cb magazine vol. 9 ed. 37

28 journalists on a personal journey into unknown territory

reflectionsinside the

conflict zone

EgyptIsrael

YemenDenmarkPalestine

Jordan

cb magazine vol. 9 edition no. 37

CB advisory BoardProf. Munther Dajani (Chair Person), Mr. Herbert Pundik, Ms. Else Hammerich, Ms. Lotte Lund, Mr. Hanna Siniora, Mr. Jakob Erle, Mr. Mossi Raz and Mr. Greg Newbold

executive BoardMs. Anja Gustavsen (Chair), Ms. Rosa Dich (Vice Chair Person), Ms. Britha Mikkelsen, Mr. Jørn Faurschou, Ms. Louise Breum Brekke, Ms. Anne Gyrithe Bonne, Ms. Mette Juel Madsen and Mr. Peter Andreas Breds-dorff, Mr. Asbjoern Petersen, Ms. Rikke Mikkelsen

executive secretariatMr. Garba Diallo (Director), Mrs. Nina Brinck (Chief Fi-nancial Officer) and Ms. Farhiya Khalid (Project Intern)

Contact usCrossing Borders, Krogerup Højskole Højskolevej 9, 3050 Humlebæk, Denmark tel +45 49213371 web www.crossingborder.org e-mail [email protected]

Crossing Borders partner organizationsisrael Givat Haviva palestine Peace and Democracy Forum jordan Masar Centre Germany Dialogue Lab Finland The Finnish Institute In The Middle East

palestinian CoordinatorMs. Suheir Hashimeh tel +972 544292574 e-mail [email protected]

israeli CoordinatorMs. Dorit Maor tel +972 544901415 e-mail [email protected]

jordanian CoordinatorMr. Khaled Shorman tel +962 65858748 e-mail [email protected]

egyptian CoordinatorMs. Marianne Nagy Tel +20 180 21 5331 E-mail [email protected]

editor-in-Chief/Danish CoordinatorMs. Anja Gustavsen e-mail [email protected]

language editorShawna Kenney e-mail [email protected]

photographersPatrick Holbek, Andrew Pellett and Peter R. Poulsen

art DirectorMatt Baumgardner e-mail [email protected]

Crossing Borders is a non profit, non governmental organization that provides youth and educators from the Middle East and Europe with dialogue space and media, communication and conflict management skills training. The aim of CB is to increase the possibilities for the world peace with special focus on the ME.

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Fantasy vs. realityNivine Sharaf finds idealism hard to hang on to when faced with harsh reality.

a priceless experienceMohammad Ghazal considers his Crossing Borders experience valuable, thanks to his fellow participants.

when My personal Freedom is offending yoursKatherine Tscheemerinsky takes issue with mainstream co-option of religious garb, while questioning her own comfort zone.

an amazing experienceNidal Rafa reminisces about her August experiences in Denmark.

Finally on FacebookMiki Levy joins an online social network, ultimately finding a safe space for multicultural friendships.

the CornerMuna Samawi waxes poetic about the truth, and losing her luggage in a foreign land.

Back to realityDoron Bar-Gil gets firmly rooted in reality back home in Jerusalem.

Meeting 'Fahriyya'Kholod Massalha learns lots about Yemen from a new friend in the program.

Choose it or lose itQamar Daher finds her friends to be the best mood-altering enhancements.

just another Day at the Beach?Naimah Hussain visits Ramallah and encounters inconvenience, Palestinian-style.

samira the astonishingHakim Bishara experiences a case of mistaken identity in a Berlin bar shortly after his stay in Denmark.

My Good luckMai Koloti chooses to look at the bright side of things, no matter what.

Growing painsThree months have passed since the 28 journalists featured in this magazine last saw one another. Each and every one of them has been back in the well-known, back in their familiar zone. They have been talking to family and friends about meeting the 'other side,' totally different cultures, and, for some, even 'the enemy.' And here, in the quiet aftermath of their first encounter, there has been time to think, reminisce and reflect. In this magazine, the reflections take different forms – of hope, disap-pointment, frustration, enlightenment and despair. The participants of the last CB Media Course felt the confusion, the surprise, the doubt, the joy, the cer-tainty, the power of friendship and the uneasiness of seeing new things, even things that were difficult to understand. This is what dialogue and personal encounters across cultural borders can accomplish – and it is exactly what ’Crossing Borders’ stands for, exactly what this magazine wants to achieve. On the following pages you, dear reader, will experience many conflicting emotions. The journalists have been asked to reflect on their 12 days in Denmark, the place where they met for the first time. When you dive into this magazine, you’ll meet the Israeli who felt her "identity vanishes in the wake of hate and hard words," the Palestinian that believes that humanity and friendship will break down stereo-types and cultural misconception, the Egyptian that realized fear can ruin an otherwise good experience and the Yemini who took a critical look at the Media institutions in his own country, deciding to make a difference. And while you read, it might be interest-

ing to know that all of these 28 courageous people are about to meet again. This time in Aqaba, Jordan – for three more days. We invite you to cross borders with us.

anja Gustavsen, editor-in-chief

this magazine has been produced with the finacial support of the Danish Ministry of Foreign Affairs’ DEMENA Youth Fund through the Danish Development NGO MS and Politi-ken & Jyllands-Postens Fond. The opinions expressed in the articles do not reflect or represent the opinion of the Danish Ministry, MS, Crossing Borders or the partner organisati-ons. The opinions are the sole responsibility of the individu-al writers. We invite you to comment on any of the articles in this magazine by emailing us at [email protected]

5 cb magazine vol. 9 edition no. 37

hey call us terrorists, but we are freedom fighters," said Amal, from beautiful Haifa. "But I'm defending my home. Seven of my friends have

died. I'm afraid to just leave my home and ride the bus," said Matt, also from beauti-ful Haifa. This is not a question of bias but rather of hypersensitivity of a conflict that is so personal. Both sides have been inflicting a continuous pain on each other since the day they were born. Nobody can tell their story for them, either objectively or

subjectively. Journalism is just a word, and media is but a mouthpiece, and any-thing said of a matter so grave, so hurtful will lead to dispute and building walls of defensiveness. The only non-culturally-biased approach to media probably is to give them some peace of mind by re-moving the stress of the conflict, simply by giving them just enough coverage in portraying a more realistic global vision of the world. Currently out of 60 minutes of a generic cable news channels' news coverage, 30 to 35 minutes cover Middle Eastern news, while 15 minutes cover news of countries from the five remaining continents, the 10 minutes that remain is commercial space allotted for advertise-ments. This generally accepted format of international news leaves very little air-time to shed light on other matters, such as famines, diseases, poverty and human rights' issues, The excessive news coverage of the Arab-Israeli conflict and theoretical analysis, year after year, has caused it to evolve into a live story of history and conflict. In our keenness to report the full story by over-

zealously stating events that take place, both Palestinians and Israelis have been dehumanized, which leads to marginal-izing the people who are all victims of this war and ongoing conflict. In their weakness, Israelis and Palestin-ians have come to know media as biased, people as unjust and the world as unfair. Yet media is not the culprit; it is neither the real problem nor can it be a real solution.

Dana Shekem is a 27-year-old Palestinian living in Amman, Jordan. She works as a

journalist at Noorsat Global Satellite Communications Company.

Dear Editor, When I got the new CB Magazine, I almost couldn’t believe it. Are those printed figures and faces ours? Could it be that those two exhausting weeks produced this fascinating product? The answer is yes. Yes, we did it. Reading all the articles brings lots of different feelings. One article made me laugh, another one got me angry and a third one made me sad. There is an unbelievable dissonance in this magazine. On one hand, the colors look great and make it look so refreshing, a fancy maga-zine. On the other hand, there are lots of un-easy texts, full of emotions, sadness, anger and pessimism. It’s hard not to noitce that lots of articles end in a pessimitic way. Some just reconcile with the situation even without accepting it. Some decided to deal with different issuses, as long as it was not the conflict. Are those aritcles contributing in one way or another to bring an end to the conflict? I doubt it. But at least they are proving that all of us, from any background, religious or po-litical point of view, share the same common universal values. I’m still not sure whether we and our children will have the chance to see a general peace and calm in the middle east. But reading this magzine, at least proves to me, that when the peace comes, we’ll be the right people to live together. —Doron Bar-Gil

A Thought from a CB veteranBy Jihan Abdalla Recently the world has been growing tired of reading and listening about world wars, espe-cially the seemingly never-ending one in the Middle East. The world we are in now views information as a choice. And audiences are consciously flipping channels and newspaper pages to entertainment, sports – almost de-liberately away from a tragedy-struck Middle East, from unimaginable natural disasters, and horrid baby poisonings. Young Middle East journalists, those of Crossing Borders included have been trying to carve their names and messages through tight cracks, through channels and newspa-per pages that are ever more intolerant and demanding. This is the challenge. It is not a matter of keeping the world interested in their miseries, view them as victims opposed to ag-gressors, and pity them for their losses. Middle

East journalists ought to gain the legitimacy of their very cause, and the legitimacy of their voice in its midst.

