Goats Yogurt
A while back, when Lebanon was invaded by Isreal inorder to shut down Hizbollah, I went to a festival. I was carrying a large Palestinian flag and a Italian peace flagm both on the same pole, I had been at a demonstration calling for a ceasefire earlier in the day.  Within minutes of passing the festival gates, a Palestinian man came with his family to say hello, thinking i was
Palestianian. He then talked ernestly about the war and condemned (Isreali Prime Minister) Olmert for the attacks. All the time waving his raspberry yoghurt precariously over his child. " My family all live around there, we are not Hizbollah but Israeli bombs don't care".  I thought about the bombs dropping in Lebanon and the yoghurt about to fall on the little girl's head and said nothing about the it. Stumped for anything to say I watched as the yoghurt dropped and as the little girl cried out, before saying goodbye.    
            With yoghurt on the brain I decided to head for a stall before joining my friends. While vainly enquiring if they had "any goats?", i was approached by a elderly gentlemen who was suprised by a latino trying to poke his eye out with a 8 ft poll with the palestinian and, what looks like the gay liberation flag on it. I apologised and we fell into conversation about middle eastern yoghurt. I know nothing about it and fessed up to being latino, whereupon he told me about middle eastern food to the point i thought he was going to invite me to his restaurant. When he reliesed that he had lost me - he started to explain.
"I was stationed there, after the war. I was there when they blew up the King David Hotel.". This revelation threw me. To meet someone who was at an actual historical event intrigued me, so i kept asking him questions. It was when he was talking about the death of his collegues in the rubble, that I realised that it had been one of the major moments of his life. He had been on duty that day and was on the street when the hotel exploded. Fifty five years later he could still see it clearly in his mind.
      Sadly my interrorgation was cut short by the arrival of his children, with their children in tow. I smiled and said goodbye, thinking of the British and Palestian families, both who survived the mess of the formation of Israel to continue their lives, one able to return to their homeland in 1948, one not.