It feels like Corona is all there is these days. On the West Bank last week, Bethlehem was shut down. Fulbrighters who left Bethlehem for Jerusalem were put on hotel-room arrest. Friends and embassy staff brought them food. While Israel has a much better primary care system than Palestine, it too is under strain--contain the exposure so the health care system isn't overwhelmed. The airport is closed to foreigners, schools and synagogues are closed. Checkpoints are shut to Palestinians. [I found this article discussing the stress on Israel's infrastructure (including health care) even before Corona in the New York times from earlier in the month very interesting.]

An industrious family medicine resident in Bethlehem is surveying physicians and nurses about the stress of Covid-19. Were they prepared adequately? Are they afraid for their own health? How do they manage the stress? Another is interviewing the hotel staff who are in quarantine because of the positive tourists: How are they managing the boredom? Are they getting adequate food? Is the room comfortable? Are they worried about being ostracized? What does no salary mean for them and their families?

I flew back to the US yesterday. The plane was packed. Some passengers wore masks and wiped down their seats. Hand cleaner perfumed the air. Everyone I talked with had some travel mishap or nightmare. So many frustrated, weary and worried passengers. I bought my own ticket because the travel office that books Fulbright travel was overwhelmed. The arrangement I purchased had a tight connection --one that should never have been sold I was told--and I missed my flight out of JFK to home. I couldn't manage being a sardine for another hour, so I took the train from NYC to RI.

Penn Station was empty, except for the homeless who meandered from person to person asking for loose change. What does this pandemic mean for the homeless? Homeless kids and closed schools -- not an easy scenario. Homeless shelters and close proximity, chronic disease. . . . But the train ride followed the coast and the harbors in places like Mystic, CT. It was a wonderful journey and a lovely break.

Of course, when I arrived in the US, I heard more conspiracy theories. Uncertainty and the lack of control spins into chaos. In 15 hours I flew from one craziness due to inadequate supplies in a low middle income country to more craziness due to inadequate supplies, poor planning because public health has been squeezed for the last twenty years, and our current poor leadership.

However, I had a lovely reprieve the day I left, I was invited to the home of one of the doctors I worked with. He was tasked with leading the effort to write the self-evaluation report for the medical school's accreditation from TEPDAD, like LCME here in the US. They stand to lose a fifth of their students if they are not accredited by an international organization. We hammered through the report and answered questions that were poorly answered and skipped entirely by the faculty committees, rewrote the mission and vision statements, and made the case for the infrastructure and committees needed to run a medical school. I drew on past experiences, checked in with colleagues and friends who led medical education departments and did web searches for medical schools in the region to demonstrate the importance of infrastructure. Currently, the medical school has 1 dean and 2 secretaries. My colleague nearly wept when he found a comparable Jordan school that had 3 vice deans and 4 other staff in addition to a dean. It was a privilege to do this work and I told him we should hold the celebration until the school is accredited.

But not in Palestine. Graciousness and hospitality is a must and it always includes family and food. His mother, daughter and niece accompanied him when he picked me up on a rainy morning and we drove over the hills to his village which we could see from the university. We passed one of the earliest settlements that stole land from his grandfather and built a wall causing roads to be closed and others to be built. The challenges of the intifada (2000-2008) were mentioned in passing--how he delivered babies in his village and performed procedures he'd never dream of doing now.

About a dozen of us gathered around the table--his wife, mother, daughters, niece, nephews. The typical Palestinian breakfast included: tomatoes and cucumbers and olives (those are staples); pastries filled with spinach or cheese made by his daughter and Palestinian pizza -crusty dough painted with olive oil and Za’atar--a thyme and sesame spice. All accompanied by sweet tea. His father came in from the olive grove and the men hurried off to pray--a shorter version that day due to Corona. I sat with the women and children. With little Arabic on my part and shy English speakers around me, we settled on looking at photos of my family on my phone.

So my Fulbright visit has come to an unexpected end. Despite the Corona craziness that plays out every where, I am reminded that spring comes, the valleys turn green, the moon rises and beauty persists. And once again it is the beauty of those personal connections that I treasure.