Showing posts with label compassion. Show all posts

Friday, October 9, 2026

"Art can play an important role in supporting children’s healthy development during conflicts and emergencies." UNRWA works

Friends Lareen (left) and Layan (right) exhibited their artwork at UNRWA’s Asmaa Shelter in Gaza City. © June 2026 UNRWA PhotoThe children's art was exhibited in five temporary spaces across the Gaza Strip. © June 2026 UNRWA PhotoA total of 250 children

UNRWA

@UNRWA

Through art, Lareen and Layan are finding ways to express their thoughts, hopes and emotions.

They were among 1,000 children in #Gaza who took part in UNRWA-supported art activities that provided a safe and encouraging space for creativity and self-expression.

With support from the European Union, these activities help children explore their talents and share their stories.

Read the full story: unrwa.org/newsroom/photo

#UNRWAworks

#FundUNRWA

https://x.com/UNRWA/status/2108561074555424976

[AS ALWAYS PLEASE GO TO THE LINK TO READ GOOD ARTICLES (or quotes or watch videos) IN FULL: HELP SHAPE ALGORITHMS (and conversations) THAT EMPOWER DECENCY, DIGNITY, JUSTICE & PEACE... and hopefully Palestine]

02 September 2026

A steady sound of voices fills UNRWA’s Asmaa shelter-turned-exhibition space in Beach Camp in Gaza City. As people move through the crowded room, they pause to smile, point, and take photos of the colourful artwork that brightens the once-white walls. Standing among them are 11-year-old friends Lareen and Layan. The young students-turned-artists proudly show off their posters and upcycled cardboard figures.

"I love drawing flowers," says Layan. "One day, I want to become an architect."

Alongside 1,000 other children living in UNRWA shelters across the Gaza Strip, the young friends have participated in art activities organised by the Agency. Under the supervision and guidance of UNRWA psychosocial counsellors, the students have learned how to express their thoughts, aspirations, and emotions through art, creating posters, drawings, artistic models, and sculptures.

"We were so happy to participate. We collected things from around us and learned how to turn them into something beautiful. We made new friends and spent time together in a healthy environment, away from the destruction around us," says Lareen, who is among the 250 children selected to exhibit their art in one of the five temporary exhibition spaces across the Gaza Strip.

The art activities and exhibitions were made possible through funding from European Union Humanitarian Aid, which provided the paint, paper, and other materials needed for drawing, colouring, and crafting, as well as the psychosocial support that helped create a safe and encouraging environment for the participants.

Art can play an important role in supporting children’s healthy development during conflicts and emergencies. Through art, they learn how to express complex emotions they might otherwise find difficult to articulate, while strengthening their confidence and fostering a sense of normalcy. For children in the Gaza Strip, opportunities to learn, play, and express themselves have been disrupted by more than two years of war, repeated displacement, and the loss of loved ones.

Wael, an UNRWA focal point for Mental Health and Psychosocial Support in the Gaza Strip, has witnessed how the art activities have made a difference.

“The children transformed their feelings, experiences, and aspirations into powerful artworks that speak of both their struggles and their hope for a better future. The initiative gave them a voice, while strengthening their well-being and helping them rebuild hope in the most challenging circumstances.”

The project also attracted older children eager to develop their artistic talents.

For 16-year-old UNRWA school graduate Khadija, living in the Asmaa shelter in Beach Camp, art became a means of documenting the realities faced by children in the Gaza Strip. Having lost both her home and her brother during the war, she used her artwork to reflect on the experiences that continue to shape her community.

"I saw a child whose arms had been amputated playing hopscotch in the street," she recalls. "These are the real losses in life, the moments of joy that disappear. We have been deprived of everything. I want to express the suffering of the children..." READ MORE https://www.unrwa.org/newsroom/photos/paint-paper-and-pencils-help-children-gaza-strip-cope-trauma-and-loss

Smaller than a Mouse- a poem by Naomi Shihab Nye published in her most recent book "Sidekick" 2026

Smaller than a Mouse

We demonstrated on a steaming day,

carrying signs,

five hundred thousand people

in the streets of New York

saying no to war,

gathering crowds for blocks and miles,

crush and press of world's religions

and secular codes, multi-flavored

WE SHALL NOT KILL

and the next day our story,

the story of saying no to war,

was written up in a three-sentence news item

on the back of the front section of the New York Times

smaller than the story of a mouse found

in a chain restaurant soup.