Determined hate or what?Kathrine Tschemerinsky Lund- Kirkeby Excited to see the result of our writings I opened the latest edition of CB Magazine. Reading the articles was like being reunited with old friends and forgotten conversa-tions, but it also infused me with a rage that I had not encountered before, even during my twelve days at Vallekilde. It is especially the close reading of the article ‘Close encounters for the first time’, that made my guts flip twice and my voice raise to a level so that even my own ears were bothered. The author of the article states that he believes that the war between Muslims and Jews will never end, this he states; is because the Prophet Mohammed has said: “the hour will not come to pass until you fight the Jews.” As I understand it this means that the author recognizes the existence of a primordial feud between Muslims and Jews that can never re-ally be resolved? I honestly mourn this determined believing, that leaves out any attempt for atonement. But I also rage because it seems to put out the rea-son for us young people to meet and even try to talk about a future different from what our parents’ generations have created.

Denmark has freedom of speech In the article “land of Cartoons” in the CB magazine vol. 9 edition no 36, Kholod Mas-salha raises the question of freedom of speech for immigrants in Denmark. On the basis of only one interview with a Lebanese immi-grant in Denmark, Kholod concludes that Denmark is a racist country, which discrimi-nates against all immigrants from the Middle East. Also, Kholod claims on the basis of just this one interview, that immigrants in Den-mark do not enjoy the same right to freedom of speech as other Danish citizens. This is not only uncritical journalism. It is also untrue. Freedom of speech means that anyone has the right to publicly express his or her thought in speech or in writing. This is a right that ev-erybody has in Denmark no matter religious, political or national affiliation. This right was certainly exercised both by the Imams and representatives for the more moderate Mus-

lim community after the publication of the Muhammad cartoons. As Kholod mentions, Danish Muslim organizations held public demonstrations to protest against the publi-cations. She somehow overlooks the fact that a public demonstration is also a way to exer-cises freedom of expression. As I see it, the problem is not the lack of free-dom of speech in Denmark, but the lack of tradition among immigrants to make proper use of it. It is the responsibility of all Danish citizens to create a society where everybody feels they are welcome to express their opin-ion in public. —Signe. H. Damkjær

Among the many constructive reflections I found in the latest edition of the Crossing Borders Magazine, I also found some which seem to be built on misconceptions. In the article, Land of cartoons, the journalist mixes her own prejudgments with the experiences of a Lebanese immigrant in Denmark. The result is a misunderstood critique of the Dan-ish principle of freedom of speech. Though many of the points made are valid they have little to do with this principle. The fact that Ekstra Bladet, together with other media and a majority in the Danish Parliament, run a long lasting campaign against Muslim immi-grants does not in itself mean that freedom of speech does not apply to Muslims. It is correct, I believe, to regard the initial publishing of the Muhammad cartoons in Jyllands-Posten as part of the said campaign, but to claim that the freedom of speech as a result of this does not work “the other way” is just plain non-sense. Muslim immigrants are rarely heard in public debate, true, and the reasons for that are many, the two most important probably being the media’s general neglect of minority issues based on the self-understanding of the minorities themselves and the immigrants’ relatively weak position in society. But again, this does not mean that Muslims do not have the right to free speech – by law they do. And a comment to the last paragraph: I wonder how many other immigrants the journalist asked and how the questions were put, since nobody else wanted to give an interview. When I was with a group of eight people from the course we met a lot of immigrants willing to talk to us, both criticizing and praising Denmark.—Bjarke Hartmeyer Christiansen

"Journalism is just a word, and media is but a mouthpiece..."

noteBook oF a wanDerinG journalist

In their weakness,

Israelis and Palestinians have come to know media as biased, people as unjust and the world as unfair

»

LETTERS EDITORtothe

During their August visit to Copenhagen, the 28 journalists visited various media organizations. Pictured is the Danish newspaper, Politiken. Dana Shekem takes the discussion even further in her article below.

"t

cb magazine vol. 9 edition no. 37 cb magazine vol. 9 edition no. 3706

aturday morning: a Twister mat on my floor, a camera full of silly pictures of four happy people, four empty glasses and half a bottle of whisky on my table, a head that is heavy with

deep inspiring conversations, and this slow familiar feeling of undigested fun. What time did they leave? I put on the Israeli singer Shalom Cha-noch, whose soft and pleasant Hebrew voice reminds me of the beauty in the universal and enjoyable language that is music. “That truly is cultural exchange,” I think, and send a grateful thought to my new friend from Ashdod, who does not care much about copyright. The other Danes I met at the Crossing Borders course a few weeks earlier left my apartment at five in the morning. Apart from playing Twister, we had spent the night talking. Talking about Vallekilde, about Palestine, about Israel, Jordan, food, Burquas, Monty Python, conflicts, soap bubbles, war, The Danish Royal family, and religion. We disagreed heavily about it all. And somewhere in the happiness of being together again I felt surprised in re-alizing that I didn’t know them at all. In Vallekilde we were “the Danes.” We were not “the Arabs” or the “Israelis.” Last night we were not “the Danes” anymore. We were three individuals with different opinions. I left Vallekilde with a notebook full of international phone numbers in my

pocket, Shalom Chanoch songs in my iPod and mixed emotions in my heart. Most dominant was the feeling of letting go. Letting go of the frustration, which had accompanied me since the first day of the course. Frustration about knowing, that no matter how much I study, I will never fully be able to grasp the conflict in the Middle East. I will never completely understand what it means to have your childhood, your youth, family, future plans and your entire world wrapped in war and coiled in conflict. All I wanted that day was to get back to Copenhagen and to never again think about the Mid-dle East. And maybe most of all, I was frustrated about the fact that I could not do that. Soon I will be in Jordan. Before that I have to make sense of Vallekilde. I have to understand what my role will be both as a Dane and as an individual. “Your role could be to see the conflict from both sides. To somehow mediate and to be neutral. To represent the West.” These were some of the things said to me in the course’s final discussion. But I cannot do that. Is it ever possible to be neutral? Does neutral mean that I am not entitled to have an opinion? How can I represent the West, which also includes the UK, France and the USA? And in

the empty whisky glasses of my country mates, I see that my opinions do not even represent Denmark. I can only speak for myself, just as we cannot judge the Israeli students for the decisions of the Israeli government, or the Palestinian students for the actions of Hamas. We are not countries or nations. We are human beings. Not only are we entitled to have our own opinion, but we are obliged to have one. We are obliged to participate in and derive meaning from discussions, from newspapers, re-ports and personal interaction. Obliged because of our roles as journalists, as participants in the course in Vallekilde. Obliged as citizens in a globalized world.

I realize now why I cannot just let go of the Middle East. It is because I want to participate in this world. Not as a Dane, but as a human being. I want this because of a notebook full of foreign addresses and invitations. The soundtrack of beau-tiful memories from Vallekilde does not require the knowledge of a language. I go to the kitchen and turn on the water…to wash the glasses – not my hands.

Signe H. Damkjær is a 27-year-old Dane. She is studying journalism at the Danish

University RUC.

s"I left Vallekilde with a notebook full of international phone numbers in my pocket, Shalom Chanoch songs in my iPod and mixed emotions in my heart."

VallekilDe HanGoVer

cb magazine vol. 9 edition no. 37 07

did not realize why I was so drawn to that photograph until this morning. It is a black and white photo of an old, weathered, wooden door. I had seen that one photograph a dozen times, and deemed it as ordinary and unim-

pressive. One of my favorite photographers, Edward Weston, took it back in 1940. This morning I realized that I was drawn to the photo because it captures my most sig-nificant Crossing Borders experience. And yet an old door ought to be far from fasci-nating, really. It defeats the whole point of its purpose: protection. It is fragile, and like my Crossing Borders experience seemed at first, incapable of fending off strangers and harsh weather. All our lives we were taught to tightly lock our doors and keep everything and everyone we did not know out and away. We were taught to stay safe and warm inside. Doors, I now realize, are impedi-ments to knowing and letting oneself be known, and seen. They stop entrance and exit to the endless possibilities in and out of this world. That is also their limi-tation. They stop people, they prevent view, entrance and knowledge; they are borders. Provided we are allowed in, or welcomed beyond the borders of a door, we must knock first, ask for permission. Only then can we open the door, or have it opened for us. Only then can we begin

to discover, to get to know the other, be-gin to see and understand what is there. Opportunities are often symbolized as doors, and my Crossing Borders experience, though a door, has taught me to forgo owning doors because all doors are old and weathered and insufficient. And to live, and to live well, it is necessary to completely leave behind old doors, and question why they were ever there

in the first place. In CB I had to first open up my old weathered door, and turn my back on it forever. I got out of my house, turned my back to my old door and walked out along-side whoever was there to join. It is there where we learned, together, to think other-wise, and better. Because we must all walk out and away from our doors before we can ever begin to think of crossing borders.

In CB I had to first open up

my old weathered door, and turn my back on it forever

»

ia reFleCtion on Doors

“My graduation day this May was a very significant day for me. Though the cer-emony was symbolic, it was actually the first time I had finished something that was to be only the beginning of everything else that would follow in my academic and professional life.”

Jihan Abdalla is a 22-year-old Palestinian. She studied philosophy and journalism in

the USA and is now working as a freelancer.

"It is fragile, and like my Crossing Borders experience seemed at first, incapable of fending off strangers and harsh weather."

Signe and Katherine in front of The Little Mermaid: "The Little Mermaid is not only a national symbol of Denmark but also very associated with Copenhagen, the city where I live. Also, the fairytale is written by our national poet H.C Andersen whose motto was 'to travel is to live,' a motto that goes well with the ideology of CB. "

"This summer I got to be my cousin's maid of honor. It was the most glamorous day yet! I will never have this much makeup on, until my own wedding day."

