being there: To Nablus

"I love and trust people. My love and trust may at times be unwise, but I prefer the risk".
-Stanley Hauerwas.

I awoke early on Saturday morning. It was my third day in Jerusalem, and I felt more familiar with the geography and the culture. I walked through the Muslim Quarter like I was a local, although the large pack on my back and a small one on my front probably gave me away. I needed to go out of Old Jerusalem through Damascus Gate (the most popular gate) and up the road to the bus stop. I had been quoted 30 shekels to Ramallah by an internet site, but a lady at reception at Ecce Homo quoted me 18. The bus stop looked more like a large car park where buses slept for the night, a sight I would soon become familiar with in Nablus. I found a bus that said 'Ramallah direct' and, although it was not the number I was told to catch, the driver assured me it was to Ramallah. He charged me 8 shekels; bus prices seemed to have had deflated by 200% in the space of a morning. I had no idea if I was on the right bus, but I assumed I was, and we were at least heading North. I knew I was on the right track when we passed a sign declaring that we were entering Palestinian territory and Israelis should not enter due to the risk of being killed. We drove alongside a fence for some time before I realised that this was the famous separation barrier built by Israel in an attempt to secure themselves from suicide bombers. It was heavily graffitied with slogans such as 'one wall, two prisons' and 'now that I have seen I am responsible'. Hmmm, I had heard that second quote before. I felt confusedly at home when I finally clicked that they were Brooke Fraser lyrics. I wonder if she knows her songs are plastered on the Israeli-Palestine separation barrier.

A picture of the separation wall. *Google's picture, not mine*

Driving in Israel and Palestine is fascinating. I enjoy 5 hour bus rides across New Zealand, so you can imagine how interested I am driving through a foreign and markedly different country. For a while, the person to my right spoke to me in Arabic before it finally became clear that I had no idea what he was talking about. He then spoke to me in English, saying something about speaking differently up ahead. I had no idea what he meant. I smiled and nodded and murmured. He gave up speaking to me. A half hour later the chap to my right, who was around my age, had a go. Being a good English speaker, he was far more successful. He took a liking to me for two reasons 1) His love of God inspired him to help others (and I probably looked like I needed help) and 2) I looked like his brother. Blending in was to my advantage, he assured me, because it meant I was less likely to be financially exploited by opportunist locals. He also told me to keep a firm and stern face to earn the locals' respect. I was learning fast. My next step after arriving in Ramallah was to find the bus stop. I had no idea how to do this, but my new friend offered to help, and I saw no reason to distrust him. He led me to the bus station, found the bus to Nablus, gave me a blessing, and shook my hand. Ramallah appeared to have a hard edge to it, I could see his point about remaining stern. His actions, however, were indicative of the type of hospitality and kindness I would find in Nablus.

I arrived in Nablus and began looking for a cab to take me to my final destination. After a confusing taxi ride featuring puzzled looks and communication breakdowns I finally stumbled across Project Hope. I was charged 10 shekels, a reasonably cheap price I thought for a taxi. I tried to tip him a few shekels for his patience but he refused, probably because, as I would later discover, he should really have charged me only a few shekels, and probably felt he could only rip me off to a certain extent before feeling guilty.I was happy, I had made it easily enough. I went inside to meet the organisation.

A shot from my apartment (standing on the fence, so not a typical view).

Posters of some local martyrs. There are many around the city.

From my apartment at night.

Nablus is one of the larger cities in the West Bank. It has a long history, and parts of the city date back to the time of Roman occupation. The Old City is beautiful, and contains an abundance of rock almost rivaling Jerusalem. It is famous for its Kanafa - a sweet treat on a cheesy base - and its manufacture of soap. For a close up view of the city I recommend the film 'Paradise Now', which is set in Nablus. My initial tour was given by a man named Anas, who took great pleasure in pointing out the sites of certain scenes in the film. The excitement was reciprocal, and he appreciated my enthusiasm for the film. The subsequent two days in Nablus would feel more like a week. I became more settled in the city each passing minute, and very quickly made friends with the other volunteers. I live in a boys flat, which has boy flat traits and looks decidedly different to the girls flat. Needless to say, the boys are very amazed and jealous whenever they visit the girls flat. The decision to bring a sleeping bag with me on my travels has paid of. The flat reaches Dunedin level temperatures at night. Stone buildings with high ceilings don't exactly retain the heat.

My introduction to Nablus had gone relatively smoothly. In no time at all I felt friendly with the other volunteers, who are a great bunch of people. But I had a lot to learn; the Arabic language, local customs, how to teach English to beginners, and a complicated political history to name a few.

The following shots are from Sebastia - a rural village built amidst Roman ruins. Another volunteer - Ben - took the shots.