My daughter, and the other neighborhood kids who attend Friends School in Ramallah, usually take a public bus in the morning. As long as they leave before traffic builds up, it’s an easy ride from Jerusalem—no checking of identity papers, no searches by soldiers. But the return to Jerusalem can take hours through military checkpoints and sometimes requires the dodging of obstacles and dangers.
Because of these erratic conditions, we mothers take turns bringing the kids back by car, either the long way around through the Beit Il checkpoint (which I can do because I have a United Nations identity card) or on the Jeba’a Road through the Pisgat Ze’ev checkpoint. Sometimes I take a risk and drive through Qalandia checkpoint. Once you’re in though, there’s no turning back. You’re stuck for the duration.
Whether on foot or by car, going through military checkpoints is miserable. It might take 20 minutes or it might take 2 hours, but either way, I go through emotional turbulence. Sometimes I’m stuck on a simple (existential?) question: Why does someone else decide if I get home or not and whether or not I’m late? Sometimes it’s more logistical: If boys start to throw rocks, how can I get out of the checkpoint before the tear gas flies?
Occasionally there are amusing or thought-provoking incidents at the checkpoint. A few weeks back I was near the front of the line at Qalandia when rocks started raining down on my car and the cars around me. The drivers jumped out of their cars furious at the boys, “You’re hitting us, you fools. The Israeli watchtower is over there. Learn to aim!” And recently, coming home with a carload of children through a different checkpoint, we encountered a soldier the children named, “the happy soldier” because he seemed so happy to see us.
What do you say to a child when he waves enthusiastically at an Israeli soldier at a military checkpoint? Do you tell him not to be friendly and squash the innate humanity of the child? Or do you encourage him to express his humanity, perhaps awaking the humanity of the solder? Or do you spend the next 20 minutes talking about the complexities of human interactions in situations of structural inequality, thus losing the child completely and embarrassing your daughter in front of her friends? (You can guess what I did.)
Even when I’m alone, checkpoints are hard. How to act? I’ve noticed that if I drive up and hand my passport to a soldier with a scowl on my face, although I intend to communicate my disapproval and non-acceptance, the soldier tends not to notice or care. To be honest, they are often too deep in conversation with one another to acknowledge me. Yesterday a male and female soldier were flirting so suggestively at Qalandia; I felt I had walked into a private bedroom! In these situations, I find I want to shout, to make them feel uncomfortable; to make them know they are unwelcome.
But let’s be honest, if I make a fuss, I’ll delay the line. The drivers behind me will be angry. After all, we just want to get home, have some lemonade and watch Fetafeat, the cooking show, on TV. And it won’t make a difference anyway. Nothing makes a difference. So why make a fuss? But if I don’t make a fuss, what am I saying about occupation?
One thing that especially infuriates me is when they make me get out of my car to open the trunk for inspection. In my trunk I have a gallon of windshield wiper fluid, a quart of oil, and equipment for changing a tire. Sometimes my computer is in there and a box of books and some bags of recycling to deliver. There could be anything in there, but invariably, they glance in the trunk and hand back my passport without comment. So what was it for? It certainly wasn’t a security check. It was harassment. How come I have to drive away furious while they get to go back to flirting without even registering my existence?
Sometimes I’m angry before I get to the soldiers. Sitting in my car, next to a pile of rocks and expended tear gas canisters, I can see them up ahead chit chatting and repositioning their guns on their shoulders. Through the loudspeaker, the soldier who I cannot see in the watchtower to my left shrieks (yes, she shrieks!) “imshi” by which she intends the first several cars to enter the checkpoint while the rest wait behind the line. But “imshi” isn’t the right word for that! She should say “itfadal” (if you please) or “bevakasha” if she wants to say it in Hebrew. “Imshi,” especially in that tone, is the tone that an animal-hater would use to tell a dog to get out of the way, or perhaps, if you were really, really upset, you might use it to tell your child to hurry up.
I feel my muscles tightening just writing about it.
So, when I’m in the car with people who use a different strategy, I am amazed. They drive up to the checkpoint and greet the soldier: “How are you?” with a smile. They hand over their passport and wait patiently. They take back the passport and pause to say, “Thank you! Have a nice day!” How do they do that?
I understand, intellectually, that the soldier is a human being and s/he may not even want to be there oppressing me. I also understand that if I treat the soldier like a human being, s/he is more likely to treat me as one. But I don’t live in my intellect.
What would you do at a military checkpoint?
Powerful story, Nora, and what we in the US need to hear. We think our lives are stressful and that things are unfair, but our difficulties are measly compared to your daily challenges, and those of your neighbors. I can’t imagine what it must be like.
Of course, it’s easy to say that the way to reduce the stress on you is to change how you see and interact with the soldiers at the checkpoints. And it is true that this is what will put you at more peace, but it is certainly not an easy thing to do. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try, even knowing that you’ll have to renew that effort every day. It will deplete you for a while, but perhaps it might deplete you less than focusing on the unfairness and inhumanity of others?
