
Kanaya frowned. “Hebrew is not the native language, not to anyone who reads a history book. But yes, I speak Hebrew and English and Arabic, which is my native tongue, as well as Tavros’s.”
“That’s amazing...” Jade said, in wonder. “And are you two...related...?” She continued, curiously.
“Tavros is a friend of a friend. Or perhaps enemy.” Kanaya’s tone turned dark, but she made light of it. “Anyway, I’m accompanying him here to help him connect with a colleague of mine. That’s all. But what about you, what called you to Israel at this tender age?”
Jade paused before beginning. She had been feeling so happy about being here, she’d almost forgotten why she came. “I’m here with my grandfather. He has some peace meetings to make and other business.”
Kanaya looked almost alarmed, but her voice kept a cool steady tone. “After you eat, you should probably leave this area of town.”
“Why?” Jade felt a slight chill as her two companions carefully avoided eye contact.
“It’s going to be rush hour in this place soon. Not much fun for a foreigner. The shopkeepers will eat you alive.”
Jade didn’t answer for a moment, but she nodded her head, choosing to accept the advice, for now at least.
After a few awkward silences, the waitress returned with three plates, each holding a light golden wedge of unravelling paper-thin dough. Jade picked it up excitedly, but dropped it again instantly as it burned her fingers.
“Have some water,” Kanaya suggested, “then eat.”
Jade nodded, and took a substantial drink before picking up her bureka again. As she brought it closer to her mouth, holding it with a paper napkin this time, the appetizing scent of freshly baked dough and spinach grew stronger. She took a small bite, and chewed the cheesy-spinach center that complemented the flaky crust.
It was delicious.
Jade smiled in delight and took a second bite quickly, relishing her first meal that day. She looked back to Kanaya and Tavros to see if they were enjoying the food as much as she was, only to see Kanaya standing up straight and looking tensely out the window.
“They said we wouldn’t start until later...” she muttered. Tavros looked down at the floor, and Jade couldn’t see his expression.
Jade looked out the window. At first, nothing looked particularly out of the ordinary, but then, she noticed a small crowd was beginning to form.
“I think you should go now, Jade.”
“But...I’m not done eating yet. I haven’t even paid.” Jade was incredulous. Why would she even consider getting up and leaving now?
“I’ll pay for you. Don’t worry, just take your food in a napkin and leave.” Her tone was harsh, but her eyes filled with worry.
The boy, Tavros, looked up and awkwardly placed his hand on hers. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes seemed to be pleading with her.
Go now, please. Before it’s too late.
Unsure what else to do, Jade collected her things, put the bureka in her lunch box, and started for the door. It was then that she heard the loud crash of splintering gas. Customers began shrieking in panic and employees rushed out of the kitchen to offer aid.
The culprit behind the shattered window was obscured in the chaos, but the force that had so impacted the glass was clear. A heavy rock lay on a now-deserted dining table.
Jade looked outside again to see the previously small crowd, now a raging, rioting rebellious mass. Many held signs of protest, some just stood and shouted, but a few held rocks and flung them at anything intimidating.
Jade had never seen a protest, certainly not one this violent, and she trembled as the image of strife burned into her mind. She would never forget this moment or this terror.
She looked back to Kanaya and Tavros to find them heading for the door, not away from the violence that erupted from the center of the street but into it. They were, Jade realized with horror, protesting alongside the others.
Jade only knew she didn’t want to be here anymore. She rushed for the door, where everyone else wanted to get away as much as she did. She was pushed between the desperate limbs and terrified flesh like a kitten among cats escaping from a bath.
And the sirens began. Alarms, likely those of the police, began to ring out, forcing Jade to plug her ears.
She hoped that if the police arrived things would settle down and everything would be peaceful again, but the next sound she heard told her this was not the case.
A gun shot pierced the already raucous air, just as Jade managed to squeeze out the door. Her first coherent thought was, but the protesters don’t even have any guns with them...And then she looked and saw protesters gathering around something–– someone, she realized with horror.
The police had shot a protester. A person, a human being, an individual without proper protection. He was now dead, just for an argument over land.
Jade’s stomach turned. She couldn’t understand, and she wouldn’t understand.
I thought this was the land of milk and honey...
but this is the land of blood and rage.
Shakily she found a discarded sign and turned it over. There wasn’t much she could do, but she couldn’t do nothing either. Jade got out a pen, and as quickly as she could, inscribed her own message.
But things kept happening while she wasn’t looking. The protesters flew into a rage over their martyr, and many threw rocks, tears streaming down their face. The police responded with defensive maneuvers, but a few more gunshots followed. And outsiders shouted curses in Hebrew. With all the chaos, accidents were inevitable.
After an especially loud set of screams, Jade looked up to see a second crowd, this time much closer to her. Eyes widening in trepidation, she watched as a girl’s body was picked up from the street and carried on the arms of civilians unaffiliated with the protest. A rock had disfigured her face entirely and her blood spilled to the ground in a steady trickle. The girl’s blue hat had fallen to the ground to be trampled by hundreds of mourning feet.
Jade drew out the rest of her message and stood up, struggling to keep from crying. Then she walked into the middle of the brawl, holding her sign high. People were still yelling and as Jade was reaching the center, a hand pulled her back and an ornery voice called to her.
“What are doing? You idiot!”
“You!” Jade answered with astonishment. It was the boy from the bus stop, the one she had given directions to.
“Get out. Here not is your place.” He looked at her with a surprisingly serious expression for one with such poor grammar.
Jade felt her temper rise and knocked aside his hand. “You don’t know me at all. What gives you the right to tell me what to do?”
The boy pointed to her sign. “But it ok when you tell us what to do?’ he hissed.
Jade paused. Was she in the wrong? Even if all she wanted was for the stupid fight to end?
“Just let me hold up the sign. I’ll leave afterwards.”
He looked hesitant, but he let her go. In a state of conflict, there is only so much one stranger can do to aid another. And when it comes to issues like these, we will all back our own message, be it right or wrong.
Jade walked forwards, and though no one really stopped, some began to read her sign. Not everyone knew the English alphabet, but several did and they whispered Jade’s message amongst themselves.
“Shalom.”
A simple greeting, the first thing Jade had learned since coming to Israel. It was a name of many meanings.
Hello.
Goodbye.
But most importantly, peace.
