By Selselbeel

My name is Selselbeel and I am 13 years old. My family is from Palestine [Palestine, land of Jerusalem and dreams; oh the land of Palestine, from which the Prophet ascended to the skies above; you who all hearts love]. Palestine means all hope to me.

 

We were forced out of our land, where we used to live, eat, and drink. Here in Jordan, we are looked at as Palestinians. They make us live in a disgusting environment (Palestinians and Jordanians). Here in Jordan, they make Palestinians pay fees and even in my country, Palestine, people do not live in safety. In my country, where the strong control the weak, the Israelis have always occupied us and occupied our homes. We enter our home by permit; we leave our homes by permit. One doesn’t live with security. They uproot orange trees from your sweet land, oh Palestine, and they change your name.

 

Oh Jerusalem, our beloved, whoever defends you is killed; they don’t remain alive. Tell us, why don’t we have freedom?

 

The elderly in Palestine are assassinated. When I hear my elders talk about Palestine, I become sad because I cannot go there and see all the places. They talk about Palestine and all the crises. (The Israelis) have named it after themselves; they’ve said it has been theirs since the beginning.

 

(They’ve done this) because they have no place, no country of their own to live in; they’ve done this because of the mountain, which they call Mount Zion. They used to break into our homes; they take from us the books of Palestinian history. There is no freedom for us.

 

Do you know anything about Palestine’s Nakba, which happened in 1948? And also (do you know) that the Nakba was the strong killing the weak? There was no security for us. They broke into our homes and took the men to prisons.

 

There were many victims. Among them was Handala (Naji Ali). He was 9 years old when we left Palestine. He was fighting Israelis with drawing and art. The date he was born is the Nakba, and his mothers name is the Nakba; he does not have a father or an identity. People named him Handala (bitterness). He was assassinated before the first Intifada (1987) and people still consider him a child until this time.

Another of the victims was Hassan Salama, who fought the Israelis with song, and destroyed their schemes. Those are some of the victims.

 

Here in Jordan, when I go to school, I see there are no wars like Palestine’s. And (I see that) the mother in Palestine, when she says goodbye to her children, feels like she will be seeing them for the last time.

 

(Here in Jordan), there is no one who cares about you, oh Palestine, who is my country, country of peace and olives.

Oh Jerusaleum, oh my city, oh child of burnt fingers,

Oh city that is full of sorrows,

Who will wash the blood out of the stones of your walls?

My country, country, of peace and olives.

Come Alive

The Arab Idol from the Gaza Strip

I can’t claim to have ever seen a full episode of Arab Idol… Yet, I have in the past days gained a new interested due to one of the three finalists: Mohammed Assaf.

This week as I travelled Palestine, visiting my friend Marah’s family in Nablus and a nearby village, Jen Safout, I kept hearing about Mohammed Assaf. He has an amazing story. Assaf, a young 23 year old Palestinian refugee from Khan Younis Camp in Gaza, has risen to stardom and is now the favorite to win Arab Idol.

Gaza has been under blockade by Israel since 2007. The land and naval blockade means that 1.7 million people are locked into the 62 square km Gaza Strip — one of the most densely populated areas on earth. In contravention of international law, Israel restricts Gazan’s imports and exports, access to the water, and freedom of movement. The blockade has crippled Gaza’s economy, resulting in an over 30% unemployment rate and 70% of the population is dependent on aid to survive. The blockade collectively punishes the Palestinians of Gaza, degrading their living conditions and depriving them of a chance to live normal lives. 

To leave Gaza, there are only two land crossings – Erez Crossing with Israel and Rafah Crossing with Egypt. Until 2011, Rafah was closed and movement through Erez was limited to people granted permits through an arduous process that meets the Israeli criteria for an exceptional case. Now, Rafah is open to Palestinian passport holders – one access point for 1.7 million people to the outside world.

However, there are still stipulations. Most notably, the majority of men between the ages of 18 and 40 need to go through a time-consuming bureacracy and get a permit to leave. Often, this results in men being turned away from the crossing.

This is what makes Mohammed Assaf’s story so remarkable. He actually managed to leave Gaza —  with the purpose of attending Arab Idol auditions in Egypt.

