Teaching teachers and smoking cars

It's Thursday morning and chilly. I left chilly damp Maine for warm dry Palestine and am now in chilly damp Palestine which probably means Maine is warm and dry. Such is life. Yesterday was what we call an interesting day. "Interesting" usually means: "I can't think of the right word to describe it," and so it means in this case. We headed north for Ramallah, where Khitam was going to be working with kindergarten teachers and I was going to visit The Friends School where I taught some workshops years ago and where our friend Duha works. We got to the Early Childhood Resource Center where Khitam would meet the teachers to find no teachers. The director saw Khitam, greeted her, then said: "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be meeting the teachers in Jerusalem!" Khitam had forgotten the workshop was not in Ramallah! So we said a quick good-bye, got in the car, and Khitam raced to Jerusalem. I'll add that "racing to Jerusalem" is the way most people drive here, so there was nothing unusual about the speed we were traveling, unless you were sitting where I was. Actually, she's a very good driver, she understands how to drive around here, and I've gotten comfortable with the speed and sometimes wacky driving patterns here, if they are "patterns." She was only ten minutes late to the workshop. There were thirteen teachers in the workshop, ranging from a couple who looked to be eighteen or twenty to several who were in their forties and fifties. The average age was probably early to mid-thirties. Most were "covered," meaning they had head scarves and dresses or robes to their ankles; one was veiled except for her eyes and forehead; only one wasn't covered, and she was one of the older ones and a hoot. Within fifteen minutes, Khitam had them laughing and feeling like an ensemble, though few knew each other and none knew Khitam. She has an engaaging way with teachers, coaxing, nudging and teasing them into taking risks. There was good energy in the group and she harnessed it for learning. They made puppets, then experimented with ways of using them. Khitam was teacher, coach and seamstress; she advised, sewed, coaxed and chatted with them while they worked. The results were exciting to the participants; to me, seeing how good Khitam is at teaching and listening. In the States, this sort of workshop would be offered in school. Here, they're still developing school curriculum and figuring out ways to enable teachers to get the training they need, a role Khitam often fills. There is something enticing about scarves that obscure. Primarily they draw your attention to the eyes of the woman is veiled and often those eyes are dark and alluring, highlighted with kohl - check the spelling of that one. So it was at Khitam's workshop and I thought it would be a good casting call for a production of "The Arabian Nights." After the workshop, which lasted four hours, we returned to her place. In the early evening we headed back to Jerusalem for another dance performance and then dinner with some friends. Khitam's neighbor, a recent widow, was in the back seat with bags of "stuff" she was taking to her place in Jerusalem so the car was pretty full. On the edge of the city, the car began to smoke! Khitam pulled over to the inside lane of a busy three lanes on our side of the highway. She put a triangle behind the car and we pondered our next move, though "move" is an ironic choice. The only thing I know how to do is check the tires, not the problem, and check the oil, also not the problem. Having exhausted my automotive know-how, we decided to check the water - coolant? - and it was low, so Khitam poured some drinking water in, hoping the car was just thirsty. The water disappeared pretty quickly. Then a car stopped behind us and the driver got out and walked toward us. Khitam's eyes lit up, she shouted, "Ahlan!", which means "welcome." It was Tarek, her mechanic whose garage is just down the hill from her place. He checked the engine, found a leaky or broken hose and told her to drive it slowly home, stopping to cool it once or twice on the way. Our savior! He took our passenger and her stuff and we headed slowly for home. We got to a familiar place, on the edge of Jerusalem, and Khitam pulled over to give the car a rest. We pondered our next move. Go home? Leave the car for a while and go to the dance, then go to dinner? Wait for the car to cool? We decided to leave the car and head into the old city. Khitam asked the proprieter of the store we were parked in front of if she could leave her car, and when he agreed, we locked the car and headed for town. A cab driver spotted us, did a quick u-turn, and we got in. The driver spoke fluent English, unusual in this part of town: "Where you from?" "Maine." "Maine...way up there. I've been in Boston." "You've been in the States?" "San Jose, from the seventies to the nineties. I came back here , started a business refurbishing used items, then Chinese stuff started appearing, and I started losing money. Now I drive a cab, been doing it for several years. The wall doesn't help." He let us off near the Damascus Gate and our friend Cotton's hotel. We decided not to go to the dance because Cotton and Paul were soon to be picked up by Estaphan and we needed a ride, so we walked to Cotton's hotel and rode with Estaphan a few minutes later. A little biographical language. Estaphan, married to Laurie, an American he met in college and lovely mother of a one-year-old and a three-year-old, just resigned a major position as an advisor to the Palestinian Authority. He traveled with the President, Mahmoud Abbas, and did economic development planning. Paul Parker is a professor of religion at Emery College in the Chicago area and is on sabbatical studying Christian religions in Palestine and Israel. Khitam, as you know, is a Palestinian creative arts therapist and Cotton is an Episcopal minister and former psychiatric therapist. The conversation got around to Palestine pretty quickly after some get acquainted chat. Some samples: Cotton: I am fed up with American tourists coming here on Christian pilgrimages. I was talking to a couple yesterday. I asked them if they'd been to the West Bank. Oh no, they said, too dangerous. I asked them where they thought Christ would go if he were here today, who he would want to help. They just don't get it. They don't see the Palestinians. Paul: There are 500,000 Christian spouses of immigrant Jews living in Israel. Needless to say, that's not publicized by the goernment. Most of them go to churches where the liturgy is in Hebrew. I came here to study Christian communities in Israel and Palestine. I thought I would just study the major groups but I quickly gave up on that. There are so many denominations here: Roman Catholic, Eastern Catholic like the Maronites from Lebanon; Greek and Armenian Catholics; Greek, Russian and Armenian Orthodo; Egyptian Coptic; Episcopal; Lutheran... Estaphan: I think the we, the Palestinians, are at our lowest point now. We have tried everything. Our leadders do not want to risk losing their positions, their rights. Look, I've traveled with the President in his plane with his following. The Israelis can limit that freedom whenever they want to. He has a three month visa. Three months! He has to get it renewed every three months or he can't travel! Khitam: I don't believe anything the Palestinian Authority says. W'Allah, anything! Until they do something that makes me believe in them, I'm not going to pay any attention to politics. I love my work. I get up, I go to do my work and I am happy. I love working with the teachers, the children, using art with them to help them learn, help them grow. That's what makes me happy. I love Palestine, my country. Estaphan: We're paying for the occupation. The Palestinians are doing the Israelis work for them. Cotton asked me if we could get 5,000 people to demonstrate against the occupation in Ramallah. I told him no, the Palestinian police wouldn't allow it. Paul: Maybe it would be better if we stopped the aid, all the aid. People would die, but the Israelis, the occupiers, would have to deal with that. Maybe that would end the occupation. I know it sounds cruel; it is cruel, but as long as we pay and the Palestinians pay, why would the Israelis stop what they're doing? Cotton: Look, the money is harder to come by. Countries no longer want to fund UNRWA (United Nations Relief Works Agency that has been supporting Palestinian camps since 1948). There's a hospital in Gaza that will close if the UN can't support it. I give them money, but maybe you're right. Maybe that's the only way to get the Israelis to take responsibility for the occupation. Estaphan: As long as outsiders pay, what's the motivation for the Israelis to change their policies? A very interesting and fun evening, except for Laurie and Estaphan at the end when their little boy couldn't stop crying. The good news is the car is back, fixed, and the Tarek, the mechanic did the work for nothing. "You are our sister," he told Khitam when he delivered the car.