One of the things that many tourists say after being in the Old City is “except for the Jewish Quarter, it’s so dirty.”
In fairness to the other quarters, it should be noted that the Jewish Quarter has been completely rebuilt since 1968, so if for no other reason, it simply looks cleaner and neater because it is much newer. It should also be noted that the Jewish Quarter also seems to get better municipal services.
Having offered that caveat, I want to add that the people in and around the Jewish Quarter don’t seem to throw trash on the ground to the degree that people in the other quarters do. Now, that statement is an observation, not the result of scientific data gathering. I simply see what I see: People in the Jewish Quarter tend to not throw trash on the ground, while those in the other quarters have historically just thrown their candy wrappers, coffee cups, cigarette packages, etc, on the ground.
So, I was skeptical when I noticed new trash cans (with liners) in the Muslim Quarter, specifically along the high traffic Al Wad Road, which connects Damascus Gate with the Western Wall Plaza. That the cans are chained down might suggest some higher ups in the municipality were skeptical as well. The cute stickers say (only in Arabic) “The city is your home, keep it clean.”
The Old City has several full time street sweepers, which probably accounts for some of the ease with which its residents toss their litter on the ground. Kids and teens seem to be the worst, but I see a lot of adult men modeling the litter dropping custom, too. I’ve also been told that in the Arab culture exists the idea that “what’s inside my home is mine, what’s outside is not.” And this maxim probably contributes to the acceptability of simply dropping litter wherever one may be when there’s litter to be dropped.
Further observation: While there is still a considerable amount of littering in the target area, the campaign does appear to be helping. I hesitate to use the word working, but slowly it might actually be working. Obviously time will tell, but there is already a noticeable difference in the appearance of Al Wad Road after the first month or so. And, to my great surprise, the cans are still in place and stocked with liners. I thought for sure they would have been stolen or destroyed within the first couple of weeks. I was wrong.
The Holy Land’s Underbelly
On Wednesday evenings, my friend Bill and I go to Tel Aviv to teach at the Sudanese church, which is located near the central bus station in south Tel Aviv. This an area that is heavily populated by foreigners – some legal, some illegal.
One Israeli described the demographics like this: “It’s so crowded with foreigners that it’s hard to find an actual Israeli there. And if you do, they are simply passing through going to or from the bus station.” His observations are pretty accurate. After our meeting with the Sudanese men, we generally get a bite to eat at the nearby pedestrian mall. Besides eating, we also wander around trying to strike up conversations with whomever we can; but mostly we are observing, trying to figure out how things work in this island of foreign workers.
Not only is this the foreign workers’ stomping ground, it is also an area with homeless people who have found themselves on the streets due to drug abuse or mental illness. I’m sure there may be some other reasons, but those seem to be the most prominent.
The homeless guys in the photo above, are sleeping in the shooting gallery. That’s where heroin addicts hide in the shadows and inject themselves (see the video below). The place is littered with filth, all the things associated with homeless drug addicts: human waste, trash, treasures collected from dumpsters, rats, empty lighters, spoons, and old needles and syringes.
At times it’s overwhelming to see the collection of misery that has settled in that area. And, I’m talking about the majority of those in the area, not just the heroin addicts sleeping in their own waste. My heart aches both for the addicts and for those who have made their way to Tel Aviv – however they did that – to work one level above slave conditions (worse in some cases) in an effort to send some money back home, or to seek a better life for themselves.
What’s astounding is the emptiness and collective hopelessness that permeates the area. Pubs of one ethnic variety or another are the gathering places, the anesthesia that dulls the emptiness that is life for so many of these wanderers.
In contrast to this painful scene, are the men who meet us to study God’s word at the Sudanese church a couple streets over. They, too, have tales of hardship to tell, but they aren’t empty or hopeless. The difference? It isn’t in the hardship of their lives verses the hardship of those we painfully observe on the walkway each week, because their lives are equally challenging. The real difference is the hope of the gospel.
I’m encouraged every Wednesday night to sit with these men and see a real example of the hope and contentment the gospel offers; to see the effects of believing in the supremacy of Christ over all other suitors.
Here’s a video of two guys shooting heroin in the shooting gallery last night.
UPDATE: Here’s the same video with brightness and contrast adjustments:
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