However, the border crossing took a long time and delayed him so much that all the audition numbers had been given out by the time he arrived. Yet he started singing in the hall, where a fellow Palestinian overheard…and gave Assaf his number. The rest is history – he auditioned, was accepted, and the judges/audience have fallen in love with him throughout the season.

Last night, we were sitting outside when our hosts heard his voice from the tv inside singing a famous Palestinian song… and we all dashed in to watch the performance. It was the first time I actually saw Assaf and heard his voice. He deserves all the hype.

All over Palestine, people were talking about him. The pride of the people – a different face for Palestinians – a symbol of hope.

If anything, I think the most important thing about his story is that Mohammed Assaf is just an ordinary guy —> 23 years old, handsome, charming, great talent.

Yet he is also from a place that is not well understood, nor recognized for its suffering. When it comes to Gaza, it seems like media forgets that the people… are people… seeking to live a normal life — not a group of terrorists nor statistics in a news report.

I doubt there is a better way to send my generation of Americans that reminder, “they are people, just like me and you” than the below video:

 

 

 

Needless to say, I will be tuning in with the rest of the Arab world tonight, hoping Mohammed Assaf brings one home for the Palestinians.

Goodbye to our American Friends!

Goodbye to our American Friends! from “The Baqa’a Times”

A farewell to our American Pen Pals, as we all head off to summer vacation..

During the past year, students from the Orphan Welfare Association (OWA) in Baqa’a Camp, Jordan have been exchanging letters with Pen Pals from AB Regional Highschool in Acton, MA, US.

For the OWA students in Jordan, ranging in age from 6 years old to 16 years old, their Pen Pals were their first “American friends” and the first exposure they had to American people, culture, and life in general. The letter exchange both showed the OWA students the value of developing their English language skills and gave them a sense of connection to American people. Similarly for the AB students, this exchange provided insight into a corner of the world that Americans do not know much about; they have learned about life in the Middle East –> life in the Arab world –> life in Jordan –> and even more specifically, life in a Palestinian refugee camp in Jordan.

This video shows some of the OWA students saying goodbye to their classmates. Not pictured here are many other students, including high school students (Alanood, Rawhy, Mohammed, and Hana), who participated throughout the year. All of them send their love, thanks, and farewell to their friends in America.

Baqa’a Clean Up!

There is a huge problem with trash in Jordan. It comes from a lot of factors, which I’ll skip over theorizing on now, but the point is litter is everywhere and people take a very nonchalant attitude towards it. In fact, it is not strange to be walking behind someone and see him drop a wrapper/cigarette/coffee cup onto the ground as he walks – without a second glance.

In Baqa’a this problem is even more evident, exasperated by the fact that there are even worse services than in Amman (trash pick up, sewage, etc).

House in Baqa’a Camp

Trash outside a school

The OWA is not immune.. in fact the outside area we play in has been almost unuseable due to trash, glass, and stones strewn across it.

So for “Earth Day,” Marah, Nadine, and I decided to do something about it. We organized a “Baqa’a Beautification Day” to teach the children about respecting the environment and take action by cleaning up our own center.

Nadine filmed our class as we discussed why its important to clean the earth — the problems currently faced in our community — and what we can do about it. Then, of course, we sang songs and colored pictures. To close, Nadine interviewed some students and made a 60 second film for us:

“It’s Earth Day at the Orphan Welfare Association! Baqa’a is the largest Palestinian refugee camp in Jordan, with more than 100,000 registered refugees. A few excited kids tell us, in 60 seconds, how we can live more sustainably and care for the environment. They remind us what we already know, but sometimes forget: we all share the Earth.”

Isn’t she amazing? Aren’t the kids adorable? I truly believe that education is the only way to change a huge, complicated, societal problem like littering here in Jordan. Our kids will be on the front lines, telling their friends about how Miss Julie and Miss Marah never throw trash on the ground and yza3lu (get sad) whenever someone does..

