The Rest of the Story: Gaza, My Grandmother, and Me

Hi everyone, 

My family's rabbi, Rabbi Rim, once told me about a time in his life, a between time, that was a time of poetry. I've been in a time like that. There are rich images and meanings, but they do not form a finished narrative.  

And yet, during all this time, there is another story, a story I told began with you years ago.

Remember two summers ago, when I told you about the dream I had of supporting people in Gaza, inspired by my grandmother? And, incredibly, how we raised the money together, in just a couple months?

You might be wondering: What happened with that?

There is a story there, and that story keeps gently reminding me to come back to you. 

It turns out, money was not the biggest challenge. 

Once we had the money, the next step was getting permits. There were many people from Palestine, Israel, and the United States who put a lot of energy into making it happen. 

The time of the training drew closer, and there it was still not clear how the young people were going to be able to go. The money was there, the will was there, but the permission to travel was not. 

The time of the training came. None of them were given permits.

The training passed.

We shifted our sights to another training, a few months later. We would try again. 

This time, it worked! After many hours of hard work of the organizers of the training in the NVC community of Palestine and Israel, we managed to get four permits. 

It turns out, getting a permit was still not enough. 

The barriers faced by people living in a Gaza are many, beyond what most of us who are living in other places can imagine. 

In the end, of the four, only one of the people made it to the training. 

I don't have many details... and I am aware that if I did, I could accidentally put someone in danger by sharing something that would put them at risk. 

I was delighted that one person made it. And I imagined the heartbreak and struggle of the 3 others who were planning to go, longing for this opportunity, and couldn't be there. I imagined the many many others who longed for such an opportunity to have hope, learning, and connection. 

I shifted my strategy. 

Remember the after school program Mohammed was dreaming about? He made it happen. The tuition payments for those who were not able to get out of Gaza to attend the NVC training went to the Shijaeya community project, contributing to hope, learning, and connection inside of Gaza. I was thrilled to see the pictures of the young people in Mohammed's neighborhood with fresh chances to thrive in the midst of the destruction. You can see pictures here, and you can support the program here. 

There was more, though. There was the money that had been set aside for someone to attend the yearlong BayNVC Leadership Program. I was not ready to give up on this. I had no idea how it could happen. I adjusted my timeline. I was ready to wait and to trust.

Almost a year passed. 

Then, last summer, I met Azzam. I had just arrived on Vashon Island. So had he. He had gathered a small group of people from Palestine and Israel to attend the Nonviolent Communication Family Camp that has been happening here for over a decade. They were hoping to learn together how they could create such an experience back home. I was here to support them. I was also planning to stay on Vashon and make it my home. 

NVC Family Camp 2015

Over two weeks, I had the honor of hearing their stories and their dreams. 

The seven members of the Palestinian/Israeli group.

For Azzam, this included learning NVC well enough to share it back home in Palestine, in Arabic. He also dreamed of learning NVC well enough that he could bring the lens of human needs to his journalism, so he could tell the stories of conflict - stories that desperately needed to be told - in a way that held the humanity of everyone, rather than leading to greater strife and division. 

He didn't know how he was going to do this. He didn't have a permit to stay in the US. He didn't have money to pay for training. He didn't know how to get the level of training in NVC that he needed in order to fulfill his dream. 

"Have you heard of the BayNVC Leadership Program?" I asked him. He had not. 

Over several days, we walked and we talked. I told him about my grandmother and about the money that you all gave to provide training. I told him about not being able to get permits for those from Gaza. We talked about the blatant inequality, of the power I had to decide what to do with this money, and the privileges of being an American citizen with the freedom to be here in the US. 

In the end, it was not so much a decision as an arising of an obvious truth - this money would be used to support Azzam in participating in the BayNVC Leadership Program. 

Azzam digging a hole to plant a fig tree, a symbol of peace, in the Family Camp garden.

Of course, the dream grew bigger than that. Miki and Roxy from BayNVC had even more ideas. Why not have him intern at BayNVC for the whole year of the program? That way, he could do whatever NVC-infused journalism projects he wanted, receive mentorship, and attend not just the BayNVC Leadership Program, but any other learning programs BayNVC offered during the year. 

And, in the end, after many many hours of work on many people's parts to navigate the ins and outs of visas and work status and all the complexities of being a Palestinian in the United States, it happened. 

At the end of February, Azzam began with the rest of the BayNVC Leadership Program 2016 cohort. He interns at BayNVC. He's been living in the Bay Area, learning NVC, and practicing journalism. You can read his perspective on being a Muslim and in the aftermath of the mass shooting in Orlando here. You can learn more about Azzam's story on his webpage. 

I am filled with gratitude for the chance to be part of this unfolding story. Thank you all for all of your support and for helping turn these dreams into reality. 

With love,
Amanda