Nablus: First impressions of Palestine

Last week I ventured into the West Bank or as I prefer to call it Palestine. It seems a unfair to refer to it as the West Bank when India and 135 other countries recognise Palestine as a state. Honestly, more than six months in this country has made me more sensitive to such nomenclature, the communities involved and their perspectives in general.

Seething with rage

Nablus is the third largest city in the Palestinian Territories after Gaza City and Hebron. It is located about 130km east of Tel Aviv and can be reached from Tel Aviv in about 90 minutes. I am not an authority on what route to take to get there, although an Arab cab driver from East Jerusalem is whom you should hire if you plan a trip to any of the Palestinian Territories. 

The drive to Nablus was event-less. I was expecting to be stopped at a check-post and asked for my passport and questioned on my purpose of visit etc, but that was not the case. Although you cross the Green Line without any inkling of having crossed one of the most disputed borders in the world, leaving Israeli territory and entering Palestinian territory is dramatic. When the Isareli roads do not let you feel the jolt, the Judean Hills loom over making you take notice of the transition. 

It was during the drive from Jerusalem to Masada/Dead Sea that I first saw The Wall and felt the sharp change in geography and demography. Clotheslines with white shirts and black pants disappeared and were replaced by barbed wire restricting Palestinians access to the 'Israeli' highway; residential buildings faded away and the dry and rocky Judean Hills took their place along the roads. The drive to Nablus was similar. Unless you stay awake and look out of the window, when you reach the shock will come to you as a punch in your gut. The scenery eases the transition. 

Nablus is one of the eight cities that is classified under Area A, meaning it is completly under Palestinian control, barring nearby settlements of course. The sights and sounds of Nablus' city centre reminded me of busy a Indian city or even East Jerusalem for that matter. Making me feel more at home in this Palestinian city were huge hoardings of Shah Rukh Khan, Aishwarya Rai and Emran Hashmi promoting cosmetics. The city centre is lined with shopping complexes, eateries, banks and everything else a modern city centre constitutes. Tall modern shopping complexes that dominate the city's skyline here are just a modern facade of the old city of Nablus itself.

SRK promoting fairness
cream in Palestine

Negotiating random traffic which comprised mules and Volkswagens alike, we entered a narrow covered market street. Everything about the market street reminded me of Jerusalem's old city. The arches, the colour of the walls, the meditative azaan, colourful and aromatic spices on display and even the carts that shopkeepers use to transport goods inside the old city. After a short walk through the old city's market we entered the maze of Nablus' old city.

Nablus City Centre                     Nablus Old City

The old city of Nablus is similar to that of Jerusalem in many ways and is radically different is an equal number of ways. The political graffiti calling for a united Palestine, posters of civilian fighters brandishing weapons and plaques on houses with photos of family members who were either martyrs or victims of Israeli military form the main narrative here. Locals point to particular windows and houses and retell how Israeli military holed up in those houses shot and killed innocent civilians. The old city was under siege by the Israeli military as part of Operation Defensive Shield in 2002. During this time strict curfew was imposed on the old city residents and the military entered many houses by boring holes in walls. The curfew lasted more than three months. A who was in his late teens during this period says, "We did not have enough supplies to last so many days. People who broke curfew to procure food and water were gunned down by snipers." From a roof top a local points to a vacant space that looks like a parking lot inside the old city, "There used to be a soap factory here. The military suspected that terrorists were hiding in there and brought the building down. It later turned out that just a small Palestinian family was living there."

Left: Call for Action; Right Top: Civilian fighter brandishing weapon
Right Bottom: Plaque for martyrs and victims

In its days of glory, Nablus was a business centre famous for its soaps made from olive oil. The city's economy sustained a huge blow with the Israeli occupation of Palestine. The number of soap factories has dwindled over the years and only two or three are still functional. If you are lucky to visit the city at the right time of the day, you could visit a soap factory inside the old city. 

If you peel away the layers of violence that the old city has sustained and witnessed as recently as the second Intifada (200-2005), you would be able to uncover the charm and majesty of this historical city. Standing on one of the roof tops, I see the old crumbling old city buildings against the backdrop of the modern houses built on the hills surrounding the city. Those who could afford to leave their houses in the old city for new houses have done so, turning the old city into a magnificent time capsule. 

New construction on the hills surrounding the Old City 

The market of Nablus' old city is one where I finally bought kajal as I was running out of my desi supply. The market here is most famous for the best kanafeh in all of Palestine. A nondescript hole in the wall bakery is one of the many bakeries here that make the most tasty Middle-Eastern dessert I have tasted so far. Two workers pass huge circular trays around spreading semolina and cheese, the key ingredients of kanafeh, on the trays. A third takes it to the kitchen to cook it  

Kanafeh from start to finish

and a fourth is busy crumbling big blocks of white Nablusi cheese into small pieces. With an indulgent slathering of sugar syrup, the rust-coloured gooey kanafeh is ready. A queue has formed in the meantime, the previous batch of customers are getting ready to leave and make space for the next batch. It took less than ten minutes for the rather large tray of kanafeh to be served to around 30 eager customers. The dessert is juicy, cheesy, and even has a little crunch to it because of the upper crust of semolina. A generous chunk of the dessert cost me just 4 shekels! I don't even get a bar of chocolate for 4 shekels in Tel Aviv! 

