Bustan: an orchard overflowing with diverse abundance

I've finally landed a job with a local NGO (this is Sera speaking, Adam doesn't have time to get a job) called Bustan. I am serving as the Development Coordinator for this group focusing on environmental justice in the Negev. I have a great deal to learn as plants aren't really my thing, although my Dad cringes to hear me say it. I am expecting a full list of tips and secrets from all of the green-thumbs in my life as a shared result of this new professional endeavor of mine and your secret knowledge of all things green and growing.

Last week I journeyed with a group of about 30 to a small village called Tel Sheva. Tel Sheva is home to around 22,000 people and is the second poorest community in Israel. Its just about 10 minutes from Be'er Sheba. Bustan is involved with a traditional garden and teaching site there run by a local Bedouin woman. Here are some photos, and I am waiting for suggestions from you farmers, activists, and big thinkers for how to raise some money for projects like this one committed to women's empowerment, greening the Negev desert, and environmental sustainability.

The garden itself is a circle, merging ancient and modern gardening techniques to maximize irrigation and accessibility of the plants.
Here is a dramtic photo of the cracked earth. This is not an uncommon site here in the desert, yet all kinds of beings continue to survive, even thrive. Magic, to be sure.

This is Mariam, a local Bedouin entrepreneur working closely with Bustan. It is Mariam's family farm on which all of this greening is taking place that you are seeing here. She has started a small business marketing organic soaps, teas, oils, and other beauty products. Quite a go-getter! Here she is leading a workshop on soap making to visiting volunteers and other curious seekers who just dropped in for the the day to learn something from this wise lady.

A true professional: sealing deals for her products while working in the garden. An inspiration to women everywhere!
This is how she makes the soap, here it is being poured into a mold. It will be cut, after it hardens, and wrapped, taken to market, and sold. Bringing a soothing sense of joy and aromatic pleasure to its new owner.
No experience is complete for me without tea, and thankfully the Bedouin are as into it as I am. Note the sugar, so so so sweet.

Here are the quarters that the volunteers enjoy while spending time on the farm with Mariam and her family. Volunteers come from around the world to spend time with Bustan working on any number of projects. This is one of them that seems to be very popular with the ladies.

Somehow, there is water. I have not learned the secret yet for how the local inhabitants know how to find it. But I've added that to my list of things to master before I leave this incredible part of the world.

So that was my first trip to the field with Bustan. Please check them out on-line: www.bustan.org. I am hoping that I will be able to help this small, energized organization secure the funding it needs to continue to support local communities, and the women living there. I am taking suggestions, if any of you have ideas, and please, pop over for a visit. You won't be sorry that you did!

As it is clear that I am getting back to my hippie roots, I leave you with this quick video. Take the time to watch this, its worth it. Sending each of you a multitude of hugs from us, until next time...

Springtime renewal in the north

Hello gentle readers,

We took an inspirational day trip to Haifa and up north near Nazareth yesterday to visit with my midwife friends and to see the greenery of spring outside of the Negev. We felt renewal happening all around us: wild flowers, oak tree forests, magnolia trees, jasmine plants, and a birth center. It all smelled and looked so sweet.

Here are some pics of this picturesque city by the sea, Haifa. The gorgeous garden shot is of the Baha'i gardens. Baha'i is the most recent religion to claim its holy sites on this plot of land, nice of them to find a place other than Jerusalem to do so, eh? That place already has too many bidders! The Baha'i have their primary temples and shrines in Haifa, as well as a very impressive Hall of Justice reminding me of saturday morning cartoons, bat caves, and the wonder twins. None of the later to be found on the Baha'i grounds in Haifa, sadly.This night shot is of Haifa and a sliver crescent moon. Don't know if the simple majesty of the evening is visible to you through this photo. All the more reason for you to pop over for a visit.
After a lunch of Chinese food, yes, strange I know, Chinese food, we traveled up to Mindy's place. When we leave Be'er Sheba we try very hard to eat food we can't find here. So yesterday, Chinese it was.