And Jade’s little message wouldn’t stop the anger coursing through the veins of both sides, but it did cause some to draw back a little. Some ran away, some dropped their weapons, and the police restrained themselves from firing. Slowly, the fight came to an end.
Perhaps because of Jade, perhaps merely from exhaustion.
It wasn’t pleasant seeing the police haul away those involved in the protest, but it was better than watching the two sides kill each other.
It was not a resolution, and it wasn’t really a happy ending.
But as Jade picked up the pieces of her perception of reality (along with her lunch box) she wore the faintest smile. There was still something good left. Something that warmed her heart as she set off on the bus. Something that put the spring back in her step as she walked back into the hotel.
Hope.
✥✥✥
“Grandpop?’ Jade asked as she tiptoed into his room. To her great surprise, he was there.
“Right here, love. Hows my little eclectica?” Her grandfather turned giving a wide grin as he polished his mustache.
Jade smiled in return. “I’m feeling...hopeful! But I was sort of hoping you could do me a favor.”
“Favor?” His green eyes gleamed from behind his glasses, certainly the most youthful part of his appearance.
“Yes...I think I want to know more about your meetings.”
Her grandfather chuckled.
It is dedicated to the villains, the rivals I never really had, and everyone whoever found out how to get in my way.
The story is dedicated to my sidekicks and bit characters whose importance I probably failed to realize.
And most importantly, it is dedicated to everyone whose story continues.
How it Begins
When I tell someone a story, I’m never quite sure where to begin. Perhaps this is because, the way I see it, nothing ever begins and nothing ever ends. It’s just time and space waltzing an eternal tango, laughing as you try to keep up with the steps, bumping into everyone else around you, who even if they don’t seem so, are every bit as lost as you are.
A friend of mine could tell you all about time, perhaps he’d set it down in a few rhymes just to remind you how much he’d thought about it. But I can’t spend that long thinking about its complications.
All that matters is right here, right now.
But even I have to look back once in a while, to re-assemble the pictures in a photo album, to remember why exactly things happened the way they did. For all the precious gems in the past, and for all the sacred moments that were lost. For every triumph marked by grave defeat, and each milestone born from true sorrow. The future would not be were it not for these little occurrences.
And it is for this reason that I must tell you a story.
✥✥✥
“Jade, I assure you this will be a ripsnorter of a day. The tomfoolery my fellows got up here was dogged infallible!” A grandfather bellowed his usual encouragement with a hand firmly on his granddaughter's shoulder. In the distance she could see the harbor as they finally reached their destination, the long foretold Israel.
“I can’t wait to try out the honey!” The girl’s voice was a bit high pitched, perhaps due to nerves or perhaps due to excitement, but more probably both.
“The honey?” the old man glanced at her with a befuddled eye.
“They call it the land of milk and honey right? I want to taste the honey.”
He paused for a moment, then laughed a great echoing laugh. “That’s not what they meant Jade, love, they meant nectar. It’s in the prophecy that bequeathed Israel to the Jews, you see.”
Jade did not see, nor did she wish to see. Her cheeks reddened a bit, but it was easy to imagine that was only the brisk wind bringing out the color. Indeed, the sea air was chilling as a passenger of her grandfather’s cruiser, though in fact she was too used to the temperature for it to bother her.
It was unlike Jade to allow her excitement to bubble up like a puppy’s, only to let it sink again at her own failure, but something about being with her grandfather changed her demeanor.
She was used to living alone on a island in the South Atlantic while he galavanted around the globe bringing back trophies right and left. This was only her second travel with him, and the first that had been so far from home.
It was not by any stretch, that Jade disliked her grandfather. She admired him and pursued many of his interests with her own hand. But when it came to his physical presence, it was usually rather...intense.
At this point he was belting out an old tale, an adventure he’d had with a crony of his. He spat giddily of how they rescued a village from both its watery grave as the tide crept closer, and its fiery death as a volcano threatened to bring the city to the ground. He’d told the story on numerous occasions, and it never sounded the same twice.
Jade turned to face the fast approaching shore. She really was excited and she really was nervous. What little contact she had with her grandfather, she had even less with the real world. This venture into a land of people she had never met, people who likely didn’t even speak the same language, this was big. But it was also, in her shining thirteen-year-old eyes, a chance for the beginning.
The beginning of what?
Jade didn’t quite know yet. She figured she’d find out later.
The sun sunk lower on the horizon, giving the dock a golden tint as they sailed in at last. A chauffeur welcomed them, as any gracious host would, and took them directly to the hotel they would be staying at.
The ride was pretty much a blur as the colors of Tel Aviv melded in the view provided by the car windows.
With little conscious to guide her, Jade made her way to her room with the help of a compassionate hotel maid. In a typical family, it might have been Jade’s grandfather who took this role of helping his sleepy grand daughter to bed. In this family however, that would never be the case. One might call it an unspoken rule, that permitted the freedom between the two of them.
Some need unity to solidify relationships. Others, wilt without room to breath.
Darkness invited and without hesitation, she accepted and ascended to a world where clouds tell you the future. A world of dreams.
✥✥✥
“Good morning.” A hollow voice greeted Jade as she struggled to release herself from the bulky covers.
“Good morning! Are you the maid from last night?” Jade answered in her usual spirited tone, hoping to elicit similar enthusiasm.
The maid merely nodded, and turned to tend to the room. As she got up fully, Jade reached for her glasses, hoping to regain the farsight she lost without them. As her vision cleared, she saw the maid a bit better.
It was a very young woman with long hair that seemed somewhat un-tended to. Her eyes were a dark color, though Jade couldn’t really get a good look at them the way the maid kept darting around. Her skin, much like that of the other people of the land, was sandy and tinted by the sun. Jades own skin could hardly be called pale, but hers held more of the pink pigment she was born with.
Nothing about the way the maid looked was unnerving, but the silence was paralyzing. Strange considering Jade had lived almost everyday as wordless as a silent film.
“What is your name?” Jade asked in a curious tone.
The quiet loomed heavily.
“Aradia.” The maid shot out, as though the sound would bite.
“Uh-rah-di-a” Jade sounded out, trying to get a feel for it. It didn’t sound as pretty on her slow tongue.
Aradia was nearly finished straightening the room and prepared to leave. She picked up the utensils she had needed, and turned to go, but not without asking, “Is there anything that you will be needing?” in a tone that implied courtesy but lacked feeling.
