Goodbye for now

The activity in my arts and crafts class was simple; to write and/or draw a picture about your favorite memory from these past two and half months. As I saw my students writing about the time we made paper lamps for Ramadan, new friends, water balloons, and pool day, I couldn’t help but reflect on how important this experience has been to me and how I just can’t seem to shake the perpetual pit I’ve had in my stomach about leaving so soon.

Nearly three months ago I said goodbye to my family and boarded a plane with a certain amount of excitement and trepidation for a new and often misunderstood place, a new adventure. Although I had never been to the Middle East, I immediately feel in love with the resilient and vibrant spirit of the Nabulsi people. From the first week onwards, life has moved at an extraordinarily fast pace with little time to process.

But in this short time I have seen my students take leaps and bounds in developing their confidence and personality. One student, Aya, came into class the first two weeks and sat down with her head on the table. She was silent, upset, and refused to participate in many of the activities. Eight weeks later, I am bound to find Aya attached at the hips of a new group of girlfriends from a different neighborhood, coming to class early to practice her numbers in English with me, and standing in front of her peers to present her art projects with a shy but steady smile. What is even more encouraging is that Aya’s story does not stand by itself but is representative of TYO’s impact on the children who participate in its programs. Throughout these 8 weeks, I have heard similar stories repeated time and time again from my other interns; it’s one song I will never get sick of listening to.

My students and the intern program has challenged me to grown in new ways both personally and professionally. The lessons learned, stories I have had the privilege to hear, and experiences I have shared with my fellow interns will stay with me wherever I go.

Until I’m back in Nablus…ma’a salama.

The Man Behind the Wheel

The view of Munir we see most often...

“Marhabaaaaa! Keifik?” Every time we climb into Munir’s spotlessly clean taxi we are welcomed by this cheery greeting as he, always the gentleman, holds the door open for us. “My favorite part of driving is talking to the interns,” he said. “Americans are always happy, and they always like to talk.” This may not be news to anyone who has experienced Americans abroad, but neither is Munir’s genuine interest in our lives surprising to me, as this open friendliness has become indicative of most of my interactions with Palestinians.

Munir has been driving interns all over Nablus (and the West Bank) for four years now, ever since TYO first opened in 2007. With each trip, he has taught us valuable lessons to use and build upon before our next journey with him. I learned quickly to listen carefully as, without fail, Munir always remembers to quiz you the next time you get into his car. “Hatha al-Diwar. Hatha hajiz. (This is the central circle. This is a checkpoint).” On my first grocery shopping trip, Munir decided to teach me the names of all the stores and the ever-necessary word “fatoora” or “receipt.” Inevitably, on our very next ride to the store, I had my first vocab test, which I passed only after every word of “badee narooh ile mahal fouwaka (I want to go to the fruit store)” was drilled into my head. Ever since, whenever I call him up, he makes sure to correct my pronunciation and verb agreement, my unofficial Arabic tutor checking up on me. This has produced great results, as my halting Egyptian Aameya has slowly morphed into a more confident Palestinian form of colloquial Arabic.

So if it’s our bi-weekly trips to Salfit to teach English (an hour round trip), a weekend trip down to Hebron, or a simple trip to the grocery store, Munir is there for the interns, ushering us through every leg of our discovery of Palestine. If one passenger even looks slightly concerned, whether we’re eyeing a passing army vehicle or we’re simply stuck in traffic, his immediate “Noooo problem!” always calms us down.

What lies ahead for our humble guide? “I will go wherever TYO goes. Anywhere they need me.” So, future TYO interns, you can look forward for years to come to many long and interesting rides with the ever-charming Munir. Yaslamu li kiteer rihlat momtaza, ya Munir!

The End of an Era

Today, our beloved Intern Coordinator, Chelsey, is sadly leaving us for the world beyond Nablus. Chelsey, who has nurtured us from intern infancy over the last eight weeks, who has introduced us to the wonderful people of Nablus, who has gracefully handled our hundreds of daily questions, has helped guide seven different rounds of interns through their first experiences of life in the West Bank, all with a huge smile on her face.