Here are some shots from our clean up of the center:

The Baqa’a Times

I’ve been so bad about blogging lately.. its actually unreal. Have I mentioned yet that I started a student blog for the Orphan Welfare Association in Baqaa? Anyway, check it out (I’ve been decent about blogging on that platform)… http://thebaqaatimes.wordpress.com/

 

The Baqa’a Times is our OWA student blog. It has students’ writings (English and Arabic) and photos. The idea is to empower the students – giving them a platform to present their work, their Association, and their community. I also occasionally contribute stories about our activities. For example, the most recent post on “Rap and Graffiti” … our latest Friday program :)

If you get a chance, peruse the site. The OWA (and Baqa’a in general) remains to be my favorite place in Jordan.. and a big piece of my heart.

I feel like a proud mom when I think about it (I hate that I even just wrote that, gosh I’m old)… but really I can’t help but think: look, look, see powerfully Selselbeel wrote about her family? Look, look see what insights Hashem captured with his photos? Look, look can you believe little Ban memorized poetry about Palestine? Look, look how big are they smiling?

Brewing for Peace

“An unusual occupation in an occupied land”

My roommate Nadine has done it again. Check out her mini-documentary below, “Brewing for Peace.” It is the story of a small, Christian village in the West Bank and its famous beer brewery that puts a different face on Palestinian resistance.

Brewing for Peace from Nadine Ajaka on Vimeo.

 

“Brewing for Peace” gives voice to a beautiful story, a story that we (read: Americans) can relate to and understand. Its a layered story: its about a family – its about the first beer brewery in the Middle East – its about the last exclusively Christian village in Palestine – and its about peaceful resistance to occupation.

I think its an important story to tell, for a lot of reasons. To start, Palestine is something pretty unrelatable to most Americans. Its a charged word, a political word, that invites fierce opinions and debate. Palestinians are people who are different from us – Arab, Muslim, conservative, you name it. Even if we don’t hold outright stereotypes, Palestine still feels like a very different place – literally and culturally.

This story turns that upside down.. because its about Palestinian Christians doing what we love best – drinking good beer. It seems like a silly thing, but it actually means a lot. “I can imagine sitting having a beer with him” really does lead to a feeling of connection – feeling of shared culture or similar daily lives.

 

Its also an important story because it gives a new face to Palestinian resistance. Peaceful resistance never seems to get enough coverage in the media, which tires out the audience with stories of political standstills, hate, and violence. Yet there is a strong non-violent resistance movement in Palestine, and the Khoury family looks at their beer brewery as a contribution to it. In their microcosm, one sees the detrimental effects of the occupation on normal people, trying to live normal lives and run a normal business. As Medees says, “We just want to live like everyone else.”

 

I hope the Khoury family is right… and that someday soon we will “Cheers” to peace with Taybeh beer.

 

 

PS. This is also a “MUST SEE” place to visit while in the region and hosts an amazing Oktoberfest. Highly recommended.

 

 

Boston, you’re my home

I hate that I’m here, far away, when tragedy strikes at home. I couldn’t believe it when I saw the news. Don’t you all worry about me? I live in the Middle East. Now I worry about you… Its not supposed to be this other way around, and I hardly even knew how to think about it. I’m so thankful I could talk to you all and al hamdulileh everyone is safe.

As we worried and refreshed online news pages, all Nadine and I kept muttering to each other was wow, the world is a terrible place. There is so much sadness and violence and war burdening this region that we are constantly reminded of. Then from home, a supposedly safe place, these random acts of destruction and terrorism occur. Again, our hearts ache.

Outside of that thought, there wasn’t much to say. Yet as almost an afterthought we reflected, god I hope it wasn’t an Arab. 

I’ve seen that sentiment tossed up on different twitter feeds and newsites, please don’t be an Arab or a Muslim, and as I hear stories like the Saudi student who was tackled fleeing the explosion or the two man escorted off the airplane after speaking in Arabic, the hope is even stronger.

The next step was to hope that the perpetrator was not a lunatic who would become the new face of a billion people. Not a murderer who would further fan the flames of Islamophobia.

 

Not an animal who would obstruct the ability of thousands of students to complete their educations in the United States. Not an extremist who would maim and hurt the very people who were still recovering from the pain of Sept. 11.

