This blog was written by Fabienne van Eck, our Program Coodinator West Asia
For months, we have been diligently preparing an incredible program with our 100 students from al-Kamandjati’s Hebron and Southern Orchestra and Choir. During our final rehearsal, the teachers and I exchanged proud glances as the children played independently, producing a beautiful sound. We were ready. Ready to perform in the picturesque village of at-Tuwane, South Hebron.
Just a week ago, fire artist Ahmad Jubeh and I performed in at-Tuwane. Over half of the village gathered to watch our show, enjoying the sounds of the cello alongside the captivating flames of the fire. However, just days later, a starkly different fire erupted in at-Tuwane, as settlers set the village mosque and a car on fire.
Meanwhile, I was busy organizing our concert program with The Palestinian Circus, who were set to perform juggling and acrobatic acts during some of our musical pieces. As we discussed the duration and atmosphere of each piece to determine which act would complement which music, the Israeli army was also discussing at-Tuwane. While Al-Kamandjati and Ghirass Cultural Center were coordinating the logistics to bring 100 children with their music instruments to the village, the army was planning yet another closure.
Because, obviously, what is the appropriate response when criminals set fire to a village mosque? You close the village. You declare it a closed zone and even prevent the Red Cross from entering. Because in what world would you actually hold the perpetrators accountable? Not in this one. Here, the victims face collective punishment.
Every musician or artist understands the feeling of dedicating months to prepare for a performance or exhibition, only to have it canceled.
Here is the part where I should write that we implement Plan B, that we will create something wonderful to unite people through music, and that we will all be happy again. But our Plans B, C, and D have also fallen through, and this story does not have a happy ending.
Our students can now pack their instruments and stay home. Perhaps they can catch up on some television. The circus artists will have extra time to stretch. The bus drivers will get the opportunity to drive around looking for fuel since supplies are nearly depleted, and there’s nothing quite as enjoyable as waiting in line at the gas station. I can relax on my couch at home, relishing the extra free time I now possess, allowing me to reflect on the injustices occurring around me.
Yet, we are still in a far better position than our brothers and sisters in Gaza.
