Remembering Juliano Mer-Khamis

Yesterday, Juliano Mer-Khamis was murdered in Jenin just outside the entrance to The Freedom Theatre. He was holding his infant son while sitting in the front seat of his car, with his babysitter the passenger seat. A masked gunman shot him, and he died instantly. The photos showed pools of blood on the ground next to a red car with the door ajar. News reports showed the ambulance stretcher carting his body away, his face paled by death.

I first heard of Juliano Mer-Khamis last year when someone recommended his documentary Arna's Children to me. I purchased a copy of the DVD at an East Jerusalem bookstore, and soon watched it upon my return to Canada. I was deeply impacted by the documentary, which chronicles the work of a Jewish-Israeli female human rights and peace activist, Arna Mer-Khamis (Juliano's mother), who builds a children's theater (The Freedom Theatre) in the West Bank city of Jenin. The film shows the power that art has to help children literally and metaphorically express the frustration, anger, bitterness, and fear they feel while living under occupation and war in the West Bank. I have to watch the film again to retain the exact details, but Juliano Mer-Khamis shows the development of the theatre and follows severeal of the youth from their involvement in the theater to their lives caught up in violence and war. When he visits them years after they ave left the Freedom Theater, one of them committed a suicide attack in Hadera in 2001, another was killed in the battle of Jenin, and another leads a resistance group.

Juliano Mer-Khamis's enthusiam for the principles of the Freedom Theatre that his mother founded was obvious throughout the film. He took up the general operation of the Freedom Theatre when his mother died in 1994, and lived locally in Jenin.

Despite the many reasons circulating about his murder, it is nevertheless a serious tragedy. The Guardian reported that his murder is an attack on all who strive for justice in the Middle East. For in his life as in his work, he was a living metaphor for Palestinians and Israelis working together. As Amira Hass from Ha'aretz wrote: "Juliano embodied the potential of a shared life (ta'ayush in Arabic) while striving for equality...he was born of two cultures [his mother was Israeli-Jewish and his father was Christian-Palestinian], and chose to live in both. He saw no need to explain." Hass's article mentions how angry Mer-Khamis was about the situation in the West Bank. For him to be angry as an Israeli was acceptable, but as a Palestinian living in the West Bank showing emotion, especially anger, is difficult, because "Palestinians must conquer the anger, mellow it; they must tame it, repress it, sublimate it" or risk getting arrested, wounded, or killed. For Mer-Khamis, The Freedom Theatre was a mechanism to express these intense feelings in a safe way. I believe that was the message he was trying to convey the the children who attended the Theatre. It reminds me of one of my friend's favorite quotes from Stella Adler: "Life beats down and crushes the soul and art reminds you that you have one."

Even though many (myself included) are saddened and even devastated by his death, I am glad to hear that the organizers of The Freedom Theatre will keep it running despite the vacuum that his death leaves behind. I also cannot stop thinking about his wife, who was pregnant with twins, and his infant son. I wonder if acts like this can be transformed into positive over time. I imagine the children of Juliano Mer-Khamis growing up and listening to stories of their father, utilizing their father's passion in their own lives. Who knows how they will live their lives or what they will become. But just as Juliano Mer-Khamis was a representation of ta'ayush, so then are Juliano's children.

"The Power of Place" on CKUT Radio's Caravan

I had the pleasure of being invited to speak on CKUT's radio program "Caravan", which is a show focusing on community news for Arabs and Muslims in Montreal. I was interviewed by the extremely talented and amazing Rana Alrabi, and we talked about the importance of place for Palestinians, what it means to be a (neutral?) researcher tackling difficult issues, and how research serves as a tool to empower marginalized communities and demystify "the other". Take a listen here, just click on today's date (23 February 2011). I speak from around 33:00-53:00. Please let me know what you think.

Montreal Dialogue Group

This evening, I presented my research to the Montreal Dialogue Group at the Westmount Y. The Montreal Dialogue Group is a group of individuals from all walks of life who come together to promote dialogue about issues related to Israel and Palestine. The MDG's promotional materials state: "From it's beginnings, the Dialogue Group has aimed to provide a space for personal story and exchange between individuals rather than for politics and official position-taking." This approach was extremely refreshing to me, and I found my presentation to be received with an open-mindedness and curiosity that is necessary for quality dialogue.

The MDG is a model for open communication and the sharing of ideas. It was a pleasure to spend time with such a positive group of people that seeks to increase their knowledge about the situation in Israel and Palestine, and ultimately contribute to ideas about how to work towards a solution to ending the conflict that wreaks that region.

What About Egypt's Children?

While watching the revolution sweep across north Africa, I couldn't help but ask myself, "Where are the children, what is their role in these historical events, and how are they being affected?" A quick Google search using the words Egypt and children led me to Robert Fisk's article in The Independent, describing how children have been treated under Mubarak's regime, and their role in the current revolution.

