A drop in the ocean

This Christmas, half my family got “in your name donations”… meaning I bought winter gloves ($1 / pair) and fuzzy socks/slippers ($1.50 / pair) in Jordan for kids in Za’atari I know need them. I put this together with some photos, and it made for a touching gift.

I was discussing this with a friend, and she relayed a common sentiment: the love of donations like the above, where you see the result (50 girls got a pair of mittens and socks for the winter), and the lackluster other option, “donating to big organizations that already have so much money.”

I think this is a pretty common opinion.. and all the more frustrating because its patently false. I watched the below video — images of refugees walking across the Jordanian border, story of a paralyzed 2 year old heading with her family to live in Za’atari Camp — and was reminded again how massive the need is, the need that these “big organizations” are seeking to respond to.

UNHCR recently appealed for a record high 6.5 billion in funding to deal with the Syrian crisis. That’s a huge amount of money… but in the 4th year of this tragic war, its expected that the humanitarian community will be providing aid to 3/4ths of the Syrian population. That’s a shocking number – 3/4ths of a population in need of help.

To make it more clear, the same friend hands me a “Christmas gift” check for $120 for the kids in our programs. I am overjoyed (that’s a lot of money coming from a recent grad), and thank her, “It seems like something small, but $120 is 240 pairs of mittens.” My friend laughed, “No need to spend it all on mittens.” But the follow up response, of course, put it in perspective: there are 100,000 Syrians in Za’atari Camp.. 60,000 children… and 240 pairs means that 59,760 children – in Za’atari Camp alone – don’t receive any.

Anyway, the fact of the matter is the reason these organizations appear to “have so much money” … is because they need so much money… and then some.

Another common opinion, it seems, is that the need is so huge, what’s the use of a small donation? Again, an idea that couldn’t be farther from the truth. For one great donation idea, check out this new campaign – a partnership between Mercy Corps and a grassroots volunteer group in Jordan – We Care About Syria.

To imagine how far the money can stretch:

• $3 will provide a child with art materials and toys wrapped in a bright bag to look like a gift rather than a hand-out.
• $5 will provide a family with a hygiene package of essentials
• $15 will provide a mattress
• $30 will provide a whole kitchen cooking and eating set for a family of 6
• $35 will provide three blankets
• $100 will provide a child’s wheelchair; so many children have suffered injuries in this war
• $850 will buy a house – yes, we can buy and install a prefabricated house for a refugee family living outside of the camps in make-shift tents. A farmer has donated some land and the families in need identified.

Anyway, I suppose my other point all along has been, a drop in the ocean is still a drop.

Winter Ups and Down

Well, it snowed in Jordan!

I can’t help but feel constant ups and downs about the early start to winter.

I’ll share some of them in attempts of explanation..

1) Being snowed in for an all-night Christmas party at Dan’s house.

2) Watching little kids building a snowman in a neighborhood of Homs in Syria – which has been blockaded by the regime for 500, thus left to face the early winter storm with no gas or electricty.

As the citizen journalist describes the dire situation in the neighborhood, the kids interrupt, talking amongst themselves “Now put the eyes! Yeah, just use the snow.”

More at: Syria Direct

3) Venturing out in the snow to gather the necessary supplies for 3 days of movies, hot chocolate and kahlua, and snuggling.

4) Thinking of friends in Zaatari sitting in caravans, or worse, in tents without heaters or winter clothes as strong winds and heavy rain rips through the camp.

More at: Syria Direct

5) Arriving in Boston, happy to be home for a White Christmas.

6) Reading about refugees in Lebanon, who are all the more worse off from snowfall and lack of resources.

A flock of small boys trotted by. “Bring us clothes!” one shouted. “We are cold!” called another.

More at: NY Times

I guess its inevitable that I couldn’t be happier or sadder that winter is finally here. It seems appropriate to return back to some favorite lines from Mahmoud Darwish, Think of Others:

As you return home, to your home, think of others
(do not forget the people of the camps).

