Peace in War

Amidst the devastating and ongoing genocide in Palestine, a remarkable group of Palestinian women found the courage to come together. They organised a community-led charity bazaar, spearheaded by the remarkable Aya Badaha, and created something profound. In the midst of war and a siege on humanitarian aid, they carved out a space for connection, hope, and local empowerment.

Saturdays have always been special in Aya Badaha’s life. Every weekday, she had to leave for school before sunrise. On some mornings, she would crawl out of bed before the neighbour’s rooster’s maddening crow and on other mornings, the rooster would crow her into wakefulness.

Many a time, she fantasised about that irritating rooster making a delicious chicken musakhan dish. I am sure the rooster was delighted that it did not hail from the Badaha household. Aya knew she was privileged to receive an education while many girls in her community could not.

Still, the daily routine left her feeling overwhelmed and exhausted. But on Saturdays, she felt in control again. She would watch the magnificent rising of the sun against the stone and unbaked brick buildings on the streets of Palestine’s Deir Ammah, her hometown. It was her favourite thing to do in the morning. It was magical.

And then there were the bazaars. Every Saturday, Deir Ammah transformed from a quiet village into a bustling hub of activity, as bakers, spice merchants, sweet shops, restaurants, cafés, leatherworkers, jewellers, textile artisans, tailors, garment makers, and many others filled its heart with life and trade. But not just for business, it was a community coming together.

It was a whirlwind of activity, a microcosm of life itself. Children, their faces sticky with sweets, would dart through the lively crowds, their laughter echoing through the market. Meanwhile, their parents—chatting with friends and neighbours—tirelessly kept a watchful eye on them.

Girls would giggle and chatter while trying on vibrant gowns and elaborate dresses that they had no business buying, while husbands would wait impatiently for hours for their wives to rummage through piles of new dresses, bags and shoes.

Several couples, seeking respite from the week’s demands, relaxed in cafés, their conversations unfolding gently against the backdrop of the market’s vibrant symphony. Nearby, the elderly—faces etched with the wisdom of experience—shared stories and laughter with younger generations, demonstrating the timeless art of enjoying a bazaar and, in doing so, rediscovering a piece of their own youth.

As for Aya, she always had her eyes on handmade crafts and traditional embroidered items, and would race her cousin Marah to grab them first. Her Saturdays continued to be special, with the sunrises and the bazaars.

Even after she got married and moved to Sinjil in the occupied West Bank, they remained as blissful, like a cherished trinket from a first love. That is, until Saturday, October 7, 2023, when Hamas launched an operation against Israel after years of oppression. The attack triggered a wave of violence and a rapid escalation of war across the region, especially in Gaza and parts of the occupied West Bank.

The once-vibrant towns that Aya held so dear were transformed into a scene of utter devastation. The sturdy stone and baked brick buildings that had stood as testaments to Palestine’s rich history were reduced to rubble and dust. The bustling marketplaces, once brimming with hope and opportunity during bazaars, were now desolate expanses of ash and debris.

Norman Cousins, in his abundant wisdom, once said that war was an invention of the human mind—and that the human mind could also invent peace. For Aya, that quote had never felt truer than in that moment. The ongoing genocide had rapidly spiralled into a devastating humanitarian crisis, turning the region into a warzone where civilians were relentlessly caught in the crossfire.

Mothers watched helplessly as their babies went days without food. The small, income-generating businesses that once thrived in the bazaars, lifelines for many families, were now either shuttered or buried beneath the rubble of continuous bombings. For many, there was no access to essential needs.

Coming from the Dalia Association, an organisation deeply committed to the belief that local resources should be controlled by communities, this reality was a painful contradiction to everything Aya and the Association stood for. She believed that if resources could be redirected back into the hands of the people, then, to some extent, communities might find relief from this exhausting war.

Amid the horror, Cousins’ quote lit a spark in her. If the human mind could invent such destruction, it could just as powerfully imagine and build peace, even in fragments, even in the ruins.

Fuelled by an innate sense of hope and a bold vision, Aya chose to embody Cousins’ faith in the human mind’s capacity to build peace. She dared to believe that minds like hers were capable of much more, not only inventing peace, but also creating local income sources, generating opportunities, and reclaiming control.

This belief was not rooted in naiveté but in lived experience. She had witnessed firsthand the tranquillity and harmony that once thrived in her hometown of Deir Ammah—during the sunrises and the bustling bazaars—and how the community sustained itself through them.

