Our volunteers had the opportunity to talk with Kristina Scholz again in a second webinar with her last week. This webinar focused on how to accomplish your goals as a teacher while accepting that you will be dealing with external forces that may or may not impede your work to achieve your goals. These external forces include school administration, other teachers, parents, NGOs and community leaders.
Scholz emphasized that especially for our volunteers who will be in their positions for 6 weeks, there are limited amounts of time, resources and training associated with their teaching positions. As such, it is key to “think modestly, deliver respectfully and leave gracefully”. Scholz pointed out that your expectations, of yourself, others, the facilities and resources you have access to and the culture of the place you’re in, can all act as constraints if you let them.
She also advised the volunteers to be aware that in some instances they might encounter what she coined as the “volunteer as a novelty” concept, in which volunteers are shown off around the community rather than being able to pursue the volunteer work they came to do.
Scholz gave our volunteers a few questions to think about when planning their lessons while in country. What are the institutions strengths and weaknesses? Where are you within the institution?
She emphasized that some of the most helpful ways to achieve your goals are to engage with the community and its people. Once you make the effort to connect with people on a personal level it will be much easier to have good professional relationships with them.
By now, my family and friends are old hands at sending me off to various locations around the Middle East. Where my first trips to Fes and Cairo generated a flurry of concerned e-mails, phone calls and lengthy discussions—I quickly developed a point-by-point strategy for addressing concerns ranging from kidnappings to proposals—my announcement of my recent spring break trip was instead greeted with responses of resigned acceptance (“Again?” my grandfather replied) or muted enthusiasm (“Cairo! Jealous. More of your research stuff?” texted back my high school best friend).
Upon our return, after waking up at an unseemly hour due to jetlag, I called my mother—thankfully an early riser—to check in. She has for years indulged my long rambles about the places I’ve just returned from, but this time around, it was different. When I began to describe the environment of Garbage City and the way in which many of the residents there make their living through the collection of trash, she pushed for more details about the system of collection and the production of sustainable crafts at the Association for the Protection of the Environment, one of the NGOs in the neighborhood we had visited. And when I began to discuss the difficult work of taking care of, playing with and feeding the young children at the orphanage, especially infants, she laughed and we debated at length the best techniques for getting stubborn kids to finish meals. She’s always been interested (or skillfully feigns interest) in what I have to say about where I’ve been and the people I’ve met, but by transmitting my experience through the weight of the social issues we’d witnessed and certain shared elements of human interaction—particularly working with kids, an issue that resonates with her as a parent and a children’s librarian—she was, I believe, able to experience my retelling not just as rehashed narration of where I’d been and what I’d seen, but able to undergo and more vividly imagine, in a small way, the trip for herself.
That’s what makes trips and service such as ours so compelling and so important for more people to take on. Traveling to places such as Cairo not only “normalizes” the individuals who live there—just as you may normalize or diversify the notion of what an American looks like to your new friends—but also normalizes the challenges the communities there face. As I’ve mentioned many times before, media representations of the region convey circumstances of violent social upheaval, dangerous and militant milieus and seemingly intractable systems of social oppression. And yet, when you see that there also exists the need for volunteers to feed children and hang up laundry, or you tour classrooms and are greeted by choruses of “Hello! How are you? What’s your name?” or get a chance to chat with some local peers, you see that the challenges and issues they face are, in many respects, much the same. There exists a need for greater support systems for children and education in all places around the world; there are teenagers trying to navigate the social environment in every city you go to; there are difficulties regarding the environment and sustainable infrastructure in all countries. By visiting and serving in places such as Cairo, even if only for a short time, you are not only able to diminish the distance between yourself and the people who live there, but experience, if only briefly, their challenges—after which you will inevitably conclude that, in many ways, they’re not so different from ours. And even now, more than a week since my return and the inevitable fading of sensory memories accelerates, small daily activities such as the Facebook updates from our AUC friends, the e-mails I’ve sent to Gihan, a women’s rights activist who talked with us, or the arrangement of volunteer opportunities at an Association of the Protection of the Environment crafts sale here in New York City in May through a HANDS board member help sustain the experience, making that short week a now inseparable part of all of our lives.
