Report from Palestine
September 2006
During the three weeks I was in Palestine, I
noticed the children in my neighborhood. I
could look down on them from the windows
of Ramzi’s fifth floor apartment. Most of the
buildings in the old city of Ramallah are no
more than two stories so I could see them
playing in the street or on balconies or on
roofs. They came and went forming and
reforming different groups. Often segregated
by sex but not always. Since all the schools
run by the Palestinian Authority are closed and
have been for six months the play is a kind of
full time activity. The first thing I noticed was
their range.
September 2006
During the three weeks I was in Palestine, I
noticed the children in my neighborhood. I
could look down on them from the windows
of Ramzi’s fifth floor apartment. Most of the
buildings in the old city of Ramallah are no
more than two stories so I could see them
playing in the street or on balconies or on
roofs. They came and went forming and
reforming different groups. Often segregated
by sex but not always. Since all the schools
run by the Palestinian Authority are closed and
have been for six months the play is a kind of
full time activity. The first thing I noticed was
their range.
One day I saw a couple small girls playing outside a hairdressers storefront, blocks away from what I
was pretty sure was their home. As I walked by I saw them go inside, probably asking questions, the
way kids wander into the Kamandjati music center. I began seeing children I recognized wandering all
over the old city. The play often centered around vacant lots and chunks of stone. The boys had
bicycles but often there were several boys to one bike. Several times I saw children yelling at other
children from rooftops. One day I was buttonholed by Saef, a very small boy maybe 5 years old. He
was accompanied by two somewhat older girls, possibly his sisters. He asked me question after
question while the girls kept telling him that I didn’t speak Arabic. “Mish Arabiye”. We did exchange
names. As we were talking a couple boys came up and began making running motions and pointing at
me. I’d been running at dusk and would discreetly slip out of the neighborhood, not wanting to call
attention to myself as I never saw another runner, but obviously everyone knew what I’d been doing.
Then Saef poked me and laughed so I poked him and laughed back. A couple days later I saw him come
into the Kamandjati center to get his very small violin. He poked me. Celine, a young Lebanese Women
who manages the office, told me his name meant sword. “Perfect”, I said.
was pretty sure was their home. As I walked by I saw them go inside, probably asking questions, the
way kids wander into the Kamandjati music center. I began seeing children I recognized wandering all
over the old city. The play often centered around vacant lots and chunks of stone. The boys had
bicycles but often there were several boys to one bike. Several times I saw children yelling at other
children from rooftops. One day I was buttonholed by Saef, a very small boy maybe 5 years old. He
was accompanied by two somewhat older girls, possibly his sisters. He asked me question after
question while the girls kept telling him that I didn’t speak Arabic. “Mish Arabiye”. We did exchange
names. As we were talking a couple boys came up and began making running motions and pointing at
me. I’d been running at dusk and would discreetly slip out of the neighborhood, not wanting to call
attention to myself as I never saw another runner, but obviously everyone knew what I’d been doing.
Then Saef poked me and laughed so I poked him and laughed back. A couple days later I saw him come
into the Kamandjati center to get his very small violin. He poked me. Celine, a young Lebanese Women
who manages the office, told me his name meant sword. “Perfect”, I said.
Gradually I saw a large percentage of the local children waiting for lessons at the
center, including the custodian’s son. Ramzi told me that they are not selected
by talent as much as by interest. The children of the old city have a very
proprietary look about them when they come into the center. Celine always
smiles and listens to their questions and laughs. One day as I was drinking
coffee in the morning I noticed from the window a group of very small children
in the little courtyard across the street sitting all lined up on a bench across from
an older boy. It looked like a school so I watched for a while. Sure enough, all
the children had copy books and the boy, “the teacher” was giving them
assignments and then one by one they would come to him for corrections. All
but one of the “pupils” was too young to have gone to school so I have no idea
what he had them do in their copy books but he looked very fierce making the
corrections.
