Washington Report on Middle East Affairs, August 2002, pages 79-81

Special Report

 

Media Campaign Brings Young Stars of “Promises” to America and the World

 

By Basil Ayish

For most of us, attending the Academy Awards would be a trip of a lifetime. Thanks to their appearance in the Oscar-nominated documentary “Promises,” two young Palestinians risked their lives to attend—not, however, for the chance to rub elbows with movie stars and celebrities, but for 15 seconds to address an international audience of 78 million people. Instead, they got more than an hour’s worth of airtime.

Fifteen-year-old Sanabel Al Fararja and her friend Kayan Al Saify, 16, live in Bethlehem’s Dheisheh Refugee Camp. The two are members of the Palestinian Folkloric Dance Troup of the Ibdaa Cultural Center, a sort of YMCA for Dheisheh Refugee Camp youth co-founded by Ziad Abbas. Many Americans had the opportunity to see the Ibdaa troup perform when they toured the U.S. two years ago.

Thanks to the efforts of Abbas and Barbara Lubin, whose Berkeley-based Middle East Children’s Alliance contributes to Ibdaa, when three San Francisco Bay Area directors, one of them an Israeli American, began a documentary project in 1995 to follow the lives of Palestinian and Jewish Israeli children living near Jerusalem, they went to Dheisheh and Ibdaa. There they met Sanabel, then 8, whose father was a political prisoner and had been deported for much of her young life. Filming two years later, the documentary directors were moved by Sanabel’s passion and desire to appeal directly to Jewish Israeli youth.

“Promises” tells the stories of seven Palestinian and Jewish Israeli children growing up amid conflict. Although they live only 20 minutes from each other, in every other respect they are worlds apart. A frequently aired segment of the film shows the 10-year-old Sanabel sitting amid other Dheisheh Camp children convincing them of the necessity of telling their stories to their Israeli peers, rather than leaving peace to the politicians.

After five years of hard work editing the film, directors Justine Shapiro, Carlos Bolado and B.Z. Goldberg were rewarded with an Oscar nomination in 2002. They decided to have Sanabel, Kayan and Ziad join them at the Academy Awards, as well as the Israeli twins, Yarko and Daniel, who visited Dheisheh in the film.

On March 19th the teenagers’ journey to Los Angeles began. As the girls were preparing to leave for the U.S., Israeli tanks were positioned 30 feet from Sanabel’s home, and Israeli soldiers had just locked Kayan in a closet of her home and ransacked the rooms looking for “hidden weapons.” Because of the travel restrictions Palestinians must endure, the determined teenagers literally had to be smuggled across the West Bank to reach the Jordanian airport in Amman. “We had to change cars four times and carry our suitcase over dirt paths and around checkpoints,” Kayan said matter-of-factly. “If the Israeli army saw us, they might have shot us,” she added.

After two days and countless obstacles, these brave and indomitable girls arrived in L.A.

 

Delivering a Message

Had “Promises” won an Oscar, Sanabel would have had 15 seconds to address the audience. “I am a Palestinian refugee child,” she planned to say. “I have hands, I have legs, I have a spirit. I am just like you. I am fed up with the Israeli occupation. What we want is justice and real peace. Bring justice for Palestinian refugees.”

When the winner for Best Documentary was announced and “Promises” was not chosen, Sanabel wept. She refused to be deterred, however, and asked the directors to find another Oscar-winning film she could get on stage with.

One of the lighter moments at the Oscars came when the girls, rejecting the designer gowns provided them, insisted on wearing their traditional Palestinian embroidered dresses, or thobes. This was the first time in the history of the Oscars that two young Palestinian girls could make both a fashion statement and a political statement with their outfits. In addition to the thobe the girls wore keffiyeh headbands with ends displaying tassels in the shape and colors of the Palestinian flag. Amid all the beautifully clothed people milling about in front of the Kodak Theater a fashion reporter approached Sanabel to ask about her dress. “I am a Palestinian refugee child” began Sanabel, to a response of, “I write about fashion, not politics.” “Promises” director B.Z. Goldberg then explained to the reporter how Sanabel’s dress had been hand made by her grandmother in the traditional embroidery style of her Palestinian village, which she left in 1948, making her a refugee. The reporter looked at B.Z. and grinned. Still, the trend-setting headbands and dresses were about to catch on.

Following their Oscar weekend, Kayan and Sanabel traveled with Ziad to San Francisco to participate in Land Day commemorations there. Shortly thereafter, on March 29, Israel picked up the pace of its already deadly invasion of Palestinian towns and refugee camps. The complete closure even to humanitarian aid workers and journalists was ominous. The girls’ parents told them over the phone that it was impossible for them to return. Whole towns were under siege and all indications were that this latest Israeli offensive was not temporary. Still, despite their fear for their family and friends at home, the girls’ even stronger desire to reach out to American and international audiences was inspiring. Visiting the Golden Gate Bridge and seeing other sights of San Francisco had no place on their to-do list.

 

A Story to Be Told

In my own years of activism, I have never really worked with journalists. I was suspicious about the media’s pervasive pro-Israel leanings, and tended to dismiss the media as a “lost cause.” I couldn’t bear to read most newspapers or watch network news. After meeting Kayan and Sanabel, however, who were staying with a mutual friend, Jumana Muwafi, I knew there was a story that needed to be covered, and that the same media I distrusted was our best outlet for reaching many Americans.

