Members of Abu Sheira's family in front of the tent they set up in the grounds of Al-Shifa hospital, Gaza. Credit: Khaled Alashqar/IPS

By Khaled Alashqar
GAZA CITY, Sep 8 2014 (IPS)

“When the [Israeli] shelling started, I gathered up my family and headed for what I though was a safe place, like a school, but then that became overcrowded and lacked sanitation, so we ended up in the grounds of the hospital.”

Islam Abu Sheira from Beit Hanoun, a city on the north-eastern edge of the Gaza Strip, was speaking to IPS in front of what has been his family’s makeshift ‘home’ at Al-Shifa Hospital in Gaza City for the last two months. His eyes misted over as he recalled his devastated home and his efforts to find a safe refuge for his family."I found no other safe place to shelter in but Al-Shifa Hospital. Together with our seven children we fled into the hospital grounds and slept our first night under trees to escape the Israeli missiles that were destroying whole areas, killing entire families" – Islam Abu Sheira, a refugee from Beit Hanoun, Gaza Strip

In his forties, Islam described his family’s ordeal after Israeli shelling left them homeless and they first sought refuge in a school run by UNRWA, the U.N. relief and development agency for Palestinian refugees, and were then forced by overcrowding and poor sanitary conditions to move out and seek shelter elsewhere.

“I found no other safe place to shelter in but Al-Shifa Hospital. Together with our seven children we fled into the hospital grounds and slept our first night under trees to escape the Israeli missiles that were destroying whole areas, killing entire families, ” said Islam,  adding that “during the war, the only thing we were looking for was a place that could protect us from the shelling.”

Like the majority of Palestinian families whose homes were destroyed, they have lost their belongings and, for the time being, their chances of living a life of dignity. Most families in the Gaza Strip were forced to leave their homes so quickly that they had no time to take anything with them.

“We simply have no livelihood and my children sleep every night on the ground without even a blanket to cover them,” lamented Islam. “We have been living a primitive life since we fled our home without even taking the clothes we need.”

As the numbers of people escaping the shelling mounted, so did the difficulty of sheltering them. Schools did their best, but there were insufficient basic necessities and medical supplies, and they were housing four or five persons, if not more, in each classroom.

Palestinian families whose homes were destroyed by Israeli shelling of Gaza sheltering in a UNRWA school. Credit: Khaled Alashqar/IPS

Jamila Saad, a housewife who is taking care of her 12-member family and also fled to one of the UNRWA schools, told IPS: “The school was receiving more and more refugees, and we and the other refugee families were sharing one toilet. We need a better life for our children and we hope that our home will soon be rebuilt so that we can begin a new life there in our new home.”

The complex and harsh conditions that the Palestinian refugees are suffering in schools and other shelter centres has pushed most international organisations to provide the refugees with as much aid as possible, but this is far from finding a final solution for the refugees’ suffering.

The conditions of the thousands of refugees who have lost their homes has placed the new Palestinian government before an enormous challenge and a huge responsibility to provide these refugee families with care and a secure environment, as well take on the responsibility of implementing the reconstruction programmes financially aided by the European Union and donor states in accordance with ceasefire agreement brokered in Cairo between Israel and Hamas, especially in terms of the reconstruction of Gaza.

Mufid al-Hasayna, Minister of Public Works and Housing in the new Palestinian unity government, told IPS that “the amount of destruction of houses and economic facilities is massive, and the population of Gaza is living under hard conditions, so we are working hard to improve the living conditions of people. We are working on programmes to start reconstruction of the Gaza Strip and rebuild destroyed houses and

Al-Hasayna believes that the blurred vision Palestinians in the Gaza Strip have of their future after 50 days of war and their constant fear of being retargeted by the Israeli occupation forces have only added to a worsening of their situation.

Amjad Shawa, Director of the Palestinian NGO Network, told IPS: “The harsh circumstances that the Gaza Strip underwent over the 50 days of the Israeli occupation’s war reduced the population’s access to water and food and threatened people’s security, while the bombing of residential high ‘towers’ housing dozens of families has left serious impacts on civilians.

According to Shawa, the housing situation is now all the more dramatic because, even before Israel’s ‘Operation Protective Edge’, the Gaza Strip was already suffering from the deficit of 70,000 housing units that had been destroyed in the 2009 and 2012 wars.

