I sent in an application to Google Sustainability tonight! And believe it or not, 2.5 years after finishing college, it’s my first real job application! I can’t wait to hear back from them. This was a fun letter to write, whatever they decide:
Let me present my first ever formal job application. At age 25, I have hired and fired, managed employees, secured investments, spoken at conferences, made mistakes, enjoyed successes, changed lives, befriended a Mayor, and helped run a summer camp, but I haven’t applied for a job.
I sent in an application to Google Sustainability tonight! And believe it or not, 2.5 years after finishing college, it’s my first real job application! I can’t wait to hear back from them. This was a fun letter to write, whatever they decide:
Let me present my first ever formal job application. At age 25, I have hired and fired, managed employees, secured investments, spoken at conferences, made mistakes, enjoyed successes, changed lives, worked in local government, and helped run a summer camp, but I haven’t applied for a job. When I graduated from college, a $30k fellowship initially delayed the need for a job search. When this fellowship led to the founding of an LLC and two years of startup craziness, that pivotal career moment was postponed further.
Now I come to this point: my career has passed from nascent to fledgling, I’m looking for an awesome job, and I must communicate on paper how an upbringing, an education, world travels, and three years of entrepreneurship have given me a wealth of experience worthy of my generation’s sexiest employer: the one and only Google.
My case for myself? I am a perpetual student with an advanced degree from the school of TED and Audible. I am a thoughtful explorer who asks great questions, constantly seeks understanding, and loves problem-solving.
I hope I’ve inspired in you enough questions to warrant a trip to Mountain View. I’d love to tell you more about Tufts, the Beelzebubs, biodigesters in the West Bank, Rising Green LLC, Holyoke, Camp Owatonna, and a few adventure stories from India and the Middle East. Or we could talk about energy efficiency, food security, clean tech, aquaponics, carbon accounting, resource conservation, gardening, waste management, corporate social responsibility, workforce development, holistic sustainability, and environmental economics.
If you want someone in the Google Sustainability office who has started two businesses, sang in a world-class a cappella group, loves kids, and can dunk a basketball, let’s talk. You’d also get to know a man who’s ready to help Google take the lead on sustainability and communicate its vision to the world.
As you look over GreenLink, this new website with a unique mix of offerings, you may wonder why we have built a site with a major section that focuses on study abroad programs related to the environment. Why study the environment abroad? It’s a good question.
Most students who study abroad find that it enriches their young lives. It introduces them to new sights, sounds, tastes, smells and ideas, which give rise to new interests and ambitions. It teaches them about the diversity of the world, makes them more comfortable around people unlike themselves and gives them a new perspective on their own society. It literally makes the world a bigger place for the student and makes humanity a vast, multifarious community.
For an environmentalist, studying abroad has this impact, but with the added benefit of a more complete sense of environmentalism itself.
Supporting the environment on an international, global scale is completely different from joining the environmental movement in the United States. Here it’s too easy for environmentalism to become centered around symbolic goals like protecting trees and polar bears or fighting big oil or around simple changes like using a Nalgene or switching to fluorescent light bulbs. In contrast, around the world, especially in developing countries, the motives beneath the movement are very different, and they are more urgent. In many places, people feel the effects of their environmental challenges on a daily basis in an unavoidable way. In these localities it’s about health and basic standard of living. On a global scale, it’s about fighting corruption in government, it’s about cooperative resource management, it’s about survival and adaptation and it’s about ethics and social justice.
As international negotiations over climate change – like the COP17 conference beginning in South Africa today – continue to flounder, it becomes increasingly clear that the international initiatives required to protect our shared future cannot succeed without the US adopting domestic policies that will better support efforts at the UN. For the US to pass the legislation that would protect its own population and its neighbors around the globe, it needs citizen demand, and before that political will can be mustered, Americans must better understand their country’s place in the world.
By studying abroad, you become a globally-minded citizen, and you enable yourself to teach those around you how they can contribute to the global environmental movement.
Check back often to the World section of Rising Green and read more stories from students who have studied the environment abroad. If you have learned about the environment while traveling abroad and would like to share your story with us, please submit an article under 500 words to email@example.com.
