Ruins

 As we wandered the shady streets of the old city of Nablus, my friend Heba pulled me into one of the arched entryways. There sat several men and boys. She asked if we could look around, and one of the boys agreed to give us a tour.

In heavily accented Arabic in which about half the consonants took on the sound 'a, he told us that the building was a 2000-year-old palace. However, these ruins contained no ropes or fences, and we climbed up crumbling staircases, over piles of rocks and trash and through bushes, emerging to admire views of the old city.

Though ancient, Nablus is still a populated city and current life mingles with history as the population carries out daily routines on the sites dating from the Bronze age to the present. Some rooms were crumbling, but others contained fire pits, and some even displayed new doors, satellite dishes and plants outside. At many doorways or staircases, our guide would shake his head, saying, “Fi nass.” (There are people there.)

As we explore, I realized that two stories were being told. Part of the story was of an ancient Roman palace, but the descriptions of many of the rooms and the piles of rubble referred to events that took place in the last ten years. Once again, the past and present blended together, as I learned that though most of the structure was now in ruins, it was occupied fairly recently.

“This is where Israeli snipers sat to shoot down on the streets.”

“This wall was hit by a bomb and fell down on people's heads.”

He showed us a hole in the floor, saying, “There was a house here, and another one below. The floor collapsed on the family below.”