  The
sounds of Zababdeh:
4:30 AM, Rooster (3 sec.) 4:45 AM, Muslim prayer (40 sec.) 6:00 AM, Church bells (40 sec.) 6:30 AM, sheep 7:30 AM, National Anthem (40 sec.) 17 hrs./day, Generator (5 sec.) Night-time, shooting (5 sec.) |
   Saturday,
6/1/02: Our last full day away from "home." We headed first
to the Street called Straight, entering the church built on the site believed
to have been the home of Ananias, the early disciple who helped Paul in
his conversion (Acts ). We paused to reflect on the place and its
meaning in church history, particularly for those of us from Western traditions
- it was Paul's missionary efforts which brought the gospel westward.
We sang "Amazing Grace" together before moving on to the nearby St. Paul's
gate, from which his companions lowered him in a basket past those waiting
to seize him (Acts ). Our last stop was the Ummayad Mosque in the
middle of the Old City, a place which had once been a temple to Jupiter
before it was turned into the Cathedral of John the Baptist. Outside
are large, dramatic mosaics of natural scenes and geometric patterns.
As we entered, the women in our group were provided with brown cloaks,
a large group of Friar Tucks - a bit unpleasant in the heat. Once
out of the sunshine and inside, we could see the old architecture of the
cross-shaped church still evident, altered in order to turn it into a mosque.
In the middle sits a green-gilded shrine which is purported to hold the
remains of John the Baptist (there are several other churches which have
similar claims). Elizabeth chatted with a group of women from Iran,
and then had another chat with women from Iran. The mosque (and Damascus)
seem to be a pilgrimage and tourist destination for Iranians. The  ladies
were tickled to meet a real American - we're something of a   rarity
in the Middle East these days. We then headed off to shop in the Old City.
Marthame headed off to look for some beautiful pearl inlay lacquer boxes.
While waiting for the shopowner's son to track down a portable argile
(the traditional Arab water-pipe, a gift from our group to our leader),
Marthame admired some of the old Russian icons for sale while they watched
a couple of World Cup matches together. Meanwhile, Elizabeth headed
off with a small group to look for rugs and gold in the Old City's markets.
Elizabeth wasn't going to buy another rug, but was more than happy to watch
rug proprietors show their wares to other customers. There were some beauties!
Then we were off to the gold souq, where the group broke up and
she splurged on a necklace and earrings. On the way, she bumped into a
few Sisters of Charity (Mother Theresa's order) on Straight Street. She
chatted with them, and promised to bring their greetings back to their
compatriots in Nablus. Now we have
met with Sisters of Charity in Nablus, Baghdad,
and Damascus. Where next? Elizabeth had no luck finding good leather
in the souq, but she did find a delightful lacquer box salesman
(where she bought Marthame's birthday present: a lovely inlaid backgammon/chess
board) and then a delightful (and fluent English-speaking) silversmith.
She also chatted with a spice salesman, who sold the familiar (cumin, rose
petals, mint, chamomile) and the not so familiar (dried newts). He was
full of information about what ailments each item could heal; people here
still rely in large part on traditional medicine. She chatted with a man
at the sweets shop, and bought a kilo of barezeq, a Damascene sesame
specialty, for the teachers in Zababdeh when we return. At most of these
stops, she was served tea - she felt like she drank six or seven glasses.
Oh yes - and she had a liver sandwich from a little kiosk full of locals,
tucked away in a corner of the textiles market. Finally, we gathered back
at the hotel for one final meeting, a chance to share in fellowship, Bible
study, singing, and prayer, a good way to round out our time together over
the last few weeks. Our fellowship continued as we headed off to
an old Ottoman house in the Old City that has been turned into a restaurant
- one last moment of table fellowship in the city of Paul. |
 Sunday,
6/2/02: Many of our group left late night and early this morning. After
breakfast, we left Damascus with five others, taking a van-taxi from the
hotel, heading off for the Jordanian border, making our way to the northern
city of Irbid. From there, the rest of our small group headed to
either Amman or Jerusalem.
