The Galilee Moms-Acco

“Hello Zelda, my name is Isabel and I have been recommended to you by a mutual friend. I am coming to Israel after Pesach and would like very much to meet up with people who are involved in seeking peace. Could you help me?”

Isabel, a graduate of both Oxford and Cambridge universities, had decided to pursue a career in journalism and was interested in conducting radio interviews while in Israel. Our mutual friend had convinced her that this was the place to start her journalistic career because there was no place more fascinating in the world. Frustrating, faulty, frivolous, family orientated, funny, sometimes futile, but fascinating nevertheless.

Her voice was deep and mature, just the voice for a radio journalist. She plied me with questions over the phone and eventually we put together the outline for her program and at that point she asked whether I knew of an inexpensive place to stay in Tel Aviv? I replied “mine”.

So ten days ago Highgate met Hadar Yosef.

Highgate, where she lives, can be described as North London and Hadar Yosef as North Tel Aviv, both with massive areas of green close by, but there ends any resemblance.

She turned up early in the evening. I opened the door to a blond peaches and cream young woman with extraordinary clear blue eyes and instantly knew that we would have a great time together. We talked into the early hours and she was insatiable.

The next day she amused herself taking in the neighborhood where I live which is still almost in a time warp. Hadar Yosef was settled in the fifties to facilitate the incoming of refugees from Arab lands and survivors of the Holocaust. The buildings were constructed with tiny apartments running in a line reminiscent of a railway carriage and earned the nickname “rakavot”(trains). Every street bears the name of a Jewish community which perished during the Nazi era. I live on Warsaw. Some places are ramshackle while other homes pristine, but everywhere there are pathways and overhanging bougainvillea and bushes, and people are friendly.

That evening we met with the inimitable Robi Damelin, PR Director of the Parents Forum. We sat in a shady garden in the midst of Tel Aviv while green parakeets which have invaded our city flew in and out of the trees, dogs barked and cats hung on to our every word. Robi, whose son, an army officer and brilliant academic, was murdered by Hamas, described the movement: “It is, as far as we know, a world precedent that bereaved families, victims from both sides, embark on a joint reconciliation mission while the conflict is still active. Consisting of several hundreds of families, half Palestinian and half Israeli, The Families/Parents Forum has played a crucial role since its inception in 1995, in spearheading a reconciliation process between both peoples. The members have all lost immediate family members due to the violence in the region. Robi personally takes the message all over the world. “Imagine,” she smiled “they asked me to come to Ireland”!

Then we headed off to explore the city. Issy, as she likes to be called, had never set foot in our crazy country before. We found ourselves in Arlozorov Street, heard loudspeakers, music and encountered hundreds of young and not so young people in blue shirts, red handkerchiefs around their throats, streaming out of the enormous Histadrut building. It was a May 1^st celebration. Issy wanted to talk to people. As luck would have it we picked on two men in their thirties, one of whom spoke excellent English. With mike in hand, in a short time she had learned all about the Labor movement in Israel. She had her first taste of the extraordinary cross section of the multi- culturalism in our country - Jews and Arabs including Bedouin, Christians, Druze, immigrants from the former USSR, western countries and Ethiopians. “I heard that there were black Jews from Ethiopia and I want to know more” she had said.

We then bussed to Hayarkon street and from the promenade we ventured down to the beach, and continued to Jaffa, her bejewelled lights beckoning in the distance. Issy was enthralled when we stopped at the Abulafia bakery where she recorded as I described the tasty cardamon and sesame coated breads, the honey dripping baklava and more. The young boys serving us were fascinated by her looks and so we had three-way conversations and she learned about the history of the iconical Abulafias.

As we climbed up towards the old city we could hear music, and the aroma of spicy food hit our nostrils. It was Thursday evening and a food happening was taking place. Crowds of Jewish and Arab families and tourists eating, drinking and dancing to lively bands dotted around. The atmosphere was exhilarating and she could not believe her eyes nor control her senses.

Later we returned home. Day one was over.

The following day was Friday and she helped prepare the Shabbat meal for our family which was to take place in my home, but not before we attended the “best show in town”, the Royal Wedding and Queen's birthday bash at the Rabin Center in Tel Aviv.

Her plan was to go to Jerusalem the next day and at the bash she met the person who was to show her around, a veteran Reuters journalist. I introduced her to a few celebs and pointed out many people she might have heard about.