Mindy lives just a stone's throw away from Nazareth in a little village, Bet La hem. Yes, you've most likely heard of a more popular hamlet by that name boasting a famous, or infamous, native son. After a nature hike and history lesson led by Mindy's hubby, Avner, we learned that there are archaeologists in the region who assert that this hilltop is the authentic birth place of one Jesus Christ (can you imagine if there had been more than one?). Considering Ma and Pop Christ could've reached Nazareth from here by donkey in about a half hour it really is quite probable. But, oh my Lord (pun quite intended), that would change everything and we can't go and do something as reckless as that in this day and age. So, a quiet, charming little place this Bet La hem remains.

Here are some pics of my friend Mindy Levy (home birth midwife) and her new birth center. Both gorgeous, as you see here. Home birth midwives here in Israel are still a relatively new option for delivering moms and many work in hosptials, as well. Midwives are the primary folks in charge on brith in any setting in Israel and I am slowly making my rounds, meeting as many of them as I can. I am working closely with Mindy and her Palestinian counterparts to secure some funding to help both groups come together and share their insights gains through their success and struggles supporting women throughout their pregnancies.


Here is a painting given to Mindy for the birth center by one of the fathers whose wife's delivery she atteneded and a new birthing stool crafted for the women who labour with her made from some sweet smelling local variety of wood.

Here is the birthing pool. The room itself is equipped with soothing lighting and private garden outside. The cobalt blue tiles help to inspire a sense of calm clearly helpful for women in staying focused on the task at hand. I really wanted to fill up the tub and get in myself right there and then, but fought the urge. This is the main lobby where Mindy will host trainings, etc. She is getting offers from local pre-natal yoga teachers and such who'd like to use the space, as well. I hope to be able to use this space while I am in Israel over the next few years to host some workshops between the Israeli and Palestinian midwives. See how comfortable Adam seems here, maybe the dream team of an OB/GYN and midwife are not out of the question. Who knows!

Here is the kitchen where families using the facility for deliveries can cook while they are there.

Here is the back patio and garden. Imagine a laboring lady slowly walking through her contractions out here, inspired by the natural landscape to open and let go. The view in the other direction is of an expansive valley, green and lush this time of year.

Here are Mindy and I out front of the center. The center is just down the street from her house, as well. What a set up!

Another great day, to be sure. We have so many of those here. I hope that wherever you are today, perched, reading these words, that spring has sprung and that hope, birth, and warmth are renewing you. Take care!

The Tale of Many Muhamouds

Salaam Alekum! Welcome to the retelling of our adventure to Egypt. The irony that we journeyed TO Egypt during Passover when Jews around the world celebrate our release from slavery in Egypt is not lost on us. We feared that by journey's end we might indeed find ourselves in some kind of slavery in a surreal seaside resort over-run by Russian women seeking love in the arms of Egyptian men...but wait, I am getting ahead of myself. I hope you enjoy the story I am sharing here, The Tale of Many Mahamouds, and I will get to its telling now so as not to squander any more of the good reader's time.

Free to fly, we did almost just that in a matter of speaking giddy with the fact that we were indeed leaving Be'er Sheba. We boarded a local bus with our travel companions, Colin and Mook-lan, in Be'er Sheba heading to the border town of Eliat, Israel. As all of the students in Adam's program were also on holiday, there was not a day we did not run into someone, somewhere, and the bus down to Eliat was our first attempt at distancing ourselves from our friends in the hopes of "blending in" as best as four white kids can do in the middle east. The bus ride being uneventful, we passed the night with seaside sushi, a long walk on the over-developed beach, and slumbered sweetly in our bunk beds in the over-priced hostel.



Jolted from our dreams, there was a knock on the door at....6AM!!! What??? We are on holiday!!! It was a student from Adam's program wanting to know if we cared to join them at this unholy hour to cross the border before the rush of...Jews hurrying back to Egypt for Passover? We were a bit confused about the concern to beat the rush, so we rolled over and went back to sleep. Waking at our leisure we had a nice breakfast, stocked up on nuts and fruit for the long day of bus travel ahead, and got a taxi to the border crossing. The taxi driver, upon learning that we were heading to Egypt, mimicked the negative concern we'd heard voiced by so many of our brethren living in Israel: Egyptians are dirty, they will rip you off, they will harass you to no end, and they don't understand service. These warnings could easily and quite appropriately be said about Israelis, as well. Or any of us, really. But I have to admit that I was weary in the sense that I didn't feel up to fighting off droves off men looking to take advantage of my dollars and body. Luckily, this (in addition to all other fears) were completely unwarranted.

