Thursday, December 18, 2014
Thursday, December 11, 2014
Rachel Allen, from California via Colorado, is a participant on our Joint MA track with the Hebrew University. She is spending her year interning at Mesila as well as completing an MA in Non-Profit Management.
Oy, have I been busy! With school, my internship, my program and trying to maintain a life on top of it, I feel like the only reason I come back to the apartment is to sleep.
I love my grad program and find the classes to be very interesting and stimulating. Here is my class list:
Internship Workshop
Leadership and Social Responsibility
The Third Sector and Civil Society
Project Workshop
Organizational Theory for Non-Profits
Philanthropy and Civil Society
Researching Nonprofits
NGO Finances
Leadership and Social Responsibility
The Third Sector and Civil Society
Project Workshop
Organizational Theory for Non-Profits
Philanthropy and Civil Society
Researching Nonprofits
NGO Finances
It’s eight classes in two days. On Monday we start at 12:30 pm and are done at 6:00 pm and on Wednesdays we start at 10:30 am and finish at 8:00 pm with only 30 minutes breaks between each classes. Cap on either end of that over a two hour commute one way and it makes for some long, exhausting days. Each class assigns a lot of weekly reading and small papers as well. It’s proving a challenge to stay on top of it all.
On Sunday and Tuesday, I am at my internship. I intern at Mesila which is an NGO located in South Tel Aviv, where most of the refugee and asylum seeker community has settled. Most of the community fled from Sudan and Eritrea, walked through the Sinai Desert seeking safety in Israel. Mesila seeks to aid the children of this community. The parents work long, hard hours away from home. Because they are considered illegal, they are often exploited and paid very, low wages. They need a place to keep their children, so the community response to this has been the creation of around 70 illegal “babysitters”. What these places look like, generally, is an unventilated, small apartment that is filled with cribs. There are up to 30 children with one caregiver who only has time to look after their basic needs. There are no enrichment or development activities given to the children. All they do is eat and sleep for up to 12 hours a day. Some children get so bored, they start digging holes in the wall. They are starved of human affection and touch. It’s really heartbreaking.
Mesila seeks to address the phenomena on three levels; the individual level, the community level and the policy level. They put social workers and therapists into the babysitters to try to improve the settings for the children and also to identify the at-risk children and get them into a better environment. For instance, one social worker saw a three year old child who was not walking, only crawling. She got her to a doctor immediately and as it turns out, the child’s leg had been broken for several days and no one noticed or thought to take her in. At the community level, Mesila tries to partner with community leaders and parents through various programs and sessions, to give them them the tools and knowledge so they may advocate for a better environment for their children. Lastly, at the policy level, Mesila is trying to spread awareness of the issue and pressure the government to take notice of the phenomena and create some reforms.
The babysitters is just the main issue that Mesila is trying to change. They offer such a broad range of services to help combat other risks that a child from this community may be exposed to, such as violence and sexual abuse.
If you would like to read more about the organization, the issue as well as see some pictures, check out this website: http://friendsofmesila.weebly.com/
My internship is working with the fundraising department. I just helped complete a grant application to the UNHCR (United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees), which was a lot of work but was rewarding.
Something a little lighter
My Tuesdays look like this: I go to my internship from the morning to the late afternoon, then a cafe to read and study and finally to an Ulpan class (where I learn conversational Hebrew). I don’t get home till around ten in the evening.
One Tuesday evening, my roommate and I had just finished our readings and we were gathering our stuff to walk to Ulpan when we realized we were a little early. We decided to walk to the beach to bury our feet in the sand for a few minutes to kill some time.
I have a tendency to focus on how I’m feeling right in the moment, like how tired I am or how overwhelmed I am feeling at the amount of things I am committed to in my life, that it’s sometimes hard to stop and pull myself out of it to look at the bigger picture and also notice nice moments in life.
The few minutes on the beach, I was suddenly able to do just that. I realized that I spent my morning writing a grant to the United Nations to bring in the much needed funds that would directly improve the life of a child, then I studied in an artsy cafe in the heart of Tel Aviv, and suddenly found myself on the beach looking at the beautifully lit, old city of Jaffa against the dark night sky and listening to the crashing of the waves on the quiet beach before I was about to head to Ulpan where I would discuss interesting subjects in Hebrew with people from all over the world. That was probably the longest run on sentence I have ever written but my point is, although I often get bogged down by normal life things (like I’m sure we all do), I’m really happy with what I am doing on a day to day basis and I’m writing it down here so that tomorrow when I forget, you guys can remind me! :)
Thursday, December 4, 2014
The Balance Between Coexistence and Justice
Sarah Sheafer is a current Tikkun Olam volunteer from Indianapolis. As a participant on the Coexistence Track, she spends her time interning at the Windows – Channels for Communication and volunteering with children in Jaffa.
