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!
Bethlehem – Palestine
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!!!
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!
Finally, some happy pictures from younger sister and older (slightly) brother.
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
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.
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
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! 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.
Julie in Jordan! 
