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The LAYLAC Center

by Alexandra

My volunteer agency, the LAYLAC Center, is a youth empowerment center that allows for a safe and fun environment for the youth of Dheisha Refugee Camp to interact with their peers and with international volunteers. On any given day, one can find a group of teens and young volunteers, making activist documentary films, dancing Dabke, or just drinking coffee and hanging out in the rooftop lounge.

Every time I come in to LAYLAC, I meet countless talented and incredible young adults. I honestly feel like I wasn't able to contribute much through my own volunteering, but I have learned immensely from my time hanging with these Palestinian shabab. They are an incredible group of people who will lead the next generation, and I feel blessed to have spent my summer hearing their stories and learning from them.

Guest Speakers and the Tent of Nations

By Nathan

As part of our program we've had the opportunity to hear from a number of guest speakers who've covered a wide range of topics including history, Christian Zionism, refugees, Islamic movements, women's rights, illegal home demolitions, the Intifadas and more. Just yesterday, we had leadership training in non-linear thinking from Sami Awad, the director of Holy Land Trust. We then heard from Daoud Nassar at the Tent of Nations speak about his family’s peaceful struggle to hold onto their land and their guiding philosophy of "We refuse to be enemies."

These talks have given us a wealth of information, and challenged us to think critically about the complex issues surrounding the conflict, as well as examine our own actions and assumptions. Daoud was especially inspiring because of his persistence in years of adversity despite countless efforts to drive him off his family's land. This persistence has been rewarded, and Daoud and the Tent of Nations have become leaders in the field of sustainability, partially as a result of the very actions Israel has taken to make him leave, such as cutting off his water and electricity, and (once the Wall is finished) even his access to the rest of the West Bank. The fact that he has done so much in the face of so much external pressure, and that he still maintains a loving attitude towards his "enemies" despite everything, inspired all of us.

Me and My Host Sisters

by Kalyani

Due to a mix-up with housing, I was supposed to be with my current host family for two days before moving on. However, in the end I chose to stay on with them, and have been here for six weeks. I have two amazing parents and three little sisters, between the ages of 4 and 8.

I've learned the most from the girls, whether it's phrases in Arabic like how to say "Can I play with your hair?" or how to use a gas stove. They've also learned from me: they now say "oh my gosh!" when they spill things (or "oh my tosh!" in the little one’s case). A few nights ago, after a long ordeal with putting the older two to bed, the younger one and I got to hang out. As we lay on the floor dozing off and watching "How to Train Your Dragon" dubbed into Arabic, I realized that I truly feel at home with my Palestinian family.

Breaking the Silence Tour in Hebron

by Jamie

Earlier this month, we had the chance to visit Hebron and participate in a city tour with Breaking the Silence, an organization founded by former Israeli combatants who served in the Occupied Territories. The aim of the organization is to raise awareness about the daily realities of those living under occupation and stimulate public discussion of these issues among Israelis.

We started off the tour near Shuhada Street, where we gathered in a hidden room behind a souvenir shop. Our tour guide, Shai, began by giving us a view into his personal experience as an IDF combatant in the West Bank. He recounted several of his experiences for the group, including being ordered to chase a young child while holding a loaded firearm because the kid was playing near a security fence, and searching Palestinian households at random for the purpose of "making the IDF's presence felt" within the community.

After the introduction, we began walking through an almost entirely deserted "ghost town." As it turns out, this abandoned street is called Al-Shuhada Street and was the bustling commercial center of Hebron until about 20 years ago. Shay explained that in 1994 all its businesses were closed by the army "for security purposes" following the murder of 29 Muslim worshipers at the Cave of the Patriarchs by the Israeli settler Baruch Goldstein. As we walked down the street, we encountered several placards that told a very different story about the street's closure. According to the signs, "these stores were closed by the IDF for security reasons after the Arabs began the 'Oslo War' [aka The Second Intifada] in September 2000, attacking, wounding and murdering Jews on this road." A quick fact check proves this to be false as the reason for the street's closure, not to mention that The Second Intifada began six years after the stores were closed. There is no doubt that the Jewish settler community in Hebron did experience many detestable acts of violence, including several murders, but that does not change the fact that the sign's claims are nonfactual propaganda meant to mislead its readers and evoke a negative opinion of the city's Palestinians.

As we continued up Al-Shuhada Street, passing a military base and several settlements, we encountered a pedestrian checkpoint separating the settler communities and a Palestinian commercial area. As we were finishing our tour near the checkpoint, a young Palestinian man began to walk through the checkpoint while singing a song to himself. One of the Israeli soldiers on duty told him "shtok!" ("shut up!"), but he continued walking, singing to himself as before. At this point he was stopped, searched, questioned and prevented from leaving for about ten minutes, all because he was singing.