For the interns, we will take away wonderful memories of Old City walks, long talks on the balcony, and bonding over our love for iced coffee, to name just a few. For the many staff members she has worked with over her three years here, she has been a trusted colleague and a friend.

Whether it’s seeing her snapping away behind a camera – barely containing her obvious love for the children – or hearing her infectious laugh echoing through the hallways, we will miss her presence around the center. Chelsey, we wish you luck on your next adventure!

Intern Journal: Continuing the work

Over the past six weeks, all of us interns have come to rely on our translators to literally be our second voice in the classroom. But from lesson planning to TYO sponsored trips in the West Bank, time has flown by and we all realized that we had not had an opportunity to spend much time with our translators outside of the TYO Center.

For me, one of the most important things I wanted to gain from this experience was a better understanding of what it is to be a young person in Nablus so I was very excited when the interns and translators arranged a time to meet to have some food on Rafidia Street.

Under Sunday’s pink-tinged Nabulsi sky we all enjoyed lemon-mints, an amazing view, and good company. Our conversations often revolved around lighter subjects like debating the merits of John Cena, Troy, the Pittsburgh Steelers, iPhone applications, and 50 Cent; I will probably never understand some of the translators’ enthusiasm for the Oprah Winfrey Show.

Although we could all laugh and joke with each other, we were all cognizant of the very different lives we have all experienced. At the same time, we didn’t forget the larger commonalities that bond us as young people. All of us are of the same generation and have passions and dreams that drive us whether that be our work, families or Ernest Hemingway’s prose. But above all, we have our shared experiences at TYO. I felt incredibly hopeful and reinvigorated by the commitment I saw from many of our translators to continue the important work we have all started together long after the interns have left this beautiful place.

Blooming in Palestine

My mom always says to bloom where you’re planted. It’s a cryptic life instruction; I think it’s somewhat akin to the superficially obvious unattributed quote, “Wherever you go, there you are.” Nearly a year ago, I left my friends and family in Los Angeles to pursue some sort of ambiguous higher calling. I never expected to wind up in Palestine. It’s amazing where a random email through your graduate school listserv can lead.

I suppose we all wind up in unexpected places. These sometimes-serendipitous-sometimes-scary digressions frequently compose more of our lifetimes than the stuff we planned. And while it’s always experience, living impulsively is not always easy. I’ve recently been hit, as I think many TYO interns are at some point, with a wave of homesickness. Perhaps this was spurred on by blackberry season in Wooster, Ohio, the small midwestern town where I was born and raised. My mom’s blackberry pies are otherworldly.

But something funny happened last weekend. Some of the interns went to Ramallah to sample exotic new flavors of iced coffee and explore another area of our new home in the West Bank. Upon our return to Nablus later in the evening, I flopped down in my room and listened to the confused rooster outside my window who starts to crow at 11pm. I walked out to the balcony to take in the Nabulsi breeze and fantasize about the kunafa I’d eat in excess the following day. It was good to be home.

In that moment, I realized that unbeknownst to me, I had taken mom’s advice. I liked it here. Actually, I loved it here. I realized that Palestine had gotten into my blood, and perhaps it would be a little harder to leave than I originally anticipated. I still miss my family and friends – mom’s blackberry pie, my dad’s high pitched giggle when he plays with the dog, the dimples in my nephew’s cheeks when he does something his mother JUST told him not to do – but there are just as may things about Nablus that I’m going to miss when I’m gone.

So, whether it’s the kunafa, little Rida’s subconscious habit of pushing his glasses up during a soccer game, the “secret hi-five” we have with the neighborhood girls, or the friendships I’ve made with the other interns, I’m going to spend the last three weeks here taking in every single moment of it. Well, maybe not the kunafa part – I’ll stick to every other day with that.

The Interns Experience a Wedding…Nablus Style

Two hundred pairs of eyes turned to us the moment we entered the huge hall, occupied by the bridal party and about every woman in downtown Nablus. The bride and groom continued their dancing uninterrupted as we glued ourselves to the back wall and tried to blend in unsuccessfully. The foreigners had arrived.