This is the truth.

Poem by award winning Palestinian American poet Naomi Shihab Nye published in her most recent book "Sidekick" 2026

https://boaeditions.org/book/sidekick/

Praise for Naomi Shihab Nye

“On every page, Shihab Nye's insistent call is the same: people, all people, deserve to live safe and healthy lives, free from fear and violence. She mourns, rages, takes politicians to task, but always lands on the side of compassion.” —Shelf Awareness

Naomi Shihab Nye is the author and/or editor of more than thirty volumes including six collections of poetry from BOA Editions: Sidekick (2026), Red Suitcase (1994), Fuel (1998), You & Yours (2005), Transfer (2011), and The Tiny Journalist (2019). She has been a Lannan Fellow, a Guggenheim Fellow and a Witter Bynner Fellow. Her numerous awards include a Lavan Award from the Academy of American Poets, the Isabella Gardner Poetry Award from BOA, the Lee Bennett Hopkins Poetry Award, the Patterson Poetry Prize, four Pushcart Prizes, the Robert Creeley Prize the Betty Prize from Poets House for her service to poetry, and the Lon Tinkle Award for Lifetime Achievement from the Texas Institute of Letters. She served on the Board of Chancellors of the Academy of American Poets from 2010–2015, and in May 2019 she was named the 2019–2021 Young People's Poet Laureate by the Poetry Foundation.

Wednesday, September 23, 2026

25 Million Stitches - One Stitch, One Refugee; Raising awareness of the global refugee crisis through Art

Refugee is a person who has been forced to leave their country in order to escape war, persecution, or natural disaster. The number of global refugees has been doubling roughly every decade. —Panel by Penny Peters, Washington

From Kindergarten to Graduate students, schools from Dominican Republic, Canada, and the U.S. from 5 year old to 91 year olds, 3 generations in a family, groups of diverse faith organizations generously donated their time to build our community and express their support for the refugees

If you are interested in booking this show, please contact at: 25millionstitches@gmail.com

25 Million Stitches

One Stitch, One Refugee; Raising awareness of the global refugee crisis through Art

[AS ALWAYS PLEASE GO TO THE LINK TO READ GOOD ARTICLES (or quotes) IN FULL: HELP SHAPE ALGORITHMS (and conversations) THAT EMPOWER DECENCY, DIGNITY, JUSTICE & PEACE... and hopefully Palestine, or at least fair and just laws and policies here, there- and everywhere]

What happened to America’s compassion | Joyce M. Davis in The Patriot News, Pennsylvania

Detail of one of "25 Million Stitches" panels on display at ArtRage GalleryArtRage Gallery- Each individual embroidered panel represents a portion of the millions of displaced people worldwide, with every stitch symbolizing a single refugee life. https://www.25millionstitches.com/

What happened to America’s compassion

By Joyce M. Davis Outreach & Opinion Editor. The Patriot News, Harrisburg Pennsylvania

Sometimes the simplest questions can provoke the deepest thought.

When American leaders talk of helping people in need around the world, why do they focus on how it will benefit the United States instead of how it will benefit humanity?

That was the essence of Holly Leggett’s question that came at the end of the International Peace Forum at Gettysburg College this weekend.

Why do members of Congress and President Trump’s hand-picked department secretaries think Americans voters want an ROI for every smidgen of humanitarian assistance they send around the world?

Why can’t Americans look at humanity and see that alone as reason enough to help relieve suffering?

These are profound questions that get at the very heart of America’s current moral dilemma.

What happened to the compassion that once sent food to starving Germans after World War II? What happened to the American values that once treated even former enemies with kindness because they were human beings?

