Middle East Travel

Chanukah: Dedicated to the Power of Miracles

Israel

by Randi Winter

Israel holds a special place in my heart and in my travel experiences. I have been there many times and each uplifting experience has proved to be both crucial and miraculous in my life. As I say the blessings and light each candle on the menorah this Chanukah, I attribute a miracle to each flame burning brightly, illuminating “My Israel Miracles”.

Hanukkah is celebrated for eight days and nights, starting on the 25th of Kislev on the Hebrew (lunar) calendar. This year, the first candle is lit at sundown on December 21st. The word “Hanukkah” means “dedication” and commemorates the rededication of the holy Temple in Jerusalem.

In 168 B.C.E. Antiochus, the Greek King of Syria, outlawed Jewish rituals and ordered the Jews to worship Greek gods and seized the temple dedicating it to the worship of Zeus. Some Jews obeyed, but most didn’t. In a town near Jerusalem, Greek soldiers gathered the Jews, insisting they bow to an idol and eat the flesh of a pig, both forbidden. When Mattathias, a Jewish High Priest, was commanded to participate, he refused. Another Jewish villager volunteered in his place. Outraged, Mattathias took his sword and killed the man. Then, along with his five sons, they killed the soldiers and fled into the nearby mountains.

Later, when Judah Maccabee and his soldiers went to liberate the holy Temple, they found it totally desecrated, with many ritual objects missing or broken, including the menorah. They cleansed and repaired the Temple, but when they went to light the menorah as a re-dedication ceremony, all they found was a small flask containing enough oil to light the menorah for a single day. Miraculously, the oil lasted for eight days.

Today Jewish people around the world celebrate Hanukkah for eight days, lighting the “chanukiah”, the 8 branched menorah with the 9th taller “shamash” used to light the others as a servant candle. Each evening, the candles are lit, like reading Hebrew, from right to left, adding an additional one each day. It is customary for Menorahs to be in visible in the window, commemorating the eight-day miracle. When Jews kindle the Chanukah lights, it is natural to think about the role of miracles in our lives.

To me, Israel itself is a land associated with great miracles. The first miracle was in 1948, the year that Israel became a nation against all odds. The second miracle was in 1970 when I was accepted to go to study in Israel for my Junior year at Hebrew University. Before I started my Ulpan (intensive Hebrew), I got a job selling tours. When students from North America arrived in Israel they could see the attractions, but also what life was like for youths their own age, where almost everyone served in the army before they could start university, and they could go back understanding the reality there. It was on one of these “Scout the Land Tours that I fell in love with Israel and I met Sam, the love of my life.

Israel is a small country that spans a long history. Israel is a country blessed with people of all religions and nationalities. I celebrated life cycles in Israel, immersing myself in the festivals: agricultural harvest festivals, religious holidays of the new year and day of atonement, Purim was a costume party celebrating our survival, a poignant Remembrance Day followed by joyous Independence Day. At Passover, my whole family came to visit me. I celebrated the miracles of Chanukah where they started.

Israel is a country where each step represents lifetimes of cultural experiences, ancient and rich. The spirit of the people is palpable, especially in the old city in Jerusalem with its four quarters: Jewish, Muslim, Christian and Armenian. Commerce and proximity demands acceptance of all cultures and religions as you pass seamlessly from one to the next. The aromas, visuals and cacophony of cultures collide, yet blend in perfect harmony.

I experienced the third miracle when I visited the ”Yad Vashem, the Holocaust Remembrance Museum” with Sam’s parents who had been born in Poland and were some of the few who survived the war. Sam’s mother was sent to join her sister in a forced labour camp; spared by her family’s candy making skills, and good fortune. Sam’s father had been in several concentration camps including the dreaded Auschwitz. He showed me by jumping on the map of the camps. His story was miraculous because he had been called into the gas chamber and was recognized by someone from his town who told him not to take off his clothes, and instead pick up a broom and sweep like his life depended on it. It did. Auschwitz was liberated two weeks later.

The fourth Miracle happened twenty years later on my daughter’s thirteenth birthday. We decided to have her Bar Mitzvah in Israel, on top of Masada, the famous site of Jewish resistance. In the heat of the desert, past Qumron, where the Dead Sea Scrolls were found, with vistas of the Dead Sea on one side, and the faint remnants of army camps outside the fortress walls, we ascended to the top of Masada surrounded by family, friends and total strangers. As we stood in the middle of what was the ancient synagogue and gazed beyond the endless desert towards Jerusalem, the direction all Jews face when they pray, I experienced history and religion merge in front of my eyes. As I listened to the centuries old prayers, I understood about the sacrifices we sometimes must make to protect our freedom.