We crossed the border with no trouble at all, even scored a bag of peanut M&Ms. The first of many hilarious haggling dances began as I completely blew our chances of getting a reasonably priced van to Cairo. This was a clear and direct result of my complete inability to add, not my failure to get a good deal. I blame most of this on Arkansas schools. But in this case it was all my bad. Adam was covertly whispering the current sum that I was aiming for but I was too secure in my well honed third-world economic diplomacy to listen too carefully. I was so thrilled to be back in the World of Haggle that I misheard him. This resulted in me easily securing for us a car at 3 times the appropriate price. I then humbly stepped down as the group negotiator and walked away to let the others give it a go.

Eventually transportation was secured and we set off to Cairo. Six hour drive, and this bird was flying. The beauty present during all hours of this trip was apparent immediately as we came up over a hill just minutes from the border crossing and saw this citadel. This was to be the first of many magical, ancient, and delightful inspirations our imaginations would enjoy on this journey. Enter the first Mohamed, driver extraordinaire.

An uneventful, in the sense that all went smoothly, drive to Cairo delivered us to a city full of color, sound, smell, and the artistic. Architecture fusing colonialism and middle-eastern mediums, wide open promenades, majestic gardens smelling of jasmine, modern skyscrapers stretching protectively over mosques grounded in simplicity are all sights common in Cairo. Cleaner than the Asian capitols we've grown used to, we reveled in the safety of tap water one can sample and still live to tell.

We were befriended by the second Mohamed to enter our narrative working as a local artisan at a papyrus factory. We were invited to his brother's wedding the following evening, but due to the scam that he pulled to get us to present our passports in order to purchase 12 bottles of duty-free booze for him we didn't make it to the nonexistent matrimonial soiree. All is well that ends well, a lovely evening stroll led us down the Nile by moonlight that evening to sleep soundly before journeying to the Pyramids and Sphinx the following morning.

Our privilege seeped out of every pore as we awoke bubbling with excitement. It mixed with the unavoidable, copious amounts of perspiration one produces on a day like this. Basking in the 95 degree shadow of the greatness of the Pyramids and Sphinx: the last remaining wonders of the ancient world. These structures are all you've dreamed of, and all the discovery channel told you they would be. First visible while still amidst the hustle and bustle of Cairo proper, one's imagination begins to take over questioning intent of the who, how, and why of these piles of stones.

Globalization is present at every turn: Pizza Hut and KFC, right there a stone's throw from the Sphinx herself; Egyptian tour guides speaking Japanese fluently; and a night-time laser light show playing four times a day in different languages. All of this seems a natural progression, however, once you arrive in lower (which is really upper as the Nile flows north towards the Mediterranean) Egypt and see the blending of Egyptian hieroglyphs, Greecian columns, European longitude and latitude recording the distance from here to there, and the rest of the world's imprint in the temples and ruins. A powerful day passed into another as we considered the impact and longevity of our own civilization. A day not one to be forgotten, to be sure.




The next leg of the journey passed in the belly of a first-class tourist train. A private cabin on the tourist train with 2000 other travellers. Throughout the trip we moved in a modern day caravan, never being anything close to alone. We were told this was for security reasons. Personally I think it was something to do with the innate feeling that all beings (much like camels or sheep) move in packs and should be encouraged to do so. Either way, traveling throughout this trip was mostly comfortable, convenient, and even somewhat efficient. This brings us to Aswan where we were greeted by our tour guide, Mohamed. Here we were to spend two FULL days "templing". I will spare you the dusty details and summarize by saying that to get Adam out of bed at 3AM to travel for four hours by bus to see an old, stone building was easy due to the grandeur of the experience each day. Has to be seen first hand to be understood. Nonetheless, here are some pictures:







Enter our Nile captain, you guessed it: Mahamoud. He guided us for two days of total bliss down (or up, rather) the Nile on a small sail boat. Paradise found. We enjoyed the company of two young women: Christie from Zimbabwe and Alison from South Africa, as we watched Egypt float past us. Mohamed cooked such delicacies each day as falfael, salad, dahl, and a variation of french toast using pita. Simple meals on his camping stove on the boat were some of the best meals we enjoyed the entire trip. Made with love, they were divine. Here is the captain and his crew, a picture of the boat, The Love Boat, and some other visuals from the floating part of our journey:





















