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Our host in Nablus was Sammi Hammad, an engineer who in 2005 founded Nablus the Culture, a foundation for the promotion and re-establishment of culture in Nablus. The foundation also offers music lessons to young Nablusis in collaboration with the Barenboim-Said Foundation.

Sami Hammad (right), with John Harte (director of the Choir of London, left). "You can see from the shrapnel marks on the walls that there was a big cluster bomb here, one of the ones with nails that explode in every direction and kill many bodies instantly. They use them here from time to time"

Although the organization receives a certain amount of support from organizations such as Music Fund Belgium (donations of musical instruments), the Barenboim-Said Foundation (teaching and performance opportunities) and other indirect help from partners like Choir of London, it's a very very difficult thing to run. For a start, Nablus is one of the most isolated and persecuted of all the Palestinian cities, and access is extremely hazardous and unreliable.

Choir of London people crossing the notorius al-Hawara checkpoint into Nablus

Aside from the nightly raids and frequent incursions that terrorize the city inhabitants, there's always a difficulty running a cultural institution in a time of conflict, because day to day survival takes a higher priority than long term culture-building. But so long as there isn't an education for children, then there isn't a future for a society. And if there isn't music education, it's even more severe – for an explanation why, I refer you back to my argument about the importance of music education in a globalized society.

View of Nablus

This means that for forward-thinkers like Sami, there's no question that this has to be done, but every single small development is a battle; a struggle against lack of funds, lack of support, and the immediate situation. Over lunch, I asked him whether he is at all optimistic about the future:

"Politically, I am not optimistic. I do not have much hope. What can you do when there are these raids? Every bloody night, they come. There will not be peace for a very long time."

But what keeps him going? What drives him to get up in the morning and at least attempt to bring to this troubled territory some of the educational opportunities that most of the world takes for granted?

"The future of my children depends on it. I do this not for my generation – it is too late – but for future generations. The problem is, that the Israelis destroy our culture and heritage. But it is culture and heritage that makes a community what it is. That is why they bombed the soap factories [Nablus is historically famous for its soap factories, and there's a gaping hole in the centre of town where there was once a thriving cafe/arts centre within a renovated factory]. They want to destroy our identity. We have to keep the culture of Nablus and Palestine alive. That is why I try to do what I do."

Although Sami speaks about his own children – three very good young musicians who are students at Nablus The Culture – his focus is more on the children of Nablus as a whole.

"In a way, I consider them all my children. I do for them what I can, and hope that one day perhaps things will change."

Workshop with Douglas Metcalf (right, clarinet professor of the Barenboim-Said Foundation) and his clarinet students

In the afternoon, we played with some of Douglas' clarinet students. Although one or two of the older musicians have played in the Said Conservatory's Palestine Youth Orchestra, for most of the students, it is the first time they have played with professional musicians other than their teachers.
Afterwards, Sami takes us on a walking tour of the old city. Not a tourist tour of course – they don't have tourists in Nablus! – but more a guided exploration of the city's main bomb sites, martyr celebraton posters, and destroyed points of cultural interest!! (Be aware that this post is fully illustrative of a Palestinian view. Don't expect me to show both sides of the argument today!)

Martyrs' wall of commemoration…

A main shopping street in Nablus

A former Nablus Soap factory. Nablus is famed for its soap, but many factories have now been destroyed by the Israelis, or closed down. This factory is being renovated for use as a childrens' arts and crafts centre, but was previously used by the Nablus the Culture organization for music lessons, before they moved into their new building.

An extreeeemely syrupy sugary snack – a Palestinian speciality!

A row of taxis waits to take the Choir of London to the evening concert

Like in Ramallah, the best form of resistance is again rearing its head in resilience. If there's nothing you can do to change the situation you are faced with, the best you can do is to contribute to change from within, by keeping on keeping on with small individual contributions; speaking with your actions. Sami Hammad and Nablus The Culture are doing the best they can do.

