Letters to this Dialogue: Breaking News
Do you know that:
We are Amsterdam consists of 180 nationalities clustered in ghettos, hoods, yup, white neighborhoods and any and all combinations of the above. Expensive prices and housing shortages effect all peoples, especially those who are socio-economically challenged.
Mokum and the mazzal are Yiddish words. Imsha’allah, Ya’ani, Na’am and Ya’allah are Arabic words. How many other words have filtered into Amsterdam in the past few years?
Head scarves are worn by traditionally inclined Jewish, Moslem, Rasta and African women and come in handy when having a bad hair day as well
Jews and Moslims bonded together to strive for kosher and halal ritual slaughter of animals. When I spoke about the Dutch Party for Protection of Animal Rights while teaching in Palestine last summer, the students and teachers literally rolled on the floor with laughter, tears streaming down their faces in absolute amazement. It was incomprehensible that Jews and Moslems would even speak with each other, none the less talk about meat.
Talking about meeting, while playing the-breaking news game with Palestinian youngsters (whispering messages in each other’s ears and waiting to hear what comes out at the end of the circle-) in Jerusalem three years ago, I heard that the Israelis were responsible for 9/11, Yasser Arafat’s murder and the smuggling of Africans by Beduins across the Sinai.
Amsterdam’s Jewish and Moslim singles are still look for the most perfect partners, import cyber or in real time. I think that enhancing the quality of life for our youngsters’ without the shackles of our physical emotional and mental baggage would be a good step in the right direction. Storytelling and healthy foods shared clears a lot of space for questions and even some insights into our his/herstories which repeat themselves all too often.
Loneliness and being alone is an entirely different subject. I met a neighbor who is now in retirement. She has never greeted me in the 7 plus years that I am living in Amsterdam-Oost.
I said hello and she responded with: Is your house repairs finally finished? She lives right across from me and observed all the painting activities and bags of garbage being shlepped to the container on the street corner. I shared my excitement and pride in this amazing makeover. She then told me that she worked for 30 years at the local supermarket and went into retirement a few months ago. “I don’t know what to do with my self anymore. Lucky I will become a grandmother in May.” I wished her mazal tov and offered for her to stop by for a cup of coffee and cake whenever she cared to.”O no, I couldn’t do that. That is not the way we do it here. Anyway I am too shy!”
This is not entirely true. Many Amsterdammers drop by for coffee and cake ( usually by appointment :-)), but that is probable because many amsterdammers are either busy with work, applying for work, going to school, taking care of their everyday business. Which is good, most of the time. The social norms and non-verbal miscommunications, flooding of information with television and social media developments give the illusion that we are too busy for our lives at time. And one form of gathering together is through the re-collection of our misery, our victimization. No individual or group holds a monopoly on being a victim. All blood shed is heart rendering. All blood is red. It hurts to watch other’s pain. It hurts to hurt. It hurts to be hurt. Ouch.
We can not kiss the wound and make it better. We can cry and shout and laugh and share stories and listen from the heart of whole-ness. Shalom. Salaam.
And some coffee tea and home baked goodies makes it all a bit easier to swallow and keep on breathing in between.
Be with you zoen.
Enjoy yourselves. I am.
Sauci
Sauci Bosner 
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