Lockdown
Fourteen checkpoints block the exits out of Nablus. As I write this we are on the 10th day “under a tight Israeli siege.”
Israeli forces instituted “Break the Wave” two months ago, a crack down on Palestinian militant groups who are too young to remember much about the 2nd Intifada (2000-2005). During their lives little has improved and they have little hope: poverty, no jobs, a corrupt government, restricted movement—what do they have to lose?
In addition, the extreme settler groups have weapons and are more violent. Last week, a Fulbright colleague returning by taxi from Ramallah (the capital of Palestine and a 1-hour drive from Nablus) was rushed and stoned by settlers near a check point entering Nablus. Her taxi driver took another route, back roads for 2 hours instead of continuing on the road they were on (only 20 minutes from home), because they couldn’t pass through the rush of settlers. Her children were sleeping in the back seat of the taxi, but woke up on the bumpy back roads.
As a result of her experience, Reed and I carefully timed our re-entry into Nablus after a week of birding in northern Israel. The Nablus taxi driver I trust told me Saturday AM was the best time to enter because the Jewish settlers would be praying. There was only one road into Nablus that morning. Rocks and charred debris were strewn across the road, evidence of past protests and assaults along with burned carcasses from some animal rendering plant. The stench was hard to ignore.
Our taxi driver shook his head in sadness and disgust.
This week colleagues who live in villages just outside Nablus cannot come into the university because roads are closed—gates locked or piles of dirt and rocks make it impossible to pass. Fifteen to 20 minute trips now take two hours. On Monday morning, one researcher called me from the family olive grove that he and his five brothers manage. “We have a week of picking left,” he said. “Hopefully you can come.” Will the situation improve that quickly?
As they say her Inshallah—God willing.
Another colleague with three young children told me that it hasn’t been this bad since 2001 when she was in medical school. At the time, the 2nd Intifada, she couldn’t drive the 30 minutes from her village to Nablus so she rode a donkey in. Eventually she moved to an apartment in Nablus. “I don’t want to raise my children in this environment.” However, she goes on: working on her masters degree, overseeing a new primary care clinic, writing the strategic plan for a professional physician organization for next year.
Perhaps the most annoying element is the nightly drone (and sometimes daytime). An irritating whine that cycles every 5 to 10 minutes. The linked article describes their pervasive presence in Gaza for the last 15 year and the colloquial Arabic term for them: “zanana,” meaning “buzz” — evoking the constant sound of machines hovering just above one’s roof, like a menacing swarm of bees.
I can attest to the psychological impact.
Perhaps that explains why I contracted COVID despite getting 2 vaccines and 3 boosters, including the new bivalent offering in the US, before coming here. To date, despite swabbing patients in the clinic’s testing tent and all my patient care back in Rhode Island, I have been spared.
But 3 weeks after arriving I developed a sore throat and congestion and tested myself with one of the home tests I brought along. I wore my mask on the plane, but no one was masking here, and I was vaccinated more than anyone else.
To my chagrin—2 parallel lines. Positive. I promptly put myself on Paxlovid, which I’d also brought along. It’s not available here. I’ve handed out many a dose in Express Care back home and yes, it does have an awful metallic taste, but my symptoms vanished within days.
However, they returned along with a headache a few days after completing the 5-day course. I tested again and diagnosed myself as a rebound case, in good company perhaps with Biden and Fauci.
So I am quarantining and wearing a mask.
COVID is a challenge of the past here, but the uptick in Israeli forces arresting “terrorists” and settler violence is real. And the US and UK media news does not cover any of it. Only a short article a couple of weeks ago in the New York Times about Biden’s concern about the uptick of violence in the Middle East.
I witness the frustration of my Palestinian colleagues, and watch how they cope—going on with their lives, withdrawing into their homes, caring for their families and olive groves. I wonder how this will end, how can this end?
The Fall bird migration reminded me of life’s inevitable cycle. The Middle East is a major migration route for birds from Europe and Asia to Africa, Last year in the Hula Valley in Northern Israel, 5000 cranes died of Avian flu and flocks of chickens had to be killed causing a shortage of eggs. But this year the cranes arrived, a few weeks late due to the drought in their summering grounds in Siberia, but they came on our final day. The bugling of the cranes, so graceful in flight arrived in small flocks, their long legs extended as they landed to rest and sleep in the shallow water of the lake for the evening. We are reminded life marches on.