The second day of the program was a success. I bought replacement SD cards for the cameras so we had seven cameras to use for 14 youth. I supervised them while they shot around Mukhayim Kalandia (Kalandia camp). They were shy at first, the girls walking in a single line, arms linked and giggling. The boys sauntered ahead smirking and smacking each other periodically. I hung back with the girls, talking in broken Arabic about the weather (too hot), my clothing (too thick), and prompting them to take photos. We walked along the main road like this for a few minutes under the beating sun.
When we neared the mosque, I pointed out the mosque for the day’s exercise. “I’m taking a photo of the minaret,” I began, “because I think it’s a beautiful piece of architecture, it’s a gathering place for the community, and every time I see this one in particular, I know that I am back in Kalandia- it’s like a guiding light.” Heads nodded and 14 pairs of eyes focused on me as I snapped a few photos from various angles.
Past the mosque, the streets narrowed, cut into side paths, and became overshadowed by the cement walls of the over hanging homes. The kids began to take photos. We visited the cemetery, viewed the encroaching Jewish settlement, and looped back after passing the small convenience store.
Challenges
The kids are engaged and attentive. They are adaptable and consistently craving opportunities to learn. I am so lucky to have such a dynamic group. They are also like a community- they communicate effectively and work well as a team. But only with their own gender. The boys stay with the boys, the girls stay with the girls.
The down-sides are obvious: it’s difficult to create a cohesive final project when the division in the program’s participants is hindering learning and creativity.
Another challenge is finding the right balance between controlling the kids and letting freedom and creativity reign. Two of the boys love taking photos so much that they rarely give their camera partner a chance to shoot. Other kids are competitive, shoving others out of the way to get the perfect angle. Others have a tendency to run off into the distance to get unique shots of crumbling buildings and curious children in the camp. This makes it difficult to say no, khalas. You can sense the drive in these youth, but you also need to know where to draw the thick red line. I take cues from the youth centre staff when it comes to these matters.
The kids here are the same as anywhere else in the world: bright, creative, disarming with their smiles and open eyes…but they are also much different, especially from youth in the West. These kids are refugees and have grown up with little security, constant violence from military incursions, and little opportunity to learn and grow. Their playing places are limited: there are no parks in Kalandia. There are no playgrounds here. There is only one youth centre with little staff and not enough supplies. There is little greenery- space is limited and is used for building homes for the expanding population.
Daily, I can’t help but think about their situation and marvel at their resilience. They confront the problems in the camp head-on: the trash, the low sanitation, the lack of water, the absence of opportunity, the grey desolate nature of a refugee camp.
As we walked around on this second day, one of the girls, Wesam, hung back. Her arms were crossed and her head hung low. I put my hand on her shoulder, asking what was up. “I have never been to this part of the refugee camp before,” she said, “I have never actually looked at all of this trash. We live in trash.” She looked into my eyes briefly before turning her head forward again. We began to slowly walk towards the rest of the boisterous group together.