Sharing your story here gets it our into the wider world, and may be a more effective way to help create change than showing the checkpoint soldiers that you are unhappy with them and the wholesale harassment of Palestinians. Is the question: “What battles are the best ones to pick?” or something else?
You may already be familiar with the book I’m about to mention, and I know that, living in the US, it’s far too easy for me to not “get” what you are living through, so I’ll make any apologies in advance if you find anything I’ve said or this book in some way offensive (and if you do, I’d like to understand your perspective about that):
The Anatomy of Peace (http://www.amazon.com/The-Anatomy-Peace-Resolving-Conflict/dp/1576755843/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1337634629&sr=1-1).
My heart goes out to you and your countrymen and women (and children) who experience levels of daily social injustice we in the US can only imagine (especially if we are white, above the poverty line, and educated).
Thanks, Kerul, for your thoughts and for the valuable resource. There’s never a need to apologize. We’re all learners, and we’re all teachers. From my life, I’m learning not to compare stress and injustice. The fact that Palestinians suffer injustice while many US people “only” lost their jobs and houses isn’t really helpful to the US people who are seeing all they’ve worked for melt away. And the fact that there are people who are homeless and starving to death in some parts of India while Palestinians “only” have to wait at military checkpoints doesn’t help Palestinians either. What does help is people knowing and caring about the situation here and, in their own ways, taking action.
Nora,
Thanks for writing about every day life here in Palestine since there are over 250 illegal check points and 100’s more flying checkpoints all over the West Bank and most people who visit from one town to another have to pass through one so it is every day life. There are many problems but the one so strikingly absurd and sad is that we all, all of us, cooperate with the occupation. To help you a little help I’ll tell you I use the car to listen to my favorite music. But watch out. Those kids (soldiers) at the check point will detain you as long as they can to get to hear the end of “Stairway to Heaven.”
Love that!
Nora,
Your ability to write about feelings under occupation and at its checkpoints, brings the whole picture of the internal rage you and Palestinians who experience the same conditions feel. Thanks for writing about this because we don’t get it in the main media.
The trick will be, in future posts, to write about the dignity and creativity of Palestinians, which also doesn’t get covered in the main media.
Nora, I love this piece (and the following comments) — it makes it vivid for me, so far away and in a place where daily checkpoints, and the psychic tolls they exact, are hard to imagine. Your voice is so clear — it brings you close. A gift.
Your comment is a gift, Alison. Thanks so much for reading and for writing.
I used to cross the Qalandia checkpoint, but no more. I precisely went through the same experiences that you described in your article and even fighting with the soldiers to register my protest and my opinion about their illegal and unwelcome presence. Every crossing was so stressful that I had to change route, though it is longer distance wise. So now I go through Hizmah and after many different attempts at trying to cross the checkpoint without being stopped, I have developed a strategy of looking at the soldiers directly into their eyes and acknowledging their presence and that seems to do the trick, at least for now!
You raise a lot of very good and existential questions that in my opinion boils down to how to go about ending this brutal occupation. And of course, it will take lots of time, words and action to address this question.
Good luck and keep us informed.
Saeed
I am one of those millions in the West Bank who cannot even cross that checkpoint to Jerusalem. Even though my mom was born there, she cannot either (she married my dad who is from Hebron and lost her Jerusalem ID). When I was young, Jerusalem was open and we used to drive our car there. They had checkpoints then but the soldiers were nicer. I remember one day the solder wanted to look under our car’s hood, so my dad popped it, and the solder opened it. He did not know that the stick propping the hood was defective, and the hood slammed down on his head. As a kid, I found this amusing, but was shocked at my mom’s reaction: she acted as if the blow hit her head. She was concerned about the solder and felt badly for him. I didn’t expect that at all. After all, these solders were the enemy and deserved what they got. But not in my mom’s eyes. She was looking at them as human beings forgetting how they torment us every day. I wonder how it never crosses their minds that the Palestinians are human beings suffering at their hands. Their actions never reveal remorse or even the slightest hesitation. How can they shut their minds and hearts like that?
What a touching and deep story. Thank you so much for sharing it, truly. It reminds me of a photo I saw once in the newspaper. It might have been Al-Quds. A soldier had been controlling a line of Palestinians and was backing up when he tripped and fell backwards. The photographer caught the moment when a Palestinian from the line stepped forward to catch the falling soldier. I doubt he thought about it before he did it. Human compassion is an instinct. We are one species, after all.
Thank you all for sharing this nightmare. I can understand there has to be a degree of acceptance so the stress won’t kill you, but looking at soldiers with anything more than this survival acceptance might be an Stockholm syndrom.
May God bless you all for your patience and endurance. You have all my respect and admiration.
Thanks, Alaine, but it’s not just a question of how to get through the checkpoint, is it? We also need, eventually, to figure out how to transcend all this and live together in justice and equality. Meanwhile, we dismantle one anothers humanity, and our own, which leaves us depleted for the important task ahead.
I have just read your answer, thank you Nora.
