A Panoply of Faces in One Another's Arms: Act V, Scene ii, by Yoel Nitzarim
[9:00AM on Friday, December 14 in the high-school auditorium. A severe thunderstorm wages outside.]
A seven-by-ten meter mural depicting the last two years in Israel and the Palestinian Authority stands at the back of the state. Especially salient are the faces of the children: all different nuances of expressions and gestures, suggestive of the intense fears and frustrated hopes felt in their hearts. In the foreground, a thirty-person orchestra plays six pieces of the music written by the composers exemplary of the two cultures in addition to their two national anthems, and a chorus sings the words reflecting the times. Afterwards, to the co-sponsors and the principal, each of six students present at this time reads a 400-word statement offering impressions of his or her experiences issuing from the seminar. Ibrahim is conspicuously absent. Then the seminar transforms into a culminating discussion in the seminar room.
Fatima: Uri and I have this wondrous poem written by (clears her voice after it cracks) our friend Ayelet Rothschild, a very courageous young woman (Circulates copies of the poem.)
Yaron: This girl was surely insightful . . . "the spirit values the deed prudent." I never quite thought about it this way. Whenever I do something good and thoughtful for someone, I do have a sense of fulfillment, of accomplishment.
Haggit: What is a "soul of souls"?
Reem: It seems to me it is the base soul for all humanity.
Nili: Perhaps it's Adam Kadmon, the precursor embodiment of humankind. If so, it's the valuable groundwork of all human life.
Uri: Sounds deep.
Mr. Hurvitz: Sounds like some kind of an evaluation to me. Please continue.
Fatima: I was just thinking that maybe it is we, all of us, who share our collective humanity in our past which still dictates to us: who we are today in conjunction with where we'll be heading tomorrow. Was Ayelet sending us a message? Was she sharing a "roadmap for peace" in the value we'd need to share as human beings?
Sayyid Hussein: There was a group who documented numerous impoverished families. Let's hear from them now.
Yaron: This was a most rewarding project for me. I have never felt as much in touch with both the people in the community at large and my own feelings before.
Sayyid Hussein: How so?
Yaron: People shared their problems, hopes, dreams, concerns, aspirations, inspirations--the whole lot of their humanity.
Uri: Furthermore, diversity in Israeli society showed its striking countenance. It was a true gift to people in presenting frames of Israeli life that could be shared, analyzed, explained, and evaluated by us students. The experience afforded us a mirror by which we students could actually see the reflections of our society in terms of its internal and external conflicts.
Mr. Arkadian: Can you be more explicit? What did you learn from these people?
Yaron: I learned that as an Israeli, I am part of a group of people from places I have never heard of, whose languages I will never speak, and who still desire many of the same things I do today and will tomorrow. I want to lead a meaningful life here in Israel; for example: I want to have a family. I want my children to be able to look forward to a peaceful future. Our documentary reminded me that the poor in Jerusalem are similar to the diverse sounds I hear in a symphony. Each person adds a new bar to the musical score. Measure for measure, the musical piece presents a vibrant fugue illustrating the lives of its constituency; albeit the poor present their sounds in a minor key. Somehow I want my life to harmonize with theirs.
Uri: For me, there was an unbelievable eye-opener! I learned that Jews and Arabs can live together if they work at it. People are, at times, desperate here in Israel. This desperation does not have to be a negative quality. It can be harnessed into a positive, even affirmative driving power, like when you out the gears in low descending down the road from Jerusalem to Jericho. Every meter descended is one step closer to the final destination, the lowest point on earth, the Dead Sea. If you keep the car in drive without lowering the gears, you may lose control and collide with another vehicle. Contrariwise, if you keep the car under your control, you will be able to enjoy the exotic, historical, moving experience of visiting perhaps the oldest city in the world along the way. Jakob taught me that desperation can be a harnessed element in my life. His despair never controlled his respect for his customer; it never dictated any behavior on his part less than what one may compass as civil and courteous. Even in despair he demonstrated derekh eretz, good manner.
Mr. Arkadian: Let's watch your documentary. Then I would like to hear a student's question posed on the topic.
Reem: Before we watch it, I have a question. (Faces Yaron.) Why did you choose to compare your experience documenting poor families with people sounding like instruments in an orchestra?
Yaron: Shalom Sesame has this incredible musical arrangement in which people sing various notes and make sounds like musical instruments. Throughout our filming, it seems to me, that our group was reminded of the notion that we as human beings make music when we live. Our lives become veritable symphonies, as it were. Our dreams, for instance, can reach a crescendo of glorious, almost giddy proportions as in Grieg's "The Mountain King," the conclusion to Peer Gynt. As I listen to that movement moving from andante to presto, I gradually feel an uneasiness as if my whole person were losing control; but then I remember that a great, talented composer wanted his music to rise to that occasion: it was his gifted hand that created that unrestrained ecstasy depicted in those musical notes. As a listener, my imagination might descend to a Dionysian frenzy, or it could attach itself to reason to appreciate this extreme unrestrained feeling Grieg created in the musical score. The poor, as the rest of society, also live lives reflecting moments of ennui together with unbridled feelings of despair, loneliness, abandonment . . . and every emotion in between, including hope.