This post originally appeared at blog.greenlinktufts.com. Presented by the GreenLink team.
Welcome to the new environmental movement.
This blog represents the birth of GreenLink, a force that will change the way people get involved in the environmental movement. What is GreenLink? At its heart, GreenLink aims to connect people with enriching opportunities that will change their perspective of the world and help them discover their place in it.
GreenLink was conceived by Adrian Dahlin, a Tufts University student who got to study abroad twice and fulfill two internships at environmental NGOs before graduating from college. These programs left him with a desire to help other people find similar opportunities, so he built a team, and GreenLink was born.
Like you, we care deeply about our natural environment. We also care about the connection between humanity and its environment, and we know that this relationship is struggling. We see an opportunity, however, and this is where GreenLink comes in. GreenLink aims to accelerate change by educating citizens and equipping them with the power to make a difference. We’re the bridge-builder.
We want to help you study abroad, so that you can learn about other cultures and gain a global, holistic understanding of our environmental challenges. We want to connect you with an internship, so that you can develop your talents and find the kind of work that inspires and invigorates you. We want to help you find a job, so that you can use what you’ve learned to build a career within the green sector and improve our world.
We will help you become a globally-conscious green-collar citizen.
Want to change the world? We know where you can have an impact and find the partners and mentors you’ll need. Regardless of your interests, skills, degree or experience, the environmental sector has need of you. Let us help you find your place.
Visit this blog often for updates about the development of GreenLink. In addition to company news, we’ll publish travel stories, career advice, industry news and other articles from guest writers. If you’d like to write for us, email firstname.lastname@example.org.
Study Abroad → Intern → Get a Job → Serve the Planet
By improving parks and implementing greenways around urban streams, we can create a network of natural space that will support greater biodiversity, protect urban habitat, preserve water resources, and provide vital ecosystem services.
Urban streams are perhaps the natural habitat most vulnerable in the face of development. Increased runoff from areas of reduced infiltration – including parking lots, roofs and manicured lawns – can effect urban waterways in several ways. Rainwater runoff from developed space can alter stream and wetland habitat by increasing sedimentation and by transporting motor oil, industrial chemicals, salt, and other toxins into streams. Within these waterways, plants and animals can die from deadly toxins or simply from changing temperature, pH, mineral content or oxygen content. These changes travel great distances downstream and reach large numbers of aquatic species. Thousands of species live in wetland ecosystems, and thousands of others in surrounding habitats depend on wetlands. Furthermore, the urban parks we see today typically consist of small plots of mowed grass and scattered trees. Such spaces support squirrels and pigeons, but not complex ecosystems.
Higher quality urban parks connected by greenways, or vegetated buffer zones, offer a simple way to shield waterways from harm. Greenways are patches of perennial vegetation allowed to grow on the borders of streams. A greenway should span at least several meters on either side of a waterway. To be most effective, greenways should connect with urban parks to create a substantial quantity of contiguous natural green space within a city.
City and state officials must build larger urban and suburban parks that will support a wide range of wildlife. These eco-friendly parks should lie adjacent to urban waterways and include more brush, native flowers and greater tree diversity. These parks will support much greater biodiversity, thereby mitigating the effect of development, and they will be more attractive for human use. To preserve sensitive habitat, some sections of these parks may be fenced off for limited use by humans. Schools in the community could then use these protected habitats to study flora and fauna at an easily accessible location.
Greenways significantly increase infiltration on the borders of streams, and greater infiltration means less runoff from impervious surfaces will reach urban waterways. Greenways also serve as natural filters for that water, preventing oils, salts, soaps, and other chemicals from contaminating the aquatic ecosystem. Furthermore, greenways combine with streams themselves to create complete ecosystems that allow for the interaction of aquatic and land-based organisms.
Community planners must cultivate greenways, improve the quality of parkland, and fit these changes into a form of development based on high-density construction and real protections for the environment. Only such a development model can meet the needs of a growing, increasingly urbanized world population. Because the 21st century residents of Los Angeles, Lagos, and Mumbai cannot live in nature and will not survive without it, they must find a way to live near it.
