Airport and Final Notes

Ok, so I think I said I'd write something about the airport and my last day in Palestine.

Let me start with Sunday night, I stayed up all night on Sunday night, so Sunday and Monday were essentially the same day for me. We had a closing ceremony and then a bunch of volunteers and I sat around a campfire. My god, that was a hard night. Over dinner, I spoke briefly with one of the officials from PARC about electoral politics in the US and how the two party system prevented any real political change. We also discussed the anti-war movement and Palestine solidarity efforts here in the States. Anyway, Amir, Ibrahim, Michael, a few others, and I stayed up until dawn cracking jokes and discussing the utterly mundane things that people our age discuss. Amir, my friend from Hebron, was the last one awake. We sat by the campfire and listened to the call for morning prayer from the minarets of a nearby Mosque. I watched the sunrise; it was beautiful. Eventually, around 5:30am, Amir got tired and fell asleep in his tent. I was going to take a brief nap, but decided to go finish packing my things instead. There was a taxi coming to pick me up from the camp at 6:10. I collected my things and woke up Amir to say goodbye. Then I waited by the entrance to the camp for the taxi. It arrived right on time. I greeted the driver and threw my bags in the trunk.

Since I didn't know the driver very well, I wasn't sure what I should or shouldn't say to him. He was Palestinian, but I was still nervous. After he got in the car, he asked where exactly I was going, and I said I was going to the airport in Tel Aviv, but I wanted him to drop me at the D.C.O checkpoint. He asked how I was getting to Tel Aviv from there, and I said that I was meeting another taxi. He asked me if I was finished with my work in Palestine, and I responded that I was. He asked whether I was in Palestine working on a school project and I explained that I was just working with PARC for the week. He then asked if I will ever come back, and I said I would probably come back next year. Then I said something to the effect of, "Your country is very beautiful", to which he snorted and replied, "all the time they're building settlements," then he pointed and said, "Look, there's a new one over there." We traveled in silence the rest of the way through early morning Bethlehem. I didn't know what to say. We arrived at the Beit Jala D.C.O. [District Coordination Office] checkpoint at about 6:15am. The checkpoint was still closed. Essentially, this means there were rolls of razor wire stretched out along the road between the guard posts. The driver apologized that he could not take me any further but gestured to the cab on the other side, helped me grab my bags, and sent me off. As I walked through the checkpoint, I was sure a soldier was going to come out of the barracks-like building by the side of the road and stop me to ask for my passport. I was also a little nervous a solider would take notice of me and after checking my passport would start asking questions about why I was carrying so many bags, what I was doing in the West Bank, where I was going, why was I here. But, I walked through without meeting any Israelis. As I was walking to the other side, the taxi suddenly drove away. I was a little confused, but I figured that it probably wasn’t my driver after all. When I got to the other side of the checkpoint, I opened my backpack and started looking for a disposable camera. I didn’t have many pictures of checkpoints, and I figured this was as good an opportunity as any. There were still no soldiers around so I took a camera out of my bag, opened the packaging and took a picture. I started to wind the film, but realized just how incredibly loud it was, so I stopped. I was convinced that a soldier was going to come boiling out of the barracks building at any moment, take my camera, and start asking awkward questions, or worse. Shortly thereafter, an Israeli jeep pulled out of the checkpoint and drove toward the corner I was standing on. I thought for sure they were coming to talk with or arrest me, but they drove right by on the road to Jerusalem. Several other jeeps lumbered past while I was waiting. I tried to look casual and clueless. None of them stopped to ask what I was doing there or check my passport.

My driver was supposed to show up about 6:30am, I kept looking at the clock on the cell phone I rented. 6:30 came and went, he was late. I started to get nervous that the first cab had been my cab and something had spooked the driver. I decided that I would call the director of the camp if he did not show up by 7:00. I crossed to the other side of the street. A bus drove by and one of the Palestinians who was standing waiting for a ride asked me if I was waiting for a ride to Jerusalem. I explained that I was waiting for a taxi. My driver, the same one who’d taken me from the airport when I arrived, showed up around 6:45. I threw my stuff in the backseat and hopped into the passenger seat. I told him it was good to see him. We chatted for a while about the settlements and the other things I’d seen while in Palestine while we were driving. After about fifteen minutes we ran into a checkpoint. Just before we got stopped, the driver growled, “fuck off” in disgust. After the soldiers pulled us over, we noticed a bus that drove right through the checkpoint. My driver said, “That’s a settler bus. Of course they don’t get stopped, they’re human beings… you don’t stop human beings.” “Of course not, that would be a crime,” I replied. “A crime against humanity.” So, the soldiers took his ID and my passport. One of the soldiers approached the car and asked me to open my bag so he could search it through gestures and broken English. I did open it for him… in retrospect perhaps I shouldn’t have, but he was rather timid about searching and only looked in one pocket of my backpack and peeked in the main pouch of my suitcase. After this, the soldiers returned his ID and my passport and we were off.