When I was invited back to Israel with a group of travel professionals, the fifth miracle occurred. The tour, which was a blend of Jewish and Christian history, offered a smorgasboard of historical and religious slants. Our overnight at a kibbutz in the north became something out of an evening news report. The kibbutzniks were edgy and nervous. We were restricted to certain buildings and finally told to stay inside where we spent a restless night. In the morning we learned there had been an attack from the nearly hills where terrorists had used hang gliders to ambush an army base and killed several soldiers. We were so close, we could actually see one of the hang gliders that had crashed into the hill by the kibbutz where we were just hours before.

The sixth miracle manifested itself during a cruise where we visited the Pyramids in Egypt, which played a large role in Passover, the exodus from Egypt. As we sailed in and out of the Port of Haifa, a model city of peace amongst the Arab, Jewish, Druze and Bahai population, I noticed that the ship was surrounded by Israeli frogmen to ensure our safety. I thought about all the Jewish refugees who had been turned away from these same shores during and after World War II, and how easy it is to take for granted safe passage, from country to country.

The seventh miracle happened during the Intifada. Tourism to Israel was reduced to a brave trickle by the threat of violence, Israeli products were boycotted and professors shunned like pariahs. If I could not encourage tourism to Israel, I was determined to show support for Israel and its academics. Believing the “Word is mightier than the Sword”, I created Hebrew University at Sea; a Baltic cruise with Jewish dialogue and shore excursions. It was intimidating at first, but for the participants, it became an affirmation that learning should never by stifled.

The Jewish Museum for Remembrance of the Holocaust, Yad Vashem has created a special recognition for every non Jewish person who by putting their own lives in danger, helped save Jewish lives. The eighth miracle is the untold story about Muslims who saved Jews. A remarkable photo exhibit about these Albanians opened at the museum November 1st, 2007. I met ordinary, extraordinary people from Albania and Kosovo who risked their lives for strangers and their code of honor. For almost 60 years, due to the stifling communist regime, no one knew that Albania (70% Muslim), had not only rescued every Jewish person within their borders, but had miraculously sheltered ten times the original population. Albania enabled Jewish survival with false passports and secretly crossed borders. Whole villages turned a blind eye to their “guests” who posed as Albanians. This strong code of ethics is based in the ancient oral code of the Kanun and its principle of Besa that stresses protecting those in need. At the museum, I witnessed the unforgettable reunions of rescuers and rescued and their gratitude to Norman Gershman and his Eye Contact Foundation whose mission is to use art as the primary form of expression, in order to break down stereotypes and build upon the deep roots of humanism that cross racial, ethnic, religious and national boundaries.

The ceremony at Yad Vashem was unprecedented. Since then, exhibits have been shown in the United Nations, New York, Connecticut, Washington, DC and in the UK. In 2009, exhibits will be shown throughout Israel and from Buenos Aires to Stockholm and other parts of the world. The book “Besa: Muslims Who Saved Jews During World War II” by Syracuse Press, is attracting worldwide attention. In 2009, the documentary movie called “God’s House”, about the Muslims who saved Jews during WWII, should bring this story to life on the big screen and has been made with the support of Jews, Christians and Muslims.

The Shamash, the 9th “servant” candle used to light the others, represents “service” and a responsibility to stand tall and take action to ignite the potential of others. These “miracles” are symbols of hope and promise for the future and will brighten my Chanukah being spent far from home.

Chanukah Customs:

While Chanukah is customary a children’s gift giving holiday, the greatest gifts are to ensure all children have loving families, safe homes, health care and the education they need to thrive. Chanukah foods reflect the miracle of oil: latkes (potato pancakes)and jelly doughnuts; special songs of miracles, and games where coin shaped chocolates or real coins,”Gelt”, are prizes. Games include spinning the Dreidel – a “top”. The four letters on the dreidel represent four words “Nes Gadol Hayah Sham” – Literally: “A great miracle happened there.” In Israel, the last word “Sham” is changed to “Po” which means “here”. “A great miracle happened here.”