As you sleep and count the stars, think of others
(those who have nowhere to sleep).

One of my favorites from Zaatari wearing his new winter hat – which he chose himself during our distribution of over 4,000 donated hats.

He was pretty happy with himself and, needless to say, warm.

You can donate to the UN emergency response here

Female Slam Poetry in Jordan

Nadine, as per usual, writes a compelling piece about Jordanian women in Amman’s Spoken Word scene.

Its further proof of Jordan’s confusing identity; the reality of so many different types of people and lifestyles darting across this region that make it impossible to speak about Jordan – the Middle East – or Arabs in any sweeping generalizations.

As tonight’s poetry reading draws to a close, Aysha speaks her own manifesto of youth. The emotion is raw, but no one looks away as her piece crescendos.

“It was my friends who hugged their canvases and wept for brothers killed in the doom of Arab revolution, and guilted over the fire exit of their breath,” she raps, her words echo within the narrow walls.

“But I still have my dictators falling, as the Arab Spring fireworks into a festive autumn. So for all I care me and my friends are the sunrise.”

Read all here —> Jordan’s Underground Female Slam Poetry Scene

Education in Zaatari

Often, critics come down hard on education in Zaatari. There are three official schools in Zaatari, meant to serve the 60,000 children living in the camp. However, only 1 out of 3 children aged 6 to 14 attends school. There are many different reasons — some students have been out of school for over a year, some children are focused on working or helping their family, some families don’t want their children walking across the camp alone, and there have been more than a few problems in the schools that has cost them designation as a “safe space.”

However one opinion I hear a lot is: “They don’t like to read.”

Most Syrians in Zaatari are from Deraa and the surrounding countryside. I’ve met many who cite the culture and upbringing of the Syrians of Zaatari Camp as the reason for the lack of interest in school. I’ve heard it inside the camp, from aid workers, and outside the camp, from Jordanians. These voices constantly speak about a the lack of interest from the parents and children themselves in learning.

I could (and have) argue against such an opinion for hours.

Parents are uninterested in forcing their kids to attend school? Maybe because they just watched their families killed and normal life destroyed – and are left dazed, with little hope for the future. Children are unmotivated to attend school? Maybe because they were just forced from their own schools, where they had friends, a curriculum they understood, teachers they loved and hated, and a community they called their own.

However, now I will add a new story to my argument: a wonderful family I have been working with through IRD’s Zaatari soccer program.

Shadi and Reem are a young couple from Deraa who fell in love – and despite the hesitations of their family – got married and started a life together. They left Deraa seven months ago, when the violence became all-encompassing and they feared for the safety of their three young children.

Sitting in their caravan, I watch their oldest daughter, Gazel, put on her bright blue UNICEF backpack and listen to her regale the family with stories from 1st grade.

“Today I learned….kaza kaza kaza.” Shadi and Reem have been teaching her since she was old enough to talk – now on command she can recite the English shes memorized (“toufah APPLE bisa CAT mouza BANANA ab wa im FATHER AND MOTHER”).

Today in conversation with Reem, I asked her to remind me – “Forgive me for forgetting, but how old is Gazel again?” Without missing a beat she responded, “4 years old.”

I nodded… then thought about it for a minute. Wait.. 4 years old? isn’t she in first grade?

With a smile Reem responded… “Sa7… kiberna’ha schway”

Which literally translates… “Yes, we grew her up a little bit”

Meaning this family, in addition to constantly teaching little Gazel, whether in Syria or in Zaatari Camp, also consciously stretched her age a bit — to allow her to go to school every day for 5 hours and benefit from the resources UNICEF is providing in the camp.

Thanks to her parents, when Gazel goes back to Syria she will actually be ahead of her peers by two years… because her parents really care about her education and take conscious steps to ensure she learns and develops each day – despite entering school for the first time far from home in a crowded refugee camp. These uplifting stories are more common than not – and sustain my faith in the people of Zaatari.

