Challenged are the Peacemakers

The lunar eclipse on Saturday 10th December was captivating. At first it was not visible because of the general murk in the sky low on the horizon as it rose – the Middle East has, under some weather conditions, quite a pall of pollution and dust hanging over it. But the moon emerged from the murk, becoming more visible as the dusk darkened.

Ibrahim has gone away to Germany, accompanying some trainers from the Hope Flowers Centre to attend a trauma-therapy course in Berlin. The school and centre have for a long time practiced trauma counselling, but now they are extending into trauma therapy. Ibrahim came to pick me up for a chat before he went. The car was full, with Maram, his wife, Muna, their domestic helper and their three lovely girls.

When I opened the door, the girls lit up. “We miss you”, said Zena, the eldest, nine years old. My heart wobbled. I miss them too – and the noise, bustle and chaos of a family of five. Until several days ago they had been living with me at the apartment at the school while their new house in Beit Jala was being readied. But now they have moved, and it is very quiet at the apartment.

I gave them each a squeeze and we chatted as we wove through the streets of Al Khader to reach the Barbra restaurant in Beit Jala, where Ibrahim and I got out. We found a table and sat there, silent, wondering where to start. Ibrahim didn’t want to start, but he knew we had to talk. So I started off, trying to restrain myself from blurting out the full list of things I needed to discuss with him.

Looking up at Hope Flowers School from down in the valley.
I live on the top floor on the right.

Ibrahim is deeply tired and worn out. This year has been a nightmare for him. It started in February with several months of allegations made, largely from abroad, against him, his family and the school. By June we managed to figure out what was going on: it was a coordinated attack to discredit Hope Flowers and peel off its international funders and supporters – someone was trying to ruin the school and close it.

Working behind a front organisation, this was an attempt to gain our land at Al Khader, to destroy the protection the school and its international supporters offer to the surrounding houses and small farms. The hill is strategic, and the developer of the neighbouring Israeli settlement, Efrat, over the other side of the security wall, wants to expand it our way. Allegations were made which sorely hurt Ibrahim and downed his spirits – he was already tired after ten years of unbroken service to the school. His integrity and motivation were called into question, and this upset him – his honour and his life’s work were at stake.

Looking over the valley from the school.
Behind the separation wall (incomplete), a settlement outpost is on the left
and the settlement of Efrat is behind-right. They want to come our way.

We also fended off an attempt in June 2011 to detain Ibrahim in prison. We believe this was a further drive by these people to get at the school. It wore him out some more. He was accused of collaboration with the Israelis – not a difficult accusation to make because peacemakers like Ibrahim reach out to people on the other side as a longterm peace-building strategy. It was Palestinian security men who suspected him, a few of whom are themselves secret collaborators – there are money and advantages in it – and they were probably doing some dirty work for the Israelis, wanting to frame Ibrahim, make themselves look patriotic and achieve something for their secret masters. But he managed to get through it all, and some good and fair people in the Palestinian security establishment saw sense. Eventually he was given a ‘certificate of good behaviour’ after many interrogations, and justice won through.

Then came serious financial difficulties. The school has over recent months been sailing close to the wind. The situation has arisen from complications arising from recent events and awkward questions from some of our foreign funders. From their viewpoint  they have needed to ask searching questions, but this has eaten away at Ibrahim’s heart and self-respect since some of the mud thrown at him has managed to stick – as it does when sufficient mud is thrown. The funders over in the West rely on secondhand and confusing information and are unable fully to judge what really is happening here in Palestine, and its context. We and they live genuinely in different worlds, and there’s a perceptual gap.

Here's the wider panorama from my apartment. School playground below, then Palestinian houses and farms,
then security wall, and Efrat settlement behind. This scene is going to fill up with houses.
The big question is whether they will succeed in taking the land on our side of the wall.

So Ibrahim is by now quite profoundly burned out. At times I have seen him drowsily staring at the wall, struggling to muster his thoughts or falling asleep where he’s sitting. He’s vulnerable. He needs a year’s sabbatical, a profound rest-and-recharge. But there is no one to replace him and there are no funds available to hire the right kind of manager to take over many of his duties. He’s feeling stuck with his responsibilities.

Crises are surmountable if there is energy and drive to overcome them. But the batteries are flat and the situation continues to be complex. This is why I am here, acting as a counsellor and adviser, shouldering some of the weight. I have had to wait patiently, trying not to drum my fingers: Ibrahim has been very busy, unready to brainstorm longterm strategy planning. So I am beavering away with those things I can do without his involvement, on the offchance that I’m getting things right.

I am glad he is going away. The break might do him good, giving him a chance to think, get some inspiration and meet new people. When he goes abroad he is often reminded how significant the work of Hope Flowers is – people are amazed at what the school and centre are doing. Here in Palestine, amidst all this ongoing sandstorm of events, it’s difficult to remember this.

In the West there are many wonderful theories about bringing peace to conflict zones, and there is good understanding of the psycho-social issues involved, but here at Hope Flowers we are carrying out this stuff in a hands-on way, in the thick of it, applying and honing it at the coalface. By dint of the ongoing conflict here in Palestine, Hope Flowers has accumulated experience and knowhow for a longer time than most comparable organisations.