We headed towards the northern bridge to the Galilee, dropped by our bus
along the main road. "Five minutes to the bridge," we were told.
Half of a hot, heavy hour later, we arrived at bemused Jordanian security
(we encounter a lot of bemused security in this part of the world), passing
on to the Israeli side near the town of Beit Shan (once called Beisan).
We were stopped and our bags searched thoroughly by Israeli security, the
first time that has ever happened in our two years here. But the security
people were very polite; after determining we had no explosives, they carefully
helped repack the kaffiyes and Palestinian and Iraqi flag decals
back into our bags. All in all, from the time we first entered the
Jordanian side of the bridge, it took two hours to get across. We
arrived in Nazareth in time to clean
up, take a power-nap and head up to the English hospital for their English-language
evening service. Marthame had been invited to preach, sharing with
them a few moments of our journey with the churches through Lebanon
and Syria. Considering how
many countries we had traversed in one day, we were eager to get to bed
early and sleep, sleep, sleep. |
|
Monday, 6/3/02: We slept, slept, slept before heading off for Zababdeh around noon. After two taxi rides and about two hours, we arrived back home (theme music courtesy of James Taylor - 5 sec.). Things are relatively peaceful now - news is much more about the World Cup than about the situation... |
|
Tuesday, 6/4/02: School has been proceeding as normal as possible, but with constant Israeli incursions and pull-outs, it is impressive that the students from Jenin have only missed one day of exams. This morning, the students from Jenin and Qabatiya were late, waiting for an Israeli withdrawal. It came this morning, and the rest of the students waited for them before heading upstairs to the hall for exams. We shared some Damascus sweets and Iraqi dates with our fellow teachers who were both glad to see us and jealous of our mobility and ability to travel places they cannot go. We also shared with them the many, many words of solidarity and comfort to Palestine from the places we visited. It was stunning that, with the economic and political difficulties facing Lebanese and Syrians, they would continually turn Western minds towards Palestine and Iraq. |
|
Wednesday, 6/5/02: Today is the anniversary of the 1967 War. The official Israeli view is that that War was a war of self-defense (as Ariel Sharon's op-ed published in the New York Times said today). Other voices, including those of the Israeli New Historians (bouyed by declassified remarks of Moishe Dayan), see the War as something Israel prompted with the intention to occupy the West Bank and Gaza. Whatever the interpretations, the fact is that today marks the 35th anniversary of the Occupation. Marking this, a member of Islamic Jihad drove a car (loaded with a car bomb) into a public bus at the Megiddo junction, killing a number of soldiers and civilians. We received word of this through friends who work at the school. People here are tired of the violence, tired of the coming and going of the Israeli army, tired of being unemployed and poor, tired of having no freedom of movement. Another suicide bombing, for those folks, does not bring any light at the end of the tunnel. We couldn't agree more. We wrapped up exams a bit early in order to get the kids home before the Israelis entered Jenin again in response to today's attack. Fortunately, there was enough school time for Elizabeth's seventh graders to complete their final exam. We spent most of the day working - grading and trying to catch up with all that has piled up in our absence. Foremost in our minds is our two months of travel and conversation in the States. In the evening, we heard the disturbing rumble of military activity in Jenin as planes circled over head. Isn't it nice to be home again? |
|
Thursday, 6/6/02: Today is the last day of exams - during this two-week period, the students have an exam a day. Because of the Israel re-incursion into Jenin, the two busses from there and beyond (and the students and teachers therein) didn’t come. We continued with exams for the rest of the kids - the Jenin students will have to catch up when it opens up again. News from Ramallah isn’t good - the army has destroyed most of Arafat’s compound, including the prison and intelligence headquarters, capping it off by bulldozing a burned-out car right up to his doorstep. The good news is that Jenin opened up again at the end of the day. |
 Friday,
6/7/02: The amount of things that need to happen before we leave
for Jordan (on our way to the States)
on Sunday is a bit overwhelming. While we try to sort through our
Lebanon
and Syria pictures, plan our talks for our summer travel, and finish
up work at the school, everyone in Zababdeh is eager to hear from us and
visit with us. Balancing these is a trick, and even a Friday (half
of our weekend) doesn’t give us much chance to rest. Fortunately,
the brutal heat waves outside means that very few people are venturing
out until late in the day. In the evening, Marthame went to a friend’s
internet cafe to do some web research. As he wandered home, all eyes
were on the skies and the constant flares fluttering off to the West.
