By Abdullah, age 10

Palestine, my name is Palestine.

I carved my name on all the places.

The letters of my name talk to me and call me free.

And my name is letters, and letters are my name.

– Palestinian song, I am Palestine

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.

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

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?

High Fives for Fulbright

I have loads of blog posts in my head that I want to write… but between a busy schedule and the internet being a diva, blogging has just not been in the cards for me lately. BUT there was such a great moment today that I really want to share.

 

I was at my Literacy class (for Jesuit Refugee Services) where I teach with Maya, Kaitlin, and Teresa. Our students are amazing – all refugees, men and women, from Sudan, Somalia, and Syria.

In fact, we only have 4.5 students from Syria.

First is an lady named Adeela, habibet albi, who is simply a character that lights up the class. Then there is a family — a mother, father, teenage son, and a 2 year old daughter (she’s the .5!)

“Our Syrian family,”  as we lovingly refer to them, treat us like their other daughters. In fact for my birthday, they got me pajamas! The amazing thing is not only that these pjs are the most family-style gift possible (check the pattern below) but also that the pjs fit me PERFECTLY… the family guessed my size to a t… mish ma3ul.

Anyway, during a break in class Maya and I were talking to the father of our Syrian family. I made a joke about not understanding all the Jordanian flags decorating our room ( a new addition, presumably put up recently because of some holiday we were unaware of ) because he is Syrian and we are American; we’re all new here.

Laughing, he held out his hand to us — 7ala einda intifaqia bain suria g amrika // now we have a pact between Syria and America.

Of course, we loved it, shaking his hand: inshallah 3la tool // and hopefully forever. Kaitlin walked in minutes later, without hearing any of the prior conversation, and was greeted with the same handshake — enti ma3na? // do you agree? — to which she replied affirmatively without a thought.

 

After, Kaitlin asked us… “So, what did I agree to? Dinner?”

To which Maya replied,

“No no, just a general agreement between America and Syria.”

 

As we dissolved into giggles, our group exchanged high fives. Fulbright Mission accomplished?

“YOUSEF, I am NOT taking your umbrella!”

A classic example of how overly kind people here are..

My student, Yousef, stopped by to say hello on Tuesday, in the beginnings of this crazy Amman rain & snow storm .. and as we were chit-chatting I complimented him on his umbrella (really snazzy, nice pattern, useful). Forgetting where I was, I followed up my compliment with a joke about how I don’t have an umbrella and am largely unprepared / unhappy with the winter weather so far. I’ve been making jokes along those lines a lot because, well, they’re true.

Typical conversation in America – that probably would have ended in my friend chiding me and telling me to buy an umbrella.

Here, I immediately realized my mistake as Yousef offered me his umbrella, “Here, take it!”

Compliments are tricky here. Often, when you compliment someone on something or express interest in something of theirs — they offer you the item. The idea behind this is really beautiful… you are my friend – you think my bracelet is beautiful – so I want to give it to you. The same held true in this case… you are my friend – you don’t have an umbrella – so I want you to have mine!

This can be avoided by saying ma’sha’allah usually, which means “as god wills” – your bracelet / umbrella / absersho is better with you.

In this situation it was comical… because as SOON as I said “I keep meaning to buy an umbrella like that! Its very beautiful”, I knew this situation would unfold. So just as Yousef started to say “Take it!” – I was saying “Oops no no no that’s not what I meant.”

The next 10 minutes was spent in a back and forth Arabic conversation… simply because it was too Arab of a situation to have in English … ( KHALAS YOUSEF! )

It was made more laughable by the fact that the other student with us, Omar, kept rolling his eyes at me like I was silly… “Julie this is our culture, you should take it!” … and my follow up response… “And this is MY culture…. YOUSEF I am NOT taking your umbrella!”

Anyway, at long last Yousef took his umbrella back & we all had a good laugh.

Its really a beautiful part of the culture (You are my friend! Take it!) and comical to try to explain why we Americans find it strange (What do you mean Julie??? Your American friends would not give you an umbrella?)

Case in point… I will be watching my mouth and buying my own umbrella soon.

Learning from my Students: Work in Jordan

Work in Jordan is, anecdotally speaking, hard to find. Many young people leave to find work… when I say this I’m thinking of my friend, Malak, who is leaving for Saudi on Sunday for work, and Nisreen’s finance, Mousa, who is working in Saudi presently… plus countless other little insights from students and friends.

 

While speaking about stereotypes the other day, the idea of work came up. We learned the vocabulary hard-working // lazy – as well as punctual // late.

Stereotypically, Americans are hard-working and punctual. “Go, go, go, go, go.” “I have time to meet you…. from 4:00 to 4:30.” (Note this great article from the summer that my friend Bif shared recently.. all very true of us I think).

