I didn’t come in to this program with any specific expectations as to whom I would meet. Still, I didn’t think that in coming to Syria I would end up hanging out by a pool while playing foosball with a group obsessed with having fun even if it means never sleeping but that’s exactly where nights take you if you hang out with a group of guys like Adib, Faiz and Feras. I knew that haggling was common place in the souks but I didn’t realize the artistry of it until listening to Manar talk prices down to nothing at every shop we visited. I knew dancing was popular but I didn’t think I would have Syrian and American students pulling me up to dance at a concert.

The people here are as much of an amazing wonder to behold as the mosques, churches and souks. It’s not enough to read about life here. Just like a great work of art, it’s necessary to see the whole mosaic of interaction here in person. There’s a feeling of friendliness and openness here that is so difficult to describe to the point where, while sitting trying to type, I feel like a little kid trying to catch fireflies in a jar so that everyone can see this wonder.

-Jordan Seagrove, 2010 AMLN participant

I found that once outside of the dialogue room while roaming through the streets of any city we would visit was when I truly felt I could open up and share aspects of myself, and learn from them. It was also an incredible opportunity to sit back and learn from them, since they inevitably knew the souk better than I did!

Two particular moments stick out in my mind. The first moment took place the very first Sunday in Damascus. I had asked some youth to show me the old Jewish section, and the whole group decided to come along. For me this was a tremendous moment, and very much a tribute to the AMLN experience – that all backgrounds, religions, and heritage are honored. For me, it was also exciting because I never thought I would be in Damascus in conversation about religion and my upbringing in New York, and it was incredible to hear the opinions of my Syrian peers and share our ideas.

I also very much appreciated the Syrian students who took us around Aleppo and showed us the Citadel and markets there. Upon arrival at the Aleppo Souk, I immediately jumped into action – I wanted to be sure I had time to buy the promised gifts for my family. Growing up in America, and studying its foreign policy, I felt that I had been taught a certain attitude, that as an American I had to be assertive and that doors will always open. The fault in this thinking became so apparent in the marketplaces where it was clear many of us had no idea what we were doing or how to bargain for what we wanted. I was grateful for the opportunity to be at the “mercy” of the bargaining and guiding skills of our Syrian counterparts. It was here I also felt I was able to ask some of the young women questions about their upbringing and the ways that religion impacts their lives, and share some of my experiences (which were quite similar!) with them.

-Cynthia Bernstein, 2010 AMLN participant

I introduced myself and asked the governor what measures have been taken in the Aleppo school curriculum to provide students with open perspective and multiple narratives. He then took the opportunity to engage me in a lengthy “conversation” on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. While I enjoyed being able to share my perspective and felt honored that he was speaking with me at length, I felt very limited by the language barrier, and that others were trying to translate or tell me their opinions as
I was trying to understand the governor’s words. I also felt limited by my position and at some point asked him how he expected me to respond with my true thoughts in a room full of people and television cameras. I also wanted to leave time for my peers to continue to ask their important questions, and did not want to dominate the conversation – though I also understood that the governor was excited I was Jewish and wanted to speak more because of my heritage and religion.

At the end he thanked me for my courage and for sharing my point of view. I believe this was a key moment for me, one that I will often revisit to further inspire my work in reconciliation and dialogue.

In addition to our conversation on the conflict, the governor and I also spoke about the rich history of the Jewish community in Aleppo. I commented that I was well aware that the Jews of Aleppo lived there in peace and prosperity for centuries and that I would love to see if there is any synagogue still standing.

After our meeting the governor then arranged for his head translator to take me on a private tour of the
Jewish area. I very much appreciated this experience. At Wednesday’s conclusion I felt very privileged that by participating in AMLN I was able to honor not only my American Heritage, but my Jewish one as well.

-Cynthia Bernstein, 2010 AMLN participant

Before the program, we were thinking as Syrian students that the United States is like the movies: nightclubs, drinking and parties.

But today I am blaming myself for having these ideas, and I am watching through the American students how much this country is educated, wonderful and conservative.

