We were awakened at 4:30 AM last night by the sounds of banging on the piano, like someone had fallen against it. In a panic, I screamed, "What's going on?" I heard from each of the kids, "It wasn't me, Mommy." I screamed again. Mike turned the lights on; the kids scurried out of their rooms to our room. I was afraid there was a burgler in the house (actually, I was afraid there was a terrorist in the house). I don't know what the kids thought. Mike got up to look around. I don't know if that was prudent or not. In fact, I don't know if my calling out when I heard the sound was prudent, or whether turning on the light was right, or if the kids should have stayed in their rooms or come out to our room.
Mike came back with the report that he didn't find anything amiss or anybody in the apartment. In the meantime, I called the police. Not quite -- first I called information, and they told me I had to call the police. I haven't memorized the emergency numbers. By the time I got to the police, Mike and the kids had decided that a cat had gotten into the apartment, that when it landed on the piano, it got scared and ran back out. I had the police come out anyway. It took them ten minutes; if someone dangerous had been in the apartment, we would have been dead by then. They looked around and didn't find anything; they liked the cat story too. They even thought they saw paw prints; I have great eyes, but I'm not so sure that what they pointed to was paw prints.
The cat story is still the explanation everyone likes. There are an unbelievable number of stray cats around here, and we did have doors and windows open. But at one point in the night after the police came, there were four of us in our bed. Mike and the kids claim not to be scared anymore. I guess the logic in me thinks the cat explanation makes sense, but another part of me still isn't so sure; my stomach is still (at 2:30 the next afternoon) in knots.
Why am I still in terror? Some context will explain perhaps.
1. We received our shipment from the States, 28 boxes, on Tuesday (2 days ago), and they are mostly in the middle of the living room floor. We had the piano delivered yesterday (borrowed from a colleague). Tuesday and Wednesday saw a lot of workmen in our apartment, all of whom saw the boxes with computers and stereo equipment. It is very dark in the apartment at night. The "treesim" (shutters) close out all the light. A person wandering around the apartment without the lights on could easily have tripped on the boxes and fallen against the piano.
2. Yesterday was a tough day in Israel. Today is worse. Israel or the City of Jerusalem or the tourist office (I'm not sure who) opened a new passageway from the Western Wall out into the Old City yesterday, and while an agreement on its route and so on had been worked out with Rabin before he was assassinated, the Palestinians are apparantly seeing this as a sort of last straw. The path burrows under Moslem holy sites, they say. So the tunnel opening broke the camel's back, and yesterday saw rioting in Jerusalem's Old City, in Bethlehen, and in Ramallah (an Arab town north of Jerusalem). In Ramallah, Israeli and Palestinian police exchanged fire, leaving a half dozen or so dead and many more wounded.
3. When the Arabs are disturbed, one of their tactics is to blare the call to prayer and whatever else they feel like broadcasting loud enough to keep Jerusalem awake. It was very loud last night.
4. These last two must have been the reason for the dream I was having when I awoke. I was dreaming that the Arabs were broadcasting threats -- "it will all look fine, but watch out for the bathrooms." I was already awake and shaking from the dream when I heard the piano do its thing.
There is more fighting going on today. I heard a two-liner on the BBC and then turned the radio to an Israeli station. BBC announced that "the death toll is rising in the conflict in the Middle East." From what I can understand of the Hebrew on the radio (I tend to understand gist, but sometimes I get it completely wrong), there is fighting going on in Gaza and Ramallah, there have been scores of deaths, and the ambulences and hospitals are busy. I think I also heard that there is fighting going on in Bethlehem and around the occupied territories. They use the word "krav," which means "fight." But I did hear the word "milchama," which means "war", once. I'm not sure what I heard about the Old City in Jerusalem, which is where this started yesterday. I heard one report that I thought was from the Old City with gunfire in the background, but then I understood all the words of another report 20 minutes later that said that there were lots of police in the Old City and that while yesterday had been tense there, today it was quiet and almost "pasturali." The radio announcer ended by thanking the brave soldiers who are risking their lives for the good of the community. I couldn't help thinking that my brother goes into the reserves a week from today, and he may be in one of these areas.
The ride home from Orly's ulpan takes us past the Jaffa and Damascus Gates of the Old City. I decided to take the slow route through downtown and Meah Shearim to get home; I didn't want to take any chances on misunderstanding the news reports.
My stomach is still going, though this writing has helped some. In my mind there was, and still is, a connection between the fighting in the streets of Israel and the territories and the disturbance in my apartment. I can't help but connect loud noises and terror. There are a lot of sonic booms around here; they make me a wreck.
I realize now that my dream was in Hebrew -- my first Hebrew dream. Someday I hope to laugh about the cat. I'll never laugh about the fighting or the terror. I don't know if I hope to get used to it so I can make it through the year or if I hope I never get used to it so I remain a better person.