“Following the two wars, scheduled housing projects to rebuild the infrastructure were not implemented, and the deficit of housing units has reached a state that has put the population in a situation of real disaster,” Shawa told IPS.

He called on the Palestinian Authority (PA) to form an independent body of Palestinian civil society organisations to create a plan for reconstruction of the Gaza Strip.

According to a report prepared by the Palestinian Central Bureau of Statistics (PCBS), in June 2014 the Gaza Strip was home to an estimated population of 1.76 million living in a coastal area that extends along the Mediterranean Sea and covers approximately 365 square kilometres with a maximum width of 12 kilometres.

The PCBS believes that Gaza Strip’s narrow surface area and high population has contributed to some extent to the distribution of people in large blocks and increased its population density, turning the Strip into one the most densely populated areas in the world.

Population density in the Gaza Strip has reached 2,744 per square kilometre, and experts say this means that food, health and education should be the top priorities for the future development agenda of decision-makers.

(Edited by Phil Harris)

Children at an Israeli-Arab school set their sights high on harmony. Credit: Pierre Klochendler/IPS.

By Pierre Klochendler
KFAR QARA’, Northern Israel, Jan 27 2014 (IPS)

Welcome to Bridge Over the Wadi primary school, one of five bi-national schools under the “Hand-in-Hand” initiative of the Centre of Jewish-Arab Education in Israel. The centre strives to bring children from both communities to learn together in Hebrew and Arabic in the hope that they’ll bridge the divide between the two peoples.

All in all, there are only seven bi-national school establishments in Israel, amidst 3,000 or so separate Jewish and Arab schools.

But among the few, this one is unique. It’s the only such school established in a town populated by Israelis of Arab descent. Here, Jewish children are hosted by their Arab peers.Here, Jewish children are hosted by their Arab peers.

“It’s not an Arab school. Actually, we’re strangers in our own environment,” cautions principal Hassan Agbaria. “We have an offer: acceptance of the other, equality in rights, partnership. Peace is achievable by knowing each other and living together, at least at school.”

A Jewish-Arab school – let alone in an Arab town – is no trivial matter in a country where the Jewish majority is in conflict with the Palestinian people to whom the Arab minority belongs. One in five Israelis is an Arab of Palestinian descent.

Israel’s declaration of independence pledges to “uphold the full social and political equality of all its citizens, without distinction of race, creed or sex.”

In effect, the enduring conflict, persistent mistrust and charges of disloyalty to a state which defines itself essentially as Jewish, recurrent suspicions of unequal treatment, and discrimination based on religious-political identities have all left a deep mark on Israel’s Arabs.

“Children here see neither Arabs nor Jews but people,” stresses Uri Levror from the Jewish village Katzir.

The writing is on the school’s walls. “We must be the change that we wish to see in the world,” say Hebrew and Arabic translations of the adage attributed to Mahatma Gandhi. Parents who send their kids to school here answer the call for change from the existing order of things.

“We mustn’t wait for someone to create change,” says Ofri Sadeh from Katzir.

In this area of Galilee, Arab-origin citizens of Israel are the overwhelming majority. About 150,000 Arabs and 20,000 Jews live side by side, and apart.

Arabs make up 60 percent of the school’s 238 pupils. The staff is equally balanced as each classroom is co-taught by Arab and Jewish teachers.

Nothing is simple or utopian on the school benches. The dichotomy lies in the parents’ expectations and motivation. Through their children, Jews aspire to realise the elusive dream of peace and harmony.

“It’s an opportunity for our children to be imbued with values that are important for me and my husband. I want them to become better persons than us,” says Noga Shitrit, a mother of three from Katzir, and an educator at the mixed kindergarten attached to the school.

Arabs, for their children, desire the fulfilment of a no less elusive social promotion. “The best school!” proclaims Kfar Qara’ resident Rania Yahiya.

Second graders pay tribute to Nelson Mandela, pondering on quoted words of wisdom: “Education is the most powerful weapon we can use to change the world.”

“People discriminate against others because of skin colour, language, gender, identity, Jewish or Arab,” stresses the teacher in Hebrew.