Photographer: Rune von Buschmann


re you insane? You could prob-ably get yourself arrested!" My friend’s words rang alert bells in my mind after a quick chat online. We were talking about my participation in the CB

workshop in Denmark. "You are kidding! It's a workshop on peace and dialogue, what would be wrong with that?" I asked. "Well you went to Denmark, the country of the cartoons, with people from Palestine and Israel!!!!" "Alright, don't panic," I said to myself as she was just commenting on the dangers of my situation. In a failed attempt to calm myself, I remembered how people in my country boycotted Danish products and some people considering visitors to Den-mark as traitors.Days before going back to Egypt I started thinking about what I should do if my friend was right and I was questioned for that visit or even boycotted by some friends. The whole situation is sensitive and I was not sure what would happen. I started arranging my thoughts; I even

prepared a speech on peace and the im-portance of dialogue, in case I needed it. I revealed my fears to my fellow country-men, as I discovered we all shared the same unpleasant thoughts. When it was time to go home, the thought of getting arrested or questioned or even getting a cold reception from friends and colleagues was causing lots of worries that neither the sweet company of the amazing people I met nor the evergreen charms of Denmark could erase. Arriving at Cairo International Airport and smelling my home’s breeze helped a bit in distracting me from thinking about unpleasant possibilities. As I approached the arrival window I stood in a long line. At its end sat a huge man in white formal police uniform with lots of medals on his shoulders. I stood there for minutes, car-rying my bag on my shoulder, my pass-port in one hand, crossing the fingers of my other hand for good luck.

It was my turn. The policeman behind the glass window took my passport, went through it quickly, then looked at me with a smile and said, "Welcome back!" It was an actual smile... and that was it. I was home, no questions, no nothing. On my way home I received so many calls from friends and colleagues and none ever mentioned anything about where I had been. There were just warm welcome-back words and a few jokes. How silly I was for having those fears that ruined my experi-ence at times. I discovered that sometimes our own internal baseless fears can hinder us from doing lots of things, and can block the way to what we are looking for. The big-ger the risk, the bigger the prize. I think I learned that by experience and some other people need to learn it too. At the end of the night of my return, I was so exhausted and relieved that I laid down on my bed and I whispered to my-self, "what a wonderful world.”

Marianne Nagui is a 28-year-old Egyptian. She is a journalist and has previously worked

as a TV producer in Egypt.

"How silly I was for having those fears that ruined my experience at times."

"What would life be like if there was no occupation? The cruelty of [it] forces both sides to pay the price."

Days before going back

to Egypt I started thinking about what I should do if my friend was right and I was questio-ned for that visit or even boycotted by some friends. The whole situation is sensitive and I was not sure what would happen

»

Fear oFControl or laCk oF it?

"a

It was almost 6 pm on the second day of the Feter Feast and also the first day of the Jewish New Year. If I didn't know any better I would say that the people who live in this coun-try enjoy a high level of harmony and I would personally envy them for the happiness and respect they show for one another and eachothers’ reli-gions. People were all dressed up in new clothes and heading to visit other family members enjoying the festive season. The children were happily playing with their new toys, especially the boys, who seemed fascinated with a gun-like game, while others headed to either a mosque or a synagogue to pray. I felt safe and happy; maybe it was that magical atmosphere of feasts and the vibes of excitement. We decided to head to the beach to enjoy the holiday with my family in-law. We agreed to take the shortest route, which is a highway running through the Palestinian Occupied Territories of the West Bank. I didn't really think much about that decision or the political implications of that, although I regret that I didn't. As the car sped up, we enjoyed the music and mood of a day with no work commit-ments, surrounded by loved-ones. The cold shower started – and maybe it never even ended. The first slam in my face was the Separation Wall that Israel is building 'to protect its secu-rity' as the Israeli government claims. I wondered, what does security mean? Preventing Palestinian families from visiting each other and celebrating feasts with their loved ones, whether Christian or Muslims? Or does it mean violating the right of religious groups from freely practicing their faith in the holiest temples? I remem-bered last year when I saw some peo-ple jumping over that 10-meter-high concrete cement wall, trying to reach the Aqsa mosque to pray. I wondered

how they achieved their aim this year when the wall was topped with lay-ers of barbed wire and monitoring cameras. My levels of endorphins decreased, and I tried to distract myself from what I was seeing and feeling on both my left and right. I decided to look forward into the horizon. The view was spectacular, green mountains painted carefully with spots of trees and … a settlement! But, I thought to myself, 'girl, come on, think posi-tively!' But I couldn't because all I could think of was how some Pales-tinian villages that seem to be blessed by existing in such beautiful scenery are yet so cursed to be surrounded by a wall, and that settlements again prevent the people from free access to services and to those olive groves. We approached a checkpoint. A soldier is there, but why? He is supposed to be with his family enjoying Rosho-shannah. The cruelty of occupation forces both sides to pay the price—not equally, but each has a share. We waved goodbye to the soldier and said 'Shana Tova' in perfect Hebrew, so he didn't check us or ask for our ID cards, but I wondered, if he knew we were Palestinians, would he let us go as smoothly? Would he greet us back and wish us a 'Happy Eid'? Thoughts were now overflowing in my mind. Consequently, I decided to sleep and the feeling that I had less than an hour ago disappeared, leaving only traces of the questions of 'what would be like if there was no occupation? Is there a place where so many contradictions exist, yet the people are strong enough to remain sane?’ My eyes closed and I fell asleep.

Nivine Sandouka Sharaf is a 25-year-old Palestinian. She is a civil society

program officer writing for the British NGO, Oxfam GB.

Fantasy vs. reality



fter ten intensive days in Den-mark, on the way back to Is-rael I started to think about what we had done over the past few days. I started to understand what was go-

ing on around me, shattering my naïve world, which I believed to be true. If I need to summarize the last ten days in one word, hate would be the word. I've felt like an object of hatred. I was "the Zionist enemy," as one of the Egyptian participants referred to me. "We learn at school about your evil ways and we always treat you and relate to you as the enemy." I wondered why in school in Is-rael the only bad thing we learn about Egypt is related to the 1973 war at "Yom Kippur," the holiest day in the Jewish cal-endar, when Egypt and Syria coordinated a surprise attack against Israel.

a

“I hate Israelis. We in Yemen pray that all the Israelis will die; we are attending prayers and wishing that Israel will van-ish." I couldn't believe what I was hear-ing. I looked in her eyes and all I could see was ignorance and hate. I tried talk-ing sense to her but I couldn't reach her. It was like a black curtain was blocking her eyes and her mind. What could I say? That in Israel we adore the Yemen culture, their food, their warm and kind nature? In Israel’s multicultural society we have so many different ethnic groups and some of them are from Muslim countries. Hate, ignorance, brainwash-ing, and stereotypical thinking made them escape from their countries, feel-ing hated and persecuted. If I could summarize my insights from this experience in a few words I would say: don't hate, try to know your "enemy." Try to rely on facts, not on stereotypes, and maybe you will see things differently. I believe that maybe after ten days in the "pressure cooker" some of this hate disappeared. “The others,” the Arab participants who grew up in a hateful society that is teaching children the word "hate" in-stead of teaching them about tolerance and accepting the "other," hopefully met and confronted the "Zionist en-emy," and realized we are all the same and we all wish for a better future for all of us.

Dana Levavy is a 26-year-old Israeli. She studies communication and journlism.

011

If I could summarize

my insights from this experience in a few words I would say: don't hate, try to know your "enemy." Try to rely on facts, not on stereoty-pes, and maybe you will see things differently

»

We never referred to the Egyptian people as our enemy, especially after the peace agreement in 1979 and particularly not in school. Politics are not allowed and I think teaching young children about hate and enemies is not the way to make them better people – on the contrary it will turn them into bitter, hateful, stereo-typing adults. As the days passed by in the small suburb in Denmark, I felt the hatred intensify from a big part of the group. While I can't generalize and say all the Arabs in the seminar hated me, as a minority, I felt hated. I was the

Israeli, the occupier, the murderer, the soldier, the aggressor. My identity vanished; they didn't treat me as a person but as a symbol. I was the ob-ject they could take out their aggres-sion on. As one of them said to me: "I want to go back to my home in Jaffa, can you give me my home back?” Well, can I? Can I, as an individual, change the world? The moment I felt I couldn't cope with this anymore was when I met the Ye-men people. "I have to be honest with you," a beautiful Yemen woman that was covered from head to toe told me,

tHeZionisteneMy

"I was the Israeli, the occupier, the murderer, the soldier, the aggressor. My identity vanished."

"This place is called Mount Monfort (it means the strongest mountain). It's in the north of Israel, in the Galil, very close to the home of a captured Israeli soldier by the name of Gilad Shalit. I chose this photo first of all to remind everyone that Gilad Shalit is 814 days away from home and we need to do something about it. Second of all it's one of my favorite places in Israel, me and my friends hike there a lot. The view is breathtaking."