What happened to that shining city on a hill... READ MORE https://www.pennlive.com/opinion/2026/09/what-happened-to-americas-compassion-joyce-m-davis.html?gift=9475d54a-e92a-486d-9b65-aaf900034170

Friday, September 18, 2026

“What Are You Doing to My Brother?” A true story by Mike Hanini Odetalla (Abu Odeh) ... Here was an elderly Orthodox rabbi, aboard a plane filled largely with Jewish passengers headed to Israel, publicly kissing the hand of a Palestinian Muslim and calling him brother.

Good Morning! Rumaan Falasteen (#Palestinian #Pomegranates)... photo from Mike Hanini Odetalla

“What Are You Doing to My Brother?”

In October of 2007, my mother (AY) became ill and was hospitalized. I dropped everything and flew home, taking Lufthansa through Frankfurt to Tel Aviv.

The connecting flight was a packed 747, overwhelmingly filled with Jewish passengers headed to Israel.

I had specifically requested an aisle seat. But when I reached my row, I found an elderly Jewish woman sitting in it. Beside her was a very religious-looking man in his seventies.

As I started toward my seat, he immediately stood up.

“No! No!”

I understood what was happening. From what I knew of Orthodox Jewish religious practice, I figured he was uncomfortable with an unrelated man sitting beside his wife.

And being a Muslim, I understood the concern.

So rather than make an issue of it, I offered to take the window seat and let him sit in the middle—a “buffer” between his wife and me.

Problem solved.

Or so I thought.

Once we were seated, he began speaking to me in broken English.

“What is your name?”

“Where are you going?”

“Jerusalem,” I told him. “Palestine. The city of my birth.”

He looked at me.

Then, to my absolute surprise, this man who had been struggling with English answered me in perfect Arabic:

“I too was born in Al-Quds.”

And just like that, everything changed.

As we talked, I learned that he had emigrated to Australia in the late 1960s and was a chief rabbi there.

I told him why I was traveling—that my mother was sick and hospitalized and I was rushing home to see her.

He promised me that he would pray for her throughout the flight and again as soon as his feet touched Jerusalem.

A Muslim Palestinian and an Orthodox Jewish rabbi, both born in Jerusalem, sitting together on a 747 somewhere between Frankfurt and the city we both called home.

But our seating adventure wasn't over.

As more passengers boarded, an Orthodox Jewish family arrived. The mother and children were seated directly in front of us. The father's assigned seat, unfortunately, was the window seat I was now occupying.

And he wanted it.

He made a fuss and refused to sit elsewhere because he wanted to remain near his family. Even the rabbi's pleas couldn't persuade him. Eventually he called the flight crew and demanded his assigned seat.

The rabbi and his wife were visibly distraught.

So I stood up.

“Find me another seat,” I told the flight crew. “Anywhere. Let them stay together.”

Eventually they found one.

As I prepared to leave, the rabbi stood.

I extended my hand to shake his goodbye.

Instead, he took my hand—

and kissed it.

Then he kissed it again.

And he hugged me.

In Arabic, he said:

“Thank you, my dear brother.”

The cabin seemed to go silent.

Here was an elderly Orthodox rabbi, aboard a plane filled largely with Jewish passengers headed to Israel, publicly kissing the hand of a Palestinian Muslim and calling him brother.

You could hear a pin drop.

I thought that was the end of our story.

It wasn't.

When we landed at Ben Gurion Airport, I encountered something much more familiar to me: I was pulled aside and being led away for “further questioning.”

Normally, that could mean four or five hours of security questioning for me.

Then suddenly, the rabbi appeared.

He hurried toward us, took my hand again and kissed it.

Then he confronted the security personnel:

“What are you doing to my BROTHER?”

Apparently, having a chief rabbi vouch for you carries some weight.

They let me go.

It remains one of the few times I can remember passing through Ben Gurion without spending hours being questioned.

And there is one detail that matters.