Fifteen Americans, they came from different states for the same purpose: peace, knowledge and friendship.
They have a value for life. They know how to live and they know that there is a time for jokes and a time for work. So you can take from them and teach.

From the wisdom of Amal, the knowledge and the understanding of Rami, the character of Nicholas , the fun of Mae, the cleverness of Rima. And who can forget Stefanie’s smile, and Jordan’s movements, the calmness of Hanna, and also Leanne’s face. All you guys . . . you were so kind and nice.

For a moment, I closed my eyes then I found myself with my family, this family that I can’t live without . . .

At that time, I began thinking how much I love them, and how much they became a part of my life.

That life will be boring without you guys…

With love…

Manar Ksebeh, Damascus – Syria
2010 AMLN participant

They have taken us around the old cities, to their hang outs and have spent hours with us when we got sick. From all the amazing people we met, these two students made an impact on how I view Syria through their eyes. Adnan, 22, and Manar, 18, understand our views and have an open mind. They understand more about our culture and our country than we give them credit for. One moment in particular I found really amazing is when we as a group decided to go out and we went to Suk al Hamideya, and we wanted to visit the Jewish quarters of Syria, upon the request of one of our participants who is Jewish American, and also from our own curiosity. These guys who have never been there took the entire group of 13 people, and being the search for this old quarter, they stopped at nothing to get us there. They did so out of respect for us and a wonder of their own. That moment really defined the tone of the trip. They went around asking random people on the streets to store owners until we finally go there. We then visited a mosque and a church at that same time. We visited three holy places of the three largest religions in the world. It was amazing. While getting to know more about these guys, I learned their hopes and dreams and what I found amazing is that they want to stay in their country to complete these dreams. Manar wants to study media and Adnan wants to be an actor. We have an ongoing joke that Manar will have his own show and interview Adnan when he becomes too famous for any of us to even speak to him! I feel that as Americans, many of us think that Arabs and people in the other part of the world are dying to get out! They want to go to America or anywhere in the world; I was one of those people. I have come to find out that’s not the case. I have never met people so patriotic about their country, their “Watan”. It’s really amazing and inspirational the love and devotion they feel for their country. Speaking with them you can tell it’s a genuine respect and love they have, these guys are true thinkers, even though they are young they have so many questions. They seek knowledge. While speaking with them in groups and on individual levels, they bring up topics that I would have thought to be taboo in Syria. Nothing fazes them, they are not afraid to ask “Why?” And seek more than the answer given to them. They brought up topics such as gay marriage, abortion, Palestine/Israel and of course Syria/U.S. relations and they try to understand more about all of these topics, and are more open about many of those topics then people are in the States.

These people are just like us, American or Syrian, we are people, we are not our government, politics or statistics, we are people who have real issues and lives that are so different but at the same time intertwined. I have had the honor in getting to know these two young men and understand that there is a whole world out there and people that are just like us. I know I’m being repetitive but I cannot find the words to explain, I guess it’s something that you need to experience. I know one thing for sure, I will never look at someone from the outside and judge them. You always need to find out how they live, who they are – that’s the only way. I feel that these guys are like my little brothers, and they know that they have a sister in me. It will be hard to leave. I only pray that our presence in their lives have made an impact as well. I hope that in the near future our two countries will put aside political pressures and learn to listen to the youth of their countries. The real prosperity for both countries is the depth and understanding of the youth, the cultural understanding and tolerance that we have for one another.

-Mae Ramadan, 2010 AMLN participant

It is hard for me to choose one specific event that has impacted me on this trip. This trip has been much more then I expected. It’s my first time in Syria or in the Arab world and I feel that I actually fit in. I feel that same patriotism that my counterparts in Syria feel for both Syria and the United States. I feel that as an American coming to Syria, I have the opportunity to reflect my views and to debunk any stereotypes of Americans, and the amazing part is that some of the Syrian people we have met with embraced us and understood us. From the many dialogue sessions to the meetings with officials, I feel that our points of view as Americans and of America have been heard. They understand that as Americans we are not our government, that we all think and feel different things when it comes to the politics and policies of our country. They understand that we too are as patriotic and proud to be American as they are to be Syrian.