Silence consumed the room as I stared into the eyes of three teenage girls. It wasn’t until one of them blinked did I clear my throat and continue with the next activity. Being a 22-year-old Jewish American, I feel somewhat out of place. I teach English once a week at an all Arab high school in Jaffa as a participant on the volunteer program Tikkun Olam. I don’t feel out of place because of the Arabic written all over the white board or because I don’t wear a headscarf like my students. Nor do I necessarily feel out of place because I “look” different. I feel out of place because they know I’m Jewish.
As I now reflect on that day, I remember the anxious feeling that spread throughout my body when one of my students asked me in the middle of our lesson, “Are you Christian?” I had paused for a second before answering “no.” She then asked me, “Are you Jewish?” For some reason, I experienced a mixture of reluctance and guilt when I told them “yes.” I was shocked she would ask me this the first day of class, but I also expected it coming from a girl who cannot escape the religious tension surrounding her life.
Later that day, I went on a run along the coast. Usually when I run alone, I tune out the world around me by listening to music. But this time, I decided to open myself up to the many sounds of Jaffa. As I ran farther south, I began to hear more Arabic and less Hebrew. The tidbits of conversations I heard were both foreign and familiar. When I listened to people speaking in Arabic, sometimes I would recognize a word or two. After having studied a little of both Arabic and Hebrew, I knew they were similar languages, but the words I recognized weren’t just “similar” words; they were Hebrew words spoken by Palestinians to other Palestinians. For the first time, I intensely observed the people around me as I tried to remember all that I had witnessed since coming here. Experiences that had just been “experiences,” suddenly became much more than a mere moment of happiness, sadness or bewilderment. They became living and breathing insights into life in Israel and the conflict that plagues this region.
Sarah's view on her run in Jaffa |
Hearing Palestinians use Hebrew words in their daily speech should have made me feel happy, and maybe at the very least, indifferent. In Jaffa, Jews, Christians and Muslims coexist, and it’s not uncommon for Palestinians here to speak fluently in Hebrew. But something felt wrong. I began to reflect on everything I had observed since being here. At the same time, I analyzed the meaning of the word “coexistence.” In Jaffa, I shouldn’t feel uncomfortable being Jewish because it is known as a place of coexistence, but I can’t help but feel like I am intruding. The degree to which tension fills even a city like Jaffa makes me wonder the authenticity of this “coexistence.” Beneath the exterior of this forced relationship - Jews, Muslims and Christians - there are many narratives unable to penetrate the surface. While Jaffa may appear relatively peaceful, I found myself asking: “How can there be true peace when there is no justice?”
I ask myself this question every day during my time interning at the non-profit organization Windows – Channels for Communication. When I first visited its office, I remember glancing upon a white board with words connected to the organization’s name. One of the words stood out: anti-normalization. The process of normalization occurs when certain ideas and actions become “natural” in everyday life, regardless if they are just or unjust. Critics against normalization sometimes call it the “colonization of the mind,” referring to the process by which an oppressed subject comes to believe their situation is “normal” reality and accepts the status quo. Windows is a unique peace organization because it recognizes the danger of a creeping normalcy. Instead, it realizes the need to promote not only coexistence, but also justice.
The organization empowers Palestinian and Israeli youth to openly speak about their
beliefs regarding discrimination and the violation of human rights. The participants engage in discussions and workshops, exploring various narratives of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. As part of the program, the youth produce a magazine in Arabic and Hebrew. Because of my experience with design and journalism, I am the intern in charge of the magazine’s layout. Last week, I transcribed an interview in order to write an article about one of Windows’ graduates.
The interviewee’s story left an impression on me. The young Jewish Israeli talked about the moment when she realized her life was built on the missed opportunities of others. When she was 10 years old, her mother took her to Atarim Square in Tel Aviv, pointing to the bustling place and told her, “This used to be a Muslim cemetery.” From that moment on, she struggled to cope with the reality around her. It is her desire to change this reality by addressing the Israeli education system and tackling the language barrier. While Jewish Israelis study Arabic in school, they do not study it to the extent they focus on English. Some school graduates are barely able to muster words like shukran (thank you). For those who remember the language, many never speak it to their Palestinian neighbors. There are two official languages in Israel, but one is pushed to the side.
