Makes hummus, not war?

With a background in international law and alternative dispute resolution, my path has often led me through the intricacies of conflict and resolution. Yet, I've come to find that at times, it's through speaking from the heart, writing essays or poems that I unearth the deepest access to express myself, and have a voice that is heard and met with openness. These creative outlets allow me to communicate with a depth that words alone may not capture.

Kanaan Berlin, an Israeli-Palestinian restaurant, defies the odds. Aware of the anti-Semitic attacks on other Israeli shops in Berlin, it stands resolute. It remains open, a testament to its unwavering commitment to its mission of unity through cuisine.

Reflecting on my time in Istanbul, attending a course on Turkish-Greek relations, I vividly recall the weight of shared histories. Yet, amidst it all, there was a clear and common intention—to understand, to bridge the gap. It was a stark reminder of the potential for transformation when individuals come together with open hearts.

After class, some of us would meet and bond over music and food, finding commonalities between Turkish and Greek cultures. While I was an outsider "their" conflict starkly resembled the conflict I had "inherited" followed by the Partition in India, as well as the commonalities of food, music and culture.

I am realizing how powerful those are to build bridges - already the process of mediation and negotiation can be triggering, while just sharing a meal, looking at a piece of art makes us look at each other from different parts of our identity. Art, food, or music are to me mediums that encapsulate the dichotomy of conflict and the willingness to transform and overcome. These forms of expression transcend boundaries, reaching into the core of our shared humanity, where emotions and aspirations converge.

I also remember a secret location where I facilitated a peace-building workshop. Stakeholders from conflicted regions of the Caucasus came together. Though from different backgrounds, we shared an awareness of the conflicts that divided us. In that room, amid the tension, there was an unmistakable willingness to transcend our differences, to find a way forward together.

Kanaan's story hits home for me. It serves as a reminder that change isn't always about grand gestures, but about the determined efforts of a few. It highlights the power of finding common ground, of recognizing our shared humanity in the midst of discord.

Moreover, it underscores the importance of softer tools—art, delicious food, our love and concern for our children—in shaping our collective destiny. These elements, seemingly gentle in nature, have the power to transcend political divides. They act as bridges that bring us together, forging connections that resonate on a political level.

In these moments, I find that having a vision, nurturing hope, and having faith in the possibility of change is paramount. It takes courage to be the change, to stand strong despite and with everything going on around us. I want to be that person, being fully aware of how small I am in the grand scheme of things and yet stay unyielding in my belief that through small, deliberate actions, we can sow the seeds of transformation.