The Israeli army had re-entered Jenin and
had also gone to the nearby village of Jaba. The talk in the streets
was that they would come to Zababdeh tonight, but fear has a way of multiplying
itself beyond reality. |
|
Saturday, 6/8/02: No army entry into Zababdeh, and still no sign of the Jenin students. Because of military actions nearby, there are even several tanks parked at the nearby intersection between Misilye and Qabatiya. One of our teachers from Qabatiya came today, but had to travel through the hills to do so. We were hoping to visit a student in Qabatiya who is moving back to Romania next week, but tanks parked on the road make our visit unlikely. Elizabeth spent the school day wrapping things up, completing her students' marks, and cleaning out her storage drawers. Marthame spent most of the morning working on a language lab proposal, something we are hoping to benefit from next year. There is a great need for more language instruction in the Jenin area, and we're hoping to add a language lab to our school facilities which will benefit our (and hopefully others') English education. It is unbelievably hot, even for June in Palestine, and by noon everyone's  brains
are cooked in the school - time to head home for quiet and siesta.
In the cooler afternoon, we headed out to fulfill some  social
requirements and visit friends. Weather like this helps us understand
Arab hospitality a little better - as soon as you enter the home and sit
down, you are given something cold to drink (whether you want it or not).
Today, it was quite welcome. We also stopped by to see the Rosary Sisters
in their Convent. We've just learned in the last few days that two
of them are being transferred elsewhere - one to Beit
Jala, the other to Jifna. They have both spent eight years in
Zababdeh, which is an average term, so it is time for them to go.
We’ll miss them. Our Latin seminary students are back for the summer
and, it seems, for the next year. The seminary,
which is located in Beit Jala, has had numerous problems continuing safe
education in the current sitution. As a result, they have decided
to close the school (with the exception of twelfth graders and deacons)
at least for a year. For this place, that's as far in advance as
one can plan. The many wheat fields surrounding the town have turned
golden yellow, and people are busy harvesting them. Most of the grain is
harvested by machine, and packed in big white sacks, but some is still
cut by hand with sickles. Some of these hand-cut wheat ears are kept and
even sold as home decoration - a wheat bouquet. Finally, mechanized balers
cross the fields, making bales from the remains of the crop. From our window
we see rows of green leafy tobacco, squash bordered by tall bright sunflowers,
and a few spindly broom plants - patches of green laid out like so many
ornaments on the golden fields of wheat. |
   Sunday,
6/9/02: We headed off to worship at the Latin Church of Visitation.
Today was the six-month memorial service for the father of one of our students.
Deaths are not only marked by the funeral (usually the day of or after
the death), but also by memorial services three days, forty days, six months,
and one year after. Depending on how close the family member is to
you, that determines how long you will wear black. After church,
Marthame headed off to Jenin to pick up
some digital cassettes, learning that it opened up again this morning.
