Aude Moug

‎Hey, how are you, what is your name, what are you doing in Palestine?‎

I’m a volunteer and I’m here to listen to people’s stories, and to tell mine too.‎

‎Why?‎

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Because people, even more in Palestine need ears and time to express what their feelings are, ‎deep inside their heart. Ghina needs hugs, Ali needs to practice his English and randomly give ‎his opinion about everything, Nisreen (my cousin) wants to give me a family, Ramsis needs to ‎learn how to use his face muscles to express feelings, Najah is glad to have an assistant, Hiba ‎wants to share food and lovely time, Ala needs to calm down, Tala and Izzedine want to ‎speak more and practice their French, Jihad wants to make me discover his mountains, Aisha ‎definitely needs more time to talk with me (and it’s reciprocal), Saleem needs somebody to be ‎proud of him, Amro needs Germany. ‎

I shared loads of wonderful and unforgettable moments with them during three weeks, and ‎they brought me what I missed in Europe: their real personality twenty-four hours a day, ‎seven days a week. They really listened, and I listened to them in return. I hope they will feel ‎better anyways.‎

I came alone, and now, I would feel ready to settle down with my new family, like Abraham ‎did several years ago… I became the daughter and the grand-daughter of every mother, cousin ‎of all the cousins. I found roots and deep dreams buried in my mind. I figured the dream that ‎I now wish to follow, after being unsatisfied with my studies for three years (we all do ‎mistakes by not knowing ourselves). I learned how to be patient, even more than before. I ‎learned how to teach something I had not really prepared myself for, and I learned how to ‎bring enthusiasm and energy to the students after six minutes of concentration (unbelievably ‎hard, you can’t imagine). I learned from the teachers in the French Department, from a writer ‎who came to give a workshop, from kids to adults.‎

‎How is Palestine? Did you enjoy it?‎

Third and last article but I will say it again. I will not forget this awesome landscape of Nablus ‎and its surroundings. I will always be amazed by the quiet olive trees on the hill of Sebastia ‎village, which ask for nothing but peace and also the outstanding 360 degrees’ view on the ‎top. I will still look at the buildings scattered on the opposite side of the mountains. It made ‎me think of some Lego pieces we did not know where to put in the big city, so we threw them ‎away everywhere on the grassy ground. Invitations, I received dozens of them; kind ‎intentions that go straight to my heart. I will miss the true friends I made here, and every ‎single view of Nablus, hearing the echo of Adan on Ali’s roof, the city by sunset and then by ‎night, the button for the hot water, the cats, the copybooks spread in every corners at the ‎university campus, students and teachers, all of them are lovely.‎

I saw the streets late at night. Empty streets, closed shops, doors shut. Cleaning service ‎working. I saw the backstage of a daily market overabundant in its details tidied in an ‎impressive quietness. No horning, just drivers who wants to enjoy the empty streets trying to ‎reach a hundred and sixty miles per hour in thirty seconds. You don’t know how many more ‎details I could write.‎

It’s awesome to be aware that life is running by so fast, but that people do not have any strict ‎timetable, like “we” do in Europe. That makes me realize a major thing, that might be ‎impossible to do when I will be back: choose one main and important task to do a day, and ‎arrange my extra time to organize meetings with friends that want to see you, that are ‎available, that are hanging around and are free to talk and take a coffee, or even time to call ‎your mum and say Je t’aime maman.‎

Oddly (Audely), my best evening was in this hostel, while I was helping a good friend with ‎his homework, while I was breathing the acrid smell of cigarette, around night people ‎watching “Barcelona-unknown” game (we just want Barça to win), sharing a few words with ‎the Palestinian Dinosaur, inventing stories again, like a child who wants to have fun.‎

Of course I will badly miss Nablus and its people, and I will be miserable and sad without ‎meeting my friends and family every day, and of course I will be back as soon as my projects ‎will allow me to do so. I filled myself up with love, mysterious looks, fantastic encounters and ‎unforgettable food.‎

Though one day I thought, that taking as much love as I could before leaving will help me to ‎survive after such an experience. In fact, it is painful to realize how much you need people and ‎their way of just being themselves, taking care and laughing about anything, and also when ‎these people agree to give you an Arabic class in a park full of children, in a fake wooden car.‎

I will probably be sick of missing you.‎

Finally, for me, Kenafeh will always represent, Nablus, and the friends I met there and much ‎more: sweets, big and small spaces, after one you want more (friends and cakes), the whole ‎Palestine, markets, people in the street, “ashara ashara!!”, “hello where are you from”, mothers ‎cooking, and something that explodes inside your mouth, your brain, your stomach (even if ‎the cooker said: “olala, glucose huh!”).‎

So obviously yes, I will miss the unique and holy Kenafeh. ‎