You can spend a whole day just getting lost in the winding streets of Nablus' old city. Trays of kunafa, the orange-colored doughy, goat-cheesy, honey-liscious sweet for which Nablus is famous, greet you at every corner. If you venture a little further down stairwells and small tunnels, you may find an old soap factory or two where they still make olive oil soap by hand. Somewhere in the middle of the old city, there is a small palace, the now-abandoned home of some aristocratic family, bitter mandarin trees populating its open courtyard.
And you can't miss the posters. Nablus may not have seen fighting like in Jenin during the Second Intifada, but some locals say that Nablus has historically given the lion share of Palestinian martyrs. And they have the posters to prove it. Every wall of the city is plastered and re-plastered with pictures of 'martyrs', usually with a Koranic inscription enshrouding their head, and a photo of the leaders of the respective groups. As I talked to some gangly youth hanging out in the Ras el-Ain neighborhood, one of them pointed to a poster on the wall and indicated that the grim-faced Al-Aqsa Brigades fighter had been his brother. I look closely at the poster. Below the picture of the youth carrying a gun half his size are smaller pictures of him after his death. A kuffiyeh covers the hole where his brains were apparently blown out. Another picture shows him without the kuffiyeh.
The posters, the memorials. There are plenty. And today, new ones will be put up. In the early morning, IDF forces stormed the old city and the Ras el-Ain neighborhood and assassinated three members of the Al-Aqsa brigade. When I first arrived in the city, the streets were emptying after a 20,000-strong march to the cemetery to bury the three new 'martrys'. (Muslim traditions require a swift burial after death). They had already shoveled over the last bit of dirt when I arrived at the graves. Ghassan Abu Sharkh was buried next to his brother, Naif, also an Al-Aqsa member killed in 2004. People are still at the gravesite, praying. From the hillsides overlooking Nablus, I'm sure the soldiers who killed these men, alleged to be the masterminds of the recent murder of a West Bank settler, are pondering Al-Aqsa's threat of responding in the "language of blood and fire." Mustafa Barghouti, the runner-up for PA presidency in 2005, gives an interview nearby saying that Israel only understands "the language of force."
Language, language. Everyone's thinking about with what language to respond. Political futures may once again be on the line. I head up to the Ras el-Ain home of Anan Sabah, one of the men targeted in the morning raid. My taxi driver, aware that I am American, feels a little uncomfortable leaving me among all the suspicious eyes, but I tell him not to worry. I introduce myself and after some time, suspicions lead to desires to tell me what happened. I'm introduced to Anan's brother, still red-eyed and in shock. I notice an extreme amount of equally shocked children wandering about.
He tells me how the soldiers first fired from the street into the windows before ordering everyone out. The walls are full of bullet holes. The windows shot out. Every room has been trashed. Used tear gas and sound grenade shells are laying around. Anan was recently let out of jail, he tells me; in exchange for writing off violence, he would not be targeted by Israeli forces. When the soldiers came, everyone was ordered out of the house except for Anan. Close to 90 people, Anan, his 5 siblings and their children, lived in this building. When they were allowed back in, they found his body riddled with bullets.
Anan's children, nine of them if my surprised ears heard right, are scattered around the house or at the local mosque. One 3-year-old, sleeping on a mat, springs out of his sleep when Anan's brother wakes him. He looks jumpy. "He hasn't stopped using the bathroom since this morning. Because of the fear," I'm told.
Israel is claiming a 'victory against terror' now. As I walk back down through the old city, a mob is rushing a young boy carrying handfuls of posters. The Al-Aqsa Martyrs Brigades have already printed out huge color posters of their three newest martyrs. Everyone is mobbing the young delivery boy, who yells that he can't give posters to everyone. Chaos. Somehow, it seems that despite all the language, no one can really claim victory in this latest round of bloodshed.
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