Sure enough, it was open. The heat is still unbearable - opening
the taxi window only brings hotter air than that which is circulating inside
the car. The scene inside Jenin is much like a people trying to maintain
a sense of normalcy. Every incursion brings some more destruction
- sometimes it seems rather arbitrary, like the busted up pedestrian crossing
sign. And every departure means more straightening up. Who
can pay for this is a question we can’t answer. The evening (after
an inside respite from the heat) brought us back to the Latin Church for
the wedding of two young friends of ours. Her brother died tragically
of cancer less than a year ago - combining that with the current national
tragedy, the usual post-wedding party was stripped down to one dance for
the bride and groom followed by the feeding of the 5000 (well, perhaps
500 guests). For some of the family, this is the first time in nearly
a year that they haven’t worn black. With the weather we're having,
that's merciful. |
 Monday,
6/10/02: We headed off for Nablus this morning, as early as possible
to beat the heat. It’s amazing how much faster the commute from Zababdeh
can be when you don’t try it on a Friday (as Marthame did the
last time he went down). We switched taxis in Tubas,
then drove up just past the one-time summer playground of Beidan to the
beginning of the destroyed road.  This
has become a familiar passage for us, the twenty minute walk uphill through
ankle-deep dust that finely coats our shoes and pantlegs. A local
engineer shared our walk, talking about his nearly twenty years living,
studying, and working in Texas and West Virginia. Like so many others,
he returned to his homeland with the onset of Oslo, believing that finally
peace and independence were on the way to Palestine. Now, he and
his wife and kids are stuck here, with little work and little hope. The
sun beat down mercilessly as we boarded our final taxi in towards Nablus,
which let us off not too far from the Anglican Compound at the edge of
the Old City. We did stop on our short walk to share some delicious
knaffe
nablusiyye (Nablus’s famed cheese sweet) and a lot of icy cold water.
There was another Israeli incursion here last week, accompanied by a curfew
of four days. People find ways to adapt to the constant going and
coming of the army. Somehow they still manage to live their lives, but
their financial, physical, and emotional resources have worn dangerously
thin. After dropping off our bags with friends at the convent, cleaning
off our shoes and having a cool drink, we walked to the British Council
Library to return some books and videos and take advantage of their air-conditioning.  They
will be closing their doors in March, something extremely unfortunate for
us. We're hoping that the school can inherit some of their children's
resources to improve our English program. After catching up with friends
over lunch, we headed out to visit with the Missionaries of Charity and
Abuna Dominic, the eighty-seven year-old Italian priest who was once in
Zababdeh. It’s always a pleasure to visit with him and to walk with
him down his memory lane. As we strolled through his garden, two  teachers
from the Latin School in Nablus returned to the Latin Convent which they
are temporarily calling home. They live in the nearby village of
Huwara, which has the great misfortune of being situated right on the main
settler by-pass road to the south of Nablus. The village has been
under curfew since the beginning of the Intifada, almost two years.
Four hours a day, the curfew is lifted so people can go shopping and the
like. The rest of the time, people are forbidden to leave their homes.
These two teachers moved to the Latin Convent so that they could still
get to the school in Nablus. By chance, Marthame knows one of them - the
two of them were roommates at a computer conference in Tel
Aviv just days before Ariel Sharon sparked the flames of the current
violence. The conference was meant to bring school children together
across the dividing lines through internet projects - those days seem so
very distant and hopeful now. We then headed up to Raffidiya to visit
with Abuna Yousef at the Melkite Church of St. John the Baptist.
Raffidiya was once a Christian village in the Nablus district. Now,
it is a mixed neighborhood of sprawling "Greater Nablus." Abuna Yousef's
particular concern is for the shrinking, vanishing Christian population
in the northern West Bank. He related the stories of which villages
around here were once Christian - and not that long ago. He has taken
it upon himself to take care of the one or two elderly Christians who remain
in villages and cities like Sebastya, Nusf Jubeil, and Tulkarem.
He is hoping to build a Christian housing and cultural center on the grounds
of the Melkite Convent, but lacks the funding. For the some six hundred
Christians in Nablus, it could potentially be a stabilizing force.
We enjoyed the cool evening before heading back to the Anglican Compound.