There have been so many moments on this trip that have impacted me, whether it’s the meeting with the Minister of Youth in Syria, or the meeting with Dr. Fatina Shaal, Vice of Damascus University, or getting married in the Bedouin tent! Everything from the amazing concerts of Marcel Khalife or the trips to ancient Palmyra and the Golan and Quneitra to just relaxing and spending time with Syrian youth; it has all made an impact and has changed me in ways I cannot explain. Views that I held so close and confident have begun to shake to their core. This trip and the people I have met and everything I saw has completely changed me. It’s a change that I welcome and embrace and I hope will continue to surprise me.

I think I need to clarify my wedding in the tent! It was one of the funniest moments for me, and I think for the group as a whole. That entire day we had been traveling from Damascus to Palmyra and climbed the ancient stones, got up early to see the sun rise, saw camels and were followed by TV cameras and just walking. At about 11:30pm, we headed out to dinner (I know our food schedule is very healthy!) and we were all sitting, watching the amazing Bedouin dancers. I cannot see a good party happening and not get up! So I took one of our facilitators, Dina, to the floor with me, and this man whose son just got married gave us a gift of two wedding outfits for me and Dina, and the leader of the dancers dressed us up. As in a traditional Bedouin wedding, he walked us around the tent! It was amazing and at the end of my wedding, the whole group was on its feet dancing and doing dabke! It was a great night that brought us all even closer. That was one of the most memorable nights I had.

The other place that truly impacted me was the trip to the Golan and Quneitra. Being of Palestinian descent, it was emotional for me to be in a place where occupation was visible and in front of my face. The day started off at a rally across from where Syrian land is occupied, on one side were the Syrians within Syria and the other where Syrians are living in occupied Syria. I never witnessed something like that before – the emotions and the words really go to me. All of a sudden, I realized tears running down my face and nothing could really comfort me at that point. The emotions I felt cannot be described, the scene and being there were so real. I felt just as patriotic as the Syrians on that mountain; it was an experience I will never forget.

After that, we had the amazing opportunity to speak with the mayor of Quneitra and see the actual border between Syria and Palestine / Israel. That was very emotional as well and really hit home for me. I have studied this conflict since the age of 15 and I majored in political science in college and have my masters in Global Affairs, but to read it in books and to see it in person are two different things. The emotions that hit me were indescribable, and I felt actual physical pain that day. It was a day I will never forget, and it just deepens my pride of being Arab and of being American, because I realize that living in America I am truly free. I have no restrictions to places I can and cannot go. That makes me happy that I am able to do that, but saddens me that others are not allowed to have those same God given rights. I look forward for more moments on this trip that make such an impact and really change me.

-Mae Ramadan, 2010 AMLN participant

At our first lesson, we sat down and slowly went through the numbers. He would say the word, ask me to repeat and then write it in Arabic for me. Arabic script is quite beautiful with curls, loops, and dots but none of them have a concrete sound or meaning in my mind. For all I know, it is the writing of a five-year-old as she pretends to be an adult and write English in cursive. Her masterpiece could have been Arabic.

At times during the teaching session, I felt like I had the mind of a goldfish. Someone once told me goldfish can hold information for only 5 seconds. This is exactly what I had experienced. We would move from one number to the next but as soon as we moved on I would forget the last one. Adib would ask me to read the previous numbers but the letters were meaningless.

Rest assured I confidently confess that I am not a goldfish. As we continued on, the once foreign symbols began to hold meaning in my mind. Several letters began to pop off the page and I was able to transform them into a definite sound. It was silly how excited I got when I was able to look at a doodle and give it implication.

