Playgrounds for Palestine: Seeds of the Wind
Patrick Durek
Susan Abulhawa

    13th century mystic Jalal ad-Din Rumi wrote,“Only from the heart can you touch the sky.”  Playgrounds for Palestine’s
    ethos is steeped in similar sentiment. It’s mission statement, featured on the homepage of its Web site,
    playgroundsforpalestine.org reads:

    “This project is an expression of solidarity with the plight of Palestinian children. It is an affirmation of their right to
    childhood. It is a minimal recognition of their humanity. It is an act of love.”

    Somewhere in Hebron, somewhere in Beit Anan, somewhere in Khan Younis, Nablus, Rafah, or Bethlehem a child
    sees a playground. She yearns to slide down the slide, swing in the swing, dangle on the monkey-bars. As she
    approaches, it does not disappear. She smells the flowers that locals have planted, she sees the bright red of the
    slide, the deep green of the supporting poles, the white of the monkey bars, the black of the standing platform. She
    walks up, climbs the ladder, and slides down the small slide, the wind blowing through her hair. Her feet spring upon
    the soil of her ancestors. She laughs, jumps up and moves on to the bigger slide.

As a young girl, Susan Abulhawa yearned to play on the playgrounds that beckoned on the horizon, to slide down the slide,
swing in the swing, dangle on the monkey-bars. But she could not. Despite being a fully-formed, healthy child, despite
possessing a desire to join the other children in juvenile frolic, the playgrounds were off limits. The slide, swing and
monkey-bars flashed as real but fizzled as a chimera. For a Palestinian girl was simply not allowed to play on an Israeli
playground. So she didn't.

Born in Kuwait to Palestinian refugees made homeless after the Six Day War of 1967, Abulhawa, whose ancestors lived for
six generations on Mt. Olive, East Jerusalem, was the first in her lineage not to be born in Palestine. Unable to live on her
ancestral soil, she lived for a time in Kuwait, for a time in Jordan, and for a time in occupied East Jerusalem. “Perpetually
trying to find the place of belonging,” she wrote for Media Matters Network, in 2001, “by the time I was 16 years old, I had
lived in eleven different places, across four different countries, only two of those years with my parents.” Abul-Hawa, which
in Arabic means “Father of the Wind,” began to feel like Ya-Bint-Al-Hawa, or “Daughter of the Wind.” “It is as though my
name became a self-fulfilling prophecy,” she wrote.

But scattered seeds in the wind is the nature of diaspora, from the Armenians to the Assyrians, and now the Palestinians.
The cruel reality is that many of those “seeds” do not survive dislocation and those that do spend a lifetime yearning for
their motherland, fantasizing about the return, about replanting roots in native soil. Sometimes, in trying to cope with pain
people will engage in what psychologists call reaction formation (where one behaves in a way that is diametrically opposite
to one’s true impulse).

For a time, Susan Abulhawa attempted to start anew. Late in adolescence, she found herself in the United States, where
she soon began studying biomedical science at the University of South Carolina. A Masters degree later, an embarkation on
a lucrative career in the medical field commenced and things appeared optimistic.
Copyright © 2008 AMAANY Magazine, All Rights Reserved.
Send your comments and questions regarding this article to: womensleadership@amaany.org.
Photo Credits:
Patrick Durek, Playgrounds for Palestine,
Picasaweb
Patrick Durek is a journalist who lives in central New Jersey. He has written for The Home News Tribune; Desi NJ (Indian-American newspaper); Guitar Review;
IAWM (International Alliance for Women in Music) Journal; Classical Guitar Magazine; and Sequenza21. In addition to being a writer he is also a classical
guitarist. An alumnus of Johns Hopkins University, Mr. Durek, who is of Eastern European descent, believes that conscientious journalism is an essential
vehicle for addressing and overcoming racial and religious stereotyping.He is honored to write for AMAANY Magazine, which is a unique voice that aspires in part,
to introduce the diversity of individuals in the Muslim world to people of all backgrounds.

“When I went back, I was really struck by how much that mentality–the one that allows some people on the playground and others not–had become entrenched
and how much it had actually grown,” Abulhawa told me. “And I was also struck by the level of poverty and the lack of play areas. I wanted to do something. I
wanted to build schools and build libraries and music studios and I still want to do those things but I wanted to start with something manageable. So, I thought
of playgrounds. I came back, borrowed the money and incorporated it.” Playgrounds for Palestine, Inc., a non-profit organization devoted to building playgrounds
for Palestinian children, was born.

