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    • Tuvia Tenenbom on Palestinian supporters in New York
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    Tuvia Tenenbom on Palestinian supporters in New York

    Online Niel Posted on

    “For you, always,” I reply, like a well-bred New Yorker.

    “We’d like to talk to you about gun violence,” he says.

    Demonstrators are seen at a pro-Palestinian event in New York’s Marcus Gravey Park. (credit: ISI TENENBOM)

    What he really wants, in good spirit NY, is for me to transfer some dollars from my bank account to Amnesty’s.

    “I care more about Palestine,” I tell him, “than gun violence in America.”

    “Oh, Palestine,” he says, he knows well, even more than gun violence. “I’m Palestinian,” he boasts loudly and proudly.

    “From what city in Palestine?” I ask him in Arabic.

    “Can you repeat what you just said?” he asks.

    “Didn’t you understand what I said?”

    “Not.”

    “I asked you, in Arabic, what city in Palestine are you from? Don’t you understand Arabic?”

    “Not.”

    “How come a Palestinian like you doesn’t know Arabic?”

    He looks at the girl, who looks back at him and says, “I’m not really Palestinian; I am a Palestinian supporter.”

    “Why?”

    “Palestine is an ancient culture; it has been around for centuries!”

    “How many?”

    “A lot! And then something happened.”

    “What?”

    “The Jews came and stole the land!”

    “Where did those Jews come from?”

    “Everywhere! And they deported the Palestinians.”

    “How did they do it, with tractors?”

    “Worse! They oppressed the Palestinians and expelled them.”

    “When was that?”

    “A few years ago.”

    “How do you know all this? “

    “It’s all over Google and social media. Didn’t you see that?”

    “I’m not into social media, but I have a colleague who is. He lives in Texas and told me that gun violence in the US is not because of lax gun laws, as Amnesty might say, but because non-whites are violent people.”

    “There is no gun violence, he says, only violent, black people. You’re not white, are you?”

    “Do you think he’s right?”

    “I don’t, but he does. I asked him why he says such things, and he said, “Everybody knows that; it’s all over Google and social media.’”

    “I didn’t see that!”

    “They’re looking at different social networks, I think. You look at some kind of social media, and the Texan follows different social media. what do i know Maybe you’re both right: Jews oppress Palestinians and black people shoot white people.”

    He looks at the girl, who looks at him and stops talking. Then, after a moment of silence, he says, “I understand you. If I’m right, so is your colleague. Is that what you’re driving at?”

    “May be.”

    “I need to check more.”

    “Tell me, where are you from?”

    “Ecuador.”

    I do the Ecuadorian a favor and go to Harlem.

    what is there Marcus Garvey Park.

    I’ve never been to that park before; but today, so I hear, they’re going to have a “Gaza Kitchen” there, and I’m ready to join the party.

    Yes!

    Joining the Gaza kitchen

    I’ve lived in NYC most of my life and all these years I’ve known that New Yorkers are pretty neurotic people. But lately many of them seem to have found a purpose in life other than capitalism, namely Palestine, which makes them happier than they’ve ever been, and I want to be happy too.

    And to top it off, as far as I know they will have free food there. Free Gaza Food – Wouldn’t you like to join?

    I enter the park and look at the people around. Here is a white lady, or perhaps a man, with a kind of feminine face, but a small beard grows from the chin of this creature.

    Next to her/him is another creature: a white woman with a Palestinian flag on her head and a mask over her mouth. And look here: a fat lady wearing a big t-shirt that says, “Fatties for a Free Palestine.” Isn’t it something?

    The people here, mostly of the young variety, are black, Hispanic, white, and Asian, basically everyone, and many of them wear kefiyeh. They think, it seems to me, that the kefieh is a uniquely Palestinian scarf, which is not quite the case. But they love wearing it, even on this very hot, almost 90 degree day, and who am I to object? It makes them happy; i can say

    Now the question is: where is the food?

    Oh yes, here it is!

    I approach the food table, but it looks like it’s just a takeout. Here is a box of matzah ball mix, a few boxes containing crushed tomatoes, a few boxes of sweet peas, and a box of diced tomatoes.

    “Is that it?” I ask a lady who has all kinds of metal pierced in her face with a kefieh over it.

    “We’ve got veggie burgers and some hot dogs and they’ll be ready soon.”

    A guy sitting next to me starts singing “Free Palestine” and a choir of young men in kefiehs sings to him. They love Palestine!

    There are some literature and posters, free upon request, on various tables. America, I read in one of them, has so far given Israel 300 billion dollars. In a free pamphlet on one of the tables, I read that the author calls for Israel to cease to exist “by any means necessary.”

    At a table to my right, I see a person who calls himself “E” and is all for Palestine.

    “What is the story of this Palestine?” I ask him.

    “You know each other The Balfour Declaration?” he asks me.

    “What is this?”

    “Many years ago a man named Balfour gave Palestine to the Jews.”

    “How could he do it—was he the owner of the land?”

    “No! He was an army man, a fighter.”

    “Where?”

    “In Britain”.

    “How did he manage to give them Palestine when he was in Britain?”

