Sunday evening, 10 November, Addahya
   Back at Khitam's house on the "other side" of the wall and on the edge of Jerusalem, it's been another sunny day with weather like the best of Maine's in September.  We drove here this afternoon from Nahef, where we spent the weekend.  On the way back, we stopped at the Israeli village of Ahihud which was once the Palestinian village, al Birweh, where Khitam's family lived before the 1948 war when they had to flee.  We walked around the area where her family's house stood, found the remains of the mill where the olives were ground by a large stone (al ma'sara) to make olive oil, and then found one standing building, the boy's school, which her eldest brother attended along with the great Palestinian poet, Mahmoud Darwish.  Khitam called her sister Naseba who explained the location of the olive press and the school as if she had been there a few days ago.

One of two classrooms at the school in al Birweh

The old boys school in al Birweh

   But now, back to Alrowwad, where I spent two more days, Wednesday and Thursday, as did my friend Cotton.  Wednesday, Alrowwad is usually closed, so Abed had most of the day off.  We drove to the village of Beit Umar, where we met Jamal Maqbal and his wife and little boy.  Cotton was delivering a contribution to help Jamal pay for his heat this winter.  He had met Jamal through friends who had been involved in West Bank issues before he was.  Jamal's family lost their land in Palestine in the 1948 war; he has been in Israeli prison, and now the Israeli government has issued a demolition order for his house, the house he built.  He has taken it to court and received a delay.  He doesn't know what will happen if anything.
   There was tea, sweets, coffee, more sweets that we had to decline.  Jamal's wife is covered, meaning her hair is covered with a scarf and she wears a long dress to cover her body.  She speaks good English.  She studied computer science in college but as the mother of five children is occupied at home, and there's no guarantee she could find a job if she sought one.  She's a bright cheerful woman, busy at home but welcoming to friends and strangers with that Palestinian hospitality I continue to encounter.  While we talked, their two older boys came home from school.  The eldest, a senior, was in Maine last summer in Seeds of Peace Camp.  I asked how he liked it.
   "I loved it, loved being somewhere else, seeing new places, meeting new people.  When we had talks between Israelis and Palestinians, there were rules, that you had to respect the other people, no matter how much you disagreed with them.  It didn't really work.  People would get upset, yell and in the end, go back to their side.  But I liked meeting people from Afghanistan, Pakistan and Egypt, people who were dealing with the same problems we deal with here.  I had new experiences, saw new places, made new friends from other countries.  It was great."
   Abdelfattah does not work with Israelis.  He believes that Israelis who want to help make peace between the two sides should work with Israelis, their own people, to convince them.  There is a skewed view of negotiations between the two sides, discussions of the two sides, compromise between the two sides.  "Skewed" because one side is the occupier and has the power, the other side is occupied and has no power.  Abed is working to empower Palestinian youth and women so they can make good choices for their lives and work as he does to further Palestinian self-respect and rights.

   On our way back to Alrowwad, we stopped in Bethlehem at a little restaurant that serves mezza and chicken, that's it.  Abed said it's the best chicken in Bethlehem.  Now, chicken roasted outside over an open fire is common, but not this chicken.  It was succulent and the mezza was bountiful: hummus, baba ghanoush, a delicious garlic dip, two salads and more.  My hands were greasy, my stomach was full and before Cotton or I could ask for a bill, Abed had paid for the meal.  You have to be quick over here if you're going to share expenses with your host.
   Back to Alrowwad to teach a workshop and talk to some of the staff while Abed had a lively board meeting.  After that, we met Mazin Qumsiyeh, a biologist who taught in the States for many years and then decided it was time to return to Palestine, so he and his wife are back and he writes a regular blog on Palestine - Israeli issues and politics.  He is a small wiry man who talks rapid fire.  He is enthusiastic, outspoken and very interesting.  We went out for a snack before returning to Abed's and didn't have much time to spend with Mazin, but I had the feeling that if we had had time, we would have stayed there for at least another hour talking about Palestine.

   One more day teaching at Alrowwad, then we said good-bye to Abed and his family.  Nahel and the kids left in the morning for school in Jerusalem and Abed was off to France for conferences and then Amman before returning home later this month.  We drove into Jerusalem, had pizza and beer, then dropped Cotton at his hotel and came back to Addahya for the night.

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.

Saturday, 9 November, 6:00 PM in Acre, Palestine/Israel

   It's time for evening prayer.  I'm sitting on the floor in a child's bedroom in Zada's house in Nahef, a Palestinian village near Acre.  This is where Khitam's family is centered, though I sometimes think she is their center, she, the errant one.  A little background for those who don't know Khitam.