Seeing and listening to the history and present-day reality of this small slice of Hebron was not easy. Frankly, nothing in Palestine has been easy. There is so much suffering and resentment on both sides of the separation wall that it can put a damper on your hopes for a better future. But hearing courageous testimonies and messages of hope from people like Shai and Breaking the Silence bring some of that hope and optimism back. I'm so appreciative of what they are doing. May there be more people and communities like them, willing to speak out against the occupation and work for truth, peace and reconciliation.

Arabic Lessons: The Three Rules for the Volunteer Who is Terrible at Learning Languages

by Lauren

When volunteers start the Palestine Summer Encounter, some of them already know a decent amount of Arabic. While many others don't, they love learning new languages and can hardly wait to begin taking Arabic classes.

Me, on the other hand?

The idea of Arabic lessons made me feel nauseous. Please don't get me wrong, it's not a problem I have with the particular language or culture. It's just that I'm absolutely rubbish at understanding any foreign language. I've spent most of my life taking (when not skipping) classes or braving taster sessions in all sorts of tongues, yet to no avail.

Welsh? I can only read road signs and they're all bilingual anyway. German? I could probably order a beer. French? I know enough to make fun of French people. Spanish? I could start a fight at a football match, not that I'd try. Russian? I don't actually know any but everyone here who works in the tourism industry assumes otherwise, which still remains a mystery to me. Mandarin? I'm aware that the words for "mother" and "horse" are very similar but I'm not as aware of which is which.

I'm being serious here! This is the person who studied in Hong Kong for half a year and came back only knowing the Cantonese phrase for "excuse me".

I am the boorish, bumbling Brit abroad.

Has Palestine been any different? I am relieved to say yes! Not because I woke up one day, the magic of the Holy Land making me into a polyglot, but because there was a motivation that was never there before.

That motivation? My host family.

You see, when I was picked up on my first day, it was only in the car on the way to the house that I was told the host mother I'd be staying with speaks no English. You can imagine the horror that struck me when hearing that! I didn't know any words in Arabic and with the amount of hospitality she then showed me, I was frustrated that I couldn't express my gratitude.

The next day, I learnt my first word in Arabic. "Thank you".

It should be mentioned that the lessons themselves haven't been much different to how I was taught in school, but it's the immersion into daily life in Palestine which both really helps and really makes attempting Arabic a worthy pursuit.

So no matter where your own motivation comes from, I've created three rules for the volunteer who is terrible at learning languages, taken my own embarrassing experiences to spare you from making the same mistakes. Admittedly, I haven't always followed them but I'm never one to listen to good advice either!

1) ENTHUSIASM COMPENSATES FOR INCOMPETENCE.

Everyone can very likely tell you are not a native Arabic speaker. Don't sweat it if you struggle to find the words, it's better to at least try than to not try at all. At worst, you learn something new and gain from the experience. At best, you're better than you realise. Either way, people appreciate the effort and you can meet some interesting people you wouldn't speak to otherwise, from playful children to the patient elderly.

If the alternative is appearing aloof or uninterested, there's nothing scary about attempting a conversation.

Personally speaking, I've charmed my way into getting a few discounts at the market (or maybe those were given out of pity).

2) BE CREATIVE, LIFE ISN'T A TEXTBOOK.

This might sound like something your aunt would post on your Facebook wall but I'll still stand by it. You might not know the grammar but it's worth playing around with words and using them in ways you weren't taught to. It might not be perfectly correct to say but it's possible for the other person to understand your meaning.

When I've planned to stay the night in a place like Nablus or Jerusalem, my host mother understood with a handful of badly mispronounced words.

Sometimes, however, you have no words at your disposal. In that case, feel free to wildly gesticulate and speak obnoxiously slow English. Improvise! Once, I needed to urgently know the Arabic for "please come help me, there's a giant spider in my room and it looks potentially deadly and a bit peeved off". Instead, I screamed.

Unfortunately, no-one was in the house.

3) JUST BECAUSE YOU KNOW HOW TO SAY IT, DOESN'T MEAN THEY WILL LISTEN.

Like many host mothers, mine likes to a feed me a lot. Like, really. A lot. My relief to learn the word for "a little" came as a huge relief, until I first tried it.

My host mother motioned to her mouth; her way of asking me if I'd like to eat something now.

"Yes, but a little," I answered in my awful Arabic.

"A little." She repeated after me, smiling as if I had told her a joke.

She came back with a plate of food which I suspect was a bigger portion than usual.

However, sometimes the context is less comfortable. Whether it's a pushy taxi driver asking if you'd like to go to Jericho for the three hundredth time or a salesman that hovers over your shoulder in a shop, don't blame yourself if they can't understand. It often seems to be the case that it's not that they can't understand but they'd rather you were saying something else. In that case, be firm and know that body language and tone of voice can speak louder than the actual words.

