Israel vs. Hezbollah in Berlin

One aspect of my stay in Berlin that I haven’t written about yet is all the Arab immigrants I’ve met.  My first real acquaintance in Berlin was a Palestinian student at the Free University who works at a local falafel restaurant.  Later I met a young Palestinian guy on the bus who tested my Arabic by having me read verses from the Koran stored on his cell phone.  At one of the outdoor World Cup events a Syrian man complained about the growing injustice he saw all over the world, and at the Street Football Festival another Palestinian falafel seller lectured me on the Arab-Israeli conflict, racism in the U.S., and the life expectancy of the American empire.  (He also gave me a homework assignment, which was to tell Americans that Palestinians want to live in freedom and peace.  Check.)

All of this was before the Israel-Hezbollah fighting began.  Because that conflict is so often on my mind, the encounters I had yesterday with a couple Arab guys struck me as pretty interesting.

Help me, I have a…um…brother in Lebanon

I was walking to an interview along a busy street when I saw a guy outside a shop raising his hand as if to get my attention.  I didn’t recognize him, but as I passed by I saw him smiling like he was sure we had met.

So I stopped and shook his hand.  Then came whiskery kisses on each cheek, along with assurances that, yes, he was Marai, the Arab taxi driver I had met the day before.  I knew he wasn’t, but in the back of my mind I was thinking maybe I had met him at some point during the last two months.

I asked him where he was from and when he said Lebanon, I spoke a few Arabic words along the lines of “it’s shameful” and so on.

“Yeah,” he said, “Israel bombing…and I have a brother there.  Can you help me?”

I hesitated a bit.  “Uh, what can I do?”

“Two euros,” he answered.

Oh.  Right.

I told him I was sorry, but I couldn’t help him out.  He quickly followed up by asking if I had any spare change at all, and with that I was sure about what was going on.  I just said “Sorry” and walked away.

A few minutes later I was sitting in the teahouse of a DITIB mosque telling the imam what had happened.  He asked me if the guy was sort of fat and going bald and standing just down the street.  I said yes to all three, and the imam explained that he always stands there trying to make contact with anyone who’ll look his way.  When he reels someone in and manages to get some money, he heads off to the betting hall to gamble.

He’s definitely not the first person trying to profit from a war, just the first one I’ve met face to face.  Kinda left a bad taste in my mouth.

We have a lot of rockets and Israel will pay a big price

A few bus stops from my apartment there’s a Lebanese restaurant that serves the best falafel sandwiches I’ve ever had (secret ingredient: mint).

Lately just one guy has been working there when I visit.  When I ask about his family he says they live in northern Lebanon and are currently safe.  He gives no sign of being worried, and instead speaks very earnestly about the damage Hezbollah is going to inflict on Israel.

“Not only do we have a lot of rockets, but we still have two of their soldiers,” he told me last week, with a touch of bravado.

Last night he was much more solemn.

“I promise you that Israel is going to pay a big price for what it has done.  They’ll be punished and not forget it for a long time.  Just wait and see.”

I haven’t asked him directly if he supports Hezbollah, but now that much of Lebanon has been attacked and civilians are suffering across the board, that may matter less and less (although a BBC article on religious minorities in Lebanon suggests something else).  Isn’t it possible, as Nicholas Kristof argues in the NY Times, that Israel is actually shooting itself in the foot?