To the Children of Palestine

Walking through the streets of Nablus, it is difficult not to notice all the children. There are children playing soccer and cycling in the streets, children selling watermelon and cucumbers in the Old City, and children laughing with friends on steps to pass the time.

As I look at them, most of the children look back at me with big, curious eyes. Most walk by me cautiously, but some are confident and approach me to ask me where I am from. Few smile at me, but if I smile first, all of them flash huge, goofy smiles back.

When I found out I had been accepted to an internship program in Palestine, I was a little hesitant. Since graduating from university, I had spent most of my time in corporate roles that were neither fulfilling nor making a difference in the world. I knew a summer in Palestine would be different from my past experiences and I was not entirely sure what I could actually offer the youth of Palestine.

This past summer, Tomorrow’s Youth Organization developed a summer camp for youth from disadvantaged communities and refugee camps in Nablus to supplement its year-round programming.

As an intern, I was responsible for creating and implementing the day-to-day programming for kids who just finished third grade. My summer program focused on building self-confidence, developing self-expression, team building, and helping youth become agents of change in their communities.

On a daily basis, I was shocked at the eagerness, curiosity, friendliness, and resilience of the kids despite their circumstances. The majority of them have had their worlds limited to the walls of a refugee camp. And yet, they walk into the center each morning with smiles on their faces, passion to engage with the wider world around them, and hearts bigger than you can even imagine.

My doubts about what I could offer or teach the kids at the center quickly subsided. I realized early on that the children of Palestine would teach me far more than I could ever teach them. The most that I could do was be fully present for each of them.

The kids taught me that you can see the world in a child’s eyes. You can see innocence, but also anxiety, depression, and pain in the same pair of eyes. You can see the generosity and compassion of kids who have nothing, but also the strains of self-centeredness that have developed after years of feeling they cannot depend on anyone or anything. You can feel the excitement that radiates from them when I tell them that I am half-Palestinian, and the subsequent confusion when they ask me what Palestinian refugee camp I am from in the United States. And, as they eagerly try to guess how long the bus ride from Palestine to America is, I cannot help but feel a profound sense of  hopelessness when it hits me that they may never fly on a plane and see the rest of the world.

Most of all, the children of Palestine will teach you how to love. Whether you are playing soccer with kids at Tomorrow’s Youth Organization or walking by kids on the street you may never see again, it’s hard not to fall in love with them. All of them.

The girl who squeezes my hand every five minutes in class so that she can show me her drawing. The boy who beams with pride as he shows us his grandfather’s soap factory and tells us how his family makes the traditional Nabulsi soap. The Palestinian boy in Jerusalem who trips while pushing a tray full of ka’ak, wipes the sweat off his face as he picks up the ka’ak from the ground piece by piece, and gets back up again. And the boy standing on the steps in the Old City of Nablus with a t-shirt that reads, “The night has a thousand eyes.”

To the children of Palestine,  I see you.

-Lena, Summer 2019 International Intern