    “He was a strong man!”

    “Was there, at that time, a country called Palestine?”

    “I’m not sure, but they were Palestinians. Muslims, Jews and Christians. They lived together, but Britain controlled the land and gave it to the Zionists.”

    “Who were the Zionists?”

    “Do you know about Herzl?”

    “Who was he?”

    “Herzl was a Zionist writer and a warrior. He started it all.”

    “How did the Zionists get to that land?”

    “They came from Europe.”

    “Why did they leave Europe?”

    “You’ll have to ask them!”

    “Wait a minute: how did the British get there to begin with?”

    This detail, unfortunately, does not know.

    “Who was there before the British?”

    E doesn’t know that either. What E does know is this: Israel is committing genocide and is willing to devote its time and resources to fighting it.

    “Does your driver’s license also say your name is E?”

    “No, it has another name.”

    “What name?”

    “A state-issued name.”

    “What is it?”

    A young lady sitting next to him interjects, “He doesn’t have to answer that!”

    At a table to my left, I meet a guy who says his name is Brandy. He’s 22, he tells me, and graduated from college last year with a degree in political science.

    “Since I was 11 years old,” he tells me, “I’ve been supporting Palestine.”

    His table is covered by a green cloth with Arabic writing all over it.

    “What is this?”

    “This is the flag of the Hatam Brigades of Palestine.”

    “Hatham? What is Hatam?”

    “Hatham!”

    “You mean maybe the Al-Qassam Brigades of Hamas?”

    “Yes, exactly! This is one!”

    “What does the flag say?”

    “By any means necessary!”

    They may think so, but it’s not true. What is written on the flag is this: “There is no God but Allah, and Muhammad is the messenger of Allah.” But I don’t argue with the Hatam fan. Instead, I ask him, “Do you support Hamas??”

    “Certainly!”

    “I heard, tell me if I’m wrong, that in The October 7th WarHamas men infiltrated Israel, killed civilians, raped Jewish women and burned Jewish children. Do I support that?”

    “By any means necessary!”

    “Are you picking this up?”

    “Yes. What’s your name?”

    “Whiskey.”

    Whatever his real name is, I’m not learning much here. Fortunately, however, in this kitchen in Gaza everything is free, including a free class given by a young couple, Olivia, “like an olive tree”, as she says, and Eren, who tells me he is an anti-Zionist Jew. I’m glad to meet them. All together, teachers and students, we are 10 souls.

    We all sit on the ground as people introduce themselves. Everyone, in turn, says their name and favorite pronoun. I mean, SHE, HE, SHE, HE, THEY or whatever. I choose IT. IT, like a cat. A girl next to me says “I use any pronoun”.

    Perfect. Both Eren and Olivia are climate activists, they tell us, in part because “climate change can lead to fascism.” The purpose of their activities, they say, is “to target Wall Street and private equity firms.” In general, they share with us: “Wall Street is responsible for genocide, for financing colonialism, and for financing projects that cause cancer.” No wonder why, according to them, “Citibank is the largest foreign financial institution in Israel.”

    At this very moment, a few people walk past us and happily chant, “Disability Justice and Palestine Solidarity.”

    Lyrically, this isn’t the most brilliant songwriting I’ve ever heard in my life, but if it makes them happy, who am I to object?

    Once the singing is over, Olivia tells us that “the Israeli occupation is bad for the climate.”

    “How so?”

    For starters, “Israel has a trillion-dollar credit card” offered by Citibank, Eren says.

    “What is the connection between climate, Israel, the environment and Palestine?” I ask.

    “In the 1930s, sorry, 1940s,” Eren replies, “some Zionist groups were working with Australian engineers and trying to drain the swamps on these lands. Marshes and wetlands are really important ecosystems because they are basically traps for dead carbon. So they are very important for the normalization of ecosystems and they are also important for the absorption of heavy rains, because the marshes have the ability, because of the poor soil, to draw water. And as Israel was founded, Australian companies came in to drain the swamps of southern Palestine.”

    I remember as a small child growing up in Israel, I was told that Israel was once a land of swamps, with millions of mosquitoes flying everywhere, and how happy I was that the swamps were gone before I was. born. The little I knew!

    The marshes, I now learned, were environmental gold mines, lovingly preserved by the nature-loving Palestinians. And then the goddamn Zionist Jews arrived, armed with Citibank genocidal financing, and dried up the earth, turning it into a fascist, climate disaster center.

    I stand up, trying to pull myself together. “What did I learn from my encounters with Palestinian lovers in New York?” I ask myself. A small lesson, for sure: I will never be as happy as they are. I don’t like mosquitoes and I hate swamps. Period. How sad.

    I walk around the park, looking at the various “pronouns” in it, and all I can think is: These people, who know no history and no sense, don’t really like Palestine or the Palestinians. What they share with each other is pure Jew-hatred, and that includes Jews among their Olympian self-haters.

    I’ll have to find other ways to make myself happy, I guess. How about I take the Palestinian matzah ball mix with me on the way out? Yes!!■

    Tuvia Tenenbom is a bestselling author whose latest book is Attention beauties ahead (Geffen, 2024).

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