World Cup West Jerusalem

Having grown up in the U.S. the World Cup isn't something my friends and I talk about, but all good Anti-imperialists love a sport that does not center the U.S.

In Palestine the majority of the folks I talked to were going for Faransa. Rumors had it that France had won before and gave the World Cup to Palestine. I imagine the fact that France has arab players makes them a favorite in the West Bank.

However, I wasn't in the West Bank for the cup, I was in Jerusalem. Since I hadn't gotten a chance to be a tourist and things were relatively calm in Beit Ummar, I had come in to 48 to visit the "old city." It was also one ISM'ers 30th birthday and we were interested in getting something different to eat: burgers and beer!

We were feeling adventurous and since the old city didn't offer much in the late hours we ventured into West Jerusalem. If Tel Aviv is Miami Beach, West Jerusalem is Soho or some city in Europe. Most women sounded like they were on vacation from the Upper East side. Guys were real macho and draped in Polo and brands much grander than that.

After dropping enough shekels on Burgers to feed a family in the West Bank,for a week,we moved to drift through the night air absorbing the World Cup blaring from every cafe, pub, and restaurant in the vicinity. I moved with mixed emotions, missing the humility of Beit Ummar, but yearning to experience the contrast of nightlife in Israeli Al-Quds.

As Zidane headbutted Materazzi, Israelis booed. I laughed because I imagine Materazzi said something to set Zidane off but I didn't imagine the gravity of it all and it's connections to where I stood. Israelis were going for Italy and I wondered if they knew their despised but more humble neighbors were going for the opposing team and secretly so was I.

We ended up in a plaza where Israelis watched the match on a big screen from a plaza, the doorways of pubs and balconies. I was a bit distracted during the penalties by the fact that there were young men, not in uniform, carrying large guns. This was the cherry on top of a Big McMilitarized Jerusalem Sundae. Less than 7 hours in the city and I was completely freaked out by the blatant big-brother fascism.





After Italy won, the three of us shimmied our way through a crowded alley, past mobs of drunken youth taking to the streets in celebration, and headed back to East Jerusalem where it just feels safer despite what you might read in Israeli tour books.

A day later an old friend put me on to what was said on that field. It seems Materazzi called Zidane, who is a French natonal of Arab/Algerian parents, a "Dirty Terrorist." I wonder how much of these race dynamics were at play in that plaza in Jerusalem.