   Khitam Edelbi is a Palestinian friend of mine.  We met through a mutual friend, Claudia, who lives in California.  Claudia taught for a year at International College in Beirut, Lebanon, in the very early seventies, before Lebanon's civil war began.  I was teaching there, so we met.  Decades later, I called her, and as we were catching up on what each other had been doing for the past thirty years, I told her about my work in theater and education and she said: "Oh, I wish you and my friend Khitam could meet."  She told me that Khitam was doing creative and healing work with kids in Jerusalem using theater, so I suggested inviting her to come to Maine to visit our summer theater program for kids.  Khitam came for two or three or four weeks - I don't remember how long - we became good friends, and she returned for several summers.  That led to her applying to Lesley University in Cambridge to complete her BA which led her to stay on to get an MA in creative arts therapy which she did.
   Khitam returned to Palestine and began doing creative arts therapy with kids and teachers.  I began visiting her, doing some workshops where I could and observing her work.  She has developed an excellent reputation and is busy mostly working with teachers.  Whenever I get to observe her in action, I am wowed by her ability to connect very quickly with early education teachers who have had no experience with her work.  They quickly trust her and begin taking the kind of chances in her workshops that she wants them to help their students learn.  Khitam, my Palestinian sister, is a wise and witty friend and she is an excellent teacher.
   Now, I am back in Palestine, visiting Khitam and doing some workshops.  The muezzin has finished his evening call to prayer, which was short - the long ones seem to come in the morning, around 4:30, but I have become inured to those after being wakened the first couple of nights here.  I'll return to Zada's house and Khitam's family, but I want to go back to my arrival.
   I flew over on Alitalia, which I thought might offer good Italian food to compensate for the lack of leg room in tourist class.  I was wrong.  I make better pasta and serve better Italian wine!  I flew out of Boston to Rome, sleeping at least two and a half hours en route.  I had about the same amount of time in the airport in Rome to wander in a daze, order a coffee and get just that, coffee, instead of expresso which is what I thought I'd get.  I didn't know Italians served "coffee."  I recommend expresso, based on the coffee I had.  It was okay but when in Rome…  My flight to Tel Aviv was without incident and Khitam met me at the airport, where I cleared security and customs without incident.
   In an hour, we were at Khitam's house - half a house - where she and Ahmad live close to THE WALL, which you see from her house, two blocks away.  She fed me too much food - it's always too much food…my favorite comment on food here is from Lawrence in The Seven Pillars of Wisdom.  He's talking about an Arab sheikh named Auda Abu The (I'm not sure of the transliteration; his name is pronounced Owduh aboo tie): "His hospitality was overwhelming except to the very hungry," or words to that effect.  I went to bed around 11:30 which was 4:30 in Arrowsic, Maine, so even though I was tired, my body refused to sleep for a while, and not long after it did, the muezzin in the mosque near Khitam's decided it was time for me to wake, so he called: "La illa…"
   Tuesday, Khitam gave me a ride to the Aida Camp for Palestinian refugees in Bethlehem.  Over 4,000 people live in the camp, about half of them under 18, in an area with no green space.  It's not a tent camp, though it started as one.  It has been built into a small village.  On the edge of the camp is The Alrowwad Cultural and Theatre Society (ACTS), founded in 1998 by Abdelfattah Abusrour, a remarkable man.  My friend from college, Cotton, was there with Abed; Cotton was doing some filming for a short film he's making on people in Palestine.
  Abed grew up with his family in Aida Camp.  His family had fled there from Palestine.  A bright boy, Abed became interested in theater and painting and writing at an early age.  He also did well in school and eventually went to Paris to pursue and gain a Ph.D. in biology.  Even there, while studying, his interest in the arts continued and he and some fellow students developed a theater.  After graduation, he worked as a biologist for a while, but he missed the arts, especially theater, and Palestine, so he returned to Aida Camp in 1998, found a job with a pharmaceutical company and a teaching position with Bethlehem University and founded Alrowwad, which began in his parents' home, where he was living.

Al, Abed and Cotton

   Eventually, he and Alrowwad moved out of his parents' house.  He began to build a home for the program and has managed to raise enough funds for a building on the edge of the camp that houses pre-school programs, a library, a computer lab, a photography lab, a theater space for theater and dance and Palestine's first program for women's fitness.  He is now trying to raise funds to replace worn out computers, expand the library and open up space for preschool education.  At the same time, he is touring in a new play about the Palestine - Israel debacle, and he is traveling to France to try to raise interest there in a creative partnership with Alrowwad and then on to Amman, Jordan for a conference on education and the arts before returning home later this month, where his wife, Nahel, an elementary school teacher and assistant principal in Jerusalem, and his five kids, Kanaan, Adam, Ahmad, Rafa and Safa will be eagerly awaiting him.
   As I was saying, I'm here at Khitam's sister Zada's house.  Zada and Zaza and her sister Hinadi who is married to Zada's son, Inas are in the kitchen working on dinner for who-knows-how-many and that worries me because Khitam and I had a good late lunch in Acre.  Maybe I'll find room for a bite or two!