In our meetings with college students, I recall hearing my Egyptian peers ask, more than once, if Americans think Egyptians ride camels to school. They usually proceeded to tell me that they had never ridden a camel or even visited the pyramids.
They were equally shocked when I told them how much I hate going to Times Square and that I’ve never been inside the Empire State Building even though I live in New York City.
Even though we sat down to talk about politics, democracy, and revolution, we spent more time talking about cultural implications of soccer and whether American high schools really have jocks and cheerleaders.
I guess it’s necessary to acknowledge that we go to a very diverse and very liberal University in a very diverse and very liberal city. Being in Cairo has made me see American perceptions of the Middle East in a completely different light—in ways I never saw back home. It is so ironic to realize that cultural stereotypes are embedded in popular culture and media everywhere.
Whether it’s through Disney movies or television news, Americans are conditioned to look at the Middle East in a certain way. I know my first “exposure” to Middle Eastern culture was the movie Aladdin. It’s one of my favorite movies from my childhood, but it also imposes so many stereotypes about Arabs: that they ride camels, have genies in lamps, live in palaces, or have pet monkeys. When I visited Saudi Arabia and had to wear a hijab, someone commented on the photo, saying, “you look like Princess Jasmine.” I don’t actually look like princess Jasmine… I just looked “middle eastern” because I was wearing a headscarf.
I never realized that people might see Americans through this type of skewed perspective. I attended an arts high school that had no sports teams or high school “cliques.” We didn’t have a prom queen, and that shocked my peers in Egypt.
I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to be an unofficial ambassador. I’m realizing that it’s not just about what I’m doing here and now on the ground in Cairo. I feel like it’s up to us to not only break down stereotypes about Americans while here, but to go home and let people know that the Middle East is not what we see on the news and in movies. Yes there are terrorists. But there are terrorists in other places too. Many years ago, Egyptians may have ridden camels to school in rural places. But today, camel riding is mainly a tourist attraction.
It’s also about realizing how similar we are, and that these similarities, despite many differences, warrant respect and friendship. I talked with one student who wanted to study literature but knew he’d be more likely to find a job as an engineer. I face the same dilemma as a humanities major at Columbia. I appreciate my liberal education even more because I know it’s a privilege.
By our third outing with college students, all the initial awkwardness was gone. That’s because we took the time to break away the stereotypes and really got to know one another. As peace-builders, this is indispensable. On both sides of the table, we have to ask the obvious questions and get cultural stereotypes and filters out of the way. That’s how acquaintances become friends and how fellow nations become allies.
You could say my journey to Jordan started when I was seven years old, as a Girl Scout Brownie. Each troop in the district represented a different nation at the Southern California international fair, and my troop chose Jordan. After that fair, I knew I wanted to visit Jordan someday.
Andi representing Jordan at age 7
Flash-forward fourteen years to a small Middle Eastern café in Kansas City, Missouri, where I’m a college student. Fruity Egyptian hookah smoke curled in the air and soft Arabic music played overhead. I thought this café would be the perfect place to tell my friend I was planning a trip to Amman.
You could almost hear the record scratch as she did a double-take.
“But… why?” she said.
It was a question I’ve been getting over and over as I’ve planned my trip over the last six months. People hear “Middle East” or “Muslim world” and think “war,” “terrorism,” and “danger.” It’s easy to think that if you only see war coverage on television.
I’m going because I believe peace starts with us – with me. Not only because I’ll serve as an unofficial ambassador while in Jordan; but also because of the knowledge and compassion I will bring home.
Only once cultural fear is abolished, can we begin to celebrate our diverse traditions as a global community.
It would be a lie to say that I’m not anxious at all – after all, it’s a new culture that I’ve never experienced before. I know the local customs will take getting used to. But even more than that, I’m excited. I can’t wait to meet my Jordanian host family and learn about communal eating with them (I’ve always liked eating with my hands, anyway!). I’m looking forward to becoming part of a workplace community at Friends of the Global Fund (a public health nonprofit) and making a real difference. I’m excited to visit the local hang-outs and make new friends.
