September 12, 2001

Our lullaby was tank fire. Our alarm clock (apart from the rooster next door) was the sound of helicopters. We rushed onto our porch to see a brilliant sunrise, but also to see two Apache helicopters heading South.

We arrived at school to find that the same teachers and students from yesterday were absent, as tanks had now entered Jenin, destroying a police station and several houses. Even so, Abuna Aktham made a point of remembering the suffering of innocent Americans in the morning prayer as he appealed to our common humanity and a hope for a "new peace." All of the teachers - of various religious and political stripes - expressed their concern for our families and their condemnation of what happened in New York and Washington. To a person.

We also learned that Tubas had been hit earlier in the day, and so teachers and students from there were staying at home. Slowly, panic began to set in at the school as one by one children were pulled out of school by their brothers and sisters. Something was wrong, and the children were very nervous. Word got to us about other attacks and clashes, including the shooting at a school south of Tubas. School closed at 8:45, and children headed home.

Staff at the Anglican Clinic consulting about their incoming patients.

We passed the Anglican Clinic to find it full - the wounded from the South were being brought in to this little village place, and doctors and nurses came from neighboring villages to lend a hand. We offered to help, donate blood or something, but the clinic doesn't have the facilities for that. Fortunately, most of the people brought in had light wounds, including a young Force 17 soldier we met. He told us, "Two months ago, a bullet grazed my head. Today, I was shot in the wrist. Next time, God willing, it will hit me in the heart." There was a general sense of emergency and panic, no doubt exacerbated by the images coming from New York and Washington (and the blame being cast upon this part of the world). There is a fear that Israel is taking advantage of world attention upon the States to act with impunity here.

Gathering with the ex-pats for support and solidarity.

Bags packed and ready, should the need arise.

Things quieted down, though, but we are all truly exhausted. We gathered tonight with a group of Americans and other internationals from the Arab-American University, many of whom were new arrivals. It was a chance for us to get a little comfort from each other in the swirling of emotions here over the past day. No doubt some of the locals were confused, as our intention of providing moral support for each other might have resembled a celebration - lively conversation and good food. But the group's consensus was, given the last 24 hours, that we needed to come together for some kind of release. We have talked to our families over the past few days, all worried sick about us. We remain safe - there are benefits to being in a little Palestinian backwater like Zababdeh, and we'll hunker down here for a while. But we've got bags packed just in case.