“And then comes Mandela,” another teacher chimes in, in Arabic. “He said, ‘We’re different, but equal.’ He had a dream. Which dream?” she asks, mixing up Mandela and African-American civil rights movement leader Martin Luther King.

“May peace prevail,” comes a reply. “Stop the wars,” says another. The class dream their parents’ dream.

The teacher says, “Jews and Arabs are…” “Different!” the class answers in unison. “Different, but equal,” corrects the teacher.

“We instil these educational values so that threads of peace are woven into the fabric of their lives,” says vice-principal Masha Krasnitsky. “They’re fully conscious of bringing fresh ideas to the world. They’re caught in demanding and challenging situations, but they stand up to the test of courage.”

Under their teachers’ guidance, Arab and Jewish kids rejoice in each other’s holidays playfully.

But when national remembrance days are marked – Holocaust Day or the Day of the Fallen Soldiers – old passions are woken anew.

The school’s educators are in pursuit of a magical identity formula which will draw schoolchildren together around a collective experience untroubled by one seminal event’s memory – the creation of the State of Israel (1948) seen on the other side as the Great Palestinian Catastrophe, or Nakba.

“We’re a laboratory for the Israeli society,” says principal Agbaria. “We try to provide answers to questions which Israelis grapple with for over 60 years. Step by step, we come closer to the vision of living here with a declared identity, without fear.”

Playtime, announces the oriental music on the PA.

Hebrew almost naturally dominates kids talk. And though Arabic is, along with Hebrew, officially recognised and, at school, textbooks are in Hebrew and Arabic and kids learn in both languages, beyond the school’s perimeter Arabic is often perceived as the enemy’s language.

As rain falls, children huddle in a tiny corner, looking a lot alike. It’s been 10 years since this schools was set up. That’s also cause for celebration.

Abed Khatout (left) from the Arab-Israeli band Khalas and Koby Farhi (second from left) from the Jewish band Orphaned Land with musicians in Tel Aviv ahead of joint concerts in Europe. Credit: Pierre Klochendler/IPS.

By Pierre Klochendler
TEL AVIV, Jul 28 2013 (IPS)

Two heavy metal bands, the Israeli-Arab Khalas (‘enough,’ in Arabic) and the Orphaned Land, a Jewish band, performed simultaneously this week under the roof of Club Hangar 13 in the refurbished port of Tel Aviv. The bands are slated to play together this fall in a series of 18 gigs across Europe.

Though the artistic cooperation is hailed as a major breakthrough – it’s quite rare that a Jewish band plays along with an Arab band even if it is an Israel-Arab one – both bands would rather play their heavy metal Rock’n’Roll with a musical twist than play the strings of their conflicting identity.

Abed Khathout, bass guitar player and leader of the Israeli-Arab band, is from Acre in northern Israel. He made sure to downplay expectations during a rehearsal. “We’re metal brothers before anything else. Music is what connects us.”

The ‘disconnect’ is actually with Khalas’s Palestinian brethren from the occupied territories who argue that musical ventures portrayed as coexistence projects condone the Israeli occupation of the West Bank and East Jerusalem.

“Cultivating brotherhood, sharing the stage shows that rock music is above politics,” stressed Koby Farhi, leader of the Jewish band, and lead singer.

Orphaned Land music is a mix of New Age beat. Their lyrics conjure up prophetic peace amongst religions.

Khalas musicians are Israelis of Palestinian descent. They define themselves as Palestinians. Yet how they define themselves is challenged by how others define them.

“We were supposed to have a gig in November in Egypt. One week before the tour, we got cancelled. Well, we have Israeli passports,” said Khathout.

Their beat is imbued in the hafla (party) Cairo style. During their show, they suitably sang Alf Leila wa Leila, (A Thousand Nights), a hit from the legendary Egyptian singer Umm Kulthum.

Orphaned Land has performed in Turkey and boasts it is “popular in the Arab world.” The confusion between Turkish and Arab identities is common in Israel due to the Islamic roots of both Turks and Arabs.

But Orphaned Land is persona non grata in the Arab world. Their undesirable status stems from their Jewish origin.

The musical score played by the two bands has one underlying refrain – music is without borders. Yet, as borders are a core issue of the Palestinian-Israeli conflict, politics takes the lead, and in the final analysis, where you live is who you are.

