Remembrance Day

The winter came back today, and brought with it thunderstorms. Why are the classes always canceled when it rains?



Yesterday was November 11th, Remembrance Day, the day to commemorate the sacrifices of veterans and civilians in times of war. I didn't think about it much, except to notice that on the BBC everyone had been wearing poppy-shaped pins all week to signify the occasion. I've never paid much attention to the day, to be honest.



I had my class that morning with the housewives group here in Nablus. We were talking about feelings (happy, sad, angry, etc.), and I asked them how they felt about what was happening in the Gaza Strip (the Israelis had closed the borders because of rocket attacks by militants in Gaza, which were in retaliation for Israeli incursions, which they said they did to prevent future kidnappings of Israeli soldiers...it goes back and forth.) The elder woman in the group, Sameha, who also has the best command of English, spoke passionately about the situation, and how she feels sad to see children suffering. I asked the rest of the group, because I wanted to give them a chance to speak. Rehab began to cry. Rehab invited us over to her house, Rehab is quiet, although her English is decent. She told me how her brother had been killed in his house in Nablus four years ago by soldiers, leaving a wife and two children. The other women began to cry, and so did I. I naively wasn't prepared for her answer to my question.

To hear about these stories in a newspaper or from a secondhand source is one thing. To hear it come from your student, a woman who has been your friend, is another. I don't know why her brother was killed. I don't know if he was targeted for a specific reason. I just know that we all cried together, because Rehab had lost her brother, and she was so very, very sad.

Sometimes people tell me that their tears are dried up, they are used to their situation. We met some neighbors who live on the fourth floor of our building. They insisted on driving us to our destination, and inviting us over for tea. They opened their home to us, offering us food and drink and English conversation. They told us how the Israeli soldiers had once occupied our building. They put everyone into one apartment, where they kept them for a week with no electricity or running water while they used their taken-over apartments for shooting into the El-Ein refugee camp which sits a few streets below our building.

The situation in the Gaza Strip right now appalls me. The Israeli border guards have recently blockaded entry by journalists, diplomats, food aid and medicinal supplies.