left the kibbutz, time two hours and it seems to be on the `other side of the world within a 'village' in Arabic (12 000 inhabitants), through a dreary suburb, where the figs' india, which run as guardrail along the main road leading to the city, for years intercept and retain their thorns between the `garbage thrown from moving cars: cans, bottles, cans, plastic bags ... and anything that might give the idea of \u200b\u200bdirt. Goal:
truck idle speed `, the Arabs, their wrecked car, they seem more constantly busy playing the horn for no reason than to keep your hands on the steering wheel and foot on the brake. A truck driver makes me a yell from the window, two boys at risk of crashing with the wheels on the concrete sidewalk just to give me a slap groped for his hat. The next time I restart
doll racist, I swear ...
There `s next for luck. Just drop
the highway on the outskirts of hell to enter the village on climate change: children stop playing soccer among trees and dirt and I came up smiling face that they want a picture. I still
versed between low houses, very poor, and across a busy up and down hills, people look at me with curiosity and I cairico: `` Salaam alaykum!
`` To hear the Arabic greeting these Arabs are illuminated, and I Alayukum respond `` as `` `salaam to 32 teeth with a smile. Then I play the `ace `` Italian!
`` `` Oh, Italian! Welcome! Welcome Italy! Fuck you America! Fuck you USA! Fuck you Israel! Free Palestine! Welcome!
`` What do you want the answer, to this great family, women, children, old men ... I finally look happy and comfortable with air?
`` Yes, fuck you America! "Free Palestine!
`` You do not want to start a lecture on the history of Arab-Israeli conflict and enlighten them on the mutual responsibilities? Are the first people who show themselves kind and hospitable to me today, but will have to give him a genuine fuck you America, no?!
From now on everyone I meet gives me to say, I want to help at all costs, I want to accompany by car or scooter to my destination ( cristina a school where I should ask for hospitality for the night), they want to be photographed, photographing myself thinking that I please.
are now in the center of this modern city, rather ugly, all concrete. But I must say that with this range humankind, loud, smiling and shouting, `the appearance of the city disappears and becomes an all stay inside, in an engaging way.
A lot of kids are riding on horses, ponies, donkeys, taken without a saddle. I
dozens of photos, each two meters I stop to talk to someone of any age.
Ok, will not arrive at school is never at this rate, I tell myself. Indeed, if is also why I lost!
Without a man who is equal to Mastroianni. E attack: `` `Peace be with you. `` I am Italian Italian ...!``
!?!``
Mastroianni starts talking and does not stop for 2 minutes: it is called Mohammed, an attorney, has stuido law in Cagliari, Italy has been living in seven years, the likes of Italy (and speaks perfect Italian) is a non-practicing Muslim, is 48 years old, a wife, five daughters, a lot of brothers and cousins \u200b\u200b...
short, after 5 minutes I am in the studio studio, he is chuiamando wife and friends to organize my hospitality in his house and a worthy evening at `Arab. Dinner? Based Costarelle and pork skewers. Yes, yes, pork.
Mohammed and his friends are all communists, convinced lay people consider Israel and the country would never change, they want to change things politically, from the inside. Some of them write in the newspaper of the Communist Party of Israel, have a cultural association for the exchange between cultures ... I could write a book about Mohammed, his wonderful family and amazing friends! Home
treat me like a prince. Afnan, his wife, is a practicing Muslim, the five daughters, ages 4 to 15 years, they are all together the 'eighth wonder of the world: the beauty, sweetness, the' intelligence and curiosity of the gaze ...
Mohammed tells all of our incredible meeting and meanwhile it makes me more questions after we met Oretta `I know all about him, he knows everything about me, it seems to me that we've known for months.
Street, after the shower is again: I go to eat and Mohammed Orsan. So that this is an incredible character, you have to believe me. Does the caretaker at a sawmill of peripherals: everywhere piles of wood, metal, machinery, covering an area huge.
Among some of these sheets, blankets towels, veils, leaning materials, in an incredible guiazzabuglio, c `is` his `home. It is them is that we put on a barbecue and the pork is already ready.
Orsan also worked in Italy. Indeed lived there 27 years, it is done within the family (and now lives in half between here and `them), and redid the valves of the hotels in Italy half. Part
the pro-Italian revival of their youth: Lyrics Battisti, De Andre ', Dalla, De Gregori, Tot, Troisi, Peppino di Capri, Celentano ... The `` ``... inns
eat, sing, laugh, smoke. Let's talk a little bit of politics. I slowly realize that this is the `perfect match for my trip. All the questions I wanted to put an Arab and Palestinian people within a month to understand their point of view and the real conditions of their lives, I can get them out now.
Let's talk about Israeli politics, Palestinian, Arab, American, Italian.
two of them are highly trained, they know everything about the history of UN resolutions, international law ...
I would tell everything, but we really want a book for all the information I collected. Some things already well known, others quite unexpected and shocking. But
we want to weigh down the evening. We eat, sing, drink beer, smoke, say bullshit. There will be time to talk about serious things. When
Orsan declares its serious intention to pull out of the fridge `s lamb, Mohammed and I run away or risk not getting up from the table more.
And then, the evening seems eseere over. Get in the car, and down, degassed for lanes of the city.
There's a building with a spiazzetto front, and a hundred people sitting on chairs placed along the perimeter.
`` This is the house of my cuigino. His son married a few days. Here, before a wedding party `s all ten previous days.
`` And then go with the party, go with the coffee, go with other food (`` Mohammed, I do not like most, really! ``, `` Yes, but that's not why you should eat, eat ... to eat `` ` `Ah, ok ``)
I submit all. `` He's my cousin, has a long beard, you see, he is religious. His family is from Gaza. I do not understand ... but I respect it, sure
`` `` This is my brother, this is my cousin, this is another brother, this is my nephew, this is his brother, this is what goes, this is my cuigino ...
`` `` And the women? There are?
`` `` But some are of the `other guys.
`` Here is this` cos loud music, with the addition of live drums, I think, schimazzi, and rumors of frantic dance that comes from a room inside the building.
enough, you go home. Tomorrow morning we leave early.
party, Mohammed convinced me to change my plans: he must go to Jerusalem with his friend and fellow lawyer. My intention was to make a detour to reach the holy city, but how can I lose the chance of a car trip of 4 hours when I can ask any question imaginable about Palestine, Israel, coexistence, conflict, reviews , prospects, etc., two educated, informed, committed, available, Arab? I am also here for that, I want to know everything.
At home ... is not over yet. The 6 `women`
home waiting for us awake. Girls are in fibrillation. They want to know everything about me.
We sit in front of the entrance of the house, on the steps overlooking a small garden with fruit trees ...
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