Return .. A Memoir .. The Peace Tent

A bunch of protesters in Gaza, taking part in the 'March of Return' released a whole load of doves with messages of peace for their neighbours on the Israeli side.

Another bunch flew kites over the fence. The kites were fitted with incendiary devices which set fire to fields of dry crops on the other other side. The same bunch set fire to the border crossing as well as pipelines bringing oil and gas supplies into the besieged, overcrowded strip of land.

You can probably guess which bunch got the press coverage and which bunch didn't.

Reading about it in the news, I wondered how if the positive actions were given more coverage, it may encourage more of that sort of thing. I try to encourage people who are taking positive action - especially in the face of so much adversity.

Sometimes it seems as if the whole world is saying 'Your actions are futile, your energies are wasted. Nothing you're doing will change anything..'

Sometimes people need to hear the words 'Yes, I see what you're doing. It inspires me and gives me hope. Keep up the good work. Don't give up.'

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I decided to visit my friend Omar in Arrabe. I haven't seen him for a while and wondered if he might have some clues as to where I could set up a workshop since I'll have to leave mine soon. A simple place where I can go and create things without bothering anyone, or being bothered by anyone.

I feel a certain kinship with Omar. In some ways we're quite similar, even though we come from very different backgrounds. He's an artist. Not in an arty-farty sort of way. Just extremely creative. He makes arches out of stones. I first met him when he was building a big stone arch on the top of the hill leading down to Arrabe. No one asked him to build it. It was just something he felt like doing, so he did.

He's lived all his life in Arrabe which in his time has gone from a small farming village in rural Galilee to a large, modern town. We speak to each other in Hebrew, though Arabic is his native language.

The last time I visited Omar must have been about three years ago, but he still remembers me and asks after my family, remembering them too. I ask after his son who I remember because he was helping Omar build the 'Peace Tent.' With some pride, he told me that his son had completed his army service (which is not compulsory for Arabs, but still something many, though not the majority do) and is that is now a policeman with a respectable job and a good salary.

The Peace Tent is an incredible complex of arched caverns he built stone by stone on the highway into town, over the course of about three years.

The last time I visited, he was just beginning to build it. He'd completed the main hall, the kitchen and taboun - a huge wood fired oven made of stone. Groups would come and be treated to fine traditional food cooked by Omar's two wives and music from local musicians.

Now he's built a whole courtyard surrounded by more arched buildings, all in his unique style, using a combination natural rocks and ancient reclaimed stone. He hosts huge wedding parties almost every night and now caterers do the cooking and organising. He's worked hard enough in his life and needs to not overdo it, for the sake of his heart. Groups come around and he talks to them, tells them stories of his life and his efforts towards peace. He's not short of stories, he smiles in his tired optimistic way.

I look around admiringly at the place he's built. I'm building a little stone house so I know how heavy those things are and this is literally thousands of stones, lifted and placed on by one, by his own hands. This isn't the first Peace Tent he's built either.

The first one he built on his family's land at the top of the town. I saw it once - an equally magnificent artwork. A true labour of love and hope. One man's monument to a vision of peace which he wanted to share with the world - but it was in a derelict state, having been burned down by his brother. From what I understood, it was a bitter dispute over money, property rights and politics. It almost broke him emotionally and it completely bankrupted him and left him quite homeless, but he resolved to rebuild the Peace Tent. His second temple, as it were - though his faith in humanity and his belief in Peace were shaken to the core.

His older wife brought us coffee on a tray, smiled and went back to the kitchen area where she'd been chatting with the younger wife, while shelling peas together. I offered him a cigarette. I'd never seen him without one and he surprised me by saying he'd given up smoking. He then told me about his heart transplant.

Since I'd last visited him he'd had a heart attack and spent a year and a half in hospital, on death's door. Just when all hope was lost, a certain professional footballer from an Israeli team had fallen to his death and so Omar, saved by a miraculous twist of fate had received a new heart. A Jewish heart.

The way he sees it, nothing happens by chance. If this story shows anything, it's that his efforts for peace had their reward. Now he is the living embodiment of coexistence.

One curious effect of the transplant, he tells me, is that since receiving the new heart he has become vegetarian. Somehow he just can't bear the idea that someone has to die in order for him to eat. Of course, if there's a big wedding party, he'll fire up the big taboun and they'll roast a goat. It's traditional after all, and people like tradition as much as traditionally woodfire roasted goat, but he won't eat it himself. Not any more.

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'Return' is a series of autobiographical stories and anecdotes through which I am exploring my own journey in search of peace, reconciliation and a place to call home in this land of bitter conflict.

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Visit @ecotrain for more positive and inspiring stories you probably won't hear about on the news.

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The photo is from the little stone house I am building. I'll tell you all about that some other time.