I’m sure some days will be hard – some days I’ll be homesick for my mom, my siblings, my boyfriend and my classmates. But I’m sure that even more than that, I’ll be homesick for Jordan when I come back.
About Andi:
Andi Enns is a student in the Degree with Honors Program at Park University, studying journalism and public relations. She will be on a service trip to Amman, Jordan for three weeks over winter break, working with a public health organization and staying with a local family.
The ride from Bethlehem to Nablus is a glorious and character building adventure not at all recommended for the faint of heart. The road hugs the sides of looming hills peppered with olive trees and asymmetric limestone boulders. We Passed Bedouin tent farms, Israeli settlement checkpoints, and struggling lorries that rode close enough to other vehicles for the drivers to shake hands. There could not have been a sweeter welcome than my feet hitting the ground in Nablus.
A jovial local volunteer from Project Hope came to retrieve me from the center of the city and take me to the place that I would be calling home for the next few months. He is known by his friends and coworkers as Nizar the Wizard because of his ability to make something out of nothing. He looked at my backpack that could easily double as a small body-bag and through a smile and a heavy exhale, and quite appropriately said, “It’s all uphill from here friend.”
We stepped lively down the narrow streets and through arched corridors, sidestepping crates of vegetables and astute street felines. The pungent smell of freshly ground cardamom, cumin, clove, and cinnamon hung densely in the Old City air. Shop owners selling everything from sweets to live sheep waved and offered a “Welcome of Nablus” in between assisting customers. Inquisitive youngsters with the most captivating eyes tagged along. By the time we neared the edge of the Old City, I had quite an entourage. “What should we do now?” I asked the shortest of my crew. With a tilted head, she looked at my sandals and lifted her eyebrows. “Let’s play!”
It is clear to see that the children here in Nablus, like children everywhere, want to be free to realize their full potential. However, in the meantime, they want to enjoy life. They want to laugh and have fun.
Last night, at a festival wrapping up the end of the Eid al Fitr holiday marking the end of the holy month of Ramadan, I had the pleasure of meeting Dr. Patch Adams.
The exceptional physician, social activist, and street clown, whose unconventional approach to healing through laughter leading him to be celebrated throughout the world, was in Nablus volunteering alongside a group of circus performers from Spain. His examination of the relationship between health and happiness is especially pertinent in the Occupied Palestinian Territories. Towering over the majority of us in the crowd, he hoisted brave 7-year-olds up onto his shoulders while others looked on or investigated his long grey ponytail with unfeigned curiosity. The children adored him and their parents beamed as they stood close by watching.
No matter where we call home, we all share a need to feel loved, cared for, important. We all want to experience happiness and we have a responsibility to each other to work toward a better today within this framework. Volunteering abroad allows us to live out this dream in real time.
My first impression of Nablus, inshallah, will stay with me forever. I was moved by an absolute peacefulness that abounds amongst the city’s residents despite the unbelievably exhausting reality of living in the West Bank. I love that the majority of the people here celebrate one another’s holidays. Whether they are Muslim, Christian, or Samaritan, there is a respect that is not seen very often anywhere else in religiously pluralistic societies. There is a definite support that says, “I know this is an important time which holds a lot of meaning for you my brother or sister and I am with you, in solidarity to celebrate something sacred.”
I will share with you a quote from the film based on Dr. Patch Adams which he reiterated during our brief encounter: “I’m interested in connecting with other human beings and learning about them. We all need more of that.”
Guediawaye water basin. This area floods when it rains and poses huge health/safety hazards.
In addition to education on human rights, health and hygiene, literacy, math, and project management, part of the CEP is the formation of local organizations called CMCs. CMCs are made up of local leaders and are responsible for carrying out projects to better the community even after the completion of the Tostan program. Some examples of CMC projects include constructing a well, fundraising for a millet grinder, selling millet, creating an irrigation system for a community garden, making and selling soap, etc. CMCs focus much of their effort on “income-generating activities” (IGAs), but they are also responsible for maintaining the health and safety of their community. Each CMC is made up of several commissions (health, child protection, education, the environment, etc.) which raise money and lobby for new projects. For example, the Health Commission may lobby for a newposte de santéor small health clinic. The Education Commission may raise money and purchase school supplies. Guediaweye’s Environment Commission is lobbying for a new fence around the water basin to keep children and animals from falling into the water.