Boston’s Mystic River provides a great example of an unhealthy urban stream that would benefit greatly from a greenway. The EPA gave the river a grade of C- for its notoriously poor water quality. In some cities, like Somerville, bare patches of unused land flank the Mystic. These plots of land mostly consist of grass and dirt, and they are seldom used by humans or animals. If more forms of vegetation were allowed to grow here, and especially if this new habitat were fenced off from the recreational fields and roads that border it, a healthy ecosystem could flourish. This greenway would partially protect the Mystic against runoff from the many highways that cross its path.
HISTORY OF PARKS IN THE US
Trees and open space have been incorporated into urban development in the United States since New York’s Central Park was built in the 1850s. Originally, parks were not intended as real pieces of nature. “The naturalness of urban open spaces was antithetical to earlier landscape paradigms,” says historian Rutherford H. Platt (From Commons to Commons: Evolving Concepts of Open Space in North American Cities, 1994). Urban parks were first established as aesthetic touches and as a place “for fresh air and exercise”. They were thought to improve the health of the urban poor. In modern times, psychologists like John F. Dwyer, Herbert W. Schroeder, and Paul H. Gobster still connect park abundance with human health. They say trees promote comfort and relaxation, as well as mental and emotional health (The Deep Significance of Urban Trees and Forests, 1994).
Greenways and high-quality parks can be implemented by cities of all sizes. Virtually every community in the United States has room to increase the quality of its green space.
Cities can start by cleaning up open spaces around urban streams (like the Mystic River example) and allowing native vegetation to grow there. They should also assess which parks and grassy recreational areas are least used, and consider converting these to more natural spaces, especially when they sit adjacent to waterways and other natural areas. All new parks should be placed around streams and lakes, where they can connect with greenways. City governments should enact open space zoning laws that include several classes of parkland. These classes will vary in natural quality and practical purpose. One class should be almost completely left to nature, accessible only for educational and research purposes.
With more nature-friendly land use policies at the local and state levels, we will be able to enjoy beautiful urban parks, bolster the biodiversity of our urban ecosystems, preserve the health of our waterways, and meet our own needs with less harm done to the natural environment.
As our 12 American friends boarded a flight from Amman back to Boston, Ezra and I turned toward the West Bank, ready to implement the planned final stage of our journey. We had spent the last 11 weeks on a whirlwind travel study tour that brought us through Israel, Palestine, and Jordan studying peace and sustainability at the community level. Now, with about two weeks at our disposal, a long list of contacts and ambitious goals, we returned to Bethlehem, prepared to give back to the communities that had taught us about their homeland.
* * *
Ten weeks earlier – fresh off the plane, eyes still wide with wonder – I had met a man named Yair Teller. Yair is a thirty-year-old Israeli born to American parents. He wears long dreadlocks and enjoys attending rainbow gatherings in the States. I met Yair at Israel’s Arava Institute for Environmental Studies, an outstanding school that brings together students from Palestine, Israel, Jordan, the US, and around the world. Yair graduated from Arava a few years ago and now works for the school developing small-scale biodigester technology especially for use by the Bedouin and other poor rural communities of Israel and Palestine. The systems he builds turn manure and water into methane gas for cooking and into nutrient-rich fertilizer. These biodigesters can include a system to filter grey water, so that families with low water resources can recycle the water they use for cleaning and cooking. They can be made from materials readily available in any major town. I got to help Yair build one of these systems for a family of sheep and goat herders in the southern West Bank village of Susya.
A few weeks after meeting Yair, I got a second chance to work with this biogas technology. A friend of a friend set me up with TH Culhane, a biogas expert who was making a brief trip through the West Bank. TH describes himself as an Iraqi-Lebanese-French-German-American. He is a science educator and entertainer who has worked for National Geographic and now runs a project called Solar Cities from his home in Germany. I helped him build a biogas digester for a school in Bethlehem.
