Toujan and Khitam's family

     Ten years ago, Toujan and Amneh, two fourteen year-old Palestinian girls, came to Maine with Khitam to  participate in our International Teen Theater Camp.  The whole experience was a struggle for them in the beginning and Khitam had her hands full playing mother.  As the camp progressed, the girls began to feel more at home, and by the end of the camp, they were thriving.  Five years ago, when I was in Palestine visiting Khitam, we visited Toujan and her family.  She had finished secondary school and wanted to go to college in the States.  She asked me what I thought she should do, and I suggested she start college here and do the best work she can so there would be a chance of getting financial aid if she still wanted to study in the States later.  I'm pretty sure that wasn't the answer she wanted to hear.
     As usual, here in Palestine, our visit included a big meal with most of Toujan's family.  Her brothers spoke pretty good English and her father spoke some, and with my less than mediocre Arabic, some gestures and a bit of mime along with the efforts of the whole group we all managed to understand each other pretty well.  That was the last time I saw Toujan.  I never did see Amneh again.  Khitam saw her a few times after they returned here from our summer camp.  Her parents arranged an early marriage for her with a guy Khitam didn't think much of.  The last she heard was that Amneh, sixteen, was pregnant and married.
     Last Sunday, we set off for a workshop in East Jerusalem.  We left early because Khitam wanted to swim before the workshop.  She belongs to a health club with a pool in West Jerusalem.  She also had some errands to do and had told one of her former students who was graduating from al Quds (Jerusalem) Open University that she would try to come to the ceremony.  We headed there, first, but soon discovered the university was not so easy to find.
     Then Khitam drove into Beit Hanina, a Palestinian neighborhood the size of a village and part of Jerusalem.  We must have asked at least half a dozen people if there was a college in the neighborhood and most replied they didn't know of one.  A couple of people thought they might have heard of one but didn't know where it was.  Finally Khitam gave up: "Well, I tried.  She should have given me directions.  I tried to call her but she didn't pick up.  I know she's busy, but she should answer her phone to give me directions!"  With that, I thought we were headed to the pool, but Khitam decided to give it one more try when she saw some high school students coming down the road.  She drove up to them and asked if they knew of a college nearby.  The first group didn't, but the next did and pointed down the road, past their school.
     We hurried on and sure enough, it was al Quds Open University.  Khitam parked, got out of the car and said: "Come on!"  She asked one of the students where the ceremony was and he led us there.  It was upstairs in a classroom building.  The door was closed and a student with programs told us to go in.  We did and sat down.  The room was a small lecture hall, and had a stage.  There were probably sixty or seventy people inside; on stage, a young man was defending his thesis while a lovely young woman was at a laptop, running his power point presentation.  On the side of the stage sat three professors: two women, one of whom with head scarf, and a man in a suit.

Toujan with her mother

     Khitam whispered something to me, but I didn't hear.  "What?" I whispered back.  "That's Toujan."  "Who?"  "Toujan.  Toujan."  Then I recognized her.  The lovely student running the power point was Toujan, the Palestinian fourteen-year-old who had come to Maine with Khitam ten years ago and whom I had last seen  five years ago in East Jerusalem where she lived with her family.  SHE was the "former student" whose graduation Khitam had promised to attend.  I was stunned.  Khitam smiled and Toujan, who had been looking at us, smiled and I had to restrain myself from laughing and calling out her name.  Then Khitam pointed out her mother and father in the audience.  We smiled at each other while I waited impatiently for the presentation to end.

Toujan's mother, Toujan, her nephew, father, Nidal, Khitam, Al

     When the young man finished, the audience got up and moved to the hall or stood around in the room talking.  Toujan and her family joined Khitam and me in the hall.  We hugged and talked; I felt like an uncle whose niece has just shown up after being lost for years.  It was a treat to meet Toujan's parents again and talk a little with them; to see one of her brothers again, and also to meet her fiancé, Nidal, who graduated four or five years ago.  Toujan not only graduated and is engaged to Nidal, planning to get married next spring.  She also has her own clothing design business.  Talking with her, a lovely twenty-four year old woman with her own business; meeting her family again and celebrating her success with them, and meeting her bright handsome Palestinian fiancé,
Nidal, these are very high points in this visit to Palestine!

Amira

     We went to the healthy club next.  I had a cappuccino in the snack bar and read Romeo and Juliet (Don't miss it in July on the Brunswick mall!) while Khitam swam; then we stopped at a very small corner store for a scrumptious falafel sandwich in Arabic bread (pita) with tahini, tomatoes, lettuce, a few fries all crammed in with the  fresh falafel, still hot.  I could barely eat half of it; I sometimes feel like I'm always eating here!

Naseba's  granddaughter and daughter-in-law

     And speaking of "always eating here," yesterday we drove north to the Galilee area where Khitam is from and where her five sisters and four of her five brothers live.  We picked up sister Amira, the mother of Khawla, whom we met in Nevi Shalom, my first Sunday here.  Khawla is an actress, which I mentioned in an earlier blog.  After picking up Amira, we drove to the home of Naseba, another of Khitam's sisters, where we had lunch.  LUNCH?!  Joined by the wife and daughter of Naseba's son, we had mloukia, one of my favorite Arab dishes, made with chicken and spices and mloukia, a local plant that is a little like spinach; a home made rice pilaf; kafta, a ground lamb or beef dish, prepared in a variety of ways; friend potatoes; salad; Arabic bread and a spicy garlic based dip; labneh (yoghurt) and I think that's all…"all"!?

Naseba

     I have met most of Khitam's family but can't remember who many of them are, there are so many cousins and nephews and nieces from her five brothers and five sisters.  It was a treat to see Naseba and Amira again, and I remember meeting the wife and daughter of Naseba's son as well as the son, who was working yesterday; there was plenty of food left for him after work!

Khitam, Naseba and Amira, the three sisters.  Chekov beware!

     We left Naseba's and drove to Nahef, a village of a few thousand (a town in Maine) where Zada, the youngest of Khitam's four older sister's lives.  Zada is the sister Khitam is closest to; Khitam was seventeen when their mother died.   Zada stepped in to help her through the rest of her teen years.  When we arrived at Zada's, she was alone.  The four of us talked for a while, then I left them to so they could catch up in Arabic and not worry about my understanding.  Later, Ahmad and I went for a long walk around the village.  By the time we returned, the house was full: two of Zada's sons were here, Nasri with his wife Zuzu and two daughters; one of Zada's daughters was here with two sons; there were also other visitors I didn't know.  It was a typical evening when Khitam is in the village, and maybe a typical evening anytime.  Later we had some dinner, which I didn't need after the "lunch" we had had that afternoon.  Eventually, people went home with their children and then it was Zada with Khitam and Ahmad watching a Lebanese show on television.  Eventually, we went to bed.  I woke early to birds chirping outside my window where roses are blooming.  Spring in Palestine.