I Missed The Light Switches In Our House

In the first few days of my trip to Palestine, several friends here in the US were (or at least I would like to think they were) worried, as they did not hear me to inform them I had made it past Israeli border police and roadblocks to arrive home.

You see, email is still the preferred mode of communication, especially that cell phones don’t yet do a particularly marvelous job roaming around the globe and transcending borders.

On a different note, when I returned, I was scolded by many for not continually updating them about things in Palestine via email newsletters or posts at KABOBfest. I apologize for both, but…
The reason for both is one and the same.

For the entirety of my stay in Palestine, my little, precious hometown of Rummaneh, just outside Jenin did not have electricity. And I still have not yet learned how to adapt my laptop and PDA to run on the kerosene lamp that seems to do for most people after sunset.

Here is the deal: There are two electrical networks in Rummaneh. The new one, which is connected to the main Israeli grid, and the older one, but remains functional, that used to power the town through a couple of large, communally-owned generators. In the good days, those generators provided the town with up to 18 hours of electricity a day.

But these days hardly qualify as good. For a while, the town bought electricity from the Israeli’s, since the Israeli imposed sanction and withholding of tax money went into effect a year ago, most of the town’s population had not received salaries, and others in the private sector, such as merchants and craftsmen, depend on those with steady income. So no body can now pay for electricity.

The Israeli’s, despite holding millions of dollars in Palestinian money, and taking much of it to pay such bills, cut off electricity from Rummaneh. The town resorted to its local network and generators (I guess they still don’t trust the Israeli’s, so they kept the network), but very quickly ran out of fuel.

There are two problems with fuel. First, very little of it is available; Israel has suspended most of the shipments to the West Bank, and at best, restricted the amount allowed in. Just another measure of collective punishment; Israelis can’t sleep unless they know they are applying some against a civilian population.

The second problem with diesel fuel is that it is expensive, I mean, wartime expensive. The very little Israel allows in, has more than doubled in price over the past year. And my little humble hometown, which could not pay for electricity off the main grid, could not pay for fuel either. So it sat in the dark. At least five other towns within few minutes drive shared the same fate, including Ya’bad, population nearly 30,000.

Forget heating, cuddling and blankets seem to be back in style this winter. But, if you found somebody with a functioning cell phone, you know they just came from a different town, where they had the chance to charge it.

My friend Emily visited us while I was home, it happened to be here birthday, so we decided to have a little candle-blowing ceremony for her. My brother under-guessed her age by one year, so there was a quick solution. The candle and kerosene light add a romantic touch to the setting, but there is no switching the lights on afterwards.

That little kerosene lamp probably belongs to a museum somewhere. But don’t let that fool you into thinking it is out of style. It what helps my sister Nadine prepare for her college qualification exams, she also hugs the space heater pretty closely. It is propane powered, which has a similar saga to that of diesel.

My little brother Siddeeq also relies on it to do his homework (with the occasional help of Mohammed), to take it back to an unlit, unheated school, where the computer class was canceled all semester…

But there is always something to smile about.

On the plus side, many of the people I left behind changed too much for me to recognize, kids became men, and others carry signs of the years. Many people came to greet me at home, so in the evening, those I did not recognize, I courageously asked who they were, blaming the dim candle light for not being able to make out their faces. During the day, I had to get a little more creative, or just face it.

While home, I really missed the act of switching the lights on at home; I had missed our light switches. I didn’t know I looked forward to them in my visit.

If you are a sucker for happy endings, there is none here, but you might care to know that the town’s people managed to collect enough money to run the generators for 4 hours a day during Eid Al Adha festivities near the end of my stay... but they are back in the dark again.

[Tarboush tip to Emily for the photos]