After three hours at a checkpoint from the West Bank, many in the group seemed quite serious getting off the bus at the Tel Baruch beach. The entire expanse of sand and water was enveloped by the white-hot glow of a hard-hitting sun. I was partly blinded by the light, partly preoccupied: I wasn’t entirely sure how to conduct myself if I heard a child say, “The Jews took everything,” as they took in the exquisite Mediterranean coastline, speaking from memories of loss inherited.
The sea, though, immediately washed away such theorization of the mind. Everyone was breaking into smiles! I wonder how many years it had been since they’d seen the sea, if at all.
Soon, kids and adults alike tumbled with the waves in their inner tubes. Some of the boys and I threw around a beach ball, often hitting people on the head by mistake, making the laughter grow exponentially. We also played a game where I held them by their ankles, sending them gushing through the water like they were tubing.
A crowd favorite was the moment when one of the mothers brought out a darbouka into the water. Many of the women around her clapped and danced, while a boy showed me how to clap, stomp, and shoulder-pump in the style of Dabke. It was magical to see everyone enjoy Palestinian music and culture from inside the refreshing waves like that.
I also showed several children how to do a water pistol with one hand and two hands. I wished that the next time they get the opportunity to visit a beach, they’ll be able to prank their friends and family by shooting water with full ease.
While most of us didn’t speak each other’s language, the waves and all that we can do with the water served as a common language and common joy.
I believe that projects such as this urgently need to increase. First of all, all children here deserve a childhood filled with the beach and fun in the sun. In addition, these projects make us realize the fundamental things that can bring us together.
Thoughts that it may be an entire year till the same children would be back threatened to beat me down. So instead I tried with all my might to hope that such projects will cumulatively reopen the gates one day – for people to mix and mingle again as fellow people.
The Medford Pact 