I don’t know exactly why the people of Twane cancelled this year’s summer camp. Two weeks ago, when we planned already the summer camp in Silwan instead, Hafez called me and said: “Listen, some have promised to organize something for the children, but the summer is nearly over and nothing has happened. So I have decided, that we must organize a summer camp and I can’t do it without your help”.
Within one week we had to organize two summer camps. One had to compete with last year’s very successful summer camp (and the other had to be organized right after the first!). Just that this year, the people who had organized last year were not available. Some where already packing to leave the country and others were so involved in the many political events of this period that it was even hard to get them on the phone – let alone to get them to call the volunteers from last year. And me, I am new here. I don’t know many people and I have no experience. Luckily there was Roee. As head of a hostel it was stressful for him as well to organize a summer camp, but he was cooler than me and every time we talked, he said “ don’t worry, it will be o.k.”.
Indeed, somehow new and old volunteers appeared, each of them with special talents, who were willing to invest time and effort for children, who live under poor and stressful circumstances. They made it possible to offer these kids such a variety of activities and projects.
And me, who have never been in a summer camp myself was happy each time a child asked for help, so that I could participate, build, dance, jump and see and hear – how happy they have been.
– This summer camp has inspired me and the others so much that I thought to add a bit more, from my point of view, so I decided to attach three diary-entries of this week to let you have part.
Saturday.
We have planned to start the day with painting T-Shirts for the camp. Hafez was quite skeptic with my idea. He said these children would not get often new clothes and he wonders if they will be willing to paint on them. None of us had thought about this.
When we arrived in Twane – as always late – 70 kids waited for us in seven rows in front of the school. They had come from Twane, Mufakara, Tuba, and Sussya. On that day the army reported that children from all over area were on their way to Twane. It was an amazing image. Over the course of the morning more and more children arrived until at the end of the day we counted 120 children.
So no wonder that from the first day on, I felt things were getting out of hand. The children fought for each tiny piece of material as if it was their only and last chance. I felt bad. I had the feeling I could not handle the situation and I could not make sure that every child would get the help and attention he or she needed to make this first day a success for them. I was like in trance through which I heard Roee say: “relax. The children are happy.”
Saturday night I went to the Mall to get 50 more soap-bubble-games. When I arrived at the Malcha-Mall it seemed as if the whole Jerusalem were there. Long lines of cars waiting to get into the parking lot. When the doors opened in front of me it took my breath away. Children wherever I looked, with gleaming eyes in front of the shops, balloons in their one hand, with the other had holding on to their parents or grandparents who were there to make each of their beloved wishes come true. In the toy store the shop teller wished me a happy birthday-party. She had thought that I was shopping for my child’s party.
I tried to get out of the shopping mall as fast as possible. I guess I was overtired which was the reason I could not stop thinking about those children who started walking early this morning without waiting for the army patrol on long routes to Twane, the children of Sussya who had the night before witnessed soldiers beating up their fathers and uncles. The faces of these many excited children who were living an hour drive from Jerusalem under terrifying conditions. What made me feel so tired and sad tonight is that what I really would like these children to have instead of a week summer camp is a year without their routine of fear – and it provokes in me this deep feeling of vain, when I know that this is not in my hands.
Monday.
One of the leaders in the village, who had participated in last years summer camp, said he can’t come to help with the summer camp this year because too many of us western, indecent woman are there. I wonder if this was even the reason that they cancelled the summer camp in the first place. I felt insulted. This morning when I found myself – a grown up woman in T-shirt and trousers - jumping in a jute-sack for the girls (who were too shy) against the boys with a crown out of carton on my head, (that I had brought a long to make it later with them) I could see in their faces that they were ashamed for me. Luckily I was already completely in action – otherwise I might have stopped because their looks irritated me.