Micro-garden and sewing machines used by CMC members for income-generating activities.
At the social mobilization event, Guediawaye’s CMC, which is made up primarily of women (way cool!), showcased its recent projects, which include cereal preservation, soap making, and fabric dying among other income-generating activities. But before attending the main event, Elaine, Lucy (Tostan volunteers), and I interviewed the CMC Coordinator, Nogoye, and another key member, Marième, for the article Eliane was writing for Tostan’s blog. Marième is blind, and her success has made her a local celebrity. She attended all of Tostan’s CEP sessions and participated in every activity except those concerning literacy. She and other CMC members in Guediawaye are urging Tostan to translate materials into Braille so that people who are visually impaired can fully participate.
From left to right: CMC member, Marième, Nogoye, and Oumou, a CEP facilitator.
Even though Marième cannot see, she sells vegetables and braids hair for a small profit. At the end of our interview, I asked Marième how she could count money if she could not see it. I knew that she would be able to but thought she might enjoy showing off her skills. We role played me buying a handkerchief from her. Instead of giving her 100 CFA, the price she stated, I handed her 50 CFA, a smaller coin. She immediately called me out. To make things more difficult, I handed her a 2,000 CFA bill. She took less than 10 seconds to name the bill. Then she pulled out a handful of change from her purse and counted it out rapid fire. The seven or so women in the room cheered her on. The exercise was a lot of fun and made every one laugh.
Beaded sandals and bagged cereal made by CMC members.
Eliane, Lucy, and I headed to the main event after the interviews. First we looked at the table of products made by the CMC (bags of millet, soap, beaded sandals, and dyed fabric). Then we took our places in plastic chairs under the big tent. The MC introduced the event, and then Nogoye, Marième, and other community leaders gave small speeches. After the opening words, there was a small competition where the MC asked audience members (mostly girls and women who participated in the CEP) questions relating to the Tostan program. Those who responded correctly chose from a table of prizes, which included soap, hair gel, and sanitary napkins. For the quiz questions, the MC had the audience members read sentences in Wolof, answer simple math problems, and answer questions about human rights.
Audience members and a CEP participant wearing her classroom tunic.
After the competition, a handful of girls acted out a skit in which a woman, Aminata, learns that she has HIV. During the play, the girls acting giggled after their lines and audience members often laughed in the way you would when someone you know really well is acting in an informal skit. I imagine that the situation addressed in the play does not often result in such a happy ending. The stigma surrounding HIV/AIDs in rural/suburban Senegalese communities is significant largely because of misinformation and lack of education. In addition, any illness of a family member is a hush-hush topic not talked about openly. The fact that these girls acted out such a taboo issue in front of a large audience is huge and signifies a milestone in health education and reducing the stigma of HIV/AIDs in Guediawaye.
I asked Nogoye, the CMC coordinator, why all of the Tostan participants in this town were women. She told me that the men and boys were usually at work or at school. Tostan’s Community Empowerment Program gives people without access to formal education, who are usually female, the opportunity to learn and better their. One could argue that instead of providing informal education, Tostan should be working at the systemic level to make sure that women and girls do have access to formal education. I’m not sure which approach is best, but from what I’ve seen and read, working at the grassroots level is more sustainable. If decisions and social movements come from the bottom up, then systemic/policy change is more likely to be long lasting than if some outside party pushes reform from the top down. Though this process may take a long time, the results are long term benefits instead of temporary successes.
