Yala?

Yakoub always answers his phone. He brings cookies and coffee to class, and sometimes his daughter Nicole. He has one of those open mouth smiles, where his teeth are separated and there is so much upward energy in his countenance that one must resist the impulse to stand in response. His whole face is involved in conveying his enthusiasm for this or that Arabic letter. 

The effect is particularly congenial when he cocks his head and asks "yala?" Before moving on to the next letter. His face pauses in that energetic smile, and his eyes widen with charisma. How many times has this man taught foreigners how to write the wassat form of alef? Logic tells us that the number is in the hundreds. Our facial-expression-reading faculties tell us otherwise. He seems as thrilled about alef and ba as we are intimidated by them. 

Le café et les biscuits sont compris dans le prix du cours.

Rules!

Don't litter.
Don't walk in the street.
Bring your book to class.
No food allowed.
Don't be late to class.

For American school children, rules form a huge part of the school experience. Consequences are generally enforced, and students start complying or paying the price.

Rules have another quality here. They do not govern the small behaviors of the day, they govern the larger framework of society.

Don't go to Jerusalem.
Don't travel on this road.
No books ordered from outside sources.
Pay Israeli tax on everything you buy.

So many big rules exist that small rules like "don't throw your candy wrapper on the ground" seem silly. Why not seize any big of freedom available, by scaling a wall, staying at recess past the bell, or deciding whether or not to do homework. American students make the same decisions, but in a context of much greater relative freedoms.

The rules that describe how the reconstruction of Gaza will be carried out (under Israeli and Palestinian Unity supervision) give a sense of the different degree of freedom to choose that Palestinians face. This is from the following article in The Middle East Eye

The report lists the known components of the agreement as follows.

Firstly, the security arrangements will closely resemble the ones agreed (but never implemented) after the November 2012 operation “Pillar of Cloud”, with the notable addition of the expansion of the fishing zone to six nautical miles.

Secondly, construction materials will be pre-ordered through Israel, where Israeli teams of engineers will have to approve exact quantities of materials for each specific project. The materials will be ferried in to Israeli-authorised international organizations, who will store them in special facilities under 24-hour CCTV supervision, with footage accessible to Israel.

The reconstruction sites will then be monitored by Israeli drones, to make sure no materials are used for any other purpose and that each bit of materiel is accounted for.

Private homes will be rebuilt by private but also Israeli-vetted Gaza contractors, who will manage the construction materials through special software accessible also to Israel, and whose works will also be monitored by drones.

I will look at these rules with my tenth graders this week, who are in a unit on Rules and Authority. 

Right to Movement

The Palestinian Marathon is still young - the first one was in 2013. It takes place in Bethlehem in March. If you live in Jerusalem, Bethlehem or Ramallah, you can train during weekly runs with the group "Right to Movement", whose organizers started the marathon.

6:30 am: 2.5 shekel coffee in the street

Yesterday I went on Right to Movement's first organized hike by the Dead Sea. It was a little more popular than I (or they) expected -- we were 131 sur le chemin!

10:30 am: Resting in a cave, one of two shady spots all hike. That's George, the primary organizer, behind me.

Our three Bedouin guides, Mohammad, Mohammad and Mohammad, led us over 16km of desert toward the Dead Sea. The irony of the day was that our buses couldn't get past the checkpoint to come pick us up at the end, so we were offered the "right to move" an extra 8 km by foot to reach the checkpoint where the buses were held up. Luckily, during that last stretch, a majestic light show played out over the panoramic view of the Dead Sea while the moon rose and the sun dipped.

1:30 pm: Reached the Dead Sea overlook

My take away from the day is what a strong pull it is for many young Palestinians to live near their families. Many of the people on the hike had been born of brought up in the US and had recently made the decision to move back to Palestine to join their extended families (some even leaving their immediate families in the States). Several mentioned that even though life is "harder" more limited here, the sense of comfort that comes from having family nearby makes up for any inconvenience, and then some.

4:30 pm Looking for the Promised Bus of Milk and Honey. Good thing we didn't know it was still 12km away!

The magnificent Dead Sea at dusk that distracted us from complaining legs while we walked to the checkpoint.

L'Eid à la francais

Midi, l'heure magique en France où tout s'arrête pour le pause de déjeuner. Ca n'existe pas en Palestine. Donc c'était quelque chose de très nostalgic samedi quand Elodie, une française qui travaille ici à Ramallah et qui j'ai rencontrée au café francophone du centre franco-aleman, m'a invitée de manger chez elle pour la fête de l'Eid.

Elle m'a proposé de venir ver midi, et on a suivi le dessin typique d'un repas français. Tout d'abord, on était dehors car il faisait beau et Elodie a une terrace petite mais très agréable. On était trois, et on a pris l'apéro avant de commencer a cuisiner. Après, la salade a suivi, et puis on a mangé le plat, et on est sorti pour chercher de la glace pour le dessert. Tout ca m'a fait beaucoup plaisir, surtout car je pensais à tout les repas sympas dont j'ai profité en France l'année dernier.