As the summer ended, a handful of bright young doctors from Jordan, Israel, Palestine and Canada ate lunch and chatted in a comfortable uptown backyard.
The setting was sunny and sylvan, the talk was easy and the menu included two kinds of pesto.
Under normal circumstances, given the intricate and painful history of their countries, these doctors would never have met each other, let alone worked and played and dined together.
They are friends now.
For this, you may thank Dr. Arnold Noyek. You have met him in this space before. He is the city’s pre-eminent ear, nose and throat man; he is also a whirlwind of persuasion, a force of nature, and a guy who finds solutions to problems no one else dares to solve.
For example, under the radar of any government, he has, for many years, led teams of doctors into refugee camps in the Middle East to operate on kids born with hearing problems.
That program continues, and has evolved to create jobs for deaf kids, who now manufacture hearing aids for use in the region; if that isn‘t an Arnie solution, I don’t know what is.
The program that brings the young Middle Eastern doctors here is called The International Paediatric Emergency Medicine Elective.
It, too, is Arnie’s brainchild.
It is designed to promote the study of global health and pediatrics. It is also designed to build bridges of understanding. This is the 10th year of the program. There are roughly 100 alumni so far.
I sat with some of this year’s doctors.
Basel is from Palestine. “I just graduated. I have a refugee background. I was raised, for 12 years, near one of the camps.”
Hisham is Jordanian, with Palestinian roots. “I grew up middle-class, but my family has a refugee background; my father and mother grew up in the camps.”
Uri is in his sixth year of study and is training to be a neurosurgeon. “I was raised in New York, but Israel is where I am from.”
And Belle is from Ottawa; she is in her third year of med school. “I am a first-generation immigrant from China.”
They are, as a collective, almost Canadian; what was it like for them to live and work together here?
Hisham: “A usual day? Classes in global health and pediatrics; evening shifts at Sick Kids’; and on the weekend, social activities.”
Uri: “I was excited to come to Sick Kids’; it’s world-renowned. And the program — to spend a lot of time with people who are not Israelis? I learned we are literally the same.”
Belle: “For me, it was seeing how similar people are, in spite of our different religions, or nations.”
Impressions of Toronto?
Basel: “The diversity; everyone is from everywhere; languages, religions, colours . . . here, we can go out and feel safe. The people of Toronto are very kind, they just over-react with politeness.”
On a good day, yes we do.
What work they do here that stands out in their memory? Uri: “I helped diagnose a kid with a brain tumour; we were checking the kid, the eye was coming out of the socket.” Yikes.
Basel: “The Canadian health care system is way better than the system in Palestine. But here, it is not crowded; it’s like a regular day in a hospital — you don’t feel like it’s Emergency.”
I remind you that he is from Palestine and, no, I did not ask what a regular day was like for him there.
There was some talk of our socialized system of medicine; they all agreed it was better than a system which depends on charity, as do some of theirs.
I did not tell them that our system leans increasingly towards the same, etc. Did they, um, talk politics?
Uri: “There are sensitive points.” Basel: “I reached this belief: we are not going to change all the problems, but to have young physicians who know they can do something . . . ” He did not need to finish the sentence.
Hisham: “Do I have doubts that Jews have been victims? No. Do I have doubts that we have been victims? No. But since we have the same tragedy, we should work it out.”
Breathtaking.
What else, apart from friendship and understanding, will they take back? Uri: “Tons of maple syrup.” He laughed, and then got serious: “I want to do an exchange between the West Bank and Israel.”
And when Alon, a young Israeli doctor, saw us huddled together, he came over and said, “If you had been with us for the month, you wouldn’t understand why there is not peace.
“We’re not going to change the world, but we can be creative together. We’re not naïve. But peace starts between people.”
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