Mahmoud delivered us to another Mahmoud (we CURSE his name, but I am getting ahead of myself again) in Luxor. The highlight of this stop was the night-time, laser light show at Karnak temple. Sounds indulgent, tacky, and reeks of Pink Floyd but it was brilliant and I am totally serious. Imagine the setting sun over the Nile, a pink sky fading into dark. You are standing with the smallest amount of tourists yet, only about 100, as you wait for....well, you don't really know what you are waiting for. Then a thundering "CLAP" of symbols announces the beginning of an hour and a half walking tour through this enormous temple city built by Egyptians and Greeks. You are not led by a human guide in the flesh, but rather an epic voice looms over you joined in chorus by softly dramatic light guiding your way. Amazing. Like walking through an episode of something on PBS or the discovery channel. Highly recommended.





Now the Mahamoud who sent us packing from Luxor deserves a special line here cuz we are still a pit pissed at this guy. We are heading from Luxor to a beach side town called Hergada on another tourist bus in yet another caravan to be greeted by another Mahmoud in Hergada who will get us onto a ferry to wiz across the Red Sea the following morning delivering us to Sharm Al'Sheik. HAHAHA, not what happened. It is possible this Mahamoud made some errors as he was clearly smitten with sweet Mook-lan and maybe he overlooked something???? Whatever it was, we ended up on a local bus that broke down in the middle of the desert. Not an issue there, because somehow another bus was there to take us all along. But there were already passengers on that other bus and so three of the four of us had to squeeze onto the way back "seat" which is a liberal description of a piece of plywood. The fourth member of our party had to sit five inches away from an AC vent that wouldn't shut off. Then a movie comes on. All one can tell from the first few moments is that some violent Americans are killing people with dark skin. This presents all of us (although we don't admit this until much later) with the nightmare image that keeps our parents up at night: four Jewish kids on a bus surrounded by Arabs when a film comes on the screen depicting gun-crazed, scantily dressed Americans killing "arab terrorists" for no good reason. But all was saved, it was just an old Jean Claude Van Dame movie entitled, "Universal Soldier". Don't rush out get it folks, let me save you the trouble: it blows.





Anyway, many, many hours later we are dropped off at the bus station in Hell on Earth: Hergata, and yes....you guessed it. No Mahamoud to get us. Luckily, Colin speaks fluent Spanish and befriended a couple from Columbia who were often members of the same tourist caravan as we were. We saw them at the bus station, they guilted their driver into taking us someplace, and off we went to the waiting arms of yet another Mahamoud.

Hergata, skip it. Not much to say except its the first place I've ever seen where middle aged women (Russian, all of them) came to sleep with young Egyptian men. Quite a switch as its usually the other way around, and it was strange to see. Our "take away" from Hergata is that Russia must be pretty rough, and especially short on quality men, to inspire this sort of migration of Russian ladies. Weird.



So here we are, roughly 14 hours from Be'er Sheba, and we are told that the ferry we are here to meet that will cut 10 hours off of our journey home...isn't running! For 16 days!!!!!! Can you hear us Mahamound in Luxor, do you feel the needles of our voodoo doll with your name on it poking holes in your heart??? So, we rent a bus, and start our long journey to Suez and then back to the border. Luckily, not much to say. It want pretty fast, we had lots of fruit and nuts, even scored some cheeze pizza. After leaving Hergata at noon that day we arrived at the Israel border just before midnight.





Wish I could now say we were welcomed in, but as it is with life here, a veil of suspision, pessimism, and negativity descended on us as soon as we reached the Israel desk at customs. I get it, they have their reasons, but we LIVE here. BY CHOICE!. Whatver. The final Mahamound, and I kid you not, was the taxi driver who carried us back to Be'er Sheba to arrvive just after three am.

Wonderful holiday, one of the best we've ever had. Should you be interested in going yourself, give us a call. We can't wait to get back, the wacky Jews that we are. Take care, and we hope you enjoyed the tale of our many Mahomouds.

What we were reading
Adam: Narcissus and Goldman, by Herman Hesse
Sera: Dark Star Safari, from Cairo to Capetown, by Paul Theroux