The drive to Tel Aviv seemed to take forever. He asked me about my story, I told him that my story was that I came to Israel as a tourist and for a religious pilgrimage. I met a French national named Mattheiu in Jerusalem on August 6^th. We were staying in the Old Knights hotel and had visited the Old City, the Wailing Wall and the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem. We met each other a year prior in Paris and decided to visit the Holy Land together. The driver said that it might be better if I said I was staying at the Chancion Hotel on Jaffa Street. That way I could say I hailed him on the street and didn’t know him. He said that if the Israelis found out that we knew each other, they would search the car and cause all kinds of problems for both of us. As we approached the airport I saw another checkpoint, which was rather similar to the ones we have outside our airports post-9/11. The driver explained that most taxis breezed right through, but they usually stopped taxis with Arab drivers. As I watched, it did seem that most were being waved through without stopping. However, when we approached the checkpoint we were immediately stopped and the driver was asked for his ID. Then we were pulled over to the side of the road. The security officer started asking the driver all kinds of questions in Arabic that I didn’t understand, and I started to get worried that I may get us into trouble if I couldn’t spit the same information back out at him in English. I heard something about Jaffa Street, so I figured he was just explaining where he picked me up.

After the security agent questioned the driver for a few minutes, he walked over to my side of the car and asked me why I was visiting Israel, where I was staying, when I arrived, did I come with someone. I explained that I was visiting as a tourist, tried to pronounce the name of the hotel but failed miserably, and said I’d come alone. So, in short, I messed up the story I was going in with. The security agent then asked me point blank if there was a connection between the driver and me… I tried hard not to give any visual clue that the question disturbed me, I don’t know how successful I was, and I replied “no”. After that they gave us back our Ids and let us proceed to the terminal.

At the terminal I got out of the car, collected my bags, and said goodbye to my driver. I told him I hoped I’d see him again. I’d already explained my plans to return next summer. Right after I left the car and started to approach the terminal, I was greeted by two individuals who looked like skycaps and said something to me in Hebrew. I told them that I only spoke English. They ordered me to put down my bags, asked for my passport, and then asked if I was stopped at the checkpoint. I said yes. They then asked if the car was searched or if I was physically searched, and I responded that neither had occurred. They then checked the back of my passport, which had a blue round sticker that had the number 78 on it. They asked me where it had come from, and I told them that I didn’t know… I thought maybe from the checkpoint at the entrance to the airport. They then proceeded to ask me a bunch of questions about where I was staying (I said the Old Knights Hotel this time). Why I had come (tourism, religious pilgrimage), when I arrived, did I come with anyone (I figured it was better to stay consistent so I told them no), did I have a job in the States, did I go to school, what was my major, how did I pay for my plane ticket, how did I hear about Israel (I told them I had Jewish friends) and other ridiculous things of that nature. I was then taken inside the terminal to the baggage x-ray machines, where I met another security agent. He asked me a similar series of questions and then sent me to a third (female this time) security agent, who started asking me the questions all over again. She got pretty particular about my hotel and asked what street it was on, what landmarks was it by. I couldn’t answer. She asked me if I had any maps of Jerusalem, or travel guides and I said I didn’t bring them with me. She asked if I had a pamphlet from the hotel and told her I didn’t. I thought for sure things were going to get really bad from here, but I was able to bullshit my way through the questions she asked. Next, airport security decided to x-ray my carry-ons and search my checked luggage. They then searched my carry-ons and were very fascinated by my sleeping bag. After going through everything they decided they were going to search me. So, they took me back into a room and patted me down and examined my shoes. This all took about two hours. I got to the airport three hours before my flight. So, I essentially walked onto the plane right after I got through passport control and the last security check. I kept waiting for them to walk up to me and pull me off the plane right up until we took off.

Anyway, I arrived back in Chicago at about 7pm on August 16th. I found out that they lost my bag. I just got it back last weekend. Everything is moldy and ruined. I guess they let it sit out in the rain. It's exciting.