A unique program gives abused youngsters a second chance.
by Wendy Elliman
The propellers of the huge aircraft were already turning when nine-year-old Rachel scrambled aboard. It was May 1991, and she, her mother, stepfather, brother and sisters were among tens of thousands of Ethiopian Jews who were airlifted to Israel in a dramatic rescue that made world headlines.
For Rachel, however, that rescue turned out to be desperately incomplete. Life in Israel began in a crowded trailer, where she fell victim to her stepfather's frustration. He began abusing her, first physically, then sexually.
Four years later, Rachel ran away. She was picked up and turned over to the authorities. They placed her in a residential school - and returned her there each time she ran away. After a while, it seemed to Rachel that running away was the only talent she had. She couldn't fit in, couldn't make friends, couldn't learn. Her self-esteem was non-existent; she trusted neither herself nor anyone else.
"This was the Rachel who appeared at our door two years ago," says Miriam Klein, manager of Bet Ashanti, a unique open-house for youngsters in distress, in Tel Aviv. "She was 16, and she'd been running for three years. She heard about us on the street, and simply turned up. We got permission for her to stay."
Stories like Rachel's are not unusual at Bet Ashanti. During its 16 years, more than ten thousand 14- to 21-year-olds have passed through its gates; some stay a few days and others have made it their permanent home. Bet Ashanti's unique methods and remarkable success in helping disturbed youngsters have made it a subject of study not only in Israel but also by academic researchers from nations as distant as Mexico and the Netherlands.
Klein, herself a victim of childhood abuse, and her partner Dino Gershuni began their work by simply opening the doors of their home to troubled teenagers on Friday nights to have a meal together. Some asked if they could stay the night. Then one young woman asked to stay for a week. "I feel a sense of peace here," she said.
There are now 25 to 35 young people living in Bet Ashanti at any one time. "Bet Ashanti evolved as we found we had the strength to give to others," says Gershuni.
Beginning in the family home of Klein and Gershuni, Bet Ashanti remains a family setting where the couple live and raise their own three children, aged 14, 11 and 3. There are no "working hours"; Klein and Gershuni are there for the residents at any time. "We're benign, non-authoritarian parent figures, to whom kids fighting authority can relate," says Gershuni. Household and garden chores are shared, and rules kept to a minimum. The three principal rules are: no drugs, no alcohol, no violence.
"No-one breaks these rules," says Ruth, one of a team of devoted volunteers at Bet Ashanti, "even though almost everyone arrives here as a walking volcano of problems. With nowhere else to go, they see this place as their haven, their lifeline. They're not going to set themselves adrift by breaking its rules."
The informal framework is an important part of the Bet Ashanti approach: it exudes unconditional love and a warm, unconventional family atmosphere, where pop stars sometimes visit and a judge is among the volunteers, coming in to cook dinner on Wednesday nights. But there's more to helping the scarred, alienated children of drug addicts, alcoholics and abusers than the safety and acceptance they find at Bet Ashanti. The second part is based on Klein's training in psychodrama.
"Expressive art therapy - music, drama, dance and art - is a powerful rehabilitation tool," says Klein. "It suits kids from all backgrounds and allows these mistreated young people to express their anger, frustration and misery. Later, it helps strengthen their ego and build self-esteem."
Every afternoon has a specific program in either psychodrama, sculpture, painting, music, theater, dance, or the martial art Capuera. Music therapy can take the form of a communal jam session with everyone contributing, no matter how "off-key". The youngsters' drawings, paintings and sculptures adorn Bet Ashanti and serve as foci for discussion.
Rachel found Bet Ashanti by herself. Many others are referred to this last-chance safety-net by Israel's courts, police and social workers. But Bet Ashanti is not a government institution. Because of its philosophy and the quality of its involvement, it cannot be run according to government regulations.
"The government burdens each juvenile it deals with with a file that follows him or her for life," explains Klein. "Why should a healthy rehabilitated woman who applies for a job have to reveal that she was raped from the age of 10? This is not the Bet Ashanti way. We enable our youngsters to close life-chapters like these for good." As such, Bet Ashanti relies entirely on private donations and grants to cover its running costs.
Rachel is still at Bet Ashanti, but she's a different person from the alienated teenager who arrived two years ago. She has become a lively young woman, physically and mentally healthy, with a spirited attitude towards life. She recently graduated with excellence from a hairdressing course and, more important to her still, began her Israel Defense Forces service in September. "The army took me like I'm a regular Israeli," she says proudly. "I'm finally a part of this country."