A Fun Day at the Checkpoints!

First, I want to say that it's very encouraging to know that so many of you are reading this blog. I encourage you all to make comments, both to let me know what kind of information you'd like more of and to share your own reflections and feelings as you read about my perceptions of this place!

Now for the really interesting stuff. Today was wild, but I don't have tons of time to update this blog, so I'll try to be as brief as possible.

First, we started the day with me oversleeping after I had absolutely promised to Susie that I would wake up early and be ready for her whenever she called (I offered this promise to her in the most matter-of-fact voice - ha!). So poor Susie called me at 8:40 (way after I said I'd be ready) and got a sleepy Sonia apologizing profusely and offering to be ready in 10 minutes. 15 minutes later (no shower for me), I called her back and went down to meet her. Sorry, Susie. I'm a total dork!

So we were off to Bethlehem with Susie's cousin Karam and her cousin's daughter Lulu to meet with Maha (who works with Reverend Mitri) so that I could have an official introduction. On the way in, everyone has to go through a massive new checkpoint between Jerusalem and Bethlehem. This thing is like a fortress, and it's where Susie was detained for 8 hours just over a week ago. We went through the first security turnstile, where Susie, Karam, and I had to show our IDs. Since Lulu is just a child, she was allowed to go through without identification. When we got out on the other side, after going through a number of gates and passageways (did I mention that this thing is a fortress?), we encountered a moment of wonderful irony. The soldiers began blasting the Bob Marley song "Buffalo Soldier" just long enough for us to pass by. Buffalo Soldier? I mean, really, did they have to choose a song about freedom fighters? What was that supposed to mean, anyway? Ah, the blindness of Zionism! We stopped off at the office of the International Center of Bethlehem (is this the right name, Susie?), but Maha wasn't there, so we left to walk around the souk.

After stopping in a few shops and eating yummy street food - oh, how I'm a sucker for street food - we wandered off down a steep, steep hill and onto another road. There we ran right into a beauty salon, and Susie had the brilliant idea that all of us could get our hair blowdryed. I almost never treat myself to having someone else do what I could do myself (though not quite as well), so I loved the idea. All of us went in for a morning at the salon. Of course, since we were all having our hair done, we had to take a million pictures of each other. A few are below. Susie's hair looked really awesome, and so did Karam's and Lulu's. Mine looked much better when it had a few hours to chill out from all that blowdrying. The most fun part of the experience, though, was just being in the beauty salon with some kind hairdressers.

Everyone's new do's (except mine, because the pic accidentally got deleted... I'm sorry):

Afterwards, as we walked back up the hill, we got a call from Maha that she was back in the office, so we went back to meet her. Maha is the very composed, competent, friendly engineer who will be leading the playground installation in Bethlehem. After meeting her, I have the utmost confidence that she will do a fabulous job and that my work will be a piece of cake when it comes to that site. By the way, the Internation Center is a stunning building that is a perfectly blended mixture of new and old. The original building, which got added onto recently with a modern but simple corridor and set of offices, is actually hundreds of years old and has the feeling of a tradition Arab home in the heart of the medina. I will take pictures of the inside of the office at some point. In any case, I will be going back and forth to see Maha and to meet Reverend Mitri and the others as the playground installation gets underway.

Once Susie had introduced me to Maha, it was time to leave. No problem, right? Wrong. We went into the Bethlehem checkpoint, which, as I have said twice now, is a total fortress. I took a few pictures of the Bethlehem side and a few of the parts in between where you have to go out and then in. And I took a picture of our second fabulous moment of irony. As I was leaving the first passageway to go past the Wall (the ultimate symbol of the occupation) to the second passageway (where you get told to stay or go or where you get detained), I looked up at this side of the Wall, and the Israeli government had hung a three-story high sign that was clearly meant for tourists. It read "Peace Be With You" and was signed "Israeli Ministry of Tourism". I could only think, You've GOT to be kidding. What an obvious contradiction it is to control Palestinians' every move and then talk about peace. Ha! There's a picture of this below. Note the barbed wire and cages above, around, and in front of the sign. This is like the American government advertising their war and then wishing us all peace. Seriously.

