Fear Disclosed

Jerusalem, Israel

 
About half a year ago Angela left her home country of Germany with only her bicycle and a couple of bags on the side of her wheels, carrying all that she would need to travel across the world. Since that day, she has trekked through Czech Republic, Slovakia, Austria, Hungary, Serbia, Albania and at her latest stop, Jerusalem, where I met her piecing together a hearty meal inside the communal hostel kitchen.

The journey will eventually take her through the United States and South America to the final projected destination in Buenos Aires, Argentina. This adventure has enabled Angela to see unique parts of the world in such a tangible way, riding into neighborhoods with no barrier between her and the people. The aromatic smells fill the open air around her, while blankets of stars greet her every night. Back roads better for bikes, send her to places no cars, buses, boats, trains and planes can enter. Entering the places diverse cultures dwell has molded a new perspective on humanity.

Upon meeting Angela, she had already spent the day biking all throughout the north of Israel, her journey south into Bethlehem continues after a night of rest.
 
It is difficult spending much time in the politically and religiously charged territories of Israel and Palestine without meeting a native sitting on a one-dimensional perspective. In just a day and a half, Angela had already received an ear-full of "They did this,” and "They did that.”

"Who is They?" she said as I listened to her stories over dinner, "I am tired of hearing this.”
 
“If they would just connect with one another and stop seeing each other as distant, it would change everything," Angela exclaimed.

In my six weeks living in the land, hearing both sides of the narrative, I could already see a fear-charged distance between the Israelis and Palestinians.
 
The word "They” was used often, as if the people group they spoke of lived oceans away, as if the people groups being contrasted were foreign objects. But these two nations are a stones-throw away, they feast on middle-eastern cuisine much like one another, they share like-minded cultural values and pay adherence to their religion in a very similar disciplined regard.

Angela contrasted this with a story from her time spent in Albania. She and another biker, who had met on the road in Serbia, pulled into a village in Albania for the night to set up camp and rest. Children from the village ran towards the two bikers, running their fingers across the tires, chains, petals, and up the bike frame like it was an undiscovered treasure. As they admired these girls and their fancy equipment, more villagers began to gather around. Before she knew it, the entire campsite was full of practically every villager there.

They spoke little English but their overwhelming hospitality was a language to itself. The women in the village prepared rice, vegetables and bread for Angela her biking partner. They continuously signaled for the girls to eat more and more. When Angela asked the villagers where they lived, they pointed to weathered huts off a red dirt trail. It was obvious these people had very little but their hospitable nature made it seem like they had much.

The villagers asked the girls where they would be sleeping that night they pointed to their tents, "Here."

“But you can't," the villagers insisted.

"Why not?" the girls asked.

"It is very dangerous here!" they replied.

"What do you mean it is dangerous?"

"There are dangerous people here," the villagers said.

"But everyone in the village is here." The girls replied.

Then, something happened. The villagers stopped.

Suddenly, they looked around as if this danger they spoke of was something communicated for a long time, transferred for generation to generation but never questioned before. Who was the “they” spoken of? The “they” to be afraid of? The “they” to watch out for when there was no one else around but each other?
 
The villagers went on to bed without addressing the question. But the change in the atmosphere revealed a sudden revelation.


“We can create a figure of fear for so long that we are blinded to see the commonalities in one another.” Angela said to me. Or in the case of the villagers in Albania, perhaps the fear of what is found within can become a distant object we project as the “other.”


"We are all more alike than we realize," Angela said. “If we could just see our neighbor as someone like us, we may find our fear disappear.”

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