Palestinian-Israeli Basketball Rules (Hilarious and Sobering)

Humor, at its best, is humor that is provocative and challenging. It strips you of your defenses, and allows you to view an old issue with new eyes. The satire in this article, which paints a vivid picture of the absurd abuse taking place in Israel (absurd because it is so severe, and so overlooked), does that exceptionally well:

New Basketball Rules in the Middle East
Yasser Jordan, BNN's Sports Editor, 8 February 2006

The International Basketball Federation (FIBA) has directed its Middle East commission to implement fifteen new rule changes from March 1. Regarding the use of a smaller ball for midget basketball, the commision for midget basketball events will consider the matter in April before the Central Board takes a final decision, according to a statement from Michael Lebanon, FIBA secretary general. The statement said rule changes proposed by the Technical Commission in December 2005 were accepted by FIBA Central Board.

Following are the rule changes:

Rule 1: Israelis have the right to play on both sides of the court, whereas Palestinians can only play on their own side.

Rule 2: For security reasons Palestinians do not have the right to pass the ball between players, the ball could hit an Israeli player.

Rule 3: There will be no basket on the Israeli side.

Rule 4: Israel is allowed to shoot at any time even during time-outs.

Rule 5: Palestinians are not allowed to have supporters. Only Israelis should be supported.

Rule 6: Israel selects the sports press writers and what the they reports:

Rule 7: Israel encourages Palestinians to shoot into the Palestinian basket. Players who refuse will be nominated as terrorists and will not be allowed to play.

Rule 8: Palestinian players are allowed to leave the field, but cannot return. One exception: A Palestinian can be replaced by an Israeli.

Rule 9: Israel selects and instructs the referees, and tells them when to look away.

Rule 10: Israel selects the captain of the Palestinian team.

Rule 11: Israeli faults and Palestinian good plays will not be shown on TV.

Rule 12: Israel takes the money which sponsors pay to Palestinians clubs.

Rule 13: Only Israeli players get refreshments.

Rule 14: Palestinians are required to play, when and where designated by Israel.

Rule 15: Rules only apply to Palestinians, Israelis may change the rules during the game and are not required to advise the Palestinians of the changes.

Al-Bassaleh and BNN are satirical. Disclaimer.

Megan's Writing

If you've enjoyed the reflections, poems, and fiction written by Megan Buff that I've posted, I'd encourage you to check out her new blogsite (Reflections of an Odd Duck).
If you don't know what I'm talking about, check out this selection of her work:
The Other One
Standard of Measure
My Jesus Wears a Hejab
Adhan
Settlement
The Beauty of Religion

Fiction and Fact

This is a short piece of fiction based on a suicide bombing that took place in Israel on the 3rd of February.

Here's a short blurb on the event from the Telegraph.co.uk:

The Middle East peace process suffered a setback today when a Palestinian suicide bomber killed an Israeli woman in the first such attack in more than a year in Israel.

The attacker blew himself up in Dimona, the site of Israel’s nuclear research reactor in the Negev desert, killing a woman and injuring 10 others.

An accomplice was shot by a police officer before he was able to detonate his explosives.

The Other One
by Megan Buff

I walked the market with my mother. Every morning we took to the streets, her chatter shrill above vendors’ calls and the bustle of friends. Vegetables, fruit, bread for the day while she gabbed on about my father, my latest boyfriend, the government’s incompetence. Can you believe the row they had at the checkpoint last week? What a pack of fools!

The explosion knocked us down. We tumbled over a fruit-stand and onto the startled vendor. Figs and shrapnel rained down on us. My mother screamed and covered her head.

I untangled myself from the wreckage first. An injured man lay nearby, blood pouring from his leg and side. A shopkeeper reached him a moment before I did and ripped open the man’s shirt to stop his bleeding. He exposed an explosives belt around the man’s waist.

The man looked up at us defiantly, frightened. He held my gaze a moment. I saw him. A tear ran down his cheek. A tear of what? Pain? Failure? Fear? Abandonment?

The shopkeeper backed away, calling for police. I saw the man’s eyes lose focus. His hand twitched and for a moment I feared we would be blown apart. Together. His lips moved in a prayer I could not hear, a language I did not understand.

The man’s eyes met mine again. Even that bit of focus seemed to hurt him. He smiled a cynic’s smile, a smirk of desperation – how crazy is this world.