Wall graffitti on the Bethlehem side:

But the worst of it was yet to come. When we got inside the next section of the checkpoint, there was a gate that only opened for three people at a time. So the green light above it would be lit, three people would go in, then the red light would go on and the gate would lock (see picture below). Susie pointed to the place where she had gotten frisked and detained. It didn't look pretty. Karam and Lulu went in with a guy in front of us, and Susie and I waited behind them. We started talking with a very friendly Palestinian tour guide, who was with a group of Europeans on tour. He and Susie were talking in Arabic, and she told him how last week she had been stopped and detained, and his response was basically, "Oh, that was you? I was there and was wondering what was holding up the line for so long!" So he turned around to his tour group to relate the story to them, only he changed the details a bit. He told them that she had been detained because she was a tourist taking photographs (she was really detained because she was a Palestinian taking photographs, and then they got suspicious of some very simple photos on the memory card of her camera - see her blog for more details). When Susie and I started to correct him, he told us in Arabic that he doesn't want to share that kind of stuff with them because being a tour guide is his livelihood and this could really alienate and scare his customers. We understood immediately and shut our mouths, but it was so sad to hear him say that. Of course, without question, I respect his decision, but I hate that that's the position he has been put in... to not even be able to tell an important truth like that without risking his livelihood.

The ominous gate with the green and red lights:

Susie and I finally got to go through the gate, where we placed all our stuff (including the stuff in our pockets) onto the conveyor belt of an x-ray machine and then went through a metal detector. I kept setting it off for some reason, and a voice suddenly came from a speaker above me (yes, it was like being talked to by God, but a very hateful and controlling god) and told me to show my passport. I kept turning around and around, looking for a human face so I would know what direction to aim the open passport in my hand. Finally, I saw the top of a person's head through the window past the metal detector, showed him/her my passport, collected my stuff, and walked out.

We had made it to the last stop in the checkpoint, and we thought we were finally home free, but to no avail. At the last window with the turnstile that would be our official entry into Jerusalem, the soldiers stopped us. They said that all of us could go through except for Lulu, because Lulu had no identification. Susie argued that this was ridiculous, since they had let Lulu, only 14 years old, in through this very turnstile just a few hours before and since she lives in Jerusalem and we could not just leave her in Bethlehem. This argument fell on deaf ears. I started telling them that I'm a Jew and "Is this how you treat Jews and the people they travel with? Is this how you welcome American Jews to Israel?" (I was trying to use some privilege to my advantage). We were being as loud as possible so as to make it clear to all the tourists behind us exactly what was happening and so as to make it as difficult as could be for the soldiers to hold us there. Nothing worked, though. It was so ironic that Lulu was actually through the turnstile on the other side, but, with the threat of violence always looming (every soldier had a gun as long as my torso), she could do nothing but obey their order to stay there. We argued with the Captain too, but in the end Susie and Karam had to leave to try to get in touch with someone who could get hold of Lulu's ID.

I stayed with Lulu at the checkpoint, and eventually one soldier made us go back through the turnstile and be with the large group of soldiers that had congregated inside this area of the building. I argued with them some more, showing them my passport and repeating all of our previous points about the fact that Lulu had just come through this checkpoint a few hours ago without any identification and that they could just look at the footage from their many security cameras to see that this was true. Really, how hard could it be? They told me no a million more times and questioned Lulu in Arabic (she doesn't speak English or Hebrew) to see if we were lying (they did get us on one point, which was that Susie and I thought that Lulu is only 11 but really she is 14). Then, one of the original soldiers took me aside and asked me again if I was Jewish. I told him, "Yes, look at my name. That's not Jewish?" He told me that as a Jew I am not allowed to go into the West Bank without a special permit from the IDF (Israeli Defense Forces). I told him that was ridiculous and that I am an American, not an Israeli. He told me it doesn't matter, and if I am a Jew I have to have that permit. I said, "Well, then, fine, I'm not Jewish anymore. You can have my Jewishness." He said, "Ok." So crazy. (By the way, this fact about Jews needing special permits for travel to and from the West Bank was later confirmed by our friend Mohammed.)

So I went off to join Lulu, and we walked away from the soldiers. We amused ourselves as she helped me practice my written Arabic by reading all the signs around us, with fun new phrases such as "Stop here and show your identification" and "Do not enter without accompaniment". The best one had directions for how Palestinians should place their right hands on the handprint reading machine right before the turnstile. I'm developing a whole new vocabulary especially for occupation!

Finally, Susie and Karam came back but without any ID for Lulu. No one was home, and Susie couldn't get in touch with Lulu's brother Mohammed. We all just waited behind a fence outside (the inside was really cold, but outside it was sunny), and Lulu tried calling her brother. We started talking with a soldier who had some kind of higher rank than the others and spoke fluent Arabic (I think Susie mentioned that he was Druze). Susie engaged him in conversation, flirting with him a little (which was more than demeaning for her, since he was probably about 15-18 years younger than she), and this was the strategy that finally worked. They let us out, Lulu and all. Start to finish, passing through that checkpoint took us well over an hour.