“No...thank you.” Jade responded, unsure of what she should have said. “My name is Jade, by the way.” She tacked it on the end, hoping Aradia would remember.
“Jay-de. Nice to be meeting you Jade.” Aradia left curtly, but her dull words allowed Jade a smile of relief.
This is it. This is how you meet people. This is how you talk.
And maybe....this is how you make friends.
✥✥✥
Skipping over cobblestones, Jade stared up at a shocking blue sky penetrated only by the buildings that curved like a river with the street. Everything seemed awfully cramped but not in a bad way. It was rather friendly to see the many people walking from place to place, children playing with friends on street corners.
But the chatter that surrounded her was surprisingly hard to adjust to. One couldn’t walk a step without a burst of speech that was completely unfamiliar. Even when, here and there, bypassers spoke English, to Jade, it sounded nothing like English.
Currently, Jade was a few cities from the hotel, on her day trip to Jerusalem. She had checked on her grandfather to find him completely out of range, likely at a meeting of sorts. Negotiations between embassies was the initial reason for the trip. Jade’s coming had merely been an unexpected tag along, but there was no reason not to make the best of it.
She knew little or nothing about Israel (as her thoughts on the land of Milk and Honey might conclude) but she had at least heard of the Capitol. Jerusalem was renowned for being a holy city, another thing Jade was unfamiliar with.
As far as Jade was concerned, the only god she ever needed was her best friend Bec. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t curious about the devotion of those who didn’t consider their dog to be the only divine.
So as the only city whose name she could recall, and a famous area no less, Jade had chosen Jerusalem as her target for the day.
It was a long trip, though, and while waiting for the second bus, she found herself somewhere that seemed strangely less safe. It wasn’t obvious at first, but in time it became clear.
This was a refugee camp.
Alright, it was the signs at the border that made her realize, but the border control was a pretty good hint, too.
The people that chattered busily around her looked worse for wear compared to those she’d seen in the streets of Tel Aviv. The words they spoke, too, though just as alien as the language she’d heard before, were different. In time she’d managed to pick out one key phrase.
In Tel Aviv and on the bus, people had been saying ‘Shalom’. It was a greeting that basically meant hello. But the interesting thing was, it also meant good bye.
But here it was the call ‘Salam’ that signified the friendly greeting.
It was still uncanny and largely daunting to hear only the calls of an unfamiliar language, but it was comforting to really understand even a single phrase.
As she contemplated the chit chat shared between members of the passing crowds, waiting for seconds to pass just a little faster, a group of children raced past, just barely avoiding a collision with Jade.
“Asif!” a boy shouted to her, hastily hurrying back to his group of friends.
She wished she could say something in return but ‘It’s ok’ probably would have just sounded strange in the circumstances.
Finding a nearby block of concrete Jade found a place to sit and resumed waiting. Waiting, and listening.
Before long a shadow was cast over her resting place, and she looked up to see its owner.
A boy, the boy from earlier stood, with a slight scowl creasing his face. He had choppy hair that was a deep brown tone. Like most others she had seen he had dark eyes, but his skin was a bit darker and redder than some of the people she’d seen earlier.
Jade wondered if he had a lack of sunscreen.
“Speak...Arabic you do not.” He faltered a bit, and his grammar was atrocious in Jade’s eyes. But she was excited that someone was talking to her, if somewhat put off by his ornery demeanor.
“No...I don’t speak Arabic.” She tried to sound apologetic, but it came out a little antagonized.
“Can speak with you English?” Ah. This is why he had approached her. Well, not a full explanation. But it was a start.
“Sure, what are you learning how to say?”
He paused, seemingly uninterested in actually giving the details of his plot. More likely, he was struggling to put it into English terms.
“I need to tell something to a friend.” His best sentence yet. A little less rough to the ears too.
“And they do not...speak Arabic?” Jade hadn’t known the language people around her spoke until he’d said it just seconds ago, but she caught on quickly.
“Aiwa.” He nodded.
Jade allowed their conversation some breath, to consider the proposal. It was not the suddenness of his request that bothered her, but his attitude that she disliked. He acted as though she had done him some wrong, when she was in fact prepared to help.
Perhaps it’s a cultural thing?
“Well what do you want to say?”
“Ask...I need to ask something from him.”
She waited for him to go on.
“I need his help. He change things...can change things. Save us from the big fight.”
“Big fight?” If Jade had been a girl who kept up on current affairs more often, this might ring a bell. The Israeli/Palestinian conflict was nothing new to the news, and certainly it was no small issue. But Jade’s homeschooling routine was loose at best, and as such her understanding of the rest of the world was thinner than it might of been.
“Big fight.” He nodded and looked a little more disgusted, or would have were that entirely possible. “My people and the Jews.” He spat the last syllables out, demonstrating their distaste.
“Well, just tell him you need help, right?” Jade was not entirely aware of the seriousness of the issue, but even she were she was always one to believe in simple solutions. For better or worse she saw answers to be uncomplex inevitabilities.
He made a pained expression, or perhaps it was simply aggravated. “I need...need to tell him very superficially.”
Jade gave up and burst into a fit of giggles. The boy appeared confused.
“D-do you mean specifically?” she asked, still a little choked up.
He nodded and turned away from her, visibly irritated.
“I’ll help you. Tell me the details and I’ll tell you what to say.”
“Works. He works at a place, very important. Fighters. Safety.”
“Military?”
The boy nodded enthusiastically. “Mi-lee-tay-ree.” He sounded it out excitedly.
“What else?” she asked.
“He must give us commands. Help us. Escape.”
“Secret instructions? Give away the attack plans? Tell you where to go?” A more ordinary might recognize that she was helping a rebellion transfer information. She was helping a rebellion go against the military. No small thing. But perhaps, you have noticed that Jade is not this ordinary girl.
Again, the boy nodded.
“Why don’t you tell him ‘Please send the blueprints for the next attack.’ oh and don’t forget to say ‘thank you.’”
This onslaught was a bit bewildering to the young Arab, so she took another several minutes sounding it out, till he had it memorized. He seemed pleased in the end.
“Shukran.” The gave a slight head bow.
“Eh...ah...” She wanted to respond with ‘you’re welcome’ but had no idea of the words in Arabic.
He seemed to sense this. “Al'afw.” he prompted.
“Al-waf.” she tried to reciprocate.
“Al’afw.” he insisted.
