YEDID center visit in Tel Aviv Part 1

Last Wednesday I had the pleasure of spending a few hours at the YEDID citizen rights center in Tel Aviv. In short, this is a place whose doors are open to any Israeli seeking help with a broad array of financial, legal, and other social problems who have been unsuccessful solving their issue through the regular bureaucratic channels. YEDID translates to 'friend' in English, and that's precisely what people find here; someone to listen and care enough to work until there is a resolution, not just until the clock hits 5 and it's time to go home for the day. Needless to say, it's super busy. Maya and Sarah were my very gracious hosts, and I had a great time talking with them about their roles, and also chatting with a couple clients who were nice enough to share their stories with me. I knew immediately after leaving the center that I would need to write two installments on this visit, because I saw and learned way too much to pack into one post. Furthermore, I experienced both sides of the aisle at the center, first talking to Maya and Sarah who work there, and then meeting with some of the clients who they work for. So today I'll talk about the work that these ladies and the others put into the center.

One of the first things that struck me at the center was the contrast between the mood and the work. The work is heavy but the mood is light, and you get the feeling that that balance is crucially important. As soon as I walked into Maya's office, the jokes commenced. Yuval, an accomplished lawyer and deputy director of all the centers, popped in to say hello. When he's not buried in his responsibilities to YEDID, apparently he's telling bad jokes. He clowned Maya for a few minutes about the color of her pants (they were a lovely pale blue) before sharing that he had just told the young receptionist at the front desk that his all black ensemble was in mourning for his father's death. She seemed understandably uncomfortable, which made him laugh since his dad died years ago. It's probably safe to say that a lot of the time Yuval is the main one laughing at his jokes. I'd be lying if I said Maya and I weren't mildly amused. I guess in this line of work you can't always be so serious.

I sat with Maya and Sarah and they talked to me a bit about what their daily routines involve, and went over some specific cases that touched them personally. It's obvious that the plight of some clients leaves them deeply affected. Maya said that the previous week, she cried for the first time since she had been here, over a mother who had apologized to her son for no longer being able to take care of him. With so many stories like this to face daily, I'd be fighting back tears every day. But these women are strong. A familiar theme that I'd first heard at the Rahat center repeated itself here - that clients' mental and emotional states are often times fragile at best. I asked what kind of sensitivity training or protocol is in place to deal with such clients. Maya answered that there is some protocol to follow in certain cases, when clients seem extremely down or suicidal. But in that moment, face to face with someone so frustrated that they are ready to give up on life altogether, I imagine recalling the proper protocol must be difficult. "It's too heavy for me...I immediately take things to the practical side," says Maya, about client interactions that take an emotional detour she feels unequipped to navigate."Sometimes I feel the sorrow of the entire world is on our shoulders," Maya says. I know she shares in the clients' pain, and yet, she is smiling as she tells me. In fact, she smiled our entire conversation. It's clear that despite these obstacles, Maya and Sarah love their work at the center. 

It's amazing that we got through our conversation at all, given that every other sentence was punctuated by a knock at the door. A steady stream of volunteers needed answers to questions, and pronto, as we sat in Maya's office. At one point an adorable elderly gentleman with a cane came in to exchange a few words. Before I could ask what brings him to the center for help, I'm told he's here to offer it to others. Isaac is an octogenarian volunteer who can't type. He brings a warm smile to both Sarah and Maya's faces. He's wonderful and sharp they say. He's one of 75 volunteers who work at the center, ages 14 to mid 80's, from all walks of life. Not every volunteer comes to the center by choice, either. Some are required as part of community service sentences handed down by the courts. Some of these people, Maya says, are the most inspiring, because they end up staying after their sentence is completed. We agree that this is a really beautiful thing - to be 'punished' into helping strangers, and end up liking it so much they just can't stop. It's no wonder Maya is inspired by these volunteers. She and the others who willingly and lovingly put in long hours at the center are not too much unlike these forced volunteers. At any point, they could look for a new job, one where they don't have the weight of total strangers' problems on their backs, where they use their advanced degrees to earn big salaries, or where they don't clock in unpaid overtime on a regular basis. But they know these clients will keep coming back, so they do the same. They also just can't stop.