Let me backtrack a bit. Last week, during one of our aerobics sessions, one of the mothers in our class graciously invited us to her daughter’s upcoming wedding. I was taken aback, not only by this woman’s openness but also that she was even old enough to be a mother-in-law. The other female interns and I accepted with great excitement as we had been hearing wedding parties in the streets for weeks and had wanted to experience a Nabulsi party. Finally! We had managed to make it into the inner circle!

Back to the wedding hall. As we edged along the wall trying not to tip over flower stands, wooden altars, and ginormous cakes, the fellow interns and I tried to look the least conspicuous as possible – a tall order when we were the only unveiled women in the room. Up on the stage, the bride and groom were happily slow dancing as a fog machine and bubble maker created mystical clouds around them. It was fairytale-like, which is, I guess, the underlying theme of most weddings. Except here, the dancing was reserved solely for the bride and groom, while the rest of room buzzed with the general feeling of happiness that comes with all weddings.

A noticeable change in the demeanor of the other women came when the mother-of-the-bride greeted us warmly and thanked us for coming. Perhaps this was the official signal that we were indeed invited guests and not over-curious gatecrashers, as we were then invited to sit down. We introduced ourselves to the women around us, at which point two very adorable babies were handed to us for some inexplicable reason. We were simultaneously overwhelmed by cuteness and flattered by the mothers’ trust.

It was at this point that the party really started to pick up, as the men from the adjacent room began to pour in and the flashing neon lights went especially crazy. I found this part particularly interesting, as the flurry of activity (which was later explained to me as presentations of gifts of money) seemed to center around the groom on stage as the bride posed for pictures off to the side. At most wedding in the US the bride is the center of attention; thus, this tradition struck me as particularly interesting.

Just before we left, we all managed to get our hands on a sliver of cake. Only minutes beforehand, this cake had been sliced by the groom with a massive sword, not a sight you see at any old wedding and one of the many reasons why I hope to attend another Nabulsi wedding in the future. Insha’allah.

- Alex

Alex is an intern at TYO Nablus.

SOW Team: A Day in the Life of a TYO Volunteer

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I woke up feeling a little nervous, like the first day of school when you don’t know anyone yet. I walked down to the main floor of the Nablus Center to see many kids sitting along four tables, wide-eyed and restless. Who do I talk to when I can’t say more than ten words? I walk up to a small boy in an orange Holland jersey fumbling with his backpack, “Marhaba, Shooo issmek?” I say, still unsure if I’m pronouncing it correctly. He stares at me with a worried look and I back away embarrassed. Ala, a Core Child teacher at TYO who teaches IT skills, and my only friend who speaks English, points me in the direction of one of the classrooms. I can’t tell who’s more nervous at this point, the kids or myself.

I feel like the new kid again. I shyly introduce myself and take the open seat next to the kid in the Holland jersey. The teacher continues talking in Arabic as a few kids continue to stare in my direction. When your ability to communicate is taken away, you have to rely solely on universal gestures. The fellow volunteers start to hand out blank paper. Are those really butterflies in my stomach? I feel as if I am five again and have to hold the urge to grab the crayons first. It’s only been five minutes and I’m already uncontrollably smiling.

It’s no wonder TYO has so many volunteers. They have over 100 for the summer session, mainly from An Najah University, and overwhelmingly female. They actually started out with only 12 volunteers, all males, but with the increase in numbers each year, more and more women started to participate. After snack time, we prepare for our morning field trip to the Nablus Fire Department. I don’t remember the last time I visited a fire station, probably when I was about this age. After settling who travels on what bus (the kids must be separated by where they’re coming from, Askar, Balata, Khallet al Amood) we make our way down to the Nablus Fire Department.

It would seem that fire stations are impressive everywhere. The firemen greeted us in their typical outfits. There were then some demonstrations. Even though I couldn’t understand, Ala was quick to translate whenever there was a funny moment, such as when one kid, when prompted by the firemen if he had any questions, asked about a monster that attacked his foot last night. I enjoyed the children’s Q&A very much, but I had a question of my own so I conversed with one of the volunteers at the fire station. He told me that it was a long process to become a firemen and that he has volunteered for about seven years!