In a few tries she sounded quite good though her English accent stuck fast. It was then the boy chose to take his leave.
As he began to wander off, without a single parting gesture, she called out to him.
“My name is Jade. Salam!”
He turned back to look at her. Then began to laugh, a ringing laugh that travelled more than he intended. “Goodbye, stupid.” His mocking yet accented tone stuck in Jade’s mind for a while.
She could not have known, for some time at least that while Salam and Shalom both meant hello, Salam did not mean good bye. This little fact would escape her for some time. But what she did realize, is that she had not received an insult at the end of the conversation.
She had received a comrade.
✥✥✥
A dusty, growling engine marked the coming of her chariot.
Jade looked up, recounted her pocket change, and walked over to join the line that had just begun assembling itself.
Chatter grew louder as ex-passengers bustled off the ‘Egged’ public bus. She had no idea why the bus was called that, only that it had been the easiest public bus to track down. And frankly, that was plenty good enough.
With only the briefest look at her papers, Jade was shuffled in. Even though she was really an island girl, America’s seal of approval still decorated her passport, reminding all who saw, I am privileged. The conductor took her money, smiled, and moved her along. Not fast enough, however, for her to miss how he treated the man waiting behind her.
Nearly ranting, the conductor demanded what were probably special papers from the young man who looked into space, as though he comprehended not a word.
Jade took the time to make an educated guess: the man spoke Arabic, not the other language that everyone well provided for seemed to speak.
She paused, looking from her intended seat to the unfortunate would be passenger. And in a moment, she made a hasty and potentially risky decision.
“He’s with me!” she called to the conductor.
The conductor turned to her, looking unconvinced. She looked at the man, hoping to elicit his consent to her help. In a further attempt, she gestured he come with her. The man, in return, smiled, and moved towards her.
“But...the papers...” The conductor tried to convey, in a somewhat broken English.
People waiting in line began grumbling at the wait, and though Jade was not certain, it seemed as though they were saying, “Just let him go.” The conductor, overwhelmed, did exactly that, and with a silent cheer, Jade found a seat by the window. Within a few minutes, the driver revved the engine, and the bus began at steady if bumpy pace.
The man she had rescued followed, sitting beside her with a spacey grin hanging cheerily on his face. It was a strange expression, and one Jade expected he wore often.
Though she liked to help others, Jade couldn’t help feeling uneasy next to the man. His unusual aloofness seemed to mask something, something she hoped she would never see. Despite this, he did not look very capable of harm at all. He was quite tall, but younger looking up close. Jade wondered absently if she had mistook him for quite a bit older than reality allowed. He might well have been only in his late teens, merely a boy to most, but in comparison with Jade’s meager age, he was very much a man. Like most that surrounded her, he bore very dark hair, but his was especially wily, as though left completely to its own devices.
“Do you speak English?” she asked, cautiously.
The young man looked at her as blankly as he had looked at the conductor. The answer was wordlessly clear.
Without further explanation, he began tracing shapes on the seatback in front of him. Jade began to wonder if he was crazy, the way he so intently shaped each meaningless swirl, until she recognized what he was doing.
The man was writing.
Jade doubted even someone rather adept at Arabic would find his scrawlings particularly decipherable, but she marveled anyway. It was like he was drawing pictures. Unlike in English, every syllable flowed, like cursive but even more naturally.
With a small burst of inspiration, Jade spoke once again. “Jade,” she said, pointing to herself.
The man looked back at her again, pausing in the middle of what must have been a letter.
“Jade,” she repeated, still pointing to herself.
For a moment he did nothing. Then, as if concentrating very carefully, the young man lifted a finger and carried it through deliberate set of strokes.
Though no indent was left, she clearly saw the fluid movement, and call it intuition, she saw the meaning impressed upon the gray plastic.
“Jade?” she asked, in a tone that implied both a question and a statement.
He nodded, cycling through the pattern with a delicate finger once more.
Another silence loomed as the bus jostled them ever closer to Jerusalem.
“You?” she asked, emphasizing the question, knowing he would not recognize the word itself.
Again, he traced a finger, spelling out what must have been his name in syllables Jade was still unable to read.
She began to wonder, as he did this, if in fact the strange man could not talk. Without him once uttering a word, her conclusions couldn’t help but dance with possibility.
But, with his finger still poised on the end of his name, the man spoke.
“Esmee...Gamzee.” His voice, was deeper and rougher than she expected. His manner of speaking too, at least in this instant, was unusual. He bounced accenting with great force certain parts of a word, and softening on other sounds. He spoke exactly the way he wrote, dipping and diving only to resurface in a sharp curve.
“Gam-zee,” she repeated, just catching the term that was actually his name. He smiled in response, in approval perhaps of her revelation.
As they travelled further, the unexpected companions continued the same, intricate form of communication. But as time passed, they grew quieter and quieter, with a word from Jade only now and then. In the place of words, Gamzee demonstrated letters, and Jade copied, until she could sketch out her name herself. The pronunciation of each letter was lost of course, but the flow of writing taught another sense, a more simple and yet fanciful sense.
Jade was scribbling her name cheerfully when it happened.
She wasn’t sure what to call it at the time it occurred, but later, she would refer to it as the clash.
Though neither had realized it, drawing on the seat backs had some minor but discernable effect upon the occupant of the seat ahead. It certainly wasn’t bothersome, as long as one drew carefully, just a sweeping motion here and there. But the bus was on what you might call a capricious path.
With a sudden jerk, the bus lurched forward, causing Jade’s hand to propel forwards at the seat to her left. Gamzee in turn slipped, allowing his own hand to press uncomfortably between the two seats ahead. He made a yelp of pain, trying to retrieve his arm from the niche.
Jade, too, worked to untangle.
Subsequently, the passenger in front had received, in addition to the initial jolt, a fist in the back and the scratch of suspiciously long nails.
Without hesitation, an irritated passenger turned her head and stared the two of them down. She was clearly older than the two of them, in her thirties or later.
“Yeladeem,” she hissed, condescendingly.
Jade felt scared and apologetic, but not enough to let it bother her.
Gamzee, on the other hand, reacted with a growl. A truly feral release of what could have only been pure rage. As she watched, his eyes seemed to glow red in the heat of the moment. The woman only pursed her lips further, muttering “Arabs.” before turning her head haughtily and returning to her seat.