center, including the custodian’s son. Ramzi told me that they are not selected
by talent as much as by interest. The children of the old city have a very
proprietary look about them when they come into the center. Celine always
smiles and listens to their questions and laughs. One day as I was drinking
coffee in the morning I noticed from the window a group of very small children
in the little courtyard across the street sitting all lined up on a bench across from
an older boy. It looked like a school so I watched for a while. Sure enough, all
the children had copy books and the boy, “the teacher” was giving them
assignments and then one by one they would come to him for corrections. All
but one of the “pupils” was too young to have gone to school so I have no idea
what he had them do in their copy books but he looked very fierce making the
corrections.
All things being equal the boy, 7 or 8 years old, would have enough school in his
life not to want to recreate it at home, but after six months of no school?
One evening I asked my American friend Katie and her co worker Jody from
Belgium to explain the school closings to me. They are working on a food
availability study for some group funded by the UN, and both have advanced
degrees in Human Rights. Since January and only in Palestine, they told me,
education has been separated out of the humanitarian aid package. This hasn’t
happened anywhere else. “Well, where is it not separated out?” I needed some
examples. “OK, Afghanistan, Darfur, Kosavo, Iraq before the war.
Everywhere. It’s never happened before. “Who’s doing it?”
life not to want to recreate it at home, but after six months of no school?
One evening I asked my American friend Katie and her co worker Jody from
Belgium to explain the school closings to me. They are working on a food
availability study for some group funded by the UN, and both have advanced
degrees in Human Rights. Since January and only in Palestine, they told me,
education has been separated out of the humanitarian aid package. This hasn’t
happened anywhere else. “Well, where is it not separated out?” I needed some
examples. “OK, Afghanistan, Darfur, Kosavo, Iraq before the war.
Everywhere. It’s never happened before. “Who’s doing it?”
“The entire donor community; the US, all the Europeans. “Why?”. I couldn’t help
asking. “It’s political but it’s not supposed to be. Education is a basic human right
everywhere else but not here.” I wish more Americans knew what our government
is doing to children like Saef in our name.
I played 33 performances in 21 days. Two Bach Suites, three stories in Arabic,
The Fauré Elegy and Vocalise by Rachmaninov with the pianist Nadia Aboushi and
almost an hour of Arabic and Turkish music with Ramzi playing bazouc and viola,
Tareq Rantissi, percussion, Mohamed Quttati, accordian and Mohammed Nijem,
clarinet.
asking. “It’s political but it’s not supposed to be. Education is a basic human right
everywhere else but not here.” I wish more Americans knew what our government
is doing to children like Saef in our name.
I played 33 performances in 21 days. Two Bach Suites, three stories in Arabic,
The Fauré Elegy and Vocalise by Rachmaninov with the pianist Nadia Aboushi and
almost an hour of Arabic and Turkish music with Ramzi playing bazouc and viola,
Tareq Rantissi, percussion, Mohamed Quttati, accordian and Mohammed Nijem,
clarinet.
Playing with Nadia was wonderful. I’ve known her now for 10 or 12 years. She
is a sensitive and cultured person, and a fine pianist. The Arabic music has
gotten under my skin. The four musicians I played with are probably the finest
young players of traditional music in Palestine. It was stimulating and exciting I
began to find my voice in the improvisation, inspired by what I heard around
me. But the heart and soul of what I did was playing for children. I did 26
concerts for children in three private school and 5 refugee camps. The irony is
that schools in the camps are funded by the UN Refugee Agency and not The
Palestinian Authority so they are still open. I was partnered with Saed an Affable
volunteer and Oud player at the Kamanjati center and a student of media at
Birzeit University. He would introduce me and I would play the Prelude to the
First Suite.
is a sensitive and cultured person, and a fine pianist. The Arabic music has
gotten under my skin. The four musicians I played with are probably the finest
young players of traditional music in Palestine. It was stimulating and exciting I
began to find my voice in the improvisation, inspired by what I heard around
me. But the heart and soul of what I did was playing for children. I did 26
concerts for children in three private school and 5 refugee camps. The irony is
that schools in the camps are funded by the UN Refugee Agency and not The
Palestinian Authority so they are still open. I was partnered with Saed an Affable
volunteer and Oud player at the Kamanjati center and a student of media at
Birzeit University. He would introduce me and I would play the Prelude to the
First Suite.
