Margie, Maamouls, and the Arab/Israeli Crisis

Margie was in great form today! She wanted to get out into the world, and she was steady on her feet and sharp in her mind, so off we went to our old hangout for a cappuccino and a walnut maamoul. (Maamouls were 50 cents before Covid, $2 now; pretty much like everything else.) I said it’s been a long time since we came here, and she nodded her head, “Feels like years and years. How long is it really?” 

“About seven months.”

“No! Is that all? I have no sense of time.” Not pausing, she continued in a rush, “I’ve been wanting to ask you something, and I want you to tell me the truth because I’m very confused from reading the Times and listening to the news, and I need you to explain it to me. What the hell is going on in Israel?”

I told her, to the best of my ability, sticking to the facts as I understand them. I drew maps on our napkins.

“So Netanyahu, that guy, I’ve always thought he was a terrible person. He’s giving Jewish soldiers orders to kill Arabs?” 

Yes, I nodded, “With the support of US dollars, US planes, and bombs made in the USA. They’re bombing Palestine to dust, and the world is horrified.”

Margie squinted her eyes as if to see more clearly. “So it was Arabs who started this, but now they’re the underdogs? And Jews are bombing them? Isn’t that going to make people hate Jews all over again?”

I explain, “But there are lots of Jewish people in Israel and the USA, all over the world, who don’t support this policy, don’t support Netanyahu. Like you, Margie.”

She took some time with that idea, paused, squinted again. “But what’s the solution? How will this end?”

I said nobody knows. 

“They have to stop hating each other, and the only way to do that is one by one. Each Jew has to get to know an Arab, and each Arab has to get to know a Jew, till they find out they’re really the same. They’re brothers and sisters. That’s how it is with Blacks and whites in this country, and it’s slow. It takes a few generations, but in the end, anybody can be a doctor if that’s what they want to be.”

By the time Margie came to that conclusion, we had finished our coffee and maamoul. We had walked a few blocks, talking all the way, Margie pushing her rollator, me walking beside her. We took a break from the conversation and talked about the weather. It was threatening to rain again. I made a few photos of her. As we got to her door, she asked,

“So tell me, I need to get this. What the hell is going on in Israel?”