The talk on the street is another Israeli incursion - everyone is sure
it will happen tonight, and everyone can give their evidence as to why:
the police are out on the streets, the army will pull out of Ramallah and
come here, the hospitals have all been contacted, etc. It's never
clear how much stock to put in this haki fadi (literally "free talk"
- gossip/rumor). The worry merely compounds itself, as each new report
sends people home early, which makes the streets quieter, which send more
people home, which... |
 Tuesday,
6/11/02: We slept in today, a rare treat for us in our curtain-challenged
sun-enters-early Zababdeh apartment with hi-fi-rooster-acoustics.
The weather, while still warm, has cooled off considerably today.
We headed towards the busy  center
circle, passing through the Old City, which Elizabeth hadn't seen since
the April siege. It is amazing to see several-foot thick stone walls destroyed,
and to imagine the firepower necessary for that. The worst damage was still
not as comprehensive or expansive as in Jenin Camp, but it was still very
disturbing. The estimates are that more damage - in terms of both lives
and dollar figures - was done here. From there, we hiked up to the
Latin School. The teachers and administrators were finishing up their
marks for the year, so we had a short but very pleasant visit. The
school was once run by St. Joseph sisters, and is still known by that name
around the city (though there are no longer any sisters there). It
sits up on a beautiful hill overlooking the hustle and bustle of Nablus.
The school is home to four hundred students, from kindergarten to eighth
grade, sixty of whom are Christian - probably the entire Christian population
of Nablus for children that age. We headed back down to the Circle
to visit one of Nablus' central tourist attractions, the old soap factories.
This one sits just outside of the Old City and is the only one still in
operation in the city - two were destroyed in recent Israeli incursions,
and two more have simply stopped production due to the crumbled Palestinian
economy. We are treated to a cool yogurt drink and a tour from the
proprietor, whose great-great-grandfather started the business. For
four days, the olive oil (imported from Italy - most local oil is consumed
by families, and so there's not enough left to buy for soap production),
caustic soda, and water are heated and turned in huge vats. Then,
the resulting "soup" is poured out across a huge floor, leveled off, and
cooled for a day. Then soap workers  stamp
the firming soap soup with the business insignia, cut it into bars, and
stack them into impressive conical piles. The soap will stay piled up for
several months to dry and harden. Then each bar is hand-wrapped in
paper (video - 5 sec.) and packed into
burlap bags. The business is largely export - about 85% - to markets
in and through Jordan. In the days of the Israeli Occupation of Nablus,
government officials would come to visit the factory when they would tour
the city. The last was Ariel Sharon when he was Minister of Defense.
Strange things happen in this place. Despite our fierce protestations,
we were given ten kilograms of the stuff - a generous (and hefty) gift.
After lunch with friends, we had to turn on the TV - it is World Cup time,
and Fr. Hossam, the Anglican priest for Zababdeh and Nablus, is a Germany
fan.  He
even brought his flag to celebrate their every goal against Cameroon.
Early in the evening, we took some time to film an interview with him -
we're hoping to show a short film this summer as part of our talk, with
each of Zababdeh's priests and pastors speaking a few words. After
a little soccer of our own, we took a cab to Raffidya to meet up with the
teachers from Huwara and share some more knaffe. As we headed back
to the Anglican compound, word came of a suicide bombing in Herzilya.