They also serve who only sit and wait.

I am leaving tonight for two weeks in Palestine and will be blogging while there, hopefully with photos.  Check it out if you're interested.  Al
                                             

Leaving

This will be my last post.  I leave tonight, flying from Tel Aviv to New York, then up to Boston, bus to Portland, Maine and a ride home with Maine and the world's leading jazz whistling clarinet player, Brad Terry.  It's been a rich visit, and I'll have to sift through the riches for a while once back to separate the gold from the fool's gold.

   This morning, I went with Nasser, the middle school teacher I've written about, and some of his fellow teachers to get materials for the plays he's presenting later this week.  He's excited because the Palestinian Authority is sending representatives to see the play and also because he just heard from a Palestinian NGO that they want him to do some workshops with counselors who will be working with special needs kids, and they want to sponsor his summer camp, a project he has done on his own in the past.  I think he expects that some of the volunteer help this summer will come from people he trains in the workshops he conducts.  This is one very hard working and loving man, someone you would be happy to have your child learning with.  I worked with a group of his students on a play they will be performing Thursday while Nasser worked with another group on some scenery.  An older teacher was also working with my group, and the dynamic was interesting, to say the least, especially given my little bit of Arabic is not close to good enough to teach or direct using Arabic.  The older teacher, probably younger than I but I like to think he looks older, was determined to tell the kids how to do each part.  The kids had their own ideas but knew better than to argue with a teacher who has a reputation for temper tantrums.  In the end, we worked things out, and the kids got to use their ideas, most of which were better than...you catch my meaning.
   Most of the teachers in the school smoke, which makes for smokey hallways and is a terrible example for the kids.  Nasser doesn't smoke, and a couple of others I have met don't.  Though there is a law against smoking in school, it is ignored at Nasser's school.  Why doesn't he do something about it?  I think it's a fight not worth his energy, given how many other places his energy goes.
   The kids are engaging.  Nasser is working mainly with a group of kids who are challenged by family issues, learning disabilities, hyperactivity and anger management.  They know they can trust him and they do very good work for and with him.  They're taking pride in their plays, are working hard on them, with the usual difficulty settling down in the beginning which is not limited to Palestinian early teens!  I think their plays will be a success, surprising people who see them, and the kids will gain confidence from doing them.  Several of the kids I'd like to bring over to one of our summer programs.  Hmmm, I wonder...
   This afternoon, I went into Jerusalem with Khitam to watch her work with a group of girls at a girls middle school, girls who have been identified by the social worker and principal as needing special help, again because of learning difficulties, problems at home, family issues, much like Nasser's group.  Several of the girls couldn't be there so the group was small today.  Khitam got them playing, interacting, laughing, and I could see the whole girls beneath whatever problems they have.  Khitam and I talked about "doing what one can do" on the drive home, recognizing that this work is a good step but cannot by itself solve problems.
   Home to pack, after a tedious drive here because of traffic backed up at the Qalandia check point.  We had a good final dinner and more good talk and laughter before leaving.  We'll talk more on the drive to the airport.  I'll post some photos when I get back and write some reflections on the time here if they've come into focus.

Change maker at Alrowwad (continued)

