Humanity and a home

by Annyssia Gonsalves (New Zealand)

I didn't expect to find Palestine

“You’re going WHERE?” “And by yourself? That’s...bold.” Years ago, I decided on a whim that I would leave, with no return ticket to Palestine and Jordan, travelling the area and surrounding countries. To put this into perspective, I am the type of person who travels to conventional locations. Western Europe? Yes! USA? Of course! Parts of the Middle East constantly publicised by the media as being unsafe and fueled by conflict? Definitely not. However, as the saying goes, the best experiences are unexpected. Such was the case when I travelled to Bethlehem. Unlike the masses of tourists in Jerusalem, I was alone. No tour guide, no group for comfort, and definitely no pre-organised transportation. I took the public bus to Bethlehem. For a city so small, there are a plethora of sights to see. In awe of the artwork on the Separation Wall, the grandeur of the churches and the reverberating sound of the call to prayer, time escaped me. Before I knew it, the sun had set and left the city of Bethlehem, along with my last bus of the day. Fear stems from the unknown. With no internet or phone coverage and hardly any money left, I did not know how I was going to get home, where I was going to stay, or more importantly, how I was even going to communicate this to anyone when I did not speak the language. I was beyond afraid, and fear has the tendency to bring back all of our limited thinking. Everything anyone had ever told me about not travelling to the Middle East came surging back to my mind. However, before I let those thoughts consume me, I decided to walk towards the town centre again in search of solace. As I sat in the main town square, I stared blankly at my phone, expecting it to ring or some sort of help to appear on it. Nothing happened. My eyes watered and my vision blurred. Why didn’t I keep a closer eye on the time? Why did I even come here? Just as my thinking got darker and more despair-ridden, a lady and her teenage daughter approached me. In Arabic, she muttered a question which I did not understand. Hoping she would leave me alone to continue wallowing in my own misery, I looked up with eyes now red, and simply smiled. Thankfully, these two women sensed something was wrong. Her daughter, speaking in English asked me if I was okay and a surge of emotions hit me all at once. I broke down into tears in front of two complete strangers and amongst sobs explained my situation. Without hesitation, her daughter, Ayah, said that there is a place for me in their home. I can stay for the night and can return back to Jerusalem on the bus the next morning. Grateful, I followed them home. Their family welcomed me as if I were their own and provided me with the most extravagant meal I had eaten during that entire trip. That evening, as I helped clean up after dinner, Sarah, Ayah’s mother, said something in Arabic, which roughly translated to “do not fear for you are always protected. Home exists in many places”. I smiled and thanked them both for their kindness. The next morning, they walked with me to the bus stop where I took my transport back into Jerusalem. Fear corrupts our thinking and the horror stories we’ve been told find a way to insidiously creep into our minds, clouding our judgement. Stories can be powerful. The content we absorb on a daily basis deeply imprints on the way we think and the way we react to other people - whether positively or negatively. We seem to have everything we could possibly need in this modern world - yet so often we forget to think for ourselves. We forget to search for what we’re actually looking for and we shut our minds to the possibility of finding something beautiful but unexpected. While I didn't expect to find myself homeless in Bethlehem, I also definitely didn’t expect to find humanity and a home in Ayah and Sarah. I guess the best experiences really are unexpected.