A Photo Update on My Life

Travelling the Wadi Rum Desert: Katy and our Bedouin Guide

High School Flashback: Basketball Clinic for Baqaa Girls

Arts and Crafts Mailed From Mom: Ban and Jeelan Kidnap Me

Carnivale at Baqaa: King Mohammed

Peace in Zaatari: New Girls’ Sports Program

And.. that’s all! Sorry for disappearing. Can’t promise I won’t do it again, but I am going to try to resume my good blogging skills this Eid vacation!

 

Jackie in Jordan

 

Jackie has graced Jordan with her presence for a month…

She ate at Jafra, Al Quds, Habibeh, and Hashems, visited Petra and Wadi Rum, floated in the Dead Sea, taught a Language Club at the OWA summer camp, experienced long Ramadan days, broke fast with the OWA students, spent a long weekend in Palestine, and ate 5 servings of Maqlubeh at Wael’s house.

Needless to say, she did it all.

Yet.. I STILL WISH SHE STAYED!!!

Ramadan in Amman

Well, Ramadan is over! al hamdulileh.

What can I say about Ramadan? – the holiest month in Islam, during which most Muslims fast from food, water, coffee, smoking… you name it. Fasting begins with the dawn prayer and finishes as the adhan sounds for the sunset prayer. Families gather together and wait patiently for the adhan, then have iftar – the breaking of the fast. From that moment (usually around 7:45) until dawn, people stay up late with their friends and families, eating and celebrating together. Sahour, the last meal before the next day’s fast, comes shortly before dawn – at 3:00 or 4:00 in the morning. Needless to say, there’s not much sleeping during Ramadan.

Ramadan completely changes the city: ranging from a shortened workday (8:30 to 2:30), to a lack of social life/cafes open during the day to late Ramadan nights always finished by fireworks.

 

For me, I experienced Ramadan in two ways: as a foreigner and as a volunteer.

 

First of all – as a foreigner. Every day I felt like I was basically fasting. With 99% of the population Muslim, eating in public was out of the question. Nadine and I would go to work, realize we forgot to pack a lunch, then remember that there’s no food anywhere in the office. Khalas, I guess we’re “fasting” today. There were multiple days of purchasing a twix bar between work and going to the OWA, then ducking down a random alley to eat it. #ramadanproblems. Technically, its against the law to eat in public during Ramadan. Besides, even if it wasn’t – its just respectful to refrain from doing so. At night, after iftar, as I drank my bottle of water in a taxi or nibbled on snack as I walked home, I always caught myself heaving a sigh: “I looove eating in public.”

My friend Kait – preparing an iftar for us and some of our students. Note: I helped!

There were, of course, always funny moments too. For example, when I went to Wael’s house during the day and everyone kept trying to feed me. No matter how much I explained that I didn’t want to eat out of respect – and besides, I’m not hungry! – they kept offering and offering (“this isn’t your religion, you don’t need to fast!”)… at one moment Wael’s mom told him to leave the room so I could “eat and not feel shy.”

Me, trying to grill meat — Ban, trying to show me how

Its not that us foreigners are alone in these “Ramadan woes.” In fact, many of my friends were not fasting – in particular the other volunteers from Baqaa at the OWA. They are all Muslim, but for various reasons chose not to fast. Some don’t because they are not particularly religious; some only fasted on days that they weren’t busy (can you imagine being in class half a day then at work until iftar without food or water?). I learned quickly that when the office door at the OWA was shut it meant that volunteers were inside – drinking coffee or smoking.