In addition to interning at Windows and volunteering at an Arab high school, I teach English at a mixed middle school in Jaffa. During our orientation, the volunteer coordinator told us that some of the Palestinian children have better Hebrew than Arabic because all of their classes are taught in the former. Some of their parents intentionally placed them in this school because they realized a strong grasp of Hebrew is necessary to succeed in Israel. If both Hebrew and Arabic are the official languages of Israel, one shouldn’t be considered secondary.
I’ve also noticed language serve as a barrier when I volunteer at Shahaf, a center where kindergarteners from all over Jaffa come and learn about the environment. Many of the kindergarteners speak only Arabic, and I find myself struggling to communicate with them. I’ve made an effort to learn a few words in Arabic, but I can’t help notice that some of the Hebrew-speaking staff members refrain from even trying to communicate and only speak in Hebrew to the confused children. If Israelis work with the Arabic-speaking community, why don’t they make more of an effort to learn the language?
I’ve only lived in Jaffa for two months, but I’ve already observed the intricacies of the issues present in Israel. I decided to volunteer on Tikkun Olam’s Coexistence Track because I thought “coexistence” meant peace. As I learn that there’s more to peace than just an absence of people shooting at one another, I’m starting to notice the need for more open dialogue and the promotion of justice. My participation in Tikkun Olam has opened my eyes to a necessary shift in social perceptions and attitudes about the conflict. We should not only be focusing on coexistence; we should be struggling for a just peace.
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
A Window Into My Life
Jodi Becker is a 10-month Social Action track participant from Sydney, Australia. During her time on Tikkun Olam, she will be volunteering at Kav L'Oved, Kadima, and BINA. Here she gives a personal account of her first two months on the program.
Two months ago I
arrived in Israel as part of the Tikkun Olam volunteer and internship program
in Tel Aviv – Jaffa. The first month here was devoted to orientation, where we
had an opportunity to get to know each other, do intensive Ulpan and go on
placement visits in order to start thinking about where it is that we would
like to volunteer/intern. I was really grateful for this initial period, as I
felt it was a time which helped me get my bearings in terms of getting a feel
for how to navigate myself around the city, being able to make myself
understood in basic Hebrew, building friendships with the other participants
and Israeli locals and to start thinking about where it was that I wanted to
volunteer.
Living within the
city of Tel Aviv has also brought me a continuous stream of multifaceted enjoyment.
This is a city with its own irrepressible soul - and
I can say from experience that there's nowhere else like it. From the buzzing, upbeat and youthful liveliness, which is
encapsulated by the hustle and bustle of going to buy fruit and vegetables at
the shuk, where you can hone your bartering skills; to spending my Shabbats basking in the sun at Jaffa beach, whilst
countless dogs create mini sand storms as they zip past you, and where you can
be rocked by the ocean’s waves, soundtracked by the happy
pings of 10,000 games of matkot and the muezzin — or Muslim calls to prayer; to dancing the night away in the countless clubs and bars all over
the city, where Tel Aviv nights become Tel Aviv
mornings before you know it, as "last call" only comes when the final patron has finished
their drink and stumbled out the door; to the countless
fresh juice stands dotted all over the city, which sell
giant cups of life-giving fruit juices that taste like they were squeezed from
the vine of Eden; to the relentless diversity, which is evidenced by the insane mix of ethnicities and religions, which today
stir through the city; Tel Aviv is a city where
you never need to be bored; it is a place where there is always something on
offer, for absolutely everyone, as it is filled with countless opportunities to
appreciate the simple pleasures in life.
Something I’ve
also enjoyed, from the very beginning, is the experience of living communally
with people from all over the world. Living in an international share house, with
eight housemates, is an incredibly enjoyable experience. In my house we have
two Americans, from New York and California (one of whom has previously lived
in Peru and speaks fluent Spanish), a Chilean, an Argentine, a Brit, three
Israelis and me. It’s a truly amazing experience getting to live in such a
diverse environment, with a constant stream of Hebrew, Spanish and English
ringing out in the background of my daily life. It’s incredibly interesting to
be exposed to such a wide variety of differing cultural perspectives on a daily
basis. I feel that this experience is widening my eyes and opening my mind,
simply by being constantly surrounded by such a variety of people, with
differing perspectives, experiences and beliefs.