The highlight of the afternoon may have been when word got out that I could dance Uusa (pronounced “yooza”), the current popular dance in Senegal. The MC called me up to dance in front of the audience. I told him I couldn’t dance without music, so he quickly had the DJ put on some tunes. So I danced. People clapped, cheered, and laughed hysterically. There’s nothing funnier than a toubab chick trying to dance to Senegalese music. I really have no idea how to dance Uusa; I just mimic what I see other people doing. Apparently, I do alright because people always ask me, “How did you learn to dance so well?” Either I actually look like I know what I’m doing or they’re just humoring me – probably the latter. I don’t mind, however, because my dancing seems to make people very happy, which makes me happy.
After Uusa-ing off the dance floor, Eliane, Lucy, and I said good bye to our hosts and hopped back into the Tostan car for the 30 minute bumpy ride back to Dakar. The afternoon was very pleasant and a great way to take a break from the office. I would love to go back and visit the CMC women again. I’m sure they would all recognize me as the dancing toubab. There are worse things to be remembered for!
The following is a message from guest blogger Noah Schumer.
While studying abroad at the American University in Cairo (AUC) in the fall of 2009, I volunteered with the university’s chapter of Student Action For Refugees (STAR), an organization run by AUC graduate students that recruits English speakers to teach language courses to local refugees once per week at the school’s Tahrir Square campus. The program is free and most semesters more people sign-up than the number of available classrooms will allow for. I hadn’t planned on volunteering with STAR prior to my arrival in Cairo, but when a fellow study abroad student told me about the program during our orientation week I was excited by the opportunity to add a service component to my experience living in Egypt.
After attending a general information meeting and brief training session, I was assigned to teach a class of twenty-five students, a diverse mix of adults from various African, Middle Eastern, and South Asian nations. My co-teacher, Ashish, was a fellow student from Tufts University who grew up in India.
The vast majority of our students were practicing Muslims, and given that our first week of classes coincided with the final days of Ramadan, STAR organized an iftar to allow teachers and students to get to know each other. One of our students, Abdul Wahid, hailed from Nuristan, a province in northeast Afghanistan. After talking to him for a few minutes, he pulled out his cell phone to show me pictures of his village and his family, all wearing traditional Nuristani tribal garb. “You see,” he said, smiling, “you are not the only one having to adapt to Cairo.” Another of our students, Ali, was a middle-aged gentleman from Baghdad with a young son. He later stayed after class several times, telling us the latest news that his family, still in Iraq, was reporting to him, and asking questions of us about life in America, where an NGO was working to relocate him. For many Americans, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan are abstract events in distant locations. Ali and Abdul Wahid’s depictions of their family’s situations humanized the conflicts for me in ways that reading about them could not.
The program supplied us with copies of “Haroun and the Sea of Stories,” a children’s book by Salman Rushdie, to distribute and read in class. Ashish and I, however, decided to open our first session with a discussion of President Obama’s speech at Cairo University in June of that year in order to facilitate a more mature conversation. Given that we were several years younger than our students — many of whom had not been in a classroom environment for a long time – we knew we needed to work to earn their respect. Several of the students spoke to President Obama’s eloquence and the powerful message of American’s having the tolerance to elect an African-American president with the middle name Hussein. “When I heard about the election, I was very proud of Americans,” one student, named Habib, told me. Others, while praising the president’s words, warned that he still faced the responsibility of translating his promises into actions. As the only American in the room, I sometimes felt the burden of, if not defending, at least presenting American viewpoints. At one moment during the discussion, Habib passionately questioned what he saw as the U.S. government inconsistency in promoting democracy in some parts of the world while supporting autocrats in others. Whether or not I agreed with my student’s opinions, I felt it was important that they knew – regardless of if I was listening to them or engaging in debate – that I was genuinely interested in and respectful of their opinions, thereby to counter the unfortunate reputation of American arrogance that exists in many places.
Ashish and I taught level five – the program’s highest level – so instead of having to focus the majority of our time on grammatical minutiae, our classes were based on reading and oral comprehension, and allowing our students time to simply practice speaking English. Reading “Haroun and the Sea of Stories,” a book heavy on metaphors and motifs, out loud in class offered a chance for the students to improve their understanding of non-literal English writing. At the end of the semester, we were charged with designing a final exam; if the students passed our exam, they graduated from the program. Ultimately, around half the class passed, rendering them eligible to apply to various AUC scholarship programs for graduates of STAR, while the other half returned to level five the following semester for more instruction.
