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The Institute for the Advancement of Deaf Persons in Israel

"A cross-cultural communicator"

Armed with a Fulbright scholarship, Daniel Nead is seeking to understand how trauma affects deaf people worldwide.

Almost getting shot at a shopping mall in Israel helped Daniel Nead experience what it's like living as a deaf person in a hearing world.

A psychology doctoral student at Gallaudet University, Nead spent a year as a Fulbright scholar in Israel in 2007–08. A few weeks after arriving—and still struggling to learn the basics of Hebrew—Nead was stopped by a security guard at a Tel Aviv shopping mall. The guard checked his bag, and Nead assumed he was cleared to go. He heard shouting but kept walking, not understanding that the commotion was all about him. Turning around, he saw the guard rushing toward him, his hand on the holster of his weapon.

"I was telling a deaf person about it, and he said, 'Welcome to my life,'" Nead says.

Continue reading "A cross-cultural communicator"...

ETA: magazine scans (Thanks, Espen!)
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Sometimes it's the little things...

a conversation I had this morning coming into work

Me: Hi.
Security Guard: Good morning.
I'm a volunteer with the Institute for the Advancement of Deaf...
I know who you are! Come in, come in!
Really? Wow. Thanks!
(in English) You're welcome.

I guess I'm a regular here now.

Shhhhh!

Last week I had a most interesting experience. My friend Emily and I had long been wanting to go to Na laga'at (Hebrew for "please touch") and see a show there. This is a unique experience because the theatre contains three parts: one is a restaurant called Black Out in which all the food is served in the dark; another is a cafe called Capish where all the waiters are deaf; and the main attraction is a show in which almost all the actors are either deaf or deaf-blind called "Not By Bread Alone".

We decided to go to an evening at the theatre and some coffee afterwards. I must say, we were pleasantly surprised. The show consisted of an introduction of the actors, and then them talking about and enacting some of their dreams: walking without assistance, going to the movies, and getting married. The point was to show that deaf-blind people have the same hopes and dreams as hearing people.

The logistics of the show were a sight to behold: actors were lead around stage by black-clad assistants who were also voice and sign interpreters, the use of light and sounds were fantastic, and the entire show was captioned in Hebrew, Arabic and English with voice interpretation for the signing and sign interpretation for the speaking parts.


But the coolest part (I thought) was the end. At the start of the show, all the actors are introduced one-by-one as they are kneading bread. They then bake the bread in ovens on stage, and at the end (spoiler: it ends with a wedding) the audience is invited to come up on stage, eat the bread and talk with the actors, all of whom have interpreters with them. And come they did! Many people came up to talk with them, either using the interpreters, signing for themselves or using Braille sheets to communicate. There was even one deaf-blind guy who used an alphabet glove to communicate!

We ended the evening in Capish, the cafe staffed by deaf people. Turns out I know the manager. Small (deaf) world.

Here's a news clip about the theatre (CCed):



Later in the week we visited the Holon Children's Museum, which has a permanent exhibit entitled "Invitation to Silence". I was hoping for something more along the lines of what it's like to be deaf, to give people an idea of what that experience is like (it's sister exhibit, "Dialogue in the Dark", does just that). Instead, "Invitation to Silence" takes away all vocal and written communication and teaches the participants how to communicate using gestures, facial expressions, hand shapes; it's a great primer for anyone that is learning a signed language or is traveling to a country where they don't know the spoken language and may need other means of communication. It was definitely an eye-opening (pun!) experience for the people that went through the exhibit with us (Emily and I already know ASL so...).

So that was it: our week of deafness. And I'm still at the Institute for the Advancement of Deaf Persons in Israel once a week, and occasionally sit in on the ASL class they're teaching. I'll be teaching my own ASL class this spring here in Jerusalem, which should be fun. It's actually just a one-on-one, but who's counting?

Back in Deaf culture

I am very, very behind on my blog postings for which I apologize. The past two months have been packed full of changes, trips and visits. Now that I'm back to a slower schedule I'm going to work on getting my blog updated and pictures posted, in between all the other stuff I'm supposed to be doing.

Back in April, the Sandler Sign Language Research Lab at the University of Haifa hosted the third(?) Yom Iyun. It translates literally to "day of study" but was essentially a day-long conference on various aspects of deaf culture, history and language in Israel. Though my Hebrew and ISL are limited (especially in such high register settings such as college presentations) I was excited to go and see not only what I could understand, but also to learn more about the deaf community I'd been affiliated with the for the past eight months.

