This is a bit of a personal thing for me, as Jenin was the first city outside of Ramallah/Jerusalem that I visited in Palestine. It was eye-opening; more like, eye-popping, eye-shattering even. It's the bullet holes, the endless martyrs, the palpable sadness that fills the place. I went into a store to buy a juice, and an old woman told me about her son who had died when I inquired after the picture hanging on the wall. I could have had that experience in every single store, if I so chose to. Omnipresent tragedy.
That visit also had a real moment of grace to it, which was thanks to the Children's Theatre. I had gone with my colleague B. to Jenin with the intention of both of us seeing the play being put on, a reinvention of Alice in Wonderland. As B. and I were wandering around the camp prior to the play, we somehow, in typical Arab fashion which puts any other hospitality I've ever encountered to shame, made friends with a lady and were invited to coffee in her house. Two little ones trailed along and wrapped themselves around our host's chair, shyly staring. B. and I chatted with them in our mangled Arabic as we all drank coffee. Next thing I know, we're inviting the little ones (9-ish year old girl and 5ish year old boy) to the play with us. Of course, they come. No matter we've known them for five minutes. No matter we're two random foreigners. It takes a village people...and sometimes, a globe. So, off the four of us trot with a promise to Mom to bring them home after. B. and I are just loving this. Truly. These kids are adorable, and they've never been to the theatre, even though it's just down the street. So the four of us go the play. I think the best part for me was when something happened in the play when a very important ring rolled to the front of the stage, and the two little ones automatically stood up and leaned over, totally enthralled. My heart burst. There's nothing better than watching a kid just live their imagination. B. and I shared a smug smile of contentment. After the play, the kids told us they liked it and politely disappeared back home. B. and I rode home on the bus in happy silence.
This theatre, this show, this little moment of grace and a thousand more like them, was all thanks to Juliano, an incredible individual dedicated to the future of Palestine - its kids. Born from a Jewish Israeli mother and a Palestinian Christian father, he called himself 100% Jewish and 100% Palestinian. His mom founded the Freedom Theatre in Jenin; her work is profiled in a very powerful documentary that's not super long and can be viewed in its entirety online (it's in one of those youtube series wherein you need to watch parts 1-9; if you find a better link, please comment it). I really, really suggest you watch it, lovely reader; it's one of the best I've seen in terms of stuff on Israel/Palestine, and if nothing else, watch it to inform yourself about the work this man, this father with another baby on the way, was tragically killed for. Keep his work alive by educating yourself.
There's also just a heinous amount of airstrikes going on in Gaza, which the US press seems to not even realize. And raids in Palestinian villages, and cities. And settler violence. And a million pathological acts of injustice, dehumanization, and terror. If you are interested in keeping up with all this, as do not ever think you're getting comprehensive news from NYTimes or CNN for Fox or any US media outlet, I suggest you check out this website, this website and this website.
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