As a journalist and teacher, I cannot remember the number of times I have asked people that, given the chance of a lifetime visit, where is their preferred destination. Majority mentioned the United Kingdom, followed by the Caribbean, Canada and Israel. The few who mentioned the US did not want just to visit but to stay.
Personally, my dream is to visit far-flung places like Vanuatu and Papua New Guinea. The people there respect nature and its offerings and tune their lives accordingly. When their fishermen haul in their catch they apologise to the spirit of the fish for sacrificing them for their own sustenance. They do same for plants and animals they feed on. My prayer is to get sponsorship soon to visit such a place. As a naturalist I am very interested in societies that respect nature’s laws.
Visiting Israel had never been on my mind. I have read many a historical account on the formation of the State of Israel. Knowing the perennial conflict with Palestine, I thought there would be police or military presence every few metres all over the place. Described as the Holy Land by many, I was not inclined to think I should visit, probably because I am by nature a non-conformist. But then, it happened that I was on a pilgrimage to Israel in July of 2016.
As our tour bus left the Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv en route to Tiberias, I noticed a knoll just a few 100 metres to the right. It looked strange to me because as a good student of Geography, it looked incongruous against the landscape as I am well aware of formation of hills, mountains and valleys, so I asked our guide, Major (Rtd) Abirama Harris, what that knoll was.
She said the site used to be a refuse dump that attracted a lot of vultures and other avian scavengers that posed a danger to aircraft taking off or landing. There were occasional bird strikes by aircraft. As a result, Prime Minister, Ariel Sharon, decided the site be covered with grass. The rotting garbage thus produces methane gas that has been piped, harvested and adds two megawatts of electricity to their national grid.Is there a lesson in here for Ghana?
I did not see police officers in the street corners of Israel; none. It was only when we were getting into Jerusalem from Bethlehem that I saw two at the checkpoint. Then I bumped into three young soldiers when I was getting out of the Dead Sea enclave. This, I was told, was because east of the Dead Sea is Jordan, considered not friendly towards Israel. I took a picture with these young soldiers.
I learnt that every Israili citizen is a soldier. At age 18 when one would have completed high school, you do a three-year military training and service after which you go for higher education if you so qualify. So, in the event of what they term terrorist attack, casualties are minimal because their military background kicks in, in that event. The women do half the time.
However, Palestinians who are citizens of Israel have no compulsion for military training, unless they so desire. Reasons for this cannot be far-fetched. I think it was during the Rawlings era that the government mooted the idea of military service for our university graduates. There was hoopla over this at the time, but a cue could have been taken from the Israeli experience, not because Ghana has hostile neighbours but because of the discipline military training engenders. Now, thousands who want to join the armed forces are turned away.
Everyone has their version of the problem between Israel and Palestine, but I have tried not to bother understanding any. Don’t I have my own headaches already? But in Israeli cities and towns I saw Palestinian registered vehicles moving about freely, but Israelis were rather more cautious in Palestinian areas. Major Harris herself did not go to Bethlehem with our group.
If you have read and followed the historical narrative of the Holy Bible and walk through the places in Israel and Palestinian areas, it feels as if the Bible has come alive and you are a participant in those events. That was what I felt in Israel. Israel itself is just a few 100 square kilometres bigger than Ghana’s Oti and Volta regions put together. Within five days we had covered the whole of the area.
The climax of every pilgrimage to Israel is the visit to the Wailing Wall. Some call it The Western Wall, others call it the Post Office. Post Office, because there are little crevasses in the wall in which the faithful thrust their written prayer requests. To the left is the Muslim area where the famous Al-Aqsa Mosque is and the Jewish side to the right. This one is open to all faiths so long as you put the cape with the Star of David on your head.
I guess it was this day that I sold my country as tolerant of all religious faiths. I had a prayer request from one of my best journalism students who is Muslim. Then I spotted two women heading for the Mosque. They were speaking Bangla so I surmised they were wives of Muslim clerics from Bangladesh. They were suspicious of me when I called out to them. Could they have thought I was going to beg them for alms?
I read their minds, and to put them at ease, I said, “Sorry to bother you ladies, I am a Christian pilgrim from Ghana in Africa, but I have a prayer request from my Muslim friend. Could you, please take it to the mosque for her?” I could see the surprise on their faces. To test me, they asked the name of my friend. “Jemila,” I said before the question reached my ears. A female? I said yes and pulled out the envelope from the pouch slung over my shoulder. Their befuddlement was clear.
The one who spoke better English asked if various faiths mixed freely in my country. I said yes and added that we had no inter-faith problems in Ghana. They took the envelope with a certain reverence I cannot describe. Then I asked if they could get me a good quality Misbaha or Tasbih, the Muslim prayer beads, for my friend and her sister because I was afraid some cheap imitation might be sold to me.
At 20 dollars, one went and brought me three of the beads. I thanked them profusely for giving me their time. It was an honour to them that a “non-believer” like me could be of service to a Muslim friend. “Your country will be great,” they said to me as I headed for my side of the Wailing Wall. With the satisfaction of having sold my country positively, I strode to do my own meditation.
Israel may be called the Holy Land, but not everything is holy. You could buy fake items if you are not smart to detect it. I had the experience in Jericho, where supposed pure leather belts were on sale. A cousin had asked me to get one for him. The vendor swore to high heavens that nothing could be better than that in quality. I paid top dollar for the belt. I am ashamed to describe what it turned out to be less than two weeks after my cousin started using it. But one fake belt should not overshadow the holiness of the area, should it?
By Dr. Akofa K. Segbefia