Crossing the Border
What an irony! As I am writing this post I find myself behind a wall in the city of Beit Sahour, Palestine. This city might be known to some people as “the city of the shepherd’s field” where the angels announced to the shepherds that the Messiah was born. The unfortunate reality is that no more could those shepherds freely walk to go and visit their savior in Bethlehem.
These past three days, starting on Saturday crossing into the West Bank from Jordon, have been quite an experience. At this his point I feel quite overwhelmed with all the information that has been shared and with everything that we have experienced and observed. How can life be this complicated? Palestinians can live here but not there, they can drive here but not there. This road is only for Israelis but not for Palestinians. If you have this color registration plates for your car you can drive here but not there.
Maybe contributing to my overwhelming feelings is that life here in the West Bank reminds me so much of growing up in apartheid South Africa.
On Saturday we traveled from Madaba, Jordon into Palestine at the Malik Husein Bridge (Allenby) Arrival. The crossing itself took us about 3 hours to complete. This was a very frustrating experience, maybe not that different from many other border crossings in other countries that I have visited, but this one by far the most humiliating. Although the people in the line trying to clear customs had a lot to do with it, the system itself might be the biggest culprit bringing out the worst in people, pushing and shoving to keep your place in line. Maybe it was because the majority of people at the crossing were not welcome and were not considered people by the Israeli government and therefore do not deserve a better, more welcoming and humane treatment. What reminded me the most of apartheid South Africa was when the Naturalized Canadian Palestinian in front of me presented his passport to the Israeli customs agent, along with other paperwork including his Palestinian ID, to allow him and his Canadian-born daughter to enter and the agent did not know what to do. She was obviously very nervous and appeared to be scared. She first asked the agent sitting next to her for help in processing the passports and then disappeared for at least 20 minutes holding up the whole line to come back and tell him to go to yet another line where he needed yet another stamp.
This to me was occupation … the young Israeli custom agent acting from fear and the Palestinian man visibly nervous, his self esteem undermined by a system of exclusion, humiliating him in front of his daughter. Obviously not one of them are free, as he struggles to get back into his country of birth and as she is afraid that she might be the one allowing the “wrong” person to enter. The reality is that none of us are free, as we all belong to a “greater whole and are diminished when others are humiliated or diminished, when others are tortured or oppressed, or treated as if they are less than who they are.” – Desmond Tutu
Tags: occupation, Palestine
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