The whole city was already nervous about another Israeli incursion - this
news won’t make people any more relaxed. Our friends were despondent
about this latest attack - not only for the potential of innocent lives
lost, but also for what it might mean in reprisals. They are desperately
trying to leave the country, as are many young people. We sat out
on the porch eating supper and listening to the evening sounds of the city:
helicopters, gunfire, the usual. We hope tonight isn't the night
either. |
|
Wednesday, 6/12/02: Last night wasn’t the night. No army incursion, thankfully. We caught a taxi and headed back towards Zababdeh, expecting to walk the twenty minutes downhill. Somehow, in two days enough people have persisted that the road is now - vaguely - driveable. Unfortunately, we didn't leave from the garage, so our taxi dropped us off at the top of the hill. We began to walk down, hoping to find a ride at the bottom. As we walked, a white van with yellow (Israeli) plates drove past. "Do you want a ride?" one asked is flawless English. "Sure!" As we got in, one of the young men said, "Hello, pastor," in Arabic. It wasn't anyone we knew, and even though Marthame's collar is a dead giveaway to Christians, the 98% of Palestinians who are Muslim rarely catch that clue. Then we began to notice the van's decorations - the word "Jesus" written in English on the dashboard, a cross hanging from the rear view mirror, a picture of Mary, a Christian song on the tape deck...The four young men inside were Jerusalemite Palestinian Christians, members of the Christian Missionary Alliance church, headed up to Zababdeh to bring gifts to some of the families of the village. Many moments in this place would make great short stories - this was one of them. We arrived back in Zababdeh, thankful for our Providential (and air-conditioned!) ride, just in time to take care of some English translation work for various folks in the village. Given our imminent departure, many are anxious to visit - it’ll be a busy few days. |
   Thursday,
6/13/02: A busy day. Michel Sabbah, the Latin Patriarch
of Jerusalem, arrived this morning for one of his several annual visits.
This morning is his most important one - first was worship, a feast day
in Zababdeh, Ascension Thursday. Celebrated forty days after Easter,
it marks the day that Christ ascended to heaven (Acts 1). Since Western
churches in Jerusalem are on Western time and West Bank churches are on
Eastern time, the Patriarch was free to come up and worship in Zababdeh.
We also celebrated the confirmation of the Latin community's sixth graders
- they took part in the leadership of the service, from reading Scripture
to singing anthems and hymns. As the Patriarch completed his homily,
the students came up one by one, each accompanied by an adult. The
Patriarch anointed them with oil in the sign of the cross on their foreheads.
As the Mass ended, everyone headed downstairs for the next celebration
of the day (we pack them in around here), high school graduation.
For the kids who made it this year, it's quite a testament to their perseverance.   Most
of the ones from Jenin missed two months
of school. One of them who lives on the other side of Jenin snuck
through the hills every day, hiring special taxis on his own dime, in order
to finish up. Today was every bit a reminder of the hardships, though
- the Israeli army is in Tubas today,
where they've instituted a curfew. None of the teachers could come.
What a day for a party. As with most ceremonies here, there were
speeches from community leaders in addition to folklore dances and songs
from kids. The students also gave speeches, including a beautiful
one in English: a great testament to the school, the teachers, and the
community. As the seniors came forward to receive their diplomas,
one of the teachers read a poem she had written for each one based on the
meaning of his or her name. It was well-received with plenty of applause
and laughter - we sure wish we could understand more Arabic. As the
party closed, several older women gave the traditional congratulatory ululating.
It was quite moving. Congratulations, our young friends, congratulations.
We also said a sad farewell to one of our students who is moving back to
Romania.  We'll
miss him dearly, but there's little to tether young, bright people to this
place if they can escape. We wish there was more cause for hope... |
 Friday,
6/14/02: As is becoming customary these days, we are spending
an inordinate amount of time getting ready for our departure - not only
are we preparing talks and schedules and renovating our webpages (check
them
out!), we are also doing the mundane work of defrosting the fridge, dust-covering
furniture, and giving the toilet a final scrub. These are exciting
times. In the afternoon, Marthame met Abuna To'mie Daoud at the Greek
Orthodox Church for 5:00 prayers. Twice a day, in the morning and
evening, he prays at the church in Zababdeh, usually accompanied by one
or two of the congregatoin. It's a discipline that he keeps faithfully.
After prayers, Marthame filmed him for a video we're hoping to use this
summer in our talks. Now all we have to do is find someone to help
us translate it. |
  Saturday,
6/15/02: Today students' grades are available, and they came
in droves to pick them up. There were also lines out the door of
parents and students to ask about certain (low) marks. We saw the
teachers for the last time before our departure. The Tubas
teachers were there, too, and we were curious to hear about what happened
in their town on Thursday. About 3:00 in the morning, the Israeli
army had surrounded the village, primarily coming from the East and North.
