The Happiness of an Accepted Fate

by Adela Navarro (Spain)

I didn't expect to find Palestine

I had studied the conflict for months before my arrival. I wanted to be able to understand the roots of it, the real motives that explained why two nations are still fighting a war that began decades ago. The data showed too many deaths and too many refugees who had been forced to leave their country. I did not know what I would find, but I knew I wanted to discover it by myself. The Israeli-Palestinian conflict was a forgotten reality, trivial for powerful people, but determining in the lives of thousands of Palestinians who lost the place they once considered their home. I landed in Tel Aviv on Friday. I thought accessing the country would be an odyssey, but it was not that difficult. Their security measures were obvious, but I did not find them unconventional. I was going to spend a week there. I would stay in Jerusalem, but I was certain that I wanted to discover the two realities: the Israeli’s and the Palestinian’s. Israel seemed to be a normal country. Tel Aviv smelt like freedom, rush and laughter. The Sacred City of Jerusalem welcomed people from all over the world who prayed in every language facing the Wailing Wall, where they left their most hidden secrets and wishes written on a small piece of paper that they placed among the rocks of the Wall. The Dead Sea made thousands of people float in its water each day and the sacred water of the Jordan River served as the baptismal font for Christians who wanted to be baptized in the same place as Jesus Christ was. I was lucky to try the best hummus ever, to smell the most colorful spices and to visit the most sacred places on Earth. And Wednesday came, the day when I would finally cross the famous barrier wall to enter into the Palestinian Territories, into the West Bank. Before my trip, people had advised me to take care in such a fragile region. But I was not scared. I knew Palestinians had fought against Israelis and I knew they had lost. However, in a war, both parties are losers grieving for their loved ones. A feeling of curiosity and fairness governed my body, I had no place for fear. I was willing to discover the reality of those who struggle to survive in their everyday life. We were heading the Aida Refugee Camp. As soon as I stepped out of the bus, I ran out of words. I stared at an enormous wall painted with war images, where I read: GERNIKA 1936 – PALESTINA 1948 WE CAN’T LIVE The refugee camp was not what I had imagined. It was a tiny and extremely poor village. The houses showed bricks and concrete, and some of them were ruined. I saw rubbish on the streets and some abandoned broken cars. I saw clothes drying hanging out the windows. The streets were painted with speechless graffiti, in one of them I could read in Arabic the names of the 258 children who were killed in a massacre in 2014. The guide stopped and started explaining the history of the camp. The smell of falafel reached my nose and, when I looked to my right, I found a smiling man offering us falafel. He had seen us, and he had decided to cook for us so we could try their local cuisine. He might have not known, but his gesture was much more than just food. He taught me what generosity really means. He had not only gifted us with the little food he probably had, but also and mainly, he had gifted us with his sincere smile. The smile of the falafel man was bigger than his house. His generosity and goodness were bigger than the entire refugee camp. Suddenly, I heard the laugh of children playing down the street. A tear fell down my cheek. How could they accept their fate? How could they be happy when their lives were so hard? How could I ever forget the smile of the falafel man who taught me so much about life in just one second?