It seems as if volunteering is a natural option for those at the University because they are able to get professional skills they wouldn’t otherwise have access. Similar to the United States, where internships are the norm before getting a real job, volunteering has become increasingly common in the West Bank. Professor Jawad Fatayer, of An Najah University, stresses that this desire is more than just professional. It is also personal. Volunteers feel a sense of community through their work, that they are making an impact. That is probably why so many of the volunteers stay. Most of the volunteers we interviewed had been with TYO since the beginning. It is great to see how comfortable they are with the kids.

After waiting for a bit, our bus arrives. I thank the firemen for their time and prepare for a relaxing and reflective ride back. I am starting to feel less like the new kid and more like a new friend. When we get back, Alaa, Haitham, and Jawad, the Core Child teachers, even invite me to sit with them for lunch. I am touched. I have been used to the familiar territory of the sixth floor; however, it is nice to be around the volunteers whose faces I frequently see, but I’ve never had the opportunity of working side-by-side with. They tell me that all of the volunteers stay throughout the day despite having a break between the morning and afternoon programming. I notice them hanging out in front of the center, or talking in the computer class.

It is a warm feeling coming back to TYO and I understand a little bit better what it means to be a volunteer. It is not just a role, but a mindset. You can tell that it must not always be so easy to work with the kids but the volunteers genuinely enjoy their work. They continue to come and be a part of TYO and the bond is obvious. I become slightly jealous that I don’t have a place like this back home, and a little guilty that I maybe haven’t searched for it as much as these students have. I walk upstairs feeling that sense of accomplishment and fulfillment that Dr. Jawad described. For a little while, it is easy to feel hope and love, to feel an impact, to feel a connection.

- Sarah

Sarah is the journalist for the SOW National Team.

The Best Medicine

It’s no secret – we work hard here at TYO. We spend our days oscillating between grownups and kids. We play freeze tag with 8-year-olds and then head inside to submit our weekly attendance spreadsheets and progress reports. We plan for hours, sometimes days, for an in-class activity and emerge from the office with pink crepe paper accidentally glued to our eyebrows. It’s a curious life in which we have to think like children and plan like adults. It can be overwhelming, which is where the kids serendipitously come in.

In the wise words of Buddy the Elf – I just like smiling; smiling’s my favorite. And nothing inspires more smiles than our sometimes sweet, sometimes infuriating, sometimes hilarious, always awesome kids. Cate recently had an interesting run-in with a water balloon. Samin banters with her kids about John Cena – American pro-wrestler and local kid idol. She’s even learned his signature motion, a stern look and rapid wave of the hand over the face – quite the intimidation technique from the always jovial Samin. And while communicating through the language barrier is always a challenge, we’ve found that a silly  joke or some good-natured teasing translates quite nicely.

I discovered the ‘humor bridge’ during a particularly toasty Sports Day outside with the kids. I was still a little anxious – it was only our second week on the job – and my mind was flooded with deadlines, logistics, and dozens of new names to memorize. As I stood in front of the kids, asking them to line up for the busses (“Sufoo! Sufoo!”) our adorable little bespectacled Nirmin ran up to me with a purple flower in her outstretched hand.

I was touched. I thanked her for the gift and, looking helplessly at my notebook in one hand and water in the other, placed the flower behind my ear. The other kids noticed my reaction, and soon I was an alarmed island in a sea of purple flowers clenched in cute little 8-year-old hands. I panicked – I couldn’t hold all of them in my hands but I certainly didn’t want to drop them. In a flash of ingenuity (or insanity) I began placing them at various locations on my head.

Very soon, I looked like an Amy-tree. Purple flowers sprouted from the back of my head, spilled over the corners of my ears and dipped precariously over my forehead. It was spontaneous. It was absurd. It was, apparently, hilarious.

I got a smile from even the most stoic of kids. A few of the adults regarded me with a sort of detached pity, but eventually cracked a smile. Some of the volunteers whom I hadn’t yet met giggled and lined up to take pictures. The anxiety melted away. I remembered why laughing – even if it’s at myself – is my absolute favorite pastime.