The playgrounds themselves are usually purchased as “photo units,” or pre-designed discounted sets, and are U.S.-made because, as Abulhawa said, “there is
nothing comparable there in terms of durability and safety.” However, she added, “we're working this summer with local [Palestinian] manufacturers to develop a
prototype.” As for the actual assembling, it is Palestinians who do the bulk of the work, a combination of paid and volunteer labor. To ensure safety for the
children, playgrounds are strategically placed in safe Palestinian zones surrounded by buildings, so as to avoid Israeli sniper fire.

When asked about community response to Playgrounds for Palestine, Abulhawa noted the overwhelming enthusiasm of the Palestinian communities: “The people
are always extremely grateful. We built a little playground in Rafah and within a year and a half, the community had planted a beautiful garden around it. They
planted grass and trees, they added benches. It is always populated by moms and kids.”

Any negative responses? I asked. “Like any project that helps Palestinians in any way, we've received ugly and racist responses from some that aren't worth
repeating,” she said. But most of the feedback has been encouraging and positive. “There are far more people who believe in this project and the right of all
children to play.”

To date, Playgrounds for Palestine has built nearly a dozen playgrounds in Palestine, with two scheduled to be built in Lebanon later this summer. There is also a
Gaza architecture design competition, temporarily on hold due to desperate conditions instigated by occupying forces. The contest, in conjunction with ANERA
(American Near East Refugee Aid) and the Islamic University in Gaza (IUG), will award the winning student with both a monetary gift and the privilege of
overseeing the construction of their playground.

Though many charities, like any business, fail, Playgrounds for Palestine must be deemed a success. But while recreation areas are essential to all communities,
particularly for people without a homeland, and while providing children with an opportunity to frolic and play and have a taste of "normality" is an imperative first
step, true justice can only be realized if the West, led by the United States, engages in a campaign toward two goals: restoring rights to Palestinians living in
Israel and establishing an independent homeland of Palestine. As Jimmy Carter wrote in his recent book, "Palestine Peace Not Apartheid," "There will be no
substantive and permanent peace for any peoples in this troubled region as long as Israel is violating key UN resolutions, official American policy and the
international 'road map' for peace by occupying Arab lands and oppressing the Palestinians."

One of the first steps every American Presidential candidate takes is to reassure voters of an unquestioning, steely commitment to Israel. Whatever the
candidate’s personal beliefs, he or she feels tremendous pressure to indulge the politics of the Israel lobby; without doing so compromises access to campaign
funds, media sympathy and in the end, votes. Proclaiming support for the Palestinians’ plight is seen as a surefire way to lose big. Therefore, in order for
governmental policy to shift, the paradigm must shift. Abulhawa believes that the first step is to spread the truth: “Americans are dangerously uninformed of the
reality. I believe that if Americans only knew what was really happening with their tax dollars and in their name, they wouldn't stand for it. The struggle is to
educate Americans.”

She emphasized the strength and resolve of Palestinians and the new Web media outlets as two signs of great hope for positive change. “Palestinians are
immensely steadfast and they cling to their roots and family values with fierce determination,” she said. “Thanks to the Internet, concealing the truth has
become harder for Zionists and now we see more and more people waking up to the reality and speaking up. There is a grassroots groundswell gathering and it
includes some well known names now, like Jimmy Carter, Desmond Tutu, Richard Falk, and more...”
Individual success is usually assessed by the successful in two ways. The first is what I will call the Clarence Thomas approach:

Like the ultraconservative African-American Supreme Court justice who harbors a strong animosity toward affirmative action and indeed any law that aids blacks,
this type of successful person attributes all achievements as rewards earned by hard work and perhaps, God’s grace.Nothing is owed to one’s people if they are
less accomplished, for their own demise is the result of their own choices, so the reasoning goes.

The other way that individual success is assessed I will call the John Lennon approach: After achieving astronomic fame, the former Beatle, rather than turning
back on his working class roots, embraced them. He vocally criticized the bourgeoisie and the conservative governments he lived under, writing songs like “Power
to the People,” which inspired the oppressed and supported the IRA (Irish Republican Army), who were at the time, fighting the English for control of North
Ireland.

Susan Abulhawa, a successful individual with a burning desire to help the less fortunate, falls into the “Lennon” camp.

A trip to Palestine in 2001, after almost two decades in exile, reminded her of the people from whom she had been separated, people who by choice or by default
were confined to a shadow of a country they once knew, who had mirages of the olive trees they once cultivated, envisioned invisible homes that they once
resided in, pictured another country which was once their own. She saw children banished from the same playgrounds she once dreamt of playing in and now
things were even worse.