“This music I’ m playing is 300 years old. “ Saed would translate but the children
would listen to the sound of my voice. “By the greatest musician who ever lived,
Johann, Sebastian, Bach”, drawing out the name. “He wrote music for people to
dance to. While you listen to this next one you can imagine people dancing” I
would play the Courante. “This next one is very slow and very beautiful. When I
play it, it makes me feel something.” I touch my chest. “While you’re listening,
think about how it makes you feel. It’s different for every person. Maybe it brings
you a memory, or a picture.” I would play the Sarabande to absolute silence and
then listen to the things the children had thought of. “This one is very happy and
very fast. The Bass is so big that my hand has to travel great distances”. After the
Gigue I would tell the story of the day my turtle ran away.
would listen to the sound of my voice. “By the greatest musician who ever lived,
Johann, Sebastian, Bach”, drawing out the name. “He wrote music for people to
dance to. While you listen to this next one you can imagine people dancing” I
would play the Courante. “This next one is very slow and very beautiful. When I
play it, it makes me feel something.” I touch my chest. “While you’re listening,
think about how it makes you feel. It’s different for every person. Maybe it brings
you a memory, or a picture.” I would play the Sarabande to absolute silence and
then listen to the things the children had thought of. “This one is very happy and
very fast. The Bass is so big that my hand has to travel great distances”. After the
Gigue I would tell the story of the day my turtle ran away.
It doesn’t get silly until the end when I sing goodbye to the long gone reptile. Giggles and
laughter when I fall on my knees singing “Since I don’t have you” in falsetto. Then Saed and
I would play a couple of Arabic songs for them to clap and sing along to. At this point if it
was a boys school, pandemonium would ensue. The effort and concentration of the silence
gone as they shouted and clapped. Less for the girls, but still loud and unrestrained. It was
while thinking about that amazing silent listening that I realized what it is that I’m doing, not
only in Palestine but also in prisons and wherever I’m performing. It’s about the silence. I
thought it was the Bach. Well, what better music to be your first experience of silent
listening? Or the funny stories. Sure laughter is good but listening to stories is also listening
in silence. Or the sound of the bass. What better instrument, by it’s size and presence, to
command attention? Sure all of those things, but the real gift is a chance to listen to music in
silence, and that is a powerful experience. Of course there is music everywhere in Palestine,
in the taxis and busses, on the radio and TV. At weddings the sound is deafening. It’s the
same as here , but you can’t get the experience if you’re talking or reading or doing
homework or if it’s surrounded by the clutter of noise in daily life. No, listening to music in
silence is a completely different experience and can be life changing.
laughter when I fall on my knees singing “Since I don’t have you” in falsetto. Then Saed and
I would play a couple of Arabic songs for them to clap and sing along to. At this point if it
was a boys school, pandemonium would ensue. The effort and concentration of the silence
gone as they shouted and clapped. Less for the girls, but still loud and unrestrained. It was
while thinking about that amazing silent listening that I realized what it is that I’m doing, not
only in Palestine but also in prisons and wherever I’m performing. It’s about the silence. I
thought it was the Bach. Well, what better music to be your first experience of silent
listening? Or the funny stories. Sure laughter is good but listening to stories is also listening
in silence. Or the sound of the bass. What better instrument, by it’s size and presence, to
command attention? Sure all of those things, but the real gift is a chance to listen to music in
silence, and that is a powerful experience. Of course there is music everywhere in Palestine,
in the taxis and busses, on the radio and TV. At weddings the sound is deafening. It’s the
same as here , but you can’t get the experience if you’re talking or reading or doing
homework or if it’s surrounded by the clutter of noise in daily life. No, listening to music in
silence is a completely different experience and can be life changing.