A tradition, which
I have been partaking in with the other Tel Aviv participants on a regular
basis, and which I enjoy a lot, is our weekly potluck Shabbat. Every Friday
night we all get together and each bring a dish, or something to contribute, to
my friend’s apartment. It’s really nice to have this time together, at the end
of the week, to unwind and enjoy each other’s company over delicious homemade
food. During this time we also go around and tell each other what the highlight
of our week has been. It’s a good way to check in with each other and see what
it is that is being valued most by other people who are sharing the same
experience, on a weekly basis.
Ulpan has by far
been one of the best on-going experiences I’ve had here in Israel. The classes
are great in themselves and our teacher, Yael, is incredible. These classes
make me feel so motivated to improve my Hebrew, which is reinforced by the way
Israeli’s treat me when I make the effort to speak with them in it. I’ve also
recently signed up for an Ulpan alternative, called This Is Not An Ulpan. This
is a non-profit class devoted to food, where we meet once a week with people
from all over the world to talk about food in Hebrew, as well as to cook and
eat together. It’s a really unique and innovative way of learning Hebrew and
becoming more comfortable speaking in it in a relaxed, fun and open
environment. I’m feeling incredibly motivated to improve my Hebrew and I can’t
believe how far I’ve come with it in only two months. I also find that my daily
interactions with Israeli’s have become far more interesting and I feel as
though they respect and accept me more, with every effort I make to converse
with them in their own language.
The thing which
has struck me most, and which has been the best part of my experience here so
far, is the experience that I am having with Israelis. From the very beginning
I have felt as though I have been welcomed into this country with open arms and
have been given the feeling that I have a place here in Israel, my second home.
One of my favourite things to do here is to spend time alone, exploring the
city. As every time I do I am overwhelmed by the incredible experiences I have
with the locals. Whether it’s an
artist I met at the artist’s market, who told me of his recent trip to India
over a cup of Chai; to a new friend I made sitting on a public bench, who I
hardly go a day now without speaking to; to the local store owners who get
excited when I make the smallest effort to speak with them in Hebrew; my
amazing madricha, who has been there for me one hundred percent, whether I’ve
had a fall and needed stitches, or needed advice on where to volunteer; to the
countless Israelis who have offered to help me find my way whenever I’ve
appeared lost; and the multiplex of other incredible experiences I have here on
a daily basis. There’s without a doubt something incredibly special and
unique about Israelis. They are extremely un-superficial, have a sense of care
and feeling for each other (even amongst strangers), which I have not yet
witnessed before, have very unique and beautiful outlooks, and ways of
perceiving their surroundings, and have a way of making me feel so accepted and
cared for. I feel so comfortable here,
knowing that even though Israelis can often come off as rude and abrasive on
the outside, as they can be rough, pushy and brimming
with chutzpah, if you push
back, drop the foreign formalities, and approach them with an open mind and
open heart, the people of Tel Aviv will take you in as one of their own, as when it comes to anything important they will be there completely,
as on the inside they know what really matters.
My experiences
with the people here have also led me to question my Jewish identity, as this is
something which I had felt estranged from, for a long time in my past, and
which I have been thinking about a lot during my time here. A long time ago I
stopped believing in religion and started to develop my own form of
spirituality to live by. Yet I had still retained a sense of cultural identity
as a Jew, however this is something I hadn’t really started to explore until I
came here. For the first time in my life I now really feel as though I’ve found
my people, who I feel extremely connected to in ways I can’t yet explain... I feel
as though the people here are tied to each other in some underlying way, as
though this is a country made up of a big family, with roots going back
thousands of years. Although there is simultaneously a deep divide between the
religious and secular Jews, which I am aware of everyday, and which made me
uncomfortable in the beginning, I am coming to understand, and come to terms
with, as the way things are more and more every day. I have started to
appreciate their way of life from a detached, outsider perspective and have
started to really enjoy having it in the background of my life. For example,
whenever there is a chag, I really enjoy sitting on my roof and listening to
the festivities going on around me. As I live in Kiriyat Shalom, a religious neighborhood
in South Tel Aviv, it’s easy to be a silent witness to the goings on of the
religious way of life here, without having to actually partake in it at all.
It’s really nice to hear people coming together, to sing, dance and eat, all
united by traditions, which date back for centuries.