Of course, this is all about transcending and not loosing hope. A friend of mine says that the situation in Palestine is the knot of the present world. Whatever happens there, it has and will have an impact in humanity, because we cannot continue looking in another direction. I’m quite an ignorant but the more I learn and read about the past and present of Palestinians it’s like a call impossible to ignore. Wherever it takes me, I just want to listen to that call and stop being a useless witness.
I enjoyed your story and felt it expressing some of my feelings of anger and indignity, where crossing the checkpoint or not depends heavily on the mood of the soldier (of course Qalandia is exceptional as I have a Palestinian I.D and no way for me to enter to Jerusalem my beloved city).
People like me almost have no option in checkpoints
(or simply, we are frightened). People who don’t have passport, Jerusalemite or Israeli I.D. We may be arrested, beaten or arbitrarily returned back. We opt always to smile to that 16 or 17 soldier, beg his humanity and avoid his mood in order to peacefully pass.
Stupid me! I was so focused on what it’s like to pass through a checkpoint, I didn’t even mention the millions (yes MILLIONS) who cannot pass at all, because they lack a military permit. This includes people who were born in Jerusalem but lost residency “rights” through any number of ways. The issue of residency rights is the one that prompted the novel I’m working on right now. It’s about 4 women in Beit Hanina. They all have problems with their residency, their husbands, and their daughters.
Looking forward to reading your novel.
Writing a novel is a much longer and harder process than I ever imagined. I look forward to reading it too!
Unfortunately , I go through the same experience every day
And my kids go to the same school which we love very much
And I am sure we are way more than being few who cross
The checkpoint everyday , but I look at it in complete different way
Friends and colleagues always ask how do you
Do it every day , it’s hard , checkpoints and people not respecting
their turns and boys trying to sells you stuff , but I do , I smile
And say this is my country my life routine , I got used to it
In a matter of fact I love it and if I think for a second that I am tiered
Or that I wish that I live anywhere else that means they win and I loose , so I go back to say
Its my country it’s mine and I love it .
Also to be honest I do smile at the soldier and say how do you
Do , and say thank you after he gives me my id , I tell you why, first because
This is how we where raised , to be respectful and nice.
Second because if I was angry or not , it won’t make a difference to the
Soldier like you said so might as well ignore him and
Enjoy my drive, I put music and dance with my 6 and 7 year old boy. We should fight in only
One way, and it’s only by veins more cultured and educated .
I really admire your approach, Alia, and I will try to be more like you. It’s about integrity, isn’t it? In the sense that we should decide who we are and not them?
I love this! Do not let them win or take away your peace.
Alia I was so enamored of your story – You are an inspiration to your children and your country but more importantly – to the world citizenry. I admire your audacity to smile and love your life no matter what. I will try to emulate you!
Teresa Perez – An admirer from 1/2 way around the world
thanks for the article.. i know exactly what you mean..
I am a mother of two who lives in Qalandia and my boys go to a kindergarten in Beit Hanina. i was stubborn (& crazy) enough to refuse to take my kids out of the kindergarten that i absolutely love, and insist (with a passion) that i would be able to drive them back and forth everyday accross Qalandia checkpoint.. i used to take them around 7:30am to Beit Hanina accross Qalandia, go back home to cook, then by 12:15 drive again to Qalandia and bring them back home around 13:30. so four times qalandia.. a few months later, i felt like i was turning into someone else.. i am usually , (when i’m not yelling at my kids for choking each other or pulling each other’s hair), a pleasant person.. but after a few months of high doses of Qalandia, i (and my poor husband) was watching myself change and couldn’t do anything about it.. i became miserable, angry, or at best indifferent, annoying, irrational, i would burst into tears without any reason.. it was like i was pmsing non stop for months..
then i got a brilliant idea.. what if i stop being a stay at home mom and go back to work, then i would be able to justify hiring someone to drive the kids back and forth and hire someone else to babysit them until i got back from work?
you think that Qalandia is not reason enough for someone to get a career.. ?? think again.. i am happy to say that Qalandia was the main reason for me to quit being a stay at home mom, and go back to work…!
life is funny..even under occupation..;)
Amazing story. Yes! The fact of the checkpoints affects all our decisions, not only because of the indignity and time, but also because it is exhausting to battle the other people — driving or walking — who are also battling the checkpoint. Some of my very worst impressions of Palestinians have been at checkpoints: people pushing one another to get ahead, screaming at old people, all kinds of bad behavior. It brings out the worst in all of us. I have written some of these bad experiences into my novel-in-progress, “One Year in Beit Hanina.”
Thank you for posting this , it was great reading
It with all the replies , would love to read your
Novel and meet you in person hopefully maybe we
Can help each other .
Have a great day
Brilliant article Nora. I pass Qalandia (which I call Q when I send messages to my wife) every day. Every day. I’ve seen it all and I’ve been called ‘knight of Qalandia!’ The guys who forcibly wipe your windshield don’t approach me anymore! What do I do? I play poker on my Iphone and pray my battery does die on me!
That’s a strategy, too, Sani. Just ignore it all. Let your eyes gloss over the barbed wired and let the faces of the soldiers go blurry. I do that sometimes. I get home and realize I’m not aware of having experienced the checkpoint at all. But I do feel somehow depleted.