So I guess we don’t always have to choose between acting like adults or playing like kids. Sometimes we’re just a big group of humans, laughing at a girl who may or may not have bugs in her hair.

-Amy

On the Farm With Fawaz

Every Sunday and Tuesday evening, I have Arabic lessons with an amazing teacher named Fawaz. I’m an absolute beginner at Arabic so class with him is always challenging, but he is incredibly patient and kind. When he mentioned a few weeks ago that he wanted to bring his Tuesday Arabic students to his farm on the outskirts of Nablus, I was really excited to spend some time talking with him and some of the other interns outside of our professional setting.

Fawaz picked us up after work last Tuesday and drove us out to his farm after stopping at a convenience store and calling out from the car window for the store clerk to bring a bottle of 7Up to him. (I can’t get over the fact that this is seen as totally normal in Palestine and, if I did this back home in the United States, I’d be laughed at for not just walking into the store.)

When we arrived at the farm, we sat and drank our 7Up, ate cookies and chatted about our experience in Palestine so far. I really enjoyed hearing more about his family and his travels abroad. Fawaz was in America in the 1980s and talked about the hit songs that were playing in the discos at the time and we all laughed when he sang a line from “Celebration” by Kool and the Gang! He then took us for a walk around the farm where he grows vegetables and some fruits and he taught us the names for all of them (and I was concentrating so hard on not stepping on vegetables that I already forgot most of the names).

One of my favourite parts of the evening was the drive we took to one of the highest points in Nablus where we had a fantastic view of the city and a gorgeous pink sunset. The views in Nablus never cease to amaze me. I often sit on the balcony staring at the lights of the city and think about how lucky I am to live here and have the opportunity to meet wonderful people, like Fawaz.

After four weeks in Nablus I already know I will miss this place terribly when I leave. I look forward to the rest of my time here. I am eager to spend more time getting to know Palestine and its people.

- Megan

Megan is a summer intern at TYO Nablus.

Intern Journal: The Happy Moments in Between

Living and working in Nablus is filled with its daily challenges and sometimes even a little bit of contained chaos. During Sunday’s meeting, all of the interns were able to reflect on the little moments that gave us joy in the past week. These are the moments that sustain and drive us to do our best.

For me, there were several moments to choose from this week that were both hilarious and enlightening. On Tuesday, my students learned about and made paper fans using popsicle sticks, tape, construction paper, and watercolors. Half and hour into the class, I noticed something odd sitting on one of the tables. It was small, round and yellow…a water balloon? I looked down to see Eiz, probably the tinniest students in my class, meticulously painting with the concentration of Picasso. I came to find out that Eiz had smuggled his water balloon into class and had kept it under his shirt for most of our activity. While it’s unclear what his intentions were, I’m pretty sure they were somewhat innocent. Still, he didn’t get his precious contraband back until after the day was over.

More of these joyous moments happened during class presentations. Prior to having class presentations, I assumed that only a small number of students would volunteer to present their work. Even in an American classroom, 8-10 year old students can be incredibly shy and reserved. And when you add the highly traumatic nature of growing up as a refugee, I was pleasantly surprised that nearly half of my students’ hands shot up when I asked them to come to the front of the classroom. One of my favorite presentations was made by Ibrahim who presented his painting in Arabic and then again in English, just to practice.

Another one of my favorite presentations was made by Ayman, who told the class that his fan was a picture of boys and girls playing nicely together. Considering the fact that, on a good day, I have to fight to get my male and female students to sit at the same table, this felt like a small victory for gender parity.

Finally, there’s Leen, a girl with confidence and wisdom to spare. The oldest child in her family, I found her several times this week helping her fellow students to sound out new words,encouraging shy students to present their work in front of the class, and gently explaining steps in our art projects with the patience and maturity.

The week’s happy moments culminated in Thursday’s sports day. Whether it was the incessant cheering each time the ball was hit during our volleyball game or our insane game of “Snakes in Grass”, I absorbed enough joy for all of the interns combined.

- Cate

Cate is a summer intern at TYO Nablus.