One in five Israelis is an Arab of Palestinian descent. Indeed, most regard themselves as Palestinians, or as “Israeli Palestinians”. Most Israeli Jews define them as “Israeli Arabs”. Right-wing Israel Jews see them as a ‘fifth column’.

Most Palestinians call them the “1948 Arabs” for remaining in the nascent Jewish state during the troubled times.

When Israel fought its war of independence in 1948-9, hundreds of thousands of Palestinians were forced to become refugees. Many amongst those who remained inside Israel were displaced as “internal refugees”.

For the Palestinians, Israel’s war of independence is the Great Catastrophe, or Naqba.

Farhi made every possible effort to emphasise the spirit of togetherness. “Tonight is the second time we play together – Orphaned Land and Khalas, as Israelis and Arabs,” he said.

But of course both bands are Israeli. The fact is many Israeli Jews, for whom being Jewish and Israeli is almost the same thing, almost unconsciously refer to their Arab compatriots as just Arabs.

And it seemed to suit the Arab band not to be branded as Israeli. It’s not easy to live as part of a minority caught in a war between their people (the Palestinians) and their country (Israel).

“We hate it when everyone expects us to sing about the occupation just for being Palestinians,” said Khathout.

Palestinians from the West Bank and East Jerusalem might disagree. Since the second Intifadah uprising (2000-2005), they’ve been maintaining a cultural boycott of Israel in protest against the occupation.The ‘disconnect’ is actually with Khalas’s Palestinian brethren from the occupied territories who argue that musical ventures portrayed as coexistence projects condone the Israeli occupation of the West Bank and East Jerusalem.

In any case, the strict closures enforced in the West Bank by way of checkpoints, special roads reserved for the settler population, fences and separation walls, don’t help cultural exchanges.

Restriction of movement is being eased during the Muslim holy month Ramadan. The elderly faithful from the West Bank are temporarily allowed to pray at the Haram es-Sharif, Islam’s third holiest shrine, which stands inside Jerusalem’s walled Old City.

The easing of the closure is probably because there are peace talks in the offing.

Apart from the core issue of borders, national identity is a major stumbling block. Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu insists that Israel be recognised by the Palestinians as a “Jewish state”. Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas is opposed to agreeing to such definition of Israel for it would ignore Israel’s large Palestinian minority.

In Gaza, ever since the Islamic Resistance Movement Hamas’s takeover (2007) and the ensuing Israeli siege, artists such as Arab Idol Mohammad Assaf are barred from entering Israel.

The European Union recently announced that, effective 2014, its 28 member-states would be required to differentiate between Israel proper and Israeli settlements in the occupied West Bank and East Jerusalem in all cooperation and funding agreements.

For most Israeli Jews, the 200,000 inhabitants who live in East Jerusalem’s Jewish neighbourhood aren’t settlers; they’re “Jerusalem residents” and, of course, Israelis.

The 400,000 settlers who live in the West Bank define themselves simply as Israelis.

For the EU and many countries who don’t recognise Israel’s legitimacy in the Occupied Palestinian Territories, Israelis who live there define their identity by imposition rather than by recognition.

“I’m strongly against boycotts,” declared Farhi. “The purpose of art is harmony and coexistence precisely in places of disharmony.”

Orphaned Land and Khalas have a modest dream – “to share a bus together” during their grand tour of Europe.

Zein Abu-Mariya (17) with his parents after nine months in Israeli custody. Credit: Pierre Klochendler/IPS.

By Pierre Klochendler
HEBRON, Occupied West Bank, Apr 22 2013 (IPS)

“Three interrogators questioned me for three hours. I was handcuffed. They beat me, slapped me, kicked me, boxed me, accused me of throwing stones; played a video of a demonstration. I denied I was there. So again, they beat me up,” recounts Zein Abu-Mariya, 17, seated on a sofa next to dad.

“They pressured my son to confess,” Hisham chimes in. “‘If you don’t sign, you’ll be treated like an animal,’ they threatened.” Zein acquiesces.

In March 2012, in the dead of night, he was arrested by Israeli soldiers. Thirty-six hours later, he was brought before a judge. He stood at 35 court hearings, spent nine months in the HaSharon jail minors section; yet was never convicted.

