It is not surprising that the Hamas leadership is very quiet lately. Why bother? The media, the international community and the public opinion are full of advocates on their behalf. No one asks any more questions about their ideology, goals and strategies. They are the “underdogs” and we are the “aggressors”. Period. The Islamic government of Gaza, an extremist, fundamentalist, terrorist regime gains much support from the so called liberal, democratic world. There is no call for any change in their platform that preaches for the destruction of the State of Israel. There is no voice that asks for at least a humanitarian visit with Gilad Shalit after four years of being held hostage. The message to the Palestinian people is clear: Why compromise or show flexibility? Reality proves that the hard liners win and the moderates are defeated. The message to the Israeli people is clear as well: There is no one out there who cares to listen and there is no one to talk to. So again, why compromise?

While this analysis sounds terribly depressing and indeed it is, I personally refuse to lose hope like many of us. I stick to my old optimistic approach: eventually the people on both sides, not necessarily their leadership, will return to their senses and will understand that no one is going to leave here. The only solution is to split the land and compromise. I am also optimistic because I am old enough to remember some meaningful personal encounters that my generation experienced over the years with our Palestinian neighbors. Unfortunately, this is not possible any more but I truly believe that the “people to people” connections can make the difference. I would like to share with you one of my recent such encounters that accrued, believe it or not, in…. the Garden State. It is also a very symbolic illustration of our deteriorating situation.

It was the summer of 1995. I had just arrived with my family to NJ to serve the community as a Shaliach. We settled in our new Livingston home and like all the local natives, our first weekend was spent exploring Route 10, searching for America’s great treasures. At lunch time the kids became hungry and insisted we try the place that makes those giant sandwiches, an all American institution unknown to us Israelis called: Blimpie.

While we were standing in front of the cashier loudly debating and discussing the multiple choices of our order, the owner, an Israeli looking guy, unexpectedly approached us with a big smile and asked us in perfect Hebrew where in Israel we were from. When I told him that I grew up in Ashkelon, he happily replied that we are neighbors. Only then we realized that he was a Palestinian from Gaza. His name was Fouad and he had left his refugee camp a couple of years before, looking for a better future. Together with his two brothers, he was trying to make a living selling these mega sandwiches in East Hanover. He was thrilled to find new foreigners as friends, happy for the opportunity not to converse only in English, happy to share memories from our "mutual homeland" and to openly complain about the leadership of the Palestinian Authority, Israel and the US.

Immediately thereafter we became frequent customers at Blimpie. Most likely we returned time and time again not due to the quality of the sandwiches but because we enjoyed the company. In other words: not the food but the Fouad. As new arrivals in New Jersey we felt a kind of kinship with this family. Surprisingly enough, the mentality, the language, the background and the geography bonded us quicker with them then with some of our new American friends and colleagues. We used to talk about our old country and joke about life in NJ. We never really discussed politics but it always lurked above us.

During one of our visits, Fouad called us into the restaurant's back room and said he wanted to introduce us to his VIP department. In the room were his brothers and they all invited us to share some homemade hummus, labaneh, za'atar, olive oil and hot pita bread. "This is the real stuff isn’t it?" he proudly said. "Forget Blimpie Shmimpie" he added, which is what we did with much passion. We all sat together in harmony wiping the hummus and labaneh from our plates with the pita in the traditional Middle Eastern manner.

A few months later Prime Minister Rabin was assassinated and everything changed. Relationships between Israelis and Palestinians were never the same after that and personal relationships dwindled. The kids did not push us anymore to visit Blimpie. Yes they became more Americanized, made new friends and discovered better food opportunities but it was social as well. We all knew that we will not be able to avoid politics anymore and that hummus by itself, even homemade, is not sufficient to bridge the growing rift between us.

A few years later, in the midst of the Intifada, when it was clear that the Palestinian authority needed a new leadership and new attitude, I decided to stop by Blimpie and say hi. Fouad and his brothers were not there anymore. Near the old sign announcing their special “meal deal” there was another sign on the window symbolically announcing what we were all hoping to see in the Palestinian national leadership. In bold the sign read: “New management. New crew. New attitude.” Unfortunately it didn’t help much. Not for the future of the Palestinians and not for the success of Blimpie’s restaurant.

During my recent visit to NJ, I stopped by again. Now that Hamas took over Gaza and the relationships are so explosive, I wanted to recall the magic moments that I shared with my Palestinian friends over those plates of hummus and labaneh. Reality took over nostalgia again: In the same way that there is no Palestinian authority in Gaza anymore, there is no “Blimpie” on Route 10 anymore. The good old huge sandwiches looked to me like they were the same size but there is a new banner announcing a brand new chain. "Subway" took over “Blimpie” in a democratic or perhaps aggressive hostile way.

I will probably never know what happened to Fouad and his family. I hope they are all OK and I will treasure the time we spent together. I know for sure that the average Palestinian family, even in Gaza under Hamas, is not made up of extremists or Islamic militants. Above all, they all seek a better life. I know for sure that for me and for my family, this encounter with a rational, nice, and hospitable Palestinian family made a difference. I hope that my children, even when they wear their IDF uniforms, remember Fouad’s smile. I know for sure that down the road, probably after much more bloodshed, the people of both sides will compromise and share this land.

Drishat Shalom,

Amir

You can with your comments.

to receive "On the Ground in Israel" via e-mail.

Read more. Visit the On the Ground archive