Toilets I SawA Story by Evyn Rubinecology considerations, 3rd report from my trip to Israel In 2008, I made a trip to Israel, likely to be my once in a lifetime trip. The trip cost three thousand dollars and was paid for through the posthumous generosity of my friend Raven. The ostensive occasion of the trip was the wedding of an extended family member, but I also toured around the country, much too quickly. As a tourist, I had the usual reactions that tourists to Israel typically report. I became very prayerful. Some of the longest prayers I ever said in my life I said here and there in Israel, not only at the sacred Wall. I also loved the tourist dairy breakfasts, and all the food, and the people, the oldness, the sights and sounds. All of that liking was predictable, but there were two things I really liked that surprised me. I liked having a pocketful of Israeli change, examining the coins and learning what each one was. There were in my life small previous signs that I liked coins, but when I came home from Israel, I became a full fledged coin collector, wanting not investor coins, but the pocket change of the world, coins to learn from. The other big surprise like for me were the toilets. I saw (and used) the very oldest toilet I had ever seen, and I saw and used the most modern ecologically innovative toilets I'd ever seen. This encounter surprised me, as I say, and I had a big reaction of interest. The very old toilet was a two part model with the water cabinet displayed high up on the wall, and a long literal piece of chain was the activator. This was why, when I was a child, learning how to use the toilet, my mother would say, "Pull the chain," and "Did you pull the chain?" when the activator was in fact a handle, not a chain. In the olden days, the activator was a chain. The throne part of this old toilet had been retrofitted to have also a modern handle activator. Still, I found it remarkable. This surprise antique was located at the hostel in Jaffa, which was an old building, and had a beautiful old tile floor in the dorm in which I stayed, and old decorations on the walls. The surprising ecologically innovative toilet that I used was represented in all three of the cities I stayed in, Jaffa, Haifa, and Jerusalem, in modern buildings, and some older buildings, too. This was the dual flush toilet. In spite of my surprise, I knew immediately what was being offered: a choice of flush, a big flush or a small flush. Two triangles made of hard plastic showed themselves, emerging from the porcelain. One was black and one was white. The black was for flushing solid waste, and the white for liquid. Only if the activators had been brown and yellow, would the directions been more explicit. But to me it was obvious, and fascinating, and such a good idea. I had not travelled much and I was impressed by the phenomenon of being in another location. The kaleidoscope of sights and sounds was strongly with me, throughout my trip. But a gnawing from the territories was also with me, specifically from Gaza when I started think how great the dual flush toilets were, I was quite aware of a contrast. I had read about Gaza's deteriorating sewage infrastructure. I'd read about the calamitous collapse of an aged sewage cistern, causing a deadly avalanche on a village. I'd read about sickening seepage into the Mediterranean from recurring points of disrepair. When I got home from my trip, I did a ton of follow-up research. I looked up everything from a few street names I'd wondered about, to a delicious food item, to the artwork I saw in a little museum, to a patch of cemetery I noticed at the edge of a park, to the wedding customs that were observed in my family, to the coins and paper money I'd brought back in my pockets, to the old toilet and the dual flush toilets, as well as the contrasting sewage issues in neighboring Gaza. My trip was not over when I got home because its contents lingered, and served me as a writer, like the daffodils of the British poet. Apparently, the origin of the dual flush toilet was a matter of dispute, and rivalry between Israel and Australia. Probably, its invention was simultaneous, or approximately so, in more than one place, I thought, after examining numerous accounts. But the invention had clearly spread, in that part of the world, and not in the western hemisphere. In Israel, I learned, the new construction of a public building was required by law to have dual flush toilets. I saw these toilets offered for sale, online, by several distributers, and more than one manufacturer. I also saw a kit offered to retrofit an older toilet. I read forty reviews. I read a dozen reviews by plumbing professionals who assessed these toilets with appreciation. I also read two dozen reviews by lay people, mainly tourists who'd encountered the dual flush toilets in the course of their travels to a foreign country, and these reviews were mixed. Many of these reviewers were confused by the two activators and did not quickly figure out what was being offered - in contrast to my experience. **** As much as I liked the ecological toilets I saw in Israel, I was to the same extent distressed when I thought of the sewage crisis in adjacent Gaza. I refreshed my memory about the deadly collapse of infrastructure at Um Naser, in the northern Gaza strip. I read general statements about the perilous state of Gaza's sewage system, from assorted ecology groups. And most informative, I read a dozen papers by the UNWRA, the U.N. group that oversees (or oversaw) the welfare of Gaza as an occupied territory. I recall two things most vividly about the U.N. papers. First of all, they were sharply sounding an alarm about the decrepit state of the treatment plants, the cisterns, and other infrastructure. Seepage into and contamination of the Mediterranean shoreline was of the greatest concern. Evident and potential health risks were enumerated in detail. In their assessment, this was a massive accident already starting to happen. The UNWRA writers cautioned against an oversimplified analysis of what caused this deterioration and neglect. They explicitly cautioned against just pinning all the blame on Zionists or Israel, and their background history included the roles of England and Egypt, who failed to fulfill specific commitments. Israel, however, had interfered with Gaza's access to electricity, since Hamas had taken the reigns, and this affects the sewage treatment plants' hours of operation, among other things. However, the entirety of the sewage problem was not laid at the doorstep of Israel by the U.N. writers. In fact they made a point of this, contrary to their reputation. With regard to repairing the cisterns, such as the one that collapsed at Um Naser, the UN material said the cement and other construction material for this was all outside the blockade quotas, because of its emergency status. The UN writers posed and reposed the question, why hadn't these repairs taken place? The materials had all been gathered, outside the blockade quotas, so why weren't the repairs taking place? Their answer was a seemingly mystified shrug. They just did not know! Sincerely they didn't know? Their not knowing was a pose? I was astonished by the shrug that came through their words, and its image stayed with me. Then, in 2014, as I watched the tragedy of war unfold and play out -- the news on the screen -- I learned the answer, the meaning of the shrug, I am sure. During the summer of 2014, three Israeli students were kidnapped while hitchhiking at a bus stop. Then they were found dead, to the official applause of Hamas. Violence escalated. Israeli warplanes bombed targets in Gaza where weapons were stored and casualties mounted. Thousands of small imprecise rockets were launched at Israel, disrupting life near the border, with a much lower number of casualties. Then an Arab teen was found to have been murdered, burned to death, and the anguish of the situation continued to escalate. But so did the demands or pleas for truce, and restraint. And as this war was finally wrapping up it was reported that Israel had found "terror tunnels," built by Hamas, from Gaza into Israel, concealed, under the border. The screen showed these tunnels, broad, lighted, concrete corridors. I knew immediately what I was seeing. I was seeing tons of cement, having been mixed with sand and poured into spacious frames, well dug beneath the ground. I was seeing that material designated for sewage infrastructure had been hijacked for military purposes. I was seeing the reality behind the shrug of the UN writers. They couldn't say why the cisterns had not been repaired, the embankments not been shored up. On the screen, I was seeing the reality they could not articulate. I was seeing the price in civilian necessities forfeited, while prioritizing an extreme and military venture. Fanatics are willing to harm each other's children, and endanger their own. But Israelis and Palestinians also possess alternatives and antidotes to this fanaticism. Israelis and Palestinians and their supporters can find ways through these nightmares of harming, maybe can find a principled coexistence, or at least truce upon truce, to the benefit of both parties, and everyone who lives among them. © 2023 Evyn Rubin |
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Added on September 11, 2022 Last Updated on February 3, 2023 Tags: toilets, Israel, sewage, Gaza, ecology, dual flush toilets, infrastructure, co-existence Author
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