Citizens worry over post-Arafat era
ALTHOUGH grief and uncertainty are palpable in Ramallah, Palestinians are becoming anxious of what will become of the country as the symbol for their struggle for a nationhood, Yasser Arafat, is gone.
A sombre mood descended on Ramallah when the news of Arafat's death finally came. For days, it had been expected, and Palestinians had been preparing themselves for the announcement from the Military Hospital in France.
So in a sense, it came as a relief; the old man's suffering had come to an end. But the big question in many Palestinian minds is "What happens now?"
"I'm not sad", said one young man catching a bus at the Manara junction in the centre of Ramallah.
"His time had come and it's now time to move on, time for new Palestinian leaders.
"It is just the same old circle of decision-makers, making the same mistakes", he said.
"They should have taken a stand on the burial issue, insisting on his burial in Jerusalem to show the Palestinians that they were striving to achieve our nationalist goals", he said.
Others who gathered at the Manara junction were there out of a genuine sense of grief.
"This is so difficult, I feel so bad", said Najwa Hamdi, a young woman perched on the kerb clutching her handbag with tears welling up in her eyes.
"He was a father to every Palestinian and a sign of freedom in the world", she added.
Unlike Hamdi's, most faces were blank. Their anxiety about a future without the veteran standard-bearer for their cause left them with hollow faces and nervous expressions.
Several hundred people drifted to this usually traffic-clogged junction. Cars drove past respectfully, not threatening to mow down anyone in their path as usual.
A large, expensive-looking off-road vehicle with tinted windows, twin black flags and loudspeakers broadcasting funeral Koranic verses passed repeatedly through the crowd.
Another much less fancy vehicle also crawled along the streets. It had yellow, Israeli-issued number-plate. Posters of Arafat decorated the closed windows and scruffy kids peered out of the open ones.
The driver was making sure traders who had opened their stalls were now dutifully closing them.
The crowd thinned out in the streets that fan out from the Manara and the heightened atmosphere was relieved.
In the nearby Hisbeh Market, in fact, there were barely suppressed smiles among the traders standing around the steel gate that locked out potential customers.
One of them is posing, fingers making victory signs, through the bars, a sardonic joke recalling the defiance of Palestinians taken prisoners by the Israeli Army.
Many Palestinians wonder nervously what will happen next.
"Mr. Arafat caused us problems when he was alive and he is causing us problems now he is dead. We have goods to sell", said one of the traders, a religious-looking man with a grey beard, who did not want to give his name.
All over the place, their wooden carts, groaning with fruit and vegetables, stood unattended to with plastic sacks covering the piles of fresh produce.
"Everyday a Palestinian citizen is killed by the Israeli Army in Gaza or Jenin or Nablus...and they (Arafat and his allies) do not do anything", said a garage owner from the suburbs who came to stand and watch.
"Why should we be more sad about him than anyone else?" he queried.
Down at the Kalandia checkpoint where the Israeli Army controls all access to nearby Jerusalem from Ramallah was quieter than usual.
The dusty chaos on the Ramallah side with taxis, buses, pedestrians all jostling for space was more subdued than usual.
As news of Arafat's death sunk in, people started thinking about the immediate implications. Would they be able to get from A to B, always a tricky prospect in the occupied West Bank if Israel started imposing travel restrictions to prevent unrest?
In fact, the soldiers were being more polite than usual, anxious perhaps not to provoke any awkward situation. There was no evidence of the usual casual brutality that they frequently dish out to Palestinians.
It could be the calm before the storm if people are prevented from crossing for Arafat's funeral.