 

President Obama and Gov. Deval L. Patrick have shown great restraint in their words and have been careful not to accuse an entire people for what one madman may have done. But others might not be so kind.

– NY Times

 

Whoever did this was a monster. I don’t want to “hope” anything about them. Maybe a better way to say this, I am sad and angry. I hope whoever did this gets caught, gets punished, and gets everything that is coming to him/her for this terrible act. But I hope we don’t fall back on fear, hate, or stereotyping because of our anger and sadness.

 

To close, a more positive note. I was surprised by the outpouring of love from friends here this week. You know, when I introduce myself here, I always tell people I’m from Boston. So I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when I got calls, messages, and texts on Tuesday from my local friends… they were checking in, seeing if kul shay tamam – making sure my family/friends are safe, expressing condolences, seeing if I needed anything or wanted to talk.

Solidarity is a beautiful thing. I guess its something that contradicts the feeling Nadine and I couldn’t shake Monday night.. the world is a terrible place.

But as Nadine later reflected, I guess all we can do is keep trying to do good by each other – and hope that we all feel for each other and can take care of each other when tragedy does strike.

“We would not be here if humanity were inherently evil. We’d have eaten ourselves alive long ago. So when you spot violence, or bigotry, or intolerance or fear or just garden-variety misogyny, hatred or ignorance, just look it in the eye and think,

The good outnumber you, and we always will.”

“…We’re here…on a scholarship from Bashar al Assad”

What a lovely evening.

I finally visited one of my favorite families from Jesuit Refugee Services (JRS), where I have been teaching English Literacy since September. After much talk, Maya, Kaitlin, and I at last took the family up on their offer (teejuu 3ndna!) and went to their home for dinner.

I love all my students at JRS. The experience has really been a blessing, and I look forward to every class. But I will say, I cannot help but love this family a little extra. They’ve been in my class since September: they are the family who gave me pajamas on my birthday, whose 2 year old daughter follows me around the whole class (ansa juuulie! how are youuu!), and who make a point to spend any free moments talking with Maya, Kait, and I.

They are such a genuine and warm family. Mom – Dad – 18 year old daughter – 16 year old son – and the little 2 year old darling. We actually spent the entire evening laughing.

 

I’m so happy I met them.

Yet, my heart breaks to think of the situation that led them here to life in Amman. Syrians are still pouring over the Jordanian border; Jordan opened a 2nd refugee camp just this week for the most vulnerable cases. Inside Syria, things continue to spiral downward. The news of the most recent massacre is almost too much to handle – and following the “Syrian Observatory for Human Rights” on Facebook has meant seeing constant updates on the just as constant death and destruction happening there.

My friends are happy in their lives here, because they are happy people. Yet the father is working an 8am to 8pm job — the 18 year old daughter is working a full time job — and the 16 year old son works at a restaurant every day, without any days off. Then, bless their hearts, after all that they still come to English class 3 nights a week. Love them a lot.. I wish life could be easier on them.

 

Anyway, as I said, we spent the whole evening laughing. None of the above mentioned hardships or troubles ever entered our dialogue.. and when it did, it was just to make us laugh again together..

 

Maya: “Oh yes, well you see, we’re all here on a scholarship from the US government to teach English and study Arabic.”

 

Father: “Ah yes. So like us… We’re here… on a scholarship from Bashar al Assad”

 

(insert fits of laughter from all parties here)

 

Take a minute to read the above story — from a beautiful new project focused on telling the stories of Syrian refugees in Jordan. Lend them your ears, and your hearts: http://voicemiddleeast.wordpress.com/

Voice

To my dear city, Homs, do you know how much hope and despair you have created in me?!

Do you know that you are the only pain in my heart? For you are my home that I was born in, where I grew up, lived, and fed from its land. I keep blaming myself for leaving you, my dear Homs, you are my beloved home and the special place in my heart. The only phrase that makes me patient and helps me endure what has happened to you is that of “God is Great”, for He is the only one with the power to protect you. Tell me, how do I eat and not eat from your land? How do I sleep when I am far away from your warmth? Oh, my beloved country; when will we return to you? Our longing and yearning for you is burning inside us…when…

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