Saturday, 10/5/02: At 5:00 this morning, tanks
swarmed the city streets of Nablus. At 6:00, they began to
open fire (
audio
- 1 sec.) 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. 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
(audio
- 5 sec.), 
but just out of sight. Then they emerge, the gun turrets
moving on their own, then opening fire (
audio
- 1 sec.). Nablus' location between Mount Ebal and Gerizim
adds echo to it all, making it that much moreclaustrophobic. 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. 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 ( audio - 5 sec.)...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 (
audio
- 4 sec.). 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...