I have asked myself, how much I really respect the people from South Hebron, their traditions, their way of life and their beliefs. I always felt that I do respect it – I tolerate it. I have always made sure to wear long sleeves, when I knew we would visit a house. On days we would go there for an action, I allowed myself to wear a T-Shirt – for me this is far from being indecent. The difference is just, that for the people in South Hebron there is no occasion on which women wear trousers and T-Shirts. – and as my friend put it: ‘would you show up at a vegetarian’s house with a big steak in your hand?’ Probably not. How much did we as “activists” take enough into consideration the way of life of the people we were coming to help. How many times did we take for granted that the villagers whom we come “to help” will and must understand? How many times did we miss out to tell women, who were joining us to dress decent? – and what is decent anyway? What do the women in Twane think about us Israeli women behaving and dressing indecent, when we are communicating and interacting only with their men?
With the days I feel more and more that there might be no satisfying answer to this question. We stand at ‘fundamentally’ different ends of a view. I still have a hard time to convince myself, that the right way to show them my respect is to dress like a Muslim woman. For the time being, I will let this question rest. But I don’t feel insulted anymore.
This morning I obviously managed to inspire the girls – whether they thought I was ridiculous or not – some of the younger girls found the courage to jump in a jute-sack. And Na’im’s daughters fell in love with my carton crown, which they wore all day long.
Friday.
Anat, Ezra and me joined the two busses from Twane cramped with children men and women – old and young – on their way to the swimming pool in Jericho. Anat and I were dressed in long sleeves and with headscarfs. Our part to Ta’ayush: One week long they have “tolerated” us Israeli women in T-Shirts and trousers – today we wanted to pay them respect. I was so hot. The bus had no air-conditioning. The girls showed us how to cool the hot head under the headscarf, by pouring water on your head and keeping the cloth wet. All drive long Arabic music played loud trough the music boxes. The girls were playing the drums without rest and the children were dancing along the hallway. This was their day-trip this year – for most of them the first one in their lives. And with every hilltop we passed they yelled “bachar!” – sea – with growing excitement.
The swimming-pool was beautiful. Extending on a very large area with a restaurant grass and palm tress, which reminded of better times, when all the tables must have been full. There were three pools. One for men and two for women and children. We women entered the water with all clothes on even with our headscarfs on, but at least there was no separating screen. So we could watch the men in their pool from short distance… I found myself today sitting on the edge of the women’s pool in a row together with young women, watching the men who were posing in front of their pool in short trousers and making impressive jumps into their larger pool.
The women didn’t know to swim. Anat carried them endlessly through the water back and forth trying to teach them to swim - and giving them the experience of floating on water’s surface. I stood outside and took pictures. I asked myself, why I have been so passive today. Maybe I was just tired and filled with so many thoughts and questions without answer, that I was quiet and powerless. Or maybe my “decent dressing” made me silent and passive.
Ezra the invincible rebel, whose bones hurt the last weeks, didn’t seem to get tired at all. The whole day, from the minute they entered the water, the boys didn’t let go of him. While we women were already sitting outside of the water waiting for the bus home, he was still jumping with the kids inside the pool. – Gulliver against the dwarfs. To get the children out of the water we had to ask the life guard to announce through his microphone that the busses to Twane and Sussya were leaving.
All children were already in the busses, when I saw Alia standing still outside, refusing to get into the bus without Ezra. When we found the giant, he decided to pack her with us back in his car and drive us to Twane. But at the check point in Abu Dis a soldier stopped us and refused to let us pass. Israelis are not allowed to pass through that checkpoint. We started to discuss and tried to convince him. In the middle of the argument the soldier stopped and asked: “ wait a moment, are you Ezra?” and when Ezra said it was him, the soldier smiled and waved us through.
The sun fell this hour. Shortly before Twane Alia cried out: “Camels!” Ezra stopped the car and took Alia’s hand and went with her to look at the camels. I think this was my moment of ultimate happiness. I wish I had had the language to tell that Na’im’s wife and his mother when I sat with them in front of their house in Twane and showed them in the digital camera the pictures I took on our day trip.