In Palestinian and Arab culture, kissing someone's hand is among the deepest gestures of respect. This rabbi didn't know whether I needed his respect. He didn't know whether anyone around us would understand what that gesture meant to me.

But he did it anyway.

Twice on the airplane.

And once more when I needed someone to stand beside me.

Nearly twenty years later, I don't remember his politics. I don't remember everything we discussed on that long flight.

But I remember his Arabic.

I remember his prayers for my sick mother.

I remember his lips touching my hand.

And above everything else, I remember one word:

“Brother.”

Sometimes humanity doesn't announce itself with speeches, flags or slogans.

Sometimes it finds you at 35,000 feet, in the person you were supposed to see as the “other,” and quietly reminds you that we were brothers all along.

~ Mike Odetalla (Seems like a lifetime ago)

Grandfather. Historian. Story teller. Dreamer. Witness. Palestinian. Human. Cancer survivor

Monday, September 14, 2026

"There is something historically inevitable in this. Immigration from countries and backgrounds against which the US has waged military and ideological war eventually yields not a cowed assimilation, but a sort of political cosmopolitanism – kryptonite for American exceptionalism."

Zohran Mamdani after the ceremony to mark the 25th anniversary of the September 11 2001 attacks in New York, 11 September 2026. Photograph: Adam Gray/Reuters

The US right still paints Muslims as the ‘enemy’. But they are fighting for a brighter future for Americans

Progressive politicians such as Zohran Mamdani offer answers to the bitter post-9/11 legacy of failures at home and abroad

Nesrine Malik

Mon 14 Sep 2026

Twenty-five years after 9/11, two pieces of journalism, describing two different phenomena in contemporary New York, tell us a great deal about a city, and indeed a world, caught between two eras. In one, New York Magazine dives into “Habibi City”, a New York where a “cultural shift is underway, led by a generation of New Yorkers coming into its own”. This new generation is labelled as originating in “SWANA” – south-west Asia and north Africa, a region that “includes countries from Palestine to Iran to Sudan”. In the other, Vanity Fair describes calls for Zohran Mamdani to not attend the 9/11 memorial ceremony as partly founded in “inchoate, emotional” impulses, that see “the city’s first Muslim mayor as a stand-in for the 19 Muslims who hijacked four planes and turned them into deadly weapons, part of the ‘them’ who attacked ‘us’.”

Together they capture what has changed over a generation, and what remains stubbornly the same. Members of a diaspora of Muslim background are indeed breaking through and accumulating, as New York Magazine says, “clout”. They are no longer simply a fixture of bodegas and halal carts, but of Saturday Night Live, upmarket dining, entertainment and politics too. Mamdani is both the expression of that cohort and the catalyst of its recognition as an emerging force. They care deeply for their local communities but also for those in Gaza and beyond.

I use the descriptor “of Muslim background” rather than “Muslim” because this diasporic identity is a diverse one that is rooted in a religion but expands to encompass everyone from the practising to those for whom Islam is a cultural totem.The capaciousness of this heritage is demonstrable in its integration – without compromise – into mainstream American society. Mamdani and the Democratic Senate nominee for Michigan, Abdul El-Sayed, recuse themselves from the rote fealty to American glory and dare to point out both US support for Israel and the calamitous outcomes of the “war on terror” in the Middle East.

This is the result of this new generation of Americans coming from an immigrant background that has cultivated a less parochial and supremacist view of the US. There is something historically inevitable in this. Immigration from countries and backgrounds against which the US has waged military and ideological war eventually yields not a cowed assimilation, but a sort of political cosmopolitanism – kryptonite for American exceptionalism.... READ MORE https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2026/sep/14/9-11-anniversary-islamophobia-us-politics-zohran-mamdani

AS ALWAYS PLEASE GO TO THE LINK TO READ GOOD ARTICLES (or quotes) IN FULL: HELP SHAPE ALGORITHMS (and conversations) THAT EMPOWER DECENCY, DIGNITY, JUSTICE & PEACE... and hopefully Palestine, or at least fair and just laws and policies here, there- and everywhere]

Annie's New Letters (& notes)

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