Jacob's Well

Entry to Nablus is forbidden for Israelis; if you own a non-Israeli passport there is no reason you should miss a short day trip to Nablus. It is easy to visit to Nablus, just hop on to a taxi from East Jerusalem near Damascus Gate. The city also has a couple of non-political spots of interest. Tel Balata is an archealogical site where excavators have found the remains a massive Cannaite city wall (1700 BC) and a temple. Jacob's Well is not far from Tell Balata. Go inside and take a sip of water from the well where Jesus is said to have had water offered by a Samaritan woman. The well is inside an Greek Orthodox Monastery. A lone priest is the sole keeper of this Biblical site.

South Tel Aviv and her migrant population

South Tel Aviv is as good as a day-trip for the bratty North Tel Aviv-ian that I am. Anything that is more than walking distance is a whole different planet and I try to club at least three errands and a lunch/dinner out if I am heading anywhere south of North Tel Aviv.

Central Bus Station

It is on those select days that I go to the Central Bus Station area that is not really a recommended touring spot in this city. A local will try to avoid the CBS for many reasons; its complicated design being one of them. The maze that the CBS is can only be navigated using an app. If the start-up nation did not have a start-up to create such an app, I would have been greatly disappointed. The other big concern is that one feels a tad unsafe in a place where drunk/wasted/homeless people wander about bumping into poles and people with equal probability. According O, my Hebrew coach, building the CBS inside the city was a bad idea in the first place because it is a social outcast-magnet.

The CBS is located in Tel Aviv's poorest neighbourhoods. Asylum seekers from troubled African countries like Sudan/South Sudan/Eritrea/Ethiopia reside in areas adjoining the CBS. Years of neglect of this neighbourhood has come to define its demographics. "Everyone thinks that south Tel Aviv is very unsafe. But it is not as unsafe as they think it is. Hopefully the image of south Tel Aviv and asylum seekers will improve," says N, a Sudanese community leader and human rights activist. Though I visit the CBS area to pick up Indian spices from Indian grocery stores that are located there; N guessed that I must be visiting the CBS for the very first time with him. It is a valid guess for one does not come here without purpose or a local guide. He was pleasantly surprised that I had visited south Tel Aviv or the grimy under belly of Tel Aviv multiple times.

The Tour

I was touring south Tel Aviv with MK, another Sudanese activist, on a balmy summer evening as part of the final Hebrew class. MK and N wanted to introduce the students to Sudanese community leaders, their problems and Sudanese food.

We met at the Levinsky Park, a haven for the homeless, where we waited for the group to assemble. We left the main street and made our way into the neighbourhood of Nave Sha'anan as the sun started setting on Tel Aviv. The air was thick with pungent aromas that spilled out of nearby African grocery stores. Small apparel stores displayed colourful Eritrean wedding gowns as men and women yapped away outside the stores. Spices and clothes indigenous to African countries are brought by Eritrean asylum seekers who can go visit their country and come back to Israel unharmed. On passports of Sundanese nationals it is clearly stated that Israel is an enemy nation and that their passports are valid for all countries with the exception of Israel. "Visiting Darfur is no more an option for the Sudanese asylum seekers," says MK. The shops are not always owned by the asylum seekers as they are not permitted to own shops. Only those with temporary residency permits can operate shops, and asylum seekers with these permits are very few. "Some friendly Israelis help us in setting up shops, but at a cost," shares MK. That said, a sizable fraction of small businesses are run illegally by African asylum seekers and these businesses are constantly at the risk of raids by municipal authorities. Taxes are levied upon those who employ illegal asylum seekers, thus reducing job opportunities for asylum seekers on the whole.

Everyone seemed to know each other in this part of the city. The community of asylum seekers is a strong network. As we walked down these lanes, MK was greeted by at least seven people who stopped to talk to him. The conversations lasted a few minutes each and ended with MK getting dinner invitations to his friends' homes. "If I am going out on urgent business, I take a different route to approach the main street. It takes me five minutes to walk down this road when I do not meet anyone, if I do, then I spend at least 45 minutes chatting with people," he says wiping sweat off his forehead. Tel Aviv is a furnace these days, it is 7pm and our tour is officially yet to begin.

As we wait for more students to join, MK takes us to a local Eritrean cafe. The concept of African cafes came as a complete surprise to me. They are mostly huge rooms (like an auditorium without a stage) with rows of chairs facing one wall. This wall has at least three TVs mounted on it and each TV plays a different show. People at the cafe are hooked to their personal nargilas while their eyes flit constantly between a WWE match, a football match and a local news channel. After hydrating ourselves, we proceed to meet more community leaders. 