After returning to the United States, I’ve been able to stay in touch with my former students through email and facebook. During the revolution in Egypt earlier this year, I had several email exchanges with Abdul Wahid, who updated me on the rapidly evolving political situation and offered first hand depictions of the scene in downtown Cairo. My experience reinforced my belief that a vital component to being an active and engaged American citizen in the twenty-first century is having the ability to build bridges across racial, religious, ethnic, and cultural lines. As I learned from my time in the classroom, interactions between individuals allow the dispelling of stereotypes about “the other” and the making of positive change through engagement across cultures –something that, in our increasingly interconnected world, is as important now as ever.
As a leader in international volunteering, America’s Unofficial Ambassadors is always searching for smart and innovative ways that average American’s can volunteer abroad. Enter David Clemmons, and his concept of VolunTourism. VolunTourism encourages individuals to travel in a way that allows tourists to give back the community they are visiting and gain meaninginful experiences while abroad. To really understand the idea, please check out the VolunTourist Newsletter, a fantastic source of news and information on global voluntourism initiatives, the impact of international voluntary service, and best practices in the industry. In his post, David Clemmons, founder of VolunTourism.org, praises of one of AUA’s Directory-listed programs: Habitat for Humanity’s (HFH) Global Village Program. Read on to learn about how HFH’s Jordan program has successfully combined meaningful volunteer service and community engagement with cultural tourism experiences. If building homes together with low-income families and visiting one of the Seven Wonders of the World sounds captivating to you as well, check out HFH’s profile on the AUA Directory for more information about how you can join a Global Village team and volunteer with HFH in the Muslim World.
Mosaic Scholarship winner and AUA Volunteer, Morgan, sent us her thoughts as she prepares to leave for the Palestinian Territories on Friday. She will be spending two months there on a Middle East Fellowship program. Here’s what she has to say:
Morgan relaxing beneath a tree in Williamsburg
Hello, fellow explorers! We are getting very close to departure time here and I’m addressing this very important step in my preparation! I guess we’ll start with a little about me and my volunteer plans. My name is Morgan Faulkner and I just finished my junior year at Centre College, located in scenic (though very small) Danville, KY. My majors are Religion and English literature, but since we’re a liberal arts college I’ve taken classes in lots of different areas. Some of those classes played a big part in my desire to volunteer and study abroad in the Middle East this summer.
I discovered through trial and error that traditional study abroad at my school wasn’t for me. For one thing, my location didn’t really agree with my health and for another, it was very hard to be away from a lot of the things that gave me purpose, including my volunteer work with my service fraternity Alpha Phi Omega. The moral of the story seemed to be that whatever I do with my life, I need to be doing something that serves a greater purpose. It was this discovery that led me to Creative Learning’s Mosaic Scholarship and their program, America’s Unofficial Ambassadors.
Reading about their scholarship opportunities gave me a real feeling of excitement. Until then, going abroad was just a wistful dream while I looked for a real summer job. Money is tight in my family right now and although I could afford not to work, we definitely don’t have the several thousands of dollars lying around that would allow me to do the kind of work I most desire. I looked through all of the programs AUA had listed, trying to decide which program I would apply for. Finally, I settled on the Middle East Fellowship, specifically their Damascus Summer Encounter, and I was accepted. All I needed next was the money. I literally jumped for joy when I got the email that I was being considered for AUA’s Mosaic Scholarship, even though nothing was set in stone.
As anyone who has seen the news lately knows, the conflict in Syria has been escalating. The Middle East Fellowship was compelled to cancel programs in Syria on account of safety concerns. Both MEF and AUA worked expeditiously to find an alternative for me to volunteer. MEF emailed me to ask if I would like to go to the Palestinian Territories instead. AUA offered to fund my new venture with MEF. My brief concern that I would no longer be able to spend the summer abroad was assuaged and now that I was back on track, I again jumped for joy.