In January, his father finally managed to bail him out. Back home, waiting for an impending court hearing, Zein strikes a defiant pose: “I don’t want to go back to jail, but I’m not afraid; I got used to it.”

He’s gone back to school, but he was held back one year. “My friends ask me what jail is like – just in case.”

Zein’s testimony – like that of many other minors – reveals one of the most painfully enduring experiences of life under occupation.

“Put yourself in their shoes,” U.S. President Barack Obama recently told young Israelis. The issue of Palestinian children in Israeli military detention provides a dramatic example of just how far the U.S. president’s plea is from being fulfilled.

In February, 236 Palestinian minors were incarcerated – 39 aged 12 to 15 – reports rights group Defence of Children International.

Each year for the past ten years, 700 children aged 12 to 17, most of them boys, are arrested by Israel – an average of two per day– estimates the United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF) in a report also published in February.

UNICEF concludes that ill-treatment of imprisoned children “appears to be widespread, systematic and institutionalised” throughout the process, from arrest to interrogation, prosecution, eventual conviction and condemnation.

Its report points to practices that “amount to cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment according to the Convention on the Rights of the Child and the Convention against Torture” ratified by Israel.

Parents aren’t always notified of their child’s arrest. Most arrests occur at night. During questioning, minors are denied access to a lawyer, or the presence of a relative. Most are accused of throwing stones at Israeli soldiers and vehicles.

“These stones can cause death,” maintains Israeli Foreign Ministry deputy spokesperson Ilana Stein. “But putting children in jail isn’t something we like.”

The report’s 38 recommendations for bettering the rightful protection of Palestinian children are assigned dutiful consideration. “We actually worked on the report with UNICEF because we want to improve the treatment of detained Palestinian children,” Stein says.

“Such Israeli reaction is good,” welcomes ‘Adli Da’ana, education officer with UNICEF in Hebron. “But on March 20, they grabbed 27 kids in the Old City of Hebron, just like that, in one fell swoop. So is this what they call re-considering their policy?”

Military laws are particularly harsh on children.

The alternative Israeli website 972.com recently brought up the imaginary case study of two 12-year-olds – one Israeli settler, one Palestinian – getting into a fight, and compared the judicial consequences.

An Israeli minor sees a judge within 12 hours; for a Palestinian child, it could take up to four days. Before seeing a lawyer, an Israeli child can be held for two days, a Palestinian child for 90 days. An Israeli child can be held 40 days without charge; a Palestinian child, 60 days.

A 12-year-old Israeli can’t be held during trial; a 12-year-old Palestinian can be held up to 18 months before trial.

Chances of bail before trial stand at 80 percent for Israeli children, at 13 percent for Palestinian children. And while there is no custodial sentencing in Israeli civilian law for a minor under 14, a 12 year-old Palestinian can be incarcerated under Israeli military law.

“The most urgent change is to ensure children spend the least possible time in jail,” urges Na’ama Baumgarten-Sharon, researcher at B’tselem, the Israeli human right organisation. “Children must be brought before a judge in much less time.”

Implemented starting Apr. 2, a military order supposed to reduce the length of pre-trial detention stipulates that Palestinian children under 14 should be brought before a judge within 24 hours of arrest and children aged 14 to 18 within 48 hours.

“Even when there’s realisation that things need to change, it’s a slow process,” notes Baumgarten-Sharon. “The only form of punishment is jail. There’s no other alternative.”

Smain Najjar lives in the Jewish-controlled part of Hebron. Only 17, he’s already been arrested four times on suspicion of stone throwing.

“The first time, it was while playing soccer with friends. I was nine. They locked me in a cold-storage box for six hours; then let me go.

“The second time – I was 11 – they held me for three hours at a nearby checkpoint because I got into an argument with a settler my age.

“The third time, they took me to the nearby settlement’s police station; I was 14.

“The fourth time – last November, during Israel’s military operation on Gaza – I spent four days at the Ofer detention centre. I’d been arrested on my way home from an evening shift at a coffee shop.”

Anxious, his mother Suad kept calling his cellphone. After a while, a voice answered, and ordered, “Stop calling this number, we’ve arrested your child.”

Smain has dropped out of school. “Maybe I’ll become a sports coach,” he says.

