Day by Day

So once again I find myself neglecting my writing and unable to understand why; perhaps it's a result of the routine I've settled into in Nablus. I suppose the reason really is not important.

My classes are progressing well. I get the feeling that all of my students, my students of English at both Amideast and the university, the students whom I assist in the English department, and the students who I'm developing the radio program with, are thoroughly enjoying my presence. I must say the feeling is mutual. Seeing their smiling faces everyday makes my life very enjoyable and worthwhile. It may seem like a little thing to those of us who enjoy freedom to the level that we do, but for those who persevere through such difficult circumstances day to day, having the chance to escape for just a few hours can be very beneficial.

Yesterday I spent my day off resting and relaxing. Working six days a week is a bit draining on the mind and body, however nothing close to what I became used to working on the campaigns. I woke up late, at least late for Nablus, at around half passed eight. I had planned to spend the entire day reading a book I'd borrowed from Saed, the former director of the public relations department at the university. A few days ago Saed took Lucy, Alison, and me out to dinner. He treated us to an enormous meal at a western style pizza parlor named "Pizza Hum". We started with soup, moved on to sandwiches, and then Saed ordered both a vegetarian and a supreme pizza. After the meal I felt like the girl in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory who turns into a blueberry. I could imagine them having to roll me back to my flat.

After the meal Saed invited us back to his house for tea. No matter where I go in Palestine I'm always offered two things: a seat and tea. Whether I'm at a supermarket, a friend's house, or the bank, everyone offers you their seat and a cup of tea. When we arrived at Saed's house the trip from the car to his living room took us about twenty minutes. It was not because the time it took to walk was so long, it was because Saed told us the story of his mother, the story of how one day, while she sat knitting on her porch, she was gunned down by the Israeli Defense Forces. I must say that I'm no longer comfortable referring to them with this title.

They were doing nothing wrong, nothing at all. Saed and the rest of his family were nearly killed as well. The glass to the front door was shattered, and instead of replacing it, he had done his best to patch it up, so that everyday he would be reminded of the injustice the Israelis had done to his family. He showed me the spot were she sat, where the bullet had hit the wall after going clear through her head, and where the Israeli jeep had been parked throughout the whole ordeal. Saed is a very intelligent man and he put this on display after her murder by using the western press to his advantage in trying to achieve justice. You can read more about his mother's murder on http://www.remembershaden.org/, but I thought I would post a poem that Saed wrote in her honor:

February 15, 2007
(On the sixty sixth birthday of Martyr Shaden Abdel Qader Al Saleh Abu-Hijleh)

On the altar of love
An angel came from above
To take her soul away from all
On a journey like that of prophets
To the lands of the first call
The home of martyrs and divine poets.

On that day Shaden didn't die
And today, Feb 15, is her birthday
Sixty six years of love, struggle, and tears
For the children of Palestine
And the earth that is yours and mine.

Sixty six years she is today
Despite the bullets that killed her yesterday
Or was it four years ago?
A heart in love with her would not know
Earthly time in this case does not show.

In birthdays we give presents to those who we love
But what present can you give to a person who is Love
This is the greatest challenge of all
Only divine help can prevent the fall.

A party for her I shall make
The sweetest cake I shall bake
Family and friends I invite
Sixty six candles we must light
A promise & oath we must make
We will not stop the fight
The chains of the oppressor we must break
Peace and justice for children's sake.
-------------------------------------------------

His mother's death is just one reminder of the human cost of this occupation. Not a day goes by in which I don't hear someone's story. Everyone has a story. Whether it be a friend, a cousin, or a mother, every Palestinian has suffered the loss of loved ones.

Every now and then after work a few of us go out for coffee and to smoke Argilah. Always a mixed crowd of internationals and local volunteers, we enjoy each other's conversation, laughs, and smiles. A few days past my friend Shamekh joined us. During a lull in the conversation I noticed that his eyes were watering up. I asked him what was bothering him and he responded to me, "I'm remembering my friend...he die...during intifada". During the second intifada Shamekh was in Jerusalem with his best friend. A skirmish erupted between a group of Palestinian boys, a group which included Shamekh and his friend, and the IDF. After being pelted with stones thrown by the group of children the IDF soldiers opened fire, killing Shamekh's friend and a few others. There's a large scar on Shamekh's right hand where a bullet passed through. I wanted to tell him I knew what it felt like, and that I was sorry, but the reality is I don't know what it feels like to lose a best friend in such circumstances. My words would have been just that, words. All I could do was pat him on the back and try to comfort him. The tears subsided a few minutes later and his smile returned with its familiar vigor. I knew he was only fighting the emotions that were bottled up inside of him, and that at some point, inevitably, they would re-emerge. It's not something you ever get over, I'm sure. I guess the point is that no peace agreement will heal the scars of people like Saed and Shamekh; their pains run much deeper than those which can be soothed by diplomacy. In the future, when the Palestinians and the Israelis live side by side in peace, I hope the world will look back at the tortures which have been afflicted on these people with sorrow and look towards a future in which the safety and the security of one people will not be achieved through the sacrifices of another.

As I said, I spent my Friday reading, most of the time on my balcony. I sat in the morning with the sun beating on my face. Book in one hand, Argilah in the other. My roommate Fedi joined me throughout the morning. His English is improving with my presence, which goes for most of my roommates. He told me how life is difficult without a women. "The washing, the cooking, very difficult", he explained. Women's rights in Palestine is a very interesting topic of discussion, one I hope to write about soon. Fedi and I sat looking out over the city of Nablus. It was warm, comfortable and with my argilah, book, and tea I felt very fortunate. I think Fedi felt the same way, but I also imagined his feeling of freedom to be ephemeral. I could simply get up and leave Nablus if I wanted; say that's enough, I've had it, I'm moving on. Fedi however can do no such thing. The view from our balcony is dominated by one sight which for Palestinians serves as a reminder of the freedom of mobility which has been stripped from them: an Israeli military base which sits atop one of the two mountains which enclose the city of Nablus. With the words Allahu Akbar Fedi left to go to the Mosque and pray. This liberty had not yet been stripped from him.