With two biogas projects under my belt, I began to look for a way to share this knowledge with my American friends. The opportunity presented itself when our experiential education program brought us very close to Susya. We visited a family of cave-dwellers in a village called Ghwein. They cooked us a delicious traditional meal and served us ceramic cup after ceramic cup of freshly ground Arabic coffee. When we left Ghwein, I arranged with our tour guides to stop in Susya to see the biodigester I had helped build. We made a surprise visit to the family and I explained the system to my friends. When they saw the installation in Susya, it occurred to our Palestinian guides that the biodigester would do a lot of good for the Ghwein family we had just visited. In that moment a plan was born. Ezra and I took note, and weeks later when we returned to Palestine on our own, the plan came to life.
* * *
Bringing biogas to Ghwein started with fund raising. We sent a Facebook message to our group telling them we were going forward with the project and asking for their financial support. Within three days six people had pledged a total of $600, exactly what we needed to buy materials. We called Yair to ask if he could donate a day of his time to lead the project. He agreed without hesitation and sent us a list of materials. We then called Nayef Hashlamoun, one of our tour guides from the first trip to Ghwein. Nayef is president of the Alwatan Center, a non-profit in the major Palestinian town of Hebron that works on peace-building, conflict resolution, and community development in the southern West Bank. He recently retired from a 20-year career as a photojournalist for Reuters. We asked him if he could help us acquire materials and communicate with the community. Nayef agreed, and we set a date to meet and begin planning.
Two days before we were to build the biodigester, Ezra and I rented a car and drove south to prepare. We picked up Nayef in Hebron and continued toward Ghwein and Susya. We spent the day surveying potential sites, talking with families, judging the need for the biogas system, and gauging their interest in the concept. Nayef knew the community well, so he identified two families for us to choose between.
The first family we visited lived on the side of an Israeli settler highway about fifteen minutes from the family that had hosted us and our friends before. The family included a mother and her five children, most of them grown. They owned a few concrete buildings that made up the living quarters, a greenhouse full of vegetables, a herd of sheep, a small outhouse, and a large meetinghouse that served as a women’s center for the surrounding community. This family was not one of the most poor in the area, but Nayef thought it might provide a good location because the women’s center would give the biogas digester exposure to the community and get more families interested in the technology. We sat in their home and drank tea while Nayef explained the concept of biogas and translated our questions about water, livestock, and manure. They explained that they had tried to filter their grey water so that they could use it in the gardens. They poured it through a material like cheesecloth, but this did not sufficiently filter out the soaps and oils, so they could not reuse it. Their experimentation showed, however, that this family would benefit from the biodigester and understand the principles behind it. Ezra and I felt that this would be a great place to introduce the biodigester, but we decided to visit the other family before making a final decision. We jumped in the car and drove down the road to the village of Ghwein itself.
As we moved from one family to the next, Nayef raised an important concern: if we told both families about our plans, the one who did not get the biodigester might be disappointed. He hoped to maintain a relationship with both families, so he wanted to avoid any hurt feelings. We agreed to ask the second family only basic questions instead of explaining that we might build this system for them.
The village of Ghwein consisted of four or five families living together about ten minutes down a dirt road from the main settler highway. From the hill they occupied, one could see – about a kilometer away – the forested edge of the Green Line, which separates Israel proper from the West Bank. For generations, this community lived in caves beneath the rolling desert hills of Palestine. However, a few years ago they moved above ground when the head of the family narrowly escaped a collapsing cave. They moved into tent-like structures made of canvas stretched over a frame of metal pipes. The people of Ghwein raised sheep and goats for a living. Most of their land was dry and rocky, with a few scattered olive trees. Some younger members of the family had once held paying jobs in Israel, but when we visited it appeared everyone stayed home.
When we arrived in Ghwein, the family sat us inside for tea. Nayef explained the concept of biogas and asked the same lifestyle questions we had presented to the first family. As Ezra and I got some of our questions answered, we started weighing our two options. It was clear to us that this family – with more mouths to feed and less resources – had the greater need. But we were not sure if they would be able to fully implement the system. They did not at that time grow any of their own food, so it seemed they would not be able to utilize the fertilizer created by the biodigester. We desperately wanted to give back to this poorest of families, but we also needed to build the system for people who would benefit from every aspect of the technology. We could not let our efforts go to waste; we had put together this project so that it could have a real and lasting impact. We found ourselves in a difficult, emotional position as we contemplated the possibility that we might not be able to do anything for those who needed the most help.