And now here I am, 6 days before I embark on what promises to be the greatest adventure of my life, and it still doesn’t feel real. I’ve read the travel guides, the orientation packets, talked with friends and family, and begun the agonizing decision of what to pack. But there are things bugging me right now as I prepare to depart which never have before.
One of them is the fact that I’ve only found two travel guides that seem to acknowledge that Israel and the Palestinian Territories are two separate entities. The orientation packets and books I’ve read on the Palestinian/Israeli conflict in the past weeks have made it very clear that a huge gulf lies between the two nations and that no one can claim an uncontested right to this land, but none of them talk about the details of it.
Trying to put together a wardrobe that will honor and respect the conservative, Muslim culture that I hope to become a temporary part of, I have gained a new understanding and respect for American women who feel morally obligated to dress in a conservative manner. In store after store, I find an endless string of sleeveless shirts, tiny skirts, and dresses that could easily pass as a top. I lament the lack of a good cardigan that could at least make the risqué acceptable.
The thing is, conservative clothing isn’t a subject I’m really passionate about. If women choose to wear revealing clothing then I believe that they have the right to do so. After all, in a democratic society that has prided itself on protecting everyone’s right of expression, what could be more fundamental than allowing women to choose their own clothing? But what about women who choose the opposite? Have we made it impossible for a woman to say that her body is her own business and that she has the power to choose how much of it she shows to certain people? Legally, of course not, but practically, I’d like to get the names of the stores they frequent, because I am running out of options. And as the options dwindle, my sympathy grows.
When I tell friends I’m going to Palestine they look at me strangely and ask, but where? I tell them Bethlehem and invariably they respond, but isn’t that in Israel? Perhaps they were not prepared for my new ten minute explanation about the struggle over the West Bank and its actual current political situations, but I no longer find myself prepared to just smile and nod in return. They protest that I shouldn’t be going to such a troubled place, even claiming that I’m too intelligent to do something so stupid as to throw my life away, since clearly I won’t make it out alive.
Mentors at school who have worked and travelled extensively in the area, however, are thrilled. Everyone says I will doubtlessly meet great people and make new friends. They also say that I will discover a new “secret”, that the stereotypes some people hold, believing that Arabs and Muslims are dangerous and unpredictable and not worth our best efforts are wrong. They are just people. Just like you and me, they have parents, siblings, children, friends, and dreams. They need food and water and shelter to survive, and if they can get work and an education for their children on top of it then it’s been a pretty good day. We are blinded by rhetoric and fear of what we do not know and do not understand. Instead of human beings, we see political agendas and a peace that depends on our desire not to look too closely at the ugly details of a bad situation.
My goal in my travels is to learn the secret for myself. I want to seek these people, learn about their world, their families, and their dreams. My heart longs for these relationships at the same time it fears their rejection. I come from a world that has turned a blind eye and deaf ear to their sufferings, and my greatest desire is to prove that I no longer want to be one of those people. AUA director Ben Orbach gave me some of the best advice I’ve gotten so far: listen and respect, show sincerity where it exists, and don’t be afraid to see the differences. What specifically I will learn, I’m not sure yet. I want to learn what they have to teach me. Beyond that, I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.
AUA Volunteer and one of the first Mosaic Scholarship winners, Alison Horton was featured in the Times Union today! The article describes Alison’s aims for her service abroad and why she chose to volunteer with BRAC, the Bangladesh Rural Advancement Committee. She talks about the fact that she feels the aims of AUA are admirable. Of AUA and the decision to volunteer in Bangladesh she says,
Photo courtesy of Robert, a BRAC volunteer.
“The idea is to better represent Americans to Muslims and, conversely, better represent Muslims to Americans. I feel fortunate to have that opportunity, but what drew me to Bangladesh was the poverty. I’m interested in Muslim-American relations, and I’m all for improving that.”
Make sure to read the full article here to discover more about Alison. She will be writing her own blog entries, sending back photos and posting videos online to share her experiences in Bangladesh, so stay tuned! Everyone at AUA is excited to hear about her time in Bangladesh. Remember to apply for the Mosaic Scholarship if you’re interesting in receiving funding for your service abroad and look at our directory to find many great volunteer opportunities.