Stereotypically, Jordanians are lazy and late. Sweeping generalizations, of course. But still, I think of a joke Nisreen shared with me about the Jordanian attitude towards work:

 

 

Anyway, so in we delved!

American’s hard work ethic is one thing I’m really proud of… and I think despite its occasionals problems, that we are all well aware of (sacrifice family time, greed, etc), it is something people admire about us. And I think it is — in general — a generalization with a lot of truth.

Jordanian work ethic is more complicated to dissect.

To start, we discussed the lack of punctuality. At first glance, Americans might think Jordanians are rude — 15 minutes late to a meeting? Come on, get here on time! — but there are nuances to consider.

1) Here personal relationships are more important than, really, anything else. Therefore, if I’m walking to a meeting and my friend stops me to ask a question or request my help… khalas, I will be late – the people in my life are more important than professional commitments.

2) It is SO hard to get anywhere on time here. You are always trying your luck… will I be able to find a taxi? Will the bus take 15 minutes or 1 hour? Will there be traffic (…the answer is always yes) ? Will I be able to find a parking spot or will I have to park in another part of town?  So khalas, sorry I’m late to the meeting but COME on. Odds are everyone else had the same problem.

 

 

Then we jumped into the lazy stereotype… and it is true, that Jordanians definitely spend more time at work getting to know their co-workers than Americans do. Coffee breaks happen A LOT. But again… there’s that relationship thing again!

Anecdotally, I don’t think Jordanians are lazy… if anything, I would chalk the stereotype up to a lot of people being stuck in jobs they don’t like (….and thus, just as we do in America, do the bare minimum) – and a lot of people employed in a bloated public sector (….too many people, not enough work… ipso facto, lazy).

But that stereotype requires more delving…  more to come… (inshallah)

Learning from my Students: Family in Jordan

This post will be the first in a mini-series I have decided to call “Learning from my Students” … in which I share snippets of the things I am learning from my students (Petra U, Jesuit Refugee Services, and Al Baqaa).

So, to start… about family!

I made an interesting cultural faux pas when I organized a basic speaking activity around family at Petra University. After reviewing vocabulary and neccessary grammar, I asked every student to describe their family to the group – then I asked follow up questions to keep them talking. For one male student, I asked him what his family’s names are… “Ok, you have two sisters? What are their names?” “Yes, your mother? What is her name?”

This is the point of the story when all my Arab friends roll their eyes at me and laugh… because in many Arab families, people do not tell their mother or sister’s names to strangers – particularly strange men. I gather the idea is about privacy and protecting their female relatives — I can see some correlation to the insults present in our culture’s “your momma” jokes. So needless to say, I had really put my student on the spot… but luckily we all have a pretty good rapport so he and some other students explained the cultural difference to me. Its not true of all Arabs, in fact many students shared this without hesitation, but it is true that some Arabs / Jordanians / Muslims (I’m not sure where this particular cultural tendency derives from) do not share this to a group of strangers or “new friends.”

NEXT: Family and independence

As we talked about differences in university student life at Petra, our conversation rolled back to family. There are major differences in family life and relationships here. The typical “common knowledge” or stereotype is that Jordanians and Arabs in general have stronger familial bonds than Americans. People here will live with their families until they get married — then after they are married, maybe they live in an apartment upstairs — plus they see their extended family every week, if not every day.

My students asked me how often I see my extended family… and I thought of KK/Mikey/Brendan/AJ — Maria/John/Sean/Nia — Re, Gumpy, and Nana (etc etc)… and its what, probably once every two months? over the summer? Let alone during the school year… then its just holidays. One of the things I admire most about Arab culture is the high volume of family time… that is one of the things I want to bring my into my life, a little piece of Arab culture that sticks with me even when I leave.

To be fair though, many Arabs act the same way we do — usually because of work. It is common to hear about families with a son in Saudi or Dubai or even in America. People move, generally speaking, because the work opportunities are so much better in these other places. Yet, then the family is split — only seeing each other on holidays or a few times a year.. just like us.

Some students asked if I was lonely. The idea of living at university “alone” seemed sad to them… (“I’m too social” – one student said). Then I explained that at university, I lived in the same building as 200 other students.. with my best friends. So “lonely” was not really a feeling I felt —- although missing family was of course always part of the year … plus independence.

Many of my students talked about the lack of independence due to the familial culture. Students live at home with their whole family usually. This can make it hard for some students to become “responsible” – and leads to some students being “controlled by their family.” That is less of a problem for us.

Then again, as some students shared, it is not unheard of to live alone. One of my students is studying and working here — alone — and sending money home to his family in Nablus (Palestine). There are plenty of exceptions, like him, but generally speaking – our independence and responsibility comes at a much earlier age due to our looser family living.

So, there’s the start of the mini-series. I figured perhaps you would like to learn with me … and being so immersed with young people and mandatory conversation practice, I am bound to learn loads!! :)