After tea, we got a tour of their property. They showed us a pen that housed about fifteen sheep, whose milk they used to make yogurt and cheese. At the uphill end of their property, two cisterns collected rainwater from an area of several square meters. Just down the hill from the main building and the sheep pen, they had a cistern full of water that was too dirty to drink. We realized this would provide a great input for the biodigester. Then we walked a little further downhill and found the turning point.
Just below the dirty cistern lay three freshly tilled fields with fertile soil and no crops growing in them. This was the missing piece Ezra and I were looking for. If the fertilizer created by our biodigester could encourage these people to begin growing some of their own food, then the technology would indeed change their lifestyle. Although we suspended the final decision for another 24 hours, in this moment our minds were made up and our hearts were satisfied.
Before leaving that day, we decided to orchestrate a modest community-building event. In two trips in the rental car, we shuttled two or three members of each potential recipient family a few kilometers down the road to Susya, so they could see a biodigester in action. This proved to be an inspired idea, we realized, as we watched these three families interact. The Susya family showed the other two families the biodigester, and explained how it worked. Then we all sat inside, and they talked for at least an hour. We realized during this conversation that any family with a new biodigester could benefit a lot by communicating with the families that already had it. These families would be able to share knowledge about how to use and maintain the system. This meeting also had the powerful effect of showing the new families firsthand the effect that the biodigester could have on their lifestyle. We envisioned a local network for biodigesting families, and the potential scope of our project began to widen.
* * *
At about noon on the day we had planned to build the biodigester, the hardest step in the process emerged, and it was finished before the materials had been unloaded from the truck.
At 7:30am, Ezra and I left Bethlehem in our rented car. We brought with us two young American women and an Englishman of Algerian descent, friends we had met in Bethlehem. At about 9:45 we arrived at the dirt road that led to Ghwein. A few minutes later, Yair the biogas expert showed up with two friends in tow – a Canadian man with red dreadlocks and an Israeli woman wearing her nine-month old baby on her back. Nayef was supposed to meet us there at 10 with the supplies, but he called to say he would arrive around 12 instead. When Yair heard this, he began to doubt that we could finish the installation in one day. Regardless, we brought him into the village and started talking with the family. Yair quickly found a man his own age who spoke Hebrew because he had worked in Israel. He gave everyone a tour of the village and began talking with Yair about where they should install the system. The woman with the baby sat inside with the Palestinian grandmother, and they both played with her tiny son.
A few minutes before he arrived, Nayef called me with some troubling news. The leader of one of the neighboring Ghwein families had called him to try to stop the project. He told Nayef that he had thought the system was going to be available for the whole village, when in fact it was only for one family. He wanted us to stop because it was unfair. He also mentioned that the presence of Israelis in his village was making people uncomfortable. Our experience in the first hour contradicted this claim, but the call made it clear nonetheless that we had more work to do in laying the groundwork for the project.
When Nayef arrived at midday with the truck full of supplies, he suggested we pack up and move everyone down the road to the family we had first visited to avoid causing any trouble in the Ghwein community. Yair disagreed, and the two of them and I launched into a debate about the pros and cons of building at each site. Yair thought we had already spent too much time preparing this site, and that if we moved down the road we could not finish the project in a day. He also argued that we should not give in to the selfish stubbornness of our chosen family’s neighbor. Nayef wanted to avoid introducing any conflict into the Ghwein family at all costs. I did not want to simply give up because the neighbors were jealous, but I also felt that it would not be right for us – as foreigners with good intentions but no real business in this land – to step into this community and bring any problems with us.
When the three of us had nearly decided to pack up, Nayef walked off to have a conversation with the leaders of each family. I asked him to urge them that this was intended to be the first of many similar projects – a beginning. About fifteen minutes later, Nayef returned and directed our volunteers to begin unloading materials. Somehow his negotiations had changed the elders’ minds. He explained to me later that he had asserted to them that as the leaders, they should not get in the way of any project that brought progress. In a moment, our project lept from the back of a truck, its destination finally decided, into the backyard of the poor Palestinian family that had captured our hearts.