“We help these kids find their future, rebuild their personality. Unfortunately, sometimes we fail. Once arrested, it’s a cycle of arrests,” says psycho-social counsellor Ala’ Abu-Ayyash.

Smain likes to take refuge in his dovecote. He says the doves provide an escape from the darkness of life. The doves circle in disarray till one is caught.

Readings in Hebrew at a centre in Tel Aviv tell Israelis about the Nakba. Credit: Jillian Kestler-D’Amours/IPS.

By Jillian Kestler-D'Amours
TEL AVIV, Apr 18 2013 (IPS)

Fireworks went off over the Tel Aviv skyline this week as thousands of flag-waving Israelis marked the 65th anniversary of their country’s founding. At the same time, a smaller group of Israeli activists explored the other, most often ignored, side to their country’s creation: the forced displaced of hundreds of thousands of Palestinians.

Israeli group Zochrot (‘Remembering’ in Hebrew) unveiled the first Hebrew-language map on this year’s Israeli Independence Day, detailing hundreds of Palestinian villages that were destroyed in historic Palestine from the beginning of the Zionist movement until the war of 1967.

The map also includes Jewish and Syrian villages that were destroyed, dating as far back as the late 1800s.

Each former village and town is marked with a dot – red, blue, yellow, pink, purple or green – to indicate its type, and when and how its residents were displaced. The names of the Israeli communities that were built over the Palestinian ones are also marked.

“It’s about time, no?” said Zochrot founder Eitan Bronstein, laughingly, about why the organisation decided to create a Nakba map in Hebrew.

“For us, it’s very important not only to show the destruction, but to show it as the background of what’s happening today. It’s crucial to acknowledge that where we live today is close to that (former Palestinian) town, or village, or so on,” Bronstein told IPS.

The Palestinian Nakba (‘catastrophe’ in Arabic) refers to the 750,000 Palestinians who were forcibly expelled or who fled from their homes and villages before and during the foundation of the state of Israel in 1947-48.

Israeli forces depopulated and destroyed over 500 Palestinian villages during this time, and in the years that followed. Palestinian refugees have been barred from returning to their homes ever since; today, Palestinians constitute the largest refugee population in the world, and many still live in refugee camps in the West Bank, Gaza Strip, Jordan, Syria and Lebanon.

Fifty-two-year-old Hanna Farah is originally from the Palestinian village Kufr Bir’im, not far from the Lebanese border in the Galilee region of northern Israel. His family was forcibly displaced in 1948, and he grew up as an internally displaced refugee in his mother’s village Jesh, also in the Galilee.

“Always I am from Kufr Birim – always and forever,” Farah, who now lives in Jaffa, told IPS at the Nakba map launch event. He said he hoped having a Nakba map in Hebrew would finally open Israelis’ eyes to their history, and help them acknowledge the Nakba.

“When they go to the park and have a BBQ, they are sitting on the stones of Palestinian houses. Maybe this (map) will be a little bit of an electric shock,” Farah said. “Most of them cover their eyes. They don’t want to look because it’s uncomfortable for them. Maybe now they would be open to see the real problem and discuss it on a real level.”

Israeli activist Rivka Vitenberg stressed the importance of discussing the Nakba, especially in a society where only the Israeli narrative is taught in schools, and the Palestinian experience is all but ignored.

“When I grew up here, all the time the teachers said that we have only one state and the Arabs have 22 states. When I started to know about the Palestinian point of view, I saw it wasn’t exactly like this. There were people living here,” Vitenberg told IPS.

“I want people to remember the Nakba. It’s a very important part of history. We have to know it.”

In February, a study by the Council of Religious Institutions of the Holy Land found that both Israeli and Palestinian school textbooks present “unilateral national narratives”, and historical events – such as the Palestinian Nakba, or, as it is known to most Israelis, the state’s war of independence – are “selectively presented to reinforce each community’s national narrative.”

Still, according to Eitan Bronstein at Zochrot, there has been a gradual shift in Israeli society towards discussing the Nakba more openly, thanks in part to the increased visibility of Palestinian refugees’ demand to return home, and Israeli government efforts to suppress the Nakba.

In 2011, Israel passed a controversial law – known as the Nakba Law – that barred institutions receiving state funding from hosting events to commemorate the Nakba. An original, eventually scrapped, version of the law would have made marking the Nakba a criminal offence punishable by up to three years in prison.

