min al-awwal
I've been getting a lot of requests for some material on this thing, so here I go, I'll start from the beginning (min al-awwal).
After a long and harrowing trip through Frankfurt to Ben Gurion airport, I surprisingly made it through security with no problems at all. My customs official, a sour-looking girl with dark eyes, must have been at the end of a long shift, for after a series of questions (the answers to which she didn't seem too concerned with), she stamped my page and let me through. The drive to Bethlehem from Tel-Aviv is surprisingly short - less than an hour with some traffic, and by 3:30 pm (9:30 am my time, exactly 24 hours after awaking on Sunday morning) we arrived in SOS Children's Village, Bethlehem, Palestine.
SOS Children's Village is part of an international organization that was established in 1949 in response to the growing global need for support and education for orphaned or otherwise parent-less children. The first Children's Villages were established in Europe in the aftermath of World War II, but the organization quickly expanded and is today active in 132 countries. The Village in Bethlehem opened in 1966, and was soon followed by a small grade school which serves both children in the Village as well as from the larger Bethlehem area.
The Village is organized, literally, like a small village. There are roughly 120 children living here, split up amongst 13 houses, all in close proximity to one another, like a little gated community. Each house is supervised by a volunter mother, most of whom have degrees in psychology or social work. Children live in these houses until they are 14 years old, at which point they move to a youth house (two boys' houses and one girls') where they have another "parent" who specializes in adolescent psychology. In addition, there are 4 or 5 volunteers who coordinate after school activities for the children, as well as an office of administrators who oversee the Village's activities, curricula and funding.
So far I've been most stricken by the closeness of this community, and their willingness to welcome me almost as a new family-member. Of course I speak Arabic like a 6-year old and the girls all think I dress like a slob (which I sort of do, I guess), but still, everyone, from the youngest child to the most experienced mother, treats me as an equal, helps me with my language, and expects me to pull my own weight. Once I begin my work full-time, as the only native-English speaker here, I'll be working with children to improve their English talking and pronunciation skills.
Only two hours after I arrived, I was invited to participate in a Village-wide iftaar, the evening meal shared every day of Ramadan after a day of fasting. Most of the children here are Muslim, and they all take their places at the dinner table 15 or 20 minutes early, licking their lips at the sight of the massive plates of food sitting in front of them. I always think it's funny that kids seem to have the same sense of humor everywhere - a funny face is a funny face is a funny face and a celebration yields the same excitement in every culture.
Usually, the children attend school for full days, 9-2 or 3ish, just as we do in the United States. However, since the EU and US decided to cut funding to the newly-elected Hamas government earlier this year, teachers in government schools have not been paid enough and as a result, public school children only attend school for half-days, if at all. This is a problem in particular for the middle and older children (12+ years), many of whom are hoping to attend private high schools or universities in the next few years. As with any form of government sanctions, the ones who suffer the most are those who have little or no power, and who need the most help.
This afternoon I visited every house, met the mothers and children, and tried desperately to remember at least one child's name from each house. With so many kids, so many smiling faces, and so many names that I can't even pronounce (the more determined kids make me repeat their name 10 or 20 times to make sure that am saying it correctly), I'm afraid I'll never be able to remember everyone. For now, a lot of them can't remember my name, so they call me Al-Ajnabiyya, foreigner. Other variations include: Katie, Cat, Cat-E, or, my personal favorite (which dignity dictated I nip in the bud immediately) Cat-Cot (Kitten or Kitty Cat). I guess until I learn their names, I can't fault them.
After a long and harrowing trip through Frankfurt to Ben Gurion airport, I surprisingly made it through security with no problems at all. My customs official, a sour-looking girl with dark eyes, must have been at the end of a long shift, for after a series of questions (the answers to which she didn't seem too concerned with), she stamped my page and let me through. The drive to Bethlehem from Tel-Aviv is surprisingly short - less than an hour with some traffic, and by 3:30 pm (9:30 am my time, exactly 24 hours after awaking on Sunday morning) we arrived in SOS Children's Village, Bethlehem, Palestine.
SOS Children's Village is part of an international organization that was established in 1949 in response to the growing global need for support and education for orphaned or otherwise parent-less children. The first Children's Villages were established in Europe in the aftermath of World War II, but the organization quickly expanded and is today active in 132 countries. The Village in Bethlehem opened in 1966, and was soon followed by a small grade school which serves both children in the Village as well as from the larger Bethlehem area.
The Village is organized, literally, like a small village. There are roughly 120 children living here, split up amongst 13 houses, all in close proximity to one another, like a little gated community. Each house is supervised by a volunter mother, most of whom have degrees in psychology or social work. Children live in these houses until they are 14 years old, at which point they move to a youth house (two boys' houses and one girls') where they have another "parent" who specializes in adolescent psychology. In addition, there are 4 or 5 volunteers who coordinate after school activities for the children, as well as an office of administrators who oversee the Village's activities, curricula and funding.
So far I've been most stricken by the closeness of this community, and their willingness to welcome me almost as a new family-member. Of course I speak Arabic like a 6-year old and the girls all think I dress like a slob (which I sort of do, I guess), but still, everyone, from the youngest child to the most experienced mother, treats me as an equal, helps me with my language, and expects me to pull my own weight. Once I begin my work full-time, as the only native-English speaker here, I'll be working with children to improve their English talking and pronunciation skills.
Only two hours after I arrived, I was invited to participate in a Village-wide iftaar, the evening meal shared every day of Ramadan after a day of fasting. Most of the children here are Muslim, and they all take their places at the dinner table 15 or 20 minutes early, licking their lips at the sight of the massive plates of food sitting in front of them. I always think it's funny that kids seem to have the same sense of humor everywhere - a funny face is a funny face is a funny face and a celebration yields the same excitement in every culture.
Usually, the children attend school for full days, 9-2 or 3ish, just as we do in the United States. However, since the EU and US decided to cut funding to the newly-elected Hamas government earlier this year, teachers in government schools have not been paid enough and as a result, public school children only attend school for half-days, if at all. This is a problem in particular for the middle and older children (12+ years), many of whom are hoping to attend private high schools or universities in the next few years. As with any form of government sanctions, the ones who suffer the most are those who have little or no power, and who need the most help.
This afternoon I visited every house, met the mothers and children, and tried desperately to remember at least one child's name from each house. With so many kids, so many smiling faces, and so many names that I can't even pronounce (the more determined kids make me repeat their name 10 or 20 times to make sure that am saying it correctly), I'm afraid I'll never be able to remember everyone. For now, a lot of them can't remember my name, so they call me Al-Ajnabiyya, foreigner. Other variations include: Katie, Cat, Cat-E, or, my personal favorite (which dignity dictated I nip in the bud immediately) Cat-Cot (Kitten or Kitty Cat). I guess until I learn their names, I can't fault them.
posted by kate at 1:54 PM
2 Comments:
"Cat-Cot" I love this name. :)
Hi Kate! Just letting you know i'm reading, so... keep on writing stuff. That's all I do these days anyways, read, read, and read some more. Hope you are well!
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