With the groundwork finally completed, several Palestinians and two Israelis put their hands together with four Americans, a Brit and a Canadian, and built a biodigester. The young American women played with children when they weren’t hauling manure from the sheep pen and depositing it into the two 1500-liter water tanks that made up the main section of the biodigester. Yair, his new Palestinian friend, Ezra and a team of zealous volunteers did most of the work cutting pipe to fit and piecing together the system. Nayef took photos and smiled. I mostly walked around marveling at what had unfolded before us. Four hours later, the magic was complete.
We packed up quickly, and Yair drove off with his friends. I piled into the rental car with Ezra, Nayef, and two of our friends. On the way out, we decided to meet with the family that owned the women’s center. We parked our car on the side of the highway and walked up to meet them. Once seated inside, tea at our feet, we told the matron and her eldest son that we had built the system for the other family down the road. We explained that they had a greater need for it. Nayef spoke with them about this for a few minutes, and then we asked him to translate. The mother, a large, warm woman with a round, young face, said that she understood why we had chosen the other family. She was even glad that they got it first. Her son agreed. Nayef urged her that he hoped to build another biodigester, and that hers would be the next family to receive one. “Inshallah”, she replied, with a furrowed brow, sparkling eyes, and smiling lips. God willing. Nasser, the volunteer from London, turned to us and said that her face made him want to come back immediately and build another one.
We left the woman’s family and drove north to drop Nayef at home and continue to Bethlehem. On the way, he told us that the family had just told him that the Israeli Defense Force had recently declared a demolition order for that home. A demolition order does not necessarily mean the IDF will actually come and destroy their home, but it puts them in a position of fear and uncertainty, and it illustrates the power that Israel has over these people’s destiny.
* * *
As we drove back to Bethlehem that night and processed the experience over the next two days, Ezra and I reflected on what we had accomplished. This project provided our entire three-month trip with a sense of closure and fulfillment. We had found a tangible way to better a few people’s lives. In the process, we raised awareness about an innovative sustainable technology and we forged connections between people, which might allow them to work together and accomplish more in the future. We did not change the world. We simply brought the right people together, and together they gave a gift. Our biodigester will save one poor Palestinian family $20 a week in fuel costs, but as an Israeli environmentalist and peace advocate posited to Ezra and me, our project also showed these people that they deserve progress.
The Alwatan Center now has a program called “Alwatan BioGas”.
Nasser returned to England, but told us he would like to fund another biodigester out of his own pocket.
Ruth, another British volunteer we met in Bethlehem, did not get to visit Ghwein or see a biodigester. However, after hearing our story, she pledged to raise funds in the UK and send them back to Palestine.
Ezra and I are creating a non-profit called the Green Diplomacy Corps, which will raise funds for projects like Alwatan BioGas and send people over to the Middle East to work on small-scale renewable energy and other environmental projects. See more at greendiplomacycorps.org.
“I’d prefer you call it a village, not a settlement,” our host requested. “I think if you just call us ‘settlers’ it’s kind of dehumanizing,” he explained.
A few minutes earlier, this American-Israeli father had invited a group of 15 American students and adults into his home. He lives in the village of Efrat, which most people would call a Jewish settlement in the West Bank. His community of about 8500 sits atop a hill just south of Bethlehem and looks down on ancient terraces populated by silver-green olive groves.
We sat in the cozy living room while our warm, rotund host told us the story of moving his family here from Chicago in the early 80s. When he completed his family’s tale, he moved on to the story of Israel and Palestine. We heard about the Jews’ ancient connection to this holy land. He pointed out that no empire in the history of the Middle East ever bore the name Palestine. This land has hosted rulers with names such as Roman, Ottoman and Israelite, but not Palestinian.
To describe life as a settler in the West Bank – or “a villager in the land of Israel” – the man provided an anecdote. He described this story as the “first violence of the Oslo peace process”. In 1993, shortly after the historic handshake between Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin and Palestine Liberation Organization chairman Yasser Arafat, our middle-aged friend’s family was driving home from Israel proper. A car full of Palestinians approached from the opposite direction. As they passed, a man in the other car opened fire with a machine gun, spraying the Israeli car with bullets. In what the Israeli man described as God’s protection, the shooter aimed too low, and no one was injured.