Even in Sinjil, she had found pockets of it. Driven by this belief, Aya embarked on a journey of bringing the community back together at the bazaar. As Nour Nusseibeh, Executive Director of the Dalia Association, often says, communities that support each other offer the world a powerful example of resilience and inspiration.

Aya believed that, through her efforts, the world might take a page from that book. There is a saying that when women support each other, incredible things happen. Aya had witnessed this power time and again in her role as a programme officer at the Dalia Association.

Her unwavering belief in the strength of female collaboration inspired her to launch the Women Supporting Women bazaar. This space would bring together forty-five women to undergo specialised training in management, financial literacy, and marketing. Afterwards, they would showcase and sell their products, connect with their community, build valuable networks, and increase their visibility.

Still, this mission was not one to be taken lightly. Israel continued to drop bombs on Palestine. People were mourning the loss of loved ones and the destruction of their homes. How was Aya expected to pull off a bazaar in such a setting? And yet, despite the growing challenges, the turmoil and despair only strengthened the resolve of Aya and her team to bring this empowering event to life.

She carefully handpicked fifteen remarkable women from the Hands of Tale project to showcase a rich variety of traditional Palestinian crafts. This included embroidery, leatherwork, soap making, ceramics, wooden crafts, straw products, sculptures, food items, and other handmade items.

Even though times had changed, Aya dared to recreate the atmosphere of the bazaars she had seen in her youth—the feeling those Saturdays once gave her. To her, they were a blank canvas on which she could paint the present she longed for; A present filled with peace.

Once upon a time, in the small village of Nasreddin Hoca Türbesi, lived a wise and considerate man named Mullah Nasr al-Din. He lived with his wife, Fatimah, and had a deep love for fruits and vegetables. One evening, as Fatimah began preparing dinner, she realised she was missing a few ingredients. So, she asked Mullah to ride his donkey to the market and fetch them quickly.

Mullah agreed to his wife’s request and, not long after, set off to the market on his small white donkey. There, as always, he was captivated by the colourful display of fruits and vegetables lining the shops. However, rather than staying and enjoying the scene, he hurried to get the items to Fatimah.

Still, he could not resist bringing home a few extra fruits. At each stop, he chatted with friends and picked up a little more. By the time he was done, Mullah found himself with an unexpectedly heavy load; watermelons, eggplants, potatoes, and vegetables.

With great difficulty, he rode his donkey backwards so as not to dishonour his friends by turning his back on them. One of his friends then handed him the heavy bag. Realising just how heavy it was, Mullah did not want to burden his donkey with it. So instead of placing it on the saddle, he held the bag at the end of his outstretched arm, away from the donkey.

And with that, the donkey began walking steadily toward Mullah’s house. On the way home, one of his students saw him supporting his tired, outstretched arm with the other. Curious, the student asked why he did not simply put the bag on the saddle like everyone else coming from the market.

Mullah replied that he did not want to place the entire burden on his donkey. Since the donkey was carrying him, he would carry the load. Mesmerised by his teacher’s kindness and thoughtfulness, the student walked away inspired.

Aya, too, had long been inspired by Mullah’s stories and how he used his quiet wisdom not just to better his own life, but to uplift those around him. When she organised the bazaar in Ramallah, she applied that same wisdom, ensuring that every exhibitor received payment, regardless of their sales.

While her primary goal was to cultivate a sense of peace in a region torn apart by war, she also understood the immense hardships these women had endured. Any form of financial support would be invaluable.

To achieve this, she ensured that the organising teams would sell tickets to attendees, with all proceeds going directly to the participating women. This allowed them not only to sustain their projects but also to earn an income. This way, mothers would provide a meal for their starving children or at least afford a few basic necessities.

While Aya recognised the importance of international aid—especially in desperate times, like when access to Gaza was blocked and people were left to starve without medical care—she also believed in the power of community philanthropy. She saw it as a vital force that could create an immediate impact where it was needed most.

Community philanthropy fosters a culture of giving that strengthens social bonds and resilience, inspiring others to get involved and creating a ripple effect of collective action and local innovation. Aya understood that when grassroots initiatives like the Women Supporting Women bazaar succeed, they not only uplift individuals but also motivate others in the community to contribute their time, skills, or resources.

In this way, international aid could supplement local efforts to better the lives of the community. If Mullah had been in Gaza at that time, Aya was certain he would have done the same. Just as he once carried the weight himself to spare his donkey the burden, Aya chose to do the same for her community through the bazaar.