Peacekeepers of the mind

The yoga instructor chuckles and the three-dozen or so women follow along, giggling nervously before bursting through some invisible layer of restraint or sorrow and laughing with abandon.

Grins widen into smiles, tentative squeals bloom into full-bore howls.

The yoga instructor is teaching inner peace but he is also trying to keep the peace: He is Warrant Officer Mal Singh of the Indian Army, part of a 30-year-old United Nations force stationed in southern Lebanon.

The laughs die out, some of the women wiping tears from their eyes as they gather up their handbags and head home.

“If we feel peace inside ourselves, maybe we will have peace,'' says Hoda Munzer, a 35-year-old owner of a nearby clothing shop, who has taken a break from work to attend the class with her 9-year-old daughter, Sueen, in this hilltop community of Ebel Al Saqi near the Israeli border.

For decades, southern Lebanon has been shaken by war, most recently in 2006, when fighting between Israel and Hezbollah displaced 1 million people and wrecked dozens of towns and villages.

The United Nations Interim Force in Lebanon, or UNIFIL, has been here since March 23, 1978, its numbers bolstered to about 13,000 after the 2006 conflict.

While serving here, the blue-bereted troops also try to heal the psychic wounds of traumatised residents, serving as cultural ambassadors of sorts.

In addition to the Indian troops' yoga instructions, French troops have given the many Francophone residents courses in poetry.

Chinese troops demonstrate tai chi and the South Koreans offer tae kwon do. The Spaniards teach “español'', now trendy in Lebanon. Italians have shown off their pizza-making skills.

And what about the German troops? The hundreds-strong German contingent makes up the bulk of the mission's maritime forces, out at sea patrolling for arms smugglers.

The UN peacekeepers also offer medical and dental clinics and computer classes and they have plans to supply more artificial limbs for people wounded by old landmines and ordnance.

The efforts are all meant to endear the troops to a local population that has violently resisted incursions by Israeli, French, American and Syrian forces over the decades.

“When we do such things, it brings us closer to the people,''
said Major Rishi Raj Singh of the 850-strong Indian battalion stationed in Ebel Al Saqi.

“The return is immeasurable. We don't spend a lot of money and it's immensely popular.''

The efforts are part of the changing nature of UN peacekeeping operations since they began on May 29, 1948, when the fledgeling world body dispatched its first batch of blue-helmeted international troops to maintain a truce between Israel and its Arab neighbours.

The South Koreans teach tae kwon do in workshops that attract up to 50 young students, many of them on edge over Lebanon's conflicts.

“Tae kwon do helps release their frustration and stress and gives them ... what do you call it? Catharsis?'' Major Chang Sec-jeun of the South Korean force based near Burj Rahhal said.

“We learn to concentrate and control ourselves,'' says Abbas Hammoud, 13, who, like many children, suffered nightmares after the 2006 war. “And to defend ourselves.''

No one claims that tae kwon do will prevent young men from joining sectarian militias.

But the middle- and high-school boys taking the classes are in the same demographic group as the shebab, or young dudes, who scuttle around on motorbikes in Beirut, northern Lebanon and the Bekaa Valley.

These teenagers fire at rival gangs, starting skirmishes with sectarian overtones. Dozens have died in such violence over the last year.

“It [tae kwon do] is not just physical training,'' Chang says. “It's also mental and spiritual.''

For Indian soldiers, yoga has been an integral part of training for many years.

The battalion decided to begin classes for residents after arriving in Ebel Al Saqi in the wake of the 2006 war.

Lieutenant Colonel G.S. Rupal of the Indian Army says: “If you are able to calm the individual down, you can improve the bonds of society.''

The Indians teach pranayama, a style of yoga that emphasises breathing.

In one pose, the women turn their heads to the side and take short sharp breaths through their noses. In another, they hum like bees.

Singh reminds participants to exhale. An interpreter roams the room and repeats his words in Arabic.

He bends into the shape of a hairpin. “How can he do that?'' one woman asks aloud. “He's very flexible.''

The students are mostly homemakers in this picturesque Christian and Druze enclave, its rolling hills and emerald valleys tangled up in geopolitics. Yoga, tae kwon do and pizza are temporary salves.

But for at least an hour a week, the women concentrate on personal serenity, not the ever-present possibility of war.

“Yes, there have been many wars but everybody here loves life,'' says Amal Ashqar, a 32-year-old with dark brown hair to her shoulders.

“Yoga teaches us about flexibility and friendship. We think about the way we breathe and the way we stand. It gives us peace.''