Throughout our visit with the settler, the students offered intelligent, unoffending, but sometimes challenging questions, which he answered willingly. We left his home with gratitude, hoping to maintain a relationship that would allow us to learn more from him in the future.
In the afternoon, we got to tour a tiny fenced-in Israeli kindergarten in the settlement. A young Israeli teacher unlocked the gate for us. We walked across the threshold and into a world of innocence, bliss, and beauty. I noticed a large compost bin sitting in a garden near the entrance and lamented the scarcity of such features in America’s schools. A friendly sign stood over the bin, explaining in Hebrew how to use the compost.
The teacher explained that this school teaches its students to develop a relationship with nature. She led us into the school’s small greenhouse, tucked between the building and the surrounding fence. Inside, three rows of pots provided soil for tomatoes, basil, lettuce, cucumber, thyme, and other vegetables and herbs. The children all tend to these plants themselves, their teacher explained. Just outside the greenhouse, she pointed out old drawers, thermoses, street lamps, and 5-liter beer containers filled with soil and their own array of vegetables and herbs. She proudly reported that students from her school frequently go home and teach their parents how to live more sustainably.
After a survey of the greenhouse and gardens, our guide brought us inside to see the space where the children spend most of their time. Just beyond the entrance, clear plastic spheres hung from the ceiling, each filled with a different grain or seed: lentils, chick peas, cardamom, beans, sunflower seeds, and others. Inside the first classroom, large cardboard flowers hung from the ceiling. Real, dried sunflowers sat on red knee-high wooden shelves, with half of their seeds removed. Wall decorations included a variety of recycled and reused goods. In the second classroom, five-year-old Israeli children sat at tiny tables making prints on paper using leaves dipped in paint.
I found myself thinking – this is a place I would love to send my kids. These children will grow up with an appreciation for the earth and a knowledge of how to interact with it. Unlike most of the developed world, they will both observe and engage in the process that creates their food.
As we prepared to leave the school grounds, I walked outside and around the side of the building to the playground in the back. They had the sort of jungle gym I would have loved as a child: swings and slides in abundance, with ample structures to climb.
I paused and took it all in: the playscape, the adults sitting alone waiting for younger versions of themselves to scamper out and disport themselves, the mulch beneath their feet. Finally my gaze fell on the wire fence – the barrier that encloses this small benevolent compound.
Suddenly this fence sparked a flashback that transported me to Delhi, India.
Fourteen months ago, while studying in the land of Gandhi and Ganesh, I visited an embassy school in the nation’s capital. My group had eaten lunch with a British family that lived in the gated community that incorporated the school. We sat in their dining room, ate Subway sandwiches with Sprite and Lays potato chips, and played with their children. After swimming in the community pool, we continued on our way. We walked out of the gate, crossed the street, and entered the toughest slum in all of Delhi.
In the midst of a city of 12 million, across the street from a wealthy international community, lie 3000 of the most destitute people on earth. We walked between patchwork shanties, dumbfounded by the juxtaposition presented by these two neighboring blocks. One man we met had not left his cot in years.
Why would the pristine school in Efrat remind me of the embassy school in Delhi? There is no squalid, overcrowded slum in or near Efrat. So what sparked the connection?
Let’s say you did decide to peer through those chain links and down into the valley – what will you see?
It might not come into focus at first. You might have to venture downhill somewhat, to get a better look. You might have to squint. You might have to listen very carefully, just to catch a whisper as it passed on the wind. If you do these things, however, what will you find?
You might find people whose homes have been displaced by massive roads built to connect settlements with Israel. You might find livelihoods lost on the hundreds of acres of olive trees bulldozed to make way for a wall twice as high as the one that fell in Berlin 22 years ago. You might find men and women in Bethlehem who once drove twenty minutes to visit their families in Ramallah, and now must take a circuitous route through checkpoints and over mountains, with a travel time that is impossible to predict. You might find a peaceful protester whose unarmed brother was killed by an Israeli rubber-coated bullet.
If these images sound troubling, however, you don’t have to put yourself through it. You don’t need to come down from the hill. It’s awfully hard to make out that sound on the wind, anyway.