The Atfaluna Society for Deaf Children runs a school for 275 non-hearing children, but the classrooms have been empty for almost six weeks because there isn’t enough fuel to bus the learners to school.
”What you need to understand about Atfaluna is that for many children this is not just their school, it is their whole life,” says Suad Lubbad, the school’s administrative director.
Every day parents call the Atfaluna Society for Deaf Children in Gaza City to ask Suad when the school will reopen. It was forced to close without notice in mid-April because chronic fuel shortages brought to a standstill the buses that normally transport the learners to school. With the majority of private cars in the Gaza Strip off the roads and taxi fares doubling in the past eight weeks, there is no alternative transport for the school children, who are now stranded at home.
Suad says many of Atfaluna’s learners depend on the school for their social contact. ”Many are very isolated at home because they literally have no one to communicate with,” she says. ”They feel that they belong here because we really respect them. All the staff use sign language and we also work to support them at home by teaching their parents sign language and encouraging them to use it.”
Most of the learners come from poor homes, so Atfaluna provides them with one hot meal a day, which, Suad says, dramatically improves their ability to concentrate. The school also offers pupils hearing aids with batteries. The hearing aids are expensive, costing at least $400. But Atfaluna hasn’t received new hearing aids or batteries since the Israeli authorities prevented a consignment from entering Gaza six months ago.
”There is now an acute shortage of hearing aids and the appropriate batteries in Gaza,” says Suad. ”If a child has been using a hearing aid and the battery is finished, then his abilities will start to deteriorate. Eventually it will be as though he learnt nothing. The vast majority of children attending our school have been diagnosed as profoundly deaf, so they really depend on hearing aids. And now they are being punished by the siege.”
There are about 25 000 deaf and hearing-impaired people in the Gaza Strip, many of whom have no specialist support service. The Atfaluna Society for Deaf Children was set up in Gaza in 1992 by an American, Gerry Shawa, who has lived in Gaza city since 1971. It started out in a rented house, with a small team of volunteers supporting 27 deaf and hearing impaired children. Sixteen years later it has 168 employees, runs a full-time school and has a specialist outreach team of social workers who are all proficient in Arabic sign language.
In addition to the school, Atfaluna runs an advanced studies programme for older students who struggled in mainstream education and now want to improve their literacy skills. This programme also had to be suspended because of the fuel crisis, but it resumed a week ago, although the main school has had to stay closed.
Iman (18) and Fadwa (21) attend the programme. Using sign language, the young women explain what Atfaluna means to them.
”When our classes were suspended, I was just stuck at home,” says Fadwa. ”My brothers and sisters were going to the local school, so I was at home alone and I started to feel very low. They had stuff to talk about when they came home, but I had been doing nothing. I don’t really feel as though I fit into my own community sometimes. But I get a lot of respect at this school and I have many friends here. I’m glad to be back.”
”Life is getting worse in Gaza because of the siege,” says Iman. ”My family is already struggling and when I am stuck at home all day it puts more pressure on them and me. They don’t always want to sign with me so I get lonely.”
The fuel crisis imposed by Israel, which is disrupting education in schools across the Gaza Strip, has hit special-needs learners hard. Schools are struggling to cope with insufficient resources, shortages of electricity, low morale and a public transport system that simply cannot cope with the demand.
Suad and her colleagues do not know when they will be able to reopen their school. Meanwhile, their 275 learners are being denied their right to an education and remain stranded at home.
”Our pupils often joke that this is actually their school, not ours,” says Suad. ”They have great potential as individuals, and we just want them to be able to come back as soon as possible.” — Â