As her neighbor looked ready to continue the spat, Jade tried to distract him, patting his shoulder delicately, smiling, hushing him with words of it’s ok.
And thankfully, he responded to this well. He sunk down dreamily and remained completely silent for the rest of the journey.
When the bus did finally grind to a halt, Jade couldn’t resist trying again the only greeting she knew in Arabic.
“Salam, Gamzee.”
“Salam ukht,” he responded without hesitation, before moving into the crowd, pushing to touch fresh air once more.
Jade hardly saw him as he disappeared into the larger crowds of Jerusalem.
Kicking a small stone on the pavement, she retraced in the air once more the only thing she knew she could hold onto as hers, forever.
Jade.
✥✥✥
If she had expected peace and perhaps spiritual enlightenment, it was not what she received in Jerusalem.
Even through the narrower streets, Jade was constantly accosted by hoards of tourists, residents, shoppers and general public. It took some concentration for the girl to avoid them, though perhaps someone more city smart would have made out better.
The heat of the day was subsiding gradually and Jade turned to the sky to see a sun deepening in hue, and sinking as though the color gave it more weight.
She sighed, and hurried up the crowded sidewalk. She wouldn’t have much longer to explore, and she wanted to at least get a good look around.
Speaking of which, just a bit ahead she could make out a courtyard, as good a place as any to conceal adventure!
Coming closer she recognized olive trees adorning the tiled court and marble benches. Jade walked in, stepping lightly on the cold stone, which seemed oddly out of place in the dusty yet visibly alive city.
It was then she felt a distinct tingle and heard the memorable buzz she was so used to.
After a quick dig in her skirt pocket, Jade retrieved her mobile messaging device, a.k.a., cell phone.
For one so isolated physically, Jade had a firm belief in keeping connected via computer. But on the other hand, it was her isolation precisely that gave her incentive to uphold the motto. Rational or not, though, she had distinctively suggested to her friends that they keep no less than five computers on hand. While this might strike one as overdoing it, it was undeniable that Jade’s friends had a knack for losing contact through various means, often through a total lack of computing device.
Currently though, it was she who’d lost touch, and a chum pushed to work to the clockwork of friendship once more.
turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] at 2012-06-14 -- 10:46 am
TG: hey harley
Looks like she had forgotten to change the time on her cell phone. Strangely, her inner clock hadn’t felt the time adjustment at all. Then again, perhaps the speed of sea travel had broken it down gently enough for it to be overlooked.
GG: hey dave! wow it’s been kind of a while, how are you?
TG: chill as hell. usual
TG: and what about you in the great everything-thats-not-your-middle-of-nowhere-island
GG: heh. :) pretty sweet out here, the people are really nice!
TG: rad
TG: course you would be the one to find nice people in the middle of strife like that
GG: what do you mean strife?
TG: right
TG: forgot you never bother to keep up on news or any of that junk
TG: not that i do either but its kinda hard to miss down here
GG: pshh! yeah right, i bet you spend all your time cooped up in your room.
TG: gotta hide from the adoring sweaty masses somehow
TG: they hound me like vicious fleshy blood hounds
TG: cuz everyones gotta have a piece of this pie
TG: but damn striders just don’t come free
GG: haha, right dave. :D
TG: anyway back to the point
TG: i get around
TG: hear things here and there
TG: my understanding of world affairs is like the crown of a toddler’s shitty beauty pageant
TG: that is to say its solid gold
GG: ok then mr expert...enlighten me! its not as though i couldn’t benefit from a little “real knowledge” now and then.
TG: then prepare to get schoolfed
TG: things just got real
TG: you’re in isreal yeah
GG: yeah...
TG: well it wasn’t always israel
TG: see israel is a plot of land the jews took as their sacred homeland cuz they were sick of being tossed about and also generally pissed about nazis etc
TG: and lets face it they took a lot of hurt
TG: when all was said and done they wanted compensation so basically they got promised what we call israel
TG: except people were already living there
GG: who?
TG: arabs
TG: they were basically kicked out of their homes to make way for the jews
TG: needless to say they weren’t too psyched about the whole thing and fighting broke out as soon as the arabs rallied support
TG: but they lost
TG: arabs kept losing land and rights
TG: so resentment grew
TG: and then it blew the hell up
TG: literally
TG: radicals began bombing public places as demonstration and jews/israelis only got more defensive
TG: an ugly cycle thats lasted about a century now
GG: oh my god. what????!!
TG: ?
GG: WHATS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE??!!
TG: uh
GG: bleh this is why i’ll never get into politics. people never get along when its so simple! or, maybe its not simple...but still!!!
GG: who do you think is right?
TG: team picking?
TG: nah not my style
TG: dudes both messed up lets face it
GG: say if you could help though...who would you help?
TG: guess the arabs
TG: be pretty cool to have palestine be a real place and they took too much bull anyway
GG: er i may have helped them. sort of.
TG: spill
GG: well a boy needed to explain some stuff in english to a friend...i didn’t get it at first, but it was probably stuff for a rebellion...
TG: damn. you’ve outdone yourself harley
GG: ugh. he was so annoying too. i think i’m glad i helped though. but then again...
TG: then again
GG: then again what if they attack? what if more people get hurt? people in this very park could die because of a reckless little thing i did.
TG: calm down
GG: dave i’m flipping serious here!
TG: i get it jade
TG: shhhh
TG: its cool
GG: buh. like freaking out would make anything better.
TG: well yeah
TG: anyway if i were rose i could spout out some drivel about destiny and inevitability
TG: but thats not happening so heres my spiel
TG: everything that begins ends one way or another
TG: and yeah its probably gonna begin again somewhere else because thats how it is with paradox space ie no originality period
TG: but its all just a game and theres a ticking timer on every challenge
TG: so go for it run round the clock and don’t look back
TG: if your steps don’t match the rhythm take my hand and i’ll dance you through it like your personal tutorial or whatnot
GG: hehe. kay coolkid, i’ll take your word.
GG: so is this tango or salsa?
TG: aw naw screw those dances this is straight up freestyle
GG: fine by me! oh, better skedaddle. :P
TG: duty calls
GG: yeah i should get home...or home to the hotel at least.
TG: see ya then
GG: later! <3
Jade paused a moment, overviewing their conversation with a sense of homesickness. Rubbing a bit of sweat off with her palm, she wondered briefly if Israel were as hot as Texas. Dave always complained how the summers were miserably life draining, but she had no idea what that meant until now.
