Walking ON water

Descending to The Dead Sea

Khitam, floating ON The Dead Sea

   The Dead Sea is slightly more than 1,300 feet below sea level.  When you get into it, you float ON it, not swim in it.  You float on your back; if you turn on your stomach and any water splashes in your eyes, they burn and you have to hurry, which is difficult, to the shore to rinse your eyes out.  So you float on your back.

   The water feels thick.  It is not cold, but at this time of year, not hot either; it's tepid.  On a Friday, the Muslim holy day, there are many Palestinian men here.  I came with my friend Khitam and her friend Maysa.  There were three older women in swimsuits, two of whom were visitors from Europe, and one young Palestinian woman who floated in her clothes, including her head scarf.  For Palestinian women who follow the traditions of "modest dress," this is their bathing costume of choice.  She was with her husband who wore a bathing suit and floated around with her until she decided to get out and sit in the sun.

Good mud

   Several men and two of the women at some point covered themselves in the greenish mud which is good for the skin and maybe more.  Khitam, too, did this, and I said I'd do it next time I came.  Some men brought narghiles, water pipes, to smoke on the beach.  Playtime for the boys!

   There was lots of white skin and bellies, mostly, if not exclusively, on people who are not Palestinian.  Around The Dead Sea there is an Israeli area, a Palestinian area and a Jordanian area. We were in the Israeli area because it was closest to where we came from and the area that Khitam and Mayla knew.  Because it was Friday, we heard more Arabic than Hebrew.

   I heard a very funny story, prompted by the life guard's whistle and his voice over a bull horn telling some men to come back who had floated way out; it's a huge lake.  One day, a man fell asleep while floating near this beach.  He began to float further and further out, and the life guard called to him to return, then assumed that he'd heard and turned his attention elsewhere.  The man didn't wake up until he was close to the Jordanian side of the lake.  He was returned without a problem, except that he may have had trouble sleeping that night.

Notice the young Muslim woman with her husband

   Last night, we went to Ramallah to see a new play at Astar Theatre, a play they had developed with a director from England.  48 MINUTES FOR PALESTINE is the title in English.  1948 is the year Israel was established after a war between future Israelis and the Arabs.  

   The play was acted without words.  There was original music, composed by a Palestinian musician.  One of the two actors, Edward Muallem, is one of the founders of Astar Theatre; the other is Iman Aoun, his wife and the theater's artistic director.

   The play worked!  I was impressed with the concept, the acting, the staging, everything.  When it was over, Khitam looked at her watch: 48 minutes!  The play told its story in movement, use of simple props, facial expression, sound and light.  Its plot is simple: a woman has a small living space, an older man arrives with a suitcase, the woman offers him water, and then he begins to set up his living in her space.  Eventually, it becomes his space and she is outside it, with the suitcase.  Simple plot, powerful story.  Afterwards, Khitam and I went out for a glass of wine with Edward and Inam and a Palestinian actress returning from Zurich to perform in a theater festival in Amman, Jordan.  She and Riham Isaac, the actress in 48 MINUTES both trained at Astar, among other places.  The conversation about the play, about Palestine and about Auguste Boal's Theatre of the Oppressed could have gone on all night.  I'd love to figure out a way to bring the play and some workshops to Maine and New England.  Ah, moneymoneymoney!

   I'm going to stop now and pick up again tomorrow.  Off to Jerusalem to see an old friend.

The Dead Sea, looking across to Jordan