Give Peace a Chance

For 17 years, Jewish and Arab children have happily attended the same school in a tiny hilltop village in Israel, called Oasis of Peace. But now increasing violence threatens even this small symbol of hope.

Jane Logan reports for Oasis of Peace in Israel.

From beneath a canopy of tall pines come the shouts and squeals of young children, who dart up and down wooden climbing frames and soar into the air on purple swings. Groups of older children stand around talking.

This unremarkable sight is, in fact, an extraordinary achievement. Only when you listen carefully do the sounds of Arabic and Hebrew become distinguishable. This is one of the few places in Israel where Jewish and Arab children play together and banter freely in each other's language. In the playground there seems to be genuine, carefree equality among the children. Anybody who has spent any time in Israel and the occupied territories will appreciate the rarity of this nonchalance among Jews, Muslims and Christians.

As the hope of peace between Israelis and Palestinians has turned to bitter conflict, the village of Neve Shalom/Wahat al-Salam is struggling to remain an Oasis of Peace - the English translation of its Hebrew and Arabic names. Known simply as Neve Shalom, the community of 20 Arab and 20 Jewish families, living in a bucolic setting on a hill halfway between Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, is determined to act as an example of coexistence for two peoples who have lived in conflict for the past 100 years.

The villagers are accustomed to living in a fish bowl. A little girl with a large backpack and floppy hat instantly identifies a visitor as yet another journalist who has come to see how this utopian experiment is faring after the intifada, or Palestinian uprising, in September 2000. She skips up and asks what the story is about. Hearing that it is about the village, she throws her head back and turns on her heel, chanting, "Arab Jew Arab Jew Arab Jew. Who cares? That's boring."

A gaggle of children approaches Dianna Shaloufi-Razek, the Arab principal of the school (there is also a Jewish principal). They hold up a wounded bird and ask her what they should do with it. They speak in Hebrew and she answers in Arabic. It is an impressive exchange.
Shaloufi-Razek says that after the intifada last year, the teachers held daily meetings to discuss their emotions. Each teacher would then sit with the children to let them express their fears and their anger. Shaloufi-Razek says, "After the second week the children said, 'Enough! We know you want us to talk about what is going on. But let us get on with life.' And that's what we did."

But the increasing violence in Israel has come as a devastating blow to the advocates of peace and may well prove to be a turning point for Neve Shalom. The village and the school can no longer remain immune to the conflict that has killed more than 500 people since last September, shattering the hope of the 1993 Oslo Peace Accords. Words such as "frustration," "exhaustion" and "pessimism" are expressed over and over by teachers and other members of the village. Deaths, other atrocities and the political nuances of the conflict are felt throughout. It is just 48 hours since a Palestinian suicide bomber blew himself up at a Tel Aviv discotheque, killing 20 Jewish teenagers; a pall of depression hangs in the air. Children play at intifada, throwing pine cones at one another and building imaginary roadblocks.

Still, even at times of such hopelessness, the people of Neve Shalom believe it is important to provide a ray of hope. "Life is not an oasis here. But the kids give us hope to continue," says Shaloufi-Razek. She remembers feeling wary about whether the Oslo Accords would bring peace. "But the kids here really enjoyed being part of it. They loved to draw doves of peace and the flags of both nations." She adds sadly, "They taught me to give it a chance."

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