It's Thursday afternoon, and I am conducting the Musicians Without Borders orchestra in Bethlehem, Palestine. In this free music education programme, 50 children participate in group instrument lessons (violin, oud, qanun and Arabic percussion), choir, social-work group sessions and orchestra twice a week. The children come from Bethlehem, from surrounding refugee camps and villages. The programme includes children who are enrolled in special education schools, and serves mainly girls.
We have a very simple rule during the orchestra lessons: when a child has an important question related to the music or rehearsal, they raise their hand, pointing one finger in the air. When a visit to the toilet is urgent, two fingers go up. This way I don't need to stop the music; I can just make a gesture to the child to show that permission is granted.
We are rehearsing Mawteni (‘My Homeland’), a beautiful, well-known song, when one of the girls playing the oud raises her hand. I ask Selma (aged 8) if it's really important, because I want to continue playing and I am afraid I will lose the children's attention and concentration if we stop for another question. She nods. Her question is really important.
‘Tfaddali, go ahead, ask your question,’ I say. ‘Miss, when will the war end?’
Projects in Palestine and Jordan
I have lived in Palestine since 2008 and joined Musicians Without Borders (MWB) in 2009. After years of gaining experience and following training, I became a senior trainer and the regional programme manager in the Middle East. Raised in the Netherlands and educated as a cellist, I combine my work as a performer and cello teacher with my work for MWB. In addition to the supportive community that MWB is, I love its community-based approach of developing and implementing programmes. Always listening to the needs, ideas and requests of the community, the diverse projects have a good chance to succeed. This has led to music projects in the Middle East such as rap workshops, establishing a recording studio in a refugee camp, workshops and performances in schools with more than 400 children performing at the same time, music leadership training for teachers, social workers and musicians, training in Music as Therapy (in cooperation with Music as Therapy International), percussion ensembles and music workshops for deaf children.
I'm going to highlight two of our current programmes: Bara'em Ghirass, the free music education scheme described earlier, and Manjali, another community-music programme, based in Al-Karak, Jordan.
‘We cannot change the hardships our students face, but we can support them to become strong, creative, caring citizens to deal with the tough situation around them’ – Photo: courtesy Musicians Without Borders / Ghirass Cultural Center, BethlehemBara'em Ghirass
The name Bara'em Ghirass doesn't translate very well into English; roughly speaking, it means ‘buds of (tree) saplings’. In Arabic, the name represents hope, growth, new life, and development of something beautiful. Our partners, Ghirass Cultural Center, have a history of sumud – resilience and steadfastness – and offer children a wide range of activities, including arts and crafts, parkour, chess, dabke (traditional Palestinian dance), movement and games, and remedial teaching. They were unable to start a music programme because of the high costs, and after several joint activities they asked MWB to implement a long-term music programme.
We cannot change the hardships our students face on a daily basis, but we can support them to become strong, creative, caring citizens to deal with the tough situation around them. Through teaching, practising and playing music, we focus on listening, mutual respect, teamwork and creativity. Our students learn to take responsibility – for themselves, for each other and for their environment.
Peer teaching
All our lessons are taught in groups, and we employ an effective method of peer teaching. Because we mix children of different ages and abilities, the children are used to supporting each other when needed. When explaining something to each other, they use a different kind of language than the adults, the music teachers, and are often better understood by the new student. Because they recently went through the same process of learning a new instrument, the children know well how to distinguish between important and less important skills in order to play music in the orchestra.
For example, when we have a new percussion student in the orchestra, I let one of the more advanced students sit on the right of the percussion row, a little bit in front of the other students. This student will position her chair in a way that she can still see me, the conductor, but also see her peers.
The new student will sit in the row with the others, positioning his chair so he can focus on the leading child instead of on me. I will place another advanced student next to him so that she can help him in case needed. This way, I can concentrate on leading the complete orchestra without worrying about the new student, who is taken care of by his peers. He has someone next to him helping him with posture and technique, and he has someone in front of him showing him the different rhythms and speed while playing. The students helping the new student feel ownership and the responsibility of the percussion group, and they increase their self-confidence while improving their own playing skills by teaching others.
‘Miss, will you be there as well?’
Amin, one of the violin students, asks me if I will be there for our first concert. Being the conductor of the orchestra, I thought it was a given that I would be present: ‘Yes, of course, I will be there. I have to conduct the orchestra, right?’
‘Ah, ok, I was worried you wouldn't come’, replied Amin, ‘because without you I don't know when to start or stop playing!”’
At first, I felt happy. My ego took the stage. Look, I'm needed: this child needs me to show him when to start and stop playing – my work is important. But then I told my ego to take a step back so that I could observe what was really happening here. In this child's life, it's completely normal that people do not show up. It's normal that people are suddenly not there for him, because they are arrested, on strike, stuck at one of the many checkpoints, or killed. In the life of this child, stability is rare and chaos is default. So yes, why would he expect me to be there? With this simple question, he taught me so much about his life and the context in which my students live.
Bara'em Ghirass doesn't just offer free music education. The programme strives to offer these children a little bit of stability in the midst of violence and occupation. Although many programmes had to stop after 7 October in 2023, we managed to continue. There are days that we cannot teach due to general strikes or mourning days, and some days are just too dangerous to reach the centre. We lost a few students because they were not able to leave their village during the many ongoing curfews.
It's Thursday again and after tuning all the instruments, I want to start the orchestra rehearsal.
‘Miss, I have really good news to tell you – they gave us the release date for my father!’
Like many of our students, Nura has a family member in jail. I tell her that I'm really happy to hear that they received his release date (although I am actually sad that her dad is in prison – again) and ask her when he will be released. Nura is a sweet 11-year-old violin student with some learning challenges who needs extra support in school.
‘I forget the date’, she says, ‘but something like in six months!’
I tell her to remind us when the date is near so that we can celebrate together. I add that it must be difficult without her father at home. ‘It's fine, I got used to it,’ she says; ‘last time he spent seven years in prison.’
Manjali
‘Manjali’ is a joint project between Musicians Without Borders and Tajalla for Music and Arts Society, our Jordanian partners. The word refers to the opening of a traditional folksong celebrating the sickle, a harvesting tool, sung by harvesters during the wheat harvest.
Here, there's an important back story. Tajalla did extensive research on traditional songs belonging to specific communities. Through interviewing and recording the elderly in isolated villages, they collected unique music material. Musicians wrote down the lyrics and notation and created a choir method: ana swotun (‘I am my voice’). This method is now used in the same villages, to teach the children how to sing the traditional songs from each others’ cultures.
After gaining popularity and the trust of the villages, connecting with different generations, the programme was ready to expand. In Al-Karak, a two-hour drive from the capital Amman on a dusty road through the desert, people welcomed Musicians Without Borders as part of a joint pilot project.
Now called Manjali, the programme uses the same repertoire but adds musical instruments. The teachers have to come all the way from Amman, as there is only one music teacher in Al-Karak. Through this programme, the children have access to free music education and connect with their heritage. Each song has a story and is connected to agriculture, nature, weddings, and other specific life events. In a world where children are spending so much time online, Manjali provides our students with a fresh breeze of real connection.
