Holly Beilin is a sophomore from Fort Lauderdale, Fla. She can be reached at hbeilin@live.com.
This past summer, I was one among thousands of young adults entering the country of Israel on the Taglit-Birthright trip. Enticed by free airfare and a packed itinerary of Facebook-worthy photo ops—like floating in the Dead Sea and riding camels—we swarmed the tiny nation in hordes. Carrying neon water bottles and North Face backpacks, Birthright participants were everywhere. The majority of us American college kids had been given the free trip to encourage support of the country. Most of us just wanted to go to “the disco.”
Three days into the trip we entered Jerusalem. The group was intent on sightseeing and combing the Holy City for cheap jewelry, but the agenda also included the introduction of eight Israeli Defense Force soldiers. Five “men” and three “women,” who were younger than most of the Birthright participants, would be accompanying us for the remainder of the trip.
Taglit-Birthright assigns these soldiers on trips to personalize the Israel experience. Throughout our travels I became good friends with a soldier, Gal, who confided that she had been anticipating this trip and the break from army life for months.
Sometime during our travels we passed Gal’s army base. She pointed out the cluster of mid-size gray buildings that looked like offices, incongruous with the surrounding desert. She worked in the Army’s Human Resources Department since girls are not usually placed in direct combat. A language barrier prohibited me from understanding her exact job duties, but I commiserated about her last posting: long shifts watching cameras stationed along the country’s borders to identify intruders. Eventually, she said, her eyes ached so badly that she had to ask her supervisor for a new position. I tried to think of a comparable experience I could share. Perhaps the headaches I received from staring at my laptop screen during finals?
In Jerusalem’s Old City we snapped pictures at the Western Wall. It was a Friday, the Islamic Holy Day and also Nakba Day, “the day of catastrophe” when Palestinians grieve over Israel’s independence. There were hundreds of soldiers throughout the city visibly carrying rifles and machine guns in case violence erupted during this tense time. But the beefed-up security on Nakba Day (an occasion I had never heard of) only indicated danger to us anxious Americans. The trip leader decided it wasn’t safe for us to stay, and we were told to leave the area. The Americans shuffled nervously towards the safety of our bus. However, we watched, amazed, as the unperturbed Israeli teens casually bought ice-creams from a vendor and seemed completely unconcerned. The threat of danger in their own country, in their own city, was just a part of their daily life.
Currently, I participate in a program to develop connections between Pakistani students and those in the United States. Recently, the already unstable situation in Pakistan has become even more precarious as tensions between the President and the military increase. The entire country is suspended, waiting to see what changes will take place in its government.
During this time of turmoil, the Pakistani students are going about their daily lives. On Facebook, one student from Kohat University near Peshawar, Pakistan talked about efforts to host a “cleanliness campaign” to clear trash off roadsides. Others were entering a photography contest; if they win, the prize is a digital camera. Basically they are doing the same things as students at UNC-Chapel Hill and across the United States do, all while living in what Forbes ranks the third most dangerous country in the world.
Our lives as UNC-CH students aren’t always easy. We deal with difficult classes, friendship drama and fears of an uncertain job market in a troubled economy. However, when I find myself getting overwhelmed or complaining, I think about Gal, who still has a year of mandatory military service until she can even attend school, or about the students at the University of Peshawar earning degrees amidst completely unpredictable circumstances.
Though very different, we all have one thing in common: the determination to educate ourselves and build our future.