Medical Initiative For the Benefit of

The Children of Palestine

Ear Surgery for Palestinian Children

By Dr. Ibrahim K. Ladaa

Message from Nablus, August 6, 2003

Dear Colleagues,

It is almost five o’clock on a Wednesday afternoon. The sun is already setting over the Mediterranean. In the process, the sea is enveloped by a fine, summery red and white blanket. In the evenings when I couldn’t sleep as a child, my mother used to tell me about this blanket which lulled the sun into a peaceful slumber.  That was in our house, only a stone’s throw away from the sea, the sea where my ancestors were fishermen, from whom our family name is derived, the sea of Jaffa, my native town.

I am sitting on a beautiful verandah in the old town of Nablus, in the hotel of al-Yassmin, a fine building that was constructed according to ancient oriental design.  Various souks (markets) and bazars remind me of older buildings.  There is the Suk al-Bassal(onion market), Suk al-Lahem (meat market), Suk al-Zahab (gold market) and Suk al-Attarien (spice market).

A young couple is sitting on another verandah; they seem to be in love.  The woman with the pretty face is wearing an Islamic garment. They are speaking very softly and intensely to each other.  Their eyes tell many stories, stories of being in love, like everywhere in the world, even during the occupation. At this moment a picture of the wall, which the Israelis are building only a few kilometers away, appears in front of my eyes. It is a dead picture.

The service here is very nice, but still a little unsure, not everything is perfect yet. But they are always friendly and they laugh, even if you get a bit angry because it takes a long time before you get just a glass of juice. A television is on in one of the neighboring rooms. It is on the whole day but nobody looks or listens.  Nobody is interested in what’s on TV, but on the other hand people always want to be informed.  Everybody is well aware of the tension and is afraid of missing something.

At breakfast this morning I asked for the daily newspaper. The waiter looked at me and asked me what day it was today (Schu alyaum?).  I was surprised about a waiter who began his day serving breakfast and didn't know what day it was. I sensed that he thought that every day was the same for him.  The sun shines every day, the sky is blue, and the day begins at sunrise and ends after midnight.  All his thoughts revolved around the day on the weekend when he can visit his family and around the question of how he can get through the ‘mahsum’(checkpoint).

How many checkpoints will he have to go through? Will older or younger soldiers be on guard there? Will he be able to get back to work on time? He only gets paid if he works. If he is late or can’t come at all for a few days it is possible that he will lose his job.  A waiter told me that his house is eight kilometers away from Nablus and in order to get there he already has to go through one mahsum.  Mahsums are fixed checkpoints in contrast to the mobile ‘flying mahsums.’  These are even worse because they are operated by young settlers whose sole aim is to harass and humiliate the Arabs. It takes the waiter four hours to travel the eight kilometers via many detours to his village and that has been going on for two years.

Ibrahim K. Ladaa