Volunteering has
also been an amazing part of my experience here in Israel so far, although I’ve
only just started and have still yet to start my most important one. After
going to nearly 20 placement visits, and getting a sense of the multitude of
differing placement options on offer, I have decided to volunteer my time at
Kav L’Oved (which I’ve yet to start), an organization which provides help for disadvantaged people, including refugees,
migrant workers and Arab Israelis, by helping them find resilience in
overcoming difficulties they face at work, assisting them to navigate their way through
legal limitations which are imposed on them, and making sure Israeli labour law
is being enforced. I have just started volunteering at Kadima Youth Centre,
which is a daycare centre for children aged 7-12 of African descent, where I
spend my time helping kids with their homework, teaching them English and
playing with them. I’m enjoying volunteering here a lot, as they soak up any
information I give them like little sponges, whilst helping me to improve my
Hebrew. Finally, I’m volunteering my time at Bina Secular Yeshiva,
which is the only
non-orthodox institute of its kind in Israel today. I really believe in this
organisation, as it provides an opportunity for secular Jews to come together
to learn Hebrew, Israeli history and discuss what it means to consider oneself
as culturally Jewish. It’s an amazing organisation and I think it’s very important
to have such an institution in Israeli life, which enables secular Jews to
engage with Judaism in a way which is meaningful for them.
Looking back and
thinking over my time and experiences here it’s hard to believe I’ve only been
here two months. So much has happened, my thinking has been challenged in so
many ways and I’m growing to love this place more and more everyday. It’s only
been two months and I’m already thinking very seriously about making Aliyah, as
the only recurring thought I’ve had since I’ve been here, which has really
troubled me personally, is that ultimately this experience will come to an end.
I love it here in Israel and everyday it starts to feel more and more like the
best home I’ve ever known. Maybe one day
it really will be…
Sunday, June 8, 2014
Yom Haatzmaut at the Michael Levin Lone Soldier Center
Leah Thomas is a current 5-month participant on the Coexistence Track. She spends her time interning at the Lone Soldier Center and volunteering in Jaffa. On Yom Haatzmaut, Israeli Independence Day, Leah and other participants of Tikkun Olam organized a Friday night dinner at the Lone Soldier Center.
My name is Leah Thomas and I am a recent graduate from the University of Texas at Austin. This time last year I was brainstorming what I would do after undergrad and I almost immediately realized that I wanted to travel and volunteer (more specifically I wanted to do some type of “Jewish volunteering”). After checking out my options and stumbling upon the Masa programs browser, I found Tikkun Olam in Tel Aviv-Jaffa- a Jewish social justice program that combines seminar classes and hands on opportunities to volunteer and intern with in-need populations and non-profit organizations in South Tel Aviv for 5 or 10 months.
And here I am!...writing about one of the most wonderful experiences I have had yet, which was helping organize a Yom Ha’atzmaut Shabbat Dinner that included reading and re-interpreting Israel’s Declaration of Independence, at my main internship site, the Lone Soldier Center in Tel Aviv. But before I go in depth about this event and it’s significance, I will first explain what the Lone Soldier Center is.
Lone Soldier Center is a non-profit organization with four physical locations (in Beer Sheva, Tel Aviv, Jerusalem and Kibbutz Gesher in the North) that runs solely to support lone soldiers in the IDF from Israel and from abroad. The center does everything from hosting Shabbat dinners and offering a warm family environment for soldiers to assisting soldiers with literally every logistical problem they may and will encounter.
Now returning back to the topic of the Yom Ha’atzmaut Shabbat dinner... Every Shabbat dinner I have attended through Lone Soldier Center has been wonderful but the Yom Ha’atzmaut Shabbat stood out in particular. What it made it so special was, firstly, being able to celebrate Israeli independence day with the brave men and women, who left their home abroad or left their home in Israel through adverse circumstances to serve this wonderful, small and balagan country; the Jewish state. Secondly, taking the time to read over and analyze the Israeli Declaration of Independence gave this holiday extra meaning and further solidified the moral grounds that Israel was founded upon and still strives to uphold in the present. Lastly, two German members of parliament attended this event- MP Roderich Keiswetter and MP Dr. Thomas Feist. Their presence was greatly appreciated and was a unique opportunity for both the Israelis and Anglos who were there.
Not surprisingly, this event was a great success for the lone solider community, for the Daniel Centers and BINA (Tikkun Olam's parent organizations), who arranged a range of projects surrounding the Declaration of Independence around the country, and for my other outstanding friends from Tikkun Olam. My time at the Lone Soldier Center has exposed me to people and narratives that I would never have had the opportunity of being in contact with or knowing of normally. Also, a huge moment of thanks and recognition should be given to the staff and volunteers who make the Lone Soldier Center run and for the lone soldiers themselves, who are human symbols of what it means to be a hero and a leader. Every day they do their service for Israel out of their own will, compassion and ambition and for that, all I can say is “Kol Hakavod and Toda Raba!”
Tikkun Olam participants at the dinner |
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