Hope
I left my camera on the bus.
I'll give you a moment to fully appreciate the sentence above. Please take into account that I am in the Middle East and in the country of immigrants from all over the world.
OK, moment's over. As you're getting over the shock, let me hit you up with something even more shocking:
It was returned to me the next day.
My five hundred dollar camera wasn't pocketed by some dishonest crook that I was warned about before moving here, but was dutifully handed to the bus driver and later on to the Egged lost and found.
I made a mistake and ran out of the bus leaving my beloved camera on the seat next to me. When I realized it half an hour later I couldn't believe how stupid and careless my mistake was. I started calling Egged (bus company) and getting passed from one place to another along the chain. Finally, I was given the number of the depot for the line I was on and told to call at the end of the day. Meanwhile, everybody was telling me to say goodbye to the camera because in this country it would never get returned. Especially, in this city. It's either taken by an Arab, a Russian or an Israeli, I was told. Neither of those options looked promising and I was beginning to realize how grave my situation was. When I called the depot in the evening, I was crushed to find out that nothing was found. However, it was suggested to attempt again in the morning.
That night I couldn't sleep. The hope was painfully leaving me with every passing minute. I recalled how I was warned by relatives and friends about theft in Israel. All the advice about guarding valuables ignored. I also remembered how much I enjoyed this camera. It was the reason why I fell in love with photography in the first place and it let me fool casual observers into thinking that I know how to use it well. During that night, I even came up with a blog entry in memoriam of "a dear friend lost".
When morning came, I couldn't stop checking the clock waiting for it to strike 8. At that time precisely I called. However, I was greeted by a signal unanswered by anyone. I called back at 8:05. And 8:10. At 8:15 a sleepy voice told me that something was turned in to them and that I can stop by before 3pm. The time never moved this slowly as I was in my psychometry prep course class. At 1pm I jolted out the door probably knocking down startled American girls along the way. It was justified since I made it to the bus going in the needed to me direction. At 1:30 I was excitingly describing the camera and the bag in every detail and jumping for joy as a laughing Egged employee was pulling it out of the cabinet. Surely, I was made fun of and asked how could I possibly leave something like that on the bus but I didn't care. This entire experience was typically Israeli in that I was never treated with courtesy, had my hopes crashed repeatedly and yet, in the end, everything was well, stereotypes broken and goodness of people proven.
The day of the loss also gave me another example that lent to the title. A while ago I signed up for participation in a program called "Life Story". I had no idea what it was about except that after five weeks of participation I'd get an eight hundred shekel stipend. Considering that I am an unemployed college student, it was enough for me to try and convince the coordinator to select me as a participant. I had a strong case since there aren't many Ukrainian immigrants from USA in TAKA at the moment. Therefore, I was mildly happy about being notified that I'll need to donate just two hours of my time every other week. I'm saying "mildly" because at the time I had no idea what I signed up for.
As it turned out, the program is an attempt to bring together new immigrants and Jewish and Arab student of the Hadassah College. In my first session I got to meet five young people from different backgrounds in addition to four other TAKA students. Three of them are Arab girls from Nazareth, Old City and Abu Gosh. I'm probably going to call up one of them because she's a photography major and seemed happy to offer suggestions.
The creator for the program is a woman who was among the group that initiated Oslo accords. She stopped by for a few minutes. It seems like a wonderful idea and is another example of attempts to create a society that will know how to live in peace. I will write more about it as the time goes by but for now I can say that Hope lives on in this country.
I'll give you a moment to fully appreciate the sentence above. Please take into account that I am in the Middle East and in the country of immigrants from all over the world.
OK, moment's over. As you're getting over the shock, let me hit you up with something even more shocking:
It was returned to me the next day.
My five hundred dollar camera wasn't pocketed by some dishonest crook that I was warned about before moving here, but was dutifully handed to the bus driver and later on to the Egged lost and found.
I made a mistake and ran out of the bus leaving my beloved camera on the seat next to me. When I realized it half an hour later I couldn't believe how stupid and careless my mistake was. I started calling Egged (bus company) and getting passed from one place to another along the chain. Finally, I was given the number of the depot for the line I was on and told to call at the end of the day. Meanwhile, everybody was telling me to say goodbye to the camera because in this country it would never get returned. Especially, in this city. It's either taken by an Arab, a Russian or an Israeli, I was told. Neither of those options looked promising and I was beginning to realize how grave my situation was. When I called the depot in the evening, I was crushed to find out that nothing was found. However, it was suggested to attempt again in the morning.
That night I couldn't sleep. The hope was painfully leaving me with every passing minute. I recalled how I was warned by relatives and friends about theft in Israel. All the advice about guarding valuables ignored. I also remembered how much I enjoyed this camera. It was the reason why I fell in love with photography in the first place and it let me fool casual observers into thinking that I know how to use it well. During that night, I even came up with a blog entry in memoriam of "a dear friend lost".
When morning came, I couldn't stop checking the clock waiting for it to strike 8. At that time precisely I called. However, I was greeted by a signal unanswered by anyone. I called back at 8:05. And 8:10. At 8:15 a sleepy voice told me that something was turned in to them and that I can stop by before 3pm. The time never moved this slowly as I was in my psychometry prep course class. At 1pm I jolted out the door probably knocking down startled American girls along the way. It was justified since I made it to the bus going in the needed to me direction. At 1:30 I was excitingly describing the camera and the bag in every detail and jumping for joy as a laughing Egged employee was pulling it out of the cabinet. Surely, I was made fun of and asked how could I possibly leave something like that on the bus but I didn't care. This entire experience was typically Israeli in that I was never treated with courtesy, had my hopes crashed repeatedly and yet, in the end, everything was well, stereotypes broken and goodness of people proven.
The day of the loss also gave me another example that lent to the title. A while ago I signed up for participation in a program called "Life Story". I had no idea what it was about except that after five weeks of participation I'd get an eight hundred shekel stipend. Considering that I am an unemployed college student, it was enough for me to try and convince the coordinator to select me as a participant. I had a strong case since there aren't many Ukrainian immigrants from USA in TAKA at the moment. Therefore, I was mildly happy about being notified that I'll need to donate just two hours of my time every other week. I'm saying "mildly" because at the time I had no idea what I signed up for.
As it turned out, the program is an attempt to bring together new immigrants and Jewish and Arab student of the Hadassah College. In my first session I got to meet five young people from different backgrounds in addition to four other TAKA students. Three of them are Arab girls from Nazareth, Old City and Abu Gosh. I'm probably going to call up one of them because she's a photography major and seemed happy to offer suggestions.
The creator for the program is a woman who was among the group that initiated Oslo accords. She stopped by for a few minutes. It seems like a wonderful idea and is another example of attempts to create a society that will know how to live in peace. I will write more about it as the time goes by but for now I can say that Hope lives on in this country.
posted by Mark at
4:30 PM
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