Sunday, November 10, Naher, near Acre
   Khitam has five sisters and five brothers, all but one of whom live in this area.  The sisters are Muheba, Naseba, Amira, Subheya and Zada; the brothers are Mohamed, Khaled, Yousef, Umar and Wahib.  Khaled lives in Houston, Texas but is here visiting.  A sixth brother, Mahmoud, died when he was young.  Khitam, at fifty, is the baby; all the brothers and sisters are older.
   Tuesday, after my Monday evening arrival, Khitam and I drove to Bethlehem.  A drive in occupied Palestine is not often a simple matter.  There are checkpoints, and one of  the worst, Qalandia, is near Khitam's home.  She is usually able to avoid it by going an indirect route when she is going to Jerusalem or in that direction, as we were, Tuesday.  By going around it, one doesn't avoid other checkpoints, just Qalandia, and that is worthwhile, worth the time saved, in spite of taking a longer route.
   Checkpoints and the wall make travel uncertain and often tedious for Palestinians.  There are traffic backups and drivers are delayed ten, twenty, thirty minutes or an hour in their travels, which makes appointments and meetings iffy.  Last year, Khitam had a regular teaching gig at a school that, without the wall, would have taken her five minutes to drive to; with the wall and an easy checkpoint crossing, it took her half an hour..
   We didn't hit a serious checkpoint until the edge of Bethlehem, where we had to show our passports.  The delay was brief, my passport more thoroughly examined than Khitam's.  Because she has a fair complexion, Khitam is often waved through checkpoints, the guards assuming she is Israeli and Jewish,  perhaps.
   Aida Camp is a cramped space with narrow roads that make Boston's inner city roads seem straight and wide.  With over 4,000 inhabitants, it is crowded, with houses, apartments and shops butting up against each other.  If you're new there and begin wandering, you could easily lose your way; there's little reason to the layout.  After all, it started as a tented refugee camp, which is now inhabited by second and third generation Palestinians.  Abdelfattah is one of those, though he no longer lives in the camp.
   Years ago, he decided children growing up in the camp needed an alternative to misery and anger.  He wanted them to choose life, not death either self-inflicted or by Israeli bullet or explosion.  To do this, he developed Alrowwad .  Its vision is: "A Palestinian Society free  of violence, respectful of human rights and values, where children and women are empowered on an educational and artistic level promoting self-expression and respect for human values and rights."  Abed speaks of "beautiful resistance, working to deepen the notion of belonging, volunteering, creativity and rights for youth and women, regardless of origin or religion…to create a comprehensive society using non-violent expression through education and the arts…building peace within Palestinians."
   It is impossible to summarize all Alrowwad does and what Abed hopes to do, but here is a sample of the objectives:
     - empower local communities, with a focus on youth and women, to develop self confidence and self-expression and a sense of belonging in "beautiful and non-violent ways," such as literacy and the arts;
     - break media stereotypes about Palestinians using performing and visual arts, international tours and by developing local and international support groups.

 An arts program provides training in dance, drawing, painting, music - including a choir - puppetry and games and activities with the Play Bus, which travels to Palestinian communities and camps to perform and teach.  In addition, a photography program "puts Palestinians behind the camera instead of alway s in front of it to show Palestinians and tell their stories through Palestinian eyes."  The program's philosophy toward women is that they are "the change makers in society."  Alrowwad strives to support women through programs through job training, physical fitness programs, training in traditional crafts such as embroidery and health education.
   There are currently facilities and training in computer literacy, photography, storytelling and creative writing.  There are plans for an expanded library.  Abed also wants to develop a school program that  integrates mainline students and students with developmental and physical disabilities; Alrowwad already has a support program for students with learning problems.  Finally, though I'm not sure the concept of "finally" exists for Abed, Alrowwad strives to be a green working space and encourages "roof agriculture" in Aida Camp.
   Tuesday afternoon, I did a workshop there with a combination of high school and university students plus a ten year old who was game for anything.  Some of them spoke English well, better than they thought; others were very hesitant.  Still, because the workshop focuses on imagination and improvisation, we could work together.  They were fun, not unlike a similar group would be in the States, other than the language.  We warmed up, did some improvisational and trust exercises, then, through a couple of improv games, began to create material.  There were several "stars of the show," but I have to say Abed, who participated, and the ten year-old were outstanding and quick to lead the others!  Two hours went by quickly.

   Abed drove Cotton and me to his home, in a village about ten minutes away.  The house, which took eight years to build, after three years to buy the land, is a beautiful combination of modern and traditional Arab.  Most of the furnishings are Palestinian designed, while the kitchen is a model of modern western design and the furniture that is not traditional Palestinian is the kind you'd find in many American homes.
   Abed's wife, Nahel, is a bright, tidy hard-working mother of five.  Her English is fluent, she is gracious and she has a lively wit.  The children - Kanaan, Adam, Ahmad, Rana and Sana - are bright and lively, well-behaved - my mother would have been impressed - and fun.  They were excited to see their father home, especially the two girls, and he to see them.  Khitam, who had stayed to watch the workshop, joined us with a bowl of ma'loubi she had prepared for me the night before, a delicious dish with chicken, rice and vegetables cooked together.  We sat down for a "light supper" of ma'loubi, eggplant and yoghurt, two kinds of rice, lamb, two salads and, would you believe, corn-on-the-cob; for dessert, we had kanafeh, a rich, syrupy traditional Palestinian dessert.  Nablus, a Palestinian village - probably a city, now - is famous for its kanafeh, but ours was from a local sweets shop.
   Lots of good talk after dinner and a long rich day.  Alrowwad is a remarkable program developed by a remarkable and generous man, now a good friend.  A Palestinian home is a center of love and hospitality.  No one goes away hungry, and if the hosts have their way, no one goes away until he or she has to leave.