I am 24 years old and I've never felt that I have good luck. When Suheir called and told me about the Media course, I thought, “With my bad luck, I won’t get to participate." But my visas, insurance, meetings with the Palestinian group all went smoothly and easily. On the day of departure, I was fly-ing inside even before getting into the airplane. "What good luck to get to travel in an airplane," I thought. "I haven’t flown in an airplane since I was a kid.” Our flight wasn’t direct to Copenhagen – we stopped in Frank-furt, Germany. We had four hours before our flight to Copenhagen. Fortunately, we met an old German man who took us on a tour of his city. "I'm really lucky," I thought. "I never knew that I'd visit Frankfurt and have a tour of it!" The German man invited us for a drink, and he was generous with us, which changed my idea that German people are tough and mean. Finally, we reached Copenhagen, and met the Egyptian and Israeli groups. (The Yemenis and Danes were already in Vallekilde the night before). From there we started our travels together as friends. Again I thought, "What good luck to meet other people from other countries!” I never thought I’d have the chance to meet Egyptians, Danes nor Yemenis! We faced problems reaching Valle-kilde; we're not used to trains, and some of us lost baggage in the air-port, but at least, we were in good health. When we reached Vallekilde, all the tired feeling flew away with the smooth wind, the rain showers, and the green fields. For me, every-thing was perfect enough to write a poem, and I've written a couple, after two years of writing nothing. That's good luck, since I haven’t written in such long time. The course started, and we all sank in to working and writing, but we didn’t forget to have fun, laugh, be

crazy and party every night. I will never forget the parties we had there; we annoyed the whole village! But I'm sure they miss us now.I miss the weather in Vallekilde. It's hot in here, and it's Ramadan, which is when Muslims are not allowed to eat nor drink from dawn until sun-set. It's my good luck that we left Den-mark before Ramadan, since sunset there is at almost 10:30 pm, while it's around 7:00 pm here in Jerusalem. I invited the Palestinian group to my residence on September 11th for a breakfast. Suheir, Jihan, Nivine, Baha, Qamar, Kholod, Inas, Marwan and Naimah the Danish (fortunately she was in Ramallah) all came. We had a great time together. We missed all of our friends from other countries: Egyp-tians, Israelis, Yemenis, Danes, and Jor-danians. Oh, borders won't allow them. What bad luck! But it's good luck we're going to meet again in Novem-ber in Aqaba. This course taught me to look at life from other angles, to look at the full side of a half-filled cup. Life is worth living, meeting new people, explor-ing new places, even getting sick of using trains—all of it is a very good opp or t u n it y and good luck.

Mai Kaloti is a 24-year-old

Palestinian. She works as a

journalist at the Arabic daily, Al

Quds.

My Good luck "Life is worth living, meeting new people, exploring new places, and even getting sick of using trains. All of it is a good opportunity."


12 cb magazine vol. 9 edition no. 37 13 cb magazine vol. 9 edition no. 37

he ‘cartoon crisis’ from Den-mark has become a new Dan-ish brand. When cultural sen-sitivity and freedom of speech is debated the drawings come

up. For some they represent the right to freedom of speech, but for others they amplify a serious misuse of this freedom and anti-sensitivity. This was also the case during the CB course in August 2008. An argument used by both groups for and against the publishing of the now famous drawings, is that of personal free-dom. “It is my right to publish them” or “it is my right to be respected - by not having them published.” Since I returned home I have been thinking of this ongoing helix. How is it possible to ensure the personal free-dom of everyone? If my freedom goes to where yours starts, then my freedom is not without limits. The other day I was strolling down the pedestrian street in Copenhagen. Suddenly I noticed something peculiar in a shop window. One of the mannequins was dressed in what looks exactly like the shawl (tal-

lit) Jewish men use during service in the Synagogue. My first impulse was a strong reservation towards this lame new fashion gimmick with the name ‘Isaack.’ Does everything have to be-come mainstream commodities avail-able for everyone? I imagined vivid scenarios with fash-ionable 30-something women bringing ‘Isaack’ to picnics to sit on, throwing it carelessly around their necks on chilly Danish September nights, or even hav-ing sex on ‘Isaack’ when the picnic-date becomes just a bit too cozy. Suddenly I stopped myself. Had I finally found a limit of my own? Does it take little more than a white and blue cloth with a name from the old testaments to of-fend me? My sensitivity surprised me,

"I have my own soft spots that can obviously easily be tickled. I guess personal freedom and its limits depend purely on morality."

wHen My personal

FreeDoM is oFFenDinG

yours

How is it possible

to ensure the personal freedom of everyone? If my freedom goes to where yours starts, then my freedom is not without limits

»

but it also raises a very relevant ques-tion: I am very much against the idea of monopolizing thoughts, symbols or history, claiming authenticity and by this, truth and essence. But I found my-self being a bit provoked by witnessing what is a sacred object for some being used as fashion. On the other hand, I accept that of course the fashion evan-gelists have the right to remove ‘Isaack’ from its normal use to reinterpret its function.I find it easy being resolute about thoughts of freedom of speech and action. But I have also realized that not even I can keep up an uncompromising attitude towards everything. I have my own soft spots that can obviously easily be tickled. I guess personal freedom and its limits depend purely on morality. The question is, when are you willing to compromise your per-sonal freedom for the sake of other peo-ples’ wellbeing?

Kathrine Tschemerinsky Lund Kirkeby is a 20-year-old Dane. She studies anthropo-

logy at Copenhagen University.

‘The rock’ was the place where we always met as kids. It has the inscription of our school, and connecting our separate homes to each other it functioned as a natural gathering point. Now we have all left the sleepy town. But even though we have abandoned the old stone, we left it together, and I now see that the suburbia turned out to be the starting point for friendships that have lasted, even though we spent so many years trying to run away.

tHeroCk stillstaysBy Kathrine Tschemerinsky Lund-Kirkeby

t


o I was walking on Oranian St. in the heart of what is con-sidered to be the ultimate hip quarter of Berlin - famous Kruezberg. The weather was

unexpectedly fair and the streets were crowded with all the young and the beau-tiful, with their exploding energies and their hungry eyes. This was shortly after I returned from the peaceful countryside of Denmark to the high-voltage life in the sizzling German capital. Berlin is where I chose to spend this dying summer, leaving behind my homeland's sack of troubles, or at least denying it for a while.With a deformed hand-rolled cigarette in the corner of my mouth, wearing a cheap second hand jacket and a wrinkled black tie, I approached a certain trendy bar called “Lucia.” I was still trying to recover from those two intensive weeks in Denmark, seeking refuge in a familiar place to calm my thoughts and soothe my soul. Now, before you call anything else “crossing borders,” you should see this place – a trans-cultural/national/gender pool of entities gathered in one space. Every table spoke a different lan-guage and represented several continents. It

was a celebration of cultures, societies, col-ors and little me, blending into a beautiful microcosmos. The people around were all sipping their beers as if toasting to the vic-tory of the so-called global village. And there she was, a beautiful young lady with big eyes and an intelligent smile. She, like I, was forced to sit outside with her beer, exiled by the tyranny of the No-Smoking regime. She stood out with her style, and she had lots of it, from her head to her shoes. A look here, a look there and then there was unquestionable eye con-tact. She needed fire, so I gave her fire. She lit up her cigarette and took it upon herself to break the ice. “Are you Italian?” she asked. “No,” I replied. “Cuban?” “No.” “Spanish?” “No.” “Greek?” “No. Come on, stop it. Are you ready for the answer? I’m Palestinian. How's that?” “Oooooh. And I'm Jewish. So we're sup-posed to kill each other now!” Instead of pulling a gun against her, I pulled a chair to the table and conversed with her at length about art, politics and the pur-suit of happiness. She turned out to be an artist locked in the body of a student of economics, just to please her success-ob-sessed mother. That reminded me of my own mother, who believes that excellence and above-average personal achieve-ments are the only way for her children to overcome discrimination. That girl's name was no other than Samira. “Sorry to tell you that, dear,” I said, “but that's an Arab name.” She said she knew that, and that her cosmopolitan parents picked the name carefully. Ironically, my name can also be considered a Jew-ish name. So, meeting a Jewish girl who carries an Arab name in Germany was one of the first experiences after Denmark. It stirred up again all thoughts of how illusive the perception of the “other” can be, and how fluid the forms of identity are. Just when you thought you met all kinds, a new one comes to teach you a valuable les-son about social relativism. At the end of our conversation, a group of Poles and an Austrian joined our table, preparing me for another lesson.

Hakim Bishara is a 29-year-old Palestinian. He works as a freelance magazine writer

for the newspaper Globes in Tel Aviv.

saMira tHe astonisHinG

s

I’m Palesti-nian. How's that? Oooooh.

And I'm Jewish. So we're supposed to kill each other now!” Instead of pulling a gun against her, I pulled a chair to the table and conversed with her at length about art, politics and the pursuit of happiness

»

"A look here, a look there and then unquestionable eye contact. She needed fire, so I gave her fire. She lit up her cigarette and took it upon herself to break the ice."

’m glad I took part in the Cross-ing Borders Program in Denmark this Summer. It was an amazing experience to get to meet so many different people from different

places and to hear about their expe-riences and get to know them better. I had the opportunity to meet with Danish people, who had a totally dif-ferent experience than ours, because they are living in a different situation with more tranquility and calm. But still, they have their own problems. I liked the diversity of the Egyptian group of strong women who took part in the project. It was the first time I met people from Yemen and that was extraordinary. I hung out with the Palestinian group and even though I live here in Jerusalem there was still so much to learn. Even when I met the Israeli group I thought it was good to chat, talk, hear and respect each other.I did this kind of programs in the

past, but what made this one special is the people. I still remember each one

of the participants. I took so many pic-tures and I'm going through those pic-tures almost every day, remembering the nice moments. I have to say that when I was there I didn't realize that I was enjoying it so much, but when I came back here I was like ‘wow, I had a great time.’I like the way Garba was in charge of

things. We gave him a hard time and despite all of this he managed to keep us happy most of the time. We are still in contact. We send emails to each other on a weekly basis. People like to hear from each other—how things are going and how life is treating us. The importance of these meetings is that you get to know people on a per-sonal level, as human beings, so you care about him/her after. This is what counts. All in all it was a good experi-ence and I hope things will develop in a good way between us all.