   Abdelfattah does not believe mixing Israeli and Palestinian kids helps the Palestinian cause, and I tend to agree with him.  I like programs like Seeds of Peace, but I wonder what they accomplish.  As he says, when kids get together, they have fun.  If they come from opposing sides of a conflict, as is the case with Seeds of Peace and programs like it, and if the program is well managed, as Seeds of Peace certainly is, the kids will have fun.  However, when such programs end, the young people go back to their home environments.  In the case of Israeli and Palestinian youth, the Israeli youth return and when they're of age, go into the army.  They are the soldiers who man - and woman - the road blocks.  The Palestinian youth return to confront those roadblocks.  Abdelfattah related a recent story of a Seeds of Peace Palestinian youth who was killed near a road block by Israeli soldiers and a facebook message from a Seeds of Peace Israeli youth saying, "You can relax now that I'm carrying a gun," or words to that effect.
   I'm relating a story I heard, so it's third hand, and I can't attest to its accuracy.  However, Israeli youth do go into the army and do confront Palestinians in an occupation that has gone on for decades, and Palestinian youth are confronted with roadblocks and armed occupying Israeli soldiers daily.  When there is an incursion into Palestinian territory on the West Bank or in Gaza, it is Israeli soldiers, some of whom may have been in Seeds of Peace and similar programs, who are driving the tanks, carrying the guns, killing the Palestinians.  While talking with Abdelfattah, I recalled Stokely Carmichael during the civil rights struggle saying white people who want to help should work with white people.  Abdelfattah's point is that: Israelis who want to help should work convincing Israelis that the occupation is unjust and that Palestinians have a right to their own state.  
   "On the ground" here, it is difficult - no, impossible - to defend American policy regarding Israel and Palestine.  I do not hear people calling for the demise of Israel, nor do I think they're being careful what they say around me.  On the contrary, I think they're speaking their mind and at first may be surprised I'm listening and mostly agreeing.  The likelihood of a Palestinian state's being established diminishes daily.  Israeli settlements have carved Palestine into an archipelago of city states, not only unconnected but often separated by roadblocks as well.  The current map brings 
no hope to Palestinians.
   However, there is hope in the work Abdulfattah is doing.  There is hope in the work Khitam is doing with teachers and students in Palestine, using the arts to help them grow, to help them teach, to help them heal.  There is hope in the work Nasser is doing with his students in the middle school a few blocks from Khitam's house.  Still, the occupation is depressing.  
   Driving into Jerusalem today, after I worked with Nasser for a couple of hours, Khitam commented on a checkpoint we pass through every day we go to Jerusalem: "One day, three lanes are open, one day two, most days only one.  We never know what to expect."  A few days ago, on our drive into Jerusalem, Khitam said: "I am lucky to go through Hezma checkpointI don't have to go through Qalandia," which is close to her home and tedious, at best, to pass through.  Then her eyes lit up, she shook her head and said: "Did you hear what I just said?  I said I was lucky to go through the other checkpoint.  'Lucky!'  I can't believe I said it, that I am lucky to go through a checkpoint!"  She told Abdelfattah and we laughed about it, ironically.  Abdelfattah's point: Don't get used to the occupation, however long it lasts.  
   I leave tonight.  I'm in Jerusalem now, at the Hebrew University, sitting in a cafe while Khitam swims and has a sauna, to take care of her back.  "I have to take care of myself so I can do my work." I agree and tell her to be sure to do just that.
   

Change maker at Alrowwad

   "We don't have the luxury of despair, but the steadfast hope that we can make a change for our

children and the generations to come that we can be proud of."

   Those are the words of Abdelfattah Abusrour, founder and director of Alrowwad, which means "Pioneers for life," located in the Aida Refugee Camp in Bethlehem.  Alrowwad is remarkable, both the place and its programs.  It was started by volunteers in the refugee camp where Abdulfattah was born and raised along with 5,000 other Palestinians, young and old.  Five years later, it registered as a non-profit organization and two years later, Abdulfattah, with a Ph.D. in biology, quit his job to work full time directing Alrowwad.  Today, eight years later, Alrowwad owns a three story building with photo labs, theater and meeting space, physical education facilities, a library for kids and playroom for young children, sewing equipment for training, computer lab, video studio and office space.  

   "Everyone is a change maker.  Nobody has the right to say: "I can't do anything," because every day that comes will continue to be worse than the day that goes.  This is not a heritage that anyone can be proud to leave to our children and the generations to come."  Abdulfattah studied in France, is fluent in French, English and Arabic; when Khitam and I met him, he was dressed in corduroy pants, shirt and blue crewneck sweater.  I didn't notice his shoes.  He looked like a prep school teacher or headmaster, relaxing.  Normally, I don't notice these details.  I mention them here because so many people in the States assume that Palestinians are not people.  Israelis are people like us; Palestinians are "other," not people like us.  Everyone I've met here gives that assumption the lie, and I'd put Abdulfattah at the head of the line.  He is bright, articulate, devoted, energetic and non-violent.

   Here are some of his thoughts in our conversation:

   "We need education, open education with discussion and disagreement.  We need to learn how not to get used to the occupation and how to be non-violent in our resistance."

   "We can't wait for miracles, for Obama or Netanyahu or even Allah to solve our problems.  We are responsible."

   "We don't have the luxury of despair, of saying it's everyone else's fault."

   "The occupation prohibits commerce, relationships, family gatherings, even love."

   "I don't care if people sleep in comfort.  Dignity comes before comfort."

   "We want partners, not simply donors.  We are not helpless."

   "We have remained independent, free of any political connection.  However, politics is everywhere.  Even marriage here is political."

   " People say art should be separate from politics.  Everything is political.  If artists don't make a 

change, then what?  Art exists in the world!"

   Abdulfattah is married and has a family.  His official residence is Bethlehem, although his wife and children live in Jerusalem where they have rented a house for several years.  His wife was born and raised in East Jerusalem and has an Israeli ID and a Jordanian passport.  He was born and raised in Bethlehem in the Aida Refugee camp.  His official residence, according to the Israeli government, is Bethlehem, though his family has lived for years in East Jerusalem, and he has to get a special permit to visit East Jerusalem, a permit that has to be renewed each year.  He is considered "a visitor" in East Jerusalem.

   To be continued...