Destination Nablus (part 1 of 2)

Security and Disruptions to Daily Life:

I’m happy to say that my first two weeks in Nablus have been enjoyable, with many warm welcomes, great reunions, and a million new names to try to remember. The situation here is on average much quieter than compared to my first visit in 2004. Four years ago, every night I was here there was automatic gunfire and the burst of sound bombs (used to both warn families that an incursion is imminent, and to stun potential targets when detonated at close range (at least these are the explanations I’ve patched together)). For the past two weeks I’ve only noted three nights where there was activity (there have been more, but I haven’t noticed them). Most of the activity is focused in four areas: The Old City (about a half-mile from my apartment), the Al-Amoud area, and the two larger refugee camps in Nablus, Askar and Belata (both a couple miles from me). There have been no daytime incursions by the Israeli military (contrast this with a couple of days of imposed curfew, and the sighting of Israeli tanks in the streets the last time I was here).

Nablus or Bust:

My arrival to Nablus was, of course, not without event. I left Jerusalem early on Thursday 4/17, after having confirmed that Alaa (the director of Zajel) was expecting me. I took at private taxi from Jerusalem to Nablus (about 1 and ½ hours, 250NIS=65USD. I should have taken the cheaper more complicated route to save myself 50USD; live and learn). The taxi driver was friendly, but as the miles slipped by he became more and more excited about impressing upon me truth of the Muslim faith, and that he felt it his duty to spread this message to those who have not heard the calling. He recounted to me that in his former years he was “one of those” who harbored hatred toward... let’s say, “the west,” for the sake of parsimony, but that a friend had convinced him that we were not evil individuals; that he should see us as different from our governments; and that he should try to teach us what the true Islam teaches (which I think from his current perspective did not include hatred or violence). To say the least, George Bush and cartoon’s depicting the prophet Mohammed, non-hatred aside, are not well liked by this cabby or anyone else this side of the green line (except perhaps Israeli settlers) (the Green Line is the name given to the 1949 Armistice lines that constituted the de facto borders of pre-1967 Israel). Although I never felt threatened, the ride had its share of awkward moments for me when all I could say was that I agreed with him (despite a fairly good command of English, language, and, I would guess, his well solidified mindset, prevented discussions of subtle points of reason). When we arrived at the checkpoint located at the southern entrance to Nablus (Huwarra Checkpoint) he made sure to tell me that I could call his cell phone if had any problems getting in, and that he would wait for 10 minutes to see that I got through.

I was quite relieved that the checkpoint was open to those entering the city (I only had to walk through a turnstile). Security checks are conducted for those exiting the city. That means every person planning to leave Nablus to the south, must pass through security (similar to that at an airport) before moving on. On the other side of the checkpoint an all-too-friendly, opportunistic cab driver ferried me off to his car. I was supposed to call Alaa once I got through Huwarra. The cab driver had no phone so we stopped by a shop along the way toward the city to use one of his friend’s phone. He dialed the phone number I gave him and a man answered that sounded like Alaa. “Hey, Alaa this is Ryan”

“Ah, hello..?"
“Yeh, this is Ryan, I’m in Nablus.”
“Where do you want to go?”
(very funny joke right?) “Ah, I don’t know you tell me…” at this point I’m a little nervous.
“Do you want to come to Ramallah?”
“NO, I’m in Nablus.” Now I’m really confused.
He asks, “Who are you looking for?”
“Alaa Yousef, are you Alaa Yousef?”
“No”
“Do you know him?”
“No, I’m sorry. Really, I’m very sorry”…. not a good start...

I start thinking, what are the chances that the cab driver misdialed, and happened to get someone who sounded just like Alaa, and spoke good English. Had I been talking with Alaa Yousef the last couple of days…? Or to some random guy on the other line who just kept saying yes, and OK to whatever I said…