Nidal Rafa is a 32-year-old Palestinian. She is a journalist and a producer with

CNN in Palestinian Territories.

"The importance of these meetings is that you get to know people on a personal level, as human beings, so you care about him/her after. This is what counts."

an amazingexperience

i

cb magazine vol. 9 edition no. 37 17 cb magazine vol. 9 edition no. 3716

here are numerous reasons for the persistent conflicts in the Middle East, and journalism plays a prominent role in feed-ing the flames. Yemen, in this

regard, is no exception. Both official and oppositional media outlets are engaged in local violent conflicts. Since my participation in Crossing Borders' culture sensitive media work-shop, I have developed a more criti-cal approach to reporting in my own articles, in those of colleagues and in Yemeni journalism. My experiences in Denmark have drawn my attention to the role of journalism in resolving seri-ous conflicts. Too frequently, Yemen suffers from tribal, political and sectarian conflicts, which have prevented development in certain areas of our country. Whether the conflict is religious like the rebellion in the north, political like demonstra-tions in the south or tribal-like revenge in tribal areas, it is invariably fomented by Yemeni journalists who prefer fuel-ing hatred and prejudice over attempt-ing to resolve old disagreements. Reading most Yemeni newspapers is frustrating because of the amount of one-sided reporting in its pages. The Yemeni journalists’ use of biased ter-minology in relation to conflicts is also disconcerting. Emotionally-charged words such as “betrayer,” “separatist,”

“occupier” and “saboteur” frequently appear in their reports. The vast majority of newspapers in Yemen are owned by political parties and tribal sheikhs for whom they act as mouthpieces. Yemeni journalists incite conflict not only inside the country but also on a regional level. Bias in Yemeni media misleads us and pulls us into isolation. Partial reports reinforce and legitimize the stereotypes and miscon-ceptions rampant in our society. Sometimes I think of picking up the telephone to call a journalist whose story is not conflict-sensitive and ex-plaining to him that his approach to writing is wrong. Fortunately, there are a few newspapers that try to correct misperceptions, offer solutions and rec-oncile parties in conflict, and even more fortunately perhaps, one of these – the Yemen Times – is where I work. However, we still need more objec-tive and peace-oriented journalism. As proven in other countries, good jour-nalism can effectively help to shape fair public opinion and assist in resolv-ing violent disagreements. In order to achieve this, Yemeni journalists need to be trained in conflict-sensitive jour-

nalism. International organizations can help in developing local journalism by teaching Yemeni journalists how to be more objective in their reporting and how to take on a more peaceful role in

their profession, using their writing to resolve instead of foment local conflict.

Khaled-Al-Hilaly is a 29-year-old Yemeni. He works as a journalist for the

newspaper, Yemen Times.

"I have developed a more critical approach to reporting regarding my own articles and other Yemeni journalists."

ConFliCt-sensitiVe MeDia Course neeDeD

tAs proven in other coun-

tries, good journalism can effectively help to shape fair public opinion and assist in resolving violent disagreements

»

"Al-Haya'n village is situated in Al-odain 270 km to the north of Sana'a. Yemeni farmers have been constructing agricultural terraces for centuries. These ter-races, some of the oldest in the world, supply Yemeni households with crops like wheat, barley and coffee."

first heard of Facebook, the trendy web site that connects people from all over the globe, about a year ago. For one year all of my friends pressured me to join the masses. But, stubborn

as I am, I refused to let my social life be-come computerized. The faces of the peo-ple I know shouldn't be on a book, or on a screen. The words that they say should be said in their own personal voices and not all in the same computer font. On the last day of the Danish experience, I joined Facebook. I lifted my arms up high and surrendered. That’s how I stopped fearing and started loving this thing. It was hard to leave Vallekilde and the people I met there. Like a rollercoaster ride, the first days started slowly and safely, then the tension rose until the first fall. The encounters with the other perspectives on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, as reflected in the different ter-minology, were a kick in the face for me. The use of the word "martyr" instead of "terrorist" is just one example. The next part, the next hill, was get-ting to know the faces behind the words,

and trying to understand the sources of their points of view while explaining my own. It was the best part of the two-week gathering. I met incredible people – sharp, intelligent, funny, and unique. I also learned about other cultures, habits, customs and histories. The final phase was the hardest one, the knock-out. It was time to say good-bye. It's devastating to know that I can't talk to my new friends from the West Bank in person. The distance between my city in Israel and Ramallah is simi-lar to the one between the pastoral Vallekilde to the vibrant Copenhagen (about an hour and a half ’s drive). But so many blocks, physical and perceptu-al, are standing in the way of us meet-ing again. Can I pass the borders? Will the locals welcome me freely? Would I be safe there, and are they safe here? What about my new Danish friends? And the Jordanians, Egyptians and sweet partic-ipants from Yemen? We talked constantly without any communication disturbances, at least not ones that couldn’t be overcome over a cup of coffee. And now there is this

distance, and there is the routine of every-day tasks that stands in the way. "I can't talk right now because I'm doing a paper for my studies and it is urgent,” says one. The morning assembly is over. Vallekilde was a like different galaxy. Or should I say a utopia? Since communication has been difficult since leaving Denmark, the web has become the only solution for crossing some borders. I am not advertising Facebook, and still hate the fact that instead of real faces I am looking at photo representations. Even so, it̀ s still good to know that someone is get-ting married, the other got her degree and everyone is safe and smiling. I guess it’s the most insignificant thing I acquired in the Crossing Borders seminar and yet, it may be the most notable one – communicating despite the boundaries. Hopefully, some-time soon, I will despise Facebook again, and we can all meet freely, in person.

Meir ‘Miki’ Levy is a 27-year-old Israeli. He studies communication and journa-lism at Sapir College and writes for the

college newspaper, Spirala.

Finally on FaCeBook

i"It's devastating to know that I can't talk to my new friends from the West Bank in person. So many blocks, physical and perceptual, are standing in the way of us meeting again."

"My hometown, Ashdod, has an 8 km shoreline. It is in the twilight hours, when the beach is almost free of tourists and the sun is setting, that I feel at peace. The open spaces, the sound of the waves, the slight breeze—my inspiration is at its peak. It’s almost as if Venus is about to emerge from the waves."


nything else you need?” he asks. All participating jour-nalists are walking through the ruthless cold and into one of Copenhagen’s mar-

kets adorned with flashing lights of om-nipresent chaos. Someone please tell me what I need. “You,” I think, but I say “shampoo.” I turn and he is gone. Not in this aisle, nor the next. Off with a purpose in some far corridor, probably picking up wine for the night. He always did seem to have a desti-nation, some reason for being in one place or moving to another. In the murk between the past and the future, I am paralyzed by uncertainty, easily distracted, eternally lost in the moment. Reflecting back on the events of the seminar, I wished I could be as confident in my representation as oth-ers were, but my thoughts crippled me. While some journalists were loud and clear about their stance in the conflict dur-ing the seminar, my Jordanian self, torn between ideals of Nationalism, Arabism, Peace and Conflict Resolution, and pure Common Sense, fought another internal raging war. Chasing his shadow, uncovering aisle upon aisle upon aisle, I try to find what I most urgently needed, especially since it has been five days since my suitcases were

declared lost somewhere during my con-necting flight between Amman and Frank-furt (due to labor strikes, of course, which, ironically, I supported). Many years of “Vogue” patriotism and color-fabric-style coordination, mixed with two Anne Klein suits and Cavalli perfumery are snickering at the consumer self I unconsciously have become. I am always intimidated by these chem-ical-yet-seemingly vital displays, this saturation of products thrust at me in kaleidoscope vision. The world is burden-some enough as it is, I think. How will I ever uncover anything meaningful with so many bottles of foreign-labeled sham-poos? Take it easy now... A child is dying of neglect and hunger somewhere in the Savannah dust, eyes glaring, belly bloated; the land is dying in the hands of the pow-erful, the fortified wall is standing tall and here I stand, my life stuck to a halt, until I choose: volume or extra shine? I choose extra shine. What brings all of us journalists here, and what is it about this place that makes me feel so confused? Participating

