Now that I have a car, I am often lazy and drive to Ramallah on the days I have business there. It’s best to go early and beat the intense traffic that is inevitable when a population expands and expands over decades but the roads are allowed to decay.
Recently, I drove into Qalandia checkpoint around 7:25 am and my eyes started stinging immediately. Damn tear gas. Not a nice way to start a day. Later I found out that a Palestinian boy had been killed the night before, martyred as they say locally, and the smell of tear gas was remnant from the battle that took his life. Not a battle, really. Palestinian boys with rocks against Israeli boys with guns. More of a set up than a battle.
I shouldn’t drink coffee even on good days. I should definitely not drink coffee on top of tear gas. It was a long, shaky day.
On the way home, there were still tires burning along the side of the main road down to Qalandia. I veered left to take Jeba’a Road (also called death way) and had to swerve around various burning items. That’s not all that unusual, but the smell of fresh tear gas was disconcerting. From a car, you can’t see what’s going on around you. You might unknowingly drive right into danger. I cracked the window and tried to hear.
My friend sat in the front seat next to me and commented casually about the shooting in front of us. I squinted into the dusk and saw long arcs of tear gas shot from the military vehicles up ahead on our left into the community of Ram on our right. I pulled to the side to confer with my friend. “Straight ahead or turn around?” Some cars were driving forward under the tear gas and others were turning around.
“They’re shooting into the air,” she said. “It’s only tear gas. It’s not like we’re going to get shot.” I took that as advice that I should press forward. I, too, wanted to go home, not get stuck on the short stretch of road between two hot spots. I drove fast.
We got to the roundabout near the Israeli settlement and seamlessly resumed our previous conversation about the community’s role in monitoring development projects. The gas was behind us. There was nothing more to say about it.
I got home and washed my clothes separate from our other clothes. I showered and washed my hair three times. My daughter said I smelled good, but my eyes still sting hours later.
Altogether, not an atypical day in Palestine.
This is SO FRIGGIN AWESOME!!! And yes I said “Friggin”!!! You rock! In more ways than one! ox-Jamie
Jamie!!!! Thanks!!!! Part of me wants to ask what are the different ways that I rock, but part of me is scared to hear the answer. 🙂 Please keep in touch!!!!