Homes

Early in my stay here in Tel Aviv my new friend was telling me about life in Uzbekistan. He is Muslim, although like 80% of the people on the planet, he does not practice his religion regularly. He said to me, "There are three things we say a man must do: raise a son, build his home, plant a tree." This sounded to me like an honorable tradition that any young man would be willing to aspire to. I wondered why we have no equivalent in American wisdom.

On our tour to Galilea, the guide points out the difference between Muslim villages and Jewish settlements. "The Muslim will not live in an apartment with neighbors. He must build his own home. He will not hire an architect or an engineer. He will design it and build it himself. The Jews prefer to live in apartments with neighbors." Again, the self-sufficiency of the Muslim man, the ingenuity for building his home, I found quite laudable. Most villages do appear in a state of incomplete construction, but a man will build his home as he can afford to. I knew a farmer when I was growing up who did the same thing. For the four years I knew him, his home had no living room, but it was home, and it was family. I felt, though, that our guide was disparaging the Muslim for not living with neighbors. The Muslim home is easily expanded to accomodate family expansion. And, given that all housing is build on the unarable hillsides, the Muslim does not lack for neighbors.

Suddenly, I've begun to understand the Israeli tactic of destroying a home whenever a family member has been identified as a terrorist. It is an attempt to emasculate the family head, to humiliate him in his community. Imagine the anger and frustation of a man who has lost his son to an act of terrorism and then to lose his home also. It will be hard for him to plant a tree. At least, it would be for me.