When the Bulbul Stopped Singing by Raja Shehadeh

When the Bulbul Stopped Singing by Raja Shehadeh

Author:Raja Shehadeh [Shehadeh, Raja]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Steerforth Press
Published: 2020-05-05T00:00:00+00:00


8 APRIL

Penny is back. She arrived at eleven this morning. I went to meet her at the Kalandia checkpoint. I was not allowed to approach this formidable-looking barrier now blocking the much-traveled road to Jerusalem. From a distance I saw her emerging from that other world beyond the cordon of tanks and soldiers around Ramallah. Behind her the air was embrowned with the shadows of helmeted soldiers sheltering behind newly constructed shacks covered by camouflage netting like dry seaweed, the color of earth.

At first they would not allow her to cross. They let her through only after she convinced the soldiers that she lives in Ramallah. They told her she could enter Ramallah but would not be allowed to leave. I felt such relief when I saw her bright, happy face. We hugged. We were reunited. My solitary confinement is over.

Samer and I met Penny on the outskirts of the town, where supplies of fresh vegetables have been allowed. We saw many of our friends at the vegetable shop. Ghassan told us that his wife was abroad. “But never mind,” he said with typical Palestinian dry humor, “it saves on water. One shower instead of two.”

People were swarming over the vegetables. It’s been days since the army has allowed fresh vegetables and dairy products into Ramallah. I noticed they were all Israeli. Palestinian growers are still prevented from selling their crops.

In Ramallah the army, with their tanks and soldiers, are stationed behind barbed wire in fixed locations. This means there was no interaction with the public, lest the soldiers discover that those they’ve come to terrorize are fellow human beings.

I didn’t watch television last night. I read, then slept early and woke up at five-thirty. After doing some housecleaning, I showered and shaved and dressed. I wanted to stay looking tidy and follow my routine and keep things orderly and clean. It’s very important for my spirits and sense of self.

But what a luxury a garden is. I realized this in 1967, when I couldn’t water during the war and everything went dry and dusty — there was so much dust in the air. And now I realize what it takes to keep a good garden: nurseries, supplies, water, and the right mood to do the hard labor. Much of these essential elements are not there now. To make it worse, my garden this year has been afflicted with some fungus that I was too late in treating; many plants are drooping. Today I have finally sprayed. Hopefully, things will begin to look up.



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