Sunday, January 31, 2010
Lo Sababa
When learning a new language, early on you always seem to run into those words which you probably don't use too often in English, but knowing their translated equivalent makes you want to use it all the time. So I've come across two such words in Hebrew, the first being "ha-tool", meaning "cat" and the second one being "sababa", meaning "cool". Now if you've ever been to Israel, or most Middle-Eastern countries for that matter you know why "ha-tool" is a significant word. There are stray cats everywhere in this city! Plus its a fun word yell at them when you walk nearby and then see them dart off into a bush. This post, however, doesn't focus on cats. Instead it focuses on the other word I mentioned, "sababa" or cool. Actually, to be more precise it has more to do with the phrase "lo sababa" or "not cool".
So here's what happened.
The other day after getting out of class at one, a few of my friends from BU said they were going out to an orientation to volunteer for a program called Save a Child's Heart. It's sort of a Ronald McDonald House type of program except instead of cancer it is focused on kids from all over the world who need emergency pediatric heart surgery. This sounded like a really interesting opportunity for me so I decided I'd come along. Having just gotten a bike for myself I figured I'd ride to the center while my friends took a cab. I'd see some of the city, explore a little bit, and get some exercise in the process. Win-win right? I thought so too.
In preparation I turned to my new best friend here, Google Maps. It turned out that the building for this program was not actually in Tel Aviv but in a suburb called Azor, 8.5 miles away. It would take a little longer to get there than I had anticipated, I was up for it. I wrote down some directions and street names on a notes card, grabbed my Camelbak and rolled out.
The ride was very interesting. I started off in Ramat Aviv, a region of Tel Aviv separated from the city proper by a river, and pedaled downtown. I passed by several very tall skyscrapers, the headquarters of the Israeli Defense Forces, and strangely a Harley Davidson dealer. I found that there were many many more IDF soldiers around the downtown area than I was used to seeing around Ramat Aviv, which wasn't really surprising. They were unloading from buses, waiting for buses, and just generally hanging around. I'm starting to get used to their presence but I still take a second glance when I see a guy or girl my age walking around in dark green IDF army fatigues with an assault rifle slung over his shoulder and two full clips of ammo on his belt. Israel's got this whole "citizen soldier" idea down to an art. Now, being from a country which produces incidents like Fort Hood, I sometimes wonder why none of these young kids who are conscripted into the army for a mandatory 3-4 years ever goes ballistic on a crowd. Then I remember that this place isn't like America at all. The concept of a "fellow American" isn't usually the first thing I think about when I consider someone I see in the States, but here, the concept of a "fellow Israeli" is a much more potent thing. The way I see it, Israelis are those kids who were picked on at the playground all the time by bigger countries, so those kids banded together, built their own clubhouse, and look out for each other now. Not a bad plan. They're really serious about looking out for each other too. Israel will release hundreds of Palestinian prisoners just to ensure the release of a single captured IDF soldier. Thats what I call comraderie.
Back to the ride. After I had passed through downtown, I hit a more suburban area. I was pretty stoked to see where the people who worked in Tel Aviv actually lived. There were kids walking back from school, riding skateboards on the sidewalks, and babies crying from inside homes. The homes themselves were all pretty similar. Boxy, tan or blue-grey, with slatted windows instead of panes of glass. I'd describe it as "quaint".
I pedaled out of the residential area into what looked like a pretty sketchy part of town full of grungy shops, grungy eateries, grungy factories, and junk yards. Definitely not a place I'd like to be going though in the middle of the night. It was after this part of my ride that I hit the highway stretch separating Tel Aviv from Azor. I guess you could say I was biking along a "highway" but but there were no on-ramps or off-ramps so I just consider it a really busy road that just happened to have three lanes in each direction. It was here that it happened. Maybe it was because I had bought my bike from a shady Israeli drunk who had stolen it or maybe the tires were just a bit worn out, but as I was pedaling along the side of the road I ran over a small piece of wood and heard an obvious "pop".
Lo Sababa.
So there I was on the side of a very busy road roughly seven miles from my dorm with no choice but to run with my bike the mile or so left to the orientation. And thats what I did. I hung a left at the first sign on the road point to Azor and made my way through less busy streets attempting to find Borochov St. I got a little nervous and made an attempt with my limited Hebrew to ask where this road was. I approached an older woman on a bus bench and asked, "eifo borochov?", at which point she simply continued staring at me blankly and then shook her head as slowly as one possibly could. So much for that.
Nonetheless I eventually located the Save a Child's Heart house and walked in on my friends already being introduced to the place by one of the staff. From what she said this organization sounds pretty awesome. SCH goes to countries with poor medical facilities and finds kids who are in desperate need of heart surgery, flies them out to Israel and puts them up in the SCH house to stay for the weeks or months while they are getting pre-op checkups, surgery, and post-op observation. While I was there I saw some other volunteers playing with a group of Angolan children in the living room. There were Disney characters painted on the walls, children's drawings everywhere, and even a string of flags representing several African countries. It really was a poignant sight to see, knowing that all these young kids would probably be dead if it weren't for organizations like these.
This day was one of the many reasons I love living here. Yeah, while the whole bike flat was "lo sababa" its those unforeseen events which create the best memories. The volunteering opportunity was everything I had hoped it would be and I expect to be stopping by there every now and then once I get that flat fixed up. The ride back to the dorms wasn't to bad though.
I took a bus.
Notes from the Holy Land is the blog I set up to chronicle my life as an American student studying in the Middle East during the Spring of 2010. Check back often for laughs, curiosities, photos you'll wish you were there for, and hummus. Lots and lots of hummus. Also, check out my more local blog: Notes from the B-Line.
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2 comments:
I hope you get back on the road soon with fully functional tires.
It is good to read that you are loving your experience thus far.
What are you learning in class?
Right now its just 5 hours of Hebrew per day until the 19th. Then I'm taking engineering classes as well as some more Hebrew.
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