Like all deaf-centric events, the first order of business is socializing and catching up with friends. Good to know that some deaf culture characteristics are static. It turned out to be a great time to catch up with some people I'd not seen for a few months, or had met once, or who had never met me but had heard there was a Gallaudet student floating around in Israel. As there are only about 10,000 or so Deaf people is Israel, news travels fast.

photos courtesy of Doug McKenney

The topics for the day covered everything from the history of ISL, history of deaf culture in Israel and other sign languages used in Israel, such as Bedouin and Algerian Sign Languages. The Beduin are an interesting crew. Of Arab decent, they were nomads that traveled through what is now Jordan, southern Israel, and Egypt before the British mandate expired and borders were made and summarily closed.

As many Bedouin groups were isolated, the gene pool became closed and many genetic traits are now much more prevalent. One of these traits is deafness, and has caused an above-average number of deaf people in the community. From this was born Al-Sayyid Bedouin Sign Language, a language used fluently by many deaf and hearing Bedouins. Rumor has it there's a village where half the inhabitants are deaf and everyone knows sign language, but I have yet to substantiate this.


As Israel is such a nation of immigrants, there are also pockets of deaf people who have kept their own native languages instead of or in addition to learning ISL. There is a large Algerian Deaf community in Israel though, like the Bedouins, their exposure to ISL and it's greater applicability are causing many to abandon Algerian Sign Language. A recent resurgence in its usage by the Algerian-Israeli Deaf community, may just keep it in use here.

The day also included a dance performance by Amnon Damti, a deaf dancer who I had met back in October at another deaf event. He performed a piece alone, expressing the differences between moving between the hearing and Deaf worlds. Though I'd met him a few times before, this was the first time I actually saw him perform. It was very interesting to see deafness expressed through dance, some of which was choreographed to music and some which was him dancing in silence. I also need to get down to see "By Bread Alone", a show by Nalaga'at, deaf-blind theatre company in Jaffa.

For as many similarities as there are between the American and Israeli deaf communities, there are also some stark differences. Unlike ASL, ISL uses much more lip-reading and speaking. This comes, in my opinion, not only from the influence of oralism and hearing culture, but from the cultural aspect of the Hebrew language as part of Jewish culture. Indeed, this emphasis on learning Hebrew is seen in other aspects as well: the ulpan system for teaching people Hebrew; the government providing immigrants 5-hour daily Hebrew classes free for six months; the teaching of Hebrew within the Jewish community outside of Israel (I had a wonderful conversation with a Tunisian shopkeeper, all in Hebrew). The ability to read, write, speak and lip-read Hebrew isn't part of hearing culture, it's part of Jewish culture both hearing and deaf.

There is also another, much more practical reason: with much of the county being immigrants, there is a necessity for a common language among the people. That language is Hebrew. And considering the relatively small size of the deaf community here, being able to communicate with hearing people is much more of a necessity for everyday life. Because of this, the use of Signed Hebrew and cochlear implants is much more accepted here than in the US, not in place of deaf culture or ISL but in addition to it. With limited access to services that are few and far between in the first place, being able to function independently in the hearing world is a requirement for most Deaf people.

That's not to say the debate of cochlear implants and oralism versus signing isn't here; it most certainly is. But it's interesting to see how the connection of the Hebrew language to Jewish identity, both in the hearing and deaf communities, as well as the availability of services influences peoples' viewpoints on core Deaf issues.

So, that was the Yom Iyun in a nutshell. There's apparently a DVD being put together of all the presentations, though everything is either spoken Hebrew or ISL (with Hebrew real-time captioning). There is a great book by two of the Yom's organizer's, Dr. Wendy Sandler and Irit Meir, called "A Language in Space: the Story of Israeli Sign Language". The first half is all linguistics, but the second part is a great history on the development of the Deaf community in Israel and ISL. Just if you're looking for more information...

Just to make sure I'm clear...

In re-reading my last post I realized that it kind of makes it sound as if I'm living in some kind of social isolation, like some kind of non-Hebrew-speaking exile. This couldn't be further from the truth. While the day-to-day life is a bit mundane, much like my life in DC, that doesn't mean I've been relegated to my dorm room.

In the past two weeks I've to Jerusalem with other Fulbrighters, toured a kibbutz and nature reserve, started-up ulpan classes again as well as Israeli Sign Language classes, went to a delicious Overseas Program dinner, attended Deaf Student Day at TAU, saw the first rain of the season (which, when a cloudy sky is a rare occurance, you can imagine what actual rain is like), and went to a presentation on something related to deafness last night where I met/re-met some very cool people. And I took pictures, בטח.

Anyway, I just didn't want you all think I was having a bad time here, cause the reality is very much the opposite.

"May old acquaintance be forgot..."

