Keepin it movin

Post the upside-down world of Hebron, Noah and I went to Nablus. It was that day that we did Bethlehem, Ramallah, Nablus, and Jenin all in the same day. I'll start at the beginning.

We woke up in Bethlehem at our refugee-camp/hostel, then went and got falafel and to an internet cafe. We changed buses in Ramallah so I didn't really see it, but everyone says its the most urbane and modern city in the West Bank (to wit, they say Palestinians in Ramallah drink alcohol). I wish I could have seen more of it, but I guess the "New York City of Palestine" is for next time. In contrast, the city of Nablus is waaay more traditional, perhaps because it's 9,000 years old. For real. It is one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the world. The shops close down at about 8 PM, and alcohol is virtually impossible to buy (so they say, I didn't try). By midnight, the streets are empty.

In Nablus, we again went to a refugee camp there: Balata. It is the largest refugee camp in the West Bank and the place where many (most?) of the suicide bombers and militants of the Second Intifadah hail from. It is one of the most densely populated places on earth: at less than 1 square mile, it is supposedly home to 40,000 Palestinian residents.

We met with a British girl who had studied oboe at Cambridge University and was now teaching music classes in Balata. And, as fate would have it, there was a group of American rappers who had just done a hip-hop workshop for the kids. We also met some Palestinian men who were raised there, and now work in the community center. They were also fascinating, and clearly dedicated.

Around the city of Nablus itself, you can see hand-bills and posters of "martyrs." I don't read Arabic, but from what I'm told these memorials do not distinguish between "martyrs" who were killed fighting Israeli soldiers and "martyrs" who took their own lives as part of suicide-bombing missions. Nablus is also famous for Kanafiya, a deliciously sweet dessert.

I don't mean to be facetious with my transitions but that's really the only way to describe what it's like there. The people are super-friendly, always shouting "you are welcome!" as you pass through. Random strangers walked us to where we needed to go on multiple occasions. One merchant gave us some free figs. Another gave me a free apple. The hummus is delicious. We also went to "Jacob's Well," located inside a beautiful church with astounding religious art.

And finally, we went to Jenin to see a play at the "Freedom Theatre," where the actors are young people from the Jenin refugee camp and the play that we saw about exile and displacement. At least I think it was; it was entirely in Arabic. Still cool, though. Again the juxtapositions: talking and joking with the actors and an American Jewish girl who worked there, I noticed an article from the Washing Post reporting on the fates of some of the actors from the "Freedom Theatre." Of the original 5, only one was not either dead or in jail. This bleak fact was clearly presented in a way meant to invoke moral outrage at the Occupation. What the article said plainly, however, was that the 4 who didn't make it were members of the Al-Aqsa Martyrs' Brigade. damn.