Demonstrations were being organized throughout the Bay Area, and the conflict was in the news every day. We all shared a sense of urgency and frustration as, once again, Palestinians were being blamed for bringing Israel’s crushing military weight upon them. So I started putting the pieces together for a pitch to the media: local angle of an international event, Palestinian refugees journey from their camp to the Academy Awards, teenage girls stranded, their family’s status in question.

We began working the phones non-stop, calling television and newspaper reporters throughout the San Francisco Bay Area and nationally. We even called local schools to ask if they would like to have a student-to-student presentation of the Palestinian experience. We hoped to use any opportunity to get Kayan and Sanabel heard.

Initially, there was a fair amount of indifference. Being persistent and calling several people within each organization paid off, however. Six days after the girls arrived we had our first local TV interview. Two days later came our first radio and newspaper interviews. At the end of that first week, all five local television stations had created a temporary studio in Jumana’s one-bedroom apartment: three radio stations came by, and two newspapers covered the stranded girls’ story as well. Soon national and international news stations were beginning to respond to my calls. The girls were becoming a sensation—and why not? They were composed, passionate, light but straight-talking, and always enthusiastic.

The majority of the reporters and correspondents I met during the ensuing two months of media attention were genuinely interested in learning more about the Palestinian side of the Palestine/Israel debate from these young teachers. They were sensitive to the accusations that the Israeli perspective gets more coverage, and explained how Israeli representatives and spokespeople were so easily accessible. Journalists familiar with both arguments admitted that finding newsworthy Palestinian spokespeople was difficult.

During a rare post-interview lunch an Italian-American woman who had just entered the restaurant stopped dead in her tracks and was nearly overcome with emotion at seeing Sanabel and Kayan. She was at once proud of the girls, excited about seeing them, and sad about the injustices Palestinians suffer. This surprising woman carried Mohammed Durra’s story with her and said she would build a soccer stadium in his name if she could. Many journalists and concerned community members went to extraordinary lengths to track us down for interviews or to invite the girls to their schools, community events and homes. Nearly everywhere we went, in fact, Sanabel and Kayan were recognized and stopped by empathetic passersby. People were being touched in ways we never could have anticipated.

Whether sitting on the plane, eating at a restaurant or walking down the sidewalk, our budding spokeswomen kept the Palestinian plight and refugees’ right of return first and foremost on their minds. Strolling through San Francisco’s financial district one day, Sanabel began to spontaneously chant, “End the occupation, now!” A passerby stopped and asked, “Which occupation?” Now Sanabel had her chance—and on the streets of San Francisco a 15-year-old Palestinian proceeded to teach History 101 to a 30-something-year-old banker.

By the middle of May, when they finally were able to return to their parents in Dheisheh, Sanabel and Kayan had been interviewed by more than 30 news programs, 18 radio stations, 16 publications and nearly 20 student groups, and participated in more than 20 community events, presentations and fund-raisers. Not only were the girls’ voices heard all over the world courtesy of the BBC, CNN and MSNBC, but outlets such as the Jerusalem Post and Brazil’s Globo TV carried interviews with Sanabel and Kayan. A Google search for either girl now lists more than 500 entries.

In the beginning, although their English was functional, the girls had Jumana serve as translator. As the interviews accumulated, however—sometimes there would be several news organizations backed up, waiting their turn to enter the apartment—Kayan and Sanabel became more confident conversing in English. They quickly learned to use the word “cut” when they needed a question clarified and wanted taping to stop. Although the questions were hard, the girls’ answers were powerful. A major breakthrough occurred when CNN’s Rusty Dornin made the girls feel sufficiently comfortable, and gave them enough encouragement, to answer her questions in English. Watching someone’s progress in a new language is always exciting. Hearing two teenagers articulate their hopes and aspirations, as well as discuss Israel’s injustices and violations of international law, in terms which sometimes elude even experienced speakers, was impressive—and moving.

Kayan and Sanabel had an innate sense of their responsibility, and represented the Palestinian voice with clarity, passion and pride. Everyone who spoke with them had to remind himself or herself that the individuals they were interviewing were teenagers and not experienced diplomats. Because they never portrayed themselves as victims, and because of their youthful innocence and simplicity, everyone who came in contact with Sanabel and Kayan was imbued with a kind of optimism and determination not to give up, no matter how daunting the situation and how great the power imbalance is between Palestinians and Israelis. Watching Sanabel shadow and challenge an Israel sympathizer who was videotaping a Palestinian rights demonstration was at once hilarious and inspiring. “Are you with Mossad?” Sanabel asked the man. “Because Mossad already has many pictures of us. You should tape this for them,” she would say with adolescent straightforwardness as she waved a Palestinian flag in front of the camera with her outstretched arms.

The confidence and pride our Palestinian Academy Awards attendees exhibited was infectious. Indeed, their very beings are political statements. From the clothes they wore and the keffiyeh/bandana fashion statement they created, to their demand to be treated as equals, with respect and dignity, by Israelis and the entire world, these young leaders inspired everyone they met with hope for a bright and just future for Palestinians everywhere.

< Prev		Next >