But it wasn't really over yet. Just as we were getting into our car, Lulu's brother Mohammed pulled up in another car with her identification. He saw the soldier that had stopped us from moving along and said something to the extent of "Shame on you for stopping a young girl from passing." That set the soldier off, and he made Mohammed go all the way up the long walkway and give him his ID. He kept us all there for another 10 minutes or so and then walked back out and gave back Mohammed's ID. In the end, it's all about power and control and soldiers being able, on a whim, to do whatever they want to Palestinians.

Because we were so far behind, we had to send Lulu along with her brother and go back with Karam for Susie to say goodbye to some other family members. I was sad to see Karam go, because I really enjoyed her company, but inshallah I'll be able to hang out with her some more this coming week, since she's offered to go with me to Bethlehem and some other places.

Susie and I had a quick lunch in the Mount of Olives neighborhood and then went to Hebron to meet with Mohammed, who works with ANERA and will be helping me a lot with the Beit Anan playground. (Yes, this is a different Mohammed than the last two I've mentioned so far in these blogs, but you've got to understand that in the Arab world every third guy is named Mohammed. So get used to it.) We walked around a few parts of Hebron. In the Old City, Mohammed pointed out some abandoned houses that were constructed hundreds of years ago and lived in by Palestinians for generations before these families were driven out by Israelis (not sure if it was the settlers or the IDF). The architecture on these houses was amazing, but the insides were a mess. I've posted a picture below.

Mohammed was great, and not only did he show us around Hebron, he also invited us to his family's house about 30-40 minutes away. On our way to see Mohammed's family, we passed by a checkpoint. Since we were driving behind Mohammed's car, we watched him get pulled over first. The IDF soldiers made him step out of his vehicle and open the trunk for them. Then, he had to go back into his car while they searched the trunk, even picking up the carpet to see if there was anything underneath. Now, I should clarify that there is absolutely nothing suspicious looking about Mohammed except that he is a Palestinian, and, to the IDF, any Palestinian is a potential terrorist. Susie and I sat watching and talking about the scene unfolding before us, about how it is in moments like this that the IDF attempts to emasculate and dehumanize Palestinian men. I was on the verge of tears watching this person who I had already come to like and respect be treated this way. And I know it's not even close to the worst kind of treatment he could have received. We, of course, passed through the checkpoint without a problem, as they didn't know we were with him. I was driving because Susie had been feeling too tired, and I started moving very fast towards what I thought was a row of spikes facing away from me (you know the kind you see in the entrances to parking lots that are ok if you go over them the right way but will puncture your tires if you pass over them in the opposite direction). Suddenly, one of the soldiers yelled, "Stop!" and I knew right away what he was trying to tell me. I slammed on the brakes and came to an abrupt stop about a foot before running over the line of spikes. He said, "They go both ways." If I had stopped even a foot later, our two front tires would have been destroyed and we would have been totally screwed. Whew!

We continued on through some of the most beautiful countryside I have encountered yet and finally arrived at Mohammed's family's houses. His family has owned all the land on this hillside for generations, and just a year ago they built a group of gorgeously designed houses overlooking the entire valley and with a view to die for. Better than the view, though, were his mother, aunt, cousins, siblings, neices and nephews... Everyone we met. What interesting and hospitable folks! We drank tea and Arabic coffee and talked and laughed for a few hours before Susie and I had to leave to get back to Jerusalem. It was hard to walk away from such wonderful people, but maybe I'll be able to meet some of them again, as I'll be seeing Mohammed quite a lot over the course of my stay here.

Susie and I got back to Jerusalem before 9PM, and both of us were so exhausted we just went back to our respective residences.

As a final note, I also wanted to share some general reflections that I had today. First, I think it is so hilarious every time I hear Susie explaining my mixed heritage to the people we meet. There's something about the look of surprise on their faces when they find out that I'm half Ashkanazi Jew and half Arab Muslim. And, of course, she always starts out by telling them that my mother is from Morocco. It's really cute and cool to see people processing what this all means. (It's even more fun than when I do it to people in the States!)

Second, now that I've covered considerable ground in the West Bank, I've noticed that the Israelis are very strategic in the way that they sprinkle little symbols of control throughout Palestinian land - checkpoints, settlements, outposts, etc. And above every one of these flies at least one big, blue and white Israeli flag. It's such an important visual representation of the occupation, because you'll be driving around through lush land with olive trees planted in steppes down the side of the mountains and suddenly you encounter an Israeli flag and some clear sign that this is not really Palestinian land at all, that this land is actually under Israeli control and any Palestinian who forgets it might not even live to regret it. When I see this, I think of how I've always heard farmers talk about being able to look across their land and know they've loved and cultivated it. It would be hard for a Palestinian in the West Bank to look across his land without seeing the Israeli flag cut across the sky, disrupting what was left of a beautiful view.

Thanks to everyone for making it this far in my long, long post. Hopefully, tomorrow I won't have such an eventful day!