“If it would be ten years ago, people would tell us, what’s this? They didn’t know what’s the word (Nakba). Today, for sure, more people are open to know it,” Bronstein said.

“We are going to distribute (the map) to university teachers, high school teachers, headmasters, libraries, journalists… I really hope that it will open more places for discussion.” (END)

Palestinian and Israeli children playing together. Credit: Rivanna Miller/IPS.

By Justin Hyatt
JERUSALEM, Aug 29 2012 (IPS)

On a sunny summer afternoon, kids start arriving with their parents at a park near Ein Rafa, a Palestinian village in the south of Jerusalem. The Arabic speaking kids stay in one cluster at first, and the Hebrew speaking kids chat among themselves. Soon a ball appears, and before long all the kids intermingle in a fast-paced game of Chinese football.

The adults begin to spread blankets on the ground, and set out the food they brought with them. It’s looking to be a promising picnic, with games, food and fellowship.

Pupils from participating schools meet for common activities several times a year as part of a joint Jewish-Palestinian intercultural school programme launched by The Centre for Creativity in Education and Cultural Heritage (CCECH), a non-profit-making organisation based in Jerusalem.

Ahmed Barhum, 26, is one of the adults present on the occasion, a celebratory get-together for another successful year. Barhum was once a pupil, and is currently a facilitator in this school programme.

“Being a part of this has touched every aspect of my life,” says Barhum. “Thanks to folklore, games and other things, we can get to know each other’s cultures, and that is precious.”

For Simon Lichman, founder and director of the programme, people like Ahmed keep him going. “Seeing Ahmed and other alumni of the programme come back and become part of our team, investing time and energy in something they believe in, is thrilling.”

Dr. Lichman, a British-born resident of Jerusalem, founded CCECH and the school outreach programme in 1991. Since then, he has been running it together with his partner Rivanna Miller, and with other dedicated staff of both Arab and Jewish backgrounds.

The scope of the programme is simple: Arab and Jewish schools from both west and east Jerusalem (all within the jurisdiction of the Education Department of the Jerusalem Municipality) are paired up and work towards creating long-term relationships. Pupils in fourth through sixth grades participate for at least two years with the same pairs of classes meeting each time in a series of joint activities.

Each class has one lesson a week built into their school curriculum. They meet together with the other schools every few months.

The programme includes traditional play and traditional food. But everyone also shares talk of traditions in religion, and family stories, besides the song and dance. Pupils interview parents and grandparents about their own cultural and religious traditions, bringing information and examples to the class.

Palestinians from East Jerusalem do not usually intermingle with their Jewish neighbours. Such occasions that bring them face to face are quite unique.

Lack of funding is a constraining factor. The organisation is currently funded by a mix of foundations and foreign embassies, as well as Christian and Jewish communities seeking to promote interfaith interaction and co-existence.

The current level of support allows for 500 children from five different schools to participate.

“What I tell funders is that for every pupil who graduates from the programme, effectively learning compassion and understanding, the potential recourse to violence is reduced,” says Lichman.

While a wider trend within the Palestinian population indicates wariness of “coexistence” initiatives, as these are seen as benefiting the Israeli occupation, Lichman declares that “our Palestinian partners do not subscribe to this view. They are rather of the persuasion that understanding and communication can only benefit both sides.”

Lichman goes on to explain that pride in family folklore, and especially food traditions, is basic to understanding culture in the Middle East. “This is where we start, where we find common ground. But religion and family history are also important, and these are focused on in the later stage of the programme.”

Following the first two stages of games and food, in the third stage the mixed groups of children visit a synagogue and a mosque. A rabbi explains Judaism, while an Imam takes listeners through the tenets of Islam.

Even if the pupils are not able to remember every detail of the lessons covering religion, they do come away changed by the experience, affirms Lichman. He also stresses that one important aspect of his programme is that it takes an approach that can get the whole community talking.

Dorian Levin, a Jewish woman from Jerusalem, is also a programme alumnus who has become a member of the CCECH staff. She says the results have been meaningful.

“At the same time, it is also very hard. The realities are difficult, and whole communities have been told for decades not to trust the other. If we want to forge deeper relationships, this will take more time.”