Second all – as a volunteer. The OWA was busier than I’ve ever seen it during Ramadan. I had heard stories of Ramadan (“we work every day, all day”) but to see it in action was something else. During the month of Ramadan, the OWA had 3-5 iftars a week for the kids. It all depended on donations – someone would fund us or host us, then we would organize activities for the kids and take them out to break the fast. It was really telling that on the first night of Ramadan – the night you’d expect everyone to be with their families – we brought 100 children to iftar with the OWA and their donor. Thanks to the OWA, these orphans get to have a Ramadan that feels special too.

Ahmad and I debating the best dance move to correspond with Knaan’s “Wave Your Flag” – which we performed for donors at one of the big iftars

The OWA also used donations to purchase clothing for each child. After Ramadan, there is a four-day celebration called “Eid.” It’s a little like Christmas in that families gather and give their children presents – usually new Eid clothes. For the orphans, their families cannot afford such gifts. Therefore the center takes the kids out throughout Ramadan and gives them money to purchase a new outfit; last week we gave all the children these gifts. Over Eid, they dressed in their new clothes just like all the other kids.

Little Ban singing in front of her (much older) peers at one of the iftars

It probably goes without saying that the OWA is what made Ramadan special for me. Those kids really had a great month — thanks to the hard work of committed volunteers — and I, in turn, did too. So khalas even though I have had enough of Ramadan for next year, I do hope I’m in the region to experience another one in the future.

Hungry little ones waiting for the adhan in order to eat their iftar!

Above and below:

Abu Ghasem and I amusing the little shebab before going out for an iftar

Rama riding on a carousel after we were hosted by an amusement park for iftar!

Student Depictions of Palestine

Just over a month ago, on May 15, the Arab world observed “the Nakba.” This day is a rememberance of the 1948 war, the creation of Israel, and the exodus of Palestinian refugees who fled their homes. The Nakba means “the catastrophe” in Arabic.

Around the same time, a former Fulbrighter approached me with a project for her grad program at Georgetown. She is designing a curriculum for Washington, DC students that teaches history and current events using the stories of refugees. Would Baqaa’s youth have anything to contribute?

So Marah and I designed a program. As part of the Nakba rememberance, we asked students to write or draw about Palestine — to give us a depiction or a narrative that would help American students understand Palestine better. “What does Palestine mean to you? What does being Palestinian mean to you?” we asked them; then we let them present whatever they wanted to present.

Haneen and Bayan watch as volunteer teacher Khalid makes a banner (reads “Palestine” in Arabic) – for the Nakba rememberance at the Center

I want to share these drawings and writings with you all. First of all, because the students did a really great job. The artwork is beautiful; the narratives are compelling.  I am eager to share their voices. But second of all, because I think its important and relevant to see how deeply these students love Palestine and how much they want to go back.

The students in Baqa’a camp are all refugees from Palestine – but they were born in Jordan and they are Jordanian citizens. It was their grandparents, or perhaps their parents as young children – who fled Palestine during the 1948 and 1967 wars. Yet their families have grown up in this refugee camp-turned-town, dreaming of going home.

I think I understand the Palestinian cause a lot… but even I was surprised at the depth of these writings and the sadness of these drawings. Sometimes its hard for me, like many other Americans, to understand the Palestinian’s insistence on the “right to return.” Its hard to grasp the deep connection to land — because I’ve never had a home taken from me – never had to live in a place I felt I didn’t belong – never felt I’ve been wronged with no apology or recognition.

The project made me sad a lot. The kids are so young to have these images and thoughts in their minds. But no matter how many times I told them, “irsmeelee ishy 7elu 3n filistin .. draw me something beautiful about Palestine,” students kept drawing sad pictures. Halfway through the program I had the words dababa, qatilu, and yehud (tanks, killing, Israelis) memorized.

So to start: two drawings from Haneen, an 8 year old girl.

She proudly showed me her picture, which broke my heart, then complied to my request to draw something beautiful and happy about Palestine.

“Miss, these are the Palestinians killed in their homes”

Translation: Haneen – Palestine – Jerusaleum <3 Freedom

Translation: Palestinian Flag – Palestine <3 Free