Above Everything: On Nicolas Jaar, Friendship and the Occupation

Why I insisted on speaking in Hebrew with my Israeli friends at the Nicolas Jaar show in Ramallah, and why that doesn't mean Israelis are welcome there

Nicolas Jaar (gettyimages)
Nicolas Jaar (gettyimages)
26 באוקטובר 2017

It was on a Friday afternoon, the right time for a quiet glass of white wine and some down time. A good friend of mine called, somewhat intruding, and asked enthusiastically: "are you going to Nico's Ramalla or Haifa show?"

"Who is Nico? What's going on?"

"Nicolas Jaar, the Palestinian DJ, sister."

"Oh, OK. I saw something on Facebook but didn't bother to think about it."

"Well, we're going, I don't care how. There are no tickets left for Haifa because I guess there were only places left in the Palestinian quota, and I even participated in the raffle!"

For two weeks before Jaar (a Palestinian refugee from the largest exile community in the West, Chile) played his two shows, Tel Avivians couldn't stop talking about him. Apparently, it was very difficult for them to accept the fact that a famous artist coming to Palestine isn't interested in playing for Israelis in the Yarkon Park.

I easily got tickets for my friend and myself, and promised her that she will be with me the entire time and that there is nothing to stress out about. At the same time, I decided to choose the Israelis I would bring to Ramallah well, and not to spread the rumor among the regulars of the Nile Bar in Tel Aviv. It was clear to me that enthused Ashkenazi hipsters are not the kind of people I want to take under my wing and beyond the checkpoint.

Nicolas Jaar (gettyimages)
Nicolas Jaar (gettyimages)

So why did I decide to take a Jewish Mizrahi friend with me anyway, and insisted on speaking in Hebrew to her while we were queued up for the tickets? The simplest answer would be that Hebrew is my second language, I speak well and use it daily – much more often than Arabic, unfortunately. I felt it would be legitimate to want for Palestinians in Ramallah and the West Bank to understand this, to understand me and the complex life I lead, along with another 1.5 million Palestinians who have an Israeli citizenship. So I insisted and tried to act as if I didn't notice the sensitivity of the matter, and that it is better to eat grapes than fight with the guard. Until one friend who was queued up next to us firmly told us to stop.

In the large, half-empty yard of the ritzy hotel where the concert was held, I met many people I know, most of them min-aldakhil, meaning insiders. Yaani, Arab-Israelis. Us, to be brief. Because what do Ramallahns have to do with techno? or Nico (at least, that's what some of the locals claimed)? Anyone who couldn't get a ticket for Haifa ended up at the Ramallah show, and most Palestinian Tel Avivians came with an Israeli friend.

I even met Nowwar, my best friend from Ramallah, there. And unlike me, she said she was having a blast and that she felt free, as if she was abroad and not in this giant prison or under occupation and that just Nico's being there was a tremendous and rare occasion in of itself. Her words sunk in. I understood how privileged I was compared to her and that she was sick of everything, like everybody else. Just like that, everything.

Nicolas Jaar (gettyimages)
Nicolas Jaar (gettyimages)

What,  aren't we sick of the occupation? Of the institutionalized racism? Of the language the occupied our entire culture? And even though I like Hebrew (as a language set apart from the occupation), and even though I chose to speak it "taking a risk" in the middle of Ramallah, during a short, disappointing gig, I can't ignore the fact that Nowwar and other friends and people can't come to see Radiohead in the park pr Mira Awad in Cafe Bialik.

So yes, Israelis, take it in: you weren't invited to Nicolas Jaar in Ramallah or Haifa. You are not a welcome audience, the shows are not for you. And still, friendship is sometimes, for a limited time, above everything, above the occupation that is not only 50 years old, and above music and above politics.