‘That’s Hebrew music,’ Suleiman said.

‘Abu Mahir got to like Hebrew music when he was in jail.’ This surprised me. I would have thought that the situation in which he was exposed to it would have conditioned him against it. Even more surprising, Abu Mahir had also learned Hebrew in jail and spoke it well. ‘Why did you do this?’ I asked. ‘It’s the language of the oppressor surely?’ Abu Mahir shrugged off this suggestion. It was something to occupy his time, he said. I later found that many Palestinians were reasonably fluent in Hebrew, particularly those who had worked in Israel before the intifada, and had no qualms about it.

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The next day I discovered the source of the gunfire at the university gate. It had started as an argument between some drivers of the taxis which lined up at the gate to ferry students into town. One driver had tried to jump the queue and another tried to stop him. The argument got more heated. One of them pulled out a gun and started firing it in the air, then some other men got out their guns and they were all firing in the air in a sabre-rattling sort of way. ‘It’s very regrettable,’ Ala said. ‘There are a lot of problems in Nablus caused by people getting guns and going around in armed gangs. They get the guns from Israelis who are only too happy to contribute to adestabilising of Palestinian society, and it’s difficult for the Palestinian police to deal with it as they’re not armed themselves.’

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‘In the West you criticize the Arab countries for their governments, sons inheriting from fathers. What about the Bush family? And did you know the Bush family were supporting Hitler in the 1940s? No? Well, you know nothing.’

He was stamping up and down in his anger, marching from one of end of the room to the other, flailing his arms as he struggled to get them into the sleeves of his bomber jacket.

I asked him why he allowed Israelis to advertise in his restaurant.

‘I have no quarrel with Jews, only with Zionism.’