This blog post was written by Talia Amaru-Kapantais a Yahel Social Change Fellow living and working in Rishon LeZion
I am just beginning to have a routine, find grounding, and feel a sense of home in a new place. Some days I feel disoriented; just about everything in my life has changed over the course of three months. I would be lying if I said that this realization doesn’t sometimes overwhelm me, particularly in the mornings, in that brief period between sleeping and waking before reality sets in again. Despite the daunting nature of big transitions, I have a deep awareness that I am where I’m supposed to be.
I graduated from university a little over a year ago and I chose a major that doesn’t guarantee the security of any particular career directly after graduating – to say the least. I have never been a particularly career-oriented person anyway, so I always felt it was important for me to first go out into the world and do something meaningful, with purpose.
Since October 7th, my identity as a Jew in America changed significantly. I witnessed a raging antisemitism in the world which I didn't know still even existed. As the Yahel fellows have discussed with each other, the past year has been an incredibly isolating one. Our universities and peers abandoned us in the face of a radically ignorant “woke” rhetoric. In a generation which supposedly advocates for a moving away from binaries and polarization – embodying the “grey” space – there seems to be no room for nuance when it comes to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict; the irony of this would be laughable if it didn’t endanger our actual existence. To make a long story short, I felt a calling to be in Israel, and so I applied for the Yahel Social Change Fellowship.
The Yahel Fellowship started about six weeks ago; the first month of the program was orientation, during which we got to know the other fellows and visited the various volunteer placements in our cities (I am living in Rishon LeZion). We visited many schools and organizations, all of which are interesting in different ways. In the last week and a half, we have officially started volunteering. It feels good to have structure and consistency, like our lives are really starting to take shape here.
On Sundays I volunteer at Pitchon Lev, an NGO which aims to break the cycle of poverty for those living in the peripheral communities of Israel. Pitchon Lev is a widely recognized organization in Israel, but its international scope is much more limited. I will be researching international organizations – particularly American and Canadian – to provide funding and resources for Pitchon Lev, and writing the grants and proposals. I’m excited to hone my writing skills in a professional setting and to contribute to an organization which does such impactful work aligned with my own values.
On Monday and Wednesday mornings, I’m teaching English to kids at an elementary school. I have extensive experience working with kids – it has always felt like “soul work” to me – and I am aware I have as much to learn from these kids as they do from me. I have been thinking a lot about how formative these early years are of our lives, how agile our minds are at that stage. I have been comparing my own experience in elementary school to the experience of these Israeli children; they are worlds apart, quite literally.
The bulk of my volunteer work is with kids: on Tuesday mornings, I’m volunteering at a daycare with babies between the ages of one and three who come from difficult homes, mostly raised by single parents. Today was my first day seeing the daycare and meeting the babies; I’m excited to officially start. On Tuesday afternoons, I’m volunteering at an afterschool program for 5th and 6th graders; they are bubbly and loud and their energy is contagious. On Wednesdays, I’m volunteering at an NGO called Elifelet in Tel Aviv, which provides support for the children of African refugees; my first day is tomorrow.
On Monday and Tuesday afternoons, I’m volunteering at an art center, where another Yahel fellow, Grant, and I, will be designing our own workshop. We want the workshop to fuse together our passions for photography and creative writing, for it to be an expressive outlet and way for the children in this community – Ramat Eliyahu – to tell their stories.
I have been to Israel many times before; I have family here and grew up coming to visit. Over the past six weeks, I have been exposed to an Israeli lifestyle and culture I wasn’t previously. Ramat Eliyahu is a predominantly Ethiopian neighborhood of a lower socioeconomic status. Part of what I appreciate about Yahel is that we live in the neighborhoods we are volunteering in; we really immerse ourselves here – both in our volunteering and when we return home at the end of the day.
Our neighbors and the kids from volunteering recognize me when I’m walking around the neighborhood and they always say hello. I have been trying to practice my Hebrew with them, and they practice their English with me. I’m still surprised by how many of the kids remember my name. My boyfriend and I were graciously welcomed into my neighbor’s home a couple of weeks ago where we sat with them while they played music; they wouldn’t let us leave until they fed us. Every time I sit outside of my apartment (there is a bench just across the way where I often find myself), my neighbors stick their heads out of the window and ask me how I am doing (I respond in Hebrew to the best of my ability).
(As a brief side note, and perhaps something I’ll discuss more in a future blog, I am aware that I stand out in the neighborhood as an American who has come to Israel – and specifically to a poor neighborhood – to volunteer; I’m still figuring out how to navigate this perception and the assumptions that might come along with it. We discussed the value of humility extensively in our first Yahel workshop; I am holding onto that. I do not think that I am here to change anyone’s lives; in fact, it is my life and personal awareness that is being more significantly expanded.)
Yes, there are certain moments of the day – most every day – where I stop for a moment, and think about how much change has recently occurred in my life, how significant of a transition this is, but it feels right. I’m not completely grounded yet – this will take more time – but I feel my roots beginning to grow.
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