A beautiful thing about Amer is that friendly faces are always found during our time on the road. Whether it’s the students from other classes shouting “hello” from the balconies, or the curious neighbors inviting us in. Strolling down the streets and paths, cameras dangling from our wrists, we’d occasionally see the elderly peeking out of doorways signaling for us to take their portraits. Over the course of my past few months here at the Tushita Foundation, I’ve had the pleasure of interacting with the community of Amer in an unforgettable way. Through sharing my excitement for architecture with the Rose and Lily classes, I was able to get an intimate glimpse into the lives of our students in their village and in their own homes.

We were able to utilize cameras graciously given by Outside the Lens to conclude our time in class together which was spent learning about just what makes a house and what makes a home. The excitement over photography was palpable from more than just the students. Even painters, perched high on ladders adding beautiful bright purple paint to complement green walls, asked the children for their own photo shoot. We’ve been warmly welcomed down winding paths into an orchard to pick fragrant fruit from trees. One woman even jumped higher than all of us, and in one swoop grasped a branch filled with the little gems of fruit that were once unfamiliar to me.  We took these cameras with us on small journeys through Amer to each child’s dwelling where we were able to capture, through their own unique perspectives, just what makes their home so special.

In these instances, I’ve been able to appreciate just how incredible these students are outside of the classroom. From the start, I’ve known just how special they were; from their eagerness to learn and to ask questions, to their thoughtfulness and generosity in showering us with hugs and handmade gifts after class. They make the Foundation a pleasure to be in. It’s no wonder that while learning about the difference between a house and a home they enthusiastically categorize Tushita as the latter because for them it is a place to play, learn, and grow with friends they cherish. By the same token, and from what I’ve seen on our walks, these attitudes translate seamlessly to their environment outside of the classroom. The care and love they show for people in their community is heartwarming. It goes to emphasise the idea we go over in class; home can be further than just the walls that surround us. Having known these kids for some time, it was still enchanting to see just how their manners, sense of respect, and compassion also translate to their community outside the walls of the Tushita Foundation. This, of course, is reciprocated by the community members in our shared interactions.

Most of the time when we visit a house we have to kindly refuse all the sweets in order to continue on our journey and reach other houses. Our unexpecting hosts, nonetheless, bring out all the water we could need. One day, in particular, it was extremely hot and I couldn’t resist. I was confused that what I was drinking was being poured out of a labelless-detergent-like-can, but I was also three hours into the walk. What hit my mouth was the most delicious thing I had ever tasted, rose water. Refreshing is an understatement, heavenly is closer to the truth. Sweets and treats are offered to all the children from the parents and grandparents regardless of whether they’ve known them previously and regardless of religious differences.

This sense of respect for others, especially across religious differences, was in fact what partially drew me to the Foundation. While indiscernible to me at first glance, after a few walks through Amer I was able to pick up on these slight variations that signal an invisible boundary has been traversed. Upon entering different parts of the village you notice subtle distinctions unfolding as the inhabitants’ faiths change. It is noticeable, for instance, in the attire that transforms as little girls and boys make their way running around the corners to reach the mosque for prayer.  As I’ve come to understand, the children go to the same schools, regardless of religion, but at the Tushita Foundation children of all faiths are given the space for and encouraged to play together. This makes interactions easier and consequently, forms strong friendships that cross any differences that I perceive while walking around. With the Tushita Foundation, the students have a reason to enter the home of a family with a different religion or walk through the different neighborhoods. They are warmly welcomed into these homes thanks to the foundation and the students’ willingness to share something so personal with each other.  One of the reasons I was so drawn to the Tushita Foundation when learning about it was that through the pursuit of education, it had become a de-facto community center for families of different religious backgrounds who wouldn’t necessarily get a chance to mix and engage with each other. Coming from the U.S. during a growing climate of intolerance, this really resonated with me. I found this exchange across religions, however humble, inspirational and I wanted to be in an atmosphere that fosters this delicate exchange.

In another contrast from the land I left, I have been captivated by the sense of pride found in the homes of the children we would visit. Proud people in circumstances that others may not find glorious, yet they find glory in what they do have. Proud of their work, proud of where they live, proud of their children and proud of themselves- as they should be. Without prior notice, the parents would open up the doors to their homes for us and happily show us around. As we would enter, the faces of the children and parents glowed with satisfaction. The students would come alive in their element. As part of the students’ projects, they crafted poems to accompany the portraits they took in their house. Each student got a chance to reflect on just what made their house a home in their opinion. Some would run to their bedside shelves to show off awards and flower bouquets, other students were beaming as they introduced us to their grandparents, carefully finding a spot next to them as to not disturb their comfort. Still, others would run into rooms to find and pick up their precious baby siblings to bring back to us for a photo, holding them in a warm embrace.

Our student, Bilal, once soft-spoken, shined as he showed off his house of exposed brick and dim lights. He glowed in this environment. He hopped up onto the terrace to airplane-walk across the thin wall to the top of his house where he has collected a myriad of things like branches and ribbons. It is his secret hideaway containing his prized possessions. These little moments of sharing while witnessing people in their comfort zone at home have brought me so much joy these last few months in Amer. Along the way, we’ve been able to witness the strong sense of community that permeates throughout and just how much love is collected around the home and town in general. I feel honored to be able to play my part in facilitating these interactions between families and students.