October 15, 2003

Elizabeth and Andrea accompanied and filmed Afaf, another film subject, as she went to volunteer for a few hours with the Sisters of Charity (Mother Theresa's order). Elizabeth and Marthame had visited their convent/orphanage several times before, although not recently. It was nice to see a few familiar faces among the sisters and also Fr. Dominick, a charming retired Italian priest who served in Zababdeh in the 1960s. The sisters care for around ten elderly women who have no families to take them in and physically and mentally disabled children to the age of six. We filmed our friend as she distributed candy bars to the ladies, and told a Joha story to them:

(Joha is a Palestinian folkloric character who is alternately very clever and very stupid.)

The Sultan challenged Joha and offered him a prize if he could spend a whole night on a mountain top, alone without shelter or clothing. So Joha stayed the whole long cold naked night on the summit, with only a candle to keep him warm. In the morning he put on his clothes and went to collect his prize from the Sultan.

"Did you spend the night without anything?" asked the Sultan.

"Yes, nothing but the light of a small candle."

The Sultan got angry and said that Joha didn't deserve the prize since he'd cheated. Some time later Joha invited the Sultan for a meal. It was getting late and the Sultan was getting hungry. "Is the food ready yet?"

"Oh, soon, soon." More time passed.

"Is the food ready yet?"

"Oh, soon. soon."

Eventually the Sultan could not bear it any longer and insisted the food must be ready. Joha took him to the kitchen. Rice and beans were in a pot, hung over a candle. "I don't know why the food isn't ready. That candle kept me so warm all night on the mountain top."

The next day Joha received his prize.

After sharing with the ladies, we filmed Afaf as she helped feed the children their lunch, a mash of rice and squash. The children here vary in abilities from seemingly comatose to capable of a couple words. Elizabeth fed a little boy, perhaps four years old, who did not seem to be aware at all of his surroundings; he didn't respond to sounds, and couldn't fully open or focus his eyes. Yet he knew to open his mouth when he felt the spoon on his lips, and he knew how to swallow. Meanwhile, a little boy in a walker/stroller rolled over to us and was reaching out and grabbing Elizabeth's pant leg, seeking interaction and attention and love. This place is always so poignantly inspiring.

After lunchtime with the children, we left the convent and went to St. Luke's hospital to see our friend Martina who is a volunteer nurse there, and for a doctor to take a look in Elizabeth's ear, which has been infected for the past few days. The doctor called for a new antibiotic prescription and an anti-inflammatory shot in the bum (ouch!). Hopefully Elizabeth's ear will heal up quick now, so she'll feel better and get to hear out of it again.

Martina shows Elizabeth an overlook above the city of Nablus.

Then we and Martina walked to Afaf's home for a delicious lunch of msakhan (main ingredient olive oil; supplementary ingredients whole wheat flatbread, onions, spices, chicken - one of our favorite dishes). We ate so much that we didn't need much supper. A plate of knaffe (Nablus's specialty sweet, made of goat cheese, special crust, and syrup) at a sweets shop with Sylvia and her friends was more than enough.

Marthame's day began when he was awoken (albeit rather late - our hours change when we don't have to teach) by a phone call: "Did the soldiers leave from around your place?" Apparently, there was a "curfew" in Zababdeh from about 4:00 am to 9:30 am, "curfew" meaning "stay at home until we say so or you get shot." Literally. One young man was arrested, and dozens of men and women and children of all ages were aroused from their sleep and brought down to the street for interrogation. One of the local shops was burglarized by the soldiers during their incursion, stealing a couple hundred dollars in petty cash. There's no school today of course - it should begin at 7:30, but everyone was trapped at home at the time. Marthame was blissfully unaware of all the excitement.

Then the news came in: First, the US veto of a UN Security Council resolution which would condemn Israel for building its Wall. Too one-sided, came Negroponte's criticism. Astonishing. Second, a bomb in Gaza has killed three Americans in a Consular convoy. We have received a few panicked emails and phone calls. No Palestinian group has taken responsibility, all of them being quick to deny responsibility. Our friends here assert: no way, they say, that Palestinians could have done such a thing.

The disturbing truth about the incident (and others like it) is that in many ways, for the public at least, there is no real truth. Whatever you want to believe (Palestinian terrorists did it, the Israeli Mossad did it, American secret service did it, Al Qaida did it, Palestinian collaborators were paid to do it) there is someone out there agreeing with you, publicizing and publishing that view, making it undeniably true for those who want to believe it. If you say it enough times, and especially if you publish it online or in a newspaper, it becomes fact. And who can argue with facts?