Fisk's article focuses on Egypt's 50,000 street children, though not surprisingly government statistics put the number at around 5,000. Interviews with children on February 12th revealed that "Mubarak supporters deliberately brought children to the outskirts of Tahrir Square to throw stones at the pro-democracy supporters, how they persuaded penniless street children to participate in their pro-Mubarak marches." Saida Zeinab, an Egyptian doctor, stated: "They were told it was their duty - a national patriotic act - to throw stones at the demonstrators, to do violent actions." Children were hit with rubber bullets, and at least 12 were taken to hospital with wounds from police weapons. Several children were shot dead.

On the other hand, children also had a role in positive community-building activities, with UNICEF reporting that people of all ages (including children) formed citizens' groups in order to protect their neighborhoods until the armed forces could establish order.

Peace for One Night in Bethlehem

Bethlehem was just another Palestinian village until the day that Jesus was born. It wasn't until around 300 AD that the prophetic message that Jesus was born became a religious movement, and Bethlehem quickly became a prosperous and fortified city, as well as a popular place for religious pilgrims, with many churches and monastaries built in the area. In the Crusader times (1099-1187 and 1228-1144), kings were crowned in Bethlehem as a symbolic connection to the birthplace of Jesus, and it was promoted as the seat of many religious parishes, including Episcopal and Roman Catholic communities.

Confronted by the injustices of the British colonial system as well as the Zionist threat in the first half of the 1900s, residents of Bethlehem firmly supported the cause of Palestinian nationalism. In the 1920s and 1930s, Palestinians in Bethlehem mounted several public campaigns against the British law that repealed citizenship of Palestinians but granted citizenship to Jewish immigrants. In response, Britain cracked down hard on representatives of Bethlehem. For example, in 1938, the mayor of Bethlehem, Issa Bandak, was deported by the British occupation authorities after his outspoken criticism of the British occupation. Much as Bethlehem housed Joseph, Mary, and the newborn Jesus, Bethlehem subsequently became a sanctuary for countless Palestinian refugees expelled from their villages. According to the Alternative Tourism Group (2008), population figures rose from 9,000 to nearly 20,000, while an additional 40,000 refugees stayed temporarily in Bethlehem on their way to exile in the West Bank, Jordan, or other Arab states.

I visited Bethlehem in May 2010. Today, the Bethlehem district constitutes the towns of Beit Sahour to the east and Beit Jala to the west, as well as three refugee camps (Aida, Beit Jibrin or 'Azza, and Deheisheh) to total 76,000 people. Dominated by minarets and bell towers, the city affirms its religious diversity: it has a Muslim majority (67%) and a strong Christian minority (33%). Almost every Christian community is represented: Greek Orthodox, Roman Catholic, Armenian, Lutheran and Syrian, all sharing the same Arab-Palestinian culture.

Nevertheless, there is much in-fighting between the various Christian groups over control of various religious sites in Bethlehem. For example, despite being a place sacred to all Christians, the Grotto of the Nativity (see photo at left) - marking the exact place of Jesus's birth - has been the object of bitter dispute between the Christian communities. In 1847, the star was stolen, and the Sultan in Istanbul was asked to arbitrate: he chose to freeze the controversy with a status quo, which pleased no one, neither France, as "the custodian of holy places, nor Tsarist Russia, as protector of all Orthodox subjects in the Ottoman empire. Finally, the star was replaced with a copy. However, prolonged disagreement over custody of these holy places served as pretext for hostilities between the great imperialist powers leading to the Crimean War of 1853-1856, with England, France, and Turkey opposing Russia. Even today, there is a complicated and detailed plan of ownership of particular places and hours for certain religious celebrations and feasts. If one religious community fails to honor another 's plan, for instance by walking down the wrong staircase at an inopportune time, then this is cause for shutting down a whole section of Bethlehem in order to rectify the situation.

The hopeful news is that Bethlehem is celebrating its merriest Christmas in years, according to this story from NPR. Mild weather, a booming economy, and thriving tourism (see photo at left) are all helping to bring holiday cheer to the West Bank town. Christian tourists, Palestinian Christians, and even Palestinian Muslims from Bethlehem's refugee camps prayed side-by-side on Christmas Eve. One woman from the camp said, "Because of the hard situation and the pressure we are living in, we take advantage of any joyful moment and bring our children to play."

It's promising to see peace in the little town of Bethlehem for even one night. But let us not forget the wall that continues to surround Bethlehem (as well as the rest of the West Bank and Gaza), the growing number of illegal Israeli settlements that are being built and are eating away at Palestinian land, the failure of peaceful negotiations between the leaders of the region, and the reality that after celebrating side-by-side with people of all faiths, many Palestinian families must return to refugee camps rather than to their rightful homes.