Palestinians and Israelis compliment each other in their struggle for identity and do not even realize it, while Egyptians have more internal policies that they wish to change. The Danes are still learning about our conflict while fighting for Socialist movements and the “social experiment” of Christiania. The Jordanians, whom by default are the smallest group, are under-represented, yet we felt vital to the group with our social events, alumni follow up ideas and “fish bowl” communication ini-tiatives. I felt more confused when one of my fellow Jordanian journalists constant-ly struggled in identifying himself, as his identity metamorphosed from “Jordani-an” to “Jordanian of Palestinian origins” to “Palestinian Refugee living in Jordan” as the days went by. In my mind, they are all carriers of in-formation, future reporters of the conflict. They are pistons, rotors, shoots, leaves, xylems and phloem, in this organism, this systematic machine in which some belong (while others watch). They are input, they are output. They are Visuals and Audios for the world. But for me, stuck on Mute,

it did not matter much to identify myself in the geographical or racial or political sense, or take full responsibility to be a representative of my country and voice myself as politicians and world leaders, as much as it did to fully allow the experi-ence to engulf me into its senses and help me find myself. The questions still remains; Where do I fit in? What is my function? I follow him. He is out of sight, but I feel the laby-rinth of the floor quivering beneath his tiptoe movement. He is no more part of the mechanism than I, but somehow, in-nately, he somehow knows this maze. I move within, I move along. It becomes equally possible that what I have been chasing after for 24 years is not reality it-self. Out of sight, I find myself wondering if realistically, beyond my traditional and idealistic reach, does he even exist at all, or is it my own reflection that I have been pursuing all along? During my labyrinth, sometimes at the markets, or in the classrooms, or at the lunch table and especially at the pebbled courtyard of Vallekilde where I would find a corner and smoke a cigarette walk-ing the area back and forth, I allowed my thoughts to freely process in observation of the promising yet struggling youth of the region voicing their experiences. I kept searching for a sign of self-identity, a queue where I would stand and make sense of everything, the conflict, the suf-fering, the disillusions, the fairness of it all. Turning, turning, deeper into the cor-ner, through alleys of pursuit, in this haze I walk onwards. Only now, at this moment, does the no-tion enter my mind that perhaps I have always been at the center, that it is indeed the labyrinth, which is turning around me, rather than the reverse. I take a look around me, and standing near me are the other journalists, each centered upon the cores of their beings. After 12 days, it was time to return to my breathing space, time to return home. I packed him with me, this time, in the carry-on, of course. No longer searching for the truth, no longer searching for its shadows, he has always been central, by my side, and not lurking somewhere in this corner, or the next.

Muna Samawi is a 24-year-old Jordanian. She is a programme coordinator for the Jordan

Career Education Foundation.

tHeCorner

"a "Reflecting back on the events of the seminar, I wished I could be as confident in my representation as others were, but my thoughts crippled me."

Sometimes small change leads to

bigger change, Crossing Borders gave me the tools to

make lots of small changes.

»elad Morad

Israeli. Participant in Crossing Borders Youth Coordinators course since 2008

ashera ramadanPalestinian. 23. Participant in CB since 2007. A

‘veteran’ – she has been part of the NGO since she was 16. She is now studying journalism and media in Cyprus.

Crossing Borders has taught me a lot about the conflict and ‘the other side’. It has

given me the hope that maybe one day people can let go of their dif-ferences and the hate they have and decide to move forward and work together to bring justice to everyone. It has definitely been a challenging experience for me but it also opened my eyes to what I want to be in my life. I want to be a journalist who gives a voice to the voiceless and changes peoples’ per-ceptions of what is right and what is wrong.

»

"I am sitting on the edge of our farm house in the outskirts of Amman, looking past my present and into the greeneries of the hills of Palestine on the other side. I am separated from Palestine physically, but the land is there, existing, right in front of my eyes. I am suspended between land and sky, and in equilibrium, my writer self has found herself in the perfect location, never grounded, always afloat..."


Ghassan nicola khouryJordanian, 22. Medical student – on his fifth year.

Part of CB since 2006

CB has opened a new horizon for me. I got a better understanding

of the world as a whole, I learned a lot about many different

cultures, about being tolerant and about accepting people for who they are. I learned not to pass judgment on any individual no matter what.

This is what I trully learned, & I thank everyone who made it

possible...

»

t's always hard to say goodbye to friends, and I had to do that after a short and intensive meeting in Denmark. But all starts

have endings. Me and my new Palestinian friends came from the cold weather in Scandinavia back to warm, sauna-like Israel. We walked side by side in the vast Israeli airport. When we came to customs, the Palestinians were taken to a faraway ‘check room,’ where their luggage was searched before they re-entered Israel. I decided to stick to my new friends and take part in this event, so I, too, went to the "special room" because of my friendship with the Palestinians. It was a short walk to this room and it was a little bit worrying. The security girl that checked us was nice. She offered us cof-fee, but we didn't take it. She told us to put our luggage on the Roentgen machine, and after 15 minutes of "special treatment," we were released from this weird room. After that kind of expe-

rience, I'm suggesting that Palestinians never go to this room alone, because it's unpleasant to be in a "special room" by your self. Try to go, to the faraway room together. The first question I was asked by my Israeli colleagues was, "how was it there?" and I described the whole 10 days of lec-tures, dialogues and parties. I explained about my experience with people that live near us, with whom we share borders. It was the first time I actually defended the Palestinian people. I explained that they have some wonderful individuals. The ones I met know a lot besides the term "Occupation," which I heard so much in the first 2 days of this seminar. But in another 8 days we talked, laughed and cooperated at the discussions. I have told people who are interested in my experience that the

Arab people are just people like us. They have ears, eyes, two arms and two legs. They have thoughts, humor and feelings. I hope the Arab people that came to be my friends are thinking the same things about me. What is going to happen now, after the intensive Danish laboratory? Will we stay friends or at least keep in touch? I hope we will continue to be friends from the friendship that was born in Denmark. We have another meeting in November, in some other place in the world. I just can't wait to see those wonderful people again, and make interesting conversa-tion over a bottle of beer.

Mark Shulman is a 27-year-old Israeli. He studies communication and journalism at

Sapir College.

"A butterfly farm in Beer-sheva. I like this place because it is interesting to see a butterfly be born and fly free everywhere. This image is important to me because I want to be free – like the butterfly.”

i

FiFteen Minutes oF ‘speCial treatMent’

"I have told people who are interested in my experience that the Arab people are just people like us. They have ears, eyes, two arms and two legs. They have thoughts, humor and feelings."

razan wazwaz Palestinian. 21. Participant of CB since 2007.

Has been in two CB Courses.

Being part of Crossing Borders was a great experience for me, because I got the chance

to meet wonderful friends through it and gained a lot of experience. I

especially enjoyed getting the chance to be part of the

internship in cooperation with the Daniel Pearl

Foundation: My internship was at Radio RAM FM in

Ramallah, and the media skills I

got from them and CB were

helpful enough to make me

realize that I want to

study Media.

»


ood is a relatively long last-ing, affective or emotional state." This was the first explanation I got when I 'googled' the word "mood.”

The thing that I've been wondering about lately is what it is about mood that everyone is so concerned about? "Good mood," "bad mood," "think posi-tive" and many of these terms have, unquestionably, gathered momentum in the last five years. With the wave of "you choose to be happy and enjoy the moment" courses and the "Choose your mood every morning" sessions, one must take a minute to think about it: is mood really as effective and domi-nant as they claim it to be or is it just a profitable trend? Don't worry, I don't intend on opening a boring psychology-versus-economics discussion, but I do want to explain it through a short story that took place in Vallekilde, Denmark between August 3rd and 14th, 2008. Exhausted after two flights and two trains, counting the minutes to get to our destination, I found myself talk-ing to a young Jordanian man wearing a black suit. He had lost his luggage and was actually excited about it! He kept telling me, "why should it affect my mood? I should consider it part of the adventure.” The worn-out me en-

couraged him, agreeing that this was a very healthy way of thinking about the situation. Though honestly, I would've flipped out if I had lost my luggage, not knowing when I’d have all of my shoes back. In fact, the notion of wearing that suit for even one more day would've disturbed me; maybe that’s more an is-sue of my female hormones and genes rather than a mood issue. During our stay there, I met several people who continuously repeated the same sentence: "The calm atmosphere absolutely contributes to the good mood I'm in." At first, I didn't pay that much attention to the repetition of it. How-ever, after a week or so, I reached a point in which I was convinced that my mood was affected by the surroundings. The difference between whether I'm in a good mood or why someone else isn't may be the surroundings or the at-mosphere. Yet, it all comes back to one thing: the definition of surroundings – is it the people or the view? Was it the parties every night or the walks we took everyday? Or maybe it as the fact that we were so far from home and every-thing was new to us? If I was asked before the seminar, I

would've said that my mood was all about me – what I want to think about and how I feel in a specific day. Now more than two weeks have passed since I got back home and I couldn't be surer that it's all about the "surroundings," which in my case have proven to be an integral element in shaping my mood. To make the matter crystal clear, I'm not talking about the view or the green fields, or the fresh air of Vallekilde nor the smell of the rain in the middle of Copenhagen; I'm talking about the mood of the people surrounding me. For me, during those magical (seri-ously it was like a fairytale) two weeks, when it came to my mood it was all about that smile that came all the way from Egypt, the strength that burst ev-eryday raising the voice of Palestine, the hope that traveled from Israel, the depth that was sent with love from Jordan and Denmark’s calmness that we were im-mersed in. My mood is now affected by one thing - anticipating the meeting in Novem-ber. It is one meeting in which I get to meet all the essential ingredients of my "mood" cake. I never choose its taste but I'm confident that I won't ever forget it.

Qamar Daher is a 21-year-old Palesti-nian. She studies communication disor-

ders, audiology and speech therapy.

CHoose it or lose it

"My mood is now affected by one thing — anticipating the meeting in November."

For me, during those magi-

cal (seriously it was like a fairytale) two weeks, when it came to my mood it was all about that smile that came all the way from Egypt, the strength that burst everyday raising the voice of Palestine, the hope that trave-led from Israel, the depth that was sent with love from Jordan and Denmark’s calm-ness that we were immersed in

»"M

lasse VolfingDanish. 18. Senior year in highschool.

Has been a part of CB since 2007.

omar al-HadidiJordanian. 23. Studies engineering at Amman University. Has participated in CB since2004.

Crossing Borders gave me the

opportunity to cross borders, not just physically but also mentally. It opened my eyes to other cultures and

religions.