There were some armed clashes as a result of this, but not very fierce
resistance - a handful of arms was no match for tanks. At 5:00, the
army announced a curfew, then went to houses asking for certain "wanted
men." One teacher had soldiers come to his house, and he reported
that the captain was very polite when asking about someone else in the
village. We have talked to many people about their experiences with
Israeli soldiers in their homes, and they have widely-varying experiences.
Some of them are horrendous and terrifying (wanton destruction and theft
of personal property, forced use as human shields, etc). Others (like our
Tubasi teacher friend) report that soldiers  were
polite and orderly. And occasionally, Palestinians report genuine kindness
and compassion from their Israeli occupiers. Much of the behavior
seems to boil down to the attitude of the Captain in charge. The
kind and polite ones give us hope. In the afternoon, Marthame walked
over to the Latin Convent to film Abuna Aktham. After a week of wrapping
up the school, the poor soul is beat. We hope he gets a chance to
rest this summer. We also got a call later that Fr. Hossam was in
Zababdeh for a baptism. We went over to St. Matthew's, Marthame assisting
in the service of - not one, but two - baptisms. The church was every
bit as full as - if not more so than - it would normally be on a Sunday
morning, but since everyone is related to everyone else in the village,
there's not enough room for everyone to come for a family ceremony.
Marthame was up late finishing up some paperwork when the power went out
(as it does every night from 2:00 to 5:00 - to save petrol for the generator).
The town was deadly still - no lights, save from the University, making
the stars plain to view; no sounds, save the barking of the dogs and the
distinct rumble of an Israeli tank. |
|
Sunday, 6/16/02: We made a last round of visits to each  of
the churches to say our goodbyes and to worship at the Anglican Church
before leaving town. Before we left home, we downloaded some wonderful
news - our dear friend Dr. Fahed Abu-Akel (from Kufr
Yasif) was elected Moderator of the Presbyterian
Church (USA). Alf mabrouk (a thousand congratulations)!
We took our roundabout taxi to the two of Jalame, walking along the settler
road up to the checkpoint. We approach checkpoints with a lot of
caution these days. The soldier who stopped us spoke very little
English, but was very good at pointing and shouting. He flipped through
our passports, and looked at our cellphone, asking, "you have in
Jenin?" With his middle finger he then thumped Marthame's throat,
on his clergy tab, saying, "What this?" How fresh! Finally,
he handed us our passports - "take...go." It takes all kinds.
We caught our second taxi to the Sheikh Hussein bridge, breezing through
passport control and customs, catching the Jordanian bus on the other side.
This is the first time we've actually seen the bus moving (unbelievable).
It's cheaper than the taxi we usually have to take to Amman, but we soon
discovered why - first it heads north to the city of Irbid before heading
south towards Amman, doubling the journey. Whatever - we have time.
We arrived to visit with our friends in Amman (part of the Zababdeh diaspora),
watch the Spain-Ireland penalty shots, eat an overdue lunch, take an (even
more) overdue nap, and head out into the gorgeous Amman night for batikh
(watermelon) from a roadside stand and hummos from a local restaurant.
It looks like a good night's rest awaits us. |
  Monday,
6/17/02: Today we played it very quiet, waking up in time to
watch a couple of World Cup games with our hosts before doing a little
shopping and the like. It was nice to see the USA win - first time
they've made it this far in the tournament! We had another reason
to celebrate, this being our seventh anniversary. We went out together
to a nice restaurant called Kaan Zamaan (Roughly translates to "It
was a long time ago") outside of town to have a nice dinner in the cool
desert evening. |
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Tuesday, 6/18/02: We're ready (n'sha'allah - God willing). The bags are packed, our tickets our confirmed, and we have a big fat bowl of ice cream waiting for us in Texas when we arrive! What more could you want? We're coming to America (theme music courtesy of Neil Diamond - 3 sec.). |
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