Still Corona, Well COVID-19
The exposure has turned into positive cases here on the WestBank. The scientific name hasn’t lessened the panic. I’ve seen the panic in theUS media, and reportedly the local Facebook pages are viral—pardon the pun.
On Thursday six cases were confirmed in Bethlehem. Bethlehem is “locked down.” No one can enter or leave the city. Tourists are quarantined in a hotel. For the rest the rest of Palestine, the health ministry called a state of emergency and closed schools, churches and mosques. Gatherings of more than 50 are prohibited. Celebrations, demonstrations and sporting events were canceled. Today is International Women’s Day celebrated as a holiday here. Due to the “lock down” the celebrations are canceled or streamed on Facebook.
There’s been lots written all over the world about managing with quarantine and closures—ways of slowing the spread when medical supplies and staff are limited--probably not a bad response. The CDC recommends wearing gowns, gloves and masks when evaluating a possible sick patient, and changing it with each patient. Not enough protective equipment here. Not enough in the US either.
Uncertainty and lack of control causes panic. One local physician had a sick patient with cough and fever come into her exam room and the physician reportedly stood up and left. Not exactly professional behavior. Another physician was worried because she’d collected samples on two dozen hotel patrons in Bethlehem. She mused on a physician-only social media site: Was she exposed? What should she do? Physicians have been training for the past month. But the knowledge doesn’t seem to quell the more primitive flight and fright response. Or fight!
Last week a teen warned me about Corona. Now I am suspected as a carrier -- the foreigners brought it! I walk through a small village between the university and the apartment. Typically I greet those I pass with simple Arabic phrases -- the children, the shop owners, and other locals on the street. Sometimes the kids on bikes ride with me and practice their English and show off with wheelies and other maneuvers. On Saturday when we were 48 hours into the crisis, some of the boys yelled Corona as I passed, nothing threatening. I continued on at a steady pace. Others on the street responded to my greetings in their usual friendly manner.
When I reached the apartment I had a WhatsApp message from the local coordinator of the internationals here in Nablus. She warned us to stay inside, to avoid crowds because foreigners were being harassed and some had been spit at. Others were denied taxi rides. I had not experienced such treatment, but it was unsettling.
As a Caucasian female I’ve experienced gender discrimination. But my white skin usually buys me lots of privileges. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve been on the receiving side of being “the other.” And it’s never pleasant.
The other. Who has power and who does not is very much part of the experience here. I tell myself it is good to experience it, good to walk in another’s shoes—ostracized, less than, unlikeable. . .To understand what that feels like, gain empathy and compassion.
These times of uncertainty bring out the worst and sometimesthe best.
So this morning I woke up to sunshine. Seeking the positive, I pulled on my hiking boots and headed down into the valley behind the complex. It is filled with olive trees, a shack with donkeys, another with sheep, and of course an abundance of wild flowers. It was still early, so not many people were out. The birds were active. The almond and fruit trees perfumed the air around them. The flowers shimmered in the morning sunlight and breeze. I’ll leave you with the sunset and moonrise and the call to prayers echoing across the hills from three mosques.
At Sunset and Moonrise: the Call to prayers echoing from three mosques
And the promise of spring. Wishing you peace of heart during these unsettling times.