»

CB gave me the needed open-mindedness to listen to ‘the other side’

and put myself in their shoes in order to get closer to a common point of view. Now as a youth and in the future as a leader on any scale… I've recognized that dialogue is the key to peace - as naive as it may sound. Dialogue is the bridge to the safe shore, to friendship. And human relations make this dialogue easier.

»


t first, I was shocked. “She is go-ing to be my annoyance in this course,” I thought. Constantly interrupting, she rambled on about what her fellow Pales-

tinians really meant, acting like a self-appointed spokesperson. “This is going to be two LONG weeks,” I told myself, immediately finding a cultural explana-tion: “She is an Arab, and they are very loud.” Not only did this explain her behavior, it comforted me in a strange way. Now I just had to break the cultural code to find out why she acted like an unrestrained foghorn with legs. At this point I didn’t even consider the fact that the room was full of Arabs who did not shout or gesticulate like madmen. I had expected to learn about media and journalism in the Middle East. Indeed, the headline of the Crossing Borders course at Vallekilde was “me-dia skills,” and I expected little else. Of course, I had wondered how the encoun-ter with a large group of strangers from other cultures would be – what would they look like, how would they be and so

on. However, the most important thing I learned was not about other people. It was about me – how I use prejudices to structuralize the unknown, to make the unfamiliar familiar. In an Arabic context, I reasoned, the aggressive and rough style described above was per-haps the norm, and therefore I should not react to it. The first two days I only heard the loud woman speak in plenum and it did not change my impression of her. I had se-rious doubts that, even considering her cultural background, she would be able to listen to reason – if reason contra-dicted her point of view. However, on the third day, she and I were put in the same workgroup. I was reluctant at first, but it quickly became clear that she was very nuanced and knowledgeable. And I

was frightened. Not because she was dif-ferent than I had expected, but because I had judged her in advance and then, when I acknowledged this, instead of correcting the error by communicating with her, I used my cultural prejudices to satisfy my need for coherence. During the course I could not really put my experience into perspective. Now it seems to me that what I learned through this and similar experiences at Vallekilde was that, despite my intel-lectual attempts at being open-minded, I often explain basic individual differ-ences with cultural difference. Getting to know one’s self better is not an easy process, and it has been a disturbing ex-perience for me to acknowledge that my political and intellectual views are no remedy against prejudice.

DiFFiCultto Be

open-MinDeDNow it seems to me

that what I learned through this and similar experiences at Vallekilde was that, despite my intellectual at-tempts at being open-minded, I often explain basic individual differen-ces with cultural difference

»

Bjarke Hartmeyer Christiansen is a 26-year-old Dane and is currently living in Ramallah. He studies journalism at the university RUC.

a "However, the most important thing I learned was not about other people. It was about me – how I use prejudices to structuralize the unknown, to make the unfamiliar familiar."

sharon ringelIsraeli. 27. Has attended 3 CB journalism courses since 2007.

CB gave me the opportunity to see,

to hear and to touch the other side. Through the communications skills that

I've learned, the journalism tools that I acquired and

especially the friendly and warm people

that I've met. During the seminars

I attended, I've learned

that peace is reachable.

»

amna shahDanish. 19. About to study medicine.

Has participated in CB since 2007.

CB has made a huge positive impression on me, as I have

broadened my horizon by getting to know dif-

ferent cultures & reli-gions! But what really

matters is that I got to know some people

that I'm really good friends with today. So CB is not only an intellectual

experience – it’s also a big social

get-together.

»

cb magazine vol. 9 edition no. 37 cb magazine vol. 9 edition no. 37 27 26

akhria is a young, beautiful Ye-meni woman that I met at the Crossing Borders program. She is 26 and works at the forum of Yemeni women journalists. Although both of us work in

the media field and both of us are Arab women, I’m pretty sure that we wouldn’t have had the chance to meet if not for the Crossing Border program. Garba, the director of Crossing Bor-ders, initially called her ‘Fahriyya’ (pro-nouncing her name with an ‘h’ instead of ‘kh’). The first time I heard him calling her this, I saw her reaction to his mis-pronouncing her name, which was a big smile! I thought to myself, ‘wow, she is so positive!’ Her reaction was very dif-ferent from what I expected. I thought that maybe she would be angry about the mispronunciation or even nervous about it. I felt I should talk to her more. And in memory of how we came to meet, from now on I call her ‘Fahriyya’.’ I felt very lucky when I learned that her room would be in front of mine. Finally I would have the opportunity to speak to an Arab woman from Yemen, a pos-

sibility that I had no chance of experi-encing living as a Palestinian in Israel all my life. I felt that meeting her would be a great opportunity for me to discuss all of the material that I had read about the situation of women there, particularly the concerns of dealing with a patriarchal society. Accordingly, I prepared several questions in my head, being careful not to jump into very personal questions too early on. When I first saw Fakhria, I thought that I would be meeting another “Amina.” Amina is the name of a film (directed by Khadiga Slaima) that takes its name from its principal character, a young Ye-meni woman. Amina was forced to deal with the daily issues of poverty, illiteracy and discrimination that were common to other Yemeni women. But in Fakhria, I didn’t find Amina. Instead, I found something so different, so interesting. Fakhria showed me that Yemeni women

are educated. They are not just “Aminas.” They are also open-minded, and in their own way, they are balancing between be-ing Muslim women and being modern. This challenges the mainstream notion that the two characteristics are essentially incompatible. For Fakhria, being modern is not evident in how you look, but in how you deal with the issues around you. A lot of people will say that she is alone and that she represents herself only. To me and to the world, women like Fakhria exist in Yemen, even if she is considered an ‘ex-ception’ to the media stereotype. In know-ing Fakhria I learned that Yemeni women are not of one color. And in speaking to her, I learned that Yemeni women are not nec-essarily chained to the constraints of pov-erty, illiteracy and gender discrimination.

Kholod Massalha is a 29-year-old Palesti-nian. She works for the media center Ilam

– a Palestinian NGO.

"I learned that Yemeni women are not necessarily chained to constraints of poverty, illiteracy or gender."F

The location of the pictures is : Mount Tabor

"Mount Tabor is a hill rising 500m above the ‘Marj Eben Ameer’ Valley in the region of Galilee. Due to its strategic location along the north-south road, it has been an important fortress since ancient times. Chris-tians have identified a rock atop Mt. Tabor as the place of the Transfiguration of Christ since the 4th century AD. My village Dabburiya is located at the foot of the Mt. Tabor, so is my high school. I used to come to this spot often, especially after exams. Here I smoked my first (and last) cigarette with my friend who died a year later. This place gives me the feeling of flying - that the sky is the limit. And in fact, a lot of people do come to this very spot on the mountain to fly. "

MeetinG 'FaHriyya'

nstead of cursing the darkness, light a candle." With these words of wisdom, I conclude my im-pression of the Crossing Bor-ders Media Skills for Dialogue

Course. My strong belief in humanity makes me cross the phantasmal borders which have been implanted by stereo-types and pre-conceived ideas. I honestly believe that every person has both elements: good and evil. Thereare specific circumstances that enhance these elements; either a person develops a good personality or an evil one. And I despise the prejudicial ideas that a per-son is evil just because he belongs to a certain group of people or he's of one gender or another. When I decided to head to Denmark, I heard much criticism: “How dare you travel to the same country that has of-fended Islam and Muslims? Aren't you afraid of wearing the veil and getting hurt in Denmark?” Nevertheless, my experiences with people of many societ-ies have made me aware of the fact that generalizing is wrong and stereotypes are misleading. My belief is that one should light a candle instead of cursing the darkness, which is what convinced me to pack my bags and take the trip to Denmark. I wanted to kindle the flame of dialogue rather than feed the dark-ness of cultural misconception. In Denmark, I expected to meet ex-ceptional people, especially those who initiated this important journalistic program. Indeed, that is what hap-pened. I had other expectations regard-ing the Danes mainly because of the way I dress, which characterizes me as

a Muslim girl. I thought I'd hear curses or criticism when walking in the streets of Copenhagen. However, I was proven wrong and quite the opposite has hap-pened. Even more, they were friendly and approached me. I did meet a few who refused to hear me speak when I was in Tivoli Park, but overall the Danes were willing to offer their help and they all spoke in English. All of the land was covered with “the green shawl” with drops of rain calmlytouching it, as if they were whispering in the ear of the grass, telling it the 'news' of the sky and that the arrogant sun re-fuses to set. The nature of Denmark is astonishing. I arrived to a town called "Vallikilde" which is a country region close to the shore. There I met journalists who have taken upon themselves the responsi-bility of humanity and spreading the language of dialogue in the shade of cultural misconception. This encounter has added tremendously added to my experience. I reflected on my work as a journalist, because the program includ-ed significant sessions and workshops, in addition to meetings with major journalists working the media. In spite of the disagreements and the political and cultural collisions, friendships and acquaintances evolved between all jour-nalists involved. The most important day I had was when I visited the major newspaper "Politiken" and the Danish Radio and

Television station. I was thrilled to spend the day in the huge studios with a staff of exquisite workers. We met the radio broadcaster and producer Mads Hoisgaard Jorgensen, and most of all I was pleased to meet Dr. Karin Mathes, who told us a lot about the work in a ra-dio station. I was really interested in the kind of work Dr. Karin does. His job is to listen to radio listeners’ complaints, feedback and suggestions for the pro-gram. This special day was the best of my stay in Denmark. I also wandered in the old city of Copenhagen, then moved to the west side, to a part called "Christi-ania" which its residents are considered to be independent and do not rely on the Danish government for their own reasons. At the end of the day, we had a boat tour, where we allowed our laughs and chuckles to merge with the sound of sea. Cameras flashed, documenting the moment, while the rain made the whole group feel like "singing the rain..." All of the stereotypes I had were swept away, then it hit me! Instead of cursing the darkness we should light candles. We as journalists should light the shadows of cultural misconception. Negative no-tions fell apart in the face of the group's will to build human relations –a much higher aim.

