Suicide
Bombings, Terrorism, Death and Terrorists are automatically
associated to the Arabic language, some will say rightfully so, and
some who will say its wrongful. Daniel Salame written about the
suspicion he encountered as an Arabic speaker, with mixed emotions
During
operation “Protective Edge” I was officer in active duty in the
Air Force. A year after the operation, a special event was held in
the Western Wall to give Torah Books to the families of fallen
soldiers, donated by buisnessmen from North America. It took long
time to plan this event, and it cost a fortune. The one who initiated
and driven it was a Jewish buisnessman from Canada. I was invited to
the event as an honorary guest of this dear, kind-hearted Jewish man,
and it moved me very much.
Of
course I had to send my personal details a month early so I will pass
security checks by the American security and the Shin Bet (They
secured the event tightly. God knows where my passport number and
visa are passing now. Visa to the U.S okay? I am not dumb enough to
give away my credit card details. I only keep them on my phone and
various websites that no one has access to. Please don't tell
anyone).
Embarassing,
I don't know Jerusalem at all. I parked near the Ammunition Hill and
from there I took the light rail. I was lost very quickly in the
market near the Western Wall and arrived to place that was empty
except for Arab merchants. One of them noticed I was lost, and asked
me in Hebrew if I need help. I answered in Arabic that yes, I do need
help, and I hesitated for a moment because I didn't know if it will
be smart to tell him in Arabic that I'm going to a ceremony in which
Torah books will be given in the Western Wall. If I still was on
active duty they would make inquiry about it.
In
the event I was sitted near many officers and IDF top-ranked
officers. The IDF chief of staff and the director of the Shin-Bet sat
in a row in front of me, the President of Israel and the chief rabbis
where there, and other senior figures from politics and security,
ambassadors of various states, and many donors and buisnessmen. I set
with all of them in the VIP section, about a meter from the stage. I
admit, it was one of the most touching moments in my life.
Next
day's morning, on my way to work, I called my mother, excited to tell
her about last night. I told her how it has been, she asked me when I
returned back to Tel-Aviv, why I didn't call yesterday to say I got
back home safely. I didn't spare any detail, after all I was excited
to be a part of it. And as everytime we talk on the phone, we spoke
in Arabic.
Before
me a woman who walked down the street and she turned her head back to
me every 4-5 seconds. She stared at me very rudely, and accelerated
her steps to get further. For her dismay I walk in the speed I talk,
so even though she tried to avoid me we both stood, shoulder to
shoulder, waiting for the traffic lights to change so we can cross
the road. I meant to stand near her. She moved to the other side and
looked at me like I might jump on her and kill her. Just because I
spoke to my mother in Arabic.
Many
thoughts raced through my mind. I admit, I was angry, but I wanted to
talk to her. I wanted to tell her “You shouldn't be afraid, I speak
Arabic, but I'm not a terrorist”. I wanted to tell her where I was
less than 12 hours ago, about all the honoraries from IDF, Shin-Bet
and the Ambassadors I sat with, that she probably wouldn't get to be
in their presence, or to get in. I wanted to tell her that I was an
IAF officer (and still am in reserve duty). I wanted to calm her down
and tell her everything is fine. I wanted to tell her that only few
hours ago I was deeply moved when I saw parents who lost their
children in the war, getting Torah books in their children honour
with teary eyes. I wanted to say I wore the same uniform as they
wore, and took part in the same war.
But
I didn't say anything. Haven't said a word. I knew it wouldn't help.
I thought that I didn't really need to explain myself to someone
choose to be scared of me without knowing me, just because of my
language.
To
this day I'm not sure how I feel about it – angry at her, feel
sorry for her, sad for her, sad for me. I don't know if it's racism,
ignorance or fear from a language that directly associates to
bombings and death.
In
the first vist of Germany's PM in Israel in 2014, there was a huge
discussion about if she should speak at the Knesset in German, and
thus allowing the language of the Nazi's to be heard in the heart of
one of Israel's most important institutions, Israel that rised from
the ashes of the victims of the Holocaust. After considerations,
Germany's PM read her speech in German and said that the atrocities
were comitted by the Nazis not by the language.
I
understood that I wasn't offended personally from this occurrence,
after all she doesn't know me, she has no clue who I am. She head
Arabic in a street in Tel-Aviv, and she might not be used to it. She
wasn't scared of me, she was scared from my language and what she
associates it with: Murder, Death, Bombins, Terror. Maybe she
witnessed a terror attack, was present in a scary situation or lost a
person dear to her in one. With all my justified anger, I thought to
myself, how can I judge her?
The
following day I went down the same street and went to buy coffee on
my way to work. The clerk is an Arab and knows me for a long time.
“Good morning Ahmed, my regular, please”, I said. “Why suddenly
you ask your order in Hebrew and not Arabic?” he wondered. “I
don't know”, I replied in Arabic, “I didn't even notice”.
Daniel Salame is an Israeli of Druze origin, he is a columnist in NRG and Social Media entertainer. He has given me permission to translate to the best of my ability this column. The original coulmn in Hebrew can be found here.
