October 5, 2002 — Mudeif Productions

At 5:00 this morning, tanks swarmed the city streets of Nablus. At 6:00, they began to open fire to get people's attention (it works very well) and to announce the imposition of strict curfew. No time limit, no details, simply, "Curfew. It is forbidden to leave your homes. If you do, you will be shot. Curfew." There was little sleeping to be done after that point - the bedrooms all face the street (particularly with the compound wall destroyed), so the family gathered in the common room to stay safe. Meanwhile, the morning tea boiled over in the kitchen - that's where the last damage to the home was done, bullets bursting through the metal window shutters and lodging into the ceiling.

*Israeli tank prowling the streets, announcing curfew, and firing.*

Marthame was supposed to leave today, but there's not even an ambulance to be found roaming the streets. Instead, the constant grind of tanks. There's an impending feeling that accompanies their arrival - loudly squeaking and belching, but just out of sight. Then they emerge, the gun turrets moving on their own, then opening fire. Nablus' location between Mount Ebal and Gerizim adds echo to it all, making it that much more claustrophobic. Nobody's shooting back, but that doesn't seem to matter. Curfew is announced (as if there was any doubt of going to work or school), and parents warn their children not to open the doors. Life these days.

*Living under Occupation is stressful and wearying.*

Eventually, the tanks moved on from our intersection, allowing the Greek Orthodox priest Fr. George enough time to come over from his nearby home for a visit and a little backgammon. He refused to let Marthame film him playing - somehow not deemed appropriate for a man of the cloth to dally in such pursuits. But the sound of the dice, his Byzantine prayers, and the Japanimation cartoon the kids were watching created a stunning montage.

*Traveling with hospital staff by ambulance to get out of Nablus.*

In Zababdeh, today is a day off, commemorating Mohammad's night visitation to Jerusalem. Elizabeth enjoyed an extra day off, using it to catch up on grading and a host of tasks "on the back burner" since our return to Zababdeh in August.

*As far as the ambulance could take us.*

In the early afternoon, Marthame got a call from St. Luke's Hospital. The employees from Zababdeh had arranged for an ambulance and were heading home. They picked up Marthame and headed to the edge of town. Most people joked uncomfortably as the vehicle passed through the empty streets - the accountant prayed fervently. The last time, they had been stopped outside of town and made to turn back, descending a steep mountain into a valley where they couldn't be spotted. This time, we were more fortunate. We arrived at the bulldozed road to 'Asira without incident, even at the crossing of the Israeli military road. Ambulance is the only way to travel on a day like today.

Marthame arrived back in town in time to clean up for a friend's wedding. As the village descended to the party, the buzz was that Israeli jeeps just passed through town. Apparently they had stopped on the main road for a few minutes before moving on - seems hardly worth mentioning given three days in Nablus (or even three hours in Nablus).

We went home, but could still hear the party raging for several more hours. This was the first wedding party held outside since the second Intifada started two years ago. As in the first Intifada, most celebrations are minimal, and held indoors out of respect for the struggle's dead and mourning. However, at some point, folks also have the inclination to try to live their lives as normally as they can. Still, as celebratory as this party seemed to us, it doesn't compare to pre-Intifada fetes, which could last several days. It's nice for us to reflect back on our first wedding here two years ago, where everyone was staring at these strangers in their midst. They're still staring, but we feel very much at home here. And that's wonderful.

Tonight is Marthame's sister's birthday, so a celebratory phone call (in Arabic and English) seemed in order.