Sayyid Hussein: Creative--that's for sure. I am impressed with your imaginative powers, Yaron. Yet where is the practicality?
Uri (Disturbed.): Practicality, hmm. In he variety of responses as witnessed in the lives we documented. All sincere in my estimation. The people spoke from their hearts and their minds.
Sayyid Hussein: And nothing was omitted?
Yaron (Eyes closed, silent for a moment.): Sure. We're strangers to them . . . and kids. They were facing the camera, although I've heard that people can become used to the camera rather quickly.
Sayyid Hussein: (Repeats himself peevishly.): I mean, Nothing was omitted?
Uri: We're students. Tell us, what did we omit?
Sayyid Hussein: A fair picture of the Palestinian Muslims and Christians.
Uri: I thought they were Israeli Muslims and Christians. After all, we were filming in Jerusalem, the capital of Israel.
Sayyid Hussein: That is the very point. For me and most people livingin East Jerusalem, all of Jerusalem is not Israeli. What about the people living south of Jerusalem proper before you arrive to Bethlehem? What's their status?
Yaron: Please, sir, let's not get into the politics of the situation. You know that we're in the middle of a very dangerous, violent set of circumstances. Uri and I were concerned about traveling out of West Jerusalem to tell you the truth. Our parents were extremely anxious for our safety.
Mr. Arkadian: Frequently what is not said should be left unsaid. I agree with the young men in this case--let's keep the discussion educational. No one needs to be out on the defensive. After all, the students are searching for solutions and resolutions to living in peace.
Fatima: What kind of peace is there when people's rights aren't respected? Where's the equity in the documentary?
Uri: We tried to provide a balance among the great diversity of communities living in the metropolitan area. We tried. . . .
Fatim (Sarcastically.): You tied. Forgetting about 20% of the population is not balanced. What about the Arab population living sis by side with the Jews? Why wasn't that side of the picture revealed?
Yaron: We did interview families and couples in more than one neighborhood, such as Abu Tor. Unfortunately, those interviews were not of the caliber as the ones in A-Tur and the Old City.
Fatima: Again, where's the equi. . . . ?
Mr. Arkadian: Criticism is a very important criterion in determining whether a documentary is valid. Please, though, let's not get personal. Let's try to be as objective as . . . .
Reem: I'm sorry, sir. That's impossible. We're talking about our lives here. About our families. And children. What future do we have if the picture is not all inclusive?
Nili: Of course. It must be inclusive. There should not be any "victims"!
Mr. Hurvitz: Anyone and everyone. Look at the business situation in Jerusalem. How many small businesses have closed down? How many families have left the city? Why are so few people visiting here?
Sayyid Hussein: These questions are too abstract and vague. Why? Because there are so many variables involved in this complex, complicated city.
Uri: So, what are you telling us? Did we fail our project?
Mr. Arkadian: That has yet to be determined. Sayyid Hussein, Mr. Hurvitz, and I will make the determination after we deliberate next week. First, we want to listen to all of the presentations.
[Two heated conversations are simultaneously being carried on: one between Fatima and Uri; the second, between Haggit and Reem.]
Fatima (Disgusted and hurt): So now you tanswerhink you can just dismiss my opinion because I'm Palestinian.
Uri: I never said that. I said that there is more than one side to the issue.
Fatima: What's the issue? Really, where has this discussion taken us?
Uri (Voice modulating.): The issue is the recognition of the State of Israel as a viable entity. The issue is the treatment of an Israeli Jew as a human being. The issue is also the treatment of a Palestinian Muslim or Christian or an Israeli Muslim or Christian as a human being. We, all of us, are human beings. We, all of us, deserve to be treated as human beings. We, all of us, have been created in G-d's image. This, we, all of us, should put to rest the enmity which we harbor for one another.
Fatima (Uncertain): That simple?
Uri: That simple. How can we ever make peace if we don't listen to and respect one another?
Reem (Vociferous.): What, you have the final answer?
Uri (Quietly, almost apologetic.): I never ever intimated that. I don't have the answer. I merely stated that there are lessons to be learned from the Holocaust that so many of us have not learned.
Reem (Still loud and bitter): OK. If there was a Holocaust . . . !
Haggit (Impatient and loud.): Wait a minute! If there was a Holocaust? How can you say that?
Reem (A wry smile on her lips and a twinkle in her right eye.): Where's the proof?
Haggit (Barely able to contain herself.): The proof . . . come to my house and look at my grandparents' forearms. See the numbers the Nazis tattooed on them. Listen to their stories.
Mr. Hurvitz: Read the history books. It's that available to anyone who cares to know. Visit Yad Vashem.
Reem: Which history books? Yours or ours?
Haggit (Eyes blazing, stands up facing Reem.): And Har-HaBayit.
Reem (Eyes blazing, stands up facing Haggit.): And Haram al-Sharif, al-Aqsa Mosque.
Sayyid Hussein (Thumps the table and stands.) Enough already. We're not going to settle anything here, especially in the heat of the moment.
Note: This play was written fourteen years ago, in 2003.