One of the great things about going back to a place where I had spent a lot of time
was that I got to perform again for some of the same kids. On my second day of
concerts, I returned to the youth center at Qualandia camp. As I entered, some
older boys 13 ,14 years old who I recognized, fought to carry my stool and bag.
As I set up they kept asking if I needed anything. When I was ready I asked how
many had heard me last year. Two thirds. I told them that last year I had played
the second suite and this year the first, but they didn’t need any explanation there
was immediate silence. They already knew how to do this. I asked if anyone
remembered my story from last year. Yes, the beaver and the tree.
On my last night we played on the roof of the Al Kamandjati center. There is a half
shell of copper and the back wall is of stone so the sound is very good. It was a
very warm evening for the end of September and we had a good crowd. Nadia and
I played the Fauré and then I told of the turtle and then we played lots of Arabic
music and ended with the two songs that Saed and I had sung for kids. In front of
the audience sitting on carpets was half of the neighborhood children. They knew
perfectly what listening to music in silence was . They come to all the concerts
here. Afterwards there were special drinks and sweets for Ramadan, and then
Ramzi and the band and Saed and Celine and many of the Barenboim teachers and
my old friend Kamal, the driver from last year, all went to a restaurant and they all
waited up for me to meet my driver at 3AM to go to the airport.
was that I got to perform again for some of the same kids. On my second day of
concerts, I returned to the youth center at Qualandia camp. As I entered, some
older boys 13 ,14 years old who I recognized, fought to carry my stool and bag.
As I set up they kept asking if I needed anything. When I was ready I asked how
many had heard me last year. Two thirds. I told them that last year I had played
the second suite and this year the first, but they didn’t need any explanation there
was immediate silence. They already knew how to do this. I asked if anyone
remembered my story from last year. Yes, the beaver and the tree.
On my last night we played on the roof of the Al Kamandjati center. There is a half
shell of copper and the back wall is of stone so the sound is very good. It was a
very warm evening for the end of September and we had a good crowd. Nadia and
I played the Fauré and then I told of the turtle and then we played lots of Arabic
music and ended with the two songs that Saed and I had sung for kids. In front of
the audience sitting on carpets was half of the neighborhood children. They knew
perfectly what listening to music in silence was . They come to all the concerts
here. Afterwards there were special drinks and sweets for Ramadan, and then
Ramzi and the band and Saed and Celine and many of the Barenboim teachers and
my old friend Kamal, the driver from last year, all went to a restaurant and they all
waited up for me to meet my driver at 3AM to go to the airport.
In a country that isn’t a country, where schools are closed, the government is
bankrupt, where you can’t travel anywhere without going through hostile military
checkpoints and where on both sides of the separation wall innocent people, Israelis
and Palestinians, are regularly being killed, you would think that all this would
dominate everything. You wonder how anyone survives both financially and
emotionally. How is it that everyone acts so normal? It seems the reality is that for
most people, most of the time, it’s just part of the stuff of life that you just have to
deal with. It’s not so much courage as pragmatism. But you have to be there to see
it. I’m glad I was.
I’m happy to report that music is doing well and doing good in Palestine.
Dobbs
bankrupt, where you can’t travel anywhere without going through hostile military
checkpoints and where on both sides of the separation wall innocent people, Israelis
and Palestinians, are regularly being killed, you would think that all this would
dominate everything. You wonder how anyone survives both financially and
emotionally. How is it that everyone acts so normal? It seems the reality is that for
most people, most of the time, it’s just part of the stuff of life that you just have to
deal with. It’s not so much courage as pragmatism. But you have to be there to see
it. I’m glad I was.
I’m happy to report that music is doing well and doing good in Palestine.
Dobbs
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