The Hour of the Wolf at the Muqata

It’s midnight. I can hear the sound of gunfire in the distance, like many nights before. My Palestinian friend Rabie, a young journalist, informs me of shootings around the headquarters of the late Palestinian President Yasser Arafat, the Muqata. According to his news sources, the Israel Defence Forces (IDF) have occupied a tall building opposite the main entrance to the Muqata and are scattered around it. During our conversation, he decides to leave his office to check it out in person. I ask to join him.

We decide to meet outside the house where I am staying. It is a risky business since it involves Rabie taking his car from one side of the Muqata to my house on the other side, a trip that may be disrupted by the IDF if they happen to stop him en route.

He makes it to my house and we start walking. The shooting has stopped and an eerie and ominous silence lingers over the area where we are walking. The streets are dark and empty. The only sound is the echoing of our voices.

We reach the Muqata. The Palestinian Presidential guards are all inside the compound. Rabie explains to me that that is a bad sign seeing that the guards are normally posted both inside and outside the compound. We ask the guards about the presence of the IDF. They point to a tall building across the street and say that the Israelis occupied the building and are now there. They also point to the street we had just walked down and say that Israeli army jeeps had been seen driving up the crossing street. But we do not get any answers as to why the IDF are there. No one knows.

I feel like I am being watched. “They can see you but you can’t see them unless they want you to see them. Make no sudden moves and keep your hands out of your pockets.” I heed Rabie’s advice and we make our way back towards the intersection at the edge of the Muqata.

When reaching the intersection, Rabie and I look up the road where the guards said they had seen Israeli army jeeps drive up. We see one army jeep parked at the side of the road. Two “T.V.” cars appear from nowhere. One of the “T.V.” cars drives up the road where the army jeep is parked. Suddenly, there is the sound of a roaring engine and with a flash of speed, the army jeep pulls out and blocks the road. Through the loudspeaker system, the Israeli soldier orders the “T.V.” car to pull back. T.V. crew members from both cars get out with their cameras ready to document whatever is going to happen next.

Two Israeli soldiers jump out of the army jeep and ask the T.V. crew members for I.D.s. The soldiers have their M-16 rifles pointed right at one of the T.V. crew members. One of the soldiers approaches the T.V. crew member and puts his M-16 machine gun to the back of his neck while the other soldiers are checking his I.D.

I cannot believe what I am actually witnessing. Or rather, I do not want to believe my eyes. I keep thinking what would happen if a Swedish policeman or soldier would put an M-16 machine gun to the back of my neck when asking for my I.D. or driver’s license in a routine check.

“This is nothing. It happens all the time. We are used to it,” Rabie says. I believe him.

After a few minutes, the T.V. crew member is released. And so are we – from our mission - after having stood outside a building allegedly swarming with IDF soldiers.

We make our way back through the dark and quiet streets of Ramallah to my house. Before we depart, Rabie looks at me and says: “You know, the only way to survive in this madness is to joke about it. We have to have positive thinking. Do you know what that means for us Palestinians?”

According to Rabie, positive thinking is defined by the following:

“You hear a little bird in the sky and you look up. Suddenly, it s**ts right into your eye. You don’t really bother about it; you don’t cry or get upset – you just thank God that cows cannot fly.”

Fortunately, I am wearing glasses.