Two soldiers rushed up, guns bared, pushing me away. I heard the crack of bone as one stomped on the man’s wrist. The barrels of their guns brandished inches from his face. His expression turned from failure to fear. How could he have seen anything but impending death? Even I, standing back, did not see the soldiers’ faces. He shouted but was drowned out halfway through his first word.

Four clean shots rang through the marketplace. Four shots fired into his face. His blood spattered my clothing. His face distorted with the explosions of bullets.

I could no longer see his eyes.

you shall love your neighbor as yourself

Another borrowed work. I like this for the way it combines macro-peacemaking with micro-peacemaking. Our lives [I'm making assumptions, of course] in America, with the death toll in the Middle East. Humanity, bound together.

Standard of Measure
by Megan Buff

Jesus said, “By your standard of measure it will be measured to you; and more will be given you besides. For whoever has, to him more shall be given; and whoever does not have, even what he has shall be taken away from him.” Mark 4:24-25

She is angry with me.

We no longer talk. Only static pervades the once-open channel between us.

I blamed her. How could this be my fault when I nearly pulled out all my hair – nearly collapsed on the floor of our apartment with hyperventilation – nearly forgot about her – trying to make it all work out? She did not work as hard, she must be the cause. What did she do for me?

She blames me, I am sure. She has not said so, but I know her well enough. We are each equally convinced this whole fiasco is the other’s fault.

I refuse to do her dishes until she apologizes. She can clean up after her own damn self – I’ve had enough of taking care of her. Perhaps I won’t even do mine. The dishes in the sink pile as high as our unspoken words.

She has virtually locked herself in our room. Her things have gone everywhere. Her books overtook the floor, a barricade against vacuuming. Her clothing invaded my bed. Every night I must oust them to sleep; every day they return, just as neatly folded. I refuse to ask what has occupied my desk.

This morning it was covered in a poster. Rosie the Riveter, defiant grey eyes staring out at me from behind her bulging arms. I gave my roommate that poster for her birthday last year. There was no note, no explanation. It seemed to have magically removed itself from her wall and arrived on my desk. I put it back. When I got back from breakfast, it had found its way to my desk again. I rolled it up and put it away before heading off to morning prayer service.

In the car, the radio squawks of the latest bombing in Israel. Israeli forces shot missiles at a Palestinian minivan. In retaliation, the Palestinians sent rockets into Israel. Six people died. I do not understand how this is the best strategy. Peace cannot be produced by retaliation, by strategic elimination of the other side. Peace can only be produced by conversation, co-operation, compromise.

I enter my apartment again. My roommate has taken her books from my shelf and moved them to her desk. If that’s the way she wants to be, well then, two can play at that game. I dig through her closet and retrieve my two shirts she borrowed last month. I don’t like them myself, but I sure won’t let her have them anymore.

The television jabbers on about a car bomb in Baghdad. Compromise, I think. That’s what we need. Some understanding in this world.

My roommate comes in the door behind me. I skulk out of the room. She doesn’t deserve conversation. That’s different. She hurt me.

A play about Christian Peacemaker Teams (CPT)

Tricia Gates Brown recently wrote a play about Christian Peacemaker Teams stationed in Palestine, Iraq, and Colombia. It's called Whatever Kindles, and it premiered last month at George Fox University (in Newberg, Oregon). Three screens projected various scenes of real life violence throughout the show, and the actors spoke in English, Arabic, and Spanish. The overriding message was about shared humanity, and the complex nature of love and peace.

The play's name comes from a quote at the end of the show. A Colombian CPTer, threatened with death if she continues her work, tells the audience:

"I have been working for peace in Colombia most of my life.
I will continue to work for peace in Colombia, until we have stopped killing our brothers and sisters.
Working for peace is what kindles love in me.
Yes, there's fear. Yes I question, is any of this of any use?
Then I remember that phrase . . .
St. Teresa of Avila said: 'Do whatever most kindles love in you.'
And so I do this.
I do this because it kindles love.
Do whatever kindles love."

* * * * *

I had the privilege of helping with Arabic language and dialect coaching for the show, which was an amazing experience, although pretty challenging. I've been out of Arabic for three years now, so I was constantly second guessing myself. We were also using three different Arabic dialects (Iraqi, Palestinian, and Modern Standard), which vary in a lot more than accent, so that added a whole new difficulty to overcome.

However, it was really exciting to have the Palestinian perspective shown onstage. In public. And there was a lot of openness and receptivity from the audience. We had talk-back sessions every night, and there were actual CPTers there to discuss issues with students.