In Order To Learn

After a week of assimilation I have finally begun to interact with the Ibdaa youth. One of Ibdaa's primary functions is youth empowerment and leadership development and it is in these areas that I have been given some room to explore how I might learn from and share with the young people of Dheisheh.

I have engaged twice with a group of about 10 boys (aged 14-16) in a way that my experience in life and work has compelled me to. Our first encounter was an introduction to what I would like to offer them, which is a mixture of my martial arts and sports training, leadership education and teambuilding experience, and an introduction for me to what the boys feel they need at this pivotal time in their lives. Most of them expressed a need for guidance and support, someone to create the space for them to be active, learn functional life skills, and most importantly, to play ball. Talking to them about what they want from our interaction was a valuable and thought provoking exercise that has helped to shape my ideas of how I can best serve this community as a volunteer in solidarity with their mission.

Speaking now about how this community, specifically broader Palestine, has served me I wish to highlight my brief excursion yesterday to the city of Hebron. Hebron is a large city in the center of biblical Judea and is one of the oldest continually inhabited regions in the world. It is also one of the most controversial areas in all of Palestine.

Hebron has been a sight of discord between Jews and Arabs since early in the last century, and both communities have suffered from it. For example, in the late 1920's, 67 Jews were targeted and killed by Palestinians, and between '48 and '67 under Jordanian rule, many synagogues were ransacked and destroyed. Since the '67 war the Israeli Army has controlled the West Bank, Hebron being in the south of it, and Jewish settlers (now numbering around 800) have moved in and dominated life in the middle of the city. There is one soldier for every settler there, settler's who happen to be some of the most radical in all of Palestine, and most coming from Brooklyn, in fact. In 1994, for instance, the American-born doctor, Baruch Goldstein, entered the Cave of the Patriarchs, a mosque that houses the tombs of Abraham and his descendants, and opened fire on a crowd gathered for prayer. 29 Arab men and boys were killed before he was overtaken by a wrathful crowd. I could still see the missing chunks of stone, now filled in with plaster, from the bullets that exited his military-issued assault rifle.

As I and three American doctors wandered through the ancient city, up and down the maze of secluded corridors, past the immutable stone walls and winding tunnelways, we were aroused by the remote past that seemed to seep from the cracks. Hebron is a meaningful city to many, and it was easy to see why.

On our way out of the inner-city corridors, a Palestinian man, accompanied by his dishwater blonde boy, asked us if we knew our way or needed aide to exit the labrynthine walkways. Next thing we knew we were climbing the steps into his elegant home, tucked away behind a 10 meter stone facade. He was a humble man, softspoken yet obviously honored to share his pride for his family, including his two sons who were in their twenties. The troubling thing was, though, that he spent most of his breath on describing how wearisome life was in Hebron.

Every 10 days or so Israeli soldiers drop into his home from above, without notice, and interrogate his family. His two sons have been taken often and held all night in the settler area, being namecalled, sometimes beaten, and otherwise harrassed for living there. He stated that the soldiers admittedly beleaguer the Palestinians in Hebron because, "This is an occupation, and we must keep our boots on your neck." He left us by mentioning that moving his family to Canada was an advancing reality and seemed convinced that the actions of the soldiers intended precisely that.

So I am learning a great deal here, about resilience, the power of the struggle to survive, and confounded as to how human beings remain positive even amidst ruthless adversity. It is a both a humbling and a beautiful thing, volunteering my energy in order to learn and share in this strikingly unexpected environment.