Nabi Saleh’s Tears
Reflections on a (Literal) Toxic Mix…
by Christine Baniewicz
I lean against the walls of a small bathroom in Nabi Saleh.
Someone knocks on the door.
“Just a minute.†I sniff and spit into the toilet. Alright, enough. I emerge.
I arrived in Nabi Saleh an hour ago with my colleague, Sarah, and a few students from Jenin. The journey took two hours.
“I hope they don’t spray the water,†I said.
Talib turns to face me. Morning sun bounces off his aviators as behind him, steam rises from a paper cup of coffee.
“The shit water, khara.â€
“Ah, yes,†says Talib. “The shit.†(more…)