Maine 30/12/2008 by me

By me I knew three important facts about Maine: it is cold, near Canada, and the Seeds of Peace held their peace summer camps there.

After being in Portland and Augusta for two days: I know two more facts: we are all cousins and there is so much land.

I had seen pictures of Portland during my teenage years when a young 17 year old man my age was shot, and subsequently died, by Israeli soldiers when demonstrations broke out in his village, Aarabeh, in the trinagle area of the Gaillea. That young man, my same age, had participated in a peace camp with the Seeds of Peace a year before. Having come back from spending a summer in Portland doing outdoors activities and communicated with other Israeli and Arab teenagers, he made friends and encouraged "leading both sides." A year later, he was killed, and seven years later after his parents went through trials of the Israeli army, there was no explanation for his killing as an Israeli citizen.

In many ways, Asel Asleh represented my generation, or at least, I myself as individual who also went to another summer camp, Building Bridges for Peace, in Denver, Colorado, the same year he went. I, too, believed in "leading sides", even after the second camp David failed the summer of 2000. And now, another peer was killed for no justfication. "Leading both sides" never meant anything more than then, amidst the second Intifada breaking out, the loss of another peer, the meanindlessness of killing, the struggles to have a normal life, to be a 17 year old, not older.

Eight years later, I found myself in the same city that Asel Asleh was in, Portland. Two grandparents brought their granddaughter to the bus station to go to south station, in Boston. "Where are you from?" I asked the grandparents. "Augusta, but we are with our grand-daughter. Where are you from?"

"Israel-Palestine," I answered. The older gentleman answered. "Well, a lot is going on there." I nodded. There was silence."Maine is very close to Canada," I said, "Yes," said the older women, "We speak French." I spoke French with the older couple, knowing that I was going to hear a Canadian French accent. The couple warmed up to me. It was time to board the bus. They helped their grand-daugher with her lugguage, introduced themselves and shook my hands. "On est tous cousins, eh?" said the older woman.

"Of course, we are all cousins," I said, smiling. On my bus ride, I thought about it again, watching the snow in Maine, the lakes, the bare trees, the spread out houses, the huge amount of uninhibited land.

Is that what Asel saw eight years ago in Portand, and was that what I saw eight years ago in Denver, that there was so much land, that we were all cousins in the end?I am not sure. He is dead. Many others are dead as well. But there is so much land.