My second Arabic lesson came in the midst of eating and a late night of talking. Adib and several of his friends have been participating in the program and often accompany our group to various functions around the city. One particular night we had arrived at a restaurant for dinner around 8:30pm and the meal got dragged on until past midnight. After two and a half hours of chit chat, my eyes were getting sleepy so I decided to pull out my scratch papers from the previous Arabic lesson. Adib was conveniently sitting across from me so we went to work. The goal of the night: learn the Arabic alphabet.

I have a new respect for first graders. Learning the forms and sounds of letters is quite difficult. The pen felt quite awkward on the page as Adib walked me through the 28 symbols of the Arabic alphabet and had me practice writing. I would look at the character he gracefully etched and then with great deliberation and much concentration I would copy it next to his while repeating the sound. By the end of the night, I had uncovered the tip of the iceberg while acknowledging the bulk of information I still had to learn.

Literacy is something I have taken for granted. I did not realize how much I rely on reading and writing in everyday life. In Syria, this skill made me realize how crucial this ability is. Although I feel helpless now, with the help of Adib, we will slowly develop this skill once again. I am excited to exclaim the newest facet to my identity: illiterate student learning to read and write in a foreign country with a native speaker with knowledge and motivation.

-Leanne VanRemortel, 2010 AMLN participant

Although I am still very far from experiencing war myself, I feel after visiting the city of Quneitra I have taken strides towards reality. This Syrian city was taken in war by Israel and completely destroyed. After several years of occupation, Syria launched an attack and regained the land. Quneitra is still under Syrian control but is undistinguishable from the city of the past.

As the bus brought the group into the city I was shown a face of destruction that I had been unacquainted to. Under Israeli control, the entire city was evacuated, pulled apart by tractors, and leveled by bulldozers. Only a handful of buildings were left standing. I watched out my window as a sea of cement rubble passed by, where hopelessness and desertion seeped from every crack.

The bus came to a stop at one of the only still-standing buildings. Bullet holes scarred the walls, gouges were left where cement should have been and the two-story structure was threatening collapse. Despite the unstableness of the building, I was permitted to enter. As I walked up the stairs, I felt the pang of irony as I read the building’s sign and learned it had been the hospital of Quneitra. A building dedicated to preserving life had fallen to the hands of war.

Turning from the building, I walked along the edge of a cement wall and felt a shard of pain as I looked over a field enclosed in barbed wire. I was staring over an active mine field. It was unreal to think that if I were to walk across the field I could potentially activate a set of explosions. This was something I had only been exposed to in the movies. It lacked every aspect of glamour given by film and I literally felt the weight of conflict.

I stood there for a while and just took it all in. Fear was a companion crouching at my side while my mind was trying to reconstruct a picture for war. Standing amidst the outcomes of such terror made the description much more real. The emotions that accompanied this were difficult to bear. As an onlooker, I feel blessed that I am able to remove myself from the danger but feel pain for the participants that have this as a way of life. I do not want to imagine what it must be like day in and day out living in such turmoil. As I sit writing, I still feel that heaviness and know that this overwhelming emotion will always be associated with war.

Enlightenment is often pleasurable but this experience was quite different. From visiting Quneitra, I have been given a glimpse of the intensity of destruction. This incidence has forever changed how I view war. Although I have not experienced combat first hand or lived in an area under attack, I now have been given an experience that allows me to picture it in a way that more closely parallels truth; a truth that would have been impossible to understand on my own a week ago in the comfort of my own home and country.

-Leanne VanRemortel, 2010 AMLN participant

Albeit for an instant, what happened next made me rethink my prospective career as a diplomat. One of my group members asked the governor about whether school curriculums in Aleppo were respectful to the different opinions, religions, and backgrounds among the student population with a preface of her Jewish-American background. I’m not sure if it was due to poor translation and omissions on behalf of the translator, but the governor branched off from that topic to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. I was thankful to our program director, Rami, for assisting with the translation so we can be on the same page with respect to the discussion. It was at that instant that I had a flash forward of me chairing that meeting, which led to my hypothetical, premature, and understudied decision to change my eventual line of work.