Community Centres and Holot
The first community centre we visit is managed by Z. Here adult asylum seekers are taught English and basic computer skills. The community centers also help asylum seekers fill in forms to apply for refugee status and temporary residency permits etc. "These forms have to be filled in very carefully. The officials should not find any loopholes to reject the candidature. It is a tedious job," says O who is attending a workshop to learn how to fill these forms. The community centres are central to the survival of the asylum seekers. "We help them settle down, find a job and also in some cases asylum seekers are so traumatised and need professional help. We try to help in any way possible," says MK.
At the second community centre English and computer classes were in progress. Asylum seekers sat diligently in stuffy rooms copying sentences from the board onto their notebooks.

Maintaining a centre like this and running it for a long period is not half as easy as one would expect it to be. The community leaders could get summons to Holot, the detention centre for asylum seekers, and NGOs and cenntres like these are shut overnight. MK's own NGO, Friends of Darfur, was shut because his friends was summoned to report to Holot. He says, "How do we keep paying rent, housing tax and water and electricity bills if our members are imprisoned in Holot?" African asylum seekers from Tel Aviv and other Israeli cities are detained in Holot without any charges or trial. They can be detained until their asylum claims are processed or such a time when they can be deported. "This mostly means indefinitely," says MK. Holot is a concept that came out of Israel's Anti-Infiltration Law, a law that seeks to make Israel a less rosy for asylum seekers.

Dinner

We headed to a Sudanese joint for dinner where MK and N took charge of ordering a huge meal. The restaurant was a lot like the first one we visited, a big backyard with rows of plastic chairs facing two huge TV screens. Men enjoyed their nargilas and blew out huge puffs of smoke before dipping their pita bread into a huge bowl of Sudanese gravy. I had never tried African food, so this was a very new experience to me. Eating with my hands came naturally to me, duh. But it was the idea that everyone was dipping into the same bowl of gravy and eating the same bread that was a tad disturbing. But I got over it soon enough, for the food was tasty. I had in fact asked R to make some dinner for me, in case I returned hungry, but that was not to be the case. I mostly dug into Fu-Fu, a white sticky ball of steamed wheat dough. Fu-Fu was served with a sambar-like sticky vegetable gravy and I was super excited about how close African food is to Indian food. When we were done with dinner, we continued to talk about Swiss chocolates, Indian food, Israel's primary education and more over mint tea. 

Turning Point, an IDF Drill

As drafts are piling up I am beginning to get lethargic with my blog. Before I can systematically wrap up each of those drafts, I have to write about today's drill.

As a prospective visitor to the country I remember scanning the newspapers and internet for any little information possible on the 50-day war, when it would end and if at all it would end. During this time, I noticed photos of how Israelis responded to air raid sirens - they would duck behind their cars, take cover inside their building stair wells or just lie down on the ground covering their heads.

Your nearest shelter

Today, for the first time since the war, an air raid siren was sounded to simulate a rocket attack on Israel. This was to check the response of civilians and especially schools and the effectiveness of the national siren system. I was expecting to see images similar to the photos I had seen last year. Turns out, Israelis are too cool for school. They will run to the shelter or take cover only when it's the real deal, not for a nation-wide drill.

I was supposed to be at a meeting by 11.30 am and the siren was scheduled to go off at 11.05. I was at a busy intersection when my phone buzzed with a broadcast message from the telephone operator about the alarm. Within seconds the two minute long siren was sounded. The siren took me by surprise despite the text message. Looking for a cue on what I should do next, I examined my surroundings to see what others were doing. Cars continued to zip past and for a moment I was thinking about the Doppler effect, people ambled about in and out of shops and restaurants, there was one dog that reacted violently to the siren, a group of corporate junta continued their informal meeting over coffee - in short, no one gave a damn.

Surprised at the reaction, I asked a friend if she too just carried on with work when the siren was sounded. "We are a strange nation," she said to me. She meant to comfort me because I looked rather shocked at this lackadaisical attitude of the people. She continued, "Do you really think we need a drill to tell us where to run to when the actual siren goes off. We know all too well what to do and where to go." It is true, last summer's war had Israelis running to shelters 3-4 times a day. The drill was crucial for children, employees who had changed jobs and those who are generally unfamiliar with the protocol.

I had informed R about the drill yesterday. Just as we were contemplating what we would do, B emailed saying, "if you hear the siren, it is most likely nothing, you can keep doing whatever you were doing." According to B, if you know where the shelter is, why do you need to participate in the drill?

R's colleague, AR, did not receive this 'play it cool' memo from B. Upon hearing the siren, AR looked to see if R would accompany him to the shelter. When he noticed that R was not one to run to the shelter, AR quietly went down to the shelter and came back a few minutes later and continued his work. Let us hope that AR does not have to show R the way the shelter any time soon, or ever.