Waltz with Mesabaha

Arik and I had been up at the border for 2 weeks. The war had started a few months ago, when some Lebanese chefs made a big plate of hummus. Of course, we Israelis couln’t lose face – so we made a 4 tonne plate of hummus.

After that, things quickly got out of hand. A plate of hummus landed on the outskirts of Kiryat Shmona, hurting no one but causing damage to a cow (the milk had a strange flavor). Hizbullah immediately said they had nothing to do with it, and UNIFIL forces began to search for the culprits.

The IDF, as usual, had to retaliate – especially after the Second Lebanon War – and to regain its deterrence factor. They never believed in UNIFIL anyway. Just 30 minutes later, IDF planes were dropping plates of hummus on Beirut, Tyre and Sidon.

The next day, the Israeli Navy enforced a naval closure on Lebanon. After that, they began shelling suspected launch pads with chick peas from sea and from land. The pictures in the international media didn’t go down well. President Obama called for an immediate truce, but neither side would budge.

That’s when Arik and I were posted to a base near Metulla. The stench was amazing. Hizbullah hummus is deadly. It looks nice and creamy on the outside, but don’t let that fool you. Or should I say, ful you. Hehe, a little black humor in these dark days never hurt, right?

Their hummus is extremely acidic. Once it hits, all of us run to the bathroom with diareha. Arik thinks it’s the urine: “Those f-cking Arabs, they piss in the hummus. Why do you think it smells like ammonia?!?! And does that REALLY look like olive oil to you? Really?!?!”

He might be right. But I pity the Lebanese now, swimming in that chunky Israeli hummus from Abu Ghosh. I always wondered how that made Israeli-Arabs feel, knowing their hummus was being used against their brothers. But that’s the MidEast for ya, a real melting pot…

One day, Arik said he heard the air force was dropping leaflets warning people to leave a certain area before they bomb them with mesabaha. I told him that would be against the Geneva conventions, and Arik lashed back at me: “Oh! And I guess fondue is legal, right?!?!?!”

I couldn’t take Arik anymore. I couldn’t take this f-cking hummus war anymore. My pita helmet was so soggy already, it barely kept me safe.

But I knew I had to stay strong for my country. The whole State of Israel was in bowel movement. Jews and Arabs alike were projectile vomiting on the streets.

We all knew there was only one way to stop this war. And we knew Bibi was hesitant to use it, especially since the scientists at the Dimona plant said that the effects could spill over in to the northern part of Israel, if the weapon was eventually used.

But it had to be done. And after 2 weeks up north with Arik, Bibi gave the order. An F-16 hovered over Beirut, and at 12:00 exactly, just before lunch, Israel dropped a hard boiled egg on the capital of Lebanon.

To make sure the job was done, 10 Apache choppers spread chopped parsley and buckets of olive oil over the damages of what was left of the Paris of the Middle East.

It’s been a long road for me since then. The physical wounds are gone, and I’ve stopped shitting myself. But the mental recovery has been much more difficult. Everytime I see a plate of hummus, I get flashbacks. And run as fast as I can to the nearest crapper. Only to find out I need to do number one.

P.S. Despite the war trauma, I’m thinking of opening up (yet another) hummus joint in Tel Aviv, called “I Pity the Ful“. Whaddya say?

8 Responses to “Waltz with Mesabaha”

  1. January 10, 2010 at 05:27

    I remember this like it was yesterday. I was a supply clerk with the sixth fleet. We were docked in Haifa. I was notified to head back to the ship on the double. It was there that I was informed that the United States would provide armed support in the conflict.

    Already on the way were a shipment of three tons of roasted peppers, one ton of roasted garlic, and two tons of roasted pepper and roasted garlic.

    We knew these shipments could end the war, but we were hesitant to use them because neither Israelis nor Arabs actually put that shit in their hummus. Our fingerprints would be all over it. With our unilateral couscous battle raging in Iraq, our Arab relations were already at a tipping point.

    Luckily, because of Bibi’s decisive action with the egg, we were able to stay out of it. Thank you, Bibi, you egg-loving bastard, you.

    By the way, while you may not exactly grind it into your hummus, we do have a few tons of roasted garlic and roasted peppers… want any?

    • 2 Ami Kaufman
      January 10, 2010 at 08:49

      I’m glad we didn’t eventually have to use the garlic. The results would have been devastating.
      We could use the peppers and garlic for our upcoming saga, though, the Shakshuka Wars. So don’t chuck it yet, ok?

  2. 3 Shelly
    January 10, 2010 at 18:20

    Another one of Israel’s pea-brained schemes.
    But your depiction is so ridiculous that it’s brilliant!

  3. January 10, 2010 at 20:06

    Very Jonathan Safran Feuer’esque.

  4. January 11, 2010 at 00:14

    I’ve been encouraging for a hummus-wrestling match. A couple of Israeli and Lebanese girls dressed in bikinis fighting it out in a giant plate of hummus.

  5. January 11, 2010 at 03:14

    brilliantly caustically funny

  6. 7 Ann-Christine
    January 11, 2010 at 11:07

    Thanks, Ami. Very funny!

    • 8 Ami Kaufman
      January 11, 2010 at 11:42

      Mom – You mean chick-pea-brained?

      Jodi – Actually, I think Foer is very Kaufmanesque… 🙂

      Mo – Let’s do it. In Rajar! 😉

      Grandma – thanks!!!!!!!!!

      Ann – Thanks too!!!!

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January 2010

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