In the business of daily life, their paths probably would not have crossed.
Israeli Robi Damelin used to run a P.R. firm. Palestinian Nadwa Sarandah manages a cement factory.
But the tragedy of death in their families brought them together.
“I love my country, but the occupation is killing the moral fiber of Israel,” Damelin said recently in a talk at the Berkeley Richmond Jewish Community Center. The two women sat side-by-side, recounting their journeys of grief and empathy, and taking turns consoling each other.
Both are members of Parents’ Circle Families Forum, an organization of Israeli and Palestinian families who’ve lost loved ones during the conflict.
Many tears fell among the audience of about 50 people, as the women explained how they’ve paid the highest price — death in their families — in the conflict.
“One moment he was there, a gifted musician, a committed educator,” Damelin said of her son David, a philosophy student who had not wanted to serve in the territories. Two years ago, at an isolated roadblock in the West Bank, the 28-year-old was shot and killed by a Palestinian sniper. “There is no revenge for a lost child,” Damelin said.
Sarandah’s sister, Naila, returned to Israel from the United States in the 1980s with two master’s degrees, and a doctorate from John Hopkins University. She became a public health consultant, who “wanted the best for her people,” said Sarandah.
But one day while walking through Jerusalem, “she was stabbed in the heart and her life was taken away.
“I loved my sister and I loved my people, but I was stuck in my grief,” said Sarandah. “I didn’t know what to do.”
Like Damelin, Sarandah decided that she would seek understanding rather than revenge. “My sister Naila gave me the courage to speak up.”
Today, both women have transformed their grief into compassion, working with families to solve the conflict between Palestinians and Israelis through dialogue and mutual understanding. Their talk at the JCC was sponsored by the local chapter of Brit Tzedek V’Shalom, the Jewish Alliance for Justice and Peace.
The auditorium grew silent as Damelin spoke of her attempt at reconciliation. “This was the ultimate test. I wrote a letter to the family of the sniper, and it’s hard to believe, but it was a sense of relief.”
The letter began: “This is one of the most difficult letters I’ve had to write. I’m the mother of David, who was killed by your son … After your son was captured, I spent many sleepless nights … I would like to find a way to reconcile.”
Her friend Sarandah delivered the letter to the young man’s family in a small, poor village. She found only the oldest son at home; his four brothers were in prison.
She learned that as a boy, the sniper had witnessed the killing of his uncle. “I’m sure this was a traumatized kid. He was angry and full of hate. He had no hope.”
Sarandah read the letter to the older brother in Arabic. He “was very open-minded and understanding,” she said, promising to deliver the letter to his brother in jail.
“He said that Robi Damelin is a courageous woman, and that there can be understanding.”
Damelin closed her successful P.R. firm in Israel to devote all her time and energy to Parents’ Circle, which, she said, “provides me with an answer to the pain and anger I felt following my son’s death.”
The two women regularly visit high school classrooms to initiate dialogue between Israeli and Palestinian teens.
Even in Berkeley, she said, where “it’s terribly easy to be liberal,” dialogue is crucial.
Sarandah explained: “Some people are pro-Israeli and some are pro-Palestinian, but both sides are suffering. Whichever side you take, you’re just pulling us away from each other.”
Damelin urged Americans to stop taking sides. “I am consoled only by this thought: that my work will somehow prevent one family, on either side, from facing the horror of losing a son.”