The Latest at Goethe

Where there are no libraries, the books have to come to the children. In the West Bank, the Goethe-Institut now put literature on wheels – with the Bibliobus. A daily report by Hanne Bohmhammel

“7:45 am” writes Jonas Witsch in the book bus vehicle log. “From: Ramallah, Goethe-Institut, To: Beit Sahour, Peter Nettekoven School” is in the field above. He is sitting in the driver’s seat of the colourfully painted Bibliobus. Behind him, on two shelves, over a thousand German, Arabic and French books are stored on the left side, covered by grey rolling grilles. I sit down next to Jonas on the passenger seat. He turns the ignition key. We leave the courtyard of the Franco-German Cultural Centre in Ramallah, where two years ago the idea for a mobile library originated that would supply Palestinian children and young people with literature in spite of travel restrictions between cities like Nablus, East Jerusalem, Ramallah and Bethlehem. “If the Palestinian children can’t get to the libraries, then the library just has to come to the children,” according to Joerg Schumacher, director of the Goethe-Institut, which operates in Ramallah together with the French CCF as the Franco-German Cultural Centre.

8:15 am: Fresh air streams through the open bus window. The voice of the Lebanese singer Fairouz booms out onto the highway. We still have over an hour’s time to reach the school in Bethlehem. Ahead of us are 50 kilometres of serpentine roads and two checkpoints. “We drive around Jerusalem twice each week,” Jonas tells me. “That way we can avoid long waiting times and possible bus searches at the crossover between the West Bank and Israel.” He has been working as the coordinator for the book bus project for three months, manages contacts with schools and teachers, the lending system, the media inventory and, after nearly two years of project planning, is the first to really drive this bus. Before the colourful bus could begin to travel Palestinian roads, it already had a long journey. It began in Frankfurt am Main and then took the sea route from Hamburg to the Israeli port of Ashdod, where the bus was closely examined by the customs authorities – for a few months. It finally arrived in Ramallah in February.

8:30 am: Stop. Go. Stop. Go. Far ahead, a white cottage glows in the sunlight. In front of it are two young men in Israeli uniforms. Car for car, they check IDs, vehicles and people. Usually we don’t have to wait here long. Since we are only travelling from one town to another within the West Bank, the controls are not so strict. “Shalom,” “Shalom.” Jonas hands them our red passports and the white “embassy cards” through the window. He is asked to get out briefly and open the rear hatch. When I pull up the jalousies in front of the shelves from inside, the two checkpoint soldiers grin. Everything full of children’s books. The shorter one gives us the thumbs up. Jonas waves.

10:40 am: “So sorry we’re late,” Jonas says to Ms Saif, German teacher at Peter Nettekoven School in Beit Sahour. “Oh, that’s all right. We’re used to it.” She smiles and shakes our hands. “You never know here how long it will take.” She has the school gate opened for us. It’s long recess time. We drive at walking pace between hundreds of pupils over the asphalt schoolyard. Children hammer on the bus from the outside. It’s quieter and less dangerous in the streets of Ramallah.

10:57 am: “What’s your name?” “What’s your name?” we are asked from all sides. Jonas stands in front of the bus surrounded by children in red school uniforms. “My name is Jonas and I’m from the Bibliobus. What are your names?” “I’m Samira.” “My name is Chenri.” “I’m Abbia.” “Heather.” “Mohammed.” “Ali.” “Maria.” All of them want to speak to him at once. But then the bell rings and recess is over.

11:05 am: We prepare the bus for library operation: We switch on the television mounted outside and set small, white tables with coloured chairs in front of the bus. It’s open. Just as Samira Safadi imagined it two years ago when she began planning the project. “Freedom of movement is highly restricted here with the checkpoints and the over 700-kilometre long border blockade that separates the West Bank from Israel,” said the library director at the Goethe-Institut Ramallah. “That is why we bring the books to the people.”

11:15 am: Jonas waits in front of the bus for the teacher, Ms Saif, who is now marching towards the bus with her seventh grade class. I am sitting on the passenger seat turned 180 degrees at a brown wooden table in the bus. “Hello! I’m Jonas, and this is the Bibliobus,” he tells the twelve and thirteen-year old pupils that surround him. He is speaking very slowly in German and points first to himself and then to the Bibliobus. “We have books in German, French and Arabic that you can borrow. You enter the bus, pick out a book and take it to Hanne in front,” his hand waves in my direction. “Tell her your name and the name of the book you want to borrow.” And the stampede begins.

11:40 am: All around me it’s quiet. Pupils are sitting all about with books in their hands, reading. Some are at the tables, others in a circle on the ground and others alone in the shade on the stairs of the school entrance. Even the German teacher is surprised. “Actually, my classes are pretty wild. I never thought that the children could be so quiet and engrossed.” Yet, in a few minutes the hour is over and the next class is arriving. With their books tucked under the arms, Ms Saif’s children walk away.

1:31 pm: The caretaker opens the school gate for us. “Are you on Facebook? Can we be your friends?” Three pupils approach Jonas just as he is about to get into the bus. “Maha salame, boys! See you in two weeks!” he bids them farewell.

“3:05 pm”, writes Jonas in the vehicle log. We are back in Ramallah. The bus needs to be prepared for the next day but it will have to wait. Our stomachs are as empty as the bookshelves. Jonas slams the bus door shut. The flying book bee painted on the outside of the bus shudders. She will fly again tomorrow.


The author studies Political Science at the Freie Universität Berlin. She got to know the Bibliobus project as a trainee. The bus is a project by the Goethe-Institut operated by the Franco-German Cultural Centre in Ramallah together with the Tamer Institute for Community Education with kind support from the Fonds Elysées, the Quattan Center for the Child and Mercedes Benz.