Tariq Nassar has a bright, infectious smile and easy laugh. He’s lived in Tunisia, Germany, and Egypt and speaks effortless English.
As we chat at the storied American Colony Hotel in eastern Jerusalem (“where Oslo began”) gathered around a simple coffee table with a struggling space heater, it’s surprising to learn that this 39-year-old father of two first met a Jew without a gun at age 17.
“My brother invited me to visit him in New Jersey, and I flew there,” Nassar recalls, “and I sat beside this older Jewish man.”
“Being raised in a conservative Muslim family, you don’t see anyone but soldiers. And my community: they don’t differentiate between Jews and the system. It is a balagan.”
Nassar grew up in what he calls a “haredi family” – devout Muslims in the heart of the Old City’s Muslim Quarter.
The youngest of 10 kids, he says that growing up, he had two choices: “be nerdy” and get a scholarship to study abroad or end up like some of his friends.
“I come from a public school where they were like, let’s close the school and throw stones at Jews,” Nassar recalls. “You don’t have a lot of options. If you want an education, you must get a scholarship [to university] because my father cannot afford it.”
Nassar didn’t have much money, but he had a goal: to become an architect and urban planner. He has a double master’s degree in integrated urbanism and sustainable design from Germany’s Stuttgart University and Cairo’s Ain Shams University. He easily could have stayed abroad and continued working, but was drawn back to his Jerusalem home. Nine years ago, shocked by the stabbing intifada, he returned to help.
“When I was finishing my thesis in Germany, I heard about the stabbing phenomenon. I was like, ‘What the hell? Why?’” he remembers. Once home, he spoke to his nieces and nephews, who told him they had no hope. He quickly realized, “We had to have more action and not just talk because only action brings hope.”
Swinging into action
At the same time, he says, he recognized that the newer generation was living in a “gray” community – with only buildings, crumbling sidewalks, and no land on which to sit, play, and dream. “When I grew up, there was vacant land in east Jerusalem and many mountains. We did not have parks, but we had empty spaces. We did not have a soccer field, but we had land to make one,” Nassar says.
He went to the municipality, and they offered him some money to develop these spaces – or “places.” He devised 44 place-making projects in the center of east Jerusalem, quickly implementing the first four or five projects with only NIS 66,000 from the city and another NIS 120,000 he fundraised.
Then he met Matan Israeli, an artist and founder of Muslala. Israeli is known for organizing community events on neglected west Jerusalem rooftops, fostering urban agriculture in unused spaces. Nassar was struck by how Israelis’ work mirrored his vision for finding spaces in east Jerusalem. Visiting Israeli’s rooftops, Nassar realized he could do the same in his community, leading to the Sinsila Project’s founding. Sinsila means “agricultural terraces” in Arabic.
Nassar was then introduced to Israeli biodynamic beekeeping expert Yossi Aud.
“He’s interested in saving the bees. I am not interested in that. I was more interested in how much honey these bees could make and how we could get the Arab women to learn how to keep them.”
Nassar posted on social media and sent WhatsApps to community centers across east Jerusalem. The response by the Arab-Israeli women was striking. He and Aud selected 15 women to learn how to become beekeepers; they met at a local community center. Then, at night – you can only transport bees, sleeping, in the dark – he and Aud delivered boxes of bees to these women, who began making honey, selling it, and changing their lives.
“It is really easy to say but tough to do,” Nassar admits. “For almost a month and a half, we drove these hives to the women every two days.” (He was stung at least 10 times, but “for the greater goal.”)
Those 15 women have become hundreds across the city and other Arab cities and towns throughout Israel. Moreover, it is profitable. The bees produce top-quality honey, sold in various markets throughout Israel. The women keep 75% of their profits, and 25% goes back into Sinsila to train other women and develop new projects for them and their children.
Nassar recently opened a whole floor in one of the community centers where he was developing an innovation hub around 3D modeling, art, carpentry, and woodworking. He says it is like WeWork, but with workshops. He is also developing green curricula for youth to learn urban roof gardening, art, and carpentry, or how to make wax products – candles, lipsticks, and creams. Partially funded by the municipality, some 55% of participants are at-risk youth.
Nassar’s work has been so successful that placemaking has become part of the five-year, government-driven economic plan for east Jerusalem.
Challenges
He says only two things are holding him back: human capacity and mentality.
In east Jerusalem, many areas need more proper planning, leading to challenges in infrastructure development. However, it cannot be changed because most land is privately owned, and these owners don’t want to give up any of their property to the city, even for compensation.
Moreover, says Nassar, unlicensed buildings already occupy many plots due to the absence of planning regulations for over 55 years and the inability to obtain building permits.
Finally, he says, there is not enough trust between residents and the city to reach potential agreements.
This situation is not just about infrastructure; it’s intensely political. Solving land registration issues could lead to more residential units and a shift in Jerusalem’s demographic balance – a hot-button issue that would be met with resistance.
“You need a lot of courage even to talk about it,” Nassar says.
However, his green rooftops give him hope, as do his interactions with program participants in east Jerusalem and friends and mentors in west Jerusalem.
“People need to trust individuals, and they do. It’s not black-and-white. It never is.”
Just like that one Jew changed Nassar’s perspective on the plane, he says that could be all it takes to change someone else’s perspective, too.
“We need to stop judging people by their religion. I am sorry to say this, but this is how we were raised and how most people in Israel are raised. I hear it in west Jerusalem, too; it depends on the family, but... ”
With so many obstacles, why doesn’t Nassar just move away again? He admits he has considered it but loves Jerusalem – its creativity, originality, and intensity. He is also not a person to quickly walk away.
“It’s all about never giving up,” Nassar concludes. ■