Masada and the Dead Sea Day Trip from Jerusalem

2-Day Best of Israel Tour: Old Jerusalem, Bethlehem, Masada and the Dead Sea

About the author:
Randi Winter epitomizes Passionate Travel. As a journalist, she offers combines her interests and passions with travel, focusing on the destinations wow factor, translating dreams into experiences. She believes travel is enlightening, enriching, and inspiring. It opens doors and minds, stretches our imagination, and enlivens our spirit.
For more information contact:
Randi Winter
Specialist in and Journalist of Inspired Pursuits
Passionate Travel / A Virtuoso Affiliate of The Travel Network
Director of The Eye Contact Foundation
Director of Vancouver Downtown Jewish Community
Randi@passionatetravel.com
www.passionatetravel.com

Photo Credits:
All are photos by Randi Winter.

A Solo Woman in Saudi Arabia

Memoirs of a Single Western Nurse in Dhahran

by Anup Parmar

As I saw the police approach the taxi I was riding in with my handsome male companion on that lonely desert highway, my heart started to pound. Images of my passport with a deportation stamp “PROSITUTION” flashed thru my mind. This was one of the realities of a woman getting in a cab with a man who was not her husband, father, brother or son in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. It did not even matter, as in this case, that the man who accompanied me was very committed to his young charming boyfriend.

How did I get to that lonely desert highway in the Eastern Province of Saudi Arabia? Who was I, this foreign western woman draped in a long black robe sitting on the backseat of the cab? What was I doing there? The answers I prepared in my mind for the Saudi police were simplified and well rehearsed after one year of living and working in the land of oil and sand.

In 1998, looking for adventure and a chance to travel the world, I went to work in Dhahran, a desert town on the Persian Gulf of Saudi Arabia. During my fourteen months there I had an opportunity to lead a life that is too surreal for most westerners comprehend, immersed in a fascinating culture. The King Fahd Military Medical Complex (KFMMC) was a military complex that included a 329-bed hospital and a health sciences college, which trained about 300 health professional students. The hospital provides primary, secondary and tertiary medical services to the armed forces personnel, their dependents and other “eligible citizens.” It also had outpatient departments to provide Arabic patients with primary care needs.

Rules and regulations were rigid, but the compound was new and modern with a weight room, swimming pool, bank, beauty salon, restaurant, post office and a small but efficient supermarket. Recreation facilities’ usage was divided into male and female times and strictly enforced. There was a women’s housing compound where single foreign women, such as myself, lived. It was enclosed by fifteen feet of barbed wire fence, guarded by Saudi military 24 hours a day. No men were allowed on the women’s compound and women were not permitted on the men’s area. Single women required passes to leave KFMMC. According to Saudi laws and customs a woman is the responsibility of her husband, father, brother or son and therefore can only travel with this male relative’s permission. Since all my male relatives were in North America, I needed special permission from the hospital to move around the country.

There was a curfew of 11pm on weeknights and 1:00am on weekends. To spend an overnight away from the compound you had to obtain a special pass. For a weekend pass within the Eastern Province, an invitation letter from a married couple was required, their personal information, copies of their employment documents and marriage certificate and at least 72 hours for Human Resources & Security to process all these documents. Travel outside of the Eastern Province required all of the above plus an airline ticket and 7-10 days for processing by Human Resources & Security. Our passes were obtained and returned at the Women’s Gate but checked again at two other gates before we could leave or return to KFMMC. Single men didn’t have curfew, or need to get any passes or anyone’s permission to travel around the country. It’s a man’s world in Saudi Arabia!

The recreation department sometimes arranged day excursions to local attractions. This was one of the few ways to explore the surrounding country since women were not legally permitted to drive and public transportation system was not user friendly for women. KFMMC provided private bus services every evening and Thursday afternoons between our compound and Al Khober, the closest town for shopping about 35 minutes away. These buses dropped you in downtown and two and half hours later picked you up from the same place. There were separate buses for women, men and families.

Shopping in Al Khobar was an experience like no other. All women, including non-Muslim foreigners are required to wear an abbhaya (the long loose black robes the women must cover themselves with according to Saudi customs and laws). We wore these long black robes in the blazing sun with temperatures up to 50C. The shops were usually air-conditioned but during prayer call they shut down while male staff go to pray at the local mosque. While we waited in the blistering heat, sometimes we took advantage of the men and the religious police’s absence to subversively take photos. (It is forbidden to take pictures of women, public buildings and most other public areas in Saudi.)