By mid morning on Shabbat we were approaching Tel Aviv central bus station where she was to pick up a sherut taxi to the Holy City. She was overwhelmed by the scene, such a contrasting atmosphere to that of the two previous days. She gazed at the Darfurians, Eritreans, Filipinos and others strolling around who have found sanctuary at least for now in Israel. We then spotted a group of Ethiopians in their white and gold edged finery coming out of synagogue, she felt that she should interview everyone, but that was impossible.

On arrival in Jerusalem Issy set about exploring all the holy Christian sites and called her mother to say “Would you believe it Mummy, I am in the Garden of Gethsemane?”

She then met up with journalists including one who represented settlers. Next with Avner from West Jerusalem and an Arab activist from East Jerusalem, leading members of the Combatants for Peace. This is an organization of Israeli and Palestinian veterans of armed conflict, who have concluded that there can be no solution through violence. The Israeli members served as combat soldiers in the Israel Defense Forces, while the Palestinian members had been involved in acts of violence in the name of Palestinian liberation.

The following morning she met with Hagit from Peace Now who is the granddaughter of the late esteemed if controversial Prof. Yeshaiyahu Leibowitz. A meeting had also been arranged for her to visit a lady who lives near Bethlehem. She was intrepid when alighting an Arab bus going into the West Bank but was a little nervous when going through a checkpoint. She arrived at the pre- destined meeting point without a cell phone and not knowing where she was. Her hostess pitched up and proved to be yet another charming and erudite person working for peace in her community.

She spent Holocaust Day in Jerusalem and visited Yad Vashem. After all these many and varied meetings, Issy returned to my home on Monday evening and there was much to talk about.

Tuesday was for contacting more people and suddenly she looked at me with those incredible blue eyes and said: “It’s such a wonderful day, could we go to the beach?” Tel Baruch beach is fairly near so Isabel had yet another Israeli experience at the sifted sand beach and the Med.

That evening we found ourselves at Hermanos in Even Yehuda near Netanya at a 40^th birthday party for singer and entertainer Hagit Maoz who happens to be a family member. The place was packed and for two hours we sang along, (with food of course) and heard a mix of great guest performers including some of Hagit’s young pupils, themselves budding stars. Issy loved every minute, again surprised by the way Israelis enjoy themselves and are so warm and spontaneous.

Early Wednesday morning she visited Wolfson hospital in Holon to meet the outstanding doctors who volunteer in the organization Save A Child’s Heart. She also visited the ICU unit where mothers from Ethiopia, Africa, Iraq and Gaza sat next to their little ones who had already undergone heart surgery and were gradually recovering. Then to the recuperation home in Azur where tiny heart patients from places around the world are cared for before and after surgery. For her this was a profound humanitarian experience.

In the afternoon we boarded a train to the North. I had heard about the Galilee Moms from my friend Linda Cronin who had helped set up a meeting with educator Dr Anat Pinto, lawyer Fadwa Busnaq and Safta Jamila Chir of the now famous soap empire Jamila’s secrets, founders of this organization. Michael Cronin kindly drove us to the lovely house in Peki’in, a Druze village where people of four faiths live together in harmony. Galilee Moms, established as a private organization without political or ideological affiliation, aims to understand from a mother's perspective, the customs, ceremonies, holidays and folklore of the Galilee's various cultures, and to produce ambassadors for learning and shared coexistence.

  The House in Peki'in  is open every Sunday evening from 18:00 to every mother in the Galilee, in Israel and the world. Everyone is welcome to hear, learn, share and participate in activities. They all said that love and peace come from the home and can and should be spread around. After listening to these inspiring women Issy was convinced that the message of true peace should go out   loud and strong from Peki'in in the Galilee.

Lavon, the village where the Cronins live, is close to paradise. The sweeping panorama from their balcony with its abundance of green hills, mountains and valleys is a very special place.

We were imbued with a profound sense of peacefulness and calm. Maybe there, being in touch with human nature and the God-given natural surroundings we can find the ingredients for true peace, but only if we allow them in.

Later that night we made our way back by taxi and train to the big Orange. Isabel packed and checked her equipment and her notes so that in the morning she could leave my home for the return flight.

As luck would have it there was a fuel crisis and flights had been delayed, but she managed to board a flight out which refueled in Greece. She texted the next day to say that going through security check at Ben Gurion the officials were concerned that the metal buckles on her overalls were causing the alarm to go off. She was aghast: “Do you expect me to cut off the buckles? I would rather remove the overalls.” That was too much for the officials who smartly moved her on.

Is peace possible in our neck of the woods? One would hope so.