Inas Mraih is a Palestinian. She works as a journalist for the Arabic newspaper, Má

Alhadath.

"i "Instead of cursing the darkness, we should light candles."

DialoGue anD tHe Darkness oF Cultural MisConCeption

cb magazine vol. 9 edition no. 37crossing borders denmark august 200828 29

oming back home, how could I translate two inten-sive weeks of talks about the conflict into reality? From the moment I landed in Jeru-salem, the fascinating views

of Denmark changed dramatically into completely different scenes: on one hand, a massive separation wall blazing under the extreme heat of the Middle East, and on the other hand, bulldozers working on the streets, threatening to become killer machines intended to kill Israelis at any moment. When we landed at Tel-Aviv airport, Ji-han was taken into an investigation room, while I passed smoothly, afraid only that the tax inspector would notice that I’d brought too many bottles of alcohol. After I rested a bit, I felt a strong need to forget about the conflict and to stop dealing with its aspects. Those two weeks made me feel really bad and in some ways, even encouraged apathy toward the conflict. During those two weeks, I felt many peo-ple still looked at me only as an evil occu-pier. I, Doron, 25 years old, who came to Denmark in order to change the reality, became in the peoples’ mind, account-

able for all of the problems of Palestinian society. I felt like I carried the occupation, the settlements, the check-points and the terror all on my shoulders. Sorry, we can’t say terror: it’s “only” an innocent struggle for freedom, right? Some others less di-rectly connected to the conflict seemed to see me as a potential security agent, who when asking for their photos for my Fa-cebook profile thought I might be serving the intelligence needs of Israel. Somehow, this conference made me much

more strict and tough during its duration. I came to listen and I found myself mostly talking. I came to speak and most of the time I shouted. It seems to me that the pas-toral layers of Denmark didn’t serve their aim in my case. Maybe dealing with the re-ality on the ground makes me want, more than ever, for peace to come. Amen.

Doron Bar-Gil is a 25-year-old Israeli. He works as a political journalist for the daily,

Maariv Newspaper.

"From the moment I landed in Jerusalem, the fascinating views of Denmark changed dramatically into completely different scenes."

Somehow, this confe-

rence made me much more strict and tough du-ring its duration. I came to listen and I found myself mostly talking. I came to speak and most of the time I shouted.

»

CBaCk to reality

"The bombed village of Sederot, only a half-hour from my village, is a completely different world, where the fear of Quassam mis-siles fired from the Gaza Strip rules. My friends and I went there to help the people and make their lives nicer by cleaning and painting."

"In the south of israel there are amazing open spaces where the silence is ruling. The sun is the only one who has the power to change the view, to play with the shad-ows of those amazing mountains. This is a view you won’t find in Denmark, not even in the wild Norway."


At first, the Crossing Borders course in lovely isolated Vallekilde seemed tiring, unorganised and not meeting the expectations I had. But now, back in Amman, I am certain that the course and the whole trip was absolutely worthwhile, beyond any doubt. The trip started with a few hours of delay in the flight from Amman. Later, the bus at the Copenhagen airport left us because we were late due to the airport los-ing some suitcases – including mine. I felt depressed and I asked myself, "Is this really worth it?” I was uncomfortable. At the Copenhagen airport, I snuck a peek of the CB participants, trying to de-termine who was who. Then we left to Vallekilde, a folk high school founded in 1865. We got there and I said I did not like the place because it was too remote. Then time started to pass and I started to feel the experience of being in the CB course. I gained a lot from the bunch of interesting characters who were taking part in the course. All of us lived together 24 hours each day for 10 nights, learning together, dis-cussing issues together, playing together and even cleaning dishes together. The experience with the participants, the memories, the relations and the friendships I built are all great benefits of the course. The course was an eye-opening one, not in terms of learning media skills but in terms of having the chance to know “the other.” It was good to learn how others think of me, my life, my history, my issues as a Palestinian refugee who lives far away from his occupied homeland, Palestine. I am back in Amman and I still remember every single day we all had there, the discussions we had, all the anger that we let out, all the laughs we had and even the jokes we cracked. Priceless is the word to describe my experience with the people at the course. Was it worth it? Absolutely. Meeting the people in the course is what made it so. Though the course needs some more depth, organisation and focus in its agenda, I still appreciate being a participant in it. These were the words that were crossing my mind the whole time at the airport when heading back to

Amman. The people I met, many of whom are my friends now, will stay in my life for the rest of it. Usually in formal trips and training courses, rela-tions end quite soon afterward, but for this one I am certain the relations I built are permanent.

Mohammad Ghazal is a 25-year-old Jorda-nian. He works as a

journalist for local and regional media.

a priceless experience"I am back in Amman and I still remember every single day we all had there."

Dilay FenerDanish. 20. Studies medicine. Has

been a part of CB for two years.

Crossing Borders has made it possi-

ble for me to learn a lot of new things and see things

in another perspective. And thanks to CB I have

expanded my network and gotten to know

some of the greatest people

in my life.

»

eliran luzon Israeli, 20. Culture Officer in the IDF. Has participated in 4 CB seminars in

Denmark, Turkey and Germany

CB has been the most amazing and meaning-

ful experience in my whole life. Through it, I've ope-ned my mind, earned my

best friends 'till today and joined the Isra-

eli army as an offi-cer spreading the

word about this project which I am so proud to

be a part of.

»

beach became a bigger deal than I had thought. The signs of occupation are so evident everywhere, that even if you try your very best, you cannot es-cape the fact that there is no normal-ity here in this very holy land. The few, but divine hours of peace on the beach almost made me overlook our trip to Tel Aviv. But before I knew it the sun was setting and we had to make our way back. Once again we were driving alongside the suffocating “Safety Barrier/Wall”, making its ruthless way through fields, villages and mountains. Again passing several checkpoints on our way. And finally, just as I thought we had made it back, we were stuck at a checkpoint that had been closed. We never found out why. I still don’t know. Almost three hours of waiting built up frustrations. Impatience grew in me, while my Palestinian friend had a frightening calmness in his eyes. He is used to these things. This is reality for him as well as for many others. But as an outsider, I see no normality here. Life under occupation creates mas-sive amounts of problems. Problems I can’t even begin to comprehend as a Dane, just being here for a short while, before returning back to the safety and peace of Wonderful Co-penhagen – my hometown. I could talk about the wounds, the pain, the orphans, the harsh reality of lacking water and basic needs, the destruction of hundreds of villages, the barriers isolating farmers from their land. But talking about the lack of normality, a life without worry, without restric-tions of movement as a human right is something everyone can understand. Whether being from Denmark, Pales-tine or anywhere else in the world. Some of my new friends here talk about the beach and the ocean as though it is heaven on earth – an un-reachable place, so close, that on a clear day standing on a hill top out-side Ramallah you can actually see the Mediterranean Sea. But it is so dif-ficult for them to reach. Maybe a three hours wait at a checkpoint isn’t so bad after all? And that day on the beach was in fact very nice.

Naimah Hussain is a 25-year-old Dane. She is studying Journalism at the

Danish university RUC and is currently living in Ramallah.

just another Day at the Beach?

The sun is shining in an almost clear blue sky. The temperature is heading well over 30 degrees. The streets are quiet, most people staying in their homes surrounded by friends, family and good food, celebrating their reli-gious holidays – Eid al Fitr and Rosh Hashanah, coincidentally on the ex-act same days this year. We are young, careless and longing for the salty wa-ters of the Mediterranean Sea and the feeling of sand under our feet. Two adventurous Danes, and a Palestin-ian holding a Jerusalem ID. The latter one being so lucky, that he has his par-ent’s car for the day. There is nothing between us and the beautiful sandy beaches than the road ahead of us. Well, other than three military checkpoints, that is. What starts out to be the outlooks of a great carefree day, where our biggest problem is whether we’ll be able to find a shop selling beer during the hol-idays, turns out to be such a hassle that it overshadows my few hours of sun on the beach of Tel Aviv. “Welcome to Palestine” my friend, and designated driver for the day, cynically remarks. And now I understand what he means. I didn’t before coming here. In search of normalitySearching for an easy way to get to the

"Life under occupation creates massive amounts of problems. Problems I can’t even begin to comprehend as a Dane."

DEMENA

MS Danish Association forInternational Co-operation

People today live in a networked world. The borders of our lives are no longer limited to our home towns, regions or countries. Our connections spread across the world. Our online emails and chat and social networking contacts spans the globe. The people we care about are no longer confined to those we see every day.

Become active in CB by becoming a member, voluntary and/or writer. annual membership is 150 Dkk, 200 Dkk for a family, 100 Dkk for students. institutions and companies are welcome to support CB activities at their own discretion.

as a member, you will receive the CB magazine sent to your private address, be invited to CB arrangements and courses and above all support a meaningful dialogue within the Middle east and across the euromed region.

www.crossingborder.org

BE THE FIRST TO JOIN!

cb magazine vol. 9 ed. 37

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