(separation barrier near Aida Refugee Camp, Bethlehem)

The Art Star and the Sudanese Twins

The Art Star and the Sudanese Twins is an award-winning documentary by New Zealand filmmaker Pietra Brettkelly about contemporary artist, Vanessa Beecroft's relentless attempt to adopt baby twins from Sudan. Beecroft is a world-famous artist, most famous for her live tableaus of nude women standing motionless in empty art galleries. The film delves into Beecroft's professional life, borrowing an a brilliant artistic appeal and well-edited style. But Beecroft's career is only the backdrop to the more disturbing main element of the film, which was her obsession with "having/getting" these two Sudanese babies.

Beecroft explains that she visited Sudan and met Madit and Mongor Akot, who were left by their impoverished father to the care of the local village. Beecroft understood this as abandonment, and after breastfeeding the children herself, decided that it was her responsibility to adopt the children. As a Sudanese official explains, Sudan does not have official adoption laws; if a child is left parentless, then the next of kin is contacted and the community takes responsibility for the care of the child. This is common practice throughout many African societies. This doesn't deter Beecroft, and she goes to great lengths to convince lawyers, officials, friends, and family that what she is doing is noble and in the best interests of the twins.

One of the main themes of the film is that Beecroft's social anthropologist husband is completely unaware of her adoption plans. When her lawyers ask her repeatedly if her husband is "on-board" with the plan, (because the adoption cannot proceed without him), Beecroft insists that he is. When she determines that her husband might be a hindrance to her plan, she considers divorce.

Beecroft explains that her desire to adopt the twins is “not just fetishization of the blacks. It will be a beginning of a relationship with that country.” But her actions throughout the movie consistently contradict those words, as Sudan, its people and its children are consistently objectified by Beecroft.



In one of the more revealing scenes, Beecroft is photographing the unclothed infant twins in a chapel for one of her many Sudanese-themed art projects. One of the Sudanese women enters the chapel rightly complaining that it is not right for foreigners to be photographing naked Sudanese children, especially in the chapel. Beecroft has a physical confrontation with the woman, trying so much to continue photographing the children. When the Sudanese women takes the twins away, Beecroft collapses against a barricaded door, mumbling, "These people."

When the father of the twins expresses doubts that consenting to adoption is the right thing, he tells Beecroft (through a translator) that his community and family are worried that these Sudanese children will be taken away and never understand who they are or where they come from. Beecroft quickly responds that she will connect with the Sudanese communities where she lives in New York and visit Sudan with the twins when they grow up. But since she has thus far not made attempts to learn the language or understand the culture, it is unlikely that this will happen.

I believe that Beecroft believes that what she is doing is in the best interests of Madit and Mongor. However, she is unable to that these children may do very well living in their communities, raised by extended family. Beecroft's vision of child well-being is warped by her own Western perspectives of childhood as well as a desire to possess these children and incorporate them into her future artwork. She is also an egoist, comparing herself to the likes of Angelina Jolie and Madonna in her attempts at adoption.

I am not against international adoption, but I am against Westerners believing that they can come in and correct a situation simply because they have the means. As one of the priests that Beecroft seeks (and ignores) advice from says, taking the children away from Africa drains the human capital. These children are needed in their countries to build up their communities/countries and make them strong.

The one redeeming scene was when Beecroft makes a final visit to the village of Madit and Mongor. Tears of joy overcome her as she is welcomed into the community. She sees the twins and then says good-bye.

When Lost Boys Grow Up

On January 9th, 2011, Southern Sudan will vote in a referendum to decide if they will split from the north and form their own country. This will not only slightly remap the African continent, but also draw to a close a 50-year liberation struggle in which the Christian south mostly fought against the Arab north. One of the consequences of this long conflict were the Lost Boys of Sudan, more than 27,000 boys of Nuer and Dinka ethnic groups who were displaced and/or orphaned during the Sudanese Civil War. About 4,000 were resettled in the United States.

Jeffrey Gettleman's article in this weekend's New York Times chronicle's one Lost Boy's - Joseph Gatyoung Khan - homecoming to his village to participate in the Southern Sudan referendum. After leaving his village at the age of 8, Khan was settled in the United States, working his way from the midnight shift at a casino to a university education at the University of Iowa. He hasn't seen his parents in over 20 years. The following video from The New York Times, shows Khan returning to his village and the mixed emotions he feels upon his arrival.



What I find most interesting is when he says that the world doesn't need him, but his village does need him. I wonder what Khan will be able to do for his village if, indeed, he decides to stay. There are so many valuable human resources that leave villages like Khan's because of war and conflict and poverty. Imagine what great things they can do once they return.

Khan has not yet decided if he will stay in Southern Sudan.