All the shops in Al Khobar including lingerie, cosmetic and jewelry shops are operated by men. As there are no fitting rooms you buy your clothing, take them home to try them on, then if they don’t fit, take them back and repeat the process. The proprietors of cosmetic shops give advice on make-up to the Saudi women even though their faces are totally covered. Western women get the free advice, great discounts and bags full of free samples of the finest perfumes and beauty products from France. One jewelry shop gave my single friends and I substantial mafi husband (no husband) discounts because we didn’t have husbands to buy us nice things. In a gold shop when my friend wanted to purchase a necklace, after the usual bartering, when he saw my camera, the young shopkeeper, in exchange for an enormous discount, requested I take a picture of him posed with my blue-eyed, strawberry blonde friend.

Most social activities were segregated by nationals and non-nationals. Alcohol is illegal in Saudi however there were some pubs and alcohol was usually available at the many ex-pat parties. (Many ex-pats made their own moonshine.) The KFMMC was located in the middle of the desert enclosed by a wire fence. No one was permitted to go into the desert for “security reasons.” Guards drove around the compound every 45 minutes. One New Years day, a group of us decided to have a pot luck picnic on a tiny oasis in this beautiful but prohibited desert. We dug the sand from underneath the fence and placed large rocks to cover it. The next day, we moved the rocks, crawled under the fence then moved the rocks back to hide our escape route before the security drove by. Having parties always carried some risk.

The Health Records Department consisted of an American woman, myself and twenty-five hard working, enthusiastic female clerical and technical staff from the developing countries. Several HIMP male students did practicums on various days of the week. We also had two Saudi HIMP graduates from the college interning with us for one year. The Saudi government is trying to train its own health care workers to replace the ex-pats it has relied on for decades. The HRD was open 24 hours a day, seven days a week. I worked nine hours a day, Saturdays to Wednesdays. My duties included clerical, technical and administrative duties of a typical health records department as well as planning and supervising the Saudi interns’ and practicums for the students. The Health Information Services Program at the college offered a two-year program but only for Saudi men. Women attended an all female school in Riyadh. A six-week practicum for female students was offered at a different site due to the country’s rigid laws and customs. It was during the Saudi women’s practicum that I got to learn more about the ways of women behind the veil

According to Saudi Arabian customs, girls become women when they start to menstruate. At this time they must begin to wear the abhyahas and burkakhas, the black veil required to veil themselves from all men expect for their fathers, brothers, grandfathers and husbands. All Muslim female staff at KFMMC had to cover their heads regardless of nationality. As a non-Muslim western woman, I was permitted more liberties. I wore a “pre-approved” uniform provided to me by the hospital: a loose white lab coat made of heavy polyester-cotton blend over long dark navy blue pants. Buttons had to be done up and I wore a high neck T-shirt or blouse underneath and close-toed shoes with socks. On the compound, we westerners didn’t have to wear abhyahas but were required to dress “conservatively” in loose clothing with arms and legs covered. Outside, we wore abhyahas and carried headscarves because of the religious police. One day while shopping with a friend, an old Saudi man began to bang his cane on the sidewalk, pointing at my friend’s long fair hair.

“Sister! Abhyaha!” he screamed. “Sister! Abhyaha! Sister! Abhyaha!” He didn’t stop until she pulled out a headscarf and covered her head – one of those surreal “only in Saudi Arabia” moments.

As I sat in the taxi on that dark highway I thought back on my time in Saudi Arabia. It was hard for me to understand and fully accept many of the customs, but just as I thought the life of a woman there was a surreal experience, my own single childless state coupled with my constant solo travels to remote parts of the world, was too surreal for most Saudi women to comprehend.

”I’m from Canada,” I explained to the military policeman as he scrutinized my male friend and I. “I work as a health records technician at King Fahd Military Medical Complex in Dhahran. I came to work here because I love foreign cultures and customs but I’m returning to Canada soon as I have finished my one year contract.”

He looked intently at me. “You are going back to Canada?”

“Yes. I’m on my way back to KFMMC from my marsallama (farewell) dinner in Al Khobar.” I felt sick with nervousness. Would he believe me?

To my relief, he handed my work documents back to me unstamped. “Your family will be happy to see you,” he said. Then he smiled and waved us on. “I hope you enjoyed your stay in the Kingdom. Salem Egem (Good Night).”

More Information:

Profiles of Saudi Arabia: Dharhan

Dharhan Wikipedia page

King Fahd Military Medical Complex

About the author:
Anup Parmar grew up in Vancouver. She taught and trained students in health care and taught English in Saudi Arabia, United Arab Emirates, China and Poland. Anup has enjoyed traveling to many remote and isolated places around the globe. She currently teaches health care workers in Vancouver.
Contact: anup_parmar_99@yahoo.com

Photo credits:
All photos are by Anup Parmar.