BY IRA BERKOW | OTISFIELD, MAINE Here in the piney woods of western Maine, where summer camps abound, a state trooper greets those who approach the shaded, green-gated entrance to one particular camp. “ID,” the officer says succinctly but politely. He checks visitors’ faces against their photos, checks their names against the visitors list.
A half dozen very tall men were checked at the gate today and Tuesday and quickly passed through. Four of them play in the National Basketball Association: Antawn Jamison and Mike Dunleavy of the Golden State Warriors, Brent Barry of the Seattle SuperSonics and Carlos Boozer of the Cleveland Cavaliers. Joining them were B. J. Armstrong, a former N.B.A. player, who is now assistant to the general manager of the Chicago Bulls, and Don Casey, who once coached the Nets.
They came to give a basketball clinic at this unlikely camp, which is called Seeds of Peace. They were brought by their agent, Arn Tellem, who is a camp benefactor.
Living, playing, talking and even sleeping side by side in the camp’s wood cabins are Israeli and Palestinian and other Muslim youngsters ages 13 to 17. Most of the 160 campers are from Middle Eastern countries, though some come from other nations and from the United States. The teenagers know firsthand about the need for security because many of them have experienced the bombings and bloodshed in Israel and the West Bank, and they are victims of the conflict.
Today in the cafeteria at Hebrew University in Jerusalem, there was yet another bombing, killing at least 7 and injuring more than 80.
Far from Jerusalem, the boys and girls attend the camp, in two three-week sessions, because their governments perceive them to be potential leaders. (Of course, the hostilities are never far from their thoughts. The news of today’s explosion brought tears and wailing in pockets of the camp.) If you get to know the person living next door, the concept here maintains, you might not fear or hate that person, and might even get to like and understand and seek to coexist peacefully with him or her.
“Sports are an important part of this camp,” Tellem said. “Teams are made up of people from different regions, so they become teammates instead of adversaries. And basketball has become very popular all around the world. I wanted to bring a mixture of black and white players, so that the campers could see how people from different races and backgrounds can come together and succeed in a group setting.”
Armstrong, in a baseball cap at midcourt, led the basketball clinic as campers, all in green camp shirts as if on the same team, circled him excitedly. Fahed Zoumot, a 17-year-old from Jordan, who says he spends four hours a day playing basketball, was thrilled to meet Armstrong, who played on several teams, including the Bulls.
When a friend, an Israeli girl, asked who Armstrong was, Fahed was taken aback. “It’s B. J. Armstrong,” he said in English. “Come on!”
“O.K.,” Armstrong said to the youngsters, “we’ll start with passing.” Which, perhaps unwittingly, demonstrated a sense of brotherhood, of giving something up for the sake of a greater good.
There was a lot to learn, and not all of the campers were adept. When Armstrong said to dribble left-handed, stop and pass, some dribbled right-handed, did not stop and shoveled the ball to their partners. Armstrong had Barry demonstrate a bounce pass.
“I don’t know if Brent passes during the game,” said Armstrong, proving also that one can gently needle a teammate. Barry simply smiled.
The three-person full-court weave, with boys and girls, Israelis and Arabs, mixed together, turned into a happy form of chaos.
“Well,” Jamison said gently, “there is a willingness to learn.”
Watching from under one basket was Aaron Miller, a senior adviser on Middle Eastern affairs to Secretary of State Colin L. Powell and friend of the camp’s founder, John Wallach. The camp, Miller said, is a place “where generational attitudes can change, where your adversary has a human face.”
“He’s no longer a stereotype,” Miller added, “and you get glimpses of what could be.”
Wallach, who was a journalist and wrote books about the Middle East, started the camp 10 years ago. He received money from private sources, as well as from corporations and the State Department.
Wallach died of lung cancer two weeks ago at the age of 59, but his supporters plan to continue the camp.
“It’s a long-term project,” said Jethro Berkman, who has been a counselor for the last five years. “And 10, 20 years down the road, these kids could be the leaders of their people.”
Some Israelis and Palestinians said that on their first night at camp, they had trouble sleeping because their “enemy” was in the next bed.
“I heard that,” said Dara Dajani, a 15-year-old Muslim from Jerusalem. “But it didn’t happen for me. I traveled here for about 20 hours. I was dead tired. Went right to sleep.”
Her bunkmate and friend – they have been together for two weeks so far – is Hen Sutil, an Israeli Jew from Haifa. Hen said she understood that some teenagers who have returned to their homelands from the camp have been accused of being traitors for coexisting with people who are ordinarily viewed as enemies. “We’re traitors,” she said. “That’s stupid.”
Dara said, “If anyone thinks we’re traitors, they don’t want peace.” Before she came to the camp, Dara said, she thought “all Israelis were bad.”
“But now I understand the Arabic saying, ‘All the birds are like each other,’ ” she said. It is an epigram. “It means that in fact there are many different kinds of birds,” Dara said.
As part of the dialogue, the camp has what are called coexistence sessions. There can be heated exchanges of grievances, with youngsters taking strong positions about the conflict back home.
“I thought all Palestinians were bad, like Dara thought about us,” Hen said. “But I’ve turned 180 degrees. I just didn’t know any Palestinians. But in the coexistence sessions I’ve heard them argue and then say: `Did I hurt your feelings? I’m sorry.’ And they meant it. It was so sweet, so nice.”
Hen talked of living in a land where suicide bombers are a constant threat, of how she stays home more now than she ever did before.
Dara said: “We get scared, too. Our car never gets near a bus.”
Hen’s eyes widened. “Really!” she said.
Both Dara and Hen think that the Palestinians and the Israelis can live side by side in separate states. And for those Palestinians who believe Israel should not exist at all?
“They’d have to get over it,” Dara said.