WELCOME

So, on the Thursday morning, onwards to the West Bank and to Nablus, where I am due to be volunteering with an organisation called Project Hope. Again, I was nervous, this time about passing through the checkpoint into the West Bank. Again, I needn’t have worried as the bus I was travelling on wasn’t even stopped. (Again, I’m told it’s more hassle on the way out. Again, I’ll worry about that when the time comes.)

Arriving into the West Bank, the first thing I noticed was a Coca-Cola truck driving past, then a massive mural of Yasser Arafat.

In Nablus, I was met by Nizar. To be honest, I’m not sure exactly what his role is with Project Hope, or whether he is a volunteer or paid staff, but he seems to be the man responsible for making sure people get to the Project Hope offices okay and get all the relevant paperwork filled out. He also gave me a wee impromptu tour of the Old City. Having just arrived in Nablus, there was almost too much to take in, though I was touched by the time taken to introduce me to the city.

We met a man whose name was something like “Sameh” who almost immediately invited me to his house. Here I was given tea and some sweet pastries left over from Eid, the holiday that marks the end of Ramadan. My host was also kind enough to try to teach me a few Arabic words and phrases.

I was disappointed with myself that, despite the time this man had taken to welcome me and show his hospitality, I couldn’t quite get his name.

I had already concluded that I would struggle to remember names when, back at the Project Hope offices, I was first introduced to a few staff and some local volunteers. The problem wasn’t just the number of people I was meeting in such a short period of time, or the fact that I’m bad with names generally. The issue was more that most names, as with most Arabic words, sound to my ignorant Western ears like a random collection of vowel and consonant sounds (many of which my mouth doesn’t seem to be able to reproduce). Unlike with most European languages, there is absolutely nothing for my brain to latch on to in attempting to ensure I can recall what I’m hearing.

For example, I was introduced to four or five local volunteers at once. I made a joke about the fact that I wouldn’t remember all their names. They laughed politely. One volunteer attempted to make sure that I at least remembered his name by pointing at himself and enthusiastically chanting his name over and over. Later, he asked me what his name was and I had absolutely no idea. He told me again but, as I write this, I can’t be sure of what his name is. It may be something along the lines of “Fadi”.

I’m regretting not having learnt at least a wee bit of Arabic before I came over, though I was pleased to learn that I will be provided with some Arabic classes while I’m here. I will be a model student.

I’ve already lost count of the number of times somebody has said to me, “you’re very welcome”.

Old habits that I must try harder to break: stretching my feet out in front of me when I sit, eating and/or drinking with my left hand, putting toilet paper into the toilet. An old habit that will serve me well: drinking my tea strong and with lots of sugar.