We're based in Jerusalem, with regular excursions to Ramallah and, in the coming week, Bethlehem. Today we are also performing Mozart's Clarinet Quintet in Nablus. (Map from Wikipedia)

When we came to Ramallah on Friday, it was deserted, as is the custom on holy days. It had a worryingly deathly air to it; very few cars in the streets, very few people about. The moment you enter the city you're aware of the lack of civil resources; some roads are unpaved, those that are paved tend to be full of potholes, there's litter everywhere, and there's a remarkable lack of basic signs and other street furniture.

A deserted street in Ramallah

At first, it feels a little like you're stepping back in time to a forlorn, shrinking community that is slowly dying. What's more, this is exactly the image that many Jewish Israelis (who aren't permitted entry), and indeed anyone who hasn't been here, has of these areas. Tell a Jewish Israeli that you're going to Ramallah, and you're likely to be considered brave; there's the feeling that anyone entering such a town is putting themselves at serious personal risk.
The reality is completely different.
We returned to give a concert with Saleem Abboud Ashkar (ex-RAM pianist from Nazareth, now signed to EMI Classics and a major international artist) and Douglas Metcalf (a brilliant American clarinettist, and one of the Barenboim-Said Foundation's professors working in Jerusalem, Ramallah and Nablus) at a hall near the centre of town.
Returning on a weekday, it became apparent immediately that this isn't a forlorn, shrinking community. Roads that were empty days earlier were now buzzing with activity. Markets were in full swing, and traders no less aggressive than anywhere else in the middle east!

The 'Stars & Bucks' cafe. Yes, Starbucks knows about it. No, they're not planning to do anything about it.	One of Ramallah's main streets

Ramallah is a big city, with plenty going on, and if we just suspend the devastating reality of checkpoints and nightly raids for one moment, this is not (usually) an outrightly dangerous walk-in-the-street-and-you-might-get-shot kind of place. At least not during the daytime! 75% of the city's residents have foreign passports (true; 25% are essentially prisoners) and therefore can technically leave the territory via Jordan if they manage to go through the enormous hassle of arranging a permit (not always granted…). There's a large expatriate population too; Ramallah is the central town for most organizations operating in Palestine (I'm going to refer to 'Palestine' from now on, not the Occupied Territories). Certain parts of the city are unusually affluent; I saw several nice houses with expensive German saloon cars in the driveways, and there are at least a couple of upmarket restaurants that cater to those who can afford to eat out.
Remarkably, there's an active cultural scene here; since the second intifada, the funds that have poured in to Palestine have often centred on Ramallah, and although relatively few external performers come to Palestine (hence why the Palestine Mozart Festival is so remarkable), there is at least a strong core of music-making and arts/cultural activities, even if it has difficulty in thriving!
Now don't for a minute think that reporting such normality is some kind of apologia for what's going on. It isn't. It's a horrible, horrible situation and when the incursions happen it's no doubt a living hell – and not much better the rest of the time. But there's a resilience and getting-on-with-it-ness (a blitz spirit, perhaps?) that's integral to how people keep going.
Part of that comes from having a pragmatic approach towards the situation. Both Douglas (clarinettist) and another Choir of London assistant, who both live or have lived in Ramallah and have stayed here during serious incursions, maintain a sanguine acceptance of the potential dangers ("If I see groups of kids walking towards one part of the city carrying large stones, I just retreat in the other direction!"). Palestinians I have met have expressed similar sentiments.
As with so many things, it is only once you accept that a situation exists, that you can continue to productively move on and deal with it. (I won't go into the parallels with learning a music instrument here, but believe me, they're pretty exact!) Accepting a situation isn't the same as approving of it, obviously. But the difference between those that dig deeper and deeper into the cycle of violence and despair and those who seek to objectify, analyse, then speak with their actions and find as much of a day-to-day normality as they can, is pointed.
For those who can do this, the most potent action against the terror that an individual can take is to continue striving for that normality, the 'everyday'-ness that much of the rest of the world takes for granted. Because that everydayness is the greatest enemy of conflict that there is.
That's why even here, against all odds, life goes on. Just about.