One of the best parts about living in Israel is the diversity of people.  There is seldom a dull moment. Everyone has a story.  Of course, everyone in the world has their own story, but some people have stories.  Something as seemingly mundane as parking your car in a parking lot here can net a new friend and the privilege of entering their world.  

Not long ago, what started out being seeming like a mundane chore of parking my car in downtown Jerusalem brought me just exactly that, a new friend, and the privilege of hearing a highlight from his life.

His name is Rafi, and he co-operates a small parking lot between the Damascus and Jaffa Gates in the Old City of Jerusalem.   

After I pre-paid for my day of parking, we began to chat.  I had recently seen in the neighbourhood, a street sign that said ‘Black Panthers Way’, so I asked him about it. He began to tell me a bit about the history of the neighbourhood the parking lot is in, Musrara.  This neighbourhood was the home of the Israeli Black Panther movement.  This was a twist for me . . . I couldn’t put the two concepts together . . . Israel and Black Panthers.  Being from Detroit, I had lived through race riots in the 1970’s, and was somewhat familiar with the Black Panther movement in the states.  But to combine the two concepts was a stretch. 

As it turns out, a group of young ‘Oriental’, or ‘Mizrachi’ Jews, banded together and began to protest against social discrimination they were receiving at the hands of Israeli Ashkenazic Jews.  What began as more peaceful demonstrations soon began to become more violent.  It was only the onset of the Yom Kippur War, which threatened the existence of the young state, that derailed their efforts.  It was quickly obvious their attention had to join the rest of the country’s, and fight the enemy without and leave the enemy within for the time being. 

After the war, the movement had lost it’s momentum, and most Mizrachi Jews settled into life as it was, imperfect, but familiar.  

Rafi proudly showed me his picture that had been in the newspaper years ago, and now, close to 70 years old, still has a passion and fire as he talks about his activities of the 1970’s.  

A naturally likable man, he was proud of acting on something he believed in.  He didn’t seem bitter or defeated.  It was a reminder that no opposition can take away your self-esteem.  Only we ourselves are capable of that.  

As we continued talking, I asked him if he ever regretted his decision to protest.  He said with a broad smile, no, that he never had.  He stood and acted on something he believed in.  I then asked him what his advice would be to a young adult now who wanted to stand against social injustice in Israel.  He answered ‘education, education, education, and to work to create a sense of belonging’.  It looks like he has done just that for himself.  

So if you find yourself in Jerusalem, needing to park your car, make the effort to find the Ayin-Het parking lot, and share an moment of this amazing country’s history with a very special man, Rafi.  Actually, whenever you are parking your car in Israel, take a moment to listen to the operator’s story.  It might just surprise you.  It did me.