Hamed's Birthday Party

The warmer weather is finally here and along with it comes outdoor parties. Today I attended my first birthday party as a teacher. As I headed to the spot where I catch the servees van back to Nablus, I was accosted by one of my favorite students. Quds is in 5th grade and, although average in her academic English, is precocious in her speaking ability.

"Come, come!" She pulled my hand. "My brother's party is today. We want you to come, please!" It didn't seem like I had much choice in the matter. Her brother, Hamed, is also one of my students.

The birthday boy, Hamed. 

"Just for a little bit." I was wary to stay too late and miss the last servees home.

The purple plastic chairs were set up in a circle in the garden. In the center stood several tables, parading as one massive table. It was loaded with plates of various snacks and a beautiful white cake with one large candle. Kids of all ages sat around the table, eagerly awaiting the signal to go ahead and dig in. There was a contagious giggle present that is often found at birthday parties. That is something which is certainly universal.

Hamed literally squealed when he saw me. He was so excited to have me at his party. I had never seen this already cheerful child any happier. It was then, for the first time, I saw through a teacher's eyes what a teacher's presence and approval mean to a child. I know I will remember Hamed's 9th birthday party forever.

After several renditions of "Happy Birthday" including an Arabic version complete with clapping, the music continued. Several popular Arabic songs were sung and then my students performed the Deir Al-Hatab top single, "We Will Rock You" along with several other tunes I taught them in English class.  I was given the honor and duty of cutting the cake. But true to Arab hospitality, my attempt to cut myself a small piece was thwarted and I was served an impossibly huge slice to work on.

As the food was finished, the games begun with a balloon tossing activity. The sun was quickly setting, and despite many protests, I was forced to head home.

The party felt like a window into the world of my students, which is something truly invaluable. Although I ended up taking an expensive taxi home, I wouldn't change a thing about this experience.

A funny moment with some of my students. 

A Forced Vacation

Taking a vacation isn't really fun if you don't have the money for it. Nor is it fun if you are forced to take it without a regard for your personal desire. It is especially not fun if you don't know whether you will be able to return from it, back to the life you know and love. This was the situation for me as I headed to Dahab, Egypt for a few days. 

Dahab, Egypt

Dahab is a famed alternative resort destination. I found it to be an odd juxtaposition of local Bedouin culture (vestiges of the former fishing village) and the consumerist tourism culture of any resort town anywhere. Dahab was one of the few places I could stretch my savings far enough for me to do the necessary visa run. The necessity of this visa run was created by the complicated dynamic. Although I teach in the West Bank, in an area underneath Palestinian Authority control, my visa and ability to leave and enter the area is controlled by Israel. This makes it extraordinary difficult to get a visa that would allow me to continue to teach my students for the full semester, much less the whole school year. 

The moonrise over Saudi Arabia as seen from Dahab.

As I sat on the picturesque Red Sea, trying to enjoy the sun and warm wind, my thoughts always turned to the possibility I would be saying goodbye to Nablus and Deir al Hatab in just a few days. Often volunteers reentering the country are given shorter visas than normal, making it impossible to continue teaching. This sad possibility overshadowed the sunniness of Dahab. I couldn't imagine telling my 50 plus students in the village that I had to leave them. They are no longer just my students. They are my children in a way, my family away from home. I am very invested in each and every beautiful little future. 

Driving through the Sinai, enjoying the austere beauty. 

Today I received the best news possible. I am approved to stay in Nablus for another three months. This news made my travels to Dahab completely worth it. It was worth draining my limited resources. It was worth sleeping in a dilapidated hotel room where the slats were more than present through the thin mattress (the only accommodations a volunteer teacher can realistically afford). It was worth being stranded in a small desert town hundreds of kilometers from my destination due to a 10-day bus strike. It was worth being a single traveler alone in a resort town geared for groups of tourists. Despite the hours of teaching preparation I have to squeeze into one day (tomorrow), I can't wait to see my students and tell them that they get to continue to learn English and that I don't have to leave them yet.

An afternoon in the village: haunted caves, hecklers, and tea galore!

I was so excited when Tala finally asked me to come visit her and her family at their house. I had been hinting, bribing, and finally outright asking my students to invite me to meet their families. Despite the fact that my students obviously love me (I find evidence for this as they cheer when I walk in the classroom and have started bringing me flowers), they were too shy, or thought it strange to invite me to their house. Luckily for me, after Tala invited me to her home, I had a whole slew of invitations that followed. I credit Tala for breaking the ice.

Tala's younger sister Leen is in my less advanced class, while Tala is one of my best students in my higher class. I headed to their house on a beautiful Saturday afternoon, excited to see what life was like for my students outside of class.  

The view while walking to Leen and Tala's house on the outskirts of the village.

Tala and Leen come from a family totaling seven sisters and one brother. I got to meet the whole family except one of the sisters while I was there. Expecting a simple tea, I was pleasantly surprised as they warmly welcomed me in to their family to share a full meal. After tea and sweets, they fed me the most delicious meal of spiced chicken and soup. Following several rounds of tea and coffee, the girls took me on a walk to explore the neighboring caves, learn a bit about the local village folklore, and enjoy the newly budding flowers.

Out walking with Leen, Tala, and two of their sisters.

One of Tala and Leen's older sisters is studying to become a pharmacist at the local university and knew all the names and medicinal uses for the native plants we saw. I was happy to finally learn some names of the shrubbery I see everyday. During our nature walk, I discovered that part of Deir al Hatab has an intricate system of caves underneath the olive tree and flower-covered hills. Legend has it that some of these caves are haunted. We peered into a few but mostly found trash. No ghosts this time!

Tala and Leen check out a wide cave opening.

Many of the caves have small dark openings that simply look like holes in the ground.

The walk concluded with an interesting insight into the dynamics between neighboring villages. As we walked through the fields, I was shown the border between Deir al Hatab and the neighboring (much larger) village of Salem. To the naked, uninformed eye, it is impossible to distinguish which house belongs to which village. But to the residents of these two villages, these distinctions seem important. Two girls from Salem heckled us at one point, yelling unsavory things and insults about Tala and Leen's family. I inquired where this hostility came from and was informed that it is a recent parting of ways, that at least these two villages used to get along quite well. Unfortunately our mutual language skills couldn't bring the conversation much further than this.  

Elma is the definition of feisty and loved our walk. 

I was sad to leave after only a few hours but received several invitations from Leen and Tala's older sisters to visit them at the university and a precious invitation from Leen and Tala's mom for Palestinian cooking lessons. I plan to take them up on both! I feel like I know Leen and Tala better now, and have noticed they seem even more comfortable and open in class. Not only did I enjoy myself immensely, it was meaningful to meet the important people in my students' lives.