Well, my first high holy day in Israel is here: Rosh HaShana (literally "the head of the year"). Rosh HaShana, aside from beginning the new year in the Judaic calendar, is also the beginning of the days of atonement. From Rosh HaShana until Yom Kippur, ten days later, Jews look back on the year that has passed to reflect and also look forward to the coming year. According to Jewish tradition, this is the time when God is writing the Book of Life and deciding who lives and who dies in the upcoming year. So, during the next ten days, Jews atone for their past sins by asking forgiveness of the people in their lives. Once they have atoned with the people on Earth, then can they make amends with God.

Rosh HaShana covers a 48-hour period (unless you're Reform or Reconstructionist and even then it still might), this year from sundown on the 12th until sundown on the 14th. For those of you playing along at home, Rosh HaShana seems extra long this year as sundown on Friday the 14th begins Shabbat. That means all the buses are stopped and all the stores are closed from sundown Wednesday until sundown Saturday. Much grocery shopping was done Wednesday afternoon.

Rosh HaShana, like many Jewish holidays, is also a time of worship and community. Many people travel to spend the holiday with their family or their friends. As Paul and I are ex-pats of a sort (and I'm not even Jewish), we had no place to go. After some e-mailing, though, we ended up at the house of a rabbi with his family and some other congregants.

The synagogue Paul and I have been attending on-and-off the past month is on the liberal side of Conservative. Consisting mainly of retired American Jews who have moved to Israel, it's a far cry from the very conservative synagogues here in Israel and in most of the rest of the world. While most temples separate men and women during the service, this shule not only allows them to sit together but also allows women to participate in the service. They also follow a three-year cycle for reading the Torah, which allows for discussion amongst the congregation after each aliyah, instead of the traditional one-year cycle. Conservative shules aren't common in Israel; there are only 40 in the county and three in Tel Aviv.

The group was comprised as such: the rabbi, his wife, his three daughters, an older woman from the congregation, a Master's student from Montreal who's currently living in Spain and doing research in Israel, Paul, and myself. Of course, this means that introductions must be made all around as most of us don't know each other. Eventually it got around to me, and I said I was here working with the Deaf community and researching for my PhD.

Dvora, the older woman with us, suddenly set her things down, leaned against the table, and stared at me. After a few moments, she signed thank you in Israeli Sign Language followed by, "Sit down; we need to talk". As it turns out, she grew up in Manhattan in the 1940s with two Deaf parents, has written multiple articles about Deaf education both in Israel and America, knows the woman running the Machon where I'm working, and is very much in touch with the Deaf community here in Israel. She also has a book coming out from Gallaudet Press about her experiences growing up with her parents. The Deaf world: it's so ridiculously small.

The evening continued with the kiddush over the wine, and eating the traditional Rosh HaShana foods: round Challah, pomegranate seeds, apples and honey, leeks, carrots, scallions, dates, and beets. In Hebrew, words are formed from a shoresh, or root of three Hebrew letters. The root of the traditional Rosh HaShana foods coincide with the root of other Hebrew words; for example, the Hebrew word for eggplant, chatseel (חציל), is from the same root as "strength/success" (חיל), so eggplants are eaten to be successful and strong in the coming year. Others are more symbolic: pomegranates are said to contain 613 seeds which correlates to the 613 Jewish mitzvot and are eaten to symbolize your remembrance of them.

Through out the meal, different food has different blessings and different meanings. Once the ceremonial food and prayer was out of the way, though, the actual meal began. It was an amazing amount of food but so very, very good. One of the fantastic things about Israel is that all the food here is fresh; the country is slightly smaller than New Jersey, so everything you buy was probably picked the day before, making the food amazingly tasty. We had stuffed cucumbers, a pumpkin/sweet potato soup, salad and wine with pecan pie and oogiote at the end.

The meal ended with grappa, and the singing of the closing prayers. As the daughters of a rabbi, I can only assume that the three of them have heard these prayers sung time and time again. The result, though, was harmonization that would give Nickelcreek, The Indigo Girls, and Simon & Garfunkle a run for their money. Even though I couldn't understand the text, the music and passion being put into the prayers more than made up for it.

The evening ended and we all headed home, only to come back to shule the next morning for services again and the blowing of the shofar. As Rosh HaShana spans two days, this means that the same must happen again the next night. This time, though, we had the meal in the dorms with Paul, Paul's friend David, Posh Dan, and myself. Though not quite as religiously-oriented as the meal the previous night, we managed to whip up some of the traditional foods along with a simple dinner of chicken and couscous. After some lively discussion of the state of Israel and the global community, a few episodes of "Ab Fab", and Paul's brief transformation into a zombie, we called it a night.

And now, Friday afternoon, with a few hours left of the holiday before Shabbat, the new Jewish/academic/Fulbright year has begun. It's time to look back and forward, figure out what we've learned and where we're going, and start the journey into the year ahead. We'll see what it has in store.