ABSTRACT
Spending more than just a few fleeting moments in Deir Ballut has allowed me to build friendships and connections with people in Palestine in a way that I couldn’t before. My dearest friend of all in the village is Reem, a warm and politically active mother of four whose house has become a real haven for me. On the first night of the New Year I was sitting with Reem and her husband drinking tea when I smelled smoke. I opened the window and found the night air uncommonly foggy. It was raining ash. We could hear people yelling outside, appealing to everyone in the village to come help. We ran outside to find the streets full of women and men carrying buckets of water from their homes. They were running towards a building with a great cloud of smoke growing behind it. I saw huge flames exploding from behind the building. I asked someone near me if anyone was inside and she shook her head.