Her island had a relatively constant mild climate, nothing like the dry, torrid heat of the Middle East.
Jade wondered if she missed home as she pressed a hand to the olive tree beside her. It was not as though she ever been gone long enough to test her devotion to her home, and it was not often like her to be so sentimental about home.
Pressing a hand to her chest, she thought of Bec. She thought of the friends she chatted with so often; she knew them by heart. She thought of the island she had explored every inch of.
It was clear. Jade longed for home again. At the same time, however, she felt a need to be here, in Israel. Hearing about the conflict had made her distraught–– angry mostly. Maybe even a little scared.
Yet, above all, Jade felt --well-- important.
Blame it on the adrenaline of youth or the ego goaded by the intensity of real life situations. It is in all each of us who are there we all have the potential to help people at their time of need. All we need to do is be there to see a fight begin. We count on these moments, for they are the high peaks of our lives. The moments when we may bask in our own necessity, whether or not it is called for.
And Jade, as we all often do, reveled in the moment. This was it. Everything she’d expected, and yet entirely different from what she’d imagined.
Of course even in our greatest revelations, there will always be a distraction.
A couple, dressed in excessively becoming attire, strolled past at a casual speed, allowing their chatter to pull Jade from revery. She gazed at them as they continued what she assumed was a leisurely date. The girl’s hair, Jade noticed, was extremely long and rather curly. But it was very beautiful. Jade could only just make out the man, but what stood out the most were his gaudy accessories. And then, before Jade got the time to realize she was staring (and eavesdropping, though of course she understood nothing) the man pulled his companion over to a more secluded grove of olive trees.
Jade turned her head sharply, understanding too quickly what was going to take place.
Considering the culture, it was unlikely they would dare do more than kiss, but Jade felt uneasy none the less.
It took her a moment to accept just how embarrassed she was. Jade wondered why, for it was not as though she were the one kissing someone in public. Quivering a little, she got up, collected her few accoutrements, and hurried to return to the bus stop.
The sun was really setting now. Darkness set in as the bus pulled in and passengers spilled out, eager to be getting home once more. For the third time, Jade boarded an unfamiliar vehicle that must have taken hundreds of others throughout the day.
This time, there was no one to sit next to.
As the bus set off again, Jade couldn’t shake the feeling she was blushing.
Most of us think an awful lot about love before we’re anywhere near it. Jade couldn’t figure out, though, what she was thinking about. Why did she feel like something had changed?
Jade rested her head back on the seat. Traveling was not effortless, she’d discovered. And her mind, body and heart all felt a little worn from the days events.
Have fun in your air conditioned room cool kid.
I’ll be here...living it up as they say.
Her messy thoughts unwove and subconscious took over.
Only dreams now, was the last thought she could remember.
✥✥✥
Jade didn’t reach the hotel until nearly eleven at night. She wondered, as she ascended via the elevator, if her grandfather was worried about her. She had left nothing to explain where she had been for the day.
Unsurprisingly, however, when she asked the maid, she was told her grandfather had not returned yet.
Aradia had made up Jade’s bed after she had left for the day, and Jade made sure to thank her, hoping to fare a little better in conversation. And, Jade noted happily, Aradia was in a perkier mood than this morning.
“How much English do you speak?” Jade asked cautiously.
Aradia was hesitant to respond, but she did clearly and eloquently. “I know more than most people who take this job.” Her voice still had that slight hollowness to it, and Jade began to realize, it was likely because the language she spoke was so different from English.
“Why are you in this job anyway?”
Aradia shrugged. “I was needed, and so I’m here.”
Jade was quite sure she didn’t understand, but she didn’t ask for further explanation. Whatever the reason was, she didn’t need to know yet.
They went on with the loose small talk for only a couple of minutes, Aradia did have a job to finish. Jade herself was about ready to turn in after the long day.
But before she did, she was careful to part from the maid only after giving her the greeting she had learned during the day.
“Shalom,” Jade said, with a slight head bow.
Aradia smiled for the first time. It was stunning.
“Shalom,” she said simply before leaving Jade to marvel. The simplest of expressions have impact often much deeper than words could dare to describe.
Without another word, Jade slipped into her room and hastened to get her clothes off and pajamas on. It was a habit she had, to rush through getting ready. Living alone, she always wanted to jump into bed as fast as possible, to hide under the covers, knowing they would protect her. During the day Bec was all the protection she’d ever need.
But at night...
Today however, Jade wasn’t scared. She was excited.
She was inspired. She was envisioning everything on a scale only she could see. This gave her a power, the ability to see further than her eyes could. Jade would be able to help those lost in their own maze.
But not now. That time was later.
As it was, she ducked under covers and snuggled in against the clean cotton sheets, rough against her fingertips, but cool against her skin soaked with the heat of day.
Jade would spend eternity in her mind thinking of the day’s events, but mere minutes in reality before the sandman accepted her graciously into his arms.
Cold moonlight peered through the window, lighting Jade’s profile as she slept. The night promised all would be well in dreamland.
But the coming day never makes promises.
✥✥✥
When Jade woke, the early blue light of morning was still not bright enough to light the room. Wondering if maybe he was still here, she walked across the hall to check on her grandfather.
The room was well kempt and the bed made. Her grandfather could not have stayed the night.
Jade wasn’t really worried to know that he wasn’t there. Nor did she feel she missed the man greatly. But it wasn’t a pleasant feeling either.
Like something was out of place.
After brushing her hair and straightening up a bit, Jade scurried downstairs to the lobby. At the front desk a single attendant typed away busily at his computer.
“Excuse me?” Jade began, to get his attention.
“Yeth,” he answered, with a heavy lisp. Or perhaps it was just accent?
“I’m looking for my grandfather. Has Jake English been in lately?” Jade did not share her grandfather’s last name, for reasons unknown to her. She knew little of her parents except their appearance, for there was a statue of the two of them at home in the foyer. Her grandfather told her it was tradition to have lost family members captured in statuary. Jade was never clear if the act of sentimentality was genuine or forced.
She always wondered why they seemed to look nothing like her.
“Nope.” the clerk answered, without looking up from his work.
“Well, did he leave anything saying where he would be?” Jade urged him on.
Finally the man looked up. He wore an odd pair of glasses that must have been custom made. They were ovaline and the glass was tinted blue. His dark eyes stared down at her with boredom at best and irritation at worst.