I don't think I'll pursue Arabic any further after I leave Palestine but I still appreciate being able to learn it here. It opens up opportunities not otherwise available and leads to some memorable moments that you'll take back with you.

I'm growing more confident and feeling more independent with each successful interaction, which will aid me when I move to Germany later this year and try my hand once again at German (and at least I can order a beer first!)

Nabi Samuel

by Timmy

During one of our trips we visited a place called Nabi Samuel. If ever someone is lacking inspiration and belief in their ability to come through tough times, a trip here has the potential to help you gain the required strength.

For a start, there is a denial among some that village even exits. An Israeli official earlier in the year stated stated, "There is no village, there is a park". From having been there, however, I can say there most definitely exists a village. People here have been living here for all of their lives and have had to put up with the most trying of circumstances. Due to a nearby historical site the area is indeed designated a national park, and it is this title which means the people who live there suffer restrictions on the most basic of human rights. National park designation means no construction without a permit. No construction means that the response to the planting of olive trees is a demolition order, the response to the building of a fence around a school to keep kids safe is a demolition order, and any essential maintenance to property is not allowed.

The people are also on the wrong side of the separation wall, and as well as largely being denied access to Jerusalem, getting to some parts of the Palestinian territories presents a further challenge. To bring adequate amounts of food back they need a permit, at times they have a permit but are for no good reason denied entry with the food. Harassment from military is also widespread with people who are active in standing up for their rights receiving particularly rough treatment.

It is clear, however, that the people of Nabi Samuel are treated as mere pawns in a wider game. The Israeli authorities need them out of their current spot to further develop infrastructure connecting settlements to Jerusalem and they are doing everything in the power to make the villagers’ lives as uncomfortable as possible.

The human spirit, however, is going strong among the people of Nabi Samuel. They are doing what they can, and are even involving themselves in activities that promote feminist rights. Such things help give meaning to their lives, as for them this is a battle for survival. Through the Palestinian Summer Encounter I am proud to have met such people.

Getting to Know My Host Family

by Justine

I have officially been living here in Palestine for almost three weeks! The time has truly flown by! Everyday I am learning more and more Arabic and am able to understand phrases and conversations that I otherwise would not have been able to crack during my first couple days. I am living with the most wonderful host family imaginable! Mary and Tony are a little slice of heaven. Since I come from a Palestinian background, they are the spitting image of my Sita and Sido back in America. Mary always cooks the most delicious food and offers to do my laundry and anything else I need. Thankfully she speaks some English and Tony is practically fluent in English so I never have any problems communicating. They repeatedly remind me to "Treat this like my home." Gradually Mary has allowed me to become more independent and I have started to prepare my own food and can grab whatever I want out of the refrigerator when I'm hungry. They also have the most gorgeous view of Bethlehem from their roof. Upstairs from the first floor of their house is a garden roof! The roof is Tony's sanctuary. Every morning and evening he slips up there to tend to his garden full of fresh veggies and herbs. He always comes downstairs with a flower in hand for me or any guest visiting the house. He also has pet pigeons and a dog named Tequila. I am really grateful for getting to live with my host family. They are so kind and generous and I have even managed to bond with their grandchildren who visit frequently. They have managed to make me feel very at home in a place that is easily the farthest place I've ever been from my home. They are so hospitable and gracious and I already know I am going to stay in touch with them long after this program ends.

Cooking Class in Al-Azza Refugee Camp

by Nathan

On Thursday we went to the Al-Azza refugee camp to learn how to make Maqluba from a Palestinian family living there. Maqluba is a traditional Palestinian dish with rice, potatoes, vegetables and meat. Its name means “upside-down” and it’s called that because after you cook it all together in a pot, you flip the pot upside-down onto the serving plate. It was delicious, and I’ll definitely try my hand at it again when I get a chance.

Summer 2015 Arrival

by Rima

There are ten of us who are now starting our summer journey in Bethlehem. We met on June 4, a sweltering summer day, just outside of the Old City of Jerusalem (or in Arabic, Il-Quds). We clambered onto a small bus with all our suitcases, and rode over the Green Line into Bethlehem, where our host families greeted us in the multi-story, open-air courtyard of the Holy Land Trust offices in the Old City. Since then, in less than two weeks, we have toured Bethlehem and its two neighboring cities, Beit Jala and Beit Sahour; we have started work at our volunteer placements, which are scattered throughout the three cities and the three refugee camps in their midst (Aida, Dheisha, and Al-azza); we have begun (or continued) our study of Arabic; we have hiked to the ancient village of Battir (Betar); we have spent seven hours touring Hebron and encountering multiple perspectives on its complex political realities; and much, much more. I feel grateful to be here. Coming here feels like scratching an itch that I've had since first visiting the West Bank in 2010. I am grateful for the incredible hospitality I have encountered here so far, not only from my host family, but also from the staff at my volunteer placement (Jemima in Beit Jala); from the Holy Land Trust staff, who have clearly put an incredible amount of thought and heart (and an amazing local network!) into planning the program; and from all of our guest lecturers, tour guides, Arabic teachers, and all of the other folks whom we have met here so far. It is a great privilege to be here, and, while I know there is no way that we guests can earn our keep, the best thing I know to do with my gratitude is to dedicate myself as deeply as I can to learning Arabic, in the hopes that that will, one day in the not-so-distant future, enable me to be of service.