Following our meeting with the governor, we met with the Syrian youth of Aleppo. I appreciated that the students were hospitable and eager to share anecdotes and tell us all about their daily lives. I was also grateful to Mae and Ra’uf, who cut their lunch break short to accompany me to the hotel to pick up some medicine when I was not feeling well.

-Hanna Petro, 2010 AMLN participant

Included in this conversation were two Syrian young girls from Aleppo. One was Sana, a young girl in her early 20s and her friend Fatima, in her mid 20s. Sana wore a long sleeves, black top reaching her knees, jeans, and a white hijab. Fatima had on a black top with about 3/4 sleeves, jeans and no head covering. At the question, why do some women cover and others not, Sana allowed Fatima to respond, in which she talked about the tradition in her home. As opposed to Sana, most of the women in Fatima’s house, including her mother, do not veil. Fatima comes from a household similar to mine, where there is no tradition of veiling, which makes the hijab less of a pertinent issue. This is not to say that Sana was forced to hijab or Fatima was forced not to, but it is a question of the tradition one is exposed to. In a setting where majority of the women wear a hijab, it becomes a different context when a young girl must decide whether or not to start wearing a head covering.

For Sana, the hijab was her method of covering an object of desire. The beauty of the hair can be a temptation that the hijab allows to limit to only the husband. This resonated with Cindy as well. Between the four of us conversing, each one adhered to a conscious effort to dress modestly. But this essentially resulted in four different definitions of what it means to be modest. For one that might mean wearing a hijab; for another, this definition included long skirts; and for yet another, loose tops. But each definition is based to some extent on the community and people around us. What is modest for one person may not be for another, yet each live up to “modest” in the context in which they occur. Yes, veiling or not veiling is a choice, but it has a different meaning in each context. Veiling in a context in which no one else does can be an act of rebellion just as the reverse might be the case when one does not veil in a family where most do. But to restrict any definition to one stereotypical behavior, such as all Muslims veil, or all modest dressing includes long pants and sleeves is to overlook the influence of context.

There are at least two sides to any story. Being in the Middle East feels like being caught in the middle of each one of these. It’s like the Japanese movie, Rashomon where you see the same story told through multiple viewpoints, never knowing which is true. But of course the point is that reality itself doesn’t exist. Instead you are just left with each person’s perspectives. We saw this with one of the government officials and his stance on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. He kept insisting that we read history of the conflict to learn “the truth” or “the reality”. But what he calls “reality” is essentially just a perspective of events that he agrees with. And most likely, it will not be a “reality” that the other side buys into.

Another common division in stories comes between public and private. Often the story one portrays in the open is a different version than what gets exhibited in private. Knowing that it might be impossible to get to see the private perspectives, the challenge is when the version you get aligns simply with stereotype. When this happens, one only gets the accepted and expected story. This often occurs when the important and controlling layer of tourism gets added. So on the night of our dinner at a Bedouin tent, I didn’t expect to see either public or private, but the tourist version of Bedouin life. Instead of nomadic herders, we have performers: singing playing, and dancing debka (traditional dance). Rather than gender separation, we have gender mixing, both during eating and dancing. And in place of communal eating while seated on the floor, we have individual plates eating from couches. Not to say this is wrong or bad. Many of the things portrayed about Bedouin life were very accurate and resonated with my experiences interacting with some Bedouins while living in Jordan. But, for a first time visit to the Middle East, it does portray a stereotype or exaggerated “touristy version” of Bedouin life. It would certainly be a shame to leave the Middle East with the tourist story. It may be unrealistic to get the private version, but even the public version would be important to see. It is not meeting select youth at fancy restaurants that helps us as the American counterparts understand life here. It is achieved by spending the day following Syrian youth around, paralleling their routines, entering their homes, helping them cook, visiting their neighbors, and sharing a pot of tea and a chat. This not only shows us a different story, but helps visitors develop their own perspectives based not simply on stereotypes. Even if a “reality” doesn’t exist, we still must do all we can to not only see one side, especially if it is only the touristy, stereotypical version.

-Haleema Welji, 2010 AMLN participant