Days not to be forgotten-

It is quite sad how often we tend to forget the simple but beautiful days of our life. Today was one of those I don't want to forget. Here is my day.
At Project Hope's office I gave an Italian lesson to a local volunteer and afterwards I found myself making soap boxes with other 15 people. The scene was very funny.
Two local volunteers enter the common room with a big box full of little carton boxes to be folded into soap boxes. They sit and while chatting start folding. I was on a couch next to them on my computer. After few minutes every single person who enters the room sits and starts folding boxes. From two the 'folders' become five. The floor is covered in boxes. In ten minutes the room is packed with people...and COVERED in green boxes.

What struck me was this sense of 'automatic participation' like when in a house somebody turns on the tv and sits on a sofa. Than passively somebody else joins in; there is no need for an invitation or comments. Nobody was asked to help today. People were just investing a little of their time in folding boxes while laughting. As the room filled with boxes, the air filled with a sense of light minded gayness and a sense of community that I very much envy about the Palestinian society.

After our boxing session, Erik and I took a cab with one of the local volunteers to Askar. Our first lesson to the Youth Center's staff was quite a success. We had three students: two older men and a 20 year old woman. After a 'placement exam' we had a little chat and our students presented themselves. H. is an accountant and he told us about his 5 children. One of them, 19 years old, was killed by Israeli soldiers in 2003. A. has 4 children and has a past as a soccer player, he is now apparently a referee and proudly showed us his 'FIFA referee ID card'. S . is attending her first year of computer science at the university. Apparently, a very high percentage of young girls finish university before they marry. The youth center, they explained, is operated completely by volunteers who are elected every two years.

When our time ran out at 7, our new students offered to teach us some Arabic while Erik and I tried to copy elegant symbols written from right to left. They offered us some delicious tea with fresh sage and then offered to drive us back home from Askar. In the ride they talked about Palestinians and how important it is for them that people like us (western) really understand that they do just want peace and freedom.

Every time Palestinians talk about their struggle with us, they do it with a sense of mindful calm, adding 'Alhamdulillah' which means something like 'All praise be to Allah'. I feel faith actually must help a lot in their position. I am programed to be rational and to 'pretend' justice and if I step in the Palestinian's shoes for a second, I just feel crazy. What would I do in their position? I don't mean this as a political statement; Objectively, life has been and still is very tuft for the Palestinians.

We arrived home feeling strange. How can these people make me feel so well with myself? They have the magic power to make me appreciate my existence through the pride they take in every day actions, like folding boxes in group, or talking about their life in English while sipping tea with some foreign kids.