I am walking up the hill from the Shenandoah Garage at George Mason University trying to find South Plaza at the Johnson Center. I have to go inside the building to access the secluded outside venue. Pleased with myself for finding the location after only three sets of directions, I open the heavy door and … What is this? A dress rehearsal for a play? Male students are wearing long white robes and head scarfs secured by black cords around the crown of the head. Later, I learn the cords are called agal and made of camel or goat hair. Women are in hijabs covering their hair and wearing long dresses. Why am I so surprised? It is a festival for Arab American heritage month, and I was looking for a break from the daily bomb and body counts.
Feeling more Jewish than usual and a bit underdressed in shorts and a t-shirt (though nobody says anything), I turn to the vendors’ tables. Behind the first one is a young woman whose wares include jewelry and key chains with bright red metal strawberries. “Why all the strawberries?” I ask.
“Well, you see, Gaza gets bombed a lot, so they had to develop a very hardy variety,” While I am browsing, her friend approaches and asks where she is going for summer vacation. “Jenin.” Do I hear correctly? This city is the home of the refugee camp just eradicated by the Israeli military. I am about to intrude to tell her not to go when I realize that’s where her family lives. I choose beautiful green, white and purple pendant earrings, signifying Gazan grapes, and she gives me a $2.00 discount.
I go to a table with two outgoing Muslim women. They have some dessert for sale but the ingredients are in Arabic and I don’t know if it must be kept cold.
“So, here’s the thing,” I tell them, “I’m going away so I can’t attend my granddaughter’s college graduation. I have to buy them something for the party so delicious they will forget to be mad at me for not coming.”
“Oh,” one asks, “Where are you going?”
Not expecting this question, I swallow hard, glance around to see how many are within earshot, say a quick prayer, and deliver the pitch. “I’m going to Israel.” Without eye contact I describe in one breath Combatants for Peace, a group made up of former members of the Israeli army and Hamas that meet together because they all want a nonviolent end to the Occupation of Palestine. Breathe. Now they are talking to me so I have to look up.
“What? Say that again.” I do.
“What are you talking about? We never heard of such a thing. That is not possible. Israelis and Arabs that used to be soldiers meeting together?”
“Hey, just Google it. Combatants for Peace.”
One starts rapidly thumb typing on her phone, and the other says, “Yes, it has to be refrigerated.”
I score the magic gift at the third table. A young woman tells me DMV Chocolates is a family business run by her mother. The ingredients are from Morocco but they are assembled here. These dark rich Medjool dates are sprinkled with ground sandy brown nut crumbs and stuffed with chocolate and pistachios. I buy three boxes of 15 each, thanking her repeatedly for saving me.
Hungry, I see a table with warm food in aluminum boxes with transparent plastic tops. “What is in this?” I ask.
“Beef and chicken and not sure what else.”
“How much?”
“No charge.”
I set aside the dark meat and eat the rest. A bit spicey for my tender palate, but the rice has a delicious buttery flavor. I eat every kernel.
Purchases in hand, I head back to the Shenandoah Garage quickly running into a group of students who I think am Middle Eastern.
“Hey, if you go back there, you can get free food,” I tell them.
“Really? Free food?”
“Yes, and it’s very good.”
“Let’s go for it!”
One student pauses and points at my chest. “I like your t-shirt.” Oh, my t-shirt. I forgot what I was wearing. It says, “Virginia is for Palestine.” I guess I was not underdressed after all.
Paley was an English professor and a Financial Advisor. A member of the GLBTQ community, she is now a second-year student in the Nonfiction MFA program at Goucher College. Arrested repeatedly as a member of the Progressive Labor Party and SDS in the 60s and 70s, Paley became an inactive activist until October 7, 2023.