A trip to Rawabi, Palestine's first planned city, outside of Ramallah provided a fascinating insight into another layer of Palestine and Palestinian society. Rawabi is Palestine's largest private sector project and is envisioned to become a community of its own, housing up to 40,000 people in 6 different neighborhoods. Currently providing over 4,000 jobs to local Palestinians, it is hoped that the city will be itself a source of economic growth, entrepreneurship and employment.

Bashar Masari, the managing director of Rawabi, took time out of his schedule to sit with us and talk about the challenges the project is facing -- mostly political, but also social and cultural -- and his vision for Palestine's growth and development. Rawabi has been momentarily halted by an inability to get water access from the Israeli authorities; yet they've successfully been able to get over other hurdles, such as creation of a round-a-bout to service the population initially opposed by a local Israeli settler population, as well as construction of an access road.

It was truly a whole new world!

Participants had a special meeting with Rula Salameh yesterday, where we had an open discussion about what it means to be a mother in Palestine, and the sacrifices and the tensions she's faced in that role. Her words were inspirational and humbling, and foreshadowed her latest article in the New York Times released today: http://nyti.ms/1qWTcCK

As Rula shared with us about her work and how she seeks to help the most vulnerable and needy families in Palestine, we found courage, hope and perseverance. Thank you, Rula!

So You Think You Can Dance? Palestinian style.

#wadirahal

Last week, participants got cooking lessons -- Ramadan qatayef and arabic salata -- with a family in Wadi Rahal before joining them for iftar. Qatayef are small pancakes filled with cheese or coconut, sugar and walnuts before being baked and drizzled with syrup. A perfect Ramdan sweet!

Meeting Gaza

We had the opportunity to Skype with a woman from Gaza yesterday, who was gracious enough to share with us part of her limited electricity time and allow participants to glimpse into what daily life is like in Gaza, its challenges and its hopes.

“It’s normal to have no electricity…. We can’t watch tv, do our laundry, have the air conditioning or fans, charge our phones or computers. It’s abnormal to the world but normal to us.”

“There is no electricity at the times when we need it most [such as night].”

“ICT graduates and people are the only resources left in Gaza”

“At night you hear the bombing and air strikes. You listen and then go back to sleep”

“Life just needs to continue. Gazans are always finding new ways to be alive. One day there’s a bombing and the next day we go to school.”

[On going to the beach, which is polluted with solid human waste, frequently leading to disease for those who touch and even smell it] “And yet they [Gazans] still go, because there’s no other place they can go.”

“Green areas in Gaza are rare. When you look to Gaza you always see grey color. This grey area and the sea are big problems for Gaza.”

“One of my happiest moments was last year, when for the first time in 12 years, I saw my brothers and sisters. We had a normal week together in Cairo. It was the first time I saw my nieces and my sister and brother in law.”

“All people in Gaza want to have a normal life again. They don’t care about politics. They just want a normal life again, to find jobs, a good place to live, a good environment and health care. “

“Hope? Our hope depends on salary, electricity and the ability to travel out or not.”

“We want life time to come again to Gaza”

“Whatever you hear in the news doesn’t mean we’re not people with hopes, dream and life.”

A few days ago, participants visited the Jenin Freedom Theater, a powerful example of a non-violent way to give a new vision of the future. Serving one of the most attacked and impoverished areas of Palestine, the theater provides children with a safe way to deal with their personal experiences and trauma.

Reflection on the week

Participants highlighted some of their observations of the week, including some of the co-existing contrasts so prevalent in life here.

Observations included:

How to respond as a community: Violence or non-violent?

Economics: Rich men who are now poor because they can not access their olive trees or their livelihood, monopolistic companies and individuals profiting at the expense of their neighbors, the ability to finance "escape."

Heavy and light: Suffering and relentless joy; hearts; attitudes.

"The Israeli occupation began without them knowing you would be here. They built the wall without knowing you would be here. These [Palestinian] families have lived their lives without knowing you would be here. They have planted these flowers without knowing you would be here. Look at the cultures. One is a culture of walls. One is a culture of flowers. If they say in your media that we are terrorists, and this [pointing to flowers] is terrorism, then we want terrorism."

@Baqa al-Sharqiye

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