But that doesn’t solve our crisis. On the educational front, our reason for being, things are going well. Numbers of children and teachers are reduced because of financial cutbacks, yet the school is going well, and the adult education centre down in Deheisheh is thriving. The crisis lies with funding, organisation and leadership, and with the proliferating requirements of overseas funders.

Hope Flowers is being reorganised but it takes time – far more time than funders and we would like. We are, after all, operating in an occupied country, and life here is beset with complications other countries do not experience with such intensity. There’s an example coming below.

In the end, the chief complication is the state of mind of Palestinians themselves. They’re all quite fundamentally worn out, as a nation. I see many broken men who have lost their hope and self-esteem. Meanwhile, women bravely struggle on, with child in one hand and mobile phone in the other. They’re encouraged by the historic tide of change in the Middle East which increasingly favours women and gives them new opportunities, but life is not at all easy for them.

In this country everyone busily deals with the next crisis and the crisis after that, while lacking hope or a clear idea of where things are going. The possibility of peace and resolution – always elusive – has evaporated. They feel let down by the international community, which has failed yet again to do right by them, and at times a feeling of hopelessness rumbles under the surface, clouding the atmosphere and testing everyone’s forbearance.

Ibrahim’s state is simply an acute, personal expression of a general situation. But he is a resilient man: he was an engaged teenager during the first intifada and in the second intifada he and his family admirably steered the school through very difficult times – even at one stage with a gun-battle going on around the school while the kids were there (they were given a twenty minute ceasefire to evacuate). He has remarkable patience and perseverance.

At the restaurant, he perked up slightly as I made him aware I was thinking about things on his behalf – as much as I am able. But he had no responses. I decided there and then to take a different strategy from now on: instead of waiting to have brainstorming sessions and discussions with him, I’ll get on with a strategic plan anyway, doing what I can, identifying the gaps and then presenting it to Ibrahim or the school board for taking on from there. Pulling out of a crisis requires a sense of direction, a goal to head for. Having identified it, it’s possible then to count back and identify the stages needed to get there.

The botttom of the valley in the winter sun.
The separation wall is visible on the top-left.

We parted company and Ibrahim has now gone off to Berlin for ten days. Meanwhile, following the eclipse, the weather here has been beautiful, with crisp, golden, sunny days and a profound stillness. Last night the bells of the monastery down the valley in Irtas could clearly be heard wafting over the hillsides like auditory balm. I went for a walk in the sun down in the valley, and all around me were twittering birds flitting from tree to tree amongst the fruit orchards. Yet there was a deep sound of silence too. Cats were sitting in the sun preening. In that moment, all was well and life was at peace.

Looking east toward Irtas at sunset - monastery down-right.

But at night it gets cold. The apartment on the top floor of the school is large and spacious, with concrete walls and marble floors, and it gets cold after sundown. It is difficult to heat because of its size, and buildings here are made for withstanding the summer heat, not the winter chill. So I sit here wrapped in a big blanket, with double sweaters on, even at the computer. I’m used to cold countries, but I wonder how well I shall manage here in January and February. I’d like more friendship too.

We live in times of great and accelerating change, and the difficulties the world faces seem to be going critical. Palestine could do relatively well in coming times, thanks to its collective experience in dealing with challenging circumstances – this is a perverse, painful benefit the Israelis have brought them. Fundamental to this is attitude. The big word is sumud – steadfastness, resilience and hanging in there. It’s an attitude of survival, of solidarity under duress. In other words, if all you have to eat is bread, then enjoy your bread and don’t worry about things you don’t have.

It could be that Palestinians will teach the world about survival one day. They might even land up rescuing Israelis. After all, in times of lack and global economic woes, truckloads of food aid and equipment might no longer be likely – what will be important and doable will be the sharing of survival knowledge and experience, the human stuff. In this, Palestinians are strong. It starts with attitude.

It might be that the crisis at Hope Flowers is a God-given gift. Perhaps we’re being prepared for something without knowing it. When you’re down, there are only two directions to go: out or up. One of Ibrahim’s problems is that he cannot head out – resign or close Hope Flowers. If he did so, it would mean not only the failure of a 27-year old organisation founded by his father, but he would also be seen by Palestinians to have betrayed the cause – the Israelis would probably get the land the school is on.

This was what lay behind the allegations and security problems earlier this year. So the only direction available is up. But the challenges are continuing. On my way to town with Ismael today, he told me that he had heard on the news last night that the Israelis were going to build houses just over the wall from the school, as part of the expansion of the settlement of Efrat. It’s part of their master-plan to surround Bethlehem with settlements, even eventually to stop Palestinians using Route 60 from Bethlehem to Hebron, thus separating connections between the two cities. The details are in today’s Ha’aretz (the Israeli equivalent of the Guardian in UK).

What wonderful news. We have another challenge before us. These people are relentless. Perhaps it’s good Ibrahim is away. Perhaps I have some work to do. I’m going to give it a day or two to think this through and do some research. Please say a few prayers. And, please, someone, tell me to stop working and go to bed.