“Do you have identification?” He drew out the ‘i’ a bit, and Jade was confused, before she realized what he was saying. She fumbled to procure her passport from her back pocket and hand it up to the clerk.
He paused, looked the passport over and returned it. Jade started to put in her pocket again, when he spoke. “Wouldn’t keep it there if I were you, maketh a theifth job eathy.” His English was actually incredibly good, but the lisp ruined the effect completely. “Your grandfather thaid he’th thpending thome time in the Palethtinian dithtrict. He’ll be back tomorrow.”
Jade nodded, and thanked the clerk, making out what he said with minimal difficulty.
But now that she knew (generally speaking) where he was, she was free to do as she pleased, by her own ethics at least.
And Jade could not wait another minute to get out into the real world once more.
She had plans to return to Jerusalem, but to visit a different area this time. Her route would be more direct so she could have more time. Grinning a bit, Jade grabbed her things and put them in a lunch box, a container she often used for toting anything she didn’t want to carry directly in hand.
“That’s that then,” she said, looking back on the room with a pleased expression. With that she turned and began to run, letting her shoes clack on the hallway floor with short, excited optimism.
✥✥✥
Within three hours (give or take), Jade found herself walking the stone streets of Jerusalem. One thing she especially liked about this part of the city was how much of it was tiled, as though the whole place were some ancient marble court.
Since she had brought little along with her, it was nearing the time she’d want to grab a bite, but she’d have to find a place to get the food first. Finding a place was not a problem, even without the gift of knowledge in relation to the Hebrew alphabet, Jade could still tell which stores were offering food. The nature of the food, however, was less discernible.
And whether or not she’d be able to communicate would be a whole other story, but the occasional gurgles of her stomach would allow her to wait until she got back to the hotel.
Jade stopped in her path to pick out the closest restaurants. From what she could tell, there were three, four if you counted the man selling pies, or what appeared to be pies. Jade couldn’t see exactly what they contained but figured she’d rather go to a real restaurant anyway. She rather wanted to rest her legs while she ate.
The two restaurants to her right appeared to be complete opposites. One was what appeared to be a spin off of Burger King, whereas the other was a high class tea house. To Jade’s left, a yellow cafe with clear glass windows gave her an inviting view. She wasn’t sure what food would be sold, but a glance at the plush window seats was all it took to send her running across the street and in the door.
A bell jangled overhead as Jade walked in, startling her slightly.
Jade went to sit down at the window seat that was still open. From the inside she could see the place was actually quite a bit more crowded than it appeared from the outside. The seats, however, were just as they appeared. Jade sunk in dreamily.
“Is this seat taken,” an unfamiliar voice said, without implying a question. Jade looked up to see a tall woman with short, stylish black hair and very light skin. Standing beside her, a boy perhaps no older than Jade herself, with dark hair in a neatly cut mohawk. Unlike the woman’s, though, his skin was quite dark. From appearance at least, Jade couldn’t imagine the two were related.
“No, of course not,” Jade responded with a smile.
The two moved to sit down across from her, and as they did Jade noticed two things. First, both of them had an aura of worry surrounding them. Second, the boy had a leg that was very injured. She couldn’t tell through his clothes, but it looked like there might not be a leg at all.
Though Jade was happy to have company after a long bus ride and solitary stroll through the city, the two she found herself opposite from unnerved her. It was not that they seemed dangerous, or even unfriendly. Perhaps it was their very defenselessness that scared her.
The boy’s wounds, though Jade could not see them, made her stomach turn and her heart shudder.
For a moment, silence filled the air, then the woman spoke, this time with a bit more feeling.
“Are you from here?”
“No...I’m from the South Atlantic.” Jade paused, feeling curious. “Do I look like I’m from here?” she asked, with genuine interest.
“Somewhat,” the woman replied, with just a hint of a smirk. Jade certainly did have a skin tone tanned enough to blend in with most of the locals, and her hair, too, was quite dark. But her face was a completely different shape, and her eyes a soft green.
Still, it was nice to know she didn’t stick out like a sore thumb.
“I’m Jade. What’s your name?” she asked, with the intention to get over her unease and make friends.
“Kanaya,” the woman replied, then added, “and this is--” But she was interrupted by a waitress.
“Ma ata me'vakesh le׳hazmeen?” asked a sunny young waitress, decked in uniform.
Jade could guess what the girl was asking, but she had no idea how to respond. Thankfully, Kanaya took over.
“Ano rotzeh shalosh burekas, bevakasha.” Kanaya spoke with ease, and the waitress responded accordingly, scribbling down the order on her notepad.
“Metzuyan,” the waitress replied, and turned to take the order to the kitchen.
Kanaya returned her focus to Jade, smiling brightly. “I hope you won’t mind that I ordered for you.”
“O-of course not. Thank you very much. Really it was quite helpful.” Jade played with her hair nervously.
“I’m sure you’ll love it. You can get Burekas anywhere in Jerusalem, but never quite like the ones at Tsah-hov. The phyllo dough is hand made even.. They’re Tavros’s favorites.” The boy nodded eagerly as Kanaya mentioned his name.
“So...I don’t mean to pry, but where do you two come from? Your English is perfect...and you can speak the native language too?”
Kanaya frowned. “Hebrew is not the native language, not to anyone who reads a history book. But yes, I speak Hebrew and English and Arabic, which is my native tongue, as well as Tavros’s.”
“That’s amazing...” Jade said, in wonder. “And are you two...related...?” She continued, curiously.
“Tavros is a friend of a friend. Or perhaps enemy.” Kanaya’s tone turned dark, but she made light of it. “Anyway, I’m accompanying him here to help him connect with a colleague of mine. That’s all. But what about you, what called you to Israel at this tender age?”
Jade paused before beginning. She had been feeling so happy about being here, she’d almost forgotten why she came. “I’m here with my grandfather. He has some peace meetings to make and other business.”
Kanaya looked almost alarmed, but her voice kept a cool steady tone. “After you eat, you should probably leave this area of town.”
“Why?” Jade felt a slight chill as her two companions carefully avoided eye contact.
“It’s going to be rush hour in this place soon. Not much fun for a foreigner. The shopkeepers will eat you alive.”
Jade didn’t answer for a moment, but she nodded her head, choosing to accept the advice, for now at least.
After a few awkward silences, the waitress returned with three plates, each holding a light golden wedge of unravelling paper-thin dough. Jade picked it up excitedly, but dropped it again instantly as it burned her fingers.
“Have some water,” Kanaya suggested, “then eat.”
Jade nodded, and took a substantial drink before picking up her bureka again. As she brought it closer to her mouth, holding it with a paper napkin this time, the appetizing scent of freshly baked dough and spinach grew stronger. She took a small bite, and chewed the cheesy-spinach center that complemented the flaky crust.
It was delicious.
Jade smiled in delight and took a second bite quickly, relishing her first meal that day. She looked back to Kanaya and Tavros to see if they were enjoying the food as much as she was, only to see Kanaya standing up straight and looking tensely out the window.
“They said we wouldn’t start until later...” she muttered. Tavros looked down at the floor, and Jade couldn’t see his expression.
Jade looked out the window. At first, nothing looked particularly out of the ordinary, but then, she noticed a small crowd was beginning to form.
“I think you should go now, Jade.”
“But...I’m not done eating yet. I haven’t even paid.” Jade was incredulous. Why would she even consider getting up and leaving now?
“I’ll pay for you. Don’t worry, just take your food in a napkin and leave.” Her tone was harsh, but her eyes filled with worry.
The boy, Tavros, looked up and awkwardly placed his hand on hers. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes seemed to be pleading with her.
Go now, please. Before it’s too late.
Unsure what else to do, Jade collected her things, put the bureka in her lunch box, and started for the door. It was then that she heard the loud crash of splintering gas. Customers began shrieking in panic and employees rushed out of the kitchen to offer aid.
The culprit behind the shattered window was obscured in the chaos, but the force that had so impacted the glass was clear. A heavy rock lay on a now-deserted dining table.
Jade looked outside again to see the previously small crowd, now a raging, rioting rebellious mass. Many held signs of protest, some just stood and shouted, but a few held rocks and flung them at anything intimidating.
Jade had never seen a protest, certainly not one this violent, and she trembled as the image of strife burned into her mind. She would never forget this moment or this terror.
She looked back to Kanaya and Tavros to find them heading for the door, not away from the violence that erupted from the center of the street but into it. They were, Jade realized with horror, protesting alongside the others.
Jade only knew she didn’t want to be here anymore. She rushed for the door, where everyone else wanted to get away as much as she did. She was pushed between the desperate limbs and terrified flesh like a kitten among cats escaping from a bath.
And the sirens began. Alarms, likely those of the police, began to ring out, forcing Jade to plug her ears.
She hoped that if the police arrived things would settle down and everything would be peaceful again, but the next sound she heard told her this was not the case.
A gun shot pierced the already raucous air, just as Jade managed to squeeze out the door. Her first coherent thought was, but the protesters don’t even have any guns with them...And then she looked and saw protesters gathering around something–– someone, she realized with horror.
The police had shot a protester. A person, a human being, an individual without proper protection. He was now dead, just for an argument over land.
Jade’s stomach turned. She couldn’t understand, and she wouldn’t understand.
I thought this was the land of milk and honey...
but this is the land of blood and rage.
Shakily she found a discarded sign and turned it over. There wasn’t much she could do, but she couldn’t do nothing either. Jade got out a pen, and as quickly as she could, inscribed her own message.
But things kept happening while she wasn’t looking. The protesters flew into a rage over their martyr, and many threw rocks, tears streaming down their face. The police responded with defensive maneuvers, but a few more gunshots followed. And outsiders shouted curses in Hebrew. With all the chaos, accidents were inevitable.
After an especially loud set of screams, Jade looked up to see a second crowd, this time much closer to her. Eyes widening in trepidation, she watched as a girl’s body was picked up from the street and carried on the arms of civilians unaffiliated with the protest. A rock had disfigured her face entirely and her blood spilled to the ground in a steady trickle. The girl’s blue hat had fallen to the ground to be trampled by hundreds of mourning feet.
Jade drew out the rest of her message and stood up, struggling to keep from crying. Then she walked into the middle of the brawl, holding her sign high. People were still yelling and as Jade was reaching the center, a hand pulled her back and an ornery voice called to her.
“What are doing? You idiot!”
“You!” Jade answered with astonishment. It was the boy from the bus stop, the one she had given directions to.
“Get out. Here not is your place.” He looked at her with a surprisingly serious expression for one with such poor grammar.
Jade felt her temper rise and knocked aside his hand. “You don’t know me at all. What gives you the right to tell me what to do?”
The boy pointed to her sign. “But it ok when you tell us what to do?’ he hissed.
Jade paused. Was she in the wrong? Even if all she wanted was for the stupid fight to end?
“Just let me hold up the sign. I’ll leave afterwards.”
He looked hesitant, but he let her go. In a state of conflict, there is only so much one stranger can do to aid another. And when it comes to issues like these, we will all back our own message, be it right or wrong.
Jade walked forwards, and though no one really stopped, some began to read her sign. Not everyone knew the English alphabet, but several did and they whispered Jade’s message amongst themselves.
“Shalom.”
A simple greeting, the first thing Jade had learned since coming to Israel. It was a name of many meanings.
Hello.
Goodbye.
But most importantly, peace.
And Jade’s little message wouldn’t stop the anger coursing through the veins of both sides, but it did cause some to draw back a little. Some ran away, some dropped their weapons, and the police restrained themselves from firing. Slowly, the fight came to an end.
Perhaps because of Jade, perhaps merely from exhaustion.
It wasn’t pleasant seeing the police haul away those involved in the protest, but it was better than watching the two sides kill each other.
It was not a resolution, and it wasn’t really a happy ending.
But as Jade picked up the pieces of her perception of reality (along with her lunch box) she wore the faintest smile. There was still something good left. Something that warmed her heart as she set off on the bus. Something that put the spring back in her step as she walked back into the hotel.
Hope.
✥✥✥
“Grandpop?’ Jade asked as she tiptoed into his room. To her great surprise, he was there.
“Right here, love. Hows my little eclectica?” Her grandfather turned giving a wide grin as he polished his mustache.
Jade smiled in return. “I’m feeling...hopeful! But I was sort of hoping you could do me a favor.”
“Favor?” His green eyes gleamed from behind his glasses